Beeline 0280 – Prisoner of Lust

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Beeline 0280 – Prisoner of LustPrisoner Of Lust By Theodore SticklesPAULA’S UNLEASHED PASSIONPaula had always known that one day, the lust-starved prisoners that shecounseled would not be able to resist her voluptuous body.So, as the prisoner grabbed her and forced her to undress, releasing hisaching member, she shouldn’t have been so shocked.He squeezed and fondled her bare breasts … pinching her nipples hard… savouring the flavor and feel of a woman’s flesh … rubbing hishard, erect penis against Paula’s trembling pussy … feeling the warmwetness of her juicy cunt … knowing it would be a long, long time beforehe could feel the softness of a woman’s body again.Paula tried fighting at first, but she liked the strength and nerve ofthis prisoner. Besides, her body needed some good loving–and he was doinga fine job of fulfilling the longings of lust that only a forceful mancould satisfy.CHAPTER 1Paula knew she was dreaming. But even this knowledge did nothing tohelp. It was hot, it was hard, it was male, and, most importantly, it wasin her. She lay helpless, caught up in the throes of passion, hating it,loving it, unable even to make a token gesture or croak a hoarse “No!” ashe pushed it in her, pulled it out, pushed it back in again, churning herinsides into a passionate pudding of pink-frothed lust.God damn him! She knew who it was–knew just as clearly as if she couldsee his face. It was the most vivid dream she could remember in years. Damn! She hadn’t felt this turned-on since–since something she didn’tlike to think about.This goddam job was getting the best of her. She ought to quit–but outand go back to something safe like teaching, preferably in some all-girlschool. Lately she’d been turning positively paranoid. It was bad enoughhaving to deal with them all day, to look into their burning eyes and knowexactly what they were thinking, feeling, planning for her. How could shehave not known what they were thinking–after all, what could they bethinking after months or years in that place, locked up and away from eventhe sight of a woman?But could they really see it in her face too? Could they read her mind,read her lush, unused body and know how long since she–how she ached andburned, lusted in the lonely silence of her darkened room?God damn him! God damn the dream that was racking her empty body! Goddamn a god who created a full-blown woman’s body with full-blowndesires–and then dumped her into a place in society where she could notgratify those desires.Oooooohhhh god damn it all–god damn everything! She could feel thatgreat hot thumping lump of maleness humping her, driving a dickindefatigably in and out, in and out, filling her to bursting, leaving herpanting and empty for a brief instant before once more stuffing her–like asausage–like a Christmas goose! God damn it! She wasn’t a sexobject–something to be fucked and forgotten. She was a woman–anintelligent, sensitive, needful woman. She had a college education. Shehad looks. She was still young and had her health. She had everything sheneeded–job, home, car–everything except a man’s hot, hard hammer slidingtirelessly into her, out of her, back into her every night.Something had to give. She couldn’t put up with this insomnia forever.And when she did finally manage to sleep it was worse. All she could dreamof were those hungry eyes with their naked need that made her feel naked asthey studied her statuesque blondness, mentally peeling off her severelytailored clothes, pulling hairpins from her chignon to send a cascade ofblond hair almost to her small taut waist.In the dream those hungry lusting eyes never looked into hers, lookedonly at the full firmness of twin peaks that peeped through a cascade ofblond hair, pointing outward like twin headlights, their rigid pink nipplesbetraying her need, her shame, her inability to stop thinking about thosehungry men with the hungry eyes, with the hungry insatiable need that ragedin their bellies.God damn it! She was a modern, educated woman. Liberated! Liberated–shit! What did liberation mean if her body, her belly remainedin some dark, prelogical era where all it asked for was notintellectualizations or rationalizations–all her belly wanted was thatprodigious prod sliding slowly in and out, in and out, pumping her full ofpregnancy, pumping her full of male chauvinism, pumping her full of thepeace–piece–pumping her full of the joy that passeth all understanding.God damn that dream! Her whole body was reacting–reacting to a goddamdream–and she wasn’t even fully asleep. She knew she was dreaming. Afterall, hadn’t she been having the same goddam dream every night, the samegoddam faceless man crawling silently into her bed, not even comingmanfully in on top of her like a conquering hero, but sneaking stealthilyup under the covers from the foot of her bed, slinking along with his headbetween her legs, between her thighs, doing his bungling, stiff-prickedbest to sneak up on her and get it into her while she slept …It was degrading. Without ever even seeing her face or exchanging aword, civilized or otherwise with her, he was just sticking his malenessinto her body like some a****l–using her with no more compunction thanhe’d use a piece of Kleenex. A piece of toilet paper, she decided, wouldbe more apt.And what good was her college education doing her? He wasn’t r****g hermind. He wasn’t r****g her body either. That was the humiliating part ofit. She could live with a **** fantasy, Paula knew. That was somethingoutside her, not a part of her. But to lie there passive, ready, waiting,willing, just to lie there while he crept into her bed like a thief in thenight, lie there without a struggle. She ought to kick, scream, fight. Instead, she was not even offered the consolation of terror.If only she could lie there too frightened to move, paralyzed by thesudden presence of a man in her narrow bed … But even that smallconsolation was denied her. Modern, college-educated, thoroughly liberatedPaula was nightly subjected to the ultimate humiliation in her fantasyworld. Instead of being assaulted and abused by some stiff-pricked KingKong, she lay there passive and waiting, not at all the master of her bodynor captain of her soul, lay there waiting for some timid sneak-thief toscurry into her bed, up between her legs, to work ever so carefully atteasing her drowsing body into missionary position, knees flexed and thighsspread wide so that he could slip it gently into her, holding hisfrightened breath and struggling to perform the impossible, to fuck alusting, deprived woman without waking her up. For Christ’s sake!And night after night she burned, ached, raged at her weakness, at hershame as night after night she felt her thighs spread, felt her body quiverand burn in anticipation of this shameful concession to her femininity. God damn it–why must she be so weak?A vacation? She’d just gotten back from one only five weeks ago. Ithadn’t helped a bit. She’d gone fishing, clad herself in flannel shirt andLevi’s, hip boots, every masculine, unglamorous accoutrement she couldthink of. She had stood ass-deep for hours in near freezing waters tryingto catch a big fish, knowing somewhere deep in her mind even before she haddecided on this abortive fishing expedition that a big fish–pesce grande,her grandmother would have called it–was old-fashioned Italian slang for aking-sized cock. And thank you, Hen Doktor Freud.Vacation–shit! She was going to have to quit this job, throw hercareer away, forget about emancipated woman and new frontiers, stow herselfsafely away in some comfortable woman’s hole of a job and leave thosehaunted, lusting eyes that saw through the severe tailored suits she wore,saw through jacket, saw through blouse, saw through bra, saw the rock-hard,throbbing nipples on that pair of full firm thirty-nines that had been hercross to bear, that had turned heads and had turned off minds, making herrage because all the time she was trying to argue a point and make somebodylisten to sweet reason all that person could see was a pair of tits, full,firm, appealing, totally unliberated behind that bra, totally nonverbal andconvincing that person not that she had a mind, only that she had a body,that it was a sin not to use, exploit, that body.And she had a body, Paula knew. Damn, did she ever have a body! Shewas tall for a woman, almost five eight. She was a little on the heavyside too–a hundred thirty-five. But it was distributed with a totallynon-intellectual symmetry above and below a twenty-four-inch waist–a fullfirm ass atop long straight legs, balanced by a firm bust and a pair ofjugs that would have made an ordinary girl seem top-heavy.Paula had stopped swimming years ago, only too aware of the effect ofher body on others. Once a man had caught an eyeful of her in a bikini sheknew he would never listen to her again without a mental image of thatsuperb body superimposed on anything she might say, like a double-exposureblotting out any argument, any common sense, fogging his mind with apink-tinged hint of patronizing prurience. Aw, you’re too purty to botheryour little head about things like that.What in hell would the world be like if supreme court justices wereinterrupted in mid-argument– “But your honor, all that groovy white hairand all those deep thoughts inside such a handsome old head!”And still that goddam little sneak of a man was slipping his great bigsneak of a cock, his big fish, into her, out of her, moving sounobtrusively he probably thought he was stealing a cheap thrill from hersleeping body.Even though it had been half an eternity since last she had sensed aman’s magic working inside her, Paula could tell it was a veryrespectable-sized fish for so small a man. And it was coursing so steadilyin and out of her cunt, poking her titillated pussy with the regularity ofa metronome, of a heartbeat.Whenever she stopped raging long enough to breathe she knew that nomatter how she might hate it, her long-deprived body was loving it. Hercunt might be liberated but she could feel a faint flutter as of untriedwings, like some bird too long in a cage and confused, frightened at theprospect of a liberty too free, a world too wide for weakened wings.God damn it all, if she gave in to this fantasy she was going to besopping in another minute. Already she could feel her prurient pussypulsating in time to that steady thrust, could feel tiny drops of love’slubrication preparing her for something that was not happening, was notgoing to happen as long as she had anything to say about it!But it was happening. Against her will she felt her rage soften untilshe could sympathize with him, whoever the poor bastard was, sympathizewith his need, with the wild, throbbing rage of his long-deprived body. Itseemed as if his honker had been sliding slowly and steadily in and out ofher for at least an hour, moving with the calm regularity of a pendulum,uncaring whether that slow steady eroticism were to melt her will, melt hermind, turn her liberation into bondage and wipe its ass on her diploma.Then he changed his rhythm slightly, stopping at the bottom of each deepstroke to grind his pelvis against the lush fur of her pubic bush, sendinghis rigid rammer around inside her, stirring her in deep circles, mixingher brains and her cunt into a passionate pudding of instinct that gave nota shit for all her preparation, her education, her liberation.Oh god damn it! Was she ever going to get back to sleep? If only shecould go one way or the other: either wake up all the way and go have ashower, douche the stickiness out of her crotch and go back to bed or, forChrist’s sake, forget all this prurient foolishness and go back to sleep.Did she have to spend the whole goddam night mooning here half-asleep,half-awake?She had a responsible position. She made decisions involving the livesof other people. She needed a clear head for her job. If this went on allnight she would be so sleepy that tomorrow she would look up unexpectedly,would catch a pair of eyes devouring her, unable to conceal their nakedhunger and if she were to look long enough into those eyes, Paula knew shewas in danger of falling in.Christ! It was easy enough to understand their need. They might beimperfect, incomplete, not especially likeable, but that naked need wasnot, at least not directly, their fault. But Paula … whose fault was itthat she had gotten herself locked into this crazy situation?Nobody’s but her own, she knew. There was no real reason why shecouldn’t have a discreet little affair, providing she didn’t flaunt itabout or rub somebody’s nose in it. But the trouble with having an affairwas that somebody she really worried about might find out. Paula mightfind out.And all her colleagues, all her friends, they wouldn’t be shocked ormind-blown. Nobody would ostracize her any more than they did now. Shewould not be asked to resign from any professional societies. No; thepenalty would be more subtle, more lasting, more totally and completelyunbearable. They would all smile and be tolerantly amused. Amused, goddamn them!And god damn this sneaky son-of-a-bitch who was fucking her! God damnthis indestructible dream! Sneaking in through the foot of her bed, upbetween her legs, and slipping it to her ever so slowly as if he thought hecould get away with fucking a full-grown woman in her right mind, in fullpossession of her faculties, as if somebody could fuck the daylights out ofPaula and not even wake her up. Still she struggled with that dismalhalf-awake, half-asleep sensation.There was only one way to come up out of it, she guessed. She would letherself slip deeper into the fantasy, imagine him banging deeper, harder,faster until finally he provoked a trembling spasm and then she would beawake, humiliated and cheapened but awake and away from this denigratingfantasy. She kicked at the covers and threw her legs in the air, sheclosed them in a loving erotic scissors over a dream man and oooohhh wow!It wasn’t a dream, Paula abruptly realized. There really was a manbetween her legs. He had his cock in her and he really had been fuckingher!CHAPTER 2Still partly asleep, Paula was forced to amend her last observation. Not only had the faceless little sneak been fucking her–now that she hadthrown her long straight legs in the air, kicked away covers and wrappedaround a fantasy that was suddenly real–now that she abruptly knew it wasa real flesh and blood man in there, a real flesh and blood cock sliding inand out of her–now she knew that despite her sudden explosion of movementhe hadn’t even hesitated in his steady stroking. He was still fucking her.He must be in some kind of a trance. High on something, perhaps? Sheopened her eyes and the room was dimly lit. She could barely make out theoutline of his head. His face was in shadow. She was still being fuckedby a ghost but as she clawed her way back into full awareness she began tosee a connection. It wasn’t just some sneak who’d found an open window andforced his way into the next open window between her sleeping legs. In away she guessed she must have invited him in. Not deliberately, nor evenknowingly. As if they didn’t always know …This morning early. That had been when it started. No. It had startedlast night with a phone call from that fine-feathered son-of-a-bitch who’dgone out into a world that welcomed men, gone from his bar exam straightinto private practice, moving every six months into a fancier apartment andworking his way from a battered VW to a Mark IV. God damned smart-ass!They had gone through law school together. Paula had graduated andgotten a job. In the time it had taken him to move from a VW to a Mark IVshe had gone from nine to twelve thousand per annum.And last night he had called.Not that land of call, she had remembered. She guessed it had beenyears since he had wasted his time trying or even bothering to batter at awall which– Anyhow, it had been strictly business. “That banquet thing,Paula.” Before she could give him a proper blast he had hastened with, “Iknow you’re not going. Neither am I or anybody in his or her right mindbut there’s a bit of PR to be done for the bar association.”Paula had still been ready to tell him to stuff it when she rememberedthat she was a lawyer after all, that it wouldn’t hurt her career to beseen once in a while. “I’m tied up all afternoon and evening,” she warned.”No sweat,” Smart-ass rejoined. “They’re filming it so if you can justget down to City Hall early and hand the old bastard a plaque … “”Well,” she said hesitantly, “I guess I could do that much.””Fine! I knew you’d come through. Just put on some kind of long dressand be there before eight.””Eight o’clock in the morning!” Paula was so outraged she didn’t evenfind the breath to tell him she hadn’t worn a formal since– She was stillstruggling for breath when she realized the line was dead.God damn him! Chauvinist bastard! So the bar association wanted tohand his honor another useless honor. Why couldn’t some man do it? Or ifthey needed a sex symbol why not hire some bunny to shed her ears and tailand pop out of a cake? She had been dialing him back to tell him to gostuff it when she realized he must have cooked it up already, that he hadfixed it up with Christ only knew how many other people, and that if shewere to let them down the bar association would cooperate with his honor’sadministration to find dozens of little ways to make her life miserable. Vacation schedules could be reshuffled. Promising or at least nonviolentclients would go to more favored officers. She could end up with thepsychotics and the gorillas. Her paperwork could be sent to the wrongoffice, everything delayed. No matter how she might despise it, Paula knewyou could kick only so hard at the system before it started kicking back.Shit! She’d worked till after eight this evening. Now she’d have to bethere with her hair all fixed and everything in place in less than–lessthan nine hours! What on earth was she going to wear?She rummaged through her closet with a sense of despair, knowing therewas nothing even remotely suitable except the gown she had worn once twelveyears ago, back before she had discovered exactly how much of a man’s worldthe law world really is, back before she’d become so embittered that herwardrobe had gradually become nothing but pants suits.To hell with them! They were all men and they wouldn’t know whether shewas in style or not. And she didn’t care. She got it out. The gown wasnot at all what might be expected of an evening gown. It had long sleevesand a high collar, with seed pearls strategically placed around the bustline. But at least it fulfilled the requirements. It was floor length.She stood before the bathroom door mirror, holding the lame gown beforeher. Could she still get into it after twelve years? She stripped down tobra and panties and studied her reflection. She was full grown. But shereally wasn’t much bigger than she had been when she graduated. Sheslipped it over her head and struggled into it.It fit a bit tight about the hips but she guessed an audience of menwould probably approve. And if any women saw her, to hell with them. Butthe bust … she wondered if she could get away with buttoning it onlyhalfway. Perhaps some pins or brooches …The only real trouble was her undergarments. She had put on just enoughweight in the last twelve years to make the gown fit more interestinglythan the first time around. But now it fit just tight enough to outlinebra and bikini panties with perfectly visible creases. She sighed and tookthe damned thing off. Then with sudden inspiration she took off bra andpanties too.Standing before the mirror she surveyed full un-d****d splendor. Poorstiff-pricked bastards … no wonder they couldn’t keep their minds on thelaw when they were looking at that body, trying to decipher its gorgeousoutlines through all the severely tailored outfits–camouflages she was inthe habit of wearing.Her hair, when she let it free of that confining chignon, hung straightand blond almost to her waist. Her legs were long and straight and, bysome quirk of nature, possessed a special prick-stiffening quality whichmade them appear, even now when she stood barefoot, as if she were standingin exaggerated spike heels.Her hips were full and rounded, framing a belly that curved withfeminine allure punctuated by a deep navel built for licking. Her waistwas not really tiny but seemed that way because of the lovely bulge of hipsbeneath and midriff above.And her tits–those lovely jugs! Full, firmly all-American, upstanding,looking steadfastly onward, forward, upward with all the unlimitedenthusiasm of Kiwanis and Lions. Like twin headlights they illuminated hermirror, their nonsagging, never-need-a-bra roundness still capable afterall these years of turning heads on the street, of making judges forget orignore the finely spun thread of some legal argument.She didn’t need a bra–wore one only as an added safeguard lest herfirm, hard little nipples show through layers of clothing and drive one ofthose haunted-eyed yearning clients right over the wire mesh that separatedthem. She turned sideways and studied her figure for sag. There was none.Her belly bulged in just the proper direction. Her full, firm jugs’ upperslopes were twin ski jumps, curving with wicked unexpectedness as that longgentle slope approached a perky, skyward-pointing nipple. Their undersurfaces were ripe with the lushness of g****fruits–twin melons full ofsweet promise.And how long had it been since a man’s lips had closed over one of thosenipples? How long since a man’s hot hardness had slipped gently betweenher thighs, parted the blond-fuzzed labia of her vulva and done itschauvinistic best to rearrange the topography of her cunt country?Angrily, she tore her gaze from the mirror and began struggling backinto the formal. It still fit snugly and she knew she would have to walkcarefully if it were not to ride up on her hips. But, with a will, plusthe help of a few pins and brooches it could be done. She hung the dresswhere she could find it in the morning and stepped into the tub. While itwas filling she lay back, reveling in sensuality as near-scalding watergradually rose round her recumbent body, inundating her until her ass wasbathed in a roseate glow of not quite contentment. She lay inert while therising water converted the blond bush on her mons veneris into a tinytriangular island next to the larger round island of her’ navel-punctuatedbelly. Finally these islands were submerged and rising water exposed onlythe pink-tipped, firm-nippled aureoles of her matched set of jugs. Shesighed and sunk deeper in the water. Christ but she was tired!Paula nearly went to sleep in the tub but she was finally aroused fromher lethargy by cooling water. She pulled the plug and toweled offhastily. Not even bothering with a nightgown, she went to bed naked.And dreamed.She was a fair-sized woman but he was a giant and he was not ravishingher in the traditional sense of the word. He didn’t have her on her backin missionary position while he held her down and poured his masculinity toher in eight-inch doses. Instead, he lay on his back and she was on topand she wasn’t even lying down atop him. She was sitting, legs extended,her full ass firmly spiked on a prodigious prod that was not going in andout of her but was literally screwing, winding her down on his spindlewhile she spun down on him like a nut.He had his hands on her waist and he had his pelvis raised and he wasspinning her, eliciting a melody from her long-playing body as if she werea rock-and-roll record spinning on the erotic turntable of his cock. Andoh chauvinistic Jesus, did it ever feel goooood!She was gasping, her whole body quaking under the erotic onslaught ofhis prodding spindle. With each erotic turn he screwed it deeper into her.Her legs were high; she was jackknifed, her whole body weight supported onthat lovely lance that was stabbing her to a lovely death.Then suddenly she was not just spinning, screwing her hot humming nutdown around his bolt. Now he was bucking too, tossing her up and downwhile she spun; her thrumming vagina was being screwed to death and now asshe bounced up and down he was driving it still deeper into her with eachsavage, soul-shattering thrust. She could feel her innards start to melt,shift, transmogrify into startlingly new and erotic shapes.He sat up and such was his strength, his size, and his agility that evensitting up he could still hump her up and down, bend her legs up past herears and keep her spinning while still feeding his firm eight inches intoher, bouncing her up and down atop and around his erotic pogo stick. Onlynow he was no longer turning her by her tiny waist. Now her full firm jugswere his handles and he was spinning her faster, so fast they stuck outeven straighter, more provocatively skyward-pointing and with each turn heducked his face in to plant a kiss on first one humming, thrumming,rock-hard nipple and then the other. And oh Jesus chauvinist, didn’t itever feel gooooood!She could feel great rhythmic contractions course through her, eachsurge of erotic joy leaving behind a tiny residual tension that accreted tothe next pulsation of lust until her whole body vibrated with an ecstasy ofanticipation. God but it was great to be fucking again, to feel a hot hardmale back in the saddle, making his fleshy offering to the temple of heremancipated flesh, straining and tearing himself to erotic bits as hestruggled to pleasure her throbbing body.She could feel herself still spinning on his purple-tipped turntable,feel herself sliding up and down that prurient prod, feel her body reactingto something she had not learned in law school, her whole being respondingto an older, more natural law that she had never learned how to repeal.Her flesh was quivering with sweet torment, not just her belly but herwhole body. With each turn he kissed a nipple, thus managing to keep bothof those sensitive tips of her tits vibrating with a hope of future joy, ofmore, faster, deeper, now!The eight-inch auger that bored into her quivering flesh seemed capableof fulfilling, filling her full, of delivering on the most outrageous ofcampaign promises. My god, did it ever feel gooood!It felt so good she knew it could not last much longer. Nothing wasforever–especially nothing this mind-blowingly, flesh-meltingly good. Even as she spun, Orbiting around that erotic center to her being, shesensed that the pivot on which she rotated was subject to the same physicallaws as her lusting body. It was just a question of which of them wouldcome first. Which of them would know joyous fulfillment and which would beleft high and dry, needing, wanting, shedding tears of frustration andrage?Then suddenly she knew which one it was to be. She felt all those tenserubber bands inside her thrumming belly start to snap one by one and thensuddenly she was coming right in two, in three, into tiny shattered piecesof love’s culmination. Maybe she wasn’t exactly coming in two but Paulaknew with utter certainty that she was coming.CHAPTER 3Still in the throes of orgasm, she struggled with tangled sheets and agrowing feeling of familiarity. Damn! Did she have to dream off this wayevery night? Two or three times a night? Her cunt was sopping with love’slubrication and she was sticky all over. She got up grumbling and changedthe sheets. Still muttering, she showered off and went back to a clean drybed, knowing that unless she took enough sleeping pills to make her uselessand stupid all next day, that it would probably happen again beforemorning. Maybe she ought to see a doctor.A doctor with an eight-inch cock?It was so exhausting to try to stay angry with the whole world, withherself, with a creator who gave her a body with certain instincts and thendumped her in a society where … It was, she decided with a certainaccuracy, a pain in the ass.And having delivered herself of this prosaic opinion, Paula finallydropped once more into confused sleep where she toyed with ****, withvenery, with lust and perversions of infinite variety until she wasinterrupted in a mountain-climbing expedition, interrupted halfway up theslopes of Mount Orgasm by the tearing, jarring, tinkle of an indefatigablealarm clock.”God damn it!” she greeted the new day. As she came fully awake herdisposition was not improved by the memory of what she had to do thatmorning. Muttering curses like an angry Druid, she got her hair up in achignon so tight it threatened to pull her eyes into a slant. Rememberingthe creases from bra and bikini panties, she got into the long-sleeved,floor length formal and began hanging the too-tight garment about herfull-cut body, using pins and brooches wherever the endless rows of buttonsrefused to meet.Goddam, eye balling assholes that surrounded Hizzonner the Mayor wouldprobably think the ancient dress was designed to go on her this way, with agap here and there to make things interesting.She glanced at the clock and–shit! She had less than fifteen minutes.Hastily, she gave herself a final mirror check and decided it was goodenough. She rushed about the house looking at window latches and springlocks. She got in the Datsun, touched the garage door opener gadget,backed out, and was on her way full speed ahead and damn the fuzz.It was three minutes of eight when she surrendered her Datsun to theunderground parking attendant at City Hall. The goddam long skirt caughtin the automatic elevator door and she had to push the red emergencybutton, which cost her another thirty seconds before she could make thegoddam door close again and the elevator start moving. She had to presenta smiling, trouble-free countenance to Hizzonner and the TV crew. Howcould she manage to conceal the fact that she was boiling inside? Goddamchauvinist pigs! Why did she have to wear this silly thing? If theywanted sex appeal why not get a pretty boy? After all, that kind ofswinger voted too.It felt funny to be hurrying along without any panties. It felt funnywithout any pantyhose either-striding across the marble first floor of CityHall and feeling her bare inner thighs rub gently against each other witheach step, feel the labia of her blond-furred vulva move back and forthpast each other with a sensation very like something-hot, hard, and malecoursing in and out of her with every step.This early in the morning there was nobody much in City Hall except theregulars. It would be another hour before the endless stream of citizens,losers, and politicos began wheeling and dealing. The janitor and thecrippled woman at the news and candy stand looked at a woman in eveningdress at eight ay emm with glazed eyes that had seen everything.Paula tried not to think about the odd feeling in her crotch as shehurried across the marble atrium toward the escalator. The goddam dresswas like a hobble and she couldn’t make any time. She picked up the skirtwith one hand and it tangled slightly less with each hurried step. Therewas one longhair on the escalator ahead of her. He glanced back andsuddenly began running up the escalator. She wondered if she was thatfrightening and then saw the minicam. He was one of the TV crews who werehere to film Hizzonner getting this goddam plaque.Plaque–what plaque? It was one minute of eight. She hoped somebody upon the next floor at the head of the escalator would have remembered thedamned thing. As if Hizzonner needed another plaque. Must have enough toshingle his hunting lodge already.The escalator gave a slight boggle and she nearly lost her balance. Allshe needed was for this damned thing to quit now so she could arrivecompletely breathless. Damn her itching pussy! Shouldn’t have pulled herchignon quite so tight. It was stretching her eyes clear out of shape.The escalator glitched again and she dropped her skirt as she grabbed atthe handrail. Quit fussing, she told herself. Nobody in this town’s everon time. You’ll be the first one here and you’ll have coffee and acigarette with the newsmen and the TV people who’ve all seen it more timesthan you have and you’ll all laugh at Hizzonner’s latest stupidity andfinally an hour and forty minutes from now when he does arrive with boozeon his breath you’ll get on with this goddam presentation and it’ll lastall of seven seconds on the evening news and then you can forget thischauvinistic crap and get back to your own office and get some work done.God damn her burning, itching, flowing pussy! Would there ever be aminute in her life when she could turn it off and think about somethingelse apart from how nice it would be to have a man’s muffin-stabbercoursing valiantly in and out of her brimming cunt?God damn this gimping escalator! It glitched again and she nearly fell.Maintenance company was probably owned and operated by Hizzonner’sbrother-in-law. If ever she got enough clout and if ever she got off thecity payroll where Hizzonner couldn’t fire her at the first hint ofrebellion Paula resolved to put a bug in the ear of the next grand jury. It was time somebody put a mousetrap in the till for Hizzonner’s hand andhis grasping family.She was nearly to the top now and the escalator was still stutteringbut–to hell with it. If it quit she could walk the last few steps andemerge with a simulacrum of a smile on her face, give her mid-thirtyishbest imitation of some mindless sex object. She wondered if Playboybunnies in those absurd costumes were ever troubled with itching, burning,fuck-hungry cunts.Her face came up level with the second floor where she was supposed tomake the presentation and Paula’s worst suspicions were realized. Herwatch must be wrong or else somebody had made sure everybody in citygovernment was on time for once. The second floor lobby was full ofcouncilmen, ward heelers, TV crews, every damn thing. Aha! Why hadn’t sheremembered Hizzonner was off and running again? He needed all the freepublicity he could get and Paula, stuck in a city job and doubly skeweredby the bar association, Paula was struggling to put a smile on her face andhelp elect the old bastard again even if she hated him like homemade sin.As her head came up past the floor level the escalator gave anotherslight tremor. She struggled to ignore it, to ignore the mayor and all theleering chauvinistic faces as she peered into the TV cameras. What wouldhappen, she wondered, if she were to grab a microphone and call the mayor athieving bastard and announce her own candidacy?Fat chance. It would be her first and last appearance on TV. It wouldalso be the final appearance of her paycheck. She struggled to grin andbear it, make the best of a male chauvinist world. She peeled back herlips in a smile and the goddam escalator did its best to dump her in asprawling heap before the TV cameras, before Hizzonner the mayor.She kicked wildly and caught her balance and then realized with suddenhorror what was really happening. She had forgotten about that goddamlong-skirted evening gown. Halfway up the escalator she had let go of theskirt. Now the worn out escalator had snagged it, had gotten it thoroughlyentangled, and the idiot machine was doing its mindless mechanical best topull her to the floor, pull her through the floor, turn her intolegal-educated mincemeat as it passed through the mesh on its return tripdownstairs and upstairs down.She was squatting already. In another minute she’d be down. She feltthe skirt rip, remembered irrelevantly that she had nothing onunderneath–no bra, no panties, no nothing except the blond ringlets of herpubic patch. As if it made any difference when this miserable machine wastrying to kill her!She reacted instinctively, threw her arms and shoulders back andstraightened her legs. There was a magnificent rending, ripping sound. The escalator groaned for an instant and then she saw her long-sleevedevening dress go crunching through the grating, still in more or less of apiece as the escalator treads bore it down through the plating into theunseen Freudian underside of the machine, into some dark nether regioninhabited only by maintenance company gnomes.Paula straightened, shaking, her arms and shoulders still back and herfull firm tits thrust forward like twin headlights, pointing straight intothe impassive eyes of a half dozen TV cameras. She was so frightened byher near escape that for an instant she didn’t realize the fullsignificance of all those goggling male eyes, those TV lenses, the startledand absolute silence that filled the second story of city hall.From the corner of her eye she saw the smart-ass fellow law student whohad gotten her into this. He was staring as silent and wide-eyed as allthe others. Hizzonner’s slightly bourbon-focused eyes were attempting toput it all together. And Paula finally did.The goddam evening dress was gone forever. She stood here beforeHizzonner, before the bar association, before the city council, before sixTV cameras, and before Smart-ass and she wasn’t fully dressed. She had ona pair of high-heeled shoes. She wore her tight-pulled chignon. Inbetween the only covering she wore was the blond bush of her prominent monsveneris!It was worse than a bad dream. Paula had been having bad dreams toolong to even suspect this might be one. She was too alive, too totallyaware for this to be anything but the tearing, mauling, humiliating truth.She was naked before half the city! Naked before everybody sheknew–everybody who counted in her life.Hizzonner had finally gotten his unbelieving eyes in focus. He waslicking his lips. And now it was beginning to turn into a bad dream. Paula stood paralyzed, still frightened stiff by her narrow escape. Shesupposed she ought to make at least a token effort, put a hand over herpubic patch, try to cover her tits, turn around–do something!She couldn’t. Totally paralyzed, mouth dry, even her cunt dry for oncein her lusting life, she stood looking into the TV cameras, into all thoseburning, yearning male eyes that stared silently back.They were all paralyzed too, she suddenly realized. It must be at leastas startling to them as it was to her to be expecting a dignified ladylawyer and have it turn into an unannounced striptease. The barassociation would have a few uneasy years living this down. AndHizzonner’s political enemies must already be rubbing gleeful hands,thinking of all the wonderful uses they could make of this moment, all theunprintable jokes that would liven up the forthcoming campaign. Grimly,Paula realized that at least she had done something. Hizzonner wouldn’t beable to fire her for this. He’d be too busy trying to keep her from suingthe city. But she’d done her little bit to spike his campaigns Maybe theold bastard would lose, thanks to her.But at what a price? She could never live this moment down. If shelived another fifty years, if she were to grow as decrepit as Whistler’smother, Paula knew she would still be remembered for this unforgettablemoment before the entire city government, before six separate TV cameras.Oh Jesus!And still nobody moved. How long had she been standing there naked,arms and shoulders back, tits thrust out like a radiator ornament? Tenminutes? One minute? Not over two seconds at the most, she realized. Nowonder they talked about drowning men reviewing their whole lives. Itseemed to her that she had been there forever, standing on the block atsome slave auction, her body exposed for the delectation of all these malechauvinist pigs and who was going to bid? Would somebody buy her? Wouldsomebody take her home and **** her? Would somebody **** her twice beforehe got her home? Would somebody spread her legs and put his great thumpingmass of virility in between her legs, part of her quiff, stuff her full ofchauvinism and slide his male supremacy in and out, in and out until shemoaned and squealed and giggled?Dimly she realized it had happened. Somebody had broken the spell. Somebody had bid and bought her and now he was rushing forward to claim hisprize. Dimly she perceived that it was Smart-ass, her longtime law schoolrival. Of all the miserable chauvinist pig sons of bitches, he’d naturallybe the one.Totally undignified, totally lacking in courtroom decorum, he wasgalloping toward her, tearing off his topcoat as he ran. “Jesus H. Christ!” he gasped as he threw it over her shoulders, “Let’s get out ofhere!”CHAPTER 4She stumbled along behind him, unable to match her step with his. Smart-ass turned, saw the glazed look on her face, and wasted no more time.Hastily, he closed his topcoat around her, grabbed her like some hairybrute of a caveman, and galloped off toward the down escalator with Paulaover his shoulder.This isn’t really happening, she tried to tell herself but she knew itwas. No dream could scratch like this topcoat scrubbing her bare bellywith each bounce while he galloped down the escalator, across the marbledlobby, and down the flight of cruddy stairs that bypassed an elevator tothe parking garage.He’s going to get me in a dark corner and **** me, she knew. Theson-of-a-bitch had been trying half heartedly to get into her pants for aslong as she’d known him. But never quite hard enough. Until now he’d beenhappy enough to get his name in the papers with a succession of young hardbodies and, apparently, smart enough not to let any of these connivingyoung cunts hitch her wagon to his rapidly rising star. But now, havingfinally seen a full-sized spread of her irresistible charms, he was goingto make up for lost time, going to get her down in some dark corner of theparking garage and fuck her silly, fuck her until her brains turned topeanut butter and her cunt to mincemeat. He was going to-Instead of dumping her in a corner and threading his honker into her,Smart-ass, still dr****g her coat-wrapped body over his shoulder, fumbledin his pocket and then he was opening the door of a Mark IV. He put her inthe front seat, handling her like a length of rolled-up carpet. Momentslater they were driving out of the garage up onto the street and Paula knewdespairingly that it wasn’t true. He wasn’t going to **** her. Smart-assreally did have a sharp mind. While all those other dipshits had leeredand boggled he had rushed forward and struggled to spare her morehumiliation. Now he was taking her home.It didn’t occur to her to ask how he happened to know the way. He’dnever been there. In the twelve years since they’d finished law school andbeen admitted to the bar he’d seen her every day or two in the courtrooms,in chambers, in the restaurants frequented by City Hall people. They’dbeen friendly in a brittle sort of way and he’d never once visited herhome. Now, after a silent ride he was pulling up before her little house.He pulled into the driveway and touched a door opening gadget. Paula’seyes widened as her garage door flew open. “Any son-of-a-bitch who peddlesthese things for security merits whatever the law can ignore in the way ofcruel and unusual punishment,” Smart-ass growled as he drove his Mark IVcautiously into the space for her Datsun.Paula opened the door and bolted. “Don’t I even get a cup of coffee?”he asked plaintively as she shot into the kitchen.Both of her phones were ringing. She ignored them and raced into herbedroom, shedding the topcoat as she rummaged through the closet and founda quilted robe. Then she realized that, no matter how much Smart-assannoyed her, he really had been decent about it all. Belting her robe, shereturned to the kitchen, then remembered his coat. She went back to thebedroom and got it. When she got back to the kitchen he had alreadyrummaged through her cupboards and was plugging in a percolator.”I’m sorry,” he said.Paula looked at him in astonishment.”I know how you feel about the whole shtick,” he explained. “Next timethe bar association wants to give Hizzonner a few strokes they can hire abunny to pop up out of a cake.”The blue phone and the red phone both started ringing again.”Ignore them,” he growled. “You’re going to have every freak in TVrange propositioning you for the next three weeks. And it may even get onthe networks unless that k** in my office has sense enough to make a fewcalls and remind them about invasion of privacy.””In a public place?” Paula asked witheringly.”Nothing wrong with bluffing is there?” Smart-ass grinned. Thepercolator started muttering and Paula turned to the red phone.”Don’t!””I’ve got to. That’s the hot line for my parolees.” She picked up thephone and answered.”Miss di Stephano?””Yes.””This’s Harry Riggs.” When she hesitated the voice added, “Youknow–9173612. Uh look, Miss di Stephano, I’ve got a job. What I mean isa real job with a future but it’s, uh, it’s out of town.””How far out of town?””Well, uh, it’s out of state actually.””Harry, you know I can’t make new rules. I have to obey the law justlike you do.””But Miss di Stephano, it’s a real opportunity. My boss’ll go bond forme and he’s got all kinds of papers and references and–can’t I just bringhim around and see you?”Paula sighed. “Give me an hour,” she said. “My office.””Uh, couldn’t I come to your house? I’m right in the neighborhood.””I suppose so,” she said defeatedly. No matter what that burning-eyedbreaker and enterer cooked up she knew she couldn’t give him permission toleave the state.Smart-ass was looking quizzically at her. “Business as usual?” heasked.Paula nodded and accepted the coffee he was pouring her in her ownkitchen.”I was going to suggest you get out of town and lie low for a day or twountil it’s forgotten.”The other phone was still ringing. Smart-ass picked it up, listened fora moment, and put it down without hanging up. “First freak,” he said. “You’ll have to get an unlisted number for that one.””Who was it?””Sounded like that Daily News sharpie trying to pretend he was from thecity attorney’s office asking if you were going to sue.”Paula sighed and wondered if she really ought to go on vacation. Butshe’d just been on one. Sick leave? But she might turn out to be reallysick someday.She studied Smart-ass from the corner of her eyes. He really was ahandsome dude–early forties, tall enough to make Paula feel littlealongside him. He’d kept in shape, thanks to golf and sailing and handballand Christ knew what else. His hair was just starting to gray. She caughtherself wondering what he would look like naked–as naked as she had beenin front of all those chauvinist pigs. How big a cock did he have? Andsuddenly her belly was roiling again, all those little rubber bands insideher twisting up and getting ready for her little internal airplane to gosoaring in another wildly looping solo flight.Suddenly she knew that Smart-ass was studying her too. He finished hiscoffee, stood abruptly, and grabbed his coat. “Sorry,” he repeated. “Andif you ever change your mind, please put me at the top of the list.””List of what?” Paula asked absently. That breaker and enterer would bethere soon.”The list of them as would like to handle the merchandise,” Smart-asssaid with a gallant bow. “If ever you feel the need of a male chauvinistpig, please count on me.” Before Paula could reply he had exited into thegarage. She heard the garage door open, heard his Mark IV back out, heardthe door close again and then she was alone with her thoughts, alone withthe realization that good-hearted, friendly old Smart-ass wasn’t quite assmart as she had thought. Or possibly, she reflected, just not thatinterested.The only thing Paula knew for sure was that if Smart-ass had reallywanted to punch her ticket all he’d’ve had to do was pick her up again,spread her out on her bed, and mount her. She felt her belly give a littleflipflop. Jesus! What if he ever found out how near a miss? What if heever learned how she burned for a man, for a cock–his cock–any cock. Ifonly she could somehow manage a discreet little affair …Shit! If she worked at it possibly she could. Fat chance now though.For the next few months every reporter would be just waiting and hoping fora follow up story on Lady Godiva of City Hall. Shit!Suddenly Paula was crying angry tears of rage and frustration. She wasgetting ready to pitch coffee over handed at the kitchen wall when sherealized who would end up cleaning it up. She stood in mid-kitchen, stillclad only in her quilted robe, and : saw the blue phone was still off thehook. She put it back. Immediately it started ringing. She took it offagain and placed the receiver face down. Still sobbing, she waited aminute and hung up again. Immediately the blue phone was ringing again.She let it ring while she rummaged through the nightstand beside herbed. Finally she came back with a police whistle on a gold chain. Shepicked the phone up, blew the whistle with all her strength into it andhung up again. Immediately the goddam thing was ringing again. Shesighed, took it off the hook, blew the whistle again, then put the phonedown without hanging up. My god, was she on TV already? Didn’t the idiotshave sense enough to cut it or fuzz it out of focus or something?Was she already showing every crisp blond ringlet of her crotch to everylip-licking chauvinist pig of an asshole bandit in this city? What was shegoing to do?The doorbell chimed. She was about to ignore it when abruptly sheremembered. The breaker and enterer who thought she was going to make newparole laws and let him leave the state … She went to the door andlooked through the peephole. Hat in hand, he stood on her front stoop,looking very much like what he was: a paroled breaker and enterer, aratlike, George Raft of a man with straight, slicked-back hair, a prisonpallor, and a missing chromosome–the well-meaning little shnook who alwaysgot caught in the cogs of the machinery because he quite simply couldn’tunderstand that he wasn’t all that smart, that you don’t break and enterexactly the same way over a hundred times without even the dumbest of copslearning to say, “Aha, Harry Riggs is on the street again!”But who got caught in the cogs of the machinery this morning? Paulaforced her face into an amiable neutrality and opened the door. “Goodmorning, Harry, like some coffee?” she asked.Harry most assuredly would. He followed her into the kitchen like aneager insurance salesman reincarnated as a puppy dog and was sitting in thechair recently vacated by Smart-ass before Paula even remembered that shestill wore only her robe. She hoped Harry Riggs had not seen the TV newsyet.”Well Harry, apart from not letting you leave the city, much less thestate, what can I do for you?”Harry wasn’t saying. He had a manila envelope under his arm. He put itdown and began removing his topcoat. Underneath he wore a cheap suit thatcame from the same factory that clothed all her clients until they got ajob or went back into the rackets. Paula turned her back on him and beganfixing coffee. “Kitchen’s a mess,” she said, “Why don’t you go sit in theother room and I’ll bring in a tray.” She remembered how short of money,how often these poor losers were actually hungry and decided it would costher nothing to pile a couple of sandwiches on the tray. It was fiveminutes before she was finished. *Damn! Ought to duck into the bedroom and put on something but it wouldtake time and the poor man had already waited too long and she was going tohave to tell him no anyhow so … besides, the bedroom was reachable onlyby going through the other room where he would be sitting on pins andneedles waiting to tell her all about his chance of a lifetime. Still inthe chignon and high heels with which she had greeted Hizzonner the Mayor,plus a quilted robe that would conceal the rest of her providing she wascareful how she sat and didn’t let a knee or a whole damn thigh escape,Paula picked up the tray and walked into the front room.”Harry!” She was so startled she nearly dropped the tray. Goddam! Hadshe gotten her files mixed up? This was Harry Riggs, wasn’t it? The manwho had made a career of breaking and entering? She couldn’t recall anyother information in his file. So what on earth was he doing standingstark naked in her front room, his clothes in a neat pile at one end of thesofa, his cock in full erection?”Harry, what on earth are you up to?” she babbled. “Have you been acloset flasher all these years?” Damn! had her morning been so hecticshe’d gotten him mixed up with some deviate dingbat?Harry’s face was grim and unsmiling, his eyes glazed. She rememberedthat look–had seen it countless times on the faces of these men locked upaway from women, so hungry that even the sight of a fully clothed woman wasenough to make them gasp and ejaculate. Had Harry seen the TV newsalready? It didn’t seem to make much difference. She had let him into herhouse and now he was carrying an invitation one step farther.CHAPTER 5Paula stared, fascinated, her eyes ranging up and down his naked,scanty-haired body. His cock, she noted, was uncircumcised. It was infull erection, heavy veined, an angry purple head peeping from histight-stretched prepuce. It was pointing straight at her and for the firsttime she truly appreciated the impact that her full, firm tits must havewhenever they looked a deprived, sex-starved man straight in the eye.He was a wiry, muscular little man, no taller than she was. Shewondered if she could overpower him and wrestle him down long enough tocall for help. “Harry,” she said, “Don’t you know you can’t do this? Don’t you know what’ll happen to your parole?””Don’t shit me,” he gritted. “I know you want it. I know you’re ashard-up as I am.” Still moving toward her, approaching her with his ram ata dangerous angle, he continued, “Besides, who’d believe you? Told you Iwas comin’ over half an hour ago and you ain’t even dressed. Don’t try toshit me!”As he came close to her she could feel hot male heat radiating from thethrobbing head of his cock, warming her right through the quilted front ofher robe. She knew she ought to resist–hit him, run, do something!She couldn’t. Paula was paralyzed by the sight of this submissivelittle man stalking her with a stiff prick. It was as startling as if hehad suddenly grown a hairy face and fangs. “No, Harry,” she cautioned in atremulous voice. “No, don’t!”Paying no attention, Harry was pushing her nerveless hands aside. Hetugged at the sash of her robe and it fell open to display a swatch of herfrontage from neck to ankle. He put his arms on her shoulders and Paulafound herself once more in a remembered position just as she had shruggedout of that long-skirted formal devoured by the escalator.This time it was not a machine; it was a man undressing her. He pushedgently and the slick quilted sateen slid off her shoulders until the robecollapsed behind her like a deflating balloon.I can stop him, she told herself. I know I can. He isn’t any biggerthan I am and he isn’t any superduper athlete. I can stop him. If only Icould move.Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! He was rooting like a pig in the soft valley betweenher full firm breasts. His hands on her shoulders slipped down around herwaist and then he was bearing down until her knees bent and slowly theysank to the wall-to-wall and then they were both kneeling and he was stillrooting in her warm soft jugs and his arms were around her waist and he wasurging her backward and then she was on her back on her own living room rugand he was kneeling between her thighs and her knees were bent and, forChrist’s sake, she was falling right into missionary position and she couldfeel the heat of his hot hammering cock burning her thighs and then hisfingers were parting the blond-ringletted lips of her cunt and he wasthreading his cock into her and he didn’t even have a rubber on andoooooooohhhhhh it was going in.She gasped and tried to struggle but it was no use. He was on top ofher now and her will had turned to water and, ever since she had seen thatgreat thumping cock in full erection moving toward her, Paula had beenunable to do more than protest feebly and now it was in her and he waspushing and it was sliding smoothly, slickly, not hurting at all and, oh mygod, whether she had wanted it or not, her body had been ready and thisstiff-pricked breaker and enterer was entering her and he hadn’t even hadto break in. She could feel his cock sliding in, in, in deep into her,filling her full of maleness, full of the stuff her dreams were made of,only this wasn’t a dream, not even a nightmare. This was really happening.She was getting ****d in her own house, in her own front room, on her ownwall-to-wall rug and she was getting ****d by a convicted felon and he wasone of her very own clients and she had violated every rule in the book byeven letting him find out where she lived and, come to think of it, how didhe know?She had violated every rule of elementary security for a woman who hadto work with dangerous men and now that she had violated all the rules hewas violating her and he must have had it all the way in by now.Inside her it felt even bigger, harder, hotter, more chauvinisticallyinsistent than when he had been rooting piglike in her tits. Only he stillhad his face in her tits but now he wasn’t rooting. Instead, his mouth hadfastened over one firm, rock-hard nipple and he was kissing, sucking,licking while he still drove his cock deep into her. Finally she felt hishard bony pelvis grind against hers and guessed it was all the way in.”Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” he commented and held for a moment, grinding andscrewing his crotch against hers, mashing the widespread lips of her vulva,churning her insides into silly putty as his cock stirred round and round,stretching her clit and mashing it to the erotic edge of pain. Then justwhen she knew she was going to squeal and giggle and come and let him knowthe effect he was having on her, he began slowly to pull it out.”Don’t!” she gasped.”Don’t worry,” he panted as he switched to her other nipple. “I’ll putit right back in again.”That wasn’t exactly what Paula had meant. Or was it? She wondered. Jesus, it would be so nice just to surrender, let him fuck her silly andworry later about the consequences. But what would he do afterward? Hewas a convicted felon. Surely he couldn’t think she was going to take thislaying down. But she was taking it laying down, damn it! But once it wasover …Could he possibly think he was such a ladykiller she would simper andbeg him for more and never ever blow the whistle on him? Or was he realistenough to have other plans? If he understood this meant he would be backin the joint and wouldn’t ever get close to another parole officer …He was going to kill her. First he would fuck her–fuck her half todeath and then if she was still gasping and breathing he would find someless pleasant way to do it. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Ifshe could just reach the telephone …Fat chance. He’d bang her over the head and finish pouring his loadinto an u*********s body and once he was finished with her he’d dosomething to make sure she never woke up.While she struggled to find some way out of this mess her body wasreacting instinctively to the feel of something hot and hard, somethingmale, something real after all those endless empty months of dreaming. Sherealized with a start that he was still pulling out from his first stroke.Either he was going in slow motion or she had finally been shocked out ofher months’ long session of lethargic eroticism and was finally thinking onher feet (on her back?) like a legal beagle was supposed to think.She opened her eyes and he was still there, still real, his slight,hard-muscled body atop her, between her legs, his mouth busy bussing canlı bahis hertits, licking first one firm hard nipple and then the other. And all thewhile that prodigious prod she had seen jutting from his crotch–it wasmoving in and out of her as slow as an hour hand, slow as a voucher fortravel expenses. My god, he was slow!Paula had never been ****d before. In the depths of her fantasies shehad played with the idea, worked up wholesheikh-k**naps-me-takes-me-to-the-desert technicolor dream sequences, butwhen she was awake and thinking clearly she had always assumed it would bea messy and unpleasant business. Any man so hard up and crazed that he hadto **** could hardly be thinking of a woman’s pleasure or of deferring hisgratification until she …But this infuriating little man who had made her play roundheels in herliving room–he wasn’t jigging frantically up and down on top of her. Hewasn’t whambamming, struggling wildly to get in just one more stroke beforeit exploded and left him impotent, limp and limber atop a woman who, evenif she felt like fucking, would not have had time to become properlyturned-on.Instead, he was feeding his cock to her slowly, with the steadyregularity of a metronome. It didn’t make sense. If he really needed awoman why wasn’t he whapping his ass against hers like a jack-rabbit onspeed? On speed?He wasn’t on speed. But as Paula remembered those glazed, staring eyes,that ardor so unlike this self-effacing little man she abruptly knew he wason something. Had he smoked a whole lid of grass? A half-gram of Moroccanhash? She didn’t know. She was supposed to know all those things and bealert for signs of d**g use in all her clients but Paula had in herlifetime smoked three joints, had ended up with a pain right behind herfull firm tits, a dry throat, and a tongue that tasted of camel dung. Shehad never felt the slightest need to repeat the experiment.Harry Riggs, apparently, had.She remembered stories musicians had told her of how it distorted theirtime sense so they could fool around with the beat and play the cracksbetween the keys. Did he think he was operating on central standard time?He was kissing and licking her tits just as she remembered the last time ithad happened–so long ago she really didn’t like to remember.But his cock … that prodigious prod had finally made it out of herand he was still withdrawing, pulling it out so far she could feel hervuval lips closing up, feel her cunt mourning the absence of thatlong-awaited invader. He hovered over her, the tip of his tool waveringand just barely parting her labia, and then slowly she felt it begin oncemore to work its careful way into her.Why was he so careful? Were r****ts always so considerate? Probably,she realized, he was on the point of explosion and didn’t dare let himselfgo lest his fuckfest finished before it had properly begun.Damn! She didn’t like being ****d but if it had to happen at least hecould do a proper job of fucking her. She wondered what would happen ifshe were to surrender to instinct, let her full firm ass come rising up offthe rug to meet his slow-as-molasses thrust.But she couldn’t surrender. Not only would it be undignified, it wouldalso be fatal. She had a pretty fair idea of what would happen once Harrycame, once reason prevailed and he realized he had just ****d the oneperson in the world who literally held the key to the next fifty years ofhis future.Christ! After all the burning and yearning she was finally gettingfucked and she couldn’t even relax and enjoy it. Harry, god damn him, hewas a male chauvinist pig too! And now she was going to die without everagain enjoying that most exquisite of pleasures, a full-fashioned,gut-wrenching, mind-blowing fuck.It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. She wished she could turn offher mind and concentrate on the smooth sensually delightful sensation ofthat hot hard cock sliding slowly in and out of her, in and out, fillingher, emptying her, filling her again, radiating joy from the round,thumping knob on its rock-hard tip.If only it could be different. He was not a big man, save down therewhere bigness counted. But he had a wiry, hard-muscled body and he wasclean, radiating only the not unpleasant smell of a male in rutting season.And once she had gotten used to the idea, there was nothing inherentlyunpleasant in lying here flat on her back in classic missionary positionand submitting to a slow-motion fuck.If only her body wouldn’t react so enthusiastically … She wondered ifwhatever he was on had left him enough sensation, enough awareness to sensethat, though she might still be tense and unwilling, J her cunt wasstreaming with love’s elixir, wet as if he had spent hours in long slowforeplay to raise her to this blissful state of erotic readiness.Was it possible to con him into believing she was a willing participantin this fuckfest? Abruptly, Paula knew it was her only hope. If he wasthinking Straight he must realize that a parole officer who had just been****d, that officer was in a unique position, able to make dead certain herassailant was locked up in the deepest of dungeons and the key thrown sofar no bleeding-heart social worker would ever even be aware of hissolitary existence in a sweat box. Dead certain.If she did not end up dead first …But who could say what went through a man’s mind when he was on whateverhe had taken? She reminded herself that if his thought processes had beencapable of reasoning out simple cause and effect he would have chosen somecareer with a less-hazardous failure rate than breaking and entering.But even if he was missing a chromosome, he was capable of killing her.She tried to relax and at least enjoy what promised to be her last fuck, ifshe could just convince him she didn’t want it to be her last, didn’t wantit to be his last penetration of her thrumming pussy …She took a deep breath and struggled to relax, to enjoy the steadycoursing of that thumping chauvinistic invader that marched andcountermarched in and out of her cunt. Then she noted that his slow,steady stroking was gradually picking up in tempo. Against her will, sherealized too that she no longer had to pretend. **** or not, it wasstarting to feel pretty goooooooood!CHAPTER 6Of all the goddam predicaments! This wet-headed, rodent of a man wasfucking her–r****g her. She was enjoying it. Against her will but everytime that great thumping thrill-drill coursed in and out of her she felt afresh charge of emotion. If it had been a real **** she would have beendry and it would have hurt but, woman’s libber or not, male chauvinist pigor not, the sight of his naked figure with that great thumping cocksticking out like a bowsprit had been enough to send a thrill through herlong-deprived belly, to start love’s lubrication flowing in her needfulpussy.By the time he’d finished stripping her robe off, forced her down ontothe rug, she had been ready, so ready his dry-shanked cock had slidsmoothly into her without the slightest shudder of rebelling flesh. Smoothly, he had parted her passion-swollen vulva and put his prod betweenher love-dewed labia. With a slow, smooth, steady push he had driven hisdong deep past her labia, deep into her .vagina, sliding smoothly andsliding deep, deep until his hard-boned pelvis was grinding against theblond ringlets of her long-unused pubic patch.Somewhere the phone was ringing and she realized she must have left oneof them on the hook. A lot of good it would do her now that she was nailedto the rug by his fleshy spike.That spike had seemed oversized when she had seen it jutting out fromhis lithe body. Now that it was inside her it seemed to have grown atleast twice as big or else she was shrinking. The knob on the end of hislance was still coursing carefully in and out of her but it seemed to havegrown to the size of a golf ball, a tennis ball, and now, even though shewas streaming with love’s lubrication, she could feel a passage that was nolonger smooth.My god, Paula thought, some of those yearning, woman-hungry men hadcalled her a bitch but she had never believed she could approach one thatphysically. Her cunt seemed to have gone into some spastic, shrinking,clutching convulsion that struggled to lock around the head of that slidingknob that still stirred her insides. She could feel the multiplex folds ofher vagina locking, pulling at his cockhead, puckering her vulva in as hepushed, pushing it in so far that even the outer hairy parts of her labiawere now slicked with the chrisms of love. Each time he pulled hislumbering bargepole back out the lining of her cunt bunched around it,moving ahead of the knob on his cock until her labia everted and half hercunt turned inside out in pink accordion folds of fluttering ecstasy.And no matter what her r****t had taken, he was feeling her tightclasping cunt gripping and pulling at his cockhead. “Aaaaaahhhhh!” hesnarled, still nibbling on her tits. He began pouring it to her harder,hotter, hurrying his beat until his wham-bam rhythm approached the joyousirresponsibility of a totally conscienceless stiff prick.Paula felt her body responding to love’s old sweet song. No longerknowing or caring who it belonged to, she was in total communion with acock–with the biggest cock she could ever remember having felt inside herlovely quiff. Chauvinist pig or not, it felt gooood!She felt her ass rising enthusiastically to meet his thrust and suddenlythey were galloping, wham-bamming to a joyous photo finish, still linkedtogether in classic missionary position and doing what came naturally. Herbelly was twisting and writhing inside, every organ stretching, tensing inpreparation for the lovely melting cataclysm to come. She could feel himbuilding for a climax too, feel his cock suddenly grow even harder, bigger,hotter as he rammed deep, grunting with the effort to give her the finalfull measure of his devotion.Suddenly her long straight legs were flying as she struggled to go toheaven feet first but he was on top and holding her firmly down to the rugas he poured his prodigious prod to her seething pussy.”Oooooohhh!” she wailed as all those little rubber bands inside herbelly started unwinding with a soul-stirring whirrrr. She was melting,moaning, twisting wildly in the throes of love, her legs clasping in joyouserotic scissor grips around his lean, hard ass.”Oooooooohhhhhh, aaaaaaahhhhhh, woowwww-ww!” he howled and then he wasspurting, shooting great gobs of goo into her as he fired his load,emptying his passion into her waiting cunt.Paula was coming. This was no dream. This time she was coming with allher heart, with all her soul, with all eight inches of cock in herseething, love hungry cunt. She was dying but it felt so good she wouldn’tmind dying again and again only it was feeling so good she couldn’t focusher eyes and suddenly she was falling backward, spinning down and downaround a funnel as she spun and dipped and slipped and sk**ded intoever-deeper blackness and then there was no light, no sensation at all.When she woke the little breaker and enterer had dressed already. Sheopened her eyes cautiously and tried to remember to smile. It wasimportant that she smile. If she didn’t …She managed and to her amazement he smiled back. “See!” he crowed, “Iknew you wanted it. No hard feelings?” he grinned. “Until next timeanyhow.” With a leer and a wink, he stepped out of her front door, leavingPaula ****d, shattered, naked on the rug of her own living room floor.She lay numb. How had it happened? One minute her life had beenorderly, everything in its place. And then disaster piled on top ofdisaster. ****d by a paroled breaker and enterer! And she had let him inherself. It would look extremely funny when she told the police about it.She could just see their knowing smiles. Then, remembering what hadhappened this morning with the TV cameras, in front of everybody down atCity Hall, Paula knew there was only one way she could handle thissituation.She could grin and bear it. If ever she were to complain, this outrageon top of her free show this morning would be enough to finish her forever.She had already embarrassed the mayor, had turned his presentation ceremonyinto a joke. He wouldn’t have a minute for her, for Paula’s outrage andmortification. Hizzonner would only remember how she had screwed up hisshow. And if she were to call the police now and report what happened,wouldn’t Hizzonner ever egg the reporters on to have a real field day atPaula’s expense!But that wasn’t yet the worst of it, she knew. There was something fora woman’s libber that was even worse. While that male chauvinist pig of acocksman had been fucking her, violating her privacy, using her as a sexobject, despising her mind, ignoring her erudition–what had she beendoing? Had she fought? Had she kicked and screamed and scratched andgotten a couple of black eyes defending her chastity?Bullshit! Instead, she had Iain on her back and kicked her heels in theair and wrapped her thighs around his sinewy back and she had moaned andshrieked and yodeled her delight as he violated her. Still flat on herback, with her cunt still brimming with joy juice, with the mixed essencesof male and female running thickly out of her pussy and down between thecheeks of her firm ass, Paula drew a deep, ragged breath, squeezed her eyesshut, and shuddered. It was no good. Soon she was sobbing.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have seen an earlynewscast or else he’d been there on the spot and had seen her. Could it becoincidence that mild-mannered Harry Riggs, professional breaker andenterer, had picked this of all days to **** his parole officer?That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have seen she was apushover, that she was round heeled whether she wanted to admit it or not.He must have seen past all her brittle self-sufficiency, seen that behindher facade of independence she was as empty, as deprived, as starved forlove as he was after doing five-to-ten.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have known before hewalked into her house what he was going to do, that he was just going tostrip for action and then he was going to walk up to her and undress herand put her down and put it in and keep it in and empty his five-to-tenyear accumulation of rancor, of loneliness, of deprived desire into herequally deprived duff.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have planned it allbefore he even phoned her. Big deal out of state! He hadn’t evenmentioned it, hadn’t seemed even slightly put out when she had told him nodice. Hadn’t had anything, probably, inside that manila envelope except ahandful of newspaper to make an impressive bulk.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have known how it was allgoing to work out, that she was going to surrender to her belly, that herindependence was going to melt and turn into come just as her brains hadturned into pussy juice and run right out of her cunt.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have known that shethought she controlled him, held his future in the palm of her hand.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have known even before hestarted that she was going to like it, going to need it, going to wantmore, that she was going to start squealing and moaning and wrapping herlegs around the man who was r****g her.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have planned it this way,fucking her into a dead faint and then getting dressed and leaving beforeshe even had time to make up her mind whether she wanted it or not, whethershe was going to turn him in or not.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch! He must have gotten out of theway quickly so she could be alone, so she wouldn’t be embarrassed to weepnow that she knew what she was really crying about, now that she knew shewas wailing and sobbing and moaning not because she had been ****d, butbecause he had gone off and wasn’t sticking around to do it again onlyslower and nicer this time, taking a little time for some smooth sensualforeplay.That miserable little son-of-a-bitch!She wanted to kill him. Putting him in prison was not enough. Afterwhat he’d done to her–not what he’d done to her body–what the hell, adouche and a shower and a half-hour’s rest and she’d be good as new, butwhat he’d done to her mind.She knew now exactly how much of an ass she had been all these years,what an ass she had made of herself by trying to pretend she didn’t have anass, that she only had some full, firm musculature designed to sit on, topiss through, to watch grow old and flabby.She had told herself she didn’t need men, didn’t want to play in a worldwhere the rules were stacked in their favor. Now she had to admit, notjust to the world, but to herself, that it wasn’t true. She might despisethem, might hate them with a purple passion but Paula knew she could neverever lie to herself again. Hate them she might, despise them even but sheneeded them. Maybe not every part of them. Like those chauvinist pigs whogot together to swill beer and sing, “I only want a body, not asweetheart,” Paula guessed she could do without scintillating conversation.She didn’t need clothes or social position in a man. She didn’t needanything in a man. All she needed was a man’s cock inside her, coursingsteadily in and out, in and out in the dance of love, fulfilling her,filling her full, fucking the chauvinistic daylights out of her.That was all she had ever needed, ever wanted, and now that miserablelittle son-of-a-bitch-that was exactly what he had given her! Why couldn’the have stuck around to give her some more?She still lay on her back, on the rug, blubbering, tears streaming downthe sides of her face, come streaming down the crack of her ass. It wasundignified. What if he were to see her now?And what was she doing wondering, worrying about what some goddamconvicted ‘felon thought? She took a deep breath, struggled valiantly, andmade herself stop blubbering. She tried to get up and was overcome with alassitude she hadn’t known in years. She felt relaxed, loose, as if everyjoint in her body had been painlessly disconnected. This, she realized,was the way cats managed to d**** themselves in unbelievable positions andsleep undisturbed while the world came to pieces around them. This wastotal relaxation in a way she had not been relaxed since–since she hadseen her life and her career sour in a blind alley–since she had turnedwoman’s libber.She lay still, managing to control her residual sobbing with deepbreathing and finally mustered enough strength to roll over and get on herhands and knees. Still fighting off an overwhelming desire just to liedown and sleep, she crawled into the bath and began fiddling with thevalves in the tub.She got the curtain drawn and flipped the diverter valve, recalling toolate that she hadn’t put on a shower cap. The water was not cold but itwas cool enough to rouse her from total lethargy. She rinsed off andsquatted beneath the spray to douche come from her comely cunt. Onlygradually did she become aware of the telephone’s insistent jangling. Shewondered if the goddam thing would ever stop ringing.CHAPTER 7She shut off the water and began toweling herself off. Her hair was amess but she wasn’t going anywhere. She’d gone far enough for one day. She sat before her mirror combing and drying those long blond strands thathad played such hell with her efforts not to appear as a sex object. Christ! What was she going to do? She knew from the slightly differentsound of the bells which phone was ringing. It was not the hot line forher parolees. To hell with the rest of the world and nosy reporters andfreaks and total idiots who would ask if she had done it all deliberatelyas if a woman would risk getting shredded in one of Hizzonner’s defectiveescalators just to get her picture in the papers and on TV!And so far as Hizzonner was concerned, she decided, it was up to him tomake the first move. If she saw the slightest hint of her career goingsour or promotion being delayed, Paula resolved she was going to sue theold bastard and his corrupt administration for every dime they’d everstolen. Hizzonner was a crook and a cheat but he was not stupid. Surelyhe or somebody close to him would realize that Paula was, after all, anattorney and as aware of personal injury suits as any ambulance chasingshyster. She would make careful note of the dates when statutes oflimitations would come into effect. That would give her time enough–andgive Hizzonner time enough–to get their heads together.And meanwhile back at the ranch, what was she going to do about her realproblem? She gave a bitter laugh. A while ago she’d been worried abouther unexpected striptease before the cameras and city council. Now she hadreal problems.There was one thing she’d better do goddam quick, she decided. Thatmiserable little son-of-a-bitch had leered and told her he’d be back. Heknew how much of a round heels she was. She knew that if he were to walkinto her house again and point those eight prodigious inches at her shewould roll over and play dead again. There was only one way to keep fromgetting fucked right out of her mind again: she had to make sure HarryRiggs, convicted breaker and enterer, did not get into her house againunless he broke and entered, whereupon she would be legally, morally, andnewsworthy entitled to shoot the little bastard.Paula finished drying her hair and hastily began making the rounds ofher house, shooting bolts, locking windows and doors. She checked outfront to make sure Smart-ass had closed the garage door as he left. Damn IWhat if Smart-ass ever found out about Harry Riggs r****g her? She couldendure exposure, had already endured it, she guessed. But how could sheever endure Smart-ass’s pity?She finished securing her little house and went back into her room,ignoring the steadily jangling phone. Then, tiring of the racket, shepicked it up, blew another shrill police whistle blast into it, and put thedamned thing down without hanging up. Dimly she could hear a tinny voicetaking the Lord’s name in vain.What was she going to do?There was, she realized, only one thing she could do. It had to bebusiness as usual. If she made a big deal of what had happened, so wouldthe rest of the world. If she took it in stride … even the worst ofscandals die down and many a whore has managed to die a duchess.The only really infuriating thing about it was she hadn’t really doneanything. It wasn’t her fault her dress got caught in that goddamescalator. She hadn’t even wanted to go through with that sillypresentation, with making herself a sex object once again in thischauvinistic world. It wasn’t her fault she’d been ****d either. So sheshouldn’t have let Harry Riggs in. Damn it! Her numbers–both ofthem–were unlisted. None of her clients was supposed to know her homeaddress. Either somebody had done a careful job of pumping illicit sourcesor that miserable little bastard had followed her home.The only thing that was really her fault, she guessed, was squealing andmoaning and kicking her legs in the air–her only real fault had beenenjoying it. So what could she do about that? Nobody had actually seenher enjoy it. It was her word against a convicted felon’s. But, sherealized, nobody had seen her being ****d either. She’d have to come toterms somehow with Harry Riggs. The miserable little son-of-a-bitch wouldbe trying to blackmail her next.He’d done her dirty once. It was up to her to get him back inside thejoint where he couldn’t do her again. Harry Riggs was going to breakparole and it would be nothing to do with her. All she had to do was makesure she didn’t give in again, that she didn’t let her mind dwell on thattremendous hunk of thumping masculinity which this slightly builthousebreaker carried between his sinewy legs. Housebreaker, hell! HarryRiggs had picked the wrong profession. Advertise those full firm eightinches and he’d be a homewrecker.But he wasn’t going to wreck hers. She made the rounds again, checkingevery door, every window, making goddam sure that little breaker andenterer would never ever get into her house again, would never poise hisslight body over her and insinuate his eight inches into her suddenlyfluttery cunt.Damn it to hell! Just thinking about him and she was all turned-onagain. Turned on by a r****t! She must be going out of her mind. Maybeshe ought to see a shrink. But wouldn’t that be a lovely item for thenewsboys to have fun with … lady lawyer stripteases, sees shrink to getit all together again.She caught herself wondering about Smart-ass. He was a high rollingswinger but he’d never married despite an abundance of willing candidates.What kind of a cock did he have? How was his bedside manner? What wouldhave happened if he had poured his socially acceptable sabre into herinstead of leaving and leaving the field clear to some breaker and enterer?What difference did it make? She was damaged goods now, saleable onlyat reduced prices. What in hell was she thinking? She didn’t want ahusband, didn’t want to be taken care of. She was an emancipated,independent woman, for Christ’s sake! She had to stop this crazy thinking,get her head back together. Get her legs back together.But even as she was making all these valiant resolutions Paula couldfeel the memory of that cock coursing in and out of her. My god! It waslike getting hooked on horse! It was like turning vampire. How could shehave known the depth and breadth of her appetites? Daydreams, nightmareswere one thing. But to open her legs to a cruddy little breaker andenterer …He wasn’t tall, wasn’t handsome, wasn’t young, wasn’t any of the thingsthat were supposed to turn people on. Paula had dealt with him off and onfor nearly her whole twelve years in this dead-end job. She had nevergiven him more than a passing thought. Never ever had she for one momentwondered what it would, be like to be fucked by Harry Riggs, breaker andenterer. Until she had seen his tiny, almost jockey-sized body naked, hadseen the sheer raw size and power of his prodigious, out-of-proportioncock. God, what a hammer!She remembered how she had lain helpless with her ass wrapped lovinglyaround that phenomenal phallus, totally enslaved by the slow sensuality ofhis metronomic in and out, all thoughts of emancipation and the liberationtemporarily tabled until closure of the present session of sensuality. Itwas just like that first time …Paula had been a late starter. Looking at her now, surveying thatfull-cut, totally voluptuous body, it was difficult for even Paula toremember that when she had been sixteen she had been of a skinniness nomore promising than that of another well-known Italian sex symbol at thesame age. Like Sophia, Paula had resembled nothing so much as a soda strawwith two marbles taped side by side along its upper length. Apart from apair of phenomenal tits, she had been, well–scrawny.Harder still had it been for her to understand that there comes a timein every man’s life when the battery will not hold a charge, when heroicmeasures are necessary, when the only way remaining for a man to manage ajump start is with the aid of just that kind of immature, just-budding bodythat first excited his own budding sensuality way back when he too had beenjust growing hair down there, just beginning to wake up with the solutionto life’s eternal problem in his sticky hand.Mr. Costello had been such a man. Turning sixty, with a leonine maneof white hair and well-clipped mustache, he had turned every head in thegeritol set. Even Paula had found him handsome and had been delighted whenher parents had approved her after-school employment in his office. Afterall, she wanted to be a lawyer and Mr. Costello was a lawyer and Mr. Costello had offered to start her off in the proper direction and …It was funny how invariably the reference Mr. Costello needed from hiswall-full of books always turned out to be on the top shelf and Paulaalways had to go up the rickety ladder to get it and Mr. Costello, nomatter how busy he was, nice Mr. Costello always had time to hold theladder lest she fall and bump her pretty little bumpers.Even funnier was the warm wiggly feeling Paula got inside her every timeshe climbed the ladder and hunted for his book while Mr. Costello beamedup at her and clung tightly to the ladder. “Got to get that thing fixedone of these days,” He kept saying but a month after little Paula hadstarted working for him the ladder remained as rickety as ever.There were times when she wondered momentarily if he were doing the samething boys at school did. But that couldn’t be so. He was a friend of herparents. He was a lawyer, an officer of the court And he was old enough tobe her grandfather. When the ladder jiggled and she almost fell and hegrabbed her right by her firm little ass, it had to be a coincidence. Justbecause Paula felt all warm and fluttery inside couldn’t mean Mr. Costellowas feeling anything apart from properly avuncular thoughts.Mr. Costello was such an old man. Afternoons when he was not in court,the genial old lawyer used to take a nap in the back room which had a daybed, a small but well-stocked refrigerator, and a lock on the door. Oftenhe would be just getting his head back together about the time Paula wouldarrive for her evening of reading the law. It was because he was so old,so nice, so safe that Paula loved being near him and even exchanged girlishconfidences with him. He was not at all like her harried father who was sobeaten down by the struggle to dress a teen-age daughter that he had notime to talk with her.When the ladder began jiggling more often and he had to grab her firmlittle ass more often lest she fall and bump her bumpers, there was such anopen, playful quality to it all that she was never really on her guard likeshe would have been if some pimply stud of her own age had made a habit ofgrabbing her ass. Not even when he warned her that, “A firm little bodylike that could give even the oldest man young ideas.””Awwwwwwwwwwwww!” she had protested.”Truly, young lady. All a simple matter of glandular chemistry, youknow. More marriages were made in hell than in heaven, as any divorcelawyer knows to his continuing prosperity. And just think of all theheartbreak and suffering that could be avoided if only humans would learnto separate the spiritual from the physical functions.”Paula had sensed that she was exploring the delicious edge of somethingnever before discussed. But she was still unsure just what attitude wasproper for a young lady under such circumstances to assume.”Such a premium our society places on performance–as if we all aspiredto some athletic ideal,” the old man said wistfully.Paula could almost understand what he was talking about.”Trouble with all the Utopian communities,” he continued, “is they’relike zero population growth: if they work, they destroy themselves. Ifthey don’t … ” He shrugged. “Tell me, young lady, have you ever heardof the Oneida Community?””Some place where they make silverware?” Paula hazarded.Mr. Costello smiled and patted her shoulder. “They do nowadays. Ahundred odd years ago they made social and sexual history.””Oh?””Even over a century ago the world was becoming over populated,” the oldman explained. “The Oneida Community was founded to solve this problemwithout removing all joy and the only relatively inexpensive recreationfrom people’s lives.”Paula was foundering again. What on earth was he talking about? He wassuch a nice old man and it made her go all quivery inside whenever hesteadied the ladder and beamed up her skirt. When, as increasinglyhappened, she almost fell and had to be caught by a surprisingly strong armaround her thighs and bottom there were times when she came so close tomelting she could actually feel a tiny trickle.”How did they do that?” she finally asked.”Very simply,” he explained. “They abolished private property.”Paula couldn’t understand.”In a capitalist society where women have no rights, you too, younglady, would have been regarded as private property.”Paula sensed that there were dimensions of the law and of human behaviorstill unexplored. “Oh!” she said in an odd little voice. She didn’t knowwhether her surprise came from the new and fascinating intellectual vistasopened up for her by Mr. Costello or if her “Oh!” came from his hand whichnow rested somewhat above her knee.CHAPTER 8With a jerk that shook her body as if she had lept physically across theintervening years, Paula returned to the danger-fraught present. To hellwith teen-age fantasies. She had just been ****d and she didn’t want it tohappen again, no matter how her cunt might continue offering unwanted andminority opinions on the subject of fucking.Nice old Mr. Costello had turned out even nicer than she had everexpected but had she really locked every door and window? Had she possiblyforgotten something? Paula was realistic enough to know that what hadhappened once could happen again.Harry Riggs had not exactly ****d her. It would have been **** if shehad resisted. But she hadn’t. An unnecessarily delicate point of law,perhaps, but she wasn’t discussing law. She was just trying to removetemptation, knowing that if ever that small sinewy body with the tremendousbowsprit were to approach her again, put hands on her shoulders again, sureas delays and injunctions, she would go round heeled one more time.She made the rounds of the house, fully aware of Freudian slips and ofthe perfectly obvious things that a mind can do when its owner tries toforce mind and body down an equivocal course of action. Somewhere aroundthis house she knew damned well she had left something open. The goddamphone was ringing again. She had left one off the hook so this had to bethe other–the emergency phone for her parolees. She guessed she’d betteranswer it.”Hello?””Ready for another?”Oh Jesus! It was Harry Riggs. She ought to have known it wasn’t justbluff. He had gotten into her once. He had seen through her sham, seenhow badly she wanted it, how she had surrendered to eight solid inches andto hell with eight centuries of common law.”No, Harry,” she managed, struggling for calm authority in her voice. “I’m a reasonable person and I know you were carried away and no lastingharm was done but you can hardly expect me to continue this way.” Even asshe said it Paula knew that was exactly what the ferret-faced little manwas expecting. And why shouldn’t he? She had given him no reason toexpect otherwise. There was no answer. Staring at the silent phone, shefelt a rising panic. Just this tenuous connection with that small wirybody, that tremendous phallic bludgeon … she could feel lust rising likea prickly heat from her belly until her tits, her shoulders, her face allblushed furiously. Thank god he wasn’t looking at her. “I’ll call thepolice!” she squealed.There was a chuckle and then she could hear the dial tone. She hung upand once more began her obsessive round of doors and windows, checkinglocks, checking latches, trying to divine what it was she was forgetting.She knew damned well there was a gaping hole somewhere in herdefenses–gaping even wider than her cunt when those tremendous eightinches had been threatening to split her from asshole to belly button.She twitched a d**** and looked out into the street. It was the wrongtime of day for traffic. She saw a single male figure walking up the blockand guessed it was the mail man, then abruptly she knew with dead, sinkingcertainty that it was not.Harry Riggs must have been phoning from right in the neighborhoodbecause here he came bold as Superman stalking right up the street, rightto her front door. She remembered that he was a professional breaker andenterer. But surely not in broad daylight–not in sight of every nervousold nellie who kept tabs on strangers in the neighborhood. Then she sawthat he wasn’t heading for her front door. Instead, he took something fromthe pocket of his ill-fitting overcoat and a moment later Paula watched herradio-controlled garage door gaping wide open. It closed after him asHarry Riggs, paroled breaker and enterer, budding home wrecker, touched theradio control gadget again.She remembered how Smart-ass had opened her door with his control. Somuch for security. So much for Freudian slips. Now what was she going todo?Suddenly she was thinking again. She raced for the kitchen. If shecould just bolt the door before … but Harry was already inside thekitchen, already shedding his topcoat. “Hi sweetheart,” he said blithely,and began undressing.”Harry, you can’t do this!” she stormed. “You’ll end up back in prison.Even if I wanted to, I don’t dare let you do it again. What do you supposewould happen to my career if the board ever found out I was mixing businessand pleasure?” Even as she said it Paula knew she didn’t want it, hadn’tintended for it to come out that way.But it had. And Harry was paying no attention. Still undressing,standing one-legged in front of her with no regard for an assault he knewwould not come, he danced about getting a leg out of his pants.You could conk him with a frying pan, she told herself. But she knewshe couldn’t. Already she could feel the a****l heat, the malenessradiating from his slight, wiry body. Already she could feel the stormgathering inside her belly.My god, she thought, fucked right out of your mind less than an hour agoand still so goddam round heels you can’t say no! What had happened to herwill? Where was her strength of character? Where was her independence?Washed down the drain along with this totally irresponsible little man’ssemen, that’s where! He had ignored all her protests, gone directly to theheart of the matter–to the cunt of the matter–and had taught her thingsshe didn’t really want to know about herself.He had taught her that she had no will of her own, that no matter howshe had trained and disciplined her mind to thread the maze of the law, allher training stood for naught whenever he decided it was time to thread herneedle.And now standing paralyzed, watching him undress, she knew the time hadcome again. God damn the miserable little bastard! He had given her justtime enough to clean up, to digest what had happened, time enough to makeall kinds of spurious promises to herself, and then here he was back allready to do it all again, to rub her nose in her ass, to prove to her thatall her education was nothing when placed before an older, prelogicalwisdom which she had forgotten but which her body had always known. He wasgoing to fuck her again.Simple as that. He was going to fuck her again. Again! And she wastotally unable to do anything about it. She could be calling the police.She could be struggling. She could whop him over the head with theskillet. She could kick him in the jewels while he danced about on one footand wrestled to get his recalcitrant trousers over the other. But even asshe contemplated all these possibilities Paula knew what she was going todo. She was going to stand there and feel fire coursing through her belly,going to stand there unable to move while he undressed, while he took hisown sweet time, and when finally he laid a hand to her lush and ready bodyshe was going to have to struggle even to utter a token protest instead ofthe shrill giggle of delight that she could feel struggling up out of hertight throat.It was crazy. She had dealt with society’s losers long enough torecognize the type of woman who is fascinated by low-life men, who loves toplay with fire and cannot resist the undercurrent of v******e in the livesof petty crooks–losers all in a society which has channeled v******e inways far more efficient than their muggings and two-dollar stickups.But Paula had never been that type of woman. She had never encouragedher yearning-eyed, sex-starved clients. Never ever had she dressedprovocatively. Never, until this morning in City Hall, had she everundressed provocatively. But … had this ferret-faced little man witheight, full, throbbing inches–had he even seen her this morning? Couldthis all be coincidence?This time his eyes did not seem so flat or weird. Whatever he’d been onthe first time seemed to have worn off. She wondered what had preventedhim from coming down with a thud, full of horror and terror at what he haddone to his parole officer. Then she saw the sad truth. Harry Riggs was abreaker and enterer because he was not smart enough to work at one ofsociety’s more legal larcenies like selling cars or houses. He was notsmart enough to realize that he might not be God’s gift to women. He foundhimself fascinating. Why shouldn’t everybody else?Why should Paula? Christ almighty! If she were to put the other phoneback on the hook, chances were she would have a hundred proposals orpropositions before nightfall. Oddballs, freaks, weirdos–of course. Butcertainly no less suitable for studding her than a paroled breaker andenterer!Still she stood paralyzed, paralyzed not so much by the sight of thissleek, ferret-faced little man undressing in front of her but rather by thememory of the prodigious prod that lay beneath his jockey shorts, thememory of what that potato masher had done to her insides.God, how she hated him! It was crazy. An hour ago she would have saidshe couldn’t even remember Harry Riggs, couldn’t distinguish him from aneven hundred hollow-eyed losers in her stable of parolees. Now …The nerve of the miserable little bastard! He could barely spell hisown name. He had spent half his life behind bars. He was totallyincapable of finding a useful niche in society.But he had found his niche in her! He had found it and he had burrowedinto her tender, ticklish flesh. He had pushed her unresisting body flaton her back on her own rug in her own living room and he had put his hot,throbbing cock into her and she had not been able to stop him and now hewas going to do it all over again and once more she knew she was totallypowerless to stop him. He was going to fuck her and she didn’t want him toonly she really did and it was all so unfair and she wanted to scream andif he didn’t hurry up and finish getting his clothes off and get on with itshe knew that sure as probate she was going to kick and scream and wail anddo all sorts of things lawyers were not supposed to do. God damn him!Why couldn’t she move? Why couldn’t she resist him? As if she didn’tknow. Finally, after all these years her body was extracting vengeance forall the deprivation that came from independence in a man’s world. God damnhim! Why couldn’t he move a little faster?Finally he was free of his clothes and stood before her with hisbowsprit standing out at a rakish angle, its tremendous, golf ball-sizedtip moving in lazy figure eights in time to his heartbeat. He moved towardher and Paula put up her hands in a feeble gesture to fend him off. Hepushed her nerveless hands aside and once more he was peeling her quiltedrobe back down over her shoulders while she stood like a sacrificial lamb.But this time he didn’t push her down to the floor. This time HarryRiggs had already blunted the fighting edge of his weapon and could permithimself the luxury of a long slow and careful buildup. He took her handand led her unresisting into her bedroom. With a nicety that surprisedher, he turned back the spread and blanket before pushing her gently backuntil she was touching the bed with the backs of her knees, then fallinggently backward, and he was coming down on top of her, kneeling between herthighs, and it was just like an hour ago.Or was it?To her surprise and horror, Paula suddenly knew that this time HarryRiggs was not just going to fuck her again. **** was not enough. Havingtried his wings and discovered how easy it was to fly, he was moving on tothe next logical step, moving slowly up her body, straddling her, no longerkneeling between her thighs.Now her thighs were pressed close together and his thin, wiry bodysquatted over her belly. As he moved a fraction of an inch forward shecould see the great thumping head of his cock pointing the way before him,onward and upward like the schoolboy Excelsior poem.His thighs were spread wide to straddle her and as he moved she couldfeel the smooth roundness of her belly react to the tickle as hiswell-haired scrotum dragged along it, dragged along her midriff, and thenthe fronts of his thighs were impeded by the twin bulges of her full, firmtits and the tip of his juddering tool pointed forebodingly onward, upward.Paula belatedly wished she’d used a little common sense. What had evermade her think this egotistical little chauvinist would be content torepeat his last performance? Now he was preparing to force her to theultimate in chauvinistic and porcine degradation. Why hadn’t she foughtback while she still had a chance? Why wasn’t she fighting now? Surelythere must be a way to get a grip on all that male vulnerability he wasthrusting so confidently forward, onward and upward.What was she going to do? Her turn-on of a moment ago was gone now,submerged in a wave of terror. God damn him! Was there no limit to hismale chauvinist piggery? Was there nothing she could do to protect herselffrom this ultimate degradation? She could feel the heat radiating like abranding iron from the tip of his cock. She could smell the essence ofmasculinity. She shuddered and could not tell if it was terror or if itwas joy she was feeling.CHAPTER 9Paula closed her eyes and tried to tell herself it was just anotherdream, that soon she would awaken afflicted with prickly heat, with astrained empty feeling in her belly, and with a dampness in her crotch. She opened her eyes and he was still there. His cock was still there. Shecould feel the hot hardness of his stringily muscled thighs pushing at thesensitive lower sides of her full-firm tits, forcing them upward until shelooked like some totally besiliconed go-go girl.But most of all she could feel the hot maleness radiating from the tipof his tool, so close now she could practically taste it. Unless she goton the ball and did something to break free and blow the whistle on thisbreaker and enterer, she was going to taste it very soon. And it was notgoing to be at all like the first time she had tasted it.”If you’d like to step into the other room,” Mr. Costello explained, “Ican show you some historical references to the Oneida Community.” Withoutwaiting for an answer, he got up, which automatically removed his hand fromsomewhere above her knee. Paula gave a tiny sigh of relief. She wasn’t abit worried about nice old Mr. Costello but she had been very afraid thatif he didn’t get his hand off her thigh she might betray her totallyimproper thoughts with a nervous giggle. Silently, she followed the oldman into the back office, which was equipped with a day bed, a single easychair, a wall full of books, and a well-stocked refrigerator. “Umm yes, upthere if you please.”Obediently, Paula climbed another rickety ladder steadied by her gallantemployer and pulled a book from the top shelf. She sat beside Mr. Costello on the only seat where they could look at a book together, whichhappened to be the day bed.She had been entertaining fond hopes of being initiated into aforbidden, grown-up world of racy postcards or any of the millioninteresting and secret things she was always being told she was too youngto worry about. Instead, to her disappointment, Mr. Costello had shownher some blurry woodcuts of a bunch of farm buildings and a lot ofnineteenth-century people dressed in nineteenth-century clothes from ankleto chin. She began to wonder if she could go home early that night. Theredidn’t seem to be much work in the office.”But what was so different about them?” she finally asked.”No marriage,” Mr. Costello explained.Paula knew lots of unmarried people. So what?”They found a different, possibly better way to solve mankind’s basicneeds.”She began to wonder if Mr. Costello was by any chance talking about aneed that had been troubling Paula ever since before she had been oldenough to demand a bra. With a tiny thrill of excitement, she managed atimid, “How did they do that?”Mr. Costello gave her a faint smile. “As you’ve no doubt observed bythis time, people in our society tend to pair off–formally or informally.Either way makes for monotony.”Paula sensed that she was approaching the brink of something important.She waited for Mr. Costello to continue.”Not wishing to over populate and not having the benefit of thiscentury’s contraceptive devices, the Oneida Community managed to kill twobirds with one stone: they lowered the birth rate while raising thecommunal libido.”Paula wasn’t quite sure what he meant. Did libido really mean what shethought? Was he talking about–about screwing?”Young men, as you’ve no doubt observed, are so high-strung anddemanding that just about anything will suit them. This coincides ratherneatly with an older woman’s delight in being called on to teach and trainall that eager young flesh at a time in life when she’s no longer tooconcerned with an inconvenient pregnancy.”Paula tried not to gasp. He was talking about screwing, no matter howelegant his language or high-falutin’ his choice of words.”This imbalance in the community naturally left only the older men topair off with the younger girls, a happy circumstance if one stops toconsider all the ramifications thereof.””Like what?” Paula demanded.”Boys, due to their inexperience and being in the glandular prime oftheir young lives, tend to have a certain affinity with rabbits.”For once Paula knew exactly what he was talking about. She had visitedher grandparents often enough and had observed rabbits in the process ofmaking more rabbits. For the first time she had understood another girl’ss**thing, “He’s a rabbit!” when discussing a football player of theiracquaintance. She began to have a faint inkling.”Young love inspires a great deal of bad poetry,” Mr. Costello saidwryly. “But love, like any other human endeavor, does not come naturally.The Oneida Community let the older women offer the benefit of their yearsof experience to boys just coming of age. These boys in later years paidtheir dues by performing the same service for the next generation of youngladies.” Mr. Costello paused a moment and added, “Odd, you may think, buteminently practical.”Paula didn’t know what to think. She had often wondered what it mightbe like to live in a society, in a culture, that permitted her free rein,allowed her to experiment and gratify the itch between her thighs withoutlabeling her loose. But even more, she wondered how Mr. Costello’s handhad managed once more to get between her thighs without her even noticing.Hastily, she clapped her thighs together but he did not remove hishand–not even when she crossed her legs.So now what was she going to do? Paula abruptly realized two things:Mr. Costello might seem harmless, seem nice, but nevertheless, he did havehis hand between her smooth, tapering thighs, had it well up the roadtoward that ineffable spot where two teen-age thighs meld into one firm,gently rounded, compact little ass. The second thing she learned was thatshe liked the feel of Mr. Costello’s hand there.She liked it there well enough to leave it there, to sit there on theday bed beside him with a book on their knees that described exotic sexualpractices. She was curious about the practical results of the OneidaCommunity’s sexual revolution. She was even more curious about what Mr. Costello intended to do with the hand he had now lost to the grip of hertight-clasped thighs.His white hair was unruffled, not a hair of his splendid mustache out ofplace. His florid complexion was just a teeny bit more rosy than usualbut, apart from that, Mr. Costello seemed unchanged. Paula caught herselfthinking wild thoughts. He was talking freely about sexual revolution. What would his reaction be if she were to throw her arms around his neckand kiss him?Golly! What was wrong with her? She had kissed a couple of boys andhadn’t been all that turned-on by the grabbing, hand slapping wrestlingmatch that had followed. So why was she so excited at the thought of thisnice old man putting his calm unhurried hands on her budding young body?Of course she wasn’t really going to do anything–much less did shecontemplate going all the way. That was why it was so nice to sit aroundwith an old man who wouldn’t engage in the hand slapping wrestling match,who would not press her to go farther than she intended. It was so nice,so safe to sit here with Mr. Costello’s hand between her legs and thinkall kinds of interesting thoughts and know nothing bad was going to come ofit”But what happened to the Oneida Community?” she asked, not because shewanted to know but because it was awkward just sitting here with Mr. Costello’s hand trapped between her tight-clasped thighs and neither ofthem saying anything.”It never actually ceased to exist,” he said, ignoring his hand. “Buttimes changed and the very nature of such an experiment means there will beno c***dren to carry on. As times and sexual mores changed peopleeverywhere started swinging just a little more and they just didn’t get asmany recruits.””I see,” Paula said soberly, thought she actually didn’t see at all,mainly because she couldn’t guess what was about to happen next. Was hejust going to leave his hand trapped between her tight-clasped thighs? There couldn’t be much fun in that.They sat in companionable silence and she caught herself thinking interms of those apocryphal strip poker games that boys and girls are alwayshearing about and never getting to play. If they were to get into a game,who would win first?There was little doubt of that–unless she were to have a phenomenal runof luck. Paula mentally inventoried what separated her just-budding bodyfrom total exposure. She wore fuzzy, ankle-length bobby sox and saddleoxfords. She wore a skirt that might be considered daring at someparochial schools but nowhere else since it came well below her knees. Herbutton-up-the-back blouse was high-collared and long-sleeved. Beneath itshe wore the only garment in her closet that had not come from the juniormiss counter. Her bra was thirty four “C”. On her slight, just-roundingbody the effect was devastating whenever she forgot to keep her arms foldedacross her chest and or her shoulders hunched.Apart from the aforementioned, the budding lady lawyer wore only a pairof sheer green nylon panties. She recalled abruptly that they were an oldpair, bought a year ago when she had been much smaller across that portionof her anatomy covered by panties and, should anyone ever happen to see herin panties alone, it would be interesting to see her go.But it wasn’t going to happen–not for years after she had worn out andthrown away these getting-too-tight panties. Meanwhile, why couldn’t sherelax? Mr. Costello had given bona fides of a total lack of fogginess. Surely in his presence she didn’t have to continue that arms-folded,shoulders-hunched posture which was her only defense against pimply-facedconquistador’s. She threw her shoulders back and stretched.The movement pushed her phenomenal pectoral protrusion forwardstartingly, until her blouse threatened to burst. For the barest ofinstants it seemed as if Mr. Costello might burst too. But the movementloosened her death grip on his hand for the barest of instants too and hermentor improved on the interval by moving his hand an inch closer todisputed territory before she remembered and clasped her crossed legs tightagain.The book of Oneida Colony pictures fell to the floor as Mr. Costelloturned half-around to face her. “Tired?” he asked. “I often get tired inthe afternoons. I find it very relaxing just to lie down for a fewminutes.” While he talked he unobtrusively got his hand out from betweenher thighs, leaving Paula with a vague sense of disappointment. Sheallowed him to scoot her down the day bed a few inches and swing her legsup on it. Soon she lay at full length and Mr. Costello sat–ratheruncomfortably, she suspected–beside her on the narrow frame, half-turnedto look down on her.Smiling gently, he patted her shoulder and flicked a stray strand oflong straight blond hair from atop her full firm tit. His hand came torest where the strand of hair had just lain–square atop her tit. Paulafelt a funny little twisting, turning sensation inside herself. It feltdeliciously wicked. She wondered what would happen if she were to put herhand over Mr. Costello’s. Not push him away–just put her hand over histo let him know that she was grown up and knew all about the interestingexperiments they must have performed in the Oneida Community.She wanted to try it, do anything that would keep this lovely old mannear her. It was funny how she had never noticed before the utter malenessof his well-barbered, well-bathed body. Some kind of cologne, she guessed.It was several hundred percent nicer than the grubby goatiness of her ownage group with their zits, their sweaty athletic preoccupations, and theireternal petroleum stinks from crawling around u******eing automobiles. Mr. Costello smelled nice.But, like every woman of every age, Paula was endowed with a certainnative caution. “There must have been accidents,” she insisted. “What didthese Oneida people do when something went wrong?””Accidents?” Mr. Costello raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Oh, youmean pregnancies. Of course they had a few. Young ladies of your age arenotoriously fecund, just as are young men. On the other hand, we of thegeritol set have been known to contribute on occasion to people pollutiontoo.””But what did they do?” Paula insisted, suddenly aware of all thedisastrous implications involved in Mr. Costello’s hand over her full,firm, never-been-kissed tit. Her taut young body was suddenly suffusedwith yearning for more hands in more places–a yearning rendered morepiquant by a knowledge of the danger involved. If she were to suddenly endup pregnant it would mean the end of law school–the end of everything. What was she going to do?”Modern technology,” Mr. Costello said, “Is amazingly resourceful. Andeven if we were living in the stone age, there are certain methods andprocedures which are infallible in the avoidance of pregnancy. Not onlyare these procedures totally foolproof, they’re also much more fun andthat’s the ultimate name of the game, isn’t it?”Paula’s eyes were much wider than they had been a moment ago. Now how,she wondered, had Mr. Costello managed to get all those buttons down theback of her blouse undone without her even knowing?CHAPTER 10Paula’s memory of another time had been fleeting. She was still staringat Harry Riggs’s lean, compact body, staring at his cock which was so closeto her face that she could feel heat radiating from it like a brandingiron.He squatted atop her chest, his thighs pushing her full, firm titsupward like some carnal corset. His hairy scrotum lay between hertight-squeezed jugs, tickling her faintly but she had other problems morepressing than being tit-tickled by a man’s balls.If only she could get her body under control. Here she was facing theultimate in degradation. He was going to make her do something infinitelymore male chauvinistic, more porcine than even his semi-**** of an hourago. And what was she doing? She could still gain the advantage over him,she knew. She could grab him where it hurt and have him quite literally bythe short hairs. But it required movement and she was paralyzed,fascinated by that full-sized, hot, throbbing hunk of maleness.Eyes half-crossed, she focused on the heavily strung underside of hisvirility. It really was as large as she bahis siteleri remembered–a full eight incheslong. My god! Had she had all that inside her? No wonder she hadfelt–ravished.The knob on the end of this breaker and enterer’s crowbar was perfectlyround and as big as a golf ball. His foreskin was rather short and nowthat his cock was in full flaming erection, its round head glistening andglowering with purple engorgement, she could see the single blind eye inthat head staring at her from the stretched-open tip of his prepuce. Itwould take only the slightest pressure to force that foreskin all the wayback and present her with a weapon field-stripped and ready for anyeventually.His foreskin was heavily veined and each swollen vein was pulsating intime to his heartbeat. u*********sly, Paula found herself counting andrealizing to her mortification that he was not as excited, his heart notracing half so fast as was hers.She remembered the feel when that prodigious prod had been sliding inand out of her belly, pushing her insides this way and that, churning herinto a pink-frothed mist of eroticism. Why couldn’t he do it that wayagain? If he was destined to do it at all, why couldn’t he just pour hiseight inches to her in the way God intended for men and women to mitigatethe burnings of the flesh. Now why did that old parochial school phrasepop into her head just then?She was still staring myopically at the long slim shank of his cock,which seemed even thinner after the dramatic flair of his tremendous glanspenis. Her belly gave a little flip flap at the memory of how that flaredcockhead had gone into her like a harpoon, the flare of his glans penisdigging into her yielding flesh like a barb, snagging, pulling, threateningto turn her tender cunt inside out each time he withdrew for yet anotherfull-depth plunge into the well of her lonely femininity.Unable to move, she studied at close range the weapon which haddestroyed her view of herself, her self-sufficiency, her tranquility. Goddamn him! God damn that piece of meat. It was just an enlargedclitoris–the same thing that lay like some vestigial memory of malenessinside the pouting labia of her pussy. There but for a chromosome go I,she realized. But she was not a man. She was a woman and thisson-of-a-bitch was a man and he was on top of her and it was bad enoughthat he fucked her at will, not even asking or inviting her cooperation. Now he was planning an even more outrageous assault on her privacy and whatwas she doing to prevent it?Nothing, damn her hot little pants! Women were supposed to be so muchmore analytical than men, supposed to be cold-blooded for the main chanceand not so apt to go ape-shit and sacrifice a career for a pair of tits. What was wrong with her? She had broken from her submissive, Catholicwoman background twenty years ago. She was a lawyer, reputedly able towork out logical connections and trains of thought between totallydisparate concepts. Where was her brain now? Was that tiny ticklingtrickle she felt between her legs–was that her brain, melted down intolove’s lubrication, betraying her, telling this outrager with a dip of thefinger that no matter what he were to do to her she would be unable toresist the lure of those eight fabulous inches?God damn it! It wasn’t fair. Men liked to fuck. Men fucked all thetime. But men could get their Jollies and button their flies and go off toplay a game of golf or close a deal or any of the other things that make aman’s life varied and interesting.Paula … when had her mind last been totally free of a faint overlayof fucking? Not since she had started growing tits, she realized. Sinceher body had grown old enough to consider the joys of sexuality she had notfor one instant been totally free of this distraction. How could sheconcentrate on torts when her ass was throbbing with a ceaseless desire fortorture?And here her mind went wandering again. Staring a one-eyed wormstraight in the face, knowing exactly what was coming next, she could stillnot keep her mind on business. Maybe it was because she had actually had aman so seldom over the last twelve years … had it been so long since shefucked that illusions, dreams were now stronger in her mind than realities?She wondered if this was just another super realistic dream and knew itwasn’t. He was squatting atop her chest, his balls nestled in the hollowbetween her abundant tits. His cock was pointing straight at her face. And she wasn’t moving, wasn’t struggling, wasn’t even murmuring a polite”No, please don’t.”Did she really want this to happen? Once more she was slipping awayfrom reality, trying to psychoanalyze herself instead of doing something.She was still struggling, trying to tell herself this was a real man with areal cock, with a real danger, when she realized that Harry Riggs, paroledbreaker and enterer, prodigious cocksman, was so sure of himself that hewas no longer in any hurry. He was not moving forward now. He was backingoff, sliding his balls along her midriff, across her waist, down her bellywhere he could squat to admire the full-length perfection of her lush body.Once more he was at a safe distance. She could see him without focusingher eyes now. He spread her legs again and knelt between them. Was hegoing to fuck her after all?She felt her belly give another little tremor at the thought of all thatraging masculinity inside her, pumping her full of the stuff dreams aremade of. God damn him–couldn’t he get off the dime and something?Then, dimly, Paula sensed that her assailant was having problems of hisown. He was breathing hard, panting as if he had been wham-bamming for tentantalizing minutes. His face was screwed up into an agony she hadhitherto seen only on crucifixes. Abruptly, he gave an inchoate roaringmoan and sprang from the bed.Before she knew what was happening he was back again only wrong end to,his face buried in the soft warm wetness between her thighs, his eighthammering inches once more poking at her face.As his tongue began its first circuit around the hot hardness of herpassion-swollen clit Paula gave a gasp of supernal, uncontrollable delight.And that gasp was her undoing. As if that blind opening in the end of hisswollen cockhead were an eye, she felt his lunge drive that dong straightpast her lips, past her teeth, past tongue and soft palate, straight downher unsuspecting throat. The things his busy tongue were doing to her cuntfilled her with such a frenzy of delight that she hardly realized she hadhis eight-inch burglar’s tool in her mouth, down her throat. She washaving so much trouble separating reality from illusion that her mind oncemore retreated into memory.Now how had Mr. Costello managed to get all these two or three hundredbuttons on the back of her blouse undone without her even suspecting? Notthat she minded, Paula guessed. After all, it would have been brazen forher to start undoing them herself. She remembered the rumblings and teethgnashing that occurred every time a boy of her own age was so bold as to… but that was largely why she preferred this blouse.None of which had anything to do with the moment. Mr. Costello waspulling the blouse forward off her shoulders and she wasn’t even putting upa token resistance. “Mustn’t get your lovely clothes all wrinkled,” hesaid smoothly and finished pulling the white material down her arms. Paulalay on his day bed, now clad only in her saddle oxfords, bobby sox,below-the-knee skirt, and a thirty four “C” cup bra of green satin. Sheremembered irrelevantly that it was, at least, the same color as herundersized panties.She had to do something, say something. He was a nice old man and sheliked the clean male smell of his body but this was getting as dangerous asback seats on Saturday night. “Uh, what did they do to prevent accidentsback in the Stone Age?” she asked brightly.”Any number of things, all of which I’ll be delighted to show you,” Mr.Costello said. “But to put your lovely legalistic mind to rest, yourpresent partner is undoubtedly the safest choice on this benighted planet.Not only am I a very old man and probably well past the age of procreation,but also, having done my familial duty to society many years ago, I tookadvantage of a bit of surgery which has been known and practiced at leastsince Aristotle’s day. The operation, despite propaganda to the contrary,is irreversible. There is no way on earth that I could ever render themost willing candidate pregnant, thanks to a vasectomy which has stood thetest of thirty years.”Benumbed by this facile flow of verbiage, Paula only caught the word”vasectomy.” It was a word she knew. It was, she had known for some time,the principle reason why she was an only c***d and if the priests wantedany more, then let them raise them, her harried father had snapped.But Mr. Costello had not been idle. While explaining these details hehad been systematically and efficiently removing his own clothing andstacking it in a neat pile over one arm of the easy chair. The other armheld only her blouse. But while Paula was noting this inequity she feltcapable fingers working at the waistband of her skirt and a moment latershe was doubly thankful that she had at least had the foresight to choosebra and panties of the same color.Had she been more knowledgeable of male thought processes, she wouldhave realized that Mr. Costello would not have cared what color her braand panties were. He was already busy pulling off her saddle oxfords andbefore she had time to cavil his arms were behind her back, lifting herhalf off the day bed as he found the hooks to her bra. Now that, Paularealized, was something new. Only twice had fumblers of her own age gottenthat far and each time the boys had been thwarted by a total inability toget a bra unhooked. Mr. Costello had been around.Gosh! Was this really happening? She really hadn’t intended for it togo this far. It had always been fun of a sort to wrestle with boys, to geta mild turn-on and amuse herself with their discomfiture. Boys were tooeasy to divert. They would believe anything–even that it could be thewrong time of the month for three weekends in a row.But Mr. Costello, she abruptly realized, was far from being a boy. Ifshe were to offer excuses now, begin stalling and making vague promises fortomorrow or next week or next month Mr. Costello would give her that sametolerant smile of amusement which came whenever she wandered far afield inher girlish efforts to establish some rudimentary relationship between thelaw and life as it is lived by the breathing, suffering victims of the law.”Uh, what’re you going to do now?” she asked.”That depends entirely on what you’d like me to do,” Mr. Costello saidgallantly. But she noted that without even asking what she would like hebent over her, kneeling now beside the bed instead of sitting on it. Hegave her a perfunctory kiss and before she was quite used to the sensationof a kiss backed up by a mustache that mustache was tickling its way downher throat, across her chest, and then he was fastening his lips right overthe hard, throbbing nipple of her pink aureoled left tit.It was the first time anyone had ever practiced that delightful exerciseon Paula. She felt a deep surge of excitement course through her virginbody. It felt almost like an electric shock. She was tingling from crotchto eyebrows and she knew suddenly that she was blushing all the way,blushing all over her whole body and he must be watching her blush becauseall she had on now were her fuzzy white bobby sox and thosebought-a-year-ago green panties which cut so interestingly into the outlineof her firm little just-blooming bottom.Without missing a lick, he switched smoothly to her other nipple andbegan running his tongue in delightful, unbearably and erotically ticklishcircles around the sudden rock hardness of her tiny virginal nipple. Gosh,did it ever feel gooood!She had experimented in her bath, in the loneliness of her narrow bed,running her hands over her body and pretending they were somebody else’s.The experiments had suggested that great things lay in store for her oncePaula found a partner for these experiments–preferably some male who wouldbe clean, discreet, and would never even think of making her pregnant.Now she realized to her delight she had exactly the sort of partner shehad dreamed of. She wondered if this project had really been in the backof her mind even before Mr. Costello had learned she was interested in thelaw. Or had she actually become interested in the law only after she hadbecome interested in Mr. Costello?She wondered what would happen if ever she were to confess that she hadalways had ambivalent feelings about this ever-so-nice old man. What wouldhe think if she were to tell him she knew he had been making up excuses tohold the ladder, to look up her skirt and admire the contours of her firmlittle ass–finding excuses to jiggle the ladder and grab that little assleast she fall and bump her lovely bumpers. Then abruptly she knew he wasdoing it again. Without missing a lick on her firm little nipples, hishands had discovered her ass. Smoothly, he was peeling her green pantiesdown.CHAPTER 11Harry Riggs’s abrupt end for end switch had caught Paula unprepared. One minute she had been staring eight inches of cock in the face as hesquatted astraddle her tits and the next minute he had abruptly changed hismind and decided to do a little tasting of his own.Her lush body had been prodded and pummeled until she lay on her sideand now he lay on his side too end to end, facing her, his eight enormousinches of erection once more poking blindly toward her face, only this timeHarry had jumped the gun. He had grasped her knees and spread them, divingunceremoniously to place his mouth over her suddenly gaping cunt.It had all happened so abruptly Paula was totally unready. As his handscame off her knees and his wiry embrace settled around her ass she felt herthighs close around the bulk of his head. She wondered if he was trying toheat her up with some kind of mechanical gadgetry, and then realized with alittle start that those twin foci of heat that were burning herthighs–those were Harry’s prominent ears!Then his tongue violated the gap between her widespread vulval lips. Ashe ran that rasping organ up one soft damp inner lip and down the other shefelt a sudden thrill of erotic delight. Her belly began to thrum as everytiny tissue inside her reacted to the rub of love. Gone were her worriesand inhibitions. The son-of-a-bitch might be a male chauvinist pig, mightbe totally unacceptable from a social or financial standpoint. But with amouth and tongue like that … it felt so good she almost forgot about hiscock.But that thumping throbbing essence of maleness was waving wildly onlyinches from her face, searing her with the radiation of hot, hardmasculinity. She struggled to control herself, tried to remind herselfthat this was ****–carnal knowledge against her will, that Harry wascommitting a felony and would have to be punished for his effrontery. Itdidn’t work.All she could think of was that mouth pressing lips to her lips,pressing tongue to the passion-swollen super-sensitized inner surfaces ofher thrumming cunt. He was devouring her, eating her pussy with such gustothat she knew he would not stop until the last morsel of her lusting bodyhad been consumed.It felt so wildly, so wonderfully good she could not think of anythingelse–could not think at all, only revel in the sweet sensuality of thatquesting tongue roaming at will in the tender trench of her took his.His sensual tongue seemed to have an instinct for the most tenderlyticklish, erotically sensual, and sensitive parts of her pussy. He lickedup one lip and down the other, drove his tongue deep up her vagina andpoked in delightfully new directions, stretching that receptive membrane inways as sensual as they were strange, filling her, thrilling her in waysnot even eight erect inches of cock could do.Some tiny, still sane comer of her passion-riddled mind kept trying totell her it was still ****, that he had forced himself on her not once buttwice now and that, no matter how nice it might feel, she had excellent andsocially approved reasons for wishing this little bastard, this lovelytongued little bastard were dead–destroyed before he could finishdestroying her already precarious position in society. Jesus! What couldshe do if somebody were to find out she was being laid by one of herparolees? The papers would have more fun with her than they had had withWatergate.But while she was struggling to remind herself that she had a mind HarryRiggs’s agile tongue finally stopped licking up and down her labia, ceasedsounding the empty well of her vagina. He paused a moment and caught hisbreath and then, with unerring aim, darted the tip of his tongue once morebetween her gaping labia to touch the round, marble-hard knob of herpassion-swollen and supersensitive clitoris.Paula’s noise was not exactly a scream. It was more a wail, a shriekcompounded of equal parts of joy and despair. She knew the last barrierhad come down, that no matter how she might despise this little man withthe big cock–no matter how she might despise herself for succumbing tohim, her body was reacting in ways totally alien to her legalistic mind.It was useless any longer to pretend she was anything else but a slaveto her body, to her passions. This little bastard could do anything hewanted to her. She was powerless to resist and she knew it and he knew itand “Ooooooooohhhhhh!”That “Ooooooooohhhhhhhh!” was her undoing. As her mouth opened wide ina final cri de coeur for lost illusions she felt eight unerring inchesslide past her lips, past her teeth, past tongue and uvula, and then shewas swallowing, struggling instinctively to force this hot throbbing lumpof meat the rest of its lascivious way down her throat.But Harry’s tongue running in lazy circles around her clit, his firmembrace around the twin roundnesses of her ass, everything combined todistract her. She felt her ass rocking as she attempted to meet a thrustthat was not even there, that was up here where a bony, black-ringlettedpelvic ridge banged against her nose, retreated, banged again.Harry’s iron self-control seemed to have evaporated too. He wasthrusting madly, with no thought of pacing, ramming his cock frantically upand down her throat and she wanted to retreat but he had such a firm gripon her and her ass was whipping so enthusiastically against his tongue thatshe couldn’t control herself. She was choking but it felt so goooood. Shewanted to free herself of this octopus embrace but unbelieving, she felther arms around Harry’s ass, pulling him to her just as he was pulling herfirm round ass to him and they were locked together, unable and unwillingto break free from the all-entangling tentacles of lust that held thementhralled, writhing, twisting, poking, probing, struggling frantically toextract the final flicker of eroticism from this complicated encounter.She was choking and strangling from the friction of all that hotthrobbing meat slamming in and out of her mouth, up and down her throat,but his tongue running round and round her clit felt so good she couldn’tcomplain. Her body was reacting whether she willed it or not,wham-bamming, bobbing her head up and down his cock, her ass up and downhis supple tongue.Then she felt a tiny hint of moisture and the raw throbbing cock wassuddenly sliding easily up and down her throat and then ooooooohhhhhhh wow!He drove it deep down her throat until her lips were mashed against hisscrotum and against the bony hardness of his pelvic ridge. She could feelhis rock-hard cock grow to critical mass and then it was emptying inceaseless explosion, pumping, squirting, shooting great gouts of jizz deepdown her throat, so deep she couldn’t even taste that succulent fluid as itissued from the frantic firehose so deep down her throat that he wassending his seed directly to her stomach.She didn’t know or care what was happening. Paula was too busystruggling to cope with the sudden dissolution as her belly melted,shifted, flowed into strange new and erotic shapes until it seemed as ifher very soul was running around his tirelessly probing tongue.Even as she felt herself surrender to this total assault of eroticismPaula knew she had come before but never like this. Other times things hadbeen new and everything was a first time experience with no standard ofcomparison. Now she had standards. She also had nearly twelve years oflonely self-sufficiency with which to compare this moment of madness.God damn him! Twelve years invested in liberation, in emancipation, andin two brief hours he had destroyed her investment, had put her back onsquare one of a Stone Age game where women waited, sat passively and waitedfor the one important event in their drab and wrenched lives: waited forsome man to come along, raise his eyebrows, raise his cock, and fuck them.If only it didn’t feel so all-pervadingly, mindblowingly goooooood! Shewas coming down now. They were both still thrusting feebly but the heightof their twin peaks of erotic culmination had passed, leaving them stillgasping and fluttering with a residual lascivity.”Oooooooohhhh!” Harry Puggs, paroled breaker and enterer moaned.”Aaaaaaaaahhh” Paula, broken and entered, sighed. For a moment she wascontent, able to put aside all thought of past or future. Then as sherelaxed that tremendous eight-inch-long plug came out of her mouth with a”thuck” like the cork from a bottle of sparkling wine. She was sleepy andlazy, totally relaxed, but already a worm of worry was borrowing into hersensual satiety, robbing her of the tranquility and rest she had earnedfrom this magnificent exercise in eroticism.Treating her with a fragile respect for the first time, Harry got herhead off his stringy thigh and went into the bathroom to rinse off. Leftalone, she began to sink into a rosy glow of satiation, unwilling to thinkabout the future. Then she half-sensed that Harry had left the bathroom.She supposed he would be dressing and exiting once more from her life,ready to return only when he once more had a hard-on. Christ! What wasshe going to do?She heard him moving things and then the phone rang. He nipped the ringin the bud, jangled the receiver until he got a dial tone, and then he wastalking in muffled tones just below her threshold of audibility.Paula felt a little thrill of fear. What was this r****t doing with herphone? Christ only knew what he was up to now and if he were consummatingsome illicit deal … she had been wondering for several years now if atleast one of her phones was not bugged. Hizzonner’s administration was asfreaked out on bugging as Nixon’s. Jesus! What kind of a mess was thismiserable stiff-pricked little bastard getting her into now?She heard the phone come down on the hook again and immediately it rang.Harry picked it up, listened a moment, and then Paula was suddenly wideawake, roused from her lethargy by the shrill sound of a police whistle. Harry had seen the weapon she used against inquisitive reporters and he wasdoing his shrill, full-lunged best to shatter some nosy news hound’seardrum. For the first time in hours she almost liked the little man.He put the phone down without hanging up and, still naked, padded backto where she still lay flaccid and spent atop her bed. “Better clean up alittle,” he suggested, and began helping her to her feet.She was so fucked-out and satiated that she could hardly stand. Shewanted just to be there a while and revel in full and complete relaxationfor the first time in twelve years–just lay about fucked-out, emptied, notknowing or caring how went the cause of women’s lib.But the slight-bodied breaker and enterer chivvied her off the bed, ontoher feet, and then he was in the shower with her, rinsing come smears fromher face and neck, washing jizz from tangled strands of her long blondhair. As if he had spent every day of his life inside the joint doing thissort of thing, he cupped a hand in her crotch and pumped expertly, forcingwater up her cunt until she was washed empty of the chrisms of love thather body had offered to his quietly questing tongue.She was still half-asleep in a rosy glow of eroticism when he gave her askin-tautening, cunt-tightening blast of unadulterated cold water. She wasstill struggling to muster strength enough to swear at him when he turnedthe water off and began drying her, devoting tender loving care to everyinch of skin on that flawless, lushly proportioned body.He spread her legs and patted her pussy dry, scrubbed the towel in herblond ringletted pubic patch until the last hint of dampness was gone. Hewiped the cheeks of her ass and wiped her crack. He twisted a corner oftowel to probe deep into her navel, lifted each tit in turn to pat dry thetiny strip of skin where those firm hemispheres were just beginning avoluptuous surrender to gravity.He wrapped towels about her, rubbed her long blond hair in more towels,ran a hot comb through her hair while she stood bemused in the middle ofthe bathroom wondering if this was the way show horses felt when groomsswarmed over them currying, combing, brushing, doing their all to enticeanother dollar from some sucker who would be buying.What on earth was he up to? A tiny tendril of suspicion entered hermind. Damn it! He was preparing her for public exhibition. Did thismiserable little bastard of a breaker and enterer think he was going totake her out in public, show her off on his paroled arm, do his ultimatebest to scuttle her career?No god damned way! It was bad enough to be ****d by him–bad enough toknow she no longer had the will power to resist his eight inches ofpersuasion. But Paula was damned if she was going to cooperate in her owndestruction. He could fuck her again someday if she were stupid enough notto change the lock on the garage door. She knew she was going to havewrite this off to experience, would never dare blow the whistle on thislittle bastard and try to convince some grinning leering cop that he hadreally ****d her. But no way was she going to dress up and go out on thestreet and be seen in public with this cruddy little loser!He led her out of the bath and into her front room. Still naked, Paulawondered what he was going to suggest and then abruptly she knew it was notthe way she had imagined it. He wasn’t going to take her out to dinner orshow her off anywhere. Harry had been preparing her for something else. Now she belatedly remembered his brief phone conversation. Whom had hebeen talking with? She was going to find out very soon, she guessed.The front door of her house was opening.CHAPTER 12Now why, Paula wondered, hadn’t she thought of that? With a sinkingfeeling she knew exactly what it was she had not thought of. The signswere all there. Harry Riggs had always been a loser–not even a competentbreaker and enterer if success is measured by the time one manages to stayout of the Joint.He had been mild-mannered, unaggressive. Of course he had always lustedafter her but that was only natural. All of them lusted after anythingwith tits except those who had been converted into flaming queens by theirsojourn in the Joint.So what had sparked Harry Riggs’s unassertive personality into ****? Some kind of dope, of course. But where had he gotten it and who had hetaken it with? Who had discussed things with him?She could see it all now: a couple of gray-faced losers doping somewherein a cheap room, telling recreational lies about all the women they hadfucked, and then Harry would go into some song and dance about the pair ofjugs on his parole officer and Jesus, wouldn’t he like to get his cock intoher!One thing would have led to another and, two heads being twice as bad asone, the scheme would have been hatched. And Harry Riggs’s mind must havebeen blown right out of his head at the totally unforeseen success of hiscrazy idea. He would have gone back and told his partner all about it,would have been disbelieved, would have offered proofs and grudgingly theother would have decided it was worth a try. The man coming through thedoor would be wondering if it was for real or if he was entering a trap toface a dozen hard-faced cops with shotguns.There would be little room for doubt in his mind once he found hisfriend naked in her living room. And once his eyes burned over thecontours of Paula’s lush, freshly bathed and powdered body clad only in herpublic hair, there would be no doubt at all.Christ almighty! Without even hesitating to check out the scene, thestranger was peeling off his topcoat and dropping it on the floor behindhim. He gave Harry a brief glance and flicker of greeting, then turned andshot the front door bolt behind him. He was the fastest undresser she hadever witnessed. Strewing clothes like a miniature tornado, he waltzedabout her living room, dancing on one leg and then the other rather thansit down and take his pants off the easy way. Must be some habit fromprison days, Paula guessed.He was a little taller than Harry Riggs, perhaps a couple of inchestaller than she was. He was also younger, with bright red hair still shortin a prison cut. And saving up god only knew how many years’ accumulationof frustrated fucking to punish my poor pussy.He turned to face her again and she saw a vulpine similarity to Harry–astreet wisdom that transcended anything that can be learned from books. She wondered what screw was missing in his mental equipment–what hadturned him against society and made him a loser instead of a successfulpolitician or businessman. But her attention was not really focused on hisface. She was studying the hard-on that jutted aggressively from a pubicpatch of the same luxuriantly red ringlets as his scalp.His cock was not as big as Harry’s. But neither had its swollentumescence been reduced twice in as many hours. The red-headed man’s cockwas circumcised. With a little