Nasty sharon



Greed is a plague of mankind. Whether it is an inherent or acquired condition makes no difference at all. What man or woman can say that he or she has never once been greedy? It makes many accountants into executives, and a lot of soldiers into emperors. It has its place in all walks of life and all strata of society -- from politicos to playboys, from pimps to pushers.

Is it greed that drives oil companies to exploit the consumer, or should Americans believe their one-minute, boob-tube messages that they must raise prices in order to survive the cost of finding more oil? Is it greed that makes a corporate executive blackmail his superior in the hopes of promotion, or is it ambition?

Sharon Wilson has defined her greed as "wanting more than one's proper share". She is willing to do anything to get ahead in life -- even if it means giving her body to any person who can help her advance.

NASTY SHARON is the story of a woman who has enough but yearns for more. A story too typical of today's society.



CHAPTER ONE

Sharon sighed with pleasure, tingling sensations racing through her cunt, as her brother soaped her breasts.

She lay in a tub of warm water under a blanket of bubbles like whipped cream. Using washcloth and soap, Buddy had opened two holes in the white blanket, baring her rosy tits.

He slowly laved the floating sphere of her left breast. It kept bobbing away from his touch, but his caresses caused the nipple to harden.

Deep inside, Sharon felt a vