Chris listened apprehensively to the key turning in the lock, waiting for her roommate to step through the door. They’d have to discuss their money tragedy, Chris knew, and this might be the last free moment of Sandy’s man-hungry day before the telephone started ringing and the doorbell buzzing.
“Hi, ya!” beamed Sandy, closing the door behind her handing Chris her mail. “Here… look.” She thrust an official looking envelope in Chris’ hands. “Food-stamps. First of the month. What do you say we buy a couple of Porterhouse steaks and celebrate? God, it seems like an eternity since we’ve had a real meal,” she complained, collapsing on the faded velour couch with a squeak of the protesting springs. “Mine came too, only I got them for a whole family.”
“What? But Sandy, you don’t have a family. How did you get $128 worth?” She waved the envelope accusingly in the air, one hand on her levied hip.
The black-headed girl shrugged casually. “Simple, I just told them I had a husband home sick, and this neat looking guy told me to follow him and fill out the forms.” She pulled open her shoulderbag, and, searching for her pack of cigarettes, found them and tore open the top and shook out two, one for each of them.
Chris hissed through clenched teeth. “Damn it, Sandy. That’s fraud! Don’t you read the newspapers?” she blurted heatedly. “They’re cleaning house down at the welfare department. Anybody who’s caught telling lies to get foodstamps is up for fraud, and that’s a federal offense.”
Sandy tutted. “Oh, don’t be silly Chris. How is anybody going to find out I don’t have a husband and two kids? Why don’t you look at the bright side?” The green eyed girl spread her hands and shrugged. “We’re getting $128 worth of free food and you’re complaining? It was easy: I borrowed somebody’s kids in exchange for a joint. No big deal.” Her long lithe arm reached over to the end table and long red fingertips clutched the match book.
Chris’ platform shoes made clunking sounds as she nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Oh swell. Just don’t call me up when the authorities start looking for you!” They were riding the red line of poverty, and it was wearing on both girl’s patience.
Sandy stood up on one foot to light Chris’ cigarette off of her own smoldering one, then handed it to her grateful roommate. That last cigarette butt just hadn’t cut it.
“And what about the rent?” Chris blinked as the pungent smoke attacked her eyes with the first heavy draw on the virgin cigarette. “Any idea how we’re going to pay that? God, do you have any idea of how much we owe Roger as of tomorrow?” She counted it out on her fingers, letting her lit cigarette dangle unfemininely from her lips. “$140 for last month and the same for this month. That’s $280 we have no way of earning.”
Sandy’s green eyes fastened on her roommate, and blinked in downcast acquiesence. Chris was right, there was no way to avoid that horrifying truth. Yes, they were in trouble and it was mostly her fault. But why couldn’t Chris understand that was why she’d gone to the welfare office and lied to the social worker. The dark haired girl drew in her breath with a desperate gasp. The Aid to Dependent Children form she’d filled out this morning was a lie too! What if Chris were right? What if she did get caught for welfare fraud! Oh, Jesus! But at the time, she thought defensively, she was certain she was doing the right thing. And everybody did it; it was no big thing. California the welfare state and all that jive…
“Listen,” gestured Sandy with the palm of her hand. “I’ll talk to Roger myself. I know that creep who ripped off your money was my responsibility. I’m in the wrong… as usual,” the emotional girl said for the thousandth time in her life, “and I’ll go down to talk to Roger. Okay?”
Chris, seeing the distraught look in her roommate’s eyes, felt instantly repentant for her emotional outburst and accusations, though most of them remained unspoken. “I’m sorry, Sandy,” sighed Chris, sinking to her knees and grabbing her friend’s hand in hers. “I don’t mean to sound like such a bitch. It’s just that I’m really disappointed in everything that’s happened to us since we’ve been in San Francisco. No job, no money, no chance to go out and explore… and no dates… well you’ve had no problems in that department, but I’m not as outgoing as you are,” she admitted with a wince. “I don’t mean to get so uptight.”
Sandy stroked her friend’s hair with sisterly affection. “That’s okay, Chris. I understand. But I hope it won’t hurt your feelings if I tell you that since you and Mark broke up last spring you’ve been really uptight. I know what you need,” grinned Sandy with a knowing smirk. She nodded her head for emphasis. “Yeah, that’s the problem,” she giggled giving her friend’s head a loving pat.
Chris stared up into her roommate’s twinkling, devilishly green eyes. The truth was written there by the hand of experience. If anyone should know the merits of a healthy sex life, it was Sandy — unattestably Sandy.
“Hey, friend,” soothed Sandy. “Why don’t you go in and take a good hot bath. I just brought some vanilla scented bubble bath from this neat store that sells nothing but organic products.” She tutted with self-recrimination. “I know I shouldn’t have spent the money,” she admitted, rolling her eyes in her flirtatious manner, and sticking out her pouty lower lip like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and trying to lie his way out of it. “But the clerk told me it had the correct PH balance and all that… well, I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, take a hot bath, calm down and sprinkle some of that vanilla bubble bath in. It smells so sexy!”
“Sounds good to me,” smiled Chris heading for the bathroom, wondering how Sandy could con her into anything, marveling at her magic touch.
With Sandy’s giggle still ringing in her ears, Chris turned on the radio and sauntered toward the bathroom and pulled off her tee shirt and Levi’s, leaving her bikini and bra on long enough to dart to her bedroom and pull a fresh towel from her bureau drawer.
Later, as the blonde haired girl prepared to step into the warm, sudsy bath water she had drawn, her reflection in the cracked mirror caught her eye. On the whole she was satisfied with what she saw. She was not as full breasted as her teasingly voluptuous roommate, but her breasts were firm and round. Testing the bathwater with her toe, she unsnapped her bra and pulled it from her arms, then pulled down and kicked off her panties.
Chris stared into the mirror again, this time running her hands over her satin-smooth skin, and bringing up both palms to cup the rounded swells of her lushly ripening young breasts, rolling the erectile nipples between her fingers until they were distended and the areolas puckered up around them, the warm flush of tumescence spreading through her — the feeling of need, of desire, of sexuality. She turned for a profile view. Maybe Sandy was right: what she needed was a good long roll in the hay.
If only Mark were here, she thought temptingly, stepping into the tepid bath tub and sighing as the warm water lapped at her worried body. Yes, Mark, she ah-ah-ed, slipping down in the tub ‘til her blonde hair floated on the vanilla bubbles. Mark had been her steady date through most of her sophomore year in college and into her third year, too. It had been mostly for companionship that they spent time together studying and going to football games; suddenly, and without their even knowing, their innocent infatuation filled with hand-holding and necking, gave way to desperately passionate sessions in Chris’ apartment. Chris’ resistance weakened further every time until finally there had come the inevitable loss of her virginity.
Being a virgin wasn’t something she had particularly relished, not a life-creed to be carried around on a signboard, just something that seemed right for her. The voluptuous blonde had never really made any plans about keeping her virginity, or about losing it, for that matter. But when it happened, it just happened. It was something she regretted now, not only because her parents had come for that God-awful surprise visit the next day, but because she hadn’t anything… or anybody… to show for it now.
The blonde, relishing in the feminine feel of the suds remembered that night, that awful regrettable night. As if to scatter those thoughts to the wind, she dipped her hand into the suds and blew a stream of bubbles into the moist air watching them as they popped and dissipated like time itself.
Mark. A perfect gentleman… most of the time, mused Chris now, feeling sexy and feminine mummified in the vanilla bubbles. She remembered, too, the Hawaiian sarong she had worn to the springtime fraternity party, how daring she felt knowing one pull on that rope belt and her breasts would come tumbling free. She’d felt devilishly sinful that night, it may have been the full moon, she later thought. But the boilermakers — the virgin’s lethal drink made of tasteless wood alcohol and Hawaiian punch — had a lot to do with it! It had tasted so good she’d had a glass, though she seldom drank… then another, and another.
After the dance he’d driven her home and carried her to the door. Apparently Sandy had let him in, but she could hardly blame her roommate for that; Mark had spent many nights in their apartment when he didn’t feel like going back to his fraternity house room which he shared with a frat brother. Mark had slung the door open with his shoulder and lay the lush half-conscious body out on the soft mattress.
“Oh,” she’d mumbled thickly, stirring uneasily in her alcohol-sodden slumber. “Have I been asleep? Mark, I’m so drunk!”
“That’s okay,” the broad shouldered fraternity boy replied soothingly, not wanting her to regain full consciousness just yet. It had been an age old tradition in the fraternity; if you can’t get your girl to make it with you after the Hawaiian dance, all bets were off you ever would. Besides, he’d had a bet riding on it. “You’ll feel fine in the morning,” he reassured.
Chris couldn’t help but giggle drunkenly at the thought of Mark playing nurse to her. But his thick strong fingers proved agile enough as he pulled on the rope belt that held that single piece of fabric snug to her lithe body, and slid the garment gently over her head, revealing most of her supple tempting young bodily curves to his avidly searching eyes.
Suddenly, Mark had become a man possessed, a maniac driven only by his intense animal lust for her body. Nothing else mattered to him that instant but fucking his long, painfully hard cock into that warm hair-lined pussy no man had ever touched, that damply glistening cleft he’d hungered for so long. She was a woman to him now, a desirable young woman to be taken, a virgin born for his sacrifice.
He reached for her, grabbing her roughly before she had time to react, before she could even cry out in surprise, a deep beast-like groan erupting from his throat as he pulled her roughly in prone position on the bed.
“Please, Mark, please… we can’t… w-we can’t!” she moaned piteously as he held her down with one lust-strengthened hand and ran the other greedily over the lush contours of her nakedly struggling body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts cruelly with hands now beyond his control, hands that acted as if they were possessed with a spirit beyond his own. Pinkish ridges of her softly delicate flesh protruded between his straining fingers as his head had dropped to the budding young nipples and chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt the tenderly resilient flesh give way and the salty taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.
“Oh, no, not like this. It can’t be like this!” she moaned, more in anguish than in anger. But her plea was unheeded.
In his madness, he still held her wildly straining body tightly to the bed, imprisoning her there by he heavy tensed chest that weighed upon her lithe slenderness like a giant crushing boulder. Her long blonde hair began thrashing from side to side on the bed, her beautiful face contorted with anguish. She pleaded until the words become nothing but incoherent mutterings of jumbled words.
And it was then that he brutally fucked her the first time, robbed her of her virginity in a frenzy of jungle passion gone wild.
Ignoring the low moaning pleas, Mark rolled on top of the violently struggling coed, catching her body just as her long, slimly tapered legs had scissored out in one last desperate effort to escape his brutal assault. His hips had fallen down tightly against the mattress. The soft down of her thinly curling pubic hair brushed teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to insane mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.
She felt the anguish of that night even now as she recalled it so clearly, like slow-motion frames from an old movie as it flashed in her brain. His knees were spreading hers wide apart, and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her squirmingly defenseless crotch, completely naked and vulnerable then to his rapacious assault. She felt once again the spasmodic jerkings of her own fleshy inner thighs as he drove his hand between them. Mark was searching for that elusive treasure, that jewel-like never-before-penetrated orifice between her wildly trembling legs. And then he found it! He jammed his heatedly throbbing cock up between her widespread legs, following the guide of his hand in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, and then shoved his blood-filled prick’s head between her fleshy cuntal lips with a groan, he brutally thrust it all the way forward without hesitation up into her quivering pussy, deflowering her like a kidnapped Sabine maiden prostrate before her barbarian captor. Chris shrieked in agony and kicked her legs out wildly in the air in a futile attempt to escape the cruel impalement. Her frantic movement only worsened her plight, however, opening the depths of her unplowed furrow to his plundering cock as it hotly rammed deeper and deeper into her yielding cuntal flesh. At last, his pelvis smacked down hard against hers, signaling the hoped-for end of her agony as his rigidly beating cock slid all the way up inside her trembling belly, the warm wet bloody walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around the fleshy hardness like a moist warm glove.
But the aroused fraternity boy hadn’t stopped there. He didn’t even give Chris a chance to adjust to the sudden unexpected presence deep in her virginal young womb. He just began to fuck her, thrusting in and out of her like a mongrel dog mounting a bitch in heat, and with about that much concern for her enjoyment and happiness. He had only thought of one thing — to spew his hot, thick sperm deep inside of her tight little pussy where it belonged and where he had yearned to empty it for so long now. He vented his lust against her torturedly groaning body time after time, flooding her cringing belly again and again with the hot white liquid of over a year’s frustrated waiting and hoping until finally… his cum was gone.
And this was the boy she’d been thinking of marrying! Chris had awakened in the night, sobbing from a nightmare she was not convinced was real until she saw the blood smeared evidence on her inner thighs.
Worst of all, her parents had chosen that next day to come visit her! She’d been too ashamed to crawl out of that bed to and greet them. And Mark, damn him! He laughed through the afternoon thinking it extremely funny while she sobbed into her pillow.
That was the last she saw of him.
*****
Chris pulled the belt to her fleecy robe tight around her still damp body and wrapping a towel around her sopping, freshly shampooed hair, emerged from the bathroom to find the landlord pacing back and forth in the living room a letter in one hand, a cigarette in the other. On the sofa sat Sandy, pale-faced and saucer-eyed, taking inhumanely long drags off her cigarette and exhaling with exhausting force. The blue smoky aura around her dark hair testified to the lengthy encounter between the renter and rentee. A tale of woe for poverty-stricken victims of America’s unemployed. Chris heard nothing above the low roar of the top 40 rock station except for the words “welfare fraud” and “eviction”. Fear froze her to the floor, her two feet two ice cubes melted to the tray. She clenched her jaws tight. Damn!
Roger stood straight and tall, his body abuzz with the excitement of facing a challenge most men would have cringed at. Roger could not remember when he had come up with the idea; probably it wasn’t the sort of plan that was conceived all at once, but rather the result of several years as being a landlord and listening to half-hearted excuses and rationalizations for late rent and middle-of-the-night moves. He did remember the night he was woken up at two o’clock in the morning and, suspecting one of his tenant’s of beating up his girl friend, broke in with his master key in time to see her flailing her hair back and forth on a love-crumpled bed while an embarrassed middle-aged man fucked in and out of her buttocks. In the kitchen the tenant sat smoking marijuana and drinking beer, keeping a close eye on the kitchen clock. A dollar a minute counts up-fast! Damn! Roger had thought at the time, I’m going through hell trying to collect the rent, and these bastards make twice that much in one night. Why not cash in on a piece of the action? he’d asked himself numerous times.
Hell, at that rate he could quit driving a cab and stay at home to make money. Legitimate money took time, especially with taxes and insurance — all the crap that drains your pocket for no reason but to keep the money flowing.
The first step had been to con two Mexican girls — lovely pieces of ass they were — into chaperoning a couple of businessmen Roger had taxied to Broadway Street where they wanted a quick floor show and blow job, something their wives wouldn’t put out for. One phone call to the girls and snap! Fifty bucks in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: fifty bucks in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: the businessmen got laid, the girls got twenty-five dollars each, and Roger the other half.
With Margaret Sorenson it had been a case of coincidence, too, he rationalized to himself. Boy, she’d been crying her heart out for a man since old Sandor was blown to bits by that accident. She’d come pounding on Roger’s door every day spilling out her woes, making promises for paying the rent… even offering to clean his place! How could a bachelor refuse an offer like that? Finding out about her inheritance… well, that hadn’t been quite as accidental. He’d never thought he’d resort to steaming open mail, but it proved worthwhile. Old Margaret was sitting on a Goddamned nest-egg, just crying for somebody to share it with. Couple more months and he might be a married man.
But these two girls. Whow! They were in hot water up to their pretty virgin asses. Welfare fraud, he tutted to himself, pivoting to see the blonde haired girl staring wild-eyed behind him.
“Come sit down, Chris,” he motioned toward the sofa. “I’ve got something here you had better know about.” His brown paw waved an official looking letter in the air, gesturing for her to sit next to her roommate.
The roommate’s eyes locked for a terrified second and, feeling the burden of the guilt, Sandy winced, wrinkling up her perky nose and, as if to beg pardon, shook out a cigarette and handed it to her solemn-faced roommate whose every blink of the eye was a righteously wielded accusation of irresponsibility.
Roger, studying the nipples spiking out from the blonde girl’s robe, smiled appreciatively in a tight smirk. Yes, she would sell well, he thought to himself, waiting for his audience to snap alert under his threatening gaze. “To fill you in on the facts, Chris, this is a letter from the social service department of San Francisco… I assume you know who they are since you’ve been getting foodstamps for the past month.”
Chris nodded her turbaned head.
“As landlord I was mailed this letter to ask a few questions about your living situation. According to this xeroxed form, Sandra… that’s you,” he blinked his chocolate eyes at the dark haired girl who cowered in the sofa, one leg hugged up to her chest, her dimpled chin resting on her knee, “... are supposed to be married to a Christopher O’Brien and supporting two children.” He flung the letter to the side table and feigning a glare, thrust his hands in his pockets and resumed his pacing.
Silence fell on the room, broken only by the dull crackle of a radio that hummed out Bob Dylan’s “Dear Landlord… put a price on my soul”. Sandy stifled an irresponsible giggle; it was almost funny in a desperate sort of way, but Chris’ elbow in her ribs put a somber look back on her pixie face.
“So… what do we do about it?” Sandy pouted, sighed and tutted. “Okay,” she said in a monotone voice, “... so I lied. Now what are you going to do about it? Have me locked up? Call my family? Good luck if you do.”
Roger drew in a deep breath and rested his finger on his lower lip. “If I wanted to get nasty about it, I could do just that. Welfare fraud is becoming one of the most common crimes in this city, and the taxpayers are Goddamned sick of it… especially since all these young people are coming out here to the West Coast without jobs and sucking up all the welfare so the people who really need it go hungry. Papers are full of cases.”
Chris wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa, fearing the worst. One glance at Roger and she knew he wasn’t going to give them a break.
“Then there’s the matter of your rent being overdue,” his brown intense eyes snapped wider like shutters on springs. “Two months now and you girls haven’t paid me a dime. Legally I could have you out of here in thirty days…”
Chris was the first to break. She rested her head in her hands and sobbed three times before regaining her composure. Today had been an emotional nightmare, saying nothing about financial. An apologetic feminine hand stroked her arm as she squeezed out the last tear.
“Oh damn,” sighed Roger, gleaming over his success. Shit! He had them now. Get a woman in tears and she loses all rationale. Now was the time to snap it to them; they’d be putty in his hands, their will broken, ready to be molded to his wishes. “... I didn’t mean to make you cry, but this is a serious matter. Christ, I can’t count the number of young girls who’ve lived in this building — just out of school, away from home for the first time, thinking they’ll come out to old SF and teach the world tricks.” He shook his head negatively. “Life ain’t that way, girls. It ain’t that simple.”
“But… but we’ve tried looking for work. Honest we have!” Chris’ ivory white forehead was wrinkled with a solemn plea for mercy. “We’ve spent all the money we had on bus fare and God, I even sacrificed my last dollar for a pair of stockings to go to a crummy interview — and I didn’t even want the job!” She looked pleadingly into Sandy’s tear-blurred eyes. Sandy nodded in acquiescence.
“Really,” she moaned in her flirtatiously childish manner, the expression on her face one of a hungry orphan begging for a bowl of rice. “It’s not that we haven’t tried or don’t have any brains. God, we both graduated from college and… and I speak Spanish and Chris speaks French.” She shrugged her shoulders and spread her hands entreatingly.
“Spanish, you say?” Ah, ha, mused Roger silently, stroking his full mustache with glee. This was the opener. “French?”
The girls nodded simultaneously.
“Hmmm… I might be able to help you… that is, if you really want a job.” He continued pacing, one hand thrust into his polyester suit pants, the other still working on his mustache, while his brown eyes clicked off the dollar signs. The surreptitious landlord glanced over at the rentees to see them sitting up straight, ready to take orders. “Naw. You girls went to college huh? What were your majors?” His eyes sparkled as they probed every inch of feminine flesh… two hundred a nights worth.
“I majored in art with a double major in French, and Sandy majored in modern dance and speaks Spanish… she’s part Spanish, you know,” the spokesman assured.
“You girls ever worked in crowds of people? I mean have you ever been hostesses or tour guides?”
“No,” answered Sandy, somewhat disconcertedly.
“But we can try!” Chris blurted.
“I… I don’t know…” Roger made a turn at the mantle and rested his elbow on the chipped paint and stroked his neck with that hand. “You’d have to spend time around men… many of them foreigners.” He smacked his lips and shook his head. “Maybe you’d be better off trying the lunch counters down town…”
“No, wait a minute! Tell us more about this job,” implored Chris, sitting on the edge of the sofa now, ablaze with interest, desperate for a break. The prospect of going back to Detroit was about as appealing as making love to an elephant.
“Okay,” Roger confronted them in his military stance, arms behind his back, legs spread. “I have some friends who own a tour guide business downtown… old buddies of mine from the army. They make contact with the bus guide tours and instead of sending everybody out in buses they take them out sometimes singly, sometime in pairs. What they need is somebody to chaperone the guys, somebody who can speak Spanish or French… adds a little class, you know.”
Sandy’s eyes sparkled. It was a dream come true, but Chris looked puzzled, her face still mirroring her concern over the money and the way her landlord kept stealing peeks down the gaping front of her bathrobe. She yanked it shut tight.
“So what do we have to do?”
“Simple. You go out to dinner with the guys… there will be wives along sometimes,” he admitted with a sly smirk. “You impress the guy by ordering in another language… that’s always worth a tip, especially from businessmen who are out to impress some client… then you hop a cable car and take ‘em to the wharf maybe… out for a couple of drinks, tell ‘em about the landmarks of the city — how Golden Gate Park used to be a sand pit, and everything east of Market Street is landfill… you know. Little bits like that. Mostly you just play nice to ‘em and they treat you well.”
“I don’t know,” said Chris, biting on her lower lip nervously. “Sounds kinda fishy to me… almost like… like, well, you know.” She turned to read the expression on her roommate’s face. “What do you think, Sandy?”
Marvel-eyed, Sandy shot a beaming grin at the landlord. “I think it’s great! When do we start and how much money will we make? I’ll have to get my clothes together for this!”
Roger looked a little perplexed, but at the same time he was relieved. He knew if he could persuade Chris, he’d have it sacked, but she was the cautious one, he noted. “What about you, Chris. How do you feel about it? I know it’s not what you expected to do with a college diploma, but it’s the best I can offer. Besides, the foreign tourists in San Francisco have a lot of class.” He studied her unmoved expression. “Well, I know you’d rather sit in an office for eight hours a day, but…”
“Let me think about it,” broke in the blonde haired roommate. “I want to think this over.”
Sandy wrinkled up her nose and tugged Chris’ bathrobe sleeve, her eyes on Roger as she whispered into Chris’ ear: “Come on, it’s no big thing. We’d at least be able to eat and get out to see the city.” Pulling her bathrobe tight around her, and letting the bath towel unwind with a vigorous shake of her head, Chris stalked off to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It seemed cheap somehow, going out with a man you’d never seen before. Why, it was the closest thing to prostitution she’d ever imagined herself coming in contact with. She closed her bedroom door behind her.
One room away, Chris could hear Sandy’s throaty voice apologizing for her roommate’s abrupt response. “Don’t pay any attention to her, she’s just very upset today,” she heard Sandy explain.
Roger returned: “Okay, you girls think it over and come down to my apartment tonight and tell me what you want to do. Remember, I still have two months rent to collect and this letter from the foodstamp office is nothing to scoff at. It’s serious business… could cost you both a lot of money and time behind bars if you’re not careful. I’m just trying to help you out, is all. I’ve got my responsibilities too.”
Sandy caught his arm before he reached out to open the door. “Just one thing,” she said hesitantly. “Does this mean we have to go to bed with the men?” Her eyes sparkled and the landlord read the message loud and clear.
Dropping his hand to the doorknob he rested it there and said, “If you do, it’ll earn you a bunch more, that’s all I can tell you.”
When he left, closing the door behind him, Sandy leaned up against the hardwood door, her eyes smiling for her. No use giving away what you can charge for, she resolved and headed for Chris’ bedroom for a long, practical talk with her best friend of four years.
*****
Roger’s apartment was on the second floor in the back where his living room window overlooked a small rose garden in the middle of the concrete stone maze of apartment buildings and garages. It was the only apartment with such a view, blessed in its solitudinous location and free of traffic noise. Best of all, it had an exceptionally large living room, good for entertaining and business combined.
Tonight, though, he didn’t need the rose garden. Tonight was that certain lucky moment every man dreams of but seldom finds. Christ, what a girl, what a hell of a woman!
“Mmmmm… that’s nice, honey, nice and deep,” came the hoarse whisper through the darkness. Sandy’s levis, blouse and underclothes were strewn haphazardly on the floor beside the couch, and her long trim legs were cocked back at a forty-five degree angle, flattened back hard against her chest, smashing the firmly swelling mounds of her young breasts beneath her own thighs.
Roger was half on his knees and half arched off the sofa, supported on his feet and palms, his long pulsating hard cock buried deep in the dark-haired girl’s belly, stretching apart the warm hungry lips of her cunt as he flexed the head of his huge fleshy length far up in her womb.
“Oh, yes, yes,” she moaned, “God, you feel so good inside of me!”
He smiled a little to himself and tightened his loins, jerking the heatedly bulging head of his cock deep up inside the hot moistness of her cunt, bringing a grateful moan to her ovalled lips. He flexed the rigidly throbbing thickness again and the young girl gasped in pleasure as the enormous instrument probed the previously untried depths of her cuntal passage, far up inside her belly. Other shrill cries escaped her lips as the powerful landlord began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis and her hotly seeping cuntal cavern gradually became accustomed to this thick invading prick stretching her to the limit. He pushed his pelvis tight against her upturned, wetly-glistening pussy and ground his cock deeply into her, expanding the still-quivering walls until her moistly warm pussy fit his massive cock as though it had been a custom-made glove.
Roger reached past the nakedly writhing body of the black haired girl and yanked at the cords of the draperies, pulling them further apart so that the room was bathed in a fine glow of moonlight over the rose garden that outlined each one of the warm, smoothly gleaming curves. The naked girl’s translucent skin glowed like an ivory statue of a Goddess and her softly fleshed breasts were two alabaster mounds, capped with a little brown nipples, hard and throbbing, as Roger thrust his long, hard manhood deep into the hungrily clasping sheath up between her wide-spread legs. Sandy’s eyes were closed, her teeth tightly clenched, and her face distorted from the delicious torment of his rigidly thick organ in her eager young cunt.
Afraid to believe his eyes, the landlord ran his sweating palms over the girl’s naked flesh, rubbing lewdly the moonshaped firm cheeks of her supple buttocks as his fingers delicately probed the hair-lined cuntal lips tightly clamped around his impaling cock. His fingertip flicked tentatively at her tightly puckered little anus as his hand eased between their sweat-soaked bodies; his finger pressed painfully against the opening, then suddenly popped through the tiny nether ring and wormed deeply up into the soft rubbery flesh inside her rectum. It moved around, expanding the small hole until the palm of his hand lay flattened against her yielding ass-cheeks, his whole middle finger sunk all the way up inside the forbidden little tunnel.
Roger simply couldn’t believe his luck. This was just too much for any man! Just an hour ago, he’d been sitting quietly, sipping his bourbon and water, cautiously laying out the details of his plan for those two girls up on the thirteenth floor… and now this! Damn, he’d had his share of women, but never a hot little bitch like this one. Christ, she’d practically torn his pants off trying to get at his cock, licking it, nibbling at it as though it were food and she’d been starving for a week! And now, hell, she was hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July.
He began a hard rhythmic fucking motion in and out of Sandy’s moistly stretched pussy, thrusting forward mercilessly from his arched backstroke and battering her writhing body back hard against the sofa cushions, all the while continuing the relentless plundering of her anus with his rigid finger, slowly pistoning it in rhythm with long, skewering thrust of his lust-distended cock, bringing loud sobbing gasps from her half-opened lips in time with agonizing tempo of his finger and his cock fucking her at once. He could feel the hardness of his cock through the thin fleshy membrane between her cuntal and anal channel as he rammed into her again and again; his finger, plundering her hopelessly stretched little asshole, rubbed along the whole throbbing length of his prick as it wetly slithered deep into her cunt.
Sandy was enjoying every delicious second of it — through a series of unusual circumstances, she’d been without a man for two days now, and nothing on earth could have felt better than this, the blood-boiling ecstasy of a long, hard male cock fucked deep into her craving young belly. That was the way she liked it, and the harder and bigger it was, the better. Being fucked by a man like this was always brought out those suppressed masochistic urges she kept hidden in everyday life and lying flat on her back like this, absolutely naked and helpless, she could let those shameful desires and passions run rampant through her writhing body, could pull her knees back tight against her breasts and savor wondrously the deep, burrowing thrusts of a man’s cock far up inside her moistly heated cuntal passage. Roger was very well-hung, and she liked that most of all in a man, and now, nothing else mattered…!
One floor above, someone was thinking identical thoughts. Margaret Sorenson plumped up her feather pillow for the fourth time that night and peeled up the afghan that sat folded at the foot of her man-empty bed. Already she’d taken one Sominex, and it had done nothing but depress her and make her feet tingle with a strange, drugged sensation. And it was late, the clock warned, as she finally sat up in bed and flicked on the night lamp beside her bed, standing next to the photograph of Sandor.
With a groan of self-loathing, she lovingly picked up the metal framed photograph of her deceased husband. He stood on a pier, a huge oceanliner behind him; it was taken in 1968 when she and Sandor got off the boat to face their destiny in America. How happy and vibrant he looked! Margaret blinked back the tears, bit into her lip and put it back to its bedside grave.
What would dear, wonderful Sandor think if he knew that at that very moment she lay in bed lonely and anguished… for the want of another man! A man who had given her his love with promises for more, and then carefully avoided her.
She wailed, covering her face with her hands, a wave of remorse washing over her as she struggled to keep from going to Roger’s door and pounding angry fists against it. Where was the love she needed so badly? She’d done everything she could to please him — cooked for him, cleaned for him, and… and oh my God, he realized she’d done that too. She’d had oral love with him.
No! Her Swedish pride screamed a shaking finger at her. She couldn’t go down there and embarrass herself in front of him. But damn! Roger was all she had now, and she couldn’t stand to lose him too. Instead, she would take another sleeping pill, count sheep, and cry herself to sleep. But never, never would she humiliate herself in front of him.
The pill sipped easily down her throat and she turned off the lights…
One floor below, Sandy’s hips were moving with a savage rhythm now, grinding up against her landlord’s hairy loins with increasing speed as he stepped up the dual pace of his cock and finger ravaging both hot hungry holes down there between her quivering legs.
“Yes, yes, Goddamn it yes! Fuck me, oh, shit, yes. Fuck me, darling!” she cried, squirming her body lewdly around beneath Roger’s pelvis, knocking the sofa cushions askew in her mindless passion.
The wanton young girl opened her eyes… she could see the clear unmistakable silhouette of a man hovering over her, but the face was a blank shadow. She raised her neck slightly, looking down between her upturned thighs and saw the long, glistening shaft of his hardened cock sliding easily in and out of her wildly quivering cunt. A cold chill raced along her spine as he thrust his hips forward, driving the thick gleaming pole up into the hot wetness of her tightly clasping tunnel. It didn’t matter that his face was invisible; in fact, it almost seemed right… she needed a man, any man, his face was of no importance. What she needed — what she yearned for — was buried deliciously now up between her smooth bare thighs.
The ecstasy soon reached a bone-shattering peak. “Oh, God, yes, don’t stop! Fuck me like this forever, baby! Don’t stop! Yes, oh yes, fuck me!” She grunted her words into the chill darkness, grinding her naked young ass up against him faster and faster, trying to keep up with the monstrous pole of hot flesh that was skewering her like a heavy hunk of meat, pounding its long way deeper and deeper up into her belly with a frantic, animal tempo.
It was impossible to keep up the heated pace any longer; she felt too Goddamned good. Roger could not hold back another second, and he took one lustful look at the abandonedly writhing young brunette pinned helplessly beneath the weight of his body and began fast, pushing thrusts that buried his powerfully pulsating prick right up to the pubic hairs on his pelvis with each and every deep, skewering lunge. Faster and faster he pounded, far up into her hot raging little belly, every muscle tensed, sweat dripping from his chest and thighs, faster, harder, deeper…
“No, no, please! Wait! Please wait just a little longer…!” Sandy cried, as she realized he was about to cum. But it was too late, for Roger’s lips parted and a long low groan of relief escaped as his sperm-swollen balls heatedly pumped spurt after spurt of white hot cum deep into her quivering cunt. The brunette girl ground her frantically writhing loins up tightly against his pelvis in a futile attempt to halt the warm flow, but she was betrayed by her own eager cunt which hungrily milked his jerking cock, until every last drop of his viscous load was sloshing deep up inside her passion distended womb.
Roger pulled himself off the still squirming girl, his cock slithering wetly from her heated depths as the thickly bearded pink lips of her cunt reluctantly released their prize. A thin string of white stickiness hung momentarily from the tip of his limply dangling cock before it fell onto her smooth unblemished thighs.
Sandy lay quietly, at least as quietly as she could considering the sexual turmoil churning in her loins, as Roger stretched out beside her, his prick lying uselessly between his wide-spread thighs. Her full young breasts rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for breath to fill her passion-emptied lungs and still the flames of undiluted passion raging uncontrollably in her cunt — a scorching inferno of unfulfilled animal desires that still painfully awaited relief. Without any conscious effort, as if in a dream and she was alone with no one to witness her shamefulness, her own hands began to ease slowly along the flat expanse of her belly, drawn as if by magic to the fluffy little vee between her thighs. The fingertips of both hands brushed lightly over the puffy hot lips of her wetly hungry crevice, and a jolt of excitement shot through her torso as she began caressing the incredibly sensitive folds. One outstretched slender finger slipped inside the sperm soaked opening as if it had a mind of its own, and she could feel the softly moist walls close involuntarily around the invader, hungrily gasping at anything to fill the painful void.
She jerked her hand away quickly as she felt the sofa move ever so slightly; and she saw Roger kneeling at the other end, still completely naked, his long penis clutched between the clenched fingers of his left hand like some menacing weapon at the ready. Above her like that in the nearly blackened room, he towered over her like some medieval giant. She couldn’t take her eyes off his rubbery cock, and he watched her, pleased with himself, as she kept her attention focused on the fleshy pole dangling from his wet, hair-covered loins. As she stared, mesmerized, it began to swell, only a little at first, in a tiny quivering crawl, then more, in pulsating movements of new growth as the momentum of desire grew stronger within him.
“You don’t have to play with yourself, baby. I’ve got all the cock you can handle,” he lewdly grinned. “Now turn over like a good little girl, and I’ll show you what I mean…”
Sandy rolled over obediently on the couch, smearing the sticky trail of sperm from her thighs onto the sofa cushions. She lay quietly on her stomach, waiting for him to tell her what to do; she knew men like to give the orders, and she didn’t mind obeying, particularly if it meant another taste of that magnificent penis. Anyway, she’d always liked it dog-fashion from behind; on her knees the penetration seemed even deeper, and that was perfect as far as she was concerned…
Twenty minutes had passed in that lonely, rucked up bed with only Margaret’s mature body messing it up with tossing and turning. Her mind was like a movie camera, clicking off mental images of herself with Roger last night. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for an instant replay of that wonderful, wonderful cock of his in her hungry mouth. It had felt so good. She’d give anything to have it there right now!
Why not? her tranquilized mind asked. Why not go down there, knock on his door and offer her mouth for his pleasure. The Swedish pride melted with hot desire. Yes, yes, damn it, she would do just that. All he could do was refuse, and she believed, needed to believe that Roger would never refuse her. He was her man.
She slipped out of bed, pulled her robe over her floor length nightgown and ran a comb through her hair and, opening the window, for a breath of fresh air, drew in a deep breath for courage, and left the door slightly ajar after her…
“Now kneel,” Roger commanded, grabbing impatiently at her hips and helping her to her knees. She rested panting for a moment on all fours, her firmly rounded young buttocks shoved high and vulnerable in the air, waving temptingly before him like a flag before a maddened bull. In the dim light, he could see that the moistly pouting little lips of her pussy were puckered in invitation as she leaned forward, resting her head on the opposite arm of the sofa, her softly fleshed little ass jutting up at him completely unguarded and available to use as he wished. Sandy’s reddened eyes were glazed with the ravishment her body had endured, and her pulse quickened at the thrilling prospect of this man’s steel-hard cock imbedded once again deeply inside the hungrily quivering walls of her pussy.
Suddenly, her dream-like anticipation was shattered as she felt the insistent probing of Roger’s fully erect cock at her backside… not at the moist, eagerly waiting lips of her cunt, but at her anus!
Uncertain, she waved the trembling half-moons of her roundly fleshed buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt, swollen head of his cock pushing in against the tiny puckered hole of her rectum.
“Roger, darling, not there, please,” she pleaded, not knowing of her landlord’s fetish. “You’re too big. You’ll split me in half!”
There was no answer from Roger, but in the fleeting instant before the searing pain blanked her thoughts completely, she was certain she heard a muffled chuckle from somewhere behind her. His only other response was immediate and to the point… with a grunt, he shoved his powerful loins forward increasing the already intolerable pressure against the tightly clenched little rectum.
Abruptly, without warning, the anal ring bent inward — hot hotly throbbing thick pole invaded her tiny rear passage in one vicious lunge and almost a half of the long rigid length of his cock disappeared up into her hideously stretched anal mouth.
Sandy attempted to crawl forward, yelling in surprise and agony, “Awwwww, please! You’re hurting me! It hurts, pull it out. Please, Roger, please!”
“No, baby, I’m not going to take it out… but you’ve got the tightest asshole I’ve ever felt.” He laughed lewdly and grabbed the fleshy rims of her hips like a couple of handles and forced her frantically thrashing buttocks back against him with all his strength, gasping in pain himself as his massive staff sank to the hilt in the warm anal passage. His balls swung forward and slapped against her dripping wet pussy, brushing ever so gently against the sensitive ragged lips just below the obscenely-stretched rim of her rectal lips, where his pole-thick cock was plundering her mercilessly.
He gripped her so tightly that the tortured girl was unable to jerk away from this incredible agony. It was as if the blunt end of the softball bat had been somehow rammed up between her open buttocks, shoved far up inside her belly until her stomach tightened with nausea from the excruciating pain…
With her ear to the door and her knuckles white from knocking, Margaret Sorenson clutched at her bathrobe with the other hand, her mind reeling with confusion and a drug-induced stupor. He was in there, she insistently reasoned, but he wasn’t answering the door. Maybe he had fallen asleep in front of the television set, she hoped, grasping at air. She didn’t, couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t let her in if he were at home. No, that would be too painful to believe. Margaret set the door arattle with one final knock, before padding down the hall in her fleecy slippers, her head downcast and her spirits plundered. She took the carpeted stairway — faded and worn through to the burlap lining, half dragging herself up the stairs to her apartment and there opened the window and slipped out to the fire escape. Roger’s living room window was accessible from the fire escape, she knew from past experience.
The metal was cold on her feet, even through her slippers. Carefully, she guided her hand along the icy railing and descended down one flight of barred steps that cut into he tender feet. As she neared Roger’s living room window she could plainly hear moaning sounds. Yes! He was watching television. Her spirits soared until she was close enough to peak in. The she saw it — graphically.
“Oh, please, please, Roger, pull it out! I can’t take it any more… please, I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll suck your cock, do anything, please, but not this, I’m splitting apart!”
The words sunk into Margaret’s consciousness like a brandished sword. Closing her eyes against the tear-inciting sight, she watched as Roger, her man, fucked a young girl in the buttocks. A clammy hand flew to Margaret’s mouth and she stood on the fire escape reeling, holding onto the railing for fear of loosing her balance. The emotional pain seared her heart, and a growing ball of nausea swept over her body, warming her stomach, then her throat. When it hit her, she couldn’t hold back. Bracing her arms on the lifeless railing, she let the sorrows, the loss, and the agonies of a lost love spill over the railing to the empty streets below. A figure in the night, she pulled herself up to the third floor where her lace curtains danced in the window, inviting her to her self-chosen solitude.
Tomorrow she would think about what she had seen. Tonight she must rest. Margaret put her robe to rest on the bedpost and slipped into the cold sheets, then picked up the picture of Sandor and kissed it before turning off the light…
Down below the lewd vignette continued. Roger was deaf to Sandy’s pleas, his eyes were wide with astonished disbelief as he watched his thick white cock slide back and forth, first back until just the swollen tip alone remained between the tightly stretched band of her anus, then forward again, inch by throbbing inch, until all of his long hard shaft was nestled deep inside her hotly constrictive hole. The feeling was incredible! It was as if a warm hand covered in soft brown velvet had grabbed his throbbing penis and was pulling it far up inside the helpless girl’s belly.
Like a man possessed, he rammed his rock-hard rod of flesh home harder and harder, pushing aside the tender pink walls of her rectum as he shoved his massive cock as far as it could go up into her heatedly quivering belly. As if torn by demons, he plowed into her backside again and again, his whole body trembling with the fury of his unnatural lust.
But for Sandy, something weird and wonderful was happening, a change was taking place that was transforming this barbarous act from excruciating pain into a wildly exciting delicious pleasure. Slowly, her pain and fear were being replaced with the overwhelming feeling of total and absolute subjugation, total ravishment at the hands of this near-stranger. The mental picture of her quivering young buttocks being so ruthlessly plundered incited spasm of forbidden pleasure throughout her nakedly writhing body. The unanswered hunger in her belly began to rage out of control again, and she started to undulate her buttocks in tiny teasing circles, squeezing with her strong rectal muscles at the impaling shaft imbedded so hotly inside her, milking eagerly at the long fleshy cock savagely boring into her from behind. She wanted to drain it, to fill her heretofore virginal little anal orifice with this man’s seething load, to feel his hot sticky flood fill her rectum until cum ran in torrents down her sweat-soaked thighs. She had never been sodomized like this before; always, somehow, she had been able to talk her way out of it, whenever one of her lovers had suggested it.
Tonight, though, she had regretted ever having had second thoughts in the past, for she was wallowing in the wild intensity of this delicious pleasure-pain, savoring every second of the delectable torment he was inflicting on her ravaged back passage. The writhing young girl tightly clenched her buttocks, intensifying the masochistic thrill that had taken control of her body.
Nothing mattered now except this, nothing but this long hard pole of masculine flesh that was bringing her such incredibly wanton ecstasy. God, she wanted its hot load inside her! She wanted to feel its scalding warmth flooding her very intestines with an unending torrent of life-giving sperm until it sloshed in her belly and ran through every pore of her naked body in gushing rivers of wicked pleasure.
And an instant later, Sandy’s erotic fantasies were fulfilled as Roger suddenly let out a loud grunt and his enormous cock rammed far, far up into her ravaged rectum. Almost immediately, she felt the awesome wave of her own orgasm, so long in coming, sweep over her, bringing an anguished moan to her lips.
“Aaaaggghhhh, God, yes! Aaawww!” she wailed loudly, her savage moans filling the darkened room and reverberating from the walls as, suddenly, his wildly jerking penis grew even larger and began spewing its white hot load deep up into her hungrily clasping back passage. His cum ricocheted heatedly around inside and spurted from the ravenously sucking hole to stream in a thick white river down the young brunette’s firmly trembling thighs, soaking his own balls as they slammed tightly in the sopping wet crevice beneath her wide-stretched anus. The oozing liquid flowed warmly down over his leathery testicles as they continued to lightly brush against the glistening lips of her pussy. Violent shudders of excitement ran through her naked body as her orgasm built, crested and intensified.
“Aieeee… I’m cumming,” she shrieked. “Oh, God, fuck harder, I’m cumming!”
Sandy screwed her buttocks tightly back against the still spewing cock buried deep in her flooded rectum and abruptly, as a loud scream burst from between her clenched teeth, she felt her whole body explode with the pricks of a million red-hot needles as his last punishing thrust took her up, up, and over the brink into a chasm of complete ecstatic pleasure. Her strength was suddenly gone, and she fell forward on the sofa as his long glistening cock slipped with a lewd wet sucking sound from the fist-like, grip of her tightly clinging rectal walls. She shivered once more as the cool air swirled around and up inside her unplugged, still dilated opening, chilling her very insides with the cold blast.
Roger weakly collapsed on the floor beside the sofa with a gasping moan that seemed more of relief than of pain, amazed that his body had not come to pieces and exploded from the fury of the last few minutes. He lay very still beside her, his hand resting on her nakedly trembling thigh as she heaved and gasped for breath, and for a long while, there were silent.
Roger played with one taut nipple. “Baby, we could make a fortune. Hell, it’s not prostitution anyways. It’s going out on dates, that’s all. With my connections and your ass, we could make a couple thou’ a month. And you won’t have to rely on foodstamps,” he laughed.
“Sounds good to me,” smiled Sandy. “But you’re going to have a hard time convincing Chris. Chris has always followed the straight and narrow, but don’t get me wrong,” she immediately filled in. “Chris is a great girl, my best friend and I don’t want to lead her into anything that she’ll regret later.”
“Simple enough. We put her up with the mild ones until she gets used to it. Then we’ll turn her on to something that’ll make her want a little more… if you know what I mean.”
Sandy didn’t reply, just stared at the lit end of her smouldering cigarette. “Okay,” she grinned in her impish way. “I’ll talk to Chris tomorrow. But let me tell you this. She’s always stuck by me and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“No sweat,” reassured Roger with a tweak of her right nipple.
Eleven stories above, Chris O’Brien lay in her bed, trying to sleep despite the deafening din of the buses and traffic outside of her bedroom window. Minutes later she sat upright in bed, hearing the familiar midnight sound of Sandy turning her key in the lock and listening to the footsteps shuffle in the direction of her bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp in time to see Sandy emerge through her door.
“We’re going to be out of debt in no time,” giggled Sandy, collapsing on her roommate’s bed. “And we start tomorrow night!”
“Hi, ya!” beamed Sandy, closing the door behind her handing Chris her mail. “Here… look.” She thrust an official looking envelope in Chris’ hands. “Food-stamps. First of the month. What do you say we buy a couple of Porterhouse steaks and celebrate? God, it seems like an eternity since we’ve had a real meal,” she complained, collapsing on the faded velour couch with a squeak of the protesting springs. “Mine came too, only I got them for a whole family.”