shiver of anticipation Paula realized shewas about to garner another new experience. She despised herself for notbeing horrified, for not being terror-stricken. The two of them were goingto use her up like a Kleenex. And, she realized, they would dispose of herwith no more compunction than if she were a used Kleenex once they hadsatiated their long-standing hard-ons.And still she could not get herself into the proper frame of mind for a**** victim. Against her will she felt her eyes riveted on that greatthumping bald-headed hard-on. She had never actually seen a circumcisedcock before, she abruptly realized. She knew about such things from anintellectual stand-point but to stand naked in her own living room and lookat a naked stranger with a naked, bald, dry-headed cock was carrying carnalknowledge beyond the sterile bounds of intellectualization. God, it lookedbig!What would it feel like to have that great dry cockhead driving intoher? Would it hurt? Irrelevantly, she caught herself wondering aboutsomething far afield from her forthcoming ****. She knew well enough howmen played on their skin flutes to alleviate loneliness, using a lovinghand to slide a foreskin up and down, back and forth over the slickglistening sensitivity of a throbbing cockhead. It was not all thatdifferent from the things lonely women were wont to do with a finger, acandle, a banana or even a mop handle if there was no man handy to supply anatural need.But what recourse was there for a man whose parents in some savage andsadistic mood had decided to punish him in advance for having a body, forhaving needs like any other human being? His cockhead was bald and dry. There was no way to cosset it into the splendor of a solitary eruption. Staring wide-eyed at her first circumcised cock she also abruptly realizedthat this cockhead had spent a lifetime rubbing bare against hisclothes–against everything. It would be calloused, insensitive. It wouldbe dry and would hurt like hell going into her but if she could contributeenough of love’s lubrication …There was a sudden revolution in her belly as she realized that thisman’s loss was her gain. He would be hair trigger from months, possiblyyears of accumulated lust. But his bald-headed, calloused cock would alsobe inured to friction that he might have a staying power beyond her wildestand most lascivious dreams.My god, she thought, what’s happened to you? It’s bad enough being****d. Do you have to look forward to it? Pollyanna couldn’t have beenmore cheerful facing the prospect of two sex-starved losers–men desperateenough to do her in once they were through doing it in her.But it was too late now. If only she’d had a little willpower she couldhave nipped this whole thing in the bud. A couple of hours ago Harry wouldhave slunk off with his eight deflated inches between his legs if she’dbeen firm enough to ignore that firm phallus, to tell him in no-nonsenseterms to go fuck off instead of dithering and tacitly inviting him to fuckher.In an even contest she suspected she might even have been able to fightoff Harry Biggs, jockey-sized breaker and enterer. But two men bound onfucking her? There was no way now–nothing Paula could do to avert theforthcoming bacchanalia. “No,” she moaned.The red-haired, bald-cocked stranger grinned at Harry who stood behindher, naked as she was, as he was, holding her lightly by her upper arms. Then, unable to resist, she felt Harry’s grip pulling her down until herrubbery legs collapsed and she lay on her back in the middle of her livingroom wall-to-wall.Belatedly, she understood what this meant. Her bed was big enough forher. It had been ample for her and for Harry only minutes ago. But nowthere were three players in this erotic game and the bed was big enoughonly for two. Harry Biggs, phenomenally phallused breaker and enterer,apprentice home wrecker, had no intention of sitting on the sidelinesquietly charging his batteries while his friend got in his innings insidePaula.With a rising panic she wondered what they would do to her. There wereonly two things they could do, she realized. One of them was going to plugher pussy with a great thumping hunk of masculinity. The other was goingto **** her tonsils.Would she be able to breathe? Would two cocks at once be too much foreven the most willing of women? Would it be fun? Would they keep it up,keep driving that bare-headed, calloused cock into her until once and forall she’d had enough and didn’t ever want to think about fucking again?How many more times would Harry Riggs get that eight-inch monstrosity uphard enough, rigid enough to penetrate her fragile flesh? Would thered-headed, bald-cocked stranger’s smaller weapon make up in sustainedfirepower what it lacked in calibre?Were they going to kill her? Would they kill her with kindness–makeher come so many times that finally her straining heart would surrender? Unwillingly, she found herself contemplating a lifetime of defendingwoman’s rights in a male chauvinist society and wondered if it might not bebetter to die now, die happy, die with eight full firm inches of manhoodlending some spice to her drab and wretched life.The red-headed, bald-cocked stranger was kneeling between her legs. Shecould feel hot maleness radiate like a branding iron from the exposed headof his circumcised stabber.God damn them both! This was supposed to be a **** and Harry wasn’teven holding her down. He had retreated somewhere out of her line ofvision and she was left only with the knowledge that somewhere he wassurely watching, that a practice she had always seen as essentially privatewas now public: Not only was she about to be ****d again–this time it wasto be before an audience!Though it was her first experience with a circumcised cock, Paula notedthat it seemed to be beginning very like every other time she had beenfucked. He knelt between her thighs, grasped her knees to bend them andtilt her ass up to the proper angle, and began working the bare bald headof his hammer up and down her secret slit, wetting and smearing it with thelubrication of love which had already rendered this **** suspect. Howcould a woman be ****d when her pussy was streaming, giving the lie to herunwillingness?God damn them both! How could they have guessed? Was she thattransparent, so obvious in her need that even these burning-eyed,long-deprived lusters could see how badly she needed it, how neatly she hadboxed herself into a corner of women’s lib and locked herself into a prisoneven more confining than the Hotel Graybar they had just left?This is ****, she reminded herself. This is invasion of privacy,invasion of pussy! Not only am I being ****d, I’m being ogled anddelectated by an eight-inch-cocked voyeur who’ll be studying me forpointers so he can make me go even more insane when it’s his turn to ploughmy garden again. God damn them both! God damn all stiff-pricked,conscienceless men! God damn myself for needing them so bad I can tasteit!As unhurried as if he’d spent the last few months or years of his lifeservicing a harem, the red-headed stranger was still slowly and carefullydragging his cockhead up and down the slick-smeared labia of her gapingvulva. Each time the rough skin of his cockhead rasped over herfibrillating clitoris Paula shuddered and barely managed to refrain fromscreaming. It hurt. But it hurt so gooooood she didn’t know what she wasgoing to do once he decided to drive his dong deep into the properreceptacle and no longer drag that rasping, thumping, throbbing bald headpast her thrumming clit.Finally the inevitable happened. Still kneeling, reared back where hecould admire the full length of her stripped and perfect body, he drove hiscock deep into her with a single smooth thrust which, thanks to his carefulpreparation, did not catch or pucker and try to drag her vulval lips insideout around a clinging dry cock shank. It didn’t hurt at all, she realized.To the contrary, it felt nicer that anything else she had yet experiencedin this two-hour-long fuck fest.He bottomed out, driving so deep into her that she wondered momentarilyif his cock was an optical illusion, if some subtle trick of dimension madeit only seem shorter than Harry Riggs’s eight unbelievable inches.Paula gasped, held her breath, and hoped her assailant would interprether look of delighted disbelief as another manifestation of outrage andpain. Jesus, what a cock! She wondered if the totally unyielding rockhardness of that bludgeon that was stirring her inner depths–was itbecause he was circumcised and his cockhead was hard-skinned, or did hejust have a bigger, hotter, more needful hard-on than her first violator?She struggled for sanity, struggled to remind herself where she was,what she was, that she was a parole officer, that these two men were paroleviolators, violating both their parole and their parole officer. Jesus!If only his cock weren’t so big, so hard, so deep inside her … Hestill held his body pressed against her ass, bottomed out and unmoving. She guessed reality had finally caught up with him. She had oftensuspected that these men in prison lived lives very like hers, so full ofdream, of nightmare, of fantasy that it was difficult to separate fact fromfancy. Even now unless she kept a strict grip on her awareness Paula’smind had a tendency to wander. She still had moments when she was surethis was all just another dream, that she would soon wake up sweaty andpanting, her crotch wet as it was empty, once more a victim of her bodywhich created its own sex life in the absence of any cooperation from herwoman’s lib mentality.Then as the red-haired stranger began very slowly to grind his pelvisagainst hers and stir her slowly with great circular motions of his cockdeep inside her Paula knew it was not a dream. In any kind of a dream thisdelicious she would have awakened flopping and sweating long ago. She waswide awake. She was getting ready to come. Already!CHAPTER 13Her eyes were wide open now and she knew perfectly well this was nodream. Dreams didn’t hurt like this. It was not the kind of hurt thatwould make her complain, though. It hurt so nice she hoped it would neverstop hurting, that he could stay forever balancing on the pivot point ofsome delicate pleasure-pain teeter-totter.He was still grinding his pelvis in slow, lascivious circles, forcingthe tip of his cock to move deep inside her in a rotary-stirring motionthat promised to melt her, dissolve her, turn her brains to peanut butterand send them spurting and leaking out around the long straight shank ofhis bald-headed cock.He was still in that unnatural posture too, reared back above her, onlyhis cock touching her, far enough back so his eyes could focus on the fulllength, splendor of her nude body. It was awful. She felt so good it wassinful even if she was being ****d–especially if she was being ****d. Somewhere beyond her vision Harry Biggs would be witnessing herhumiliation, his haunted eyes memorizing every inch of her seductive body.But even worse was this calm, full-length perusal by the red-hairedstranger who had plugged his outlet into her receptacle. Suddenly Paularealized she was blushing–blushing from the bulge of her belly past herdeep navel, past her tiny waist, her twin pectoral mountains suffused withpink warmth that rose in a wave up her chest, up her neck to the roots ofher long straight blond hair.Blushing, for Christ’s sake! She was being fucked–****d– and was ablush the best she could come up with? She ought to be kicking andscreaming and struggling and raising so much hell the neighbors would stopwatching television long enough to call the cops.But she wasn’t. Instead, she was lying here like a tremulous virgingetting long-cocked for the first time in her life–so caught up in thetoils of eroticism that even though she could guess what these two weirdosmight do to shut her up, she was still unable to resist, was able only tolie there and wish he’d stop staring down at her, that he’d stop that slowsteady stirring and start in doing it right. Why couldn’t he stop withthis playing around, bend over her, bury his face in her lovely jugs, andstart pushing.God damn him! She wanted to kick her heels high, bring them in thuddingover his k**neys, spur him like a rebellious horse but all she could do waslie here all fluttery and ready, waiting, willing–oh God damn it, wouldn’the ever start some honest-to-god fucking?She closed her eyes and sighed and tried to still the quivering andtrembling inside her belly. He was still stirring, stirring up a storminside her that she knew was going to end in disaster. No matter which waythings went it would end up in disaster. No matter how she might lust andpant for these twin outlaw cocks, she couldn’t keep them. She lived in afish bowl–especially since her involuntary strip tease this morning inCity Hall.My god, she thought with sudden panic, I’ll bet the bushes are full ofreporters and photographers right now! By now they’ll have wormed myaddress out of somebody and they’ll be hanging around just waiting and whenthese two sons-of-bitches walk out they’ll walk right into reporters andphotographers and–and I’ll be avenged. They’ll catch them while my bodyis still warm and bleeding and a lot of good it’s going to do me. Oh goddamn it!But while she was thinking dire thoughts of death and dismemberment, thered-haired cocksman finally abandoned his studied verticality. Adopting amore human posture, he crouched low over her, kissed her perfunctorily onthe mouth, and then arched his back to put his lips over her left nipplewithout breaking his full-depth connection in her seething, sizzling cunt.He began running his tongue around her suddenly rigid nipple andaureole, devoting to this lovely exercise the same tender loving care thatHarry Riggs had devoted to her clitoris some-could it have been only tenminutes ago?My god–was she insatiable? An hour ago she had lain ****d andshattered. Then Harry had come back and had, at the last minute, declinedto **** her orally without first savoring the delectable juices of herseething secret slit. And she had come again– at least as many times aswhen he had been pushing her belly out of shape with that tremendouseight-inch tool.She had been violated repeatedly, to the edge of numbness, and now shehad still another skewer poking its erotic way through her soft andyielding flesh. She was being ****d, violated, her body used with noconsideration for the years of effort she had put into preparing her mind.God damned chauvinist pigs! And god damn her traitorous body. Even nowshe could not make her body understand that this was wrong, that this wasnot supposed to happen, that these two sons-of-bitches were probably goingto kill her once they were through, satiated, their lust slaked in her rawand bleeding flesh.And all she could do was lie there and quiver and tremble and try not togiggle as her body reveled and told her everything was all right, that thiswas fun, that this was fucking, that this was what she had been born forand not to go off collecting scalps and college degrees. God damneverything! It just wasn’t fair!She wanted to scream and kick and bite but he had his mouth over her titand he was not biting. He was kissing and licking and it felt so goooood!Oh wow, oh Jesus, did it ever feel goooooood!She tried to remind herself of how it was all going to end but her bodywas not listening–only feeling and enjoying. The red-haired man switchedto her other tit and licked it into a frenzied erection as highly explosiveas that of the first tit to which he had given this delectable titillation.Meanwhile he was still grinding his bony pelvis around, meshing hisbright red ringlets with the abundant blond hair on her mons veneris,pressing and rubbing with such joyous abandon that she could feel frictionbuilding up heat between their straining bodies.And the bald-headed, rough-skinned tip of his swollen tool was stillstirring round and round deep inside her, tormenting her, tantalizing her,turning her will to water and her brains to come. It felt so good shewanted to kick and scream and yodel her delight and sing a hymn to theglories of uninhibited love.She had already forgotten about Harry Riggs, who must have beensomewhere behind her noting every gasp and wriggle of pleasure as sheaccepted gratefully the gift of love that Redhead was giving her with histireless mix master of a cock.Just when she knew she couldn’t stand it another minute without faintinghe stopped his ceaseless grinding and stirring and held tight against herfor a moment, breathing deeply once before he began his first withdrawal.Slow as an hour hand, he pulled it out of her–all the way out until hiscockhead was once more free in the cold cruel air, her vulval lips closedtight over nothingness, and then–WHAM!It almost knocked the breath out of her. Without warning, withoutpreparation, without the slightest effort to thread her needle or even makesure he had it in the right place, he had come down on her, driven his cockhalfway to her lungs, slamming his rampant maleness into her waiting cuntwith all the subtlety of a Spanish-flied pile driver.For perhaps ten seconds he wham-bammed, arms grasping her ass while heram-slammed his cock to her like some berserk riveting machine, in and outof her love-slicked pussy so fast she knew it was all over but whocared–she was coming. Oh Jesus, was she ever coming! She realized therewas no comparing this orgasm to the others of the afternoon. Hismachine-gun approach to the amatory arts was about as devious as a sharkattack. And just as damaging to her flesh, she realized. He was using herup, destroying her as prodigally as he was expending the preciousadamantine hardness of his erection. She was melting, flowing, body andsoul coalescing into a pink-frothed tidal wave of orgiastic fulfillment.Wailing, moaning, twisting, she was totally out of control, intellectand education submerged in a red-roaring cataract of come. Gasping andwheezing, she succumbed, half-fainting from sheer erotic joy. Then as thespasm of orgasm passed she sensed suddenly that his abandon was not at alllike hers. He had pounded her ass in an unmerciful frenzy, acting just asif he were some hot-assed amateur struggling for just one more poke beforehe disgraced himself with an ejaculation praecox.But the devious red-haired chauvinistic son-of-a-bitch was no amateur.He had pounded his cock into her until she had reached an orgiastic pointof no return and then he had just stopped dead, leaving her writhing bodyspindled on his still intact hard-on, looking down on her lusting body withno more passion than an Indian spearing one more salmon. God damn him! God damn all men! How could they do things like that to a woman?Before she could devote more thought to the problem he was once moremoving, pushing his prodigious prod slowly into her, pulling it out,putting it back in again, moving slower than an appeal to appellate court.A moment ago she had been dying. Her belly was still fibrillating withthe aftershocks of that cataclysmic come. Yet already she could feel a newturn-on overlapping her last sudden and total thrill of erotic joy. Wasthere no limit to what these sons-of-bitches could make her do? She couldlive with ****. After all a ****–even a gang ****–served only toillustrate her thesis that it was a male chauvinist pig’s world, that thewhole fucking system was stacked against women, that she was beingexploited as a sex object with no regard at all for her mind.She would have been able to believe it all–if only she could have hurtand suffered a little bit. But god damn a God who gave her a bodyincapable of syllogism–a body which only confessed openly to its needs anderotic desires. God damn it all! Getting ****d was bad enough. But didshe have to like it?Before she had time to dwell further on the world’s injustice, hercome-riddled cunt revived and began once more that insidious erasure of hermental processes. Despite having just melted, despite practically havingdied from the v******e of her reaction to all that no-tomorrowwham-bamming, once more her body was responding to his slow, steadythrusting. And despite doing everything humanly possible to kill herself,she knew her full-fashioned, totally feminine body was getting ready to doit all again.My god, how many times could she come before she died? Surely the mosthealthy of hearts could not endure this pounding forever. It might bedifferent if she were a sexual athlete or a working girl like some of herclients. But she was not. She was in good physical shape–good enough tohave turned every head when the goddam escalator at City Hall had performedan involuntary strip tease. But it had been more years than she even likedto think about since she had experienced the fine full flutter of wings asshe took off on a series of high-flying orgasms.It was going to kill her as sure as hell. And if it didn’t these twosons-of-bitches who were taking turns r****g her would. Convicted felons.There was no way they could both possibly be so stupid as to believe shewas not going to blow the whistle on them the first time she could get herhands on a telephone.Or was there? She had been wailing and squealing, twisting and turninglike any other woman in the throes of joyous orgasm. That was the hell ofit. They might be r****g her but somewhere deep in her heart of heartsPaula knew that if they were both to desist, all the sons-of-bitches wouldhave to do would be to lie around her house naked, their king-sized cocksat half-mast while they drank her booze and ate her food and sooner orlater she would be crawling into their laps, begging them to stick it inher again.They must both know she was incurable–unbelievable, totally turned onby the thought of fucking and unable to say no to any man no matter howunsuitable. There was a word for that kind of woman. She didn’t like tothink about it but it was there and she knew it. She was not taking pay,therefore she was not a whore. She was not in love with her partners,therefore she was not some silly, approaching-menopause bitch in love withlove. She was a woman who just plain couldn’t say no to anybody inpossession of a cock. A round heels, of course. But Paula knew she waseven worse than a classic round heels. She was a nymphomaniac!No wonder these male chauvinist pigs were using her as if she were a barof soap. They had pegged her for what she was before she even knew itherself. They admired her lush, flawless body, used it to fuck themselvesinto dry-bagged stillness and–Suddenly she knew what this meant. If they were that sure her–if theyknew they could come back for seconds, thirds, hundredths, there was noreason to kill her. They knew her better than she knew herself. Theywould be back time and again until sooner or later some newsman got wiseand put a spectacular end to her career as a parole officer.Then she remembered that the news noses were probably hanging from everytree outside right now. Oh Jesus! She had to warn these bastards. Likeit or not, she was involved, would have to scheme with them, cooperate withthem, work together to save their separate asses.And come to think of it, where was Harry Riggs? Her question wassuddenly answered as her sensual appreciation of the red-headed man’ssteady thrusting was distracted by a pair of hands slipping over her fullfirm tits. That made four hands on her body!CHAPTER 14Oh Christ! She had forgotten about Harry Riggs. Not exactly forgotten,she amended. She had just made some assumptions on insufficient evidence.She had supposed he would spend the interval charging his batteries so hewould be ready to take up the torch and feed eight revived inches to her assoon as the red-haired man’s hard-on faltered. Now she knew she had beenwrong once again.What was he going to do to her?As if she didn’t know!She reminded herself of what he had done last time, how he had been allset to do it without mitigation or preamble until some sudden access ofpassion–some supernal desire to lick her pussy and overcome and divertedhim. But this time, with his red-headed friend already pouring hisbald-headed cock to her seething cunt, there was little danger of HarryRiggs getting his face into the cockpit.And she could remember vividly the place where his eight erect incheshad ended up last time. Her throat was still sore and strained from allthat swallowing, swallowing a hunk of raw red meat that resolutely refusedto be swallowed.My god, didn’t she have enough to do now? The redhead was still pouringhis cock to her with the steady dependable beat of a symphonist trying toplay jazz. Her writhing, twisting body was responding in ways she hadnever imagined possible. Her whole being was suffused with a single desireto destroy herself, to fuck herself into premature senility, to come andcome repeatedly until her heart finally gave up and she experienced thatfinal orgasm from which nobody ever recovers.But despite the passion that pervaded her lusting body Paula foundherself pondering things like the simple mechanics of a three-way fuckfest. The redhead was in classic missionary position, his hard-muscled assbetween her gaping thighs, his bald-headed banger spreading her labia as hedrove’ it deep into her vagina. His chest was over hers, scant redringlets rasping the swollen rock-hard nipples atop her twin pectoralvolcanoes.She couldn’t work out exactly where Harry Riggs was. From somewhere outof her line of vision he had his hands between her chest and the red-hairedman’s cupped over her full firm jugs like a living bra, his thumbs andforefingers industriously twiddling away at her tiny pink nipples as ifthey were not already as hard and upstanding as tiny twin Gibraltars.She shuddered in a joyous ecstasy under the assault of those fingerswhich turned her on even more than the redhead’s spasmodic licking andkissing for, after all, he had only one mouth and the breaker and entererwho played with her tits had two capable hands.But was that all Harry Riggs intended to do? Paula couldn’t believe hewould be content to mark time on the sidelines while somebody else enjoyedthe splendors of her abundant femininity. He couldn’t fuck her, at leastnot until his red-haired friend had gotten his share.Nor would he be able, without considerable physical rearrangement, toget his tongue in the only other place she knew was of any possibleinterest to a lusting, thrusting male. She remembered her mixture ofhorror, revulsion, and delight on the occasion when she had first learnedabout that alternate route to gratification.With a suddenness that astounded her, a teenage Paula with a teen-agebody surmounted by a thoroughly grown-up pair of tits had discoveredherself no longer atop a ladder looking for a book while nice old Mr. Costello held the ladder and peeked up her skirt. She had known all thetime what he was doing, had thoroughly enjoyed her power over this ageingpillar of the legal community.She had not minded at all when the old man had been tempted intoindiscretions by the sight of all that firm young flesh so tantalizing, soexposed, so eminently grabable at the top of his purposely unrepairedladder.And, reflecting on it with a wisdom beyond her years, Paula knew thatshe really wasn’t sorry for the way things had worked out. She didn’t yetknow if she would ever become a lawyer but she had typed enough wills inMr. Costello’s office to know the wisdom of planning for the future. Itwas inevitable in her future that something hot, hard, and male find itsway between her legs. And, she decided, the sooner the better.But Paula had no patience for the pimply-faced stiff pricks of her peergroup. She had no intention of being stuck in a mobile home tending threebrats in diapers on whatever a box-boy in a supermarket could bring home.She knew it was inevitable that sooner or later she learn the art offucking. But if it had to come, surely well-off men with four-figure bankbalances and cool pads were possessed of pricks just as stiff and probablya lot cleaner than the grabbing, groping, grubby Don Juans of the juniorclass.And now an old man, a widower, a man known to be discreet who wouldnever ever brag in bars of his conquests–that nice old man was undressingher in the private room behind his office.Had already undressed her, she corrected. With a sleight of hand shewas unable to believe he had managed to undress himself without herknowledge and now he knelt beside the narrow day bed, knelt naked with hismachinery decently concealed beneath the level of the bed.By easy and imperceptible stages he had divested her of everythingexcept her fuzzy white ankle sox and her green nylon panties. And at themoment he had eased both hands between her firm, delicately modeled littleass and was sliding his hands past the cheeks of her ass, down her long,smooth-tapered thighs and, unless Paula was misreading the signals, hertoo-tight green panties were accompanying his hands on this journey.Sweet sixteen–practically never been kissed–and naked on her backbeing undressed by a dirty old man! Only, she amended, he was not dirty.He smelled clean with subtle hints of expensive lotions andcolognes–totally unlike the pimply-faced, billy-goat stinking scrimmagemen who usually struggled and gave up trying to coax her virginal pantiesoff.And, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t really naked either. Mr.Costello had removed her saddle oxfords. He had unbuttoned the hundred-oddfastenings on her high-collared and long-sleeved blouse. He had undone thewaistband of her below-the-knees bahis şirketleri skirt and both articles were now neatlyfolded over one wing of the easy chair.Still smiling and urbane, Mr. Costello had managed to distract herembarrassment and discomfiture with small talk and dissertations on thesexual practices of the Oneida Community while unlatching the hooks on thatdouble-barreled slingshot which confined her totally upstanding,onward-looking boobs. Now he had just removed her too-tight,bought-over-a-year-ago panties and put them carefully atop the wispy bra ofthe same green shade.But Paula knew she was still not naked. As long as she still wore thosefluffy, fuzzy, ankle-length sox nobody could ever say she had been naked.She wondered if Mr. Costello was going to remove them too.He did not. Instead, he removed his bifocals and placed them carefullyatop the mound of clothing. Then, still as unhurried as if she hadpresented him with yet another simple point of law for clarification, hebent over her thrilled and tremulous body.Having never been seduced before, Paula was ignorant of the protocolsinvolved in this delicate maneuver. But she had always assumed the sessionwould begin with a kiss and work up from there. It did not.Instead, Mr. Costello bent his white head over her chest, directly overthose tremendous jugs which were at the same time Paula’s greatest prideand her greatest embarrassment. Without his glasses she was sure he couldsee nothing but the blurry outlines of twin pectoral peaks. But Mr. Costello was not relying on his notoriously undependable eyesight.Without hesitation he placed his mouth over the nipple closest to him.Before Paula even had time to get used to the novel sensation of a mustachepricking and tickling her tender body she was overcome with a wave of totalrut.Golly! Never in her sixteen years on this planet had she ever imaginedanything one half this totally overpowering in its fascination.It was mind blowing. For as long as she could remember she had beenaware of these twin tiny buttons on her little girl’s chest. Long beforeshe had even dreamed of the joys of sex she had learned something of themysterious tingle that could come from these tiny twin tips of heryet-to-sprout tits. In the dear, dead, pre-brassiere days of her c***dhoodPaula’s mother had, in winter months, clad her baby in wool underwear whosewarmth, Paula was firmly convinced, came mainly from the increasedcirculation developed by constant scratching.Even then she had marveled at the way a little rubbing could coax thesetwin contact points of sensation from a quiescent flaccidity up to fullfirm erection visible even through woolen undervests.Now Mr. Costello’s busy, white-mustached mouth was doing somethingcountlessly more interesting than any scratching she had ever experiencedfrom wool. She struggled not to move, to control herself and not surrenderto an impulse to giggle and squeal and wrap her arms around that leoninewhite head and pull him deeper into her pectoral Cordillera.Just as she knew she just couldn’t stand it another second her senescentseducer switched from the titillating tip of one full firm tit to theother. Impartially, he licked and kissed until this nipple was just ashard, just as insistent on further gratification as her first one had been.Then when she was ready to pound her fists over his ears if he didn’t dosomething else to quiet the pink-frothed wave of passion that surgedthrough her inexperienced body, Mr. Costello abandoned both of herflaming-nippled tits.She had supposed he would scoot around to kiss her on the mouth but heremployer’s interests lay elsewhere. Paula lay rigid while he kissed lazyfigure eights down the full-fashioned undersides of her lushly proportionedtits, kissed his way past her midriff and past her tiny waist, past herdeep, well-formed navel, past the gentle swell of her teen-age belly, pastgrowing disbelief and right into the upper edge of her just-hairing pubicpatch.It wasn’t that sixteen-year-old Paula had lived in some kind of a moralvacuum. For as long as she could remember girls had, whenever they weretotally out of earshot of boys and or adults, girls had always been aseager to exchange scraps of newly acquired knowledge as any other group ofstudents. She had heard of cocksuckers. She had heard of muff divers. She had blushed from belly to ears at the secret thrill that had coursedthrough her the first time a girl had explained to her exactly what and howa sixty-nine play was played.Yet, despite all this knowledge acquired in bits and snippets during hersixteen years, Paula was still waiting to put some tiny bit of theory intopractice. She was ready to believe people fucked. After all, dogs did;cats did; rabbits did. Once she had even seen snakes doing something verypeculiar. But those other words … surely they were merely theoutpourings of some fertile imagination’s outrage at being trapped in apimply-faced and eternally tumescent body. People didn’t really do thingslike that-did they?For the first time in her life, savoring the sweet sensation of Mr. Costello kissing his gentle way from tits to tush, she began to wonder, tosuspect that she had been too cautious in estimating human behavior. Maybepeople really did do those things. Mr. Costello was breathing hard intothe sparse blond ringlets of her pubic patch. Surely he was getting readyto do something.Suddenly she was faced with a problem which had never come up in allthese social science classes inflicted on her in her school years. She hadbeen taught how to greet people, how to take leave of them, how to host adinner or a soiree. Nothing and nobody had told her what was properconduct for a lady about to be the recipient of the highest tribute toyouth and beauty any man can bestow upon her. What was she supposed to dowhen nice old Mr. Costello did her the honor of kissing her in a place shehad never been kissed before–had never even imagined that people kissedone another before?She knew it was going to happen. There had been just enoughacceleration in the burning intensity of his bussing to give her clearindication of what all that slow gentle build-up around her firm youngtits, and down midriff and belly, had been leading up to. She knew damnedwell Mr. Costello was not planning on kissing her toes.She could feel that part of her destined for the piece de resistance inhis production number getting all tingly and even just a tiny bit damp aslove’s elixir trickled. She ought to fight and at least go through themotions of protesting but she was so filled with curiosity, with desire,that she knew it was too late. To Mr. Costello’s piece de resistance shecould offer no resistance.He oozed up a little farther onto the bed and she suspected that if shejust had the strength to move, to turn her head, she would be treated witha full frontal view of that organ which separates the men from the girls.But it felt so good just to lie here and wait to see what was going tohappen next that she couldn’t even muster the energy to look at Mr. Costello’s cock. She felt his hands grasping her knees, slowly pushingthem apart.CHAPTER 15With her mind still bridging present and past, Paula felt herself beingpushed and prodded until she was no longer on her back. Still unsurewhether she was being moved by Mr. Costello or by the nameless red-headedfelon who had entered her house, entered her body at Harry Riggs’sinvitation, she found herself lying on her side.A red-haired head was still burrowing in her tits, snuffling and kissingevery square inch of seductive skin not covered by that extra pair of handsthat had to be Harry’s. The nameless redhead’s bald-headed cock stillcoursed slowly and steadily in and out of her seething cunt, managing witha supernal skill to keep her teetering constantly over the precipice,looking ever with a combination of desire and horror into the depths of achasm of orgasm.On her side Paula had greater freedom of action. A lot of good it wasdoing her. The redhead still had his hands locked round her ass, waspushing and pulling, moving her off and onto his hot raging cock like somefleshy glove. So much for her college education.She ought to be struggling–at least protesting. Or should she? Shereminded herself that either of these men was capable of killing her. Ifshe couldn’t make them believe she was enjoying this, was eager for it tohappen again and again …Her belly surrendered to this constant internal massage and gave anotherhappy little flip flop. She felt the spurt of love’s elixir and knewRedhair had felt it too. It was going to require no great histrioniceffort, she knew, to pretend she was enjoying this. Oooooooohhhhh wow!It was nothing very surprising or unusual but at just that moment HarryRiggs’s hands twiddling her nipples while he nibbled on the nape of herneck was sufficient to transform what had started out to be a happy littleflurry of come into a gut-busting, soul-wrenching, kicking, squealing, andmoaning cataclysm of colossal come.She was still writhing, gibbering with ecstatic joy when she realizedthat it was not just Harry’s hands touching her throbbing tits. He waspressing his bare body against her from behind–as if she weren’t alreadysmothering in erotic sensation from the feel of Redhead pressing betweenher legs, pressing against her body, face buried in her tits in an effortto gain some symmetry with the bald-headed cock he held deep in her twat.So what was Harry up to? He was feeling and fondling her full firm jugsfrom behind, rubbing his whole naked length against her back while Redheadmonopolized her front and cunt. She could feel Harry’s eight inchesprodding hopefully at her from behind but that aperture was alreadyoccupied. Sooner or later Harry Biggs was going to grow impatient and thenthere would be some rearranging while he twisted and prodded her aroundinto some pretzel formation that would keep a bald-headed cock coursingsteadily up and down the slick smoothness of her vagina while Harry oncemore ****d her esophagus. She hoped they wouldn’t bend her too far or toopainfully. And then Paula’s eyes flew open as she suddenly understood whatHarry was really up to.Oh Jesus! As if she didn’t have enough to do now!But, ready or not, here came Harry. He had no intention of stuffing hiseight enormous inches in her mouth and down her throat again. Now she knewwhy he had been so busy with the lovely twin handles on her chest; he hadbeen positioning himself.Now his hands slipped momentarily away from her tits and she felt himspreading the cheeks of her already straining ass. She felt the tip of histool pressing against the suddenly twittery rosette of her anus. My god,was he going to try to put it in there?For her to take those eight tremendous inches of insistent masculinityin the wrong hole would have been difficult enough under any circumstances.But now, with a bald-headed cock already ravishing her vagina, stuffing herso full of meat she felt positively pregnant every time that bludgeonbottomed out … it was impossible. There was no possible way he could doit. And yet Harry was trying.She shuddered at the memory of his eight inches of rampant masculinity.It had been bad enough to take that tremendous round-headed bludgeon of atool where nature had intended it. Down her throat had been an experiencelike walking a tightrope, balanced exquisitely midway between pleasure andpain, swaying now one way and now the other. But up her poor poophole?Paula almost relaxed, almost secure in the knowledge that not even thismagnificently endowed breaker and enterer could achieve the impossible. Then she reminded herself that nobody had ever told Harry that. He wasstill spreading the cheeks of her ass, still pressing the blunt knob at theend of his tool against the twittery sphincter muscle of her taut anus.If only she weren’t too busy! But while all this was happening Paulawas still being vigorously fucked by the nameless redhead who grasped herass with his hands overlapping Harry’s and, lying on his side, with hisweight uncomfortable on her lower thigh, was enthusiastically driving hisbald-headed banger in and out of her, in and out with a graduallyaccelerating rhythm that was not conducive to sleep or tranquility. It wasdriving her right out of her skull with joy. If only Harry would go awayfor a minute so she could just relax and enjoy it and come a dozen moretimes before this stranger’s hard-on, like all good things, came to an end.But Harry would not go away. He did finally let go of her ass and forone tiny moment of hope she thought he had given up but he hadn’t.Instead, his blunt-tipped tool had finally forced its way a tinyfraction of an inch into her twittery asshole. It was not far but it wasenough to spread slightly the tight ring of her contracting anus. With histool centered, he let go of her buttocks and let his hands course slowly upher belly, round her waist, memorizing the feel of every square inch ofsoft femininity on his meandering way back up to her tits. As his handssettled once more over those lovely handles and his fingers again begantheir twiddling and rolling of her nipples, she felt his slight,jockey-sized body wriggling around into position and then–“Ow!” It hurt with a pain so sharp she could only shriek. But asswiftly as it had come, the sharp pain was gone and she had an odddistended feeling as if she were constipated and was straining to squeezeout a big one that had managed to get stuck halfway.But she knew that was not what was stretching her ass. Instead, it wasthe golfball-sized knob on the end of Harry’s gear shift. With onemagnificent r****g thrust he had forced it past her straining analsphincter and now the damage was done. It was in her. He left it therefor a moment, riding easily back and forth with her, moving his ass in timeto hers, which still met Redhead’s steady thrusting up her cunt with hisbald-headed bargepole.The effect was devastating no matter how carefully he matched hismovements with hers and Redhead’s trying to pretend it wasn’t there. Thered-haired man’s cock, though it had appeared smaller, had filled hergently rounded belly just as full as Harry’s eight inches. She could notremember ever having felt so–stuffed–before.With each stroke the bald-headed bargepole inside her cunt had stretchedher anew, filling her to the erotic edge of pain, emptying her until shefelt like a collapsing tent each time her insides settled back in placearound the vacuum left as that great gouge departed.And now with the golfball-sized tip of Harry’s eight-inch erectionstuffed up her ass, his glans penis hooked like a fleshy barb just insidethe squeezing musculature of her anal sphincter everything was twice asbad. She felt–pregnant. She felt as if she had held it too long and wasgoing to have to make it to the crapper on a dead run. She could feel herinsides, already outraged by the way Redhead’s bald-headed cock buffetedthem with each stroke, now being crushed with the pressure of two knobs oframpant rigidity competing for space inside her belly.With Redhead’s come-slicked bald-headed cock on the outstroke, barelyparting her blond-furred vulva, she felt uncomfortably full of cock, thanksto Harry’s unmoving bludgeon up her ass. When the red-haired man drove hisdong deep into her, bottoming out with each stroke long enough to grind hispelvis against her mons veneris and stir his cock inside her in alascivious circle, she felt so full she wanted to scream. The only problemwas, she couldn’t make up her mind whether she would be screaming with painor with sheer uncontrollable joy.If only it didn’t feel so goooood! She struggled to remind herself thatthis was ****–worse than ****, that she was being ****d in duplicate as ifshe were a carbon copy of some kind of a sex object. For this she hadstruggled and fought her way through law school, through the bar exams?But reflection did nothing to cancel out the carnal knowledge she wasgaining. If **** was defined as carnal knowledge of a woman against herwill, what was the carnal knowledge she had gained of her own body? Shehad always known she had a body, that her body had needs and desires overwhich she had little control–desires that extracted their vengeance fromher woman’s libber mind every time she went to sleep and dreamed of stiffpricks perforating her diploma. But until now she had never known thedepth of her desires. Nor, she reflected ruefully, had she ever known thetrue depth of her cunt. Eight inches for Christ’s sake!How much more could she take? She discovered that no matter howuncomfortable, no matter how unbearably delightful, she could take anotherinch at least, for Harry’s rod had been soaking a while and his Cowper’sgland had been busily secreting the lubrication of love. He gripped herass firmly from behind and stopped trying to match his movement to hers. The result was disconcerting.For the first time Paula discovered what it is like to be the filling ina sandwich. She was being filled from in front by the redhead’sbald-headed cock. Each time he thrust she was stuffed like a Christmasgoose, stuffed so full of love there was no room left for common sense oreven for self-preservation, so delightful was the sensation of malenesspervading her. And each time she felt that great bald-headed banger slidesmoothly out of her the movement away from Redhair’s cock pushed herthrumming ass back onto Harry’s busy hammer.Harry’s eight-inch erection was sliding in and out of her asshole now,filling the gap each time his redheaded accomplice vacated the burning,tingling interior of her other hole. If felt so good she wanted to wail,yodel, and shriek her delight. If this was **** she could take it a dozentimes a day until it killed her. Which wouldn’t be very long, she guessed.She was coming again, coming in a steady stream of flowing love juice thatissued from her quivering pussy, her belly wracked by wave upon wave ofcontractile ecstasy that swept restraint and common sense before it likediplomas before a tidal wave of lust.She could feel her whole body pulsating in constant, uninterruptedorgasm until it felt as if she were puffing and shrinking with eachheartbeat, every inch of tactile surface inside and out reacting to thestimulus of two males rubbing against her front and rear, two cockspenetrating her quivering flesh, two pairs of hands fondling her, searchingout every secret trigger, making her quiver with lust in erogenous zonesshe had never even dreamed she possessed. Two mouths were kissing her,rooting in her tits, licking aureoles and nipples, nibbling on the nape ofher neck, sticking questing tongues in her ears, blowing, licking, drivingher into a relentless frenzy of erotic demand where she abruptly discoveredthat her ass was no longer a passive bobbin shuttling between twin needles.Now her ass was contributing its own kinesis to this threeway ballet oflascivious bottom banging. She felt her ass buck forward, rocking to meetRed-hair’s bald-headed cock as it ram-slammed deep into her to hold aminute, grinding and stirring before he withdrew for yet another thrust. She felt her ass rock backward with equal enthusiasm to greet Harry’s eightinches plowing their erotic way up the old dirt road, his lean sinewy bodycoming up hard against her ass with a slap as if he were a jockey posting,pounding her lusting buttocks against the hard leathery saddle of his lap,her bottom spiked firmly by his prick lest she be thrown on one of theturns.Four hands held her by every conceivable handle, grabbing her tits, herwaist, her ass in a frantic effort to hang on for the duration of thisride. She was being caressed, kneaded, handled, and fingered in so manyways that Paula suspected she would be fibrillating with an uncontrollableeroticism even if she were not being stuffed alternately with two hothammering cocks each striving to make her come, each striving to preservehis pristine hard-on for one, two, a hundred more strokes up her thrummingcunt and anus. She wanted to wail, to shriek, but she needed all herbreath just to keep up this wonderful shuttle diplomacy between two evenlymatched powers that were splitting her right in two and oh Jesus, did itever feel good to be in the middle of a power struggle!CHAPTER 16But even as she was discovering how delightful it can be to be caught inthe middle of an erotic sandwich Paula was discovering something else. Vaguely, she recalled a pilot friend once telling her how necessary it wasto synchronize both engines on an airplane if one were to have a smoothride.She was riding between twin engines, each pumping her full of the elixirof love, each massaging her quivering belly inside and out in ways she hadnever dreamed possible. But something was going wrong with thesynchronization. Redhair and Harry had been in perfect time, one cockgoing into her as the other came out, pushing her insides back and forthwith a rhythm as irresistible as the tide, churning her whole being withgreat surging waves of pink-frothed lust that had long ago drowned anythought for her future or even for her present.She was living for love, living for the lustful gratification of eachmovement, living for the surge of flesh each time a cock went up her assand pushed all her passion-swollen innards forward, living for the returnstroke when that eight-inch erection came out of her asshole and abald-headed cock entered her vagina and the internal rock-and-roll repeatedthe waving rolling lusting surge of all her insides.But now there was a subtle change in that rhythm as one of her partnerslost the beat. Now the entry of cock into her cunt was coming asplit-second too late or too early–she was too busy coming yet again toanalyze which. All she knew was that instead of a lovely lustfulalternation of fullness from first front, then rear, now she wasexperiencing instants of total emptiness, with neither cock insideher–moments of full and complete quiescence which her straining bodyaccepted gratefully.But each of these respites had its price. Now, instead of one cockgoing into her as the other came out, she had two cocks at once going intoher. Either of those tremendous, lust-engorged organs alone would havebeen sufficient to make the average woman throw rocks at her husband. NowPaula was getting Harry’s eight inches up her ass and the red-haired man’sunmeasured but more-than adequate bald-headed bargepole stuffed up herthrilled and fibrillating cunt at the same instant. It hurt but oooooohhhhJesus didn’t it ever hurt gooood!”No!” she moaned, “Stop, wait a minute, take it out! Ooooooohhhhhdeeper, faster, quick!”Her partners were doing their best to oblige. Each man now marched to adifferent drummer, working out his own destiny and making his separatepeace with his piece of her ass. And Paula was in the middle. She felther body quivering, fibrillating, so overcome with joy that she could nolonger even reward them with a proper orgasm.For minutes now she had been in such a state of sustained arousal thather whole body was in constant ecstasy, belly thrumming and quivering, cuntstreaming as she surrendered to the total assault of carnal knowledge.They were thumping her now, both lean hard bellies pulling awaysimultaneously, both hot hard cocks pulling out of her at the same moment.And more importantly, more devastatingly, both lean hard bodies and bothstiff pricks were slamming back toward her, stuffing her full, mashing hersoft round belly between them just as they filled her full unto bursting.It was hurting her, stretching her out of shape, killing her, but it feltso goooooooood!It felt so good that suddenly she was falling backward and how could shebe doing that when she was snug between two men’s bodies, spiked on twococks lest she slip out of this club sandwich of carnal delight? Thetelephone was ringing again and then both of the goddam telephones wereringing and both cocks were still slamming into her and it felt so good andshe knew she had her eyes open but the lights had just gone out andeverything was so fuzzy, so dreamy … It was just like that time with Mr.Costello.But actually, it was not at all like the time when she had been ascrawny sixteen-year-old virgin with little to recommend her apart from thebiggest pair of tits on the slimmest body in Midvale High School. Thatnight when Mr. Costello’s discourse on points of law had gradually beendiverted into an analysis of exactly how it felt to touch the twin pointsforbidden by law on the front of her lusciously u******e body Paula hadfound herself in the back room, on the day bed, with a naked Mr. Costellobending over her, kissing his slow and thorough way down the bare front ofher body. She had been reassured by the knowledge that she was not exactlynaked, that if anyone were ever to question her on this point she couldalways and truthfully say no, not naked. After all, she still wore herfuzzy, ankle-length sox.And if she had to be technical about it, Paula knew she was also wearingstraight blond hair on her head, slightly curly blond hair on her prominentmons veneris, and pink fingernail polish.What she had not been prepared for was the enthusiasm with which Mr. Costello had decided to illustrate one absolutely sure way a girl wouldnever become pregnant. Golly! How could she ever have guessed he actuallyintended to kiss her there?He lay beside her now on the narrow day bed, lay beside her wrong-end-toand Paula was so overcome by a delicious and lassitudinous sense ofsurrender that she couldn’t even muster the curiosity to open her eyes andturn her head to look at whatever it was old men have between their legs.It felt so nice just to lie here and let nice old Mr. Costello put hishands on her knees and gently spread her thighs while he kissed his waydown her flat, sixteen-year-old belly, down right into the just-growingbush of blond ringlets on her bony mons veneris.Unbelieving, practically dying of sheer delight, she felt his whitemustache tickle the sensitive inner surface of one smooth thigh as hekissed his way past home base down nearly to her knee. He twisted andwriggled until he had his head behind her knee and was kissing the tendersocket which years later in a personal injury suit she would learn to calla popliteal fossa. Now she could only call it groovy as he switched to theback of her other knee and sent a quiver of delight up her long slim thighbefore kissing his way up that tender inner surface.As his white mustache once more approached the target area Paula couldsense a rising excitement not just in herself but also in Mr. Costellowhose naked arms tightened their embrace around her bare little ass.In the course of their groping and grappling for position hernot-quite-naked, still-bobbie-sox-clad body had managed to get considerablycloser to Mr. Costello’s. Now they lay in intimate embrace, facing eachother, touching full length along the narrow day bed–only end for end,their naked bodies not quite overlapping. His white mustache was stilltickling her like a huge bumble bee buzzing round the flower between herthighs. His chest pressed against the juvenile flatness of her belly andher full firm tits were mashing against the graying ringlets of heremployer’s belly. Despite being such an old man, Mr. Costello’s body wasalmost as slim as her own and considerably harder, thanks to constantexercise.It felt so groovy she wanted to stay there forever. Sleepily, sheopened her eyes and–oh golly!When she had a fraction of a second to think Paula realized she had noreason to be surprised. What had she expected to see staring her in theface? Surely it was no more surprising than the odd viewpoint from whichMr. Costello was admiring her. She forced her eyes to focus on the greatgudgeon that waved gently in time with Mr. Costello’s heartbeat onlyinches from her eyes, so close she could feel the hot maleness radiate fromit as if it were a branding iron ready to leave its mark on her unblemishedskin.It was the first time she had ever seen a male organ close up unless onecounted babies. And Mr. Costello’s didn’t look at all like those tinynozzles she had seen on some of her friends’ baby brothers. This was aman’s cock, heavily veined, with a long, slightly curved shank. The tipwas sharply pointed, flaring dramatically like the head of a spear and shewondered if the flaring head would lodge inside her like the barbs on aharpoon.It was waving gently in time to his pulsing blood, the tip circlinggently but never far from her face. As she studied it his thing gave alittle jerk and seemed to become slightly bigger, harder. She saw the headstraining to escape his tight-stretched foreskin, managed to see the blindopening that glared at her like a one-eyed worm. While she studied thismale phenomenon Mr. Costello’s cock grew a little more and, still harder,did its unaided best to burst free from a confining foreskin. She staredfascinated, remembering how she had observed this phenomenon in dogs andhorses, remembering also how circumspect a girl had to be and never everadmit that she was interested in things like that. As if there could beanything on earth more fascinating than a man!The head of his cock was swollen to an angry purple. It glistened withlubrication and while she watched yet another tiny drop of crystal-clearand honey-thick liquid appeared like a single tear at the blind eye of hisurethra. She wondered if this was the stuff that made babies, thenremembered that it was supposed to be white and supposed to come out with atremendous rushing gush. And most especially, not yet.It felt so good just to lie here and look at it and feel his arms aroundher svelte little ass, feel his mustache brush and tickle her belly andthighs, to revel in the warm lubricity of all the things he was doing toher, had done to her, was going to do to her that Paula somehow managed toput a little watertight compartment in her mind and not think about what,if anything, was required of her. Surely Mr. Costello was going to wantto do something. She was sure too that when the time came there would betime enough then to worry about it, to decide whether she wanted to do itor