I was in the bathtub soaking, telling Helen of my narrow escape that morning. I had filled the tub full and was able to submerge all of me, except for my head. The water was good and hot.
Helen was sitting on the toilet seat in her robe listening intently, her feet propped up on the edge of the tub. I could see everything she owned in that position, and what I saw was deliciously pleasing.
Remembering the comments made about my hairiness that day, I wondered what, if any, remarks would have been said had it been Helen there instead of me. Certainly no man in his right mind could fault that pussy.
Her hair was much lighter than mine and formed a perfect triangle. Whereas mine tended to grow wild, hers almost seemed sculpted, the margins clear, the hairline well defined. The hair itself glowed in contrast to my own, which could look dull, lacking the magical highlights I observed now in Helen’s.
Her well-developed lips formed a perfect cleft. No open gash here, no flabby distended labia. Just Helen’s fat little pussy for all the world to see. I wondered how much Jack appreciated that darling cunny.
Helen observed my rapture and, noticing the source of it, closed her legs and tucked in her robe.
“You can make a girl horny sometimes, Bea,” she noted. “There are times when I think you appreciate me that way more than Jack. He’s never one to drink me in with his eyes like that.”
I lifted a leg up out of the water. “I wish I had it all together like you,” I told her.
“Bea Starr, you’re still fourteen years old wishing you were seventeen, aren’t you?” she maintained. She got up off the seat. “Here, let me scrub your back.”
I sat up, swirling the water around me. My back was piping hot.
“I better take my robe off,” Helen said, “or it’ll get wet for sure.” The robe dropped and she stood there, naked, as close to me as ever I could remember. Uncontrollably, my hand reached up and lightly touched the top of her thigh. The wet fingers trailed off down and back into the tub.
She bent over and started scrubbing my back with a soapy washcloth. Her large breasts swung in unison with her movements. I turned my head to get closer to them, and one slapped against my face, the hard nipple tracing a line across my upper lip. Indescribable urges were tormenting me.
“Hey!” I cried. “That’s heavy cargo.”
She laughed. She was rinsing the back now, lifting the water up with both hands and letting it stream down from my neck. Running her flat hand back and forth across, she seemed satisfied no more soap remained. “There!” she said, straightening.
I rose from the water and stood there as she handed me a towel. She had put her robe back on, and as I stepped out of the tub, she went out the door. I dried myself off quickly and got into my own robe.
Helen was seated at the vanity when I entered the bedroom.
“Let’s hear your story, sweets,” I urged, flopping on the bed. “I’ll bet it has something to do with a cheetah, am I right?”
“Did Telford tell you?” she asked, slightly surprised.
“The guy at the kennel is Telford?” At her nod, I went on. “Only that he owned one and to ask you about it. He looks like a guy that would own a big cat. What happened after I left?”
“After you left I got out of the car and stood, leaning up against it. It makes me nervous to just sit in a parked car alone. I watched the cars go by, and saw the black panel truck, too. Some kid was driving. He slowed down and mentally undressed me as he went by.
“I remember thinking, these guys will be back to give me a hard time. To my surprise when they did, there were you in the middle looking out at me. I couldn’t understand why you hadn’t stopped to explain what was going on.
“My next thought was that you hadn’t stopped because they had kidnapped you, horrible as that sounded. I started hiking then back to the kennel as fast as I could. It must have taken me ten or fifteen minutes. When I burst into the office I really startled Telford. I was so out of breath I couldn’t make much sense, my words were mostly gasps, I guess.
“Telford finally got the gist of my story and told me to wait and see, that you had probably picked up a ride to the AAA station. Just in case, I thought I had better call them anyway. If you did show up, they would simply tell you I had already called and told you to wait there.
“I did that. I called them and no, you hadn’t arrived yet. They wanted the Triple A number, but I didn’t have it. You had taken the card, remember? They finally agreed to send the tow truck out, anyway. One down, one to go, I thought.
“Telford kept telling me to relax, and then offered me a drink. It sounded like a good idea, and I told him to make it real stiff. He said, ‘It’ll be that, all right,’ and asked me to join him inside.
“We went through a door in the back of the office down a hallway to a door he had to unlock to open. Turned out to be a kind of lounge, you know, soft chairs, lots of pillows, a bar on one side.
“He mixed me a drink he called a tomcat. It tasted good, like punch almost, but what a wallop. He waited until he thought I was reeling, and then told me he had a friend who would like to get acquainted with me.
“At first, I thought, he’s got some kid there who’s going to come in and really take advantage of me. But, no. What he’s talking about is a big female cat, and I mean cat. He opened a door in the room and in bounded this thing. It had legs as long as mine, and black spots all over it.
“The thing was purring like crazy and kept getting down on its knees and elbows and crawling across the floor, its tail way up in the air. It reminded me of the way they get Lassie to crawl on TV when she’s acting a part where she’s wounded.
“After crawling like that for a while, the big leopard would throw herself on her side and roll over on her back, feet up in the air. She would do this once or twice and then get back up and start meowing. And what meowing! In that small room it was frightening.
“Telford is enjoying every minute of it, of course. He sat there and just roared, that big belly just heaving up and down.
“Finally he said, ‘Let’s have some fun,’ and went over to the wall and pushed a switch. The whole wall opened like locks on a canal and out came a low king-sized bed along the floor. It finally stopped before it knocked me down.
“He wanted us to take our clothes off, but I said nothing doing. ‘Wait until you feel all that fur against your body,’ he said.
“At that point, Bea, I was confused. I still didn’t hanker to strip down for that big galooka for any reason, but wasn’t sure at the same time what he was intending.
”’Do as you please then,’ he said. ‘Watch, if you want,’ he told me. ‘They pay good money to see this in Saigon,’ and so on. My first impulse was to turn around and get the crap out of there, but you know, Bea, how funny I can think something is when everyone else is somber-faced. I stayed.
“Telford started taking his clothes off. When he was fully stripped, he looked a sight. That man is the hairiest thing I’ve ever seen. There wasn’t a spot on that body that I could see that wasn’t covered with hair, except for what was dangling out of you know where. He paddled over to the bed with the cat and both of them started rolling around in it. He grabbed the cat in a tight embrace and wrestled with it as they rolled.
”’Sure you don’t want to try it?’ he asked me, stopping to stroke the animal down the back. The big cat loved it all and purred and purred. It sounded as though they were building a subway underneath the building, the purring was so deep-throated. ‘I was sure,’ I said.
“I saw then that Telford was getting a hard-on. It just came bobbing up out of the mixture of hair and fur on the bed. He sat up and clutched it in one hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. His eyes had a glassy look, and I thought for a second he was going to sit there and masturbate. He came out of the trance and reached with his hand for a spot far down on the cat’s underbelly. With his thumb and forefinger, he tweaked the spot several times. The effect of the cheetah was instantaneous. It immediately locked itself into that crawling position I told you it was doing before. It threw its tail up and started creeping forward on the bed.
“Now I noticed, where I didn’t before, a large pink hole with a cream-colored rim pouting open several inches down from the tail. It caught the light’s reflection and glistened. Telford got down on his knees behind the cat and placed the end of his tool square at the lustrous center of that hole. The purr changed to a lower-pitched vibrating noise, and I saw the flesh around the hole push up and outward as if seeking to grab hold of the intruder that bad disturbed it.
“The man eagerly allowed the grasping hole to have its victim. The rim leeched around the end of his rigid penis and began pulling it in as a snake might convulsively swallow a young pig.
“The cat’s vibrating noise increased in intensity. It turned its head around as if to check on the source of the thing penetrating it and opened its mouth in a deep wail. This wait kept threatening to reach shriek proportions. Telford’s organ had gone all the way in, but instead of pumping in and out as you would have expected him to have done at that moment, he made a series of uninterrupted vibrating movements forward. They were of a very heavy nature affecting every muscle in his legs. He was a big man, and it was something to see the cat tearing him up like that. He came suddenly, violently, as if all the juices in his body had been sucked out through that one part of him.
“The cat had taken it all but would not let the man go. I saw the mixture of pain and pleasure on his face. The beast greedily maintained its hold. It wanted more, but the man had no more to give, except the flesh itself.
“The cheetah was screaming loudly. Telford himself was bellowing and digging his fingers into the animal’s sides, pushing himself backward. If anyone had been outside the door and heard all that commotion, they would have thought someone was being fed to the lions. It was a terrible din. It was so wild, I stood up and edged toward the door. I was afraid the cat would come for me after finishing up with Telford.
“He finally got himself out of the cat’s ass and sat on the end of the bed. He pushed both palms down around covering his genitals and howled. The howling was interrupted by an occasional outburst like ‘hah’ and ‘oho’ and ‘fat fuck’. He paid absolutely no attention to me. The cat was flopping all over the bed doing those rolling motions I told you about. It looked quite pleased. It stopped the rolling only once to reach down and lick at itself a few times and then went right back to the rolling and tossing.
”’Mizz Smallwood,’ Telford finally said to me, ‘come on over and give the little baby a hug. She won’t hurt you,’ he went on. ‘She’s just the softest most lovable thing in the world.’
“The whole business had frightened me as I said, but it had also made me a little hot. After all, Telford didn’t have any clothes on, and they had been doing it there right in front of me. I half wished the big cat had been a tom and I might have been tempted.
“I was willing to settle for Telford even. All that hair, and that big belly, not to mention that rod of his, I thought maybe he had in mind to use me for dessert, but when he got up, he walked back of the bar and washed himself off in a little sink that was there.
”’Shall we have a drink then, before we leave?’ he said, putting his shirt back on. I knew then he was in love with that cat and no other pussy. I was still half-clobbered from the last one and told him no thanks.
“He got all the way dressed then and put the cheetah back where she had come from, and we came back down to the office. It was not long after that the tow truck came.”
I looked at my sister when she had finished the story. “You mean,” I said, “he never once hinted at wanting to have intercourse with you?” I turned over, propping my head on my elbows.
She shook her head.
“Amazing,” I declared. I decided to tell her the whole story about Cameron then. She listened, laughing at some of the ways I was describing the scene in the Scotsman’s living room.
“Well, it’s true,” she remarked when I had finished. “A person becomes very devoted to a pet. I have to think of myself with Clyde. Bea, you’ve never owned any pets and don’t know,” she chided. “I’m surprised, too,” she continued, “considering your occupation.”
“Maybe that’s why,” I suggested. “It may be that I did not want to become too attached to an animal.”
“Or a man either,” she came back. “You’re going to end up an old lady having to pet your own pussy if you’re not careful. I don’t know where you got to be so independent.”
“But you don’t just have intercourse with Clyde,” I said, changing the subject. “I mean, you’re not so wrapped up with him that you can’t think about doing it with anyone else.” I got up off the bed and walked to the window.
“I suppose if it weren’t for Jack, it might end up that way,” she posed. “Jack keeps me in touch with the world of people somehow. Telford and this bagpipe player don’t have another human being in the house to remind them.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I surmised, turning from the window. “They get so they like it that way and no other, and when the opportunity comes along to go to bed with a real woman, they either don’t recognize it or can’t work up any interest.”
Helen was blushing. I knew she must have been thinking about Clyde. She did like it when the pooch did it to her, and maybe liked it better than with Jack, well, certainly with Jack, and for all I knew, better than with anyone that she had done it with since Clyde first screwed her that night.
“Bea?” she queried. “Do you honestly think we’ll find Clyde?” The tone of her question implied she was falling into depression again.
“You’ve done everything anyone could do in the situation,” I assured her. “I’m optimistic myself, and you should be, too.” I walked over to her and patted her shoulder.
“I miss getting it,” she said, “getting it good like that, and this morning, watching Telford do it to his cat reminded me.” She bent her head down and kissed the back of my hand.
“Well, there’s always the pony,” I remarked.
Her eyes lighted up. “That’s true,” she declared. “I had forgotten about him.” She stood up and went over to the window. “He’s down there grazing.” She turned to face me. “Let’s get him inside. It’s my turn, isn’t it?”
She took off for the stairs with me following. We kept colliding with each other in the run and started laughing. Helen reached the back door first and opening it said, “You get him, Bea. Your robe is heavier than mine.” It was true. You could see right through the thin nylon of her robe. The firm breasts were heaving outward as she tried to catch her wind after running so hard.
I stepped out into the yard. The pony, expecting a handful of grain, came trotting up to me and worked its lips at my right hand. It had such a soft mouth. A light breeze was playing with the snow white mane, and the afternoon sun gave its tawny hide an almost golden sheen.
“You can have some grain,” I said softly to him. “But first a little fun inside.” I gave him a pat on his cheek, and guided him back into the kitchen.
Helen was holding the door open. “Do you think we can get him to do it again?” she asked as we came inside. “Oh, I’m so hot,” she squealed, clutching her crotch through the robe. She did a little jumping movement and followed us into the living room.
The pony walked to the center of the room, lowered his head and shook it four or five times. He put one foreleg out stiff in front of him and licked at one of the joints.
Helen had taken off her robe and was walking around him looking longingly at every part of him. She came up to him and ran her thighs along his flank.
“Just the feel of him is enough to set you off,” she declared. “What marvelous hair!”
She knelt down on one knee and started caressing the folded skin out of which his enormous shaft would surely emerge if she were successful.
I knelt down on the other side and watched her ministrations. She was feeling his testicles with her other hand, cupping her hand under first one and then the other, and then trying to feel the weightiness of both of them at once.
“What big balls!” she oodled.
The pony turned his head and stretched it backward under his belly as if to nibble at her kneading fingers, but otherwise was showing no reaction to her efforts.
“How did he get hard yesterday?” I asked her.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just walked into the living room, and there it was, coming out.”
“Do you suppose he knows?” I wondered out loud. “Or is it an involuntary action?”
Helen got back on her feet and walked over to the sofa. “I’m going to get down like with Clyde,” she said, kneeling before the sofa and placing her hands up on the cushions. She spread her knees apart and jutted her butt back and upward. “Bring him over,” she requested.
I walked the pony to where her gorgeous bottom was exposed. The lips were swollen and had a purply pink color that showed through the hair. Just the faintest hint of a wet, dark red interior was visible along the line separating them.
I couldn’t resist patting the pert little puffiness that bulged up at me. Her reaction was to wiggle her rear end and groan, thrusting the fat cunny upward some more. The lips opened to reveal more of the engorged tissue inside. It was stunningly moist. How could the pony resist it?
The pony did notice it and mouthed it gently with his lips, breathing heavily on it at the same time.
“Oh, gosh! I wish somebody would do something,” Helen moaned. It struck me as an odd statement.
The pony licked out at the gash, turning its head sideways so that the juicy tongue was aligned vertically with it. The big muscle slopped and pushed as it churned up the flesh. His saliva foamed slightly around his lips, and as he bared his teeth at one point, I was afraid he might try to bite.
Helen had pushed her face down into the sofa cushion. It was bright red and covered with sweat. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth held loosely open. Her breath was coming out in heavy shuddering sighs.
The pony raised one front hoof and dug at Helen’s back. I could tell by the way she raised her head suddenly that it had hurt, and I ran to the coat closet, bringing back a thick, fluffy car coat. I threw this across her back.
The animal was slowly getting an erection. It came out almost imperceptibly at first and then, like one of those long, thin balloons, filled out fast at the end. The skin stretched very tightly along the length of it when it was fully hard, and the big, blobby knob at the tip seemed enormous.
Again, he raised a hoof at her back. The third time, he succeeded in getting both hooves up and took aim with his organ. I couldn’t believe that huge shaft would positively land on target when he landed, and got down on the floor beside them.
Grabbing the thick, massive stick of meat, I tried by bending and waving to aim it at the precise spot. It took both hands to hold it steady.
Whinnying and pawing at Helen’s back, the animal lunged downward. With an awful glopping noise, the big head poked into the space between the lips, slamming in with tremendous force.
I sprang back quickly, releasing my grip. The entire organ went down like the Titanic, with a rush, filling into the space available to it at an alarming pace.
Helen’s head was pushed into the back of the sofa. She grunted in one long horrible sound that a person being pressed to death might have made. Her face was pushed out of shape where it was against the upholstery.
The big penis finally struck bottom with about four or five inches still to go inside. The pert little bottom I had just been admiring was opened and stretched beyond credibility, the lips clutching at the shaft seeming about to split.
Helen recovered quickly from the initial thrust and pushing up with her hands, regained a tenable position. The huge organ was imbedded deeply inside her, and she seemed determined to brave its next assaults.
The pony began working the staff back and down in a series of short, broadly based thrusts that seemed designed to achieve complete penetration. Something in the animal’s instinct apparatus was telling it everything was not right as long as the merest fraction of an inch remained outside.
He was driving against her, pressing and stretching, his rump weaving to and fro, as the organ dug deeper into her.
For her part, she pushed back against him apparently eager to take as much as he was willing to give. The natural juices began to ooze from around his shaft as it moved back and forth between the completely distended lips of her vulva. It was working out okay.
“Oh, boy!” she finally found the words. “This is the ride of my life.” Her head was raised high, and I noticed she was biting at her lower lip. “This coat is so damned hot,” she muttered.
The pony kept packing it in, deeper and still deeper. I could see that about two inches remained outside. The enormous testicles were already beginning to bump against her thighs. Gradually, those same testicles began to pull up, and the skin around them acquired an increasingly complex network of ridges.
Snorting and blowing, the animal increased the tempo of his thrusts. His forelegs began to slip off Helen’s back on either side, and he allowed his head to hang down, its one side pressed against her ribcage.
His balls had by now been drawn up into his groin completely, and I took this to mean those great agates were about to be emptied of their contents.
Sure enough, the animal made one last thrust of a frenzier nature than the others and let out a deep, satisfying neigh that seemed to originate from deep within him.
The hot come must have been gushing into her then. After the third or fourth spasm, it came babbling out all around his organ and ran down into her pubic hair, some of it trailing off down her thighs, a few blobs dropping off onto the floor.
Most of the action was now due to Helen’s movements as the pony gradually stopped all motion. Helen let out a shriek of pleasure suddenly and collapsed forward on the sofa again. The coat fell down around her head, blocking my view of her face.
The pony made a couple of short deep neighs and backed off. As his organ was withdrawn, the fat head inside momentarily resisted, stretching the lining out like so much taffy. As a rubber band will snap when released, the end popped out finally, letting loose a well spring of come from inside her vagina.
I ran into the bathroom for some Kleenex and hurried back, placing a pile of them under her so at least to protect the sofa from the oozing flow. She was so open I could have thrust in my hand and arm up to the elbow. This, I thought, must be how I looked to Helen the day before.
She was enjoying her reverie, and I chose not to disturb her. Placing the rest of tissues on the sofa, I guided the pony into the kitchen and outside. He was such a gentle, docile beast except when he was screwing.
I thought of so many men I had known who were just the opposite. Gruff, aggressive, loud, even bellicose some of the time, they were just barely adequate in bed.
I heard the shower running upstairs when I came back into the living room and concluded Helen had gone up. There was going to be another wet spot on the carpet today. I went into the kitchen for the necessary cleaning materials.
After brushing out the spot I had cleaned with some paper towels, I sat back on the sofa. Watching the pony have intercourse with Helen had left me high. There had been no release as there seldom is for the voyeur unless he chooses to masturbate.
The lighthearted feeling combined with the blood-engorged tissues in my pelvic region was completely unsatisfying. I looked forward to the evening when we would drive over to John’s house. I would leave it to him to figure out a way for us to be alone.
It irritated me that I had allowed my last thought to enter my brain. I didn’t usually give up on a problem by telling myself some man would solve it for me. That was falling into the trap of female subdominant, which had led to thousands of years of slavery for women.
I had best watch my step with him, I thought, since he was leading me into the valley of temptation that way. I produced a mental picture of him, his easy going way, his willingness to banter or argue as the whim moved me. I also liked the fact that he was something of a loner.
I could live with a guy like that, I concluded.
Business thoughts and returning to New York entered my head. There was one more pony owner to see. I got up and went into my bedroom, taking the little notebook I carried around with me out of my bag.
Thumbing through it, I found the phone number of the man who had bought four ponies from Cunningham. Walking back into the kitchen to the phone, something odd struck me about the number. It occurred to me that I had seen that telephone exchange and exact number somewhere else.
I dialed the number and a very soft-spoken male voice answered. I explained who I was and how I had come by the number and asked his permission to come and see him and take a few pictures of the ponies.
“I only have one pony,” he said softly.
I explained that Cunningham had told me there were four.
“I only have one pony,” he repeated in the same tone.
As he was obviously reticent to expand on the subject, at least over the phone, I dropped it and asked if I could visit him. He seemed willing, in a vague kind of way, and suggested a date about a week hence. I told him that was impossible and explained my schedule.
“All right,” he said flatly. “Come by tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”
He gave me his name as Albert Felt. The address was a rural route box number on a country road. I thought of Cunningham’s description of the place, and it certainly fitted what one might imagine from the address just given me by Felt.
Helen came down in her robe. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, and she was humming gaily.
“Fully recovered?” I asked, winking at her.
“Except I feel pretty well reamed out,” she allowed. “Not sore, though,” she was quick to point out. “Just,” she paused, “what is the word I want?” she asked.
“Enlarged?” I suggested.
She winced.
“How about ‘reshaped’?” I proposed.
“That’s it,” she said. “I just feel reshaped. How about a cup of coffee, Sis?”
“Good idea.”
“I should start dinner,” she informed me, looking at the wall clock. “If we’re all going out tonight, we should eat early.” She fixed some percolated coffee, and we chatted while it perked. I told her about Felt. She would go, she said, but didn’t like to be away from the house so much with Clyde gone.
I suddenly remembered where I had seen Felt’s telephone number before and got up to go into the living room. I found the little slip of paper I had discovered the afternoon before. It was where I had seen it, in the pocket of one of Jack’s coats. There was no mistake. It was Felt’s number.
Coming back into the kitchen I asked Helen, “Have you ever heard Jack mention this fellow Felt?”
“Never,” she said. “Why?”
I told her of what I had accidentally found in the pocket.
“Jack knows an awful lot of people,” she told me. “What does this guy do?”
“I think Cunningham told me he owned a garage,” I said.
“Well, there’s your explanation,” she said. “Jack knows every garage owner in the state of Texas. He sells tires. I don’t think it’s anything strange that he would know this guy Felt.” She looked at me for a minute. “If you want, I can ask him,” she offered.
Something told me I shouldn’t have mentioned the matter to her. “I’d rather you didn’t,” I said. “It was silly of me to bring it up. It’s just a dumb coincidence.”
We sat there waiting for the coffee to be ready. I could tell by Helen’s expression that she thought I was on to something about Jack. Just what that something was, I hesitated to ask even myself.
We arrived at John’s place about eight o’clock. It had been darker than usual that night, and Jack experienced some difficulty negotiating the road up to the house. It turned out to be every bit as winding as John had described it, and I could imagine the road after a heavy rainstorm.
Jack was in high spirits. Helen had promised to return the pony the day after next, but only because Jack had carried on so. Pleased at her acquiescence, he had mixed himself a few highballs after dinner and had become jolly company for us ever since.
John’s house turned out to be more of an oversized cabin than a regular house. As we pulled up, I noticed another car next to John’s pickup.
John met us at the door and we trooped inside en masse. The interior resembled a lodge. We entered first a narrow hallway lined with coat hooks, but this led directly to a huge living room with a fireplace at one end and a balcony all along one side. A small fire burned in the fireplace.
Stereo speakers were placed on each side of the fireplace, which was very wide and made of a white stone of some kind. Music was coming from all sides of the room, however, and I noticed another pair of speakers at the opposite end of the room. The walls were covered with paintings.
A large polished oak bar had been installed near the fireplace just under one end of the balcony. It was heavily carved and looked like it might have been European. There was a man standing behind the bar, leaning on his elbows and swishing a drink in his hands. He was staring right at me with an almost imperceptible smile on his face.
John introduced everybody calmly, and asked what we were drinking. All of the men had either bourbon or Scotch, but Helen as usual asked for a cocktail. I settled for some bourbon on the rocks with a little soda.
The man behind the bar was introduced as Perry Somers, John’s lawyer and drinking partner. The latter designation brought smiles to both of them. He had dropped by unexpectedly, and there was a lot of repartee about where to find a girl for him to round out the party.
Some jokes were made about sharing the girls who were already there, and I was certain that the idea was not entirely a matter of humor to Somers.
John passed out the drinks and we grouped ourselves around the fireplace. He explained that we were hearing quadraphonic, not stereophonic, music being produced because there were four speakers instead of two. The music sounded like early ragtime piano.
As I sat there, I thought of the difference a few years made in terms of a get-together like this, or perhaps it was a matter of geography.
The last gathering I had attended in New York had involved people a good decade younger on the average. There had been no booze, just pot for those who wanted it, very loud rock music, and low, low lights. There wasn’t all the talk about sex as there seemed to be here, but there was plenty of action although none of it was very private.
I wondered what kind of a sex scene was going to evolve out of the five of us. My personal preference was to have John all to myself somewhere for the rest of the evening, but the independent streak in me was telling me maybe that would just lead to unwanted complications.
John was friendly but seemed to be making a point of not appearing possessive with me. I was annoyed that that should bother me, which it obviously did. Somers was acting like he had a clear field with me. It made me wonder what John had gotten to tell him about me before we arrived.
“As a writer,” Somers was telling me, “you must have some opinions about today’s young people.”
“I do,” I said. “I think they are just as you named them. Young people.”
“I detect then a note of disapproval. You feel, perhaps, like many of us, that parents and the nation as a whole have been too permissive?”
“When there is affluence, much leisure time, and a high degree of technology, permissive attitudes are a natural consequence,” I said. “I myself could not, as a woman, be as independent as I am in a poor, struggling society such as exists today in Latin America, for example.”
“I should expect you to express your independence quite agreeably wherever you lived, Miss Starr,” he complimented me.
“Beatrice,” I informed him.
“Ah yes, Beatrice. Bay-at-trichay.” He gave it the Italian pronunciation. “Dante’s distant vision of loveliness, and you are very lovely, Beatrice, too.” He kept his eyes on me as he drank. “And very intelligent as well.”
He was spreading it on thick. I figured then he had me all staked out for the bedroom. I glanced at John. He was taking it all in from across the room, all smiles. I pretended complete bemusement.
“You feel then, Bea, your independence, or your freedom, whatever you want to call it, exists only because men have permitted it?”
“In a patriarchal society, such as we have, it could not be otherwise,” I said.
“I think you must hate us men very much,” he imagined. “Tell me then, Bea. I’m calling you Bea, I hope you don’t mind. Tell me that you don’t hate me. I should feel terrible if you said otherwise.”
“Why don’t you fix me another drink?” I asked, tiring of his game.
“By all means, Bea,” he replied, getting up and going over to the bar.
John was sitting in between Jack and Helen and came over when he saw Somers head for the bar.
“What do you think of the old family retainer?” he asked me.
“Who is he retaining tonight?” I wanted to know.
“Are you interested?” he asked, pretending surprise. “I’ll relay the message, that is, if you haven’t already. But Perry’s a little dense that way.”
“He’s only dense when it comes to saying ‘no’,” I informed him.
Somers returned with two drinks. “Here you are, Bea.” He sat down across from us. “Your little friend is quite charming, Johnny. It’s a pity you can’t tie her up or something. New York’s such a dreadful place.” He sipped his new drink carefully.
“Maybe a lot of people might think the same of Dallas,” I said to him, a bit ruffled.
“Perhaps. But you never hear it,” he said. “And you always hear it about New York.”
I refused to be baited into defending the place I had chosen to live in, particularly when I wasn’t sure why he was hoping I would lose my temper. He probably hoped to work the old ploy of women being unstable, emotional and the like.
He could then say to John, “See, your free-flying little bird is just like all the rest. Clip her wings and she’ll keep house for you.”
“How long have you lived here?” I asked John.
“About six months, Bea. How do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s cozy,” I said, “and isolated. It’s such a funny place to live in all by yourself.”
“Haven’t you told her, Johnny?” Somers interrupted.
“Told me what?” I looked startled.
“It isn’t perhaps that important, Perry,” John said. “Bea wants no involvements.”
Somers laughed out loud at that. “You naive boy,” he almost choked. “At, what is it, forty-one? Two? There hasn’t been a woman born, Johnny, who doesn’t want that ball and chain welded on. This lovely girl is no exception.”
I hated to see John let himself become embarrassed but his friend had succeeded.
“Perry is very opinionated, Bea. He also is not going to be satisfied until he can find that chink in your armor where he can dig the old knife in. Don’t let him find it,” John said.
“Bravo, Johnny!” Somers roared.
“Forewarned is forearmed, Bea. My terrible secret is out.”
“What is it that he meant before, John?” I asked, my curiosity still aroused.
“This house was built for me and my future wife, Bea,” he said. “We were to have been married last June, but Pat’s mother in Los Angeles developed terminal cancer, and we put things off until January.”
“You mean you’re engaged, is that it?” I asked.
He nodded.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I don’t know what I had expected him to say, but the news of his engagement was anticlimactic. Somers was examining my face for the faintest sign of disappointment.
“Ten to one, Johnny,” Somers said, “Ten to one, she starts acting differently with you.”
“I’ll get in on that bet, too,” I said. “There may be a lot of angles here you haven’t even thought of, Mister Attorney.” I said it and wasn’t even sure myself what I meant by it. It had an effect on him.
“What’s happening over here?” Helen interrupted.
Somers was looking at me and thinking.
“What do you say we get more comfortable?” John suggested. “Bea, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” He walked over to the wall and turned a switch, dimming the lights in the room to a very low level. “Come on,” be said.
I got up and followed John to a stairway leading up to the balcony. We walked up together, arm in arm. When we reached the top, he took me in his arms and kissed me. All I could think of was Somers down below, watching my every move.
“Your mind’s not on your work,” John informed me.
“Your friend. How does Pat get along with him?” I asked.
“Hate each other’s guts, naturally,” John informed me.
“Seriously,” I urged.
“Well, actually, he thinks Pat would make a good wife for me, like he thinks of a wife, a housekeeper, mother, mistress combination thing. But in reality I don’t think he wants me to get married at all. We’ve been bachelors all our lives, and he sees no reason to change.”
We walked slowly down a corridor to a large bedroom.
“This is the master bedroom,” he said, turning up a dimmer switch. Several colorful paintings on the walls attracted my attention.
“Who did all these wonderful paintings?” I asked.
“You’re looking at him.”
“John, you’re an artist!” I exclaimed, amazed I hadn’t found it out sooner. “You must think me awfully uninterested in you.” It had not even occurred to me before to ask him what he did.
He seemed embarrassed. “Some of these are Pat’s.”
“Those downstairs, are they all yours?” I asked.
He nodded.
I shut the door and walked over to the bed, unbuttoning my blouse. I sat down on the bed to remove my shoes.
“You’re not bothered, knowing this belongs to someone else?” he inquired.
“I said no strings. How could I be bothered?” I lied. I was down to my bra and panties when he came over and sat down beside me.
“I had hoped downstairs, after you had found out, that it might make a difference,” he revealed.
He was showing me a side of him I didn’t like. He was sincere in letting me know he cared, but I felt it was unfair under the circumstances.
I cared about him, too, but I wasn’t sure how much. I was certain, though, that if I admitted to caring, the very act of admission and its results were likely to be out of all proportion to the game.
“Let’s just make love,” I said, lying down on the bed.
He got up to dim the lights and began undressing very slowly and quietly. I could hear the voice of Somers downstairs talking very loudly, followed by Helen’s laughter.
Lying naked on the large bed I was conscious for the first time in ages of being outside my body. I was standing beside the bed looking down at my nakedness, only it wasn’t me looking but somebody that had part of me forever inside him, and that part made it be me.
And it wasn’t me lying on the bed, but somebody that had a part of me forever inside her, and that part of it made it be me.
John climbed up on the bed. In the dim light I saw his erection bobbing between his legs and I wondered what part of me he was going to touch first. I felt his fingers close over one knee, linger a moment, and then move forward caressing my hip.
He moved his knees in close, and I felt the hair on his legs brush against my thighs. As he moved forward the hardness of his body enveloped me and brought tears to my eyes. Closing my eyes tightly, I fought them back and reached up around him with my arms.
I opened my legs for him to enter as he must, for what other way is there? The rigid penis with the bulging head so hard and yet so soft, a velvet cushion perched on the end of a steel rod, punched lightly at my vulva.
My vagina was drier than usual, and the fat organ did not immediately penetrate. It pushed in very slowly, the want of lubrication giving me the impression his prick was much bigger than it was. I could feel the pressure of entry tugging at the skin as the shaft moved relentlessly forward.
“Oh, John,” I whispered.
The feeling of tightness persisted even after he was in and began pumping the organ back and forth. The juices started flowing then, generously covering his rod, and the tugging ceased. He drove deeper and deeper, determined to make his penetration of me a part of his life and my life together.
I could feel his heaving chest as it expanded against my breasts, the hard ribs of him against the soft flesh of me. He was kissing the tears off my face and then kissing the source of those tears. He was able to do that.
I was letting myself go with him, not holding back, and it brought me to climax quickly. The churning of the stiff male instrument deep within me soon brought little pulses of pleasureful feeling at the end of each downstroke, each one greater than the one before. They began to build to such intensity that I was hurting for release. And I needed release. I needed it and wanted it that moment more than I ever had.
I clutched him to me as the exploding pleasure suddenly spread throughout my system, filling every nerve and every capillary. It spread like morphine through a dope-starved addict’s body, reaching out to toe and fingertip alike, bringing peace and love and happiness.
And while I lay there filled with ecstasy, he came inside me, filling me with the hot butter from his balls, pumping shot after shot of the sperm that had been his, which he now willingly, gladly gave to me in quick, hard spurts.
We lay in each other’s arms for a long time, sleeping the sleep of two who had seized a moment without reservations, without guilt, and had won.
I awoke after dreaming dreams that left my memory on awakening. Dreams that left only sadness at having forgotten the Eden I must have been dreaming about.
I felt the bed for John and he was no longer on it. Where had he gone? Perhaps he was still in the room. I called his name softly and got no reply. I noticed the lights had been turned all the way off.
“John!” I called, more loudly.
“How about John’s alter ego?” a voice I recognized at once declared.
My first thought was, Why did John let this happen? My second was irritation at the first. I was independent, wasn’t I? John was not my lord protector, nor did I want him to be.
“Methinks the lady’s silence doth protest too much,” Somers said.
“What in hell are you doing in here?” I asked, controlled fury in my tone. “Get out!”
“Melodrama from the lady. Get out at once, you cad, you scoundrel!” he declared in mock theatrical tones.
I peered through the darkness of the room. He was somewhere over near the door. A likely place, I thought. Cut me off if I made a run for it.
“Somers,” I began, “You wanted me to tell you that I didn’t hate you tonight. Now it’s my turn to ask why you dislike me so much.”
The voice moved over nearer the bed. “I don’t dislike you, Beatrice. I’m afraid of you. There is something in you that threatens me.”
He was talking like a crazy person. “You’ve seen too many horror movies,” I said. “Get out of here!” It was hard to take him seriously, talking nonsense like that.
Suddenly the lights came on full blast. I saw him then, about midway between the door and the bed. He was standing stark naked with an erect penis tilting off at an angle. It was somewhat short but fat. He seemed to enjoy his exhibition of it.
I got up off the bed like a shot and started hunting for my clothes. Someone had taken them from the floor where I had dropped them.
“Clothes are useless commodities, aren’t they?” he said. “Especially when there is lovemaking to be enjoyed.”
“Enjoyed?” I asked. I had folded my arms over my breasts. I sat down finally on the bed and pulled the quilt over my body, turning away from him entirely. “Maybe if I pretend you’re not there, you’ll go away.”
He walked over very close to me, holding his erection forward.
“I don’t expect you to give me the full treatment, Bea. I already know you want to get married, so no amount of convincing me how much you really love John, as you probably just did with him, would change my notion that marriage is all you are after. What is it you really want in bed?” he insisted.
“You’re a sick man, Mr. Somers. You have some hang-up about women that’s made you sick,” I said, feeling myself starting to come unglued.
“You wouldn’t be any good for John. If he has to have a wife, the one he’s got is more suited to his personality. Your independent ways would destroy his talent in no time. Why, just keeping track of your comings and goings would be a full-time job,” he kept bringing his penis closer and closer.
“What is it you want me to do? I’m leaving here in a day or two. John knows that. As far as I know, I’ll never see him again.” I was beginning to shake.
“The hysterical woman! Spare me, please.” He brought his penis within inches of my face. “Here,” he said, indicating his stiff organ. “Take this. It’s the best medicine in the world for little girls who have lost their way.”
He wanted me to suck his cock. It was a symbolic act of some kind. It would prove in his mind that I was inferior.
It wouldn’t work, I thought. It wouldn’t work because for one thing, I didn’t believe it. It takes two people to make a religion. I was determined to turn the tables on him.
I jumped up suddenly. “Lie down on the bed,” I commanded. He appeared stunned, too stunned to disobey. I got on top of him in the sixty-nine position, making sure my pussy was full into his face. He began to protest, but I ignored him.
He was not a strong man or he might have been able to throw me off. As it was I had a devil of a time staying on top of him that way. I sat with my muff full on his head.
His erection had fallen off slightly. I picked it up and, holding it by the base, stuck it into my mouth. I sucked hard on it, stretching it out and rolling my tongue down around and along it. It stiffened back up pretty fast.
He must have been standing there in the dark with his erection for a long time, because there was a lot of pre-seminal fluid in the organ. The sweet, nut-like taste of it was unmistakable in my mouth.
His erection restored, I began blowing him in earnest, rising and failing with my head in a steady rhythm, salivating copiously and sucking at the same time.
It was a short cock, but fit well inside my mouth. I could close down on the base with my lips without any feeling of gagging. On the other hand, it was quite fat, and distended the lips considerably.
His balls hung loosely in a rather flabby looking scrotum. My nose kept poking into the sac as I went down. As I was working, I noticed the skin on the sac begin to convolute as the testicles began to rise.
So far he had not made any attempt to perform cunnilingus on me, and I gave up hoping.
I began to pick up the rhythm of my rising and failing head as his testicles pulled up tighter and tighter. The sac had lost its flabbiness and actually became a tight little pouch under his penis. It began to turn a dark purple red.
As things fast approached a climax, he began to move instinctively in rhythm with my movements. His pelvis made thrusts upward as I drove downward with my mouth.
The scrotum pulled up further and became one fat, tight ball. As it almost disappeared into his groin, I felt the head of his cock swell suddenly inside my mouth. Instantaneously the first squirt of hot come jetted deep down into my throat, I gulped instinctively.
The organ pumped out more in successive spurts. I sucked hard and kept swallowing in deep gulps trying to keep up with the load. I didn’t hold back on any of it. When I had swallowed the last drop, I let go of it and collapsed, gasping, my mouth tingling and my throat on fire from the hot sperm.
During the hot flush of swallowing the load I had failed to feel my partner’s activity down below. He was muffing me rather crudely without any plan or apparent knowledge of what he was about, but he was trying.
“My dearest Bea,” he said, “does that feel good?”
He wasn’t going to get me off the way he was kissing me, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I especially enjoyed the fact that he was down there after all.
“Fine,” I said.
For a lawyer, he made a lousy face man.
Helen was sitting on the toilet seat in her robe listening intently, her feet propped up on the edge of the tub. I could see everything she owned in that position, and what I saw was deliciously pleasing.
Remembering the comments made about my hairiness that day, I wondered what, if any, remarks would have been said had it been Helen there instead of me. Certainly no man in his right mind could fault that pussy.
Her hair was much lighter than mine and formed a perfect triangle. Whereas mine tended to grow wild, hers almost seemed sculpted, the margins clear, the hairline well defined. The hair itself glowed in contrast to my own, which could look dull, lacking the magical highlights I observed now in Helen’s.
Her well-developed lips formed a perfect cleft. No open gash here, no flabby distended labia. Just Helen’s fat little pussy for all the world to see. I wondered how much Jack appreciated that darling cunny.
Helen observed my rapture and, noticing the source of it, closed her legs and tucked in her robe.
“You can make a girl horny sometimes, Bea,” she noted. “There are times when I think you appreciate me that way more than Jack. He’s never one to drink me in with his eyes like that.”
I lifted a leg up out of the water. “I wish I had it all together like you,” I told her.
“Bea Starr, you’re still fourteen years old wishing you were seventeen, aren’t you?” she maintained. She got up off the seat. “Here, let me scrub your back.”
I sat up, swirling the water around me. My back was piping hot.
“I better take my robe off,” Helen said, “or it’ll get wet for sure.” The robe dropped and she stood there, naked, as close to me as ever I could remember. Uncontrollably, my hand reached up and lightly touched the top of her thigh. The wet fingers trailed off down and back into the tub.
She bent over and started scrubbing my back with a soapy washcloth. Her large breasts swung in unison with her movements. I turned my head to get closer to them, and one slapped against my face, the hard nipple tracing a line across my upper lip. Indescribable urges were tormenting me.
“Hey!” I cried. “That’s heavy cargo.”
She laughed. She was rinsing the back now, lifting the water up with both hands and letting it stream down from my neck. Running her flat hand back and forth across, she seemed satisfied no more soap remained. “There!” she said, straightening.
I rose from the water and stood there as she handed me a towel. She had put her robe back on, and as I stepped out of the tub, she went out the door. I dried myself off quickly and got into my own robe.
Helen was seated at the vanity when I entered the bedroom.
“Let’s hear your story, sweets,” I urged, flopping on the bed. “I’ll bet it has something to do with a cheetah, am I right?”
“Did Telford tell you?” she asked, slightly surprised.
“The guy at the kennel is Telford?” At her nod, I went on. “Only that he owned one and to ask you about it. He looks like a guy that would own a big cat. What happened after I left?”
“After you left I got out of the car and stood, leaning up against it. It makes me nervous to just sit in a parked car alone. I watched the cars go by, and saw the black panel truck, too. Some kid was driving. He slowed down and mentally undressed me as he went by.
“I remember thinking, these guys will be back to give me a hard time. To my surprise when they did, there were you in the middle looking out at me. I couldn’t understand why you hadn’t stopped to explain what was going on.
“My next thought was that you hadn’t stopped because they had kidnapped you, horrible as that sounded. I started hiking then back to the kennel as fast as I could. It must have taken me ten or fifteen minutes. When I burst into the office I really startled Telford. I was so out of breath I couldn’t make much sense, my words were mostly gasps, I guess.
“Telford finally got the gist of my story and told me to wait and see, that you had probably picked up a ride to the AAA station. Just in case, I thought I had better call them anyway. If you did show up, they would simply tell you I had already called and told you to wait there.
“I did that. I called them and no, you hadn’t arrived yet. They wanted the Triple A number, but I didn’t have it. You had taken the card, remember? They finally agreed to send the tow truck out, anyway. One down, one to go, I thought.
“Telford kept telling me to relax, and then offered me a drink. It sounded like a good idea, and I told him to make it real stiff. He said, ‘It’ll be that, all right,’ and asked me to join him inside.
“We went through a door in the back of the office down a hallway to a door he had to unlock to open. Turned out to be a kind of lounge, you know, soft chairs, lots of pillows, a bar on one side.
“He mixed me a drink he called a tomcat. It tasted good, like punch almost, but what a wallop. He waited until he thought I was reeling, and then told me he had a friend who would like to get acquainted with me.
“At first, I thought, he’s got some kid there who’s going to come in and really take advantage of me. But, no. What he’s talking about is a big female cat, and I mean cat. He opened a door in the room and in bounded this thing. It had legs as long as mine, and black spots all over it.
“The thing was purring like crazy and kept getting down on its knees and elbows and crawling across the floor, its tail way up in the air. It reminded me of the way they get Lassie to crawl on TV when she’s acting a part where she’s wounded.
“After crawling like that for a while, the big leopard would throw herself on her side and roll over on her back, feet up in the air. She would do this once or twice and then get back up and start meowing. And what meowing! In that small room it was frightening.
“Telford is enjoying every minute of it, of course. He sat there and just roared, that big belly just heaving up and down.
“Finally he said, ‘Let’s have some fun,’ and went over to the wall and pushed a switch. The whole wall opened like locks on a canal and out came a low king-sized bed along the floor. It finally stopped before it knocked me down.
“He wanted us to take our clothes off, but I said nothing doing. ‘Wait until you feel all that fur against your body,’ he said.
“At that point, Bea, I was confused. I still didn’t hanker to strip down for that big galooka for any reason, but wasn’t sure at the same time what he was intending.
”’Do as you please then,’ he said. ‘Watch, if you want,’ he told me. ‘They pay good money to see this in Saigon,’ and so on. My first impulse was to turn around and get the crap out of there, but you know, Bea, how funny I can think something is when everyone else is somber-faced. I stayed.
“Telford started taking his clothes off. When he was fully stripped, he looked a sight. That man is the hairiest thing I’ve ever seen. There wasn’t a spot on that body that I could see that wasn’t covered with hair, except for what was dangling out of you know where. He paddled over to the bed with the cat and both of them started rolling around in it. He grabbed the cat in a tight embrace and wrestled with it as they rolled.
”’Sure you don’t want to try it?’ he asked me, stopping to stroke the animal down the back. The big cat loved it all and purred and purred. It sounded as though they were building a subway underneath the building, the purring was so deep-throated. ‘I was sure,’ I said.
“I saw then that Telford was getting a hard-on. It just came bobbing up out of the mixture of hair and fur on the bed. He sat up and clutched it in one hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it. His eyes had a glassy look, and I thought for a second he was going to sit there and masturbate. He came out of the trance and reached with his hand for a spot far down on the cat’s underbelly. With his thumb and forefinger, he tweaked the spot several times. The effect of the cheetah was instantaneous. It immediately locked itself into that crawling position I told you it was doing before. It threw its tail up and started creeping forward on the bed.
“Now I noticed, where I didn’t before, a large pink hole with a cream-colored rim pouting open several inches down from the tail. It caught the light’s reflection and glistened. Telford got down on his knees behind the cat and placed the end of his tool square at the lustrous center of that hole. The purr changed to a lower-pitched vibrating noise, and I saw the flesh around the hole push up and outward as if seeking to grab hold of the intruder that bad disturbed it.
“The man eagerly allowed the grasping hole to have its victim. The rim leeched around the end of his rigid penis and began pulling it in as a snake might convulsively swallow a young pig.
“The cat’s vibrating noise increased in intensity. It turned its head around as if to check on the source of the thing penetrating it and opened its mouth in a deep wail. This wait kept threatening to reach shriek proportions. Telford’s organ had gone all the way in, but instead of pumping in and out as you would have expected him to have done at that moment, he made a series of uninterrupted vibrating movements forward. They were of a very heavy nature affecting every muscle in his legs. He was a big man, and it was something to see the cat tearing him up like that. He came suddenly, violently, as if all the juices in his body had been sucked out through that one part of him.
“The cat had taken it all but would not let the man go. I saw the mixture of pain and pleasure on his face. The beast greedily maintained its hold. It wanted more, but the man had no more to give, except the flesh itself.
“The cheetah was screaming loudly. Telford himself was bellowing and digging his fingers into the animal’s sides, pushing himself backward. If anyone had been outside the door and heard all that commotion, they would have thought someone was being fed to the lions. It was a terrible din. It was so wild, I stood up and edged toward the door. I was afraid the cat would come for me after finishing up with Telford.
“He finally got himself out of the cat’s ass and sat on the end of the bed. He pushed both palms down around covering his genitals and howled. The howling was interrupted by an occasional outburst like ‘hah’ and ‘oho’ and ‘fat fuck’. He paid absolutely no attention to me. The cat was flopping all over the bed doing those rolling motions I told you about. It looked quite pleased. It stopped the rolling only once to reach down and lick at itself a few times and then went right back to the rolling and tossing.
”’Mizz Smallwood,’ Telford finally said to me, ‘come on over and give the little baby a hug. She won’t hurt you,’ he went on. ‘She’s just the softest most lovable thing in the world.’
“The whole business had frightened me as I said, but it had also made me a little hot. After all, Telford didn’t have any clothes on, and they had been doing it there right in front of me. I half wished the big cat had been a tom and I might have been tempted.
“I was willing to settle for Telford even. All that hair, and that big belly, not to mention that rod of his, I thought maybe he had in mind to use me for dessert, but when he got up, he walked back of the bar and washed himself off in a little sink that was there.
”’Shall we have a drink then, before we leave?’ he said, putting his shirt back on. I knew then he was in love with that cat and no other pussy. I was still half-clobbered from the last one and told him no thanks.
“He got all the way dressed then and put the cheetah back where she had come from, and we came back down to the office. It was not long after that the tow truck came.”
I looked at my sister when she had finished the story. “You mean,” I said, “he never once hinted at wanting to have intercourse with you?” I turned over, propping my head on my elbows.
She shook her head.
“Amazing,” I declared. I decided to tell her the whole story about Cameron then. She listened, laughing at some of the ways I was describing the scene in the Scotsman’s living room.
“Well, it’s true,” she remarked when I had finished. “A person becomes very devoted to a pet. I have to think of myself with Clyde. Bea, you’ve never owned any pets and don’t know,” she chided. “I’m surprised, too,” she continued, “considering your occupation.”
“Maybe that’s why,” I suggested. “It may be that I did not want to become too attached to an animal.”
“Or a man either,” she came back. “You’re going to end up an old lady having to pet your own pussy if you’re not careful. I don’t know where you got to be so independent.”
“But you don’t just have intercourse with Clyde,” I said, changing the subject. “I mean, you’re not so wrapped up with him that you can’t think about doing it with anyone else.” I got up off the bed and walked to the window.
“I suppose if it weren’t for Jack, it might end up that way,” she posed. “Jack keeps me in touch with the world of people somehow. Telford and this bagpipe player don’t have another human being in the house to remind them.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I surmised, turning from the window. “They get so they like it that way and no other, and when the opportunity comes along to go to bed with a real woman, they either don’t recognize it or can’t work up any interest.”
Helen was blushing. I knew she must have been thinking about Clyde. She did like it when the pooch did it to her, and maybe liked it better than with Jack, well, certainly with Jack, and for all I knew, better than with anyone that she had done it with since Clyde first screwed her that night.
“Bea?” she queried. “Do you honestly think we’ll find Clyde?” The tone of her question implied she was falling into depression again.
“You’ve done everything anyone could do in the situation,” I assured her. “I’m optimistic myself, and you should be, too.” I walked over to her and patted her shoulder.
“I miss getting it,” she said, “getting it good like that, and this morning, watching Telford do it to his cat reminded me.” She bent her head down and kissed the back of my hand.
“Well, there’s always the pony,” I remarked.
Her eyes lighted up. “That’s true,” she declared. “I had forgotten about him.” She stood up and went over to the window. “He’s down there grazing.” She turned to face me. “Let’s get him inside. It’s my turn, isn’t it?”
She took off for the stairs with me following. We kept colliding with each other in the run and started laughing. Helen reached the back door first and opening it said, “You get him, Bea. Your robe is heavier than mine.” It was true. You could see right through the thin nylon of her robe. The firm breasts were heaving outward as she tried to catch her wind after running so hard.
I stepped out into the yard. The pony, expecting a handful of grain, came trotting up to me and worked its lips at my right hand. It had such a soft mouth. A light breeze was playing with the snow white mane, and the afternoon sun gave its tawny hide an almost golden sheen.
“You can have some grain,” I said softly to him. “But first a little fun inside.” I gave him a pat on his cheek, and guided him back into the kitchen.
Helen was holding the door open. “Do you think we can get him to do it again?” she asked as we came inside. “Oh, I’m so hot,” she squealed, clutching her crotch through the robe. She did a little jumping movement and followed us into the living room.
The pony walked to the center of the room, lowered his head and shook it four or five times. He put one foreleg out stiff in front of him and licked at one of the joints.
Helen had taken off her robe and was walking around him looking longingly at every part of him. She came up to him and ran her thighs along his flank.
“Just the feel of him is enough to set you off,” she declared. “What marvelous hair!”
She knelt down on one knee and started caressing the folded skin out of which his enormous shaft would surely emerge if she were successful.
I knelt down on the other side and watched her ministrations. She was feeling his testicles with her other hand, cupping her hand under first one and then the other, and then trying to feel the weightiness of both of them at once.
“What big balls!” she oodled.
The pony turned his head and stretched it backward under his belly as if to nibble at her kneading fingers, but otherwise was showing no reaction to her efforts.
“How did he get hard yesterday?” I asked her.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I just walked into the living room, and there it was, coming out.”
“Do you suppose he knows?” I wondered out loud. “Or is it an involuntary action?”
Helen got back on her feet and walked over to the sofa. “I’m going to get down like with Clyde,” she said, kneeling before the sofa and placing her hands up on the cushions. She spread her knees apart and jutted her butt back and upward. “Bring him over,” she requested.
I walked the pony to where her gorgeous bottom was exposed. The lips were swollen and had a purply pink color that showed through the hair. Just the faintest hint of a wet, dark red interior was visible along the line separating them.
I couldn’t resist patting the pert little puffiness that bulged up at me. Her reaction was to wiggle her rear end and groan, thrusting the fat cunny upward some more. The lips opened to reveal more of the engorged tissue inside. It was stunningly moist. How could the pony resist it?
The pony did notice it and mouthed it gently with his lips, breathing heavily on it at the same time.
“Oh, gosh! I wish somebody would do something,” Helen moaned. It struck me as an odd statement.
The pony licked out at the gash, turning its head sideways so that the juicy tongue was aligned vertically with it. The big muscle slopped and pushed as it churned up the flesh. His saliva foamed slightly around his lips, and as he bared his teeth at one point, I was afraid he might try to bite.
Helen had pushed her face down into the sofa cushion. It was bright red and covered with sweat. Her eyes were glazed, and her mouth held loosely open. Her breath was coming out in heavy shuddering sighs.
The pony raised one front hoof and dug at Helen’s back. I could tell by the way she raised her head suddenly that it had hurt, and I ran to the coat closet, bringing back a thick, fluffy car coat. I threw this across her back.
The animal was slowly getting an erection. It came out almost imperceptibly at first and then, like one of those long, thin balloons, filled out fast at the end. The skin stretched very tightly along the length of it when it was fully hard, and the big, blobby knob at the tip seemed enormous.
Again, he raised a hoof at her back. The third time, he succeeded in getting both hooves up and took aim with his organ. I couldn’t believe that huge shaft would positively land on target when he landed, and got down on the floor beside them.
Grabbing the thick, massive stick of meat, I tried by bending and waving to aim it at the precise spot. It took both hands to hold it steady.
Whinnying and pawing at Helen’s back, the animal lunged downward. With an awful glopping noise, the big head poked into the space between the lips, slamming in with tremendous force.
I sprang back quickly, releasing my grip. The entire organ went down like the Titanic, with a rush, filling into the space available to it at an alarming pace.
Helen’s head was pushed into the back of the sofa. She grunted in one long horrible sound that a person being pressed to death might have made. Her face was pushed out of shape where it was against the upholstery.
The big penis finally struck bottom with about four or five inches still to go inside. The pert little bottom I had just been admiring was opened and stretched beyond credibility, the lips clutching at the shaft seeming about to split.
Helen recovered quickly from the initial thrust and pushing up with her hands, regained a tenable position. The huge organ was imbedded deeply inside her, and she seemed determined to brave its next assaults.
The pony began working the staff back and down in a series of short, broadly based thrusts that seemed designed to achieve complete penetration. Something in the animal’s instinct apparatus was telling it everything was not right as long as the merest fraction of an inch remained outside.
He was driving against her, pressing and stretching, his rump weaving to and fro, as the organ dug deeper into her.
For her part, she pushed back against him apparently eager to take as much as he was willing to give. The natural juices began to ooze from around his shaft as it moved back and forth between the completely distended lips of her vulva. It was working out okay.
“Oh, boy!” she finally found the words. “This is the ride of my life.” Her head was raised high, and I noticed she was biting at her lower lip. “This coat is so damned hot,” she muttered.
The pony kept packing it in, deeper and still deeper. I could see that about two inches remained outside. The enormous testicles were already beginning to bump against her thighs. Gradually, those same testicles began to pull up, and the skin around them acquired an increasingly complex network of ridges.
Snorting and blowing, the animal increased the tempo of his thrusts. His forelegs began to slip off Helen’s back on either side, and he allowed his head to hang down, its one side pressed against her ribcage.
His balls had by now been drawn up into his groin completely, and I took this to mean those great agates were about to be emptied of their contents.
Sure enough, the animal made one last thrust of a frenzier nature than the others and let out a deep, satisfying neigh that seemed to originate from deep within him.
The hot come must have been gushing into her then. After the third or fourth spasm, it came babbling out all around his organ and ran down into her pubic hair, some of it trailing off down her thighs, a few blobs dropping off onto the floor.
Most of the action was now due to Helen’s movements as the pony gradually stopped all motion. Helen let out a shriek of pleasure suddenly and collapsed forward on the sofa again. The coat fell down around her head, blocking my view of her face.
The pony made a couple of short deep neighs and backed off. As his organ was withdrawn, the fat head inside momentarily resisted, stretching the lining out like so much taffy. As a rubber band will snap when released, the end popped out finally, letting loose a well spring of come from inside her vagina.
I ran into the bathroom for some Kleenex and hurried back, placing a pile of them under her so at least to protect the sofa from the oozing flow. She was so open I could have thrust in my hand and arm up to the elbow. This, I thought, must be how I looked to Helen the day before.
She was enjoying her reverie, and I chose not to disturb her. Placing the rest of tissues on the sofa, I guided the pony into the kitchen and outside. He was such a gentle, docile beast except when he was screwing.
I thought of so many men I had known who were just the opposite. Gruff, aggressive, loud, even bellicose some of the time, they were just barely adequate in bed.
I heard the shower running upstairs when I came back into the living room and concluded Helen had gone up. There was going to be another wet spot on the carpet today. I went into the kitchen for the necessary cleaning materials.
After brushing out the spot I had cleaned with some paper towels, I sat back on the sofa. Watching the pony have intercourse with Helen had left me high. There had been no release as there seldom is for the voyeur unless he chooses to masturbate.
The lighthearted feeling combined with the blood-engorged tissues in my pelvic region was completely unsatisfying. I looked forward to the evening when we would drive over to John’s house. I would leave it to him to figure out a way for us to be alone.
It irritated me that I had allowed my last thought to enter my brain. I didn’t usually give up on a problem by telling myself some man would solve it for me. That was falling into the trap of female subdominant, which had led to thousands of years of slavery for women.
I had best watch my step with him, I thought, since he was leading me into the valley of temptation that way. I produced a mental picture of him, his easy going way, his willingness to banter or argue as the whim moved me. I also liked the fact that he was something of a loner.
I could live with a guy like that, I concluded.
Business thoughts and returning to New York entered my head. There was one more pony owner to see. I got up and went into my bedroom, taking the little notebook I carried around with me out of my bag.
Thumbing through it, I found the phone number of the man who had bought four ponies from Cunningham. Walking back into the kitchen to the phone, something odd struck me about the number. It occurred to me that I had seen that telephone exchange and exact number somewhere else.
I dialed the number and a very soft-spoken male voice answered. I explained who I was and how I had come by the number and asked his permission to come and see him and take a few pictures of the ponies.
“I only have one pony,” he said softly.
I explained that Cunningham had told me there were four.
“I only have one pony,” he repeated in the same tone.
As he was obviously reticent to expand on the subject, at least over the phone, I dropped it and asked if I could visit him. He seemed willing, in a vague kind of way, and suggested a date about a week hence. I told him that was impossible and explained my schedule.
“All right,” he said flatly. “Come by tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”
He gave me his name as Albert Felt. The address was a rural route box number on a country road. I thought of Cunningham’s description of the place, and it certainly fitted what one might imagine from the address just given me by Felt.
Helen came down in her robe. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, and she was humming gaily.
“Fully recovered?” I asked, winking at her.
“Except I feel pretty well reamed out,” she allowed. “Not sore, though,” she was quick to point out. “Just,” she paused, “what is the word I want?” she asked.
“Enlarged?” I suggested.
She winced.
“How about ‘reshaped’?” I proposed.
“That’s it,” she said. “I just feel reshaped. How about a cup of coffee, Sis?”
“Good idea.”
“I should start dinner,” she informed me, looking at the wall clock. “If we’re all going out tonight, we should eat early.” She fixed some percolated coffee, and we chatted while it perked. I told her about Felt. She would go, she said, but didn’t like to be away from the house so much with Clyde gone.
I suddenly remembered where I had seen Felt’s telephone number before and got up to go into the living room. I found the little slip of paper I had discovered the afternoon before. It was where I had seen it, in the pocket of one of Jack’s coats. There was no mistake. It was Felt’s number.
Coming back into the kitchen I asked Helen, “Have you ever heard Jack mention this fellow Felt?”
“Never,” she said. “Why?”
I told her of what I had accidentally found in the pocket.
“Jack knows an awful lot of people,” she told me. “What does this guy do?”
“I think Cunningham told me he owned a garage,” I said.
“Well, there’s your explanation,” she said. “Jack knows every garage owner in the state of Texas. He sells tires. I don’t think it’s anything strange that he would know this guy Felt.” She looked at me for a minute. “If you want, I can ask him,” she offered.
Something told me I shouldn’t have mentioned the matter to her. “I’d rather you didn’t,” I said. “It was silly of me to bring it up. It’s just a dumb coincidence.”
We sat there waiting for the coffee to be ready. I could tell by Helen’s expression that she thought I was on to something about Jack. Just what that something was, I hesitated to ask even myself.
We arrived at John’s place about eight o’clock. It had been darker than usual that night, and Jack experienced some difficulty negotiating the road up to the house. It turned out to be every bit as winding as John had described it, and I could imagine the road after a heavy rainstorm.
Jack was in high spirits. Helen had promised to return the pony the day after next, but only because Jack had carried on so. Pleased at her acquiescence, he had mixed himself a few highballs after dinner and had become jolly company for us ever since.
John’s house turned out to be more of an oversized cabin than a regular house. As we pulled up, I noticed another car next to John’s pickup.
John met us at the door and we trooped inside en masse. The interior resembled a lodge. We entered first a narrow hallway lined with coat hooks, but this led directly to a huge living room with a fireplace at one end and a balcony all along one side. A small fire burned in the fireplace.
Stereo speakers were placed on each side of the fireplace, which was very wide and made of a white stone of some kind. Music was coming from all sides of the room, however, and I noticed another pair of speakers at the opposite end of the room. The walls were covered with paintings.
A large polished oak bar had been installed near the fireplace just under one end of the balcony. It was heavily carved and looked like it might have been European. There was a man standing behind the bar, leaning on his elbows and swishing a drink in his hands. He was staring right at me with an almost imperceptible smile on his face.
John introduced everybody calmly, and asked what we were drinking. All of the men had either bourbon or Scotch, but Helen as usual asked for a cocktail. I settled for some bourbon on the rocks with a little soda.
The man behind the bar was introduced as Perry Somers, John’s lawyer and drinking partner. The latter designation brought smiles to both of them. He had dropped by unexpectedly, and there was a lot of repartee about where to find a girl for him to round out the party.
Some jokes were made about sharing the girls who were already there, and I was certain that the idea was not entirely a matter of humor to Somers.
John passed out the drinks and we grouped ourselves around the fireplace. He explained that we were hearing quadraphonic, not stereophonic, music being produced because there were four speakers instead of two. The music sounded like early ragtime piano.
As I sat there, I thought of the difference a few years made in terms of a get-together like this, or perhaps it was a matter of geography.
The last gathering I had attended in New York had involved people a good decade younger on the average. There had been no booze, just pot for those who wanted it, very loud rock music, and low, low lights. There wasn’t all the talk about sex as there seemed to be here, but there was plenty of action although none of it was very private.
I wondered what kind of a sex scene was going to evolve out of the five of us. My personal preference was to have John all to myself somewhere for the rest of the evening, but the independent streak in me was telling me maybe that would just lead to unwanted complications.
John was friendly but seemed to be making a point of not appearing possessive with me. I was annoyed that that should bother me, which it obviously did. Somers was acting like he had a clear field with me. It made me wonder what John had gotten to tell him about me before we arrived.
“As a writer,” Somers was telling me, “you must have some opinions about today’s young people.”
“I do,” I said. “I think they are just as you named them. Young people.”
“I detect then a note of disapproval. You feel, perhaps, like many of us, that parents and the nation as a whole have been too permissive?”
“When there is affluence, much leisure time, and a high degree of technology, permissive attitudes are a natural consequence,” I said. “I myself could not, as a woman, be as independent as I am in a poor, struggling society such as exists today in Latin America, for example.”
“I should expect you to express your independence quite agreeably wherever you lived, Miss Starr,” he complimented me.
“Beatrice,” I informed him.
“Ah yes, Beatrice. Bay-at-trichay.” He gave it the Italian pronunciation. “Dante’s distant vision of loveliness, and you are very lovely, Beatrice, too.” He kept his eyes on me as he drank. “And very intelligent as well.”
He was spreading it on thick. I figured then he had me all staked out for the bedroom. I glanced at John. He was taking it all in from across the room, all smiles. I pretended complete bemusement.
“You feel then, Bea, your independence, or your freedom, whatever you want to call it, exists only because men have permitted it?”
“In a patriarchal society, such as we have, it could not be otherwise,” I said.
“I think you must hate us men very much,” he imagined. “Tell me then, Bea. I’m calling you Bea, I hope you don’t mind. Tell me that you don’t hate me. I should feel terrible if you said otherwise.”
“Why don’t you fix me another drink?” I asked, tiring of his game.
“By all means, Bea,” he replied, getting up and going over to the bar.
John was sitting in between Jack and Helen and came over when he saw Somers head for the bar.
“What do you think of the old family retainer?” he asked me.
“Who is he retaining tonight?” I wanted to know.
“Are you interested?” he asked, pretending surprise. “I’ll relay the message, that is, if you haven’t already. But Perry’s a little dense that way.”
“He’s only dense when it comes to saying ‘no’,” I informed him.
Somers returned with two drinks. “Here you are, Bea.” He sat down across from us. “Your little friend is quite charming, Johnny. It’s a pity you can’t tie her up or something. New York’s such a dreadful place.” He sipped his new drink carefully.
“Maybe a lot of people might think the same of Dallas,” I said to him, a bit ruffled.
“Perhaps. But you never hear it,” he said. “And you always hear it about New York.”
I refused to be baited into defending the place I had chosen to live in, particularly when I wasn’t sure why he was hoping I would lose my temper. He probably hoped to work the old ploy of women being unstable, emotional and the like.
He could then say to John, “See, your free-flying little bird is just like all the rest. Clip her wings and she’ll keep house for you.”
“How long have you lived here?” I asked John.
“About six months, Bea. How do you like it?” he asked.
“It’s cozy,” I said, “and isolated. It’s such a funny place to live in all by yourself.”
“Haven’t you told her, Johnny?” Somers interrupted.
“Told me what?” I looked startled.
“It isn’t perhaps that important, Perry,” John said. “Bea wants no involvements.”
Somers laughed out loud at that. “You naive boy,” he almost choked. “At, what is it, forty-one? Two? There hasn’t been a woman born, Johnny, who doesn’t want that ball and chain welded on. This lovely girl is no exception.”
I hated to see John let himself become embarrassed but his friend had succeeded.
“Perry is very opinionated, Bea. He also is not going to be satisfied until he can find that chink in your armor where he can dig the old knife in. Don’t let him find it,” John said.
“Bravo, Johnny!” Somers roared.
“Forewarned is forearmed, Bea. My terrible secret is out.”
“What is it that he meant before, John?” I asked, my curiosity still aroused.
“This house was built for me and my future wife, Bea,” he said. “We were to have been married last June, but Pat’s mother in Los Angeles developed terminal cancer, and we put things off until January.”
“You mean you’re engaged, is that it?” I asked.
He nodded.
I couldn’t help but laugh. I don’t know what I had expected him to say, but the news of his engagement was anticlimactic. Somers was examining my face for the faintest sign of disappointment.
“Ten to one, Johnny,” Somers said, “Ten to one, she starts acting differently with you.”
“I’ll get in on that bet, too,” I said. “There may be a lot of angles here you haven’t even thought of, Mister Attorney.” I said it and wasn’t even sure myself what I meant by it. It had an effect on him.
“What’s happening over here?” Helen interrupted.
Somers was looking at me and thinking.
“What do you say we get more comfortable?” John suggested. “Bea, I’ll show you the rest of the house.” He walked over to the wall and turned a switch, dimming the lights in the room to a very low level. “Come on,” be said.
I got up and followed John to a stairway leading up to the balcony. We walked up together, arm in arm. When we reached the top, he took me in his arms and kissed me. All I could think of was Somers down below, watching my every move.
“Your mind’s not on your work,” John informed me.
“Your friend. How does Pat get along with him?” I asked.
“Hate each other’s guts, naturally,” John informed me.
“Seriously,” I urged.
“Well, actually, he thinks Pat would make a good wife for me, like he thinks of a wife, a housekeeper, mother, mistress combination thing. But in reality I don’t think he wants me to get married at all. We’ve been bachelors all our lives, and he sees no reason to change.”
We walked slowly down a corridor to a large bedroom.
“This is the master bedroom,” he said, turning up a dimmer switch. Several colorful paintings on the walls attracted my attention.
“Who did all these wonderful paintings?” I asked.
“You’re looking at him.”
“John, you’re an artist!” I exclaimed, amazed I hadn’t found it out sooner. “You must think me awfully uninterested in you.” It had not even occurred to me before to ask him what he did.
He seemed embarrassed. “Some of these are Pat’s.”
“Those downstairs, are they all yours?” I asked.
He nodded.
I shut the door and walked over to the bed, unbuttoning my blouse. I sat down on the bed to remove my shoes.
“You’re not bothered, knowing this belongs to someone else?” he inquired.
“I said no strings. How could I be bothered?” I lied. I was down to my bra and panties when he came over and sat down beside me.
“I had hoped downstairs, after you had found out, that it might make a difference,” he revealed.
He was showing me a side of him I didn’t like. He was sincere in letting me know he cared, but I felt it was unfair under the circumstances.
I cared about him, too, but I wasn’t sure how much. I was certain, though, that if I admitted to caring, the very act of admission and its results were likely to be out of all proportion to the game.
“Let’s just make love,” I said, lying down on the bed.
He got up to dim the lights and began undressing very slowly and quietly. I could hear the voice of Somers downstairs talking very loudly, followed by Helen’s laughter.
Lying naked on the large bed I was conscious for the first time in ages of being outside my body. I was standing beside the bed looking down at my nakedness, only it wasn’t me looking but somebody that had part of me forever inside him, and that part made it be me.
And it wasn’t me lying on the bed, but somebody that had a part of me forever inside her, and that part of it made it be me.
John climbed up on the bed. In the dim light I saw his erection bobbing between his legs and I wondered what part of me he was going to touch first. I felt his fingers close over one knee, linger a moment, and then move forward caressing my hip.
He moved his knees in close, and I felt the hair on his legs brush against my thighs. As he moved forward the hardness of his body enveloped me and brought tears to my eyes. Closing my eyes tightly, I fought them back and reached up around him with my arms.
I opened my legs for him to enter as he must, for what other way is there? The rigid penis with the bulging head so hard and yet so soft, a velvet cushion perched on the end of a steel rod, punched lightly at my vulva.
My vagina was drier than usual, and the fat organ did not immediately penetrate. It pushed in very slowly, the want of lubrication giving me the impression his prick was much bigger than it was. I could feel the pressure of entry tugging at the skin as the shaft moved relentlessly forward.
“Oh, John,” I whispered.
The feeling of tightness persisted even after he was in and began pumping the organ back and forth. The juices started flowing then, generously covering his rod, and the tugging ceased. He drove deeper and deeper, determined to make his penetration of me a part of his life and my life together.
I could feel his heaving chest as it expanded against my breasts, the hard ribs of him against the soft flesh of me. He was kissing the tears off my face and then kissing the source of those tears. He was able to do that.
I was letting myself go with him, not holding back, and it brought me to climax quickly. The churning of the stiff male instrument deep within me soon brought little pulses of pleasureful feeling at the end of each downstroke, each one greater than the one before. They began to build to such intensity that I was hurting for release. And I needed release. I needed it and wanted it that moment more than I ever had.
I clutched him to me as the exploding pleasure suddenly spread throughout my system, filling every nerve and every capillary. It spread like morphine through a dope-starved addict’s body, reaching out to toe and fingertip alike, bringing peace and love and happiness.
And while I lay there filled with ecstasy, he came inside me, filling me with the hot butter from his balls, pumping shot after shot of the sperm that had been his, which he now willingly, gladly gave to me in quick, hard spurts.
We lay in each other’s arms for a long time, sleeping the sleep of two who had seized a moment without reservations, without guilt, and had won.
I awoke after dreaming dreams that left my memory on awakening. Dreams that left only sadness at having forgotten the Eden I must have been dreaming about.
I felt the bed for John and he was no longer on it. Where had he gone? Perhaps he was still in the room. I called his name softly and got no reply. I noticed the lights had been turned all the way off.
“John!” I called, more loudly.
“How about John’s alter ego?” a voice I recognized at once declared.
My first thought was, Why did John let this happen? My second was irritation at the first. I was independent, wasn’t I? John was not my lord protector, nor did I want him to be.
“Methinks the lady’s silence doth protest too much,” Somers said.
“What in hell are you doing in here?” I asked, controlled fury in my tone. “Get out!”
“Melodrama from the lady. Get out at once, you cad, you scoundrel!” he declared in mock theatrical tones.
I peered through the darkness of the room. He was somewhere over near the door. A likely place, I thought. Cut me off if I made a run for it.
“Somers,” I began, “You wanted me to tell you that I didn’t hate you tonight. Now it’s my turn to ask why you dislike me so much.”
The voice moved over nearer the bed. “I don’t dislike you, Beatrice. I’m afraid of you. There is something in you that threatens me.”
He was talking like a crazy person. “You’ve seen too many horror movies,” I said. “Get out of here!” It was hard to take him seriously, talking nonsense like that.
Suddenly the lights came on full blast. I saw him then, about midway between the door and the bed. He was standing stark naked with an erect penis tilting off at an angle. It was somewhat short but fat. He seemed to enjoy his exhibition of it.
I got up off the bed like a shot and started hunting for my clothes. Someone had taken them from the floor where I had dropped them.
“Clothes are useless commodities, aren’t they?” he said. “Especially when there is lovemaking to be enjoyed.”
“Enjoyed?” I asked. I had folded my arms over my breasts. I sat down finally on the bed and pulled the quilt over my body, turning away from him entirely. “Maybe if I pretend you’re not there, you’ll go away.”
He walked over very close to me, holding his erection forward.
“I don’t expect you to give me the full treatment, Bea. I already know you want to get married, so no amount of convincing me how much you really love John, as you probably just did with him, would change my notion that marriage is all you are after. What is it you really want in bed?” he insisted.
“You’re a sick man, Mr. Somers. You have some hang-up about women that’s made you sick,” I said, feeling myself starting to come unglued.
“You wouldn’t be any good for John. If he has to have a wife, the one he’s got is more suited to his personality. Your independent ways would destroy his talent in no time. Why, just keeping track of your comings and goings would be a full-time job,” he kept bringing his penis closer and closer.
“What is it you want me to do? I’m leaving here in a day or two. John knows that. As far as I know, I’ll never see him again.” I was beginning to shake.
“The hysterical woman! Spare me, please.” He brought his penis within inches of my face. “Here,” he said, indicating his stiff organ. “Take this. It’s the best medicine in the world for little girls who have lost their way.”
He wanted me to suck his cock. It was a symbolic act of some kind. It would prove in his mind that I was inferior.
It wouldn’t work, I thought. It wouldn’t work because for one thing, I didn’t believe it. It takes two people to make a religion. I was determined to turn the tables on him.
I jumped up suddenly. “Lie down on the bed,” I commanded. He appeared stunned, too stunned to disobey. I got on top of him in the sixty-nine position, making sure my pussy was full into his face. He began to protest, but I ignored him.
He was not a strong man or he might have been able to throw me off. As it was I had a devil of a time staying on top of him that way. I sat with my muff full on his head.
His erection had fallen off slightly. I picked it up and, holding it by the base, stuck it into my mouth. I sucked hard on it, stretching it out and rolling my tongue down around and along it. It stiffened back up pretty fast.
He must have been standing there in the dark with his erection for a long time, because there was a lot of pre-seminal fluid in the organ. The sweet, nut-like taste of it was unmistakable in my mouth.
His erection restored, I began blowing him in earnest, rising and failing with my head in a steady rhythm, salivating copiously and sucking at the same time.
It was a short cock, but fit well inside my mouth. I could close down on the base with my lips without any feeling of gagging. On the other hand, it was quite fat, and distended the lips considerably.
His balls hung loosely in a rather flabby looking scrotum. My nose kept poking into the sac as I went down. As I was working, I noticed the skin on the sac begin to convolute as the testicles began to rise.
So far he had not made any attempt to perform cunnilingus on me, and I gave up hoping.
I began to pick up the rhythm of my rising and failing head as his testicles pulled up tighter and tighter. The sac had lost its flabbiness and actually became a tight little pouch under his penis. It began to turn a dark purple red.
As things fast approached a climax, he began to move instinctively in rhythm with my movements. His pelvis made thrusts upward as I drove downward with my mouth.
The scrotum pulled up further and became one fat, tight ball. As it almost disappeared into his groin, I felt the head of his cock swell suddenly inside my mouth. Instantaneously the first squirt of hot come jetted deep down into my throat, I gulped instinctively.
The organ pumped out more in successive spurts. I sucked hard and kept swallowing in deep gulps trying to keep up with the load. I didn’t hold back on any of it. When I had swallowed the last drop, I let go of it and collapsed, gasping, my mouth tingling and my throat on fire from the hot sperm.
During the hot flush of swallowing the load I had failed to feel my partner’s activity down below. He was muffing me rather crudely without any plan or apparent knowledge of what he was about, but he was trying.
“My dearest Bea,” he said, “does that feel good?”
He wasn’t going to get me off the way he was kissing me, but it wasn’t unpleasant. I especially enjoyed the fact that he was down there after all.
“Fine,” I said.
For a lawyer, he made a lousy face man.
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