“What? But Sandy, you don’t have a family. How did you get $128 worth?” She waved the envelope accusingly in the air, one hand on her levied hip.
The black-headed girl shrugged casually. “Simple, I just told them I had a husband home sick, and this neat looking guy told me to follow him and fill out the forms.” She pulled open her shoulderbag, and, searching for her pack of cigarettes, found them and tore open the top and shook out two, one for each of them.
Chris hissed through clenched teeth. “Damn it, Sandy. That’s fraud! Don’t you read the newspapers?” she blurted heatedly. “They’re cleaning house down at the welfare department. Anybody who’s caught telling lies to get foodstamps is up for fraud, and that’s a federal offense.”
Sandy tutted. “Oh, don’t be silly Chris. How is anybody going to find out I don’t have a husband and two kids? Why don’t you look at the bright side?” The green eyed girl spread her hands and shrugged. “We’re getting $128 worth of free food and you’re complaining? It was easy: I borrowed somebody’s kids in exchange for a joint. No big deal.” Her long lithe arm reached over to the end table and long red fingertips clutched the match book.
Chris’ platform shoes made clunking sounds as she nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Oh swell. Just don’t call me up when the authorities start looking for you!” They were riding the red line of poverty, and it was wearing on both girl’s patience.
Sandy stood up on one foot to light Chris’ cigarette off of her own smoldering one, then handed it to her grateful roommate. That last cigarette butt just hadn’t cut it.
“And what about the rent?” Chris blinked as the pungent smoke attacked her eyes with the first heavy draw on the virgin cigarette. “Any idea how we’re going to pay that? God, do you have any idea of how much we owe Roger as of tomorrow?” She counted it out on her fingers, letting her lit cigarette dangle unfemininely from her lips. “$140 for last month and the same for this month. That’s $280 we have no way of earning.”
Sandy’s green eyes fastened on her roommate, and blinked in downcast acquiesence. Chris was right, there was no way to avoid that horrifying truth. Yes, they were in trouble and it was mostly her fault. But why couldn’t Chris understand that was why she’d gone to the welfare office and lied to the social worker. The dark haired girl drew in her breath with a desperate gasp. The Aid to Dependent Children form she’d filled out this morning was a lie too! What if Chris were right? What if she did get caught for welfare fraud! Oh, Jesus! But at the time, she thought defensively, she was certain she was doing the right thing. And everybody did it; it was no big thing. California the welfare state and all that jive…
“Listen,” gestured Sandy with the palm of her hand. “I’ll talk to Roger myself. I know that creep who ripped off your money was my responsibility. I’m in the wrong… as usual,” the emotional girl said for the thousandth time in her life, “and I’ll go down to talk to Roger. Okay?”
Chris, seeing the distraught look in her roommate’s eyes, felt instantly repentant for her emotional outburst and accusations, though most of them remained unspoken. “I’m sorry, Sandy,” sighed Chris, sinking to her knees and grabbing her friend’s hand in hers. “I don’t mean to sound like such a bitch. It’s just that I’m really disappointed in everything that’s happened to us since we’ve been in San Francisco. No job, no money, no chance to go out and explore… and no dates… well you’ve had no problems in that department, but I’m not as outgoing as you are,” she admitted with a wince. “I don’t mean to get so uptight.”
Sandy stroked her friend’s hair with sisterly affection. “That’s okay, Chris. I understand. But I hope it won’t hurt your feelings if I tell you that since you and Mark broke up last spring you’ve been really uptight. I know what you need,” grinned Sandy with a knowing smirk. She nodded her head for emphasis. “Yeah, that’s the problem,” she giggled giving her friend’s head a loving pat.
Chris stared up into her roommate’s twinkling, devilishly green eyes. The truth was written there by the hand of experience. If anyone should know the merits of a healthy sex life, it was Sandy — unattestably Sandy.
“Hey, friend,” soothed Sandy. “Why don’t you go in and take a good hot bath. I just brought some vanilla scented bubble bath from this neat store that sells nothing but organic products.” She tutted with self-recrimination. “I know I shouldn’t have spent the money,” she admitted, rolling her eyes in her flirtatious manner, and sticking out her pouty lower lip like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar and trying to lie his way out of it. “But the clerk told me it had the correct PH balance and all that… well, I just couldn’t resist. Anyway, take a hot bath, calm down and sprinkle some of that vanilla bubble bath in. It smells so sexy!”
“Sounds good to me,” smiled Chris heading for the bathroom, wondering how Sandy could con her into anything, marveling at her magic touch.
With Sandy’s giggle still ringing in her ears, Chris turned on the radio and sauntered toward the bathroom and pulled off her tee shirt and Levi’s, leaving her bikini and bra on long enough to dart to her bedroom and pull a fresh towel from her bureau drawer.
Later, as the blonde haired girl prepared to step into the warm, sudsy bath water she had drawn, her reflection in the cracked mirror caught her eye. On the whole she was satisfied with what she saw. She was not as full breasted as her teasingly voluptuous roommate, but her breasts were firm and round. Testing the bathwater with her toe, she unsnapped her bra and pulled it from her arms, then pulled down and kicked off her panties.
Chris stared into the mirror again, this time running her hands over her satin-smooth skin, and bringing up both palms to cup the rounded swells of her lushly ripening young breasts, rolling the erectile nipples between her fingers until they were distended and the areolas puckered up around them, the warm flush of tumescence spreading through her — the feeling of need, of desire, of sexuality. She turned for a profile view. Maybe Sandy was right: what she needed was a good long roll in the hay.
If only Mark were here, she thought temptingly, stepping into the tepid bath tub and sighing as the warm water lapped at her worried body. Yes, Mark, she ah-ah-ed, slipping down in the tub ‘til her blonde hair floated on the vanilla bubbles. Mark had been her steady date through most of her sophomore year in college and into her third year, too. It had been mostly for companionship that they spent time together studying and going to football games; suddenly, and without their even knowing, their innocent infatuation filled with hand-holding and necking, gave way to desperately passionate sessions in Chris’ apartment. Chris’ resistance weakened further every time until finally there had come the inevitable loss of her virginity.
Being a virgin wasn’t something she had particularly relished, not a life-creed to be carried around on a signboard, just something that seemed right for her. The voluptuous blonde had never really made any plans about keeping her virginity, or about losing it, for that matter. But when it happened, it just happened. It was something she regretted now, not only because her parents had come for that God-awful surprise visit the next day, but because she hadn’t anything… or anybody… to show for it now.
The blonde, relishing in the feminine feel of the suds remembered that night, that awful regrettable night. As if to scatter those thoughts to the wind, she dipped her hand into the suds and blew a stream of bubbles into the moist air watching them as they popped and dissipated like time itself.
Mark. A perfect gentleman… most of the time, mused Chris now, feeling sexy and feminine mummified in the vanilla bubbles. She remembered, too, the Hawaiian sarong she had worn to the springtime fraternity party, how daring she felt knowing one pull on that rope belt and her breasts would come tumbling free. She’d felt devilishly sinful that night, it may have been the full moon, she later thought. But the boilermakers — the virgin’s lethal drink made of tasteless wood alcohol and Hawaiian punch — had a lot to do with it! It had tasted so good she’d had a glass, though she seldom drank… then another, and another.
After the dance he’d driven her home and carried her to the door. Apparently Sandy had let him in, but she could hardly blame her roommate for that; Mark had spent many nights in their apartment when he didn’t feel like going back to his fraternity house room which he shared with a frat brother. Mark had slung the door open with his shoulder and lay the lush half-conscious body out on the soft mattress.
“Oh,” she’d mumbled thickly, stirring uneasily in her alcohol-sodden slumber. “Have I been asleep? Mark, I’m so drunk!”
“That’s okay,” the broad shouldered fraternity boy replied soothingly, not wanting her to regain full consciousness just yet. It had been an age old tradition in the fraternity; if you can’t get your girl to make it with you after the Hawaiian dance, all bets were off you ever would. Besides, he’d had a bet riding on it. “You’ll feel fine in the morning,” he reassured.
Chris couldn’t help but giggle drunkenly at the thought of Mark playing nurse to her. But his thick strong fingers proved agile enough as he pulled on the rope belt that held that single piece of fabric snug to her lithe body, and slid the garment gently over her head, revealing most of her supple tempting young bodily curves to his avidly searching eyes.
Suddenly, Mark had become a man possessed, a maniac driven only by his intense animal lust for her body. Nothing else mattered to him that instant but fucking his long, painfully hard cock into that warm hair-lined pussy no man had ever touched, that damply glistening cleft he’d hungered for so long. She was a woman to him now, a desirable young woman to be taken, a virgin born for his sacrifice.
He reached for her, grabbing her roughly before she had time to react, before she could even cry out in surprise, a deep beast-like groan erupting from his throat as he pulled her roughly in prone position on the bed.
“Please, Mark, please… we can’t… w-we can’t!” she moaned piteously as he held her down with one lust-strengthened hand and ran the other greedily over the lush contours of her nakedly struggling body, kneading her ripe succulent breasts cruelly with hands now beyond his control, hands that acted as if they were possessed with a spirit beyond his own. Pinkish ridges of her softly delicate flesh protruded between his straining fingers as his head had dropped to the budding young nipples and chewed hungrily at their tips until he had felt the tenderly resilient flesh give way and the salty taste of blood seeping onto his lashing tongue.
“Oh, no, not like this. It can’t be like this!” she moaned, more in anguish than in anger. But her plea was unheeded.
In his madness, he still held her wildly straining body tightly to the bed, imprisoning her there by he heavy tensed chest that weighed upon her lithe slenderness like a giant crushing boulder. Her long blonde hair began thrashing from side to side on the bed, her beautiful face contorted with anguish. She pleaded until the words become nothing but incoherent mutterings of jumbled words.
And it was then that he brutally fucked her the first time, robbed her of her virginity in a frenzy of jungle passion gone wild.
Ignoring the low moaning pleas, Mark rolled on top of the violently struggling coed, catching her body just as her long, slimly tapered legs had scissored out in one last desperate effort to escape his brutal assault. His hips had fallen down tightly against the mattress. The soft down of her thinly curling pubic hair brushed teasingly against his throbbing cock, inciting him to insane mumblings of crazed uncontrollable lust.
She felt the anguish of that night even now as she recalled it so clearly, like slow-motion frames from an old movie as it flashed in her brain. His knees were spreading hers wide apart, and he was grinding his pelvis hard into her squirmingly defenseless crotch, completely naked and vulnerable then to his rapacious assault. She felt once again the spasmodic jerkings of her own fleshy inner thighs as he drove his hand between them. Mark was searching for that elusive treasure, that jewel-like never-before-penetrated orifice between her wildly trembling legs. And then he found it! He jammed his heatedly throbbing cock up between her widespread legs, following the guide of his hand in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, and then shoved his blood-filled prick’s head between her fleshy cuntal lips with a groan, he brutally thrust it all the way forward without hesitation up into her quivering pussy, deflowering her like a kidnapped Sabine maiden prostrate before her barbarian captor. Chris shrieked in agony and kicked her legs out wildly in the air in a futile attempt to escape the cruel impalement. Her frantic movement only worsened her plight, however, opening the depths of her unplowed furrow to his plundering cock as it hotly rammed deeper and deeper into her yielding cuntal flesh. At last, his pelvis smacked down hard against hers, signaling the hoped-for end of her agony as his rigidly beating cock slid all the way up inside her trembling belly, the warm wet bloody walls of her cunt wrapped tightly around the fleshy hardness like a moist warm glove.