not.But meanwhile, for the first time since she could remember, Paula’s firmyoung body was not bursting with nervous energy. For the first time in herlife she was content just to lie there and do nothing and let Mr. Costello’s arms, his hands, his mouth, and his mustache do it all. Golly!Why hadn’t somebody ever told her how nice it felt to have a man’s mustachetickling circles round and round her belly, up one thigh and down theother, kissing the cheeks of her ass as he ran in ever-tightening circlesaround the blond-fuzzed rose between her slim thighs?It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had experiences like this before. But alwaysbefore they had been hurried gropes in the back seat of a borrowed car andalways she had been disgusted by the frantic fumbling haste to cop a feel.And Paula knew perfectly well that all those boys had wanted only onething– the very thing she had been determined not to give them.Moreover, she had always known in her heart of hearts that somedaysomeway somehow she was going to find a man, a mature man, clean, smooth,suave, sophisticated–a man who was connoisseur enough to appreciate herpristine, still virginal little body with the tremendous tits–a manwilling to pay proper obeisance before the shrine of her youth and beauty.Instinctively, she had always known no groping grabber of her own agewould have the sensitivity to know what to do. Mr. Costello did. Withouther even telling him or even hinting, he had gone straight to doing whatshe had always dreamed of even though she had never quite believed anyoneapart from herself was perverted enough, wicked enough even to dream ofsuch a thing.She caught herself wondering if her mother and father ever did thingslike this. She remembered nights when she had been put to bedearly–nights when there had been strange squeakings and rumblings andtrips to the bathroom and annoyed suggestions that she go back to sleep. Could they have been fucking? With bemused amusement, she guessed theyhad.But had they ever explored the avenues of eroticism beyond thesimple-minded joys of fucking? Had Papa ever kissed Mama the way Mr. Costello was kissing her now?Who cared? If he hadn’t, that was Papa’s loss, and Mama’s. Paula wassixteen and she didn’t intend to miss out on anything. She had been born agirl, which was something of a disadvantage but she intended to make up forit. If boys had all the fun, they must get a great deal of it from girls.And Paula intended being one of the girls–one who won, who took heramusement from men and who used them up instead of sitting around waitingfor them to come whenever they were damn good and ready.Mr. Costello was filling the bill quite nicely. Sooner or later, shewould have to apply a little leverage, have to let him taste her honeypotfirst and learn how delightful, then she could set the hook and the nexttime they were in this delicious position there would be a subtledifference in the pecking order between them. But for now …But now, Paula abruptly realized, now was no time for planning andscheming and daydreaming. Mr. Costello had finally finished with hisbuzzing around the flower. Now he was spreading her petals and he wasputting his tongue right on her blossom.Golly, did it ever feel gooooood!CHAPTER 17Mr. Costello’s tongue dipping into her honeypot felt so good thatsuddenly Paula was incapable of thinking, planning; incapable, it seemed,of anything except wailing and kicking and writhing and moaning and herwhole belly was suddenly tied in knots and all the knots were coming untiedand oooooohhhh!That ooooooohhhhhh signaled an end to her oral virginity for Mr. Costello’s brimful, half-peeled prick had an intelligence of its own. While her mouth gaped wide in involuntary song his lance drove smoothly,effortlessly through her lips, past teeth and tongue and right past herpalate to penetrate her throat.Paula was so deep in the throes of her first full-fledged orgasm thatshe didn’t clearly understand what was happening. She knew only thatsuddenly Mr. Costello’s mouth was so much busier down there, his tonguedriving so deep that without hesitation she was piling spasm on top ofspasm, her I belly writhing, her will dissolving, everything coming apartas his tongue touched her secret triggers, doing all the things she hadalways dreamed of but never suspected anyone might ever actually do.Hardly thinking, she let her body revel in spasmodic joy, sensing hiscock in her mouth, down her throat, but thinking only of the wonderfulthings his tongue was doing to her. It felt so wildly, so wondrously goodthat she didn’t care what she had in her mouth–didn’t even realize it wasthere until suddenly Mr. Costello stopped licking her long enough to emita heartfelt “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!” and abruptly her mouth was full of stickyliquid.She guessed later that she must have fainted for a minute because whenshe was once more aware Mr. Costello still lay entwined with her, naked asshe was, and very still. It was only after several minutes that sherealized Mr. Costello was dead. By the time she got her clothes back onand by the time she got clothes back on Mr. Costello and got him laid outon his day bed like an old man who’d had a heart attack and died in hissleep Paula had had all the fucking she needed for the rest of her youthfullife. Not even the money he left her in his will was enough to erase fromher youthful mind the memory of that cooling, stiffening body that had justfinished turning her on.She opened her eyes in the midst of an orgasm as intense and durable asthat first lovely turn-on a dying Mr. Costello had given her and it wasyears later and she was being lustily ****d fore and aft by a pair ofconvicted felons. God damn Harry Riggs and his red-headed friend! Goddamn any man who could do this to her, could make her see how badly sheneeded a man. God damn all men!God damn a social system that made it all right for men to fuckthemselves silly with anything that wore a skirt but which labeled a womanas loose if she had the same desires! And god damn her traitorous body foraccepting all this abuse, for accepting a double **** and–for enjoying it!God damn! Especially, god damn Hizzonner the Mayor and hisbrother-in-law’s maintenance company and their woman-eating escalator. These two stiff-pricked bastards were fucking her right out of her mind andstill she could hear both telephones jangling. She wondered who had putthem back on the hooks.Christ! She was coming again but she had come so many times now that itwas no longer the cataclysmic catastrophe that it had been the first timeshe had felt twin pricks working at cross purposes within her strainingbody. Now even in the midst of her come she could think, could know, thatthose goddam news hawks and cameramen were probably hanging from everybranch in her yard waiting for a shot, an interview, to ask if she wasgoing to sue the city, to ask if she had ever considered going in themovies–any goddam thing except–oh shit!They would catch these sons-of-bitches. And what good would it do her?No matter what the facts, people would remember only that in the morningshe had been seen naked in City Hall. In the afternoon she had been seengetting fucked silly by two convicted felons. There went her career.Twelve goddam years of walking the straight and narrow. Not once hadshe adventured since that disastrous first time with Mr. Costello. Shehad sc****d out of that one without any scandal. If the coroner or theundertaker had entertained their own suspicions as to what the old man hadbeen doing when he died, they had gallantly kept such thoughts tothemselves and now they were both long dead and gone. She had lived ablameless life. And now, thanks to a **** that wasn’t her fault at all herwhole goddam career was going down the tube and Hizzonner was probablygrinning as he pulled the chain. It just wasn’t fair!And unfairest of the unfair was the knowledge that, though these twofelons had shown no regard for her as a person, had used her as a sexobject with no more thought for her feelings than if she had been some warmsoft bit of rubber goods from a novelty shop, the most terrible thing theyhad done to her was not all the physical abuse and indignities they hadheaped upon her with these sexual sandwiches. They had done something farworse. They had shown her, had made it abundantly clear to a woman’slibber to eternal striver for equality, that she was a fraud, that shedidn’t want equality, that not only did she accept this degradation–shereveled in it, that she enjoyed herself more in the last two hours than shehad in all the previous twelve sterile, self-sufficient years.All that time wasted. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had opportunities.Very acceptable candidates had made very acceptable offers. EvenSmart-ass, she knew, had come dangerously close to proposing–would have ifshe hadn’t been enough of a smart-ass herself to divert his line of thoughtand turn a perfectly serious proposal into a comic preposition.God damn these bastards! They were still bouncing her back and forthbetween them, fucking her coming and going only she was doing much morecoming than going and oooooooohhhhh damn! She was coming again!And somewhere in the background both telephones were ringing theirgoddam electronic innards out just as she was. One of her assailants musthave decided it was safer to have them ringing than to have them off thehook where someone might possibly be listening in on all the wailing andshrieking and ooooooohhhhhhh Jesus, she was coming again!She had come so many times she was beyond shrieking now, was mewling andmoaning, making sounds of agony and unutterable grief while still theystuffed twin cocks into her, and then abruptly Harry Riggs’s eight-inchweapon came out of her ass with a thuck like the exit of a stopper from abottle of sparkling wine. There was another thud behind her and then shesaw the red-haired man’s face come up out of her tits looking startled. Before Paula realized what was happening a fist with something blurry in itwhizzed past her face and immediately she felt the red-haired man’s hard-onundergo a drastic change even in the instant before its owner fell backfrom her, eyes blank with surprise and shock.Paula had sense enough to faint.When she came to Smart-ass was cleaning her up in the shower, treatingher with surprising gentleness for so large a man. He had propped her upuntil she clung limply to the shower head while he douched the fruits oflove from her still-tingling cunt. Wordlessly, he refilled the douche andgave her an enema which elicited a brown stream of come and other matterfrom her ass.Paula was beginning to settle back down to earth, aware of hermortifying position. My god–Smart-ass of all people! She had beencompeting with him ever since law school–ever since his first attempts atseduction had gradually devolved into a good-humored game between them. And now he was wordlessly washing another man’s come out of her asshole!”I should’ve guessed something was wrong when you wouldn’t even answerthe other phone,” he muttered. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”There being nothing to say, Paula didn’t.He finished rinsing her off and turned off the water. He toweled heroff gently, and guided her into her bedroom where he sat her before hermirror and handed her comb and hair dryer. “I’m afraid that part’s alittle beyond me,” he said. Dazedly, she saw him go out into the frontroom and begin straightening up. She wondered what had happened to the twofelons who’d been r****g her. Smart-ass, she supposed, must have used hisgarage door opener just as Harry Riggs had.”There are twenty reporters and newsmen outside,” Smart-ass was sayingto somebody in the front room. “And it’d make any one of their careers tobe able to film you two bastards being lynched–preferably with a hotkerosene preliminary. On the other hand, I have a client who doesn’t needpublicity so we’re willing to trade you miserable motherfuckers your livesin return for silence.”Paula turned off the hair dryer and listened in awe as Smart-ass, with afew well-chosen words, salvaged her honor and her career.”Now get this clear, you abysmal assholes, you came here to surrender toyour parole officer and to confess to twenty-seven breakings and enteringsover the last sixty days. For this your paroles are revoked and you’ll getanother seven to ten in the joint.” Pausing for emphasis, Smart-asscontinued, “Just remember–one single hint of what you really did to myclient and you’ll not just end up in the joint. You’ll die there. I’vegot thirty-four convicted clients up there all waiting for a chance to kissass and do me a favor. Do you motherless creeps understand me loud andclear?””Yes sir!” the r****ts chorused.”All right,” Smart-ass growled, “Now get on your feet and start cleaningup the mess you’ve made. I want this house spotless before the TV peopleget here.”Bemusedly, Paula turned her hair dryer back on. She managedmechanically to get dressed, get her hair back into its usual taut chignonand, was it her imagination or did she really seem younger, less tense,with fewer worry lines?She was still so exhausted it was difficult to stand without swaying. Once more ever-resourceful Smart-ass gave her a pill and half a cup of oldcoffee to wash it down. “Going to be one hell of a letdown in an hour ortwo,” he warned her, “But this’ll get you through the worst of it. Oh bythe way, I took the liberty of hinting to Hizzonner that I might berepresenting you on behalf of the whole fucking bar association and whenlast heard of Hizzonner and his brother-in-law were collectively urinatinglittle green gherkins. If anybody offers a settlement, just keep mum.”While a pair of chastened felons, their cocks now shrunken and insidetheir pants, moped about cleaning up the kitchen and vacuuming the rug,Smartass coached her on the fine points of the charade they were about toplay for the TV and newspapers.”Business as usual,” Smart-ass advised her. “While everybody else hasbeen having a field day you’ve been working your ass off–oops, sorry,” heamended. “You’ve been tirelessly performing your duties and, thanks toyour ability to empathize with unfortunate clients, you’ve coaxedrepentance and confessions from two hardened criminals and single-handedlyended a crime wave.””But what if it goes right on?” Paula asked.”It won’t. I know who’s ripping off the neighborhood. I’ll tell them,through proper channels of course, that it’s time for a vacation.””You know who it is?” Paula echoed.”Don’t you?” Smart-ass sneered. “It’s Hizzonner’s goddam greedy copsout moonlighting. If they know I know–and if they know I’ve got enoughevidence locked up in safe places–maybe this “confession” will be enoughof a signal for them to cool it for a while, maybe even long enough tounelect Hizzonner and turn crooked government back to amateurs for awhile.”And thus it came about that Paula, clad in tailored pants suit and tightblond chignon, sat at her desk with two phones still ringing spasmodically,sat there and gave an idiotic business-as-usual interview which, thanks tothe confession of two felons, didn’t even get around to touching on herinvoluntary strip tease this morning in City Hall.She gave the interview sitting down because she was sore in everyjoint–sore especially in the joints around her tortured ass, and she wasbarely able to move.”Omnis a****l post coitum triste,” Smart-ass quoted when the lastreporter and the last cameraman had left her house, shortly after the lastcop had exited with a handcuffed Harry Riggs and a handcuffed red-headedman whose name she never had caught.”I know all a****ls are sad after coitus,” Paula said tiredly, “But whydoes nobody ever finish that quote?””Sed gallus qui cantat,” Smart-ass continued, “Except the rooster whocrows.” He studied her for a long moment, then without speaking, got up andrummaged through her kitchen.After a moment he found whiskey and the makings for a couple ofrespectable drinks. He handed one to Paula and they sat drinking in silentcompanionship. For once Smart-ass had nothing smart to say. Probably,Paula supposed, because she was down so far that there was no more fun inkicking her.She had never been a boozer and now the drink on top of the pill on topof an afternoon of multiple ****s was getting to her. Dimly, she sensedSmartass taking the glass from her hands and then he was leading her tobed. He was undressing her and tucking her in. She felt his kiss and thenshe was asleep.CHAPTER 18Paula awoke with a jerk. Jesus, now what? It was dark and she had noidea what time of night it was. She tried to figure out what had awakenedher and then her thrashing legs encountered another pair of legs in herbed. She was reaching for the light when she heard Smart-ass’s sleepyvoice. “Relax,” he said, “It’s only me, your counsel and protector.””What’re you doing here?” Paula hissed.”Sleeping here until you either get a decent lock on that garage door orelse come to your senses and move out of this cruddy neighborhood.””Oh?” Paula asked in a fishy tone. “Then what’s that thing you’ve gotpoking me in the back?””Ah, so you’ve noticed.”Paula really hadn’t. It was just the first thing that had sprung intoher mind when she realized that after twelve years of fending him off,Smart-ass had finally wrangled his way into her liberated bedstead.Abruptly, she was also aware of several other things, that Smart-ass hadbeen remarkably persistent in his pursuit, and that now she had probablyjust blown her last chance. After the way he had seen her sandwichedbetween two cocks, after the way he had cleaned her up like some victim ofa natural catastrophe …They lay side by side, silent in the darkness, in the same bed. “Thereare good points in everything,” Smart-ass finally said. “Even ****.”Paula quietly died. Not only had he seen her at her worst–he knew itall–knew she had been loving every minute of it.”It jolted you out of a rut,” Smart-ass was continuing, “Dragged you,kicking and screaming, right back into the human race.” He put a hand outin the darkness and tried to pat her shoulder as he said, “Welcome back.”But in the darkness the hand destined for her shoulder fell square atop onesplendid tit. Damn! He had undressed her but he hadn’t put on a nightieor pajamas or anything on her. They were both naked, she realized. Hishand lingered a moment on her tit and then fell away. “Sorry,” hemurmured.”For what?” she asked bitterly. “You saved my life and my career–evenif you didn’t quite manage to save my ass.””That’s what I’m sorry about,” he said. “I was coming around to makeyou an offer myself.””Make me an offer I can’t refuse,” she said tonelessly.”My home, my business partnership, my name, and my cock,” he saidsuccinctly.”You’ve got to be k**ding.””Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”Paula wondered what their lives might have been like if only she’d metSmart-ass first instead of nice old Mr. Costello who had gone and ruinedher maiden flight for her and, possibly, even for himself. Now … shecouldn’t accept Smart-ass’s offer no matter how sincere. She was too fardown. After years of fencing while he climbed and she stagnated in herdead-end job, now he wasn’t offering himself. He was offering charity.”Between the offers for personal appearances on every talk show for thenext few years and the whopping out-of-court settlement Hizzonner’sbrother-in-law’s going to offer you to keep certain things out of the news,you’re going to have a sudden rise in disposable income,” Smart-ass wascontinuing. “Now, if you’d like to bury it in a safe hole, that’s fine. But if you’d like to help a rising young legal aid group service get offthe ground, perhaps I could offer you something else to bury in a safelittle hole.” Imperceptibly, his hand had crept between her legs until nowhe was cupping her tender mons veneris and vulva, still recovering from herfirst fucking in twelve years. To her surprise and horror Paula discoveredshe was starting once more to turn on, her whole body tingling at thethought of Smart-ass touching her there after all these years of fencing,of talking about it but never actually doing anything.”I know you’ve had a rough day of it and I don’t want to rush yourdecision,” Smart-ass continued. “But I thought you might sleep betterknowing it’s there, ready whenever you are.””You son-of-a-bitch,” Paula said affectionately, “How long has it beensince your last indoor track meet?””Month or two I guess,” Smartass said apologetically. “Usually I try todo it oftener but lately I’ve been so damned busy … “”I think,” she began thoughtfully, “I think I’ll make you an offer youcan’t refuse. But remember,” she added, “No strings.””So stipulated.”Before Smart-ass had time to realize exactly what he had agreed to Paulascooted down in the bed and found his cock. She grasped it with bothhands, holding it upright like a k** choosing for first bats in somesand-lot ball game. While he was still gasping with delighted surprise shebegan blowing her warm wet breath over the tip of his tool. “How’s thatfor woman’s liberation?” she murmured, and placed her lips carefully overthe tip of his straining prepuce. Light as a frightened butterfly, shebegan kissing her way around the tip of his tool.”Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” Smart-ass opined.”So stipulated,” Paula murmured and opened her mouth wide. She moveddown over the swollen, straining head of his hammer, closed her lips behindthe tremendous flare of his glans penis, and then, with the precision of aphysicist, closed her teeth just enough to grasp his stretched foreskin andpull it down as her head went deeper into the heart of the matter.”Ooooooooohhhhh wow!” Smart-ass groaned. “I think you’ve discovered anew point of law.”Paula smiled to herself in the darkness, knowing she had just discoveredsomething far more important. It had been “a month or two” sinceSmart-ass’s last foray into sex. He was a strong and healthy man, not morethan a year older than Paula. Most men would have exploded like eroticfountains under the stimulus of what she had just done, firing theirprecious seed as if there were no tomorrow, as if by tomorrow her poorriddled cunt wouldn’t be rested and healed and ready to sample a cock thatfelt–my god, she suddenly realized she had both fists over the length ofhis baseball bat and still the tip was sticking out of her twin fists. Itwas at least as big as Harry Biggs’s and its owner was a great deal moreconsiderate.It was unbelievable. How could she have had such incredible luck all inone day? After twelve years of mourning the mess Mr. Costello had made ofher life … abruptly she remembered Smartass’s remark: dragged kickingand screaming back into the human race. So this was what human beings didto each other, did for each other every night. It might be old-fashioned,she decided, but it worked a damn sight better than tranquilizers andsleeping pills.While she reflected on these happy conclusions Smart-ass had been movinggently about in the bed and suddenly she knew that, ready or not, she wasabout to receive his gentle offering.Smartass was not violent–not a r****t like the first two men in her asstoday. He moved her about with such loving care that she was remindedmomentarily of that lovely few moments before nice old Mr. Costello’sheart had blown out on him.It felt so gooooood–even tired and fuck-riddled as she was after allafternoon sandwiched between two madmen, it felt so good to have a nicegentle man give her a nice gentle turn-on. He wasn’t stretching orstraining or pushing her this way and that. Instead, his hands werecaressing her ass as gently as if she were still a virgin, as if her wereafraid of frightening her away. More practically, she realized, he justdidn’t want to hurt her after all the v******e she had undergone that day.But a half-dozen multiple ****s did nothing to still the delicious feelof Smart-ass gently kissing the gentle roundness of her belly, digging histongue into her navel, doing all sorts of gentle and delicate things thatfelt so good she wanted to giggle and kiss him and hold him and–instead,she pursed her lips and began moving them slowly and precisely up and downthe bared head of his swollen, month-rested rod.”I’ll give you a half an hour to cut that out,” he murmured and wentback to his gentle bussing of her belly. His arms were wrapped round herass–not squeezing the life out of her but just hanging on hard enough tolet her know he was there, that he was strong, that when she was readytomorrow or next week or whenever, this gentle giant of a man was going toteach her what real fucking was like-fucking that involved enjoying oneanother, giving pleasure without exploitation, without eternally strivingfor one upsmanship. Why hadn’t she been able to see through this lovelyman years ago instead of always fighting him off with a wisecrack? Had ittaken **** to learn that she was a woman, that she J needed a man, that sheneeded a man with a brain sharp enough to hold his own with her?Smart-ass was licking her ass in ways wondrous to experience. He couldhave been doing that for the last twelve years, she told herself, and therealization of all that wasted time brought tears to Paula’s eyes. Thanking the gods of love and law for the darkness, she dedicated herselfto licking his lovely lance.She ran her mouth up and down it, lips sliding smoothly over the baredhead of his hammer. He was straining, gritting his teeth and tensing everymuscle in an effort not to succumb to the assault of total eroticism shewas unleashing. Must be as bad for him as twin cocks had been for her, sheguessed. But Smart-ass was not giving up the battle.It was incredible. A month or two and still he managed to preserve hishard-on! She took a deep breath and realized what she had let herself infor. If she had to, she’d fuck him but she really didn’t want to. Itwouldn’t be fair to Smart-ass to give him a poor third after all she’d beenthrough that day. She wanted to be rested up, flesh-toned and taut, hercunt as perfect and as ready as possible. After all, Smart-ass had waitedtwelve years. He was entitled to the best and she was going to see that hegot it.But what about right now? She couldn’t just leave him high and dry likethis. It wasn’t his fault he had a hard-on. If she’d wanted to go back tosleep he would have let her. But she had had to go meddling, playing withthe poor man’s prick and now …She took a deep breath and began moving her mouth up and down his cock alittle faster, pausing only to run her tongue in loving, lascivious circlesaround the hot throbbing tip of his tremendous tool. It seemed to begrowing with every lick and now she was sure it was larger than HarryRiggs’s, larger even than the red-haired man’s whose name she had neverlearned.But she had learned the devastating effect of his tool. Jesus, was sheever going to have a ball with this cock once she was rested up and readyto engage once more in fun and games.She was still licking and kissing, sucking away at the head ofSmart-ass’s cock and Smart-ass was huffing and puffing, straining withevery muscle but he wasn’t coming. God, what a man!When she started out this had been strictly a labor of love–somethingshe was going to do for Smart-ass and not for herself. But under theonslaught of his tongue in her navel, his lips kissing gentle, lasciviouscircles around her belly, Paula discovered that it was truly more blessedto give than to receive–if giving was capable of getting her this gentleand painless turn-on.That was the lovely thing about it. It felt so gooood and yet she wasnot tearing herself to pieces as she had been between those two madmen withtheir raging go-for-broke cocks. Smart-ass would be here for the longhaul. Hadn’t he come through twice today already–rescuing her from thatawful naked moment at the top of the escalator when everybody else had juststared–and now he had saved her ass, saved her life and her career thisafternoon. And now he was licking her ass. Without her quite realizinghow it had happened her thighs had opened, and there he was bussing thepassion-swollen labia of her vulva, kissing loving circles around her,careful lest he touch some raw and tender place.Suddenly Paula was coming. My god, she thought, coming again after allI’ve been through and he hasn’t even put his tongue into my pussyyet–because he was probably afraid to hurt her. But Smart-ass with hisgentle kissing had set off little pinwheels of erotic fire inside herbelly. Each time the eruption of joy threatened to stop he kissed her insome odd place and once more it started. It was such a gentle, continuouscome that it didn’t hurt at all. It felt so gooooooood. And what on earthwas she going to do for him?She opened her mouth wide, forced her head farther down on his cock andbegan to swallow. Running full-length up and down, she love-laced him,driving his cock so deep down her throat that she could feel her chingrinding against the crisp ringlets of his pubic patch. Swallowing,licking, sucking, she did her god damndest to make him come. Then suddenlyshe was coming again under the onslaught of his educated tongue touchingher tender asshole, tickling the swollen lips of her cunt, not even forcingthem open to torment her tender clit. “Ooooooohhhhhhh!” she shrieked andgreat ribbons of erotic fire coursed up her spine to ricochet about herempty skull and melt her brains. Her brains ran down her spine to flowaround her cunt. And still his hard-on was unsullied.She was gasping for breath, still in the throes of orgasm when he pulledit out. Grateful, she caught her breath and lay back.”Feel up to fucking?” he asked her cheerfully.THE END

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