But the aroused fraternity boy hadn’t stopped there. He didn’t even give Chris a chance to adjust to the sudden unexpected presence deep in her virginal young womb. He just began to fuck her, thrusting in and out of her like a mongrel dog mounting a bitch in heat, and with about that much concern for her enjoyment and happiness. He had only thought of one thing — to spew his hot, thick sperm deep inside of her tight little pussy where it belonged and where he had yearned to empty it for so long now. He vented his lust against her torturedly groaning body time after time, flooding her cringing belly again and again with the hot white liquid of over a year’s frustrated waiting and hoping until finally… his cum was gone.
And this was the boy she’d been thinking of marrying! Chris had awakened in the night, sobbing from a nightmare she was not convinced was real until she saw the blood smeared evidence on her inner thighs.
Worst of all, her parents had chosen that next day to come visit her! She’d been too ashamed to crawl out of that bed to and greet them. And Mark, damn him! He laughed through the afternoon thinking it extremely funny while she sobbed into her pillow.
That was the last she saw of him.
*****
Chris pulled the belt to her fleecy robe tight around her still damp body and wrapping a towel around her sopping, freshly shampooed hair, emerged from the bathroom to find the landlord pacing back and forth in the living room a letter in one hand, a cigarette in the other. On the sofa sat Sandy, pale-faced and saucer-eyed, taking inhumanely long drags off her cigarette and exhaling with exhausting force. The blue smoky aura around her dark hair testified to the lengthy encounter between the renter and rentee. A tale of woe for poverty-stricken victims of America’s unemployed. Chris heard nothing above the low roar of the top 40 rock station except for the words “welfare fraud” and “eviction”. Fear froze her to the floor, her two feet two ice cubes melted to the tray. She clenched her jaws tight. Damn!
Roger stood straight and tall, his body abuzz with the excitement of facing a challenge most men would have cringed at. Roger could not remember when he had come up with the idea; probably it wasn’t the sort of plan that was conceived all at once, but rather the result of several years as being a landlord and listening to half-hearted excuses and rationalizations for late rent and middle-of-the-night moves. He did remember the night he was woken up at two o’clock in the morning and, suspecting one of his tenant’s of beating up his girl friend, broke in with his master key in time to see her flailing her hair back and forth on a love-crumpled bed while an embarrassed middle-aged man fucked in and out of her buttocks. In the kitchen the tenant sat smoking marijuana and drinking beer, keeping a close eye on the kitchen clock. A dollar a minute counts up-fast! Damn! Roger had thought at the time, I’m going through hell trying to collect the rent, and these bastards make twice that much in one night. Why not cash in on a piece of the action? he’d asked himself numerous times.
Hell, at that rate he could quit driving a cab and stay at home to make money. Legitimate money took time, especially with taxes and insurance — all the crap that drains your pocket for no reason but to keep the money flowing.
The first step had been to con two Mexican girls — lovely pieces of ass they were — into chaperoning a couple of businessmen Roger had taxied to Broadway Street where they wanted a quick floor show and blow job, something their wives wouldn’t put out for. One phone call to the girls and snap! Fifty bucks in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: fifty bucks in his hand. Nobody got hurt and everybody was happy: the businessmen got laid, the girls got twenty-five dollars each, and Roger the other half.
With Margaret Sorenson it had been a case of coincidence, too, he rationalized to himself. Boy, she’d been crying her heart out for a man since old Sandor was blown to bits by that accident. She’d come pounding on Roger’s door every day spilling out her woes, making promises for paying the rent… even offering to clean his place! How could a bachelor refuse an offer like that? Finding out about her inheritance… well, that hadn’t been quite as accidental. He’d never thought he’d resort to steaming open mail, but it proved worthwhile. Old Margaret was sitting on a Goddamned nest-egg, just crying for somebody to share it with. Couple more months and he might be a married man.
But these two girls. Whow! They were in hot water up to their pretty virgin asses. Welfare fraud, he tutted to himself, pivoting to see the blonde haired girl staring wild-eyed behind him.
“Come sit down, Chris,” he motioned toward the sofa. “I’ve got something here you had better know about.” His brown paw waved an official looking letter in the air, gesturing for her to sit next to her roommate.
The roommate’s eyes locked for a terrified second and, feeling the burden of the guilt, Sandy winced, wrinkling up her perky nose and, as if to beg pardon, shook out a cigarette and handed it to her solemn-faced roommate whose every blink of the eye was a righteously wielded accusation of irresponsibility.
Roger, studying the nipples spiking out from the blonde girl’s robe, smiled appreciatively in a tight smirk. Yes, she would sell well, he thought to himself, waiting for his audience to snap alert under his threatening gaze. “To fill you in on the facts, Chris, this is a letter from the social service department of San Francisco… I assume you know who they are since you’ve been getting foodstamps for the past month.”
Chris nodded her turbaned head.
“As landlord I was mailed this letter to ask a few questions about your living situation. According to this xeroxed form, Sandra… that’s you,” he blinked his chocolate eyes at the dark haired girl who cowered in the sofa, one leg hugged up to her chest, her dimpled chin resting on her knee, “... are supposed to be married to a Christopher O’Brien and supporting two children.” He flung the letter to the side table and feigning a glare, thrust his hands in his pockets and resumed his pacing.
Silence fell on the room, broken only by the dull crackle of a radio that hummed out Bob Dylan’s “Dear Landlord… put a price on my soul”. Sandy stifled an irresponsible giggle; it was almost funny in a desperate sort of way, but Chris’ elbow in her ribs put a somber look back on her pixie face.
“So… what do we do about it?” Sandy pouted, sighed and tutted. “Okay,” she said in a monotone voice, “... so I lied. Now what are you going to do about it? Have me locked up? Call my family? Good luck if you do.”
Roger drew in a deep breath and rested his finger on his lower lip. “If I wanted to get nasty about it, I could do just that. Welfare fraud is becoming one of the most common crimes in this city, and the taxpayers are Goddamned sick of it… especially since all these young people are coming out here to the West Coast without jobs and sucking up all the welfare so the people who really need it go hungry. Papers are full of cases.”
Chris wriggled uncomfortably on the sofa, fearing the worst. One glance at Roger and she knew he wasn’t going to give them a break.
“Then there’s the matter of your rent being overdue,” his brown intense eyes snapped wider like shutters on springs. “Two months now and you girls haven’t paid me a dime. Legally I could have you out of here in thirty days…”
Chris was the first to break. She rested her head in her hands and sobbed three times before regaining her composure. Today had been an emotional nightmare, saying nothing about financial. An apologetic feminine hand stroked her arm as she squeezed out the last tear.
“Oh damn,” sighed Roger, gleaming over his success. Shit! He had them now. Get a woman in tears and she loses all rationale. Now was the time to snap it to them; they’d be putty in his hands, their will broken, ready to be molded to his wishes. “... I didn’t mean to make you cry, but this is a serious matter. Christ, I can’t count the number of young girls who’ve lived in this building — just out of school, away from home for the first time, thinking they’ll come out to old SF and teach the world tricks.” He shook his head negatively. “Life ain’t that way, girls. It ain’t that simple.”
“But… but we’ve tried looking for work. Honest we have!” Chris’ ivory white forehead was wrinkled with a solemn plea for mercy. “We’ve spent all the money we had on bus fare and God, I even sacrificed my last dollar for a pair of stockings to go to a crummy interview — and I didn’t even want the job!” She looked pleadingly into Sandy’s tear-blurred eyes. Sandy nodded in acquiescence.
“Really,” she moaned in her flirtatiously childish manner, the expression on her face one of a hungry orphan begging for a bowl of rice. “It’s not that we haven’t tried or don’t have any brains. God, we both graduated from college and… and I speak Spanish and Chris speaks French.” She shrugged her shoulders and spread her hands entreatingly.
“Spanish, you say?” Ah, ha, mused Roger silently, stroking his full mustache with glee. This was the opener. “French?”
The girls nodded simultaneously.
“Hmmm… I might be able to help you… that is, if you really want a job.” He continued pacing, one hand thrust into his polyester suit pants, the other still working on his mustache, while his brown eyes clicked off the dollar signs. The surreptitious landlord glanced over at the rentees to see them sitting up straight, ready to take orders. “Naw. You girls went to college huh? What were your majors?” His eyes sparkled as they probed every inch of feminine flesh… two hundred a nights worth.
“I majored in art with a double major in French, and Sandy majored in modern dance and speaks Spanish… she’s part Spanish, you know,” the spokesman assured.
“You girls ever worked in crowds of people? I mean have you ever been hostesses or tour guides?”
“No,” answered Sandy, somewhat disconcertedly.
“But we can try!” Chris blurted.
“I… I don’t know…” Roger made a turn at the mantle and rested his elbow on the chipped paint and stroked his neck with that hand. “You’d have to spend time around men… many of them foreigners.” He smacked his lips and shook his head. “Maybe you’d be better off trying the lunch counters down town…”
“No, wait a minute! Tell us more about this job,” implored Chris, sitting on the edge of the sofa now, ablaze with interest, desperate for a break. The prospect of going back to Detroit was about as appealing as making love to an elephant.
“Okay,” Roger confronted them in his military stance, arms behind his back, legs spread. “I have some friends who own a tour guide business downtown… old buddies of mine from the army. They make contact with the bus guide tours and instead of sending everybody out in buses they take them out sometimes singly, sometime in pairs. What they need is somebody to chaperone the guys, somebody who can speak Spanish or French… adds a little class, you know.”
Sandy’s eyes sparkled. It was a dream come true, but Chris looked puzzled, her face still mirroring her concern over the money and the way her landlord kept stealing peeks down the gaping front of her bathrobe. She yanked it shut tight.
“So what do we have to do?”
“Simple. You go out to dinner with the guys… there will be wives along sometimes,” he admitted with a sly smirk. “You impress the guy by ordering in another language… that’s always worth a tip, especially from businessmen who are out to impress some client… then you hop a cable car and take ‘em to the wharf maybe… out for a couple of drinks, tell ‘em about the landmarks of the city — how Golden Gate Park used to be a sand pit, and everything east of Market Street is landfill… you know. Little bits like that. Mostly you just play nice to ‘em and they treat you well.”
“I don’t know,” said Chris, biting on her lower lip nervously. “Sounds kinda fishy to me… almost like… like, well, you know.” She turned to read the expression on her roommate’s face. “What do you think, Sandy?”
Marvel-eyed, Sandy shot a beaming grin at the landlord. “I think it’s great! When do we start and how much money will we make? I’ll have to get my clothes together for this!”
Roger looked a little perplexed, but at the same time he was relieved. He knew if he could persuade Chris, he’d have it sacked, but she was the cautious one, he noted. “What about you, Chris. How do you feel about it? I know it’s not what you expected to do with a college diploma, but it’s the best I can offer. Besides, the foreign tourists in San Francisco have a lot of class.” He studied her unmoved expression. “Well, I know you’d rather sit in an office for eight hours a day, but…”
“Let me think about it,” broke in the blonde haired roommate. “I want to think this over.”
Sandy wrinkled up her nose and tugged Chris’ bathrobe sleeve, her eyes on Roger as she whispered into Chris’ ear: “Come on, it’s no big thing. We’d at least be able to eat and get out to see the city.” Pulling her bathrobe tight around her, and letting the bath towel unwind with a vigorous shake of her head, Chris stalked off to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It seemed cheap somehow, going out with a man you’d never seen before. Why, it was the closest thing to prostitution she’d ever imagined herself coming in contact with. She closed her bedroom door behind her.
One room away, Chris could hear Sandy’s throaty voice apologizing for her roommate’s abrupt response. “Don’t pay any attention to her, she’s just very upset today,” she heard Sandy explain.
Roger returned: “Okay, you girls think it over and come down to my apartment tonight and tell me what you want to do. Remember, I still have two months rent to collect and this letter from the foodstamp office is nothing to scoff at. It’s serious business… could cost you both a lot of money and time behind bars if you’re not careful. I’m just trying to help you out, is all. I’ve got my responsibilities too.”
Sandy caught his arm before he reached out to open the door. “Just one thing,” she said hesitantly. “Does this mean we have to go to bed with the men?” Her eyes sparkled and the landlord read the message loud and clear.
Dropping his hand to the doorknob he rested it there and said, “If you do, it’ll earn you a bunch more, that’s all I can tell you.”
When he left, closing the door behind him, Sandy leaned up against the hardwood door, her eyes smiling for her. No use giving away what you can charge for, she resolved and headed for Chris’ bedroom for a long, practical talk with her best friend of four years.
*****
Roger’s apartment was on the second floor in the back where his living room window overlooked a small rose garden in the middle of the concrete stone maze of apartment buildings and garages. It was the only apartment with such a view, blessed in its solitudinous location and free of traffic noise. Best of all, it had an exceptionally large living room, good for entertaining and business combined.
Tonight, though, he didn’t need the rose garden. Tonight was that certain lucky moment every man dreams of but seldom finds. Christ, what a girl, what a hell of a woman!
“Mmmmm… that’s nice, honey, nice and deep,” came the hoarse whisper through the darkness. Sandy’s levis, blouse and underclothes were strewn haphazardly on the floor beside the couch, and her long trim legs were cocked back at a forty-five degree angle, flattened back hard against her chest, smashing the firmly swelling mounds of her young breasts beneath her own thighs.
Roger was half on his knees and half arched off the sofa, supported on his feet and palms, his long pulsating hard cock buried deep in the dark-haired girl’s belly, stretching apart the warm hungry lips of her cunt as he flexed the head of his huge fleshy length far up in her womb.
“Oh, yes, yes,” she moaned, “God, you feel so good inside of me!”
He smiled a little to himself and tightened his loins, jerking the heatedly bulging head of his cock deep up inside the hot moistness of her cunt, bringing a grateful moan to her ovalled lips. He flexed the rigidly throbbing thickness again and the young girl gasped in pleasure as the enormous instrument probed the previously untried depths of her cuntal passage, far up inside her belly. Other shrill cries escaped her lips as the powerful landlord began a slow revolving motion with his pelvis and her hotly seeping cuntal cavern gradually became accustomed to this thick invading prick stretching her to the limit. He pushed his pelvis tight against her upturned, wetly-glistening pussy and ground his cock deeply into her, expanding the still-quivering walls until her moistly warm pussy fit his massive cock as though it had been a custom-made glove.
Roger reached past the nakedly writhing body of the black haired girl and yanked at the cords of the draperies, pulling them further apart so that the room was bathed in a fine glow of moonlight over the rose garden that outlined each one of the warm, smoothly gleaming curves. The naked girl’s translucent skin glowed like an ivory statue of a Goddess and her softly fleshed breasts were two alabaster mounds, capped with a little brown nipples, hard and throbbing, as Roger thrust his long, hard manhood deep into the hungrily clasping sheath up between her wide-spread legs. Sandy’s eyes were closed, her teeth tightly clenched, and her face distorted from the delicious torment of his rigidly thick organ in her eager young cunt.
Afraid to believe his eyes, the landlord ran his sweating palms over the girl’s naked flesh, rubbing lewdly the moonshaped firm cheeks of her supple buttocks as his fingers delicately probed the hair-lined cuntal lips tightly clamped around his impaling cock. His fingertip flicked tentatively at her tightly puckered little anus as his hand eased between their sweat-soaked bodies; his finger pressed painfully against the opening, then suddenly popped through the tiny nether ring and wormed deeply up into the soft rubbery flesh inside her rectum. It moved around, expanding the small hole until the palm of his hand lay flattened against her yielding ass-cheeks, his whole middle finger sunk all the way up inside the forbidden little tunnel.
Roger simply couldn’t believe his luck. This was just too much for any man! Just an hour ago, he’d been sitting quietly, sipping his bourbon and water, cautiously laying out the details of his plan for those two girls up on the thirteenth floor… and now this! Damn, he’d had his share of women, but never a hot little bitch like this one. Christ, she’d practically torn his pants off trying to get at his cock, licking it, nibbling at it as though it were food and she’d been starving for a week! And now, hell, she was hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July.
He began a hard rhythmic fucking motion in and out of Sandy’s moistly stretched pussy, thrusting forward mercilessly from his arched backstroke and battering her writhing body back hard against the sofa cushions, all the while continuing the relentless plundering of her anus with his rigid finger, slowly pistoning it in rhythm with long, skewering thrust of his lust-distended cock, bringing loud sobbing gasps from her half-opened lips in time with agonizing tempo of his finger and his cock fucking her at once. He could feel the hardness of his cock through the thin fleshy membrane between her cuntal and anal channel as he rammed into her again and again; his finger, plundering her hopelessly stretched little asshole, rubbed along the whole throbbing length of his prick as it wetly slithered deep into her cunt.
Sandy was enjoying every delicious second of it — through a series of unusual circumstances, she’d been without a man for two days now, and nothing on earth could have felt better than this, the blood-boiling ecstasy of a long, hard male cock fucked deep into her craving young belly. That was the way she liked it, and the harder and bigger it was, the better. Being fucked by a man like this was always brought out those suppressed masochistic urges she kept hidden in everyday life and lying flat on her back like this, absolutely naked and helpless, she could let those shameful desires and passions run rampant through her writhing body, could pull her knees back tight against her breasts and savor wondrously the deep, burrowing thrusts of a man’s cock far up inside her moistly heated cuntal passage. Roger was very well-hung, and she liked that most of all in a man, and now, nothing else mattered…!
One floor above, someone was thinking identical thoughts. Margaret Sorenson plumped up her feather pillow for the fourth time that night and peeled up the afghan that sat folded at the foot of her man-empty bed. Already she’d taken one Sominex, and it had done nothing but depress her and make her feet tingle with a strange, drugged sensation. And it was late, the clock warned, as she finally sat up in bed and flicked on the night lamp beside her bed, standing next to the photograph of Sandor.
With a groan of self-loathing, she lovingly picked up the metal framed photograph of her deceased husband. He stood on a pier, a huge oceanliner behind him; it was taken in 1968 when she and Sandor got off the boat to face their destiny in America. How happy and vibrant he looked! Margaret blinked back the tears, bit into her lip and put it back to its bedside grave.
What would dear, wonderful Sandor think if he knew that at that very moment she lay in bed lonely and anguished… for the want of another man! A man who had given her his love with promises for more, and then carefully avoided her.
She wailed, covering her face with her hands, a wave of remorse washing over her as she struggled to keep from going to Roger’s door and pounding angry fists against it. Where was the love she needed so badly? She’d done everything she could to please him — cooked for him, cleaned for him, and… and oh my God, he realized she’d done that too. She’d had oral love with him.
No! Her Swedish pride screamed a shaking finger at her. She couldn’t go down there and embarrass herself in front of him. But damn! Roger was all she had now, and she couldn’t stand to lose him too. Instead, she would take another sleeping pill, count sheep, and cry herself to sleep. But never, never would she humiliate herself in front of him.
The pill sipped easily down her throat and she turned off the lights…
One floor below, Sandy’s hips were moving with a savage rhythm now, grinding up against her landlord’s hairy loins with increasing speed as he stepped up the dual pace of his cock and finger ravaging both hot hungry holes down there between her quivering legs.
“Yes, yes, Goddamn it yes! Fuck me, oh, shit, yes. Fuck me, darling!” she cried, squirming her body lewdly around beneath Roger’s pelvis, knocking the sofa cushions askew in her mindless passion.
The wanton young girl opened her eyes… she could see the clear unmistakable silhouette of a man hovering over her, but the face was a blank shadow. She raised her neck slightly, looking down between her upturned thighs and saw the long, glistening shaft of his hardened cock sliding easily in and out of her wildly quivering cunt. A cold chill raced along her spine as he thrust his hips forward, driving the thick gleaming pole up into the hot wetness of her tightly clasping tunnel. It didn’t matter that his face was invisible; in fact, it almost seemed right… she needed a man, any man, his face was of no importance. What she needed — what she yearned for — was buried deliciously now up between her smooth bare thighs.
The ecstasy soon reached a bone-shattering peak. “Oh, God, yes, don’t stop! Fuck me like this forever, baby! Don’t stop! Yes, oh yes, fuck me!” She grunted her words into the chill darkness, grinding her naked young ass up against him faster and faster, trying to keep up with the monstrous pole of hot flesh that was skewering her like a heavy hunk of meat, pounding its long way deeper and deeper up into her belly with a frantic, animal tempo.
It was impossible to keep up the heated pace any longer; she felt too Goddamned good. Roger could not hold back another second, and he took one lustful look at the abandonedly writhing young brunette pinned helplessly beneath the weight of his body and began fast, pushing thrusts that buried his powerfully pulsating prick right up to the pubic hairs on his pelvis with each and every deep, skewering lunge. Faster and faster he pounded, far up into her hot raging little belly, every muscle tensed, sweat dripping from his chest and thighs, faster, harder, deeper…
“No, no, please! Wait! Please wait just a little longer…!” Sandy cried, as she realized he was about to cum. But it was too late, for Roger’s lips parted and a long low groan of relief escaped as his sperm-swollen balls heatedly pumped spurt after spurt of white hot cum deep into her quivering cunt. The brunette girl ground her frantically writhing loins up tightly against his pelvis in a futile attempt to halt the warm flow, but she was betrayed by her own eager cunt which hungrily milked his jerking cock, until every last drop of his viscous load was sloshing deep up inside her passion distended womb.
Roger pulled himself off the still squirming girl, his cock slithering wetly from her heated depths as the thickly bearded pink lips of her cunt reluctantly released their prize. A thin string of white stickiness hung momentarily from the tip of his limply dangling cock before it fell onto her smooth unblemished thighs.
Sandy lay quietly, at least as quietly as she could considering the sexual turmoil churning in her loins, as Roger stretched out beside her, his prick lying uselessly between his wide-spread thighs. Her full young breasts rose and fell rapidly as she gasped for breath to fill her passion-emptied lungs and still the flames of undiluted passion raging uncontrollably in her cunt — a scorching inferno of unfulfilled animal desires that still painfully awaited relief. Without any conscious effort, as if in a dream and she was alone with no one to witness her shamefulness, her own hands began to ease slowly along the flat expanse of her belly, drawn as if by magic to the fluffy little vee between her thighs. The fingertips of both hands brushed lightly over the puffy hot lips of her wetly hungry crevice, and a jolt of excitement shot through her torso as she began caressing the incredibly sensitive folds. One outstretched slender finger slipped inside the sperm soaked opening as if it had a mind of its own, and she could feel the softly moist walls close involuntarily around the invader, hungrily gasping at anything to fill the painful void.
She jerked her hand away quickly as she felt the sofa move ever so slightly; and she saw Roger kneeling at the other end, still completely naked, his long penis clutched between the clenched fingers of his left hand like some menacing weapon at the ready. Above her like that in the nearly blackened room, he towered over her like some medieval giant. She couldn’t take her eyes off his rubbery cock, and he watched her, pleased with himself, as she kept her attention focused on the fleshy pole dangling from his wet, hair-covered loins. As she stared, mesmerized, it began to swell, only a little at first, in a tiny quivering crawl, then more, in pulsating movements of new growth as the momentum of desire grew stronger within him.
“You don’t have to play with yourself, baby. I’ve got all the cock you can handle,” he lewdly grinned. “Now turn over like a good little girl, and I’ll show you what I mean…”
Sandy rolled over obediently on the couch, smearing the sticky trail of sperm from her thighs onto the sofa cushions. She lay quietly on her stomach, waiting for him to tell her what to do; she knew men like to give the orders, and she didn’t mind obeying, particularly if it meant another taste of that magnificent penis. Anyway, she’d always liked it dog-fashion from behind; on her knees the penetration seemed even deeper, and that was perfect as far as she was concerned…
Twenty minutes had passed in that lonely, rucked up bed with only Margaret’s mature body messing it up with tossing and turning. Her mind was like a movie camera, clicking off mental images of herself with Roger last night. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for an instant replay of that wonderful, wonderful cock of his in her hungry mouth. It had felt so good. She’d give anything to have it there right now!
Why not? her tranquilized mind asked. Why not go down there, knock on his door and offer her mouth for his pleasure. The Swedish pride melted with hot desire. Yes, yes, damn it, she would do just that. All he could do was refuse, and she believed, needed to believe that Roger would never refuse her. He was her man.
She slipped out of bed, pulled her robe over her floor length nightgown and ran a comb through her hair and, opening the window, for a breath of fresh air, drew in a deep breath for courage, and left the door slightly ajar after her…
“Now kneel,” Roger commanded, grabbing impatiently at her hips and helping her to her knees. She rested panting for a moment on all fours, her firmly rounded young buttocks shoved high and vulnerable in the air, waving temptingly before him like a flag before a maddened bull. In the dim light, he could see that the moistly pouting little lips of her pussy were puckered in invitation as she leaned forward, resting her head on the opposite arm of the sofa, her softly fleshed little ass jutting up at him completely unguarded and available to use as he wished. Sandy’s reddened eyes were glazed with the ravishment her body had endured, and her pulse quickened at the thrilling prospect of this man’s steel-hard cock imbedded once again deeply inside the hungrily quivering walls of her pussy.
Suddenly, her dream-like anticipation was shattered as she felt the insistent probing of Roger’s fully erect cock at her backside… not at the moist, eagerly waiting lips of her cunt, but at her anus!
Uncertain, she waved the trembling half-moons of her roundly fleshed buttocks back at him, feeling the blunt, swollen head of his cock pushing in against the tiny puckered hole of her rectum.
“Roger, darling, not there, please,” she pleaded, not knowing of her landlord’s fetish. “You’re too big. You’ll split me in half!”
There was no answer from Roger, but in the fleeting instant before the searing pain blanked her thoughts completely, she was certain she heard a muffled chuckle from somewhere behind her. His only other response was immediate and to the point… with a grunt, he shoved his powerful loins forward increasing the already intolerable pressure against the tightly clenched little rectum.
Abruptly, without warning, the anal ring bent inward — hot hotly throbbing thick pole invaded her tiny rear passage in one vicious lunge and almost a half of the long rigid length of his cock disappeared up into her hideously stretched anal mouth.
Sandy attempted to crawl forward, yelling in surprise and agony, “Awwwww, please! You’re hurting me! It hurts, pull it out. Please, Roger, please!”
“No, baby, I’m not going to take it out… but you’ve got the tightest asshole I’ve ever felt.” He laughed lewdly and grabbed the fleshy rims of her hips like a couple of handles and forced her frantically thrashing buttocks back against him with all his strength, gasping in pain himself as his massive staff sank to the hilt in the warm anal passage. His balls swung forward and slapped against her dripping wet pussy, brushing ever so gently against the sensitive ragged lips just below the obscenely-stretched rim of her rectal lips, where his pole-thick cock was plundering her mercilessly.
He gripped her so tightly that the tortured girl was unable to jerk away from this incredible agony. It was as if the blunt end of the softball bat had been somehow rammed up between her open buttocks, shoved far up inside her belly until her stomach tightened with nausea from the excruciating pain…
With her ear to the door and her knuckles white from knocking, Margaret Sorenson clutched at her bathrobe with the other hand, her mind reeling with confusion and a drug-induced stupor. He was in there, she insistently reasoned, but he wasn’t answering the door. Maybe he had fallen asleep in front of the television set, she hoped, grasping at air. She didn’t, couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t let her in if he were at home. No, that would be too painful to believe. Margaret set the door arattle with one final knock, before padding down the hall in her fleecy slippers, her head downcast and her spirits plundered. She took the carpeted stairway — faded and worn through to the burlap lining, half dragging herself up the stairs to her apartment and there opened the window and slipped out to the fire escape. Roger’s living room window was accessible from the fire escape, she knew from past experience.
The metal was cold on her feet, even through her slippers. Carefully, she guided her hand along the icy railing and descended down one flight of barred steps that cut into he tender feet. As she neared Roger’s living room window she could plainly hear moaning sounds. Yes! He was watching television. Her spirits soared until she was close enough to peak in. The she saw it — graphically.
“Oh, please, please, Roger, pull it out! I can’t take it any more… please, I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll suck your cock, do anything, please, but not this, I’m splitting apart!”
The words sunk into Margaret’s consciousness like a brandished sword. Closing her eyes against the tear-inciting sight, she watched as Roger, her man, fucked a young girl in the buttocks. A clammy hand flew to Margaret’s mouth and she stood on the fire escape reeling, holding onto the railing for fear of loosing her balance. The emotional pain seared her heart, and a growing ball of nausea swept over her body, warming her stomach, then her throat. When it hit her, she couldn’t hold back. Bracing her arms on the lifeless railing, she let the sorrows, the loss, and the agonies of a lost love spill over the railing to the empty streets below. A figure in the night, she pulled herself up to the third floor where her lace curtains danced in the window, inviting her to her self-chosen solitude.
Tomorrow she would think about what she had seen. Tonight she must rest. Margaret put her robe to rest on the bedpost and slipped into the cold sheets, then picked up the picture of Sandor and kissed it before turning off the light…
Down below the lewd vignette continued. Roger was deaf to Sandy’s pleas, his eyes were wide with astonished disbelief as he watched his thick white cock slide back and forth, first back until just the swollen tip alone remained between the tightly stretched band of her anus, then forward again, inch by throbbing inch, until all of his long hard shaft was nestled deep inside her hotly constrictive hole. The feeling was incredible! It was as if a warm hand covered in soft brown velvet had grabbed his throbbing penis and was pulling it far up inside the helpless girl’s belly.
Like a man possessed, he rammed his rock-hard rod of flesh home harder and harder, pushing aside the tender pink walls of her rectum as he shoved his massive cock as far as it could go up into her heatedly quivering belly. As if torn by demons, he plowed into her backside again and again, his whole body trembling with the fury of his unnatural lust.
But for Sandy, something weird and wonderful was happening, a change was taking place that was transforming this barbarous act from excruciating pain into a wildly exciting delicious pleasure. Slowly, her pain and fear were being replaced with the overwhelming feeling of total and absolute subjugation, total ravishment at the hands of this near-stranger. The mental picture of her quivering young buttocks being so ruthlessly plundered incited spasm of forbidden pleasure throughout her nakedly writhing body. The unanswered hunger in her belly began to rage out of control again, and she started to undulate her buttocks in tiny teasing circles, squeezing with her strong rectal muscles at the impaling shaft imbedded so hotly inside her, milking eagerly at the long fleshy cock savagely boring into her from behind. She wanted to drain it, to fill her heretofore virginal little anal orifice with this man’s seething load, to feel his hot sticky flood fill her rectum until cum ran in torrents down her sweat-soaked thighs. She had never been sodomized like this before; always, somehow, she had been able to talk her way out of it, whenever one of her lovers had suggested it.
Tonight, though, she had regretted ever having had second thoughts in the past, for she was wallowing in the wild intensity of this delicious pleasure-pain, savoring every second of the delectable torment he was inflicting on her ravaged back passage. The writhing young girl tightly clenched her buttocks, intensifying the masochistic thrill that had taken control of her body.
Nothing mattered now except this, nothing but this long hard pole of masculine flesh that was bringing her such incredibly wanton ecstasy. God, she wanted its hot load inside her! She wanted to feel its scalding warmth flooding her very intestines with an unending torrent of life-giving sperm until it sloshed in her belly and ran through every pore of her naked body in gushing rivers of wicked pleasure.
And an instant later, Sandy’s erotic fantasies were fulfilled as Roger suddenly let out a loud grunt and his enormous cock rammed far, far up into her ravaged rectum. Almost immediately, she felt the awesome wave of her own orgasm, so long in coming, sweep over her, bringing an anguished moan to her lips.
“Aaaaggghhhh, God, yes! Aaawww!” she wailed loudly, her savage moans filling the darkened room and reverberating from the walls as, suddenly, his wildly jerking penis grew even larger and began spewing its white hot load deep up into her hungrily clasping back passage. His cum ricocheted heatedly around inside and spurted from the ravenously sucking hole to stream in a thick white river down the young brunette’s firmly trembling thighs, soaking his own balls as they slammed tightly in the sopping wet crevice beneath her wide-stretched anus. The oozing liquid flowed warmly down over his leathery testicles as they continued to lightly brush against the glistening lips of her pussy. Violent shudders of excitement ran through her naked body as her orgasm built, crested and intensified.
“Aieeee… I’m cumming,” she shrieked. “Oh, God, fuck harder, I’m cumming!”
Sandy screwed her buttocks tightly back against the still spewing cock buried deep in her flooded rectum and abruptly, as a loud scream burst from between her clenched teeth, she felt her whole body explode with the pricks of a million red-hot needles as his last punishing thrust took her up, up, and over the brink into a chasm of complete ecstatic pleasure. Her strength was suddenly gone, and she fell forward on the sofa as his long glistening cock slipped with a lewd wet sucking sound from the fist-like, grip of her tightly clinging rectal walls. She shivered once more as the cool air swirled around and up inside her unplugged, still dilated opening, chilling her very insides with the cold blast.
Roger weakly collapsed on the floor beside the sofa with a gasping moan that seemed more of relief than of pain, amazed that his body had not come to pieces and exploded from the fury of the last few minutes. He lay very still beside her, his hand resting on her nakedly trembling thigh as she heaved and gasped for breath, and for a long while, there were silent.
*****
“It’s damned good, money, sugar,” said Roger, dressed now except for a shirt. Sandy was lying on her naked back smoking a cigarette, pondering the amenities of Roger’s proposed career for she and Chris. She looked totally refreshed and renewed, like an entirely new person, glowing with the special radiance that comes to a woman when she’s been really and truly satisfied by a man. And satisfied she was, not remembering when she’d enjoyed a fuck since she was twelve… but no, her mind protested. She shouldn’t think about that.Roger played with one taut nipple. “Baby, we could make a fortune. Hell, it’s not prostitution anyways. It’s going out on dates, that’s all. With my connections and your ass, we could make a couple thou’ a month. And you won’t have to rely on foodstamps,” he laughed.
“Sounds good to me,” smiled Sandy. “But you’re going to have a hard time convincing Chris. Chris has always followed the straight and narrow, but don’t get me wrong,” she immediately filled in. “Chris is a great girl, my best friend and I don’t want to lead her into anything that she’ll regret later.”
“Simple enough. We put her up with the mild ones until she gets used to it. Then we’ll turn her on to something that’ll make her want a little more… if you know what I mean.”
Sandy didn’t reply, just stared at the lit end of her smouldering cigarette. “Okay,” she grinned in her impish way. “I’ll talk to Chris tomorrow. But let me tell you this. She’s always stuck by me and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“No sweat,” reassured Roger with a tweak of her right nipple.
Eleven stories above, Chris O’Brien lay in her bed, trying to sleep despite the deafening din of the buses and traffic outside of her bedroom window. Minutes later she sat upright in bed, hearing the familiar midnight sound of Sandy turning her key in the lock and listening to the footsteps shuffle in the direction of her bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp in time to see Sandy emerge through her door.
“We’re going to be out of debt in no time,” giggled Sandy, collapsing on her roommate’s bed. “And we start tomorrow night!”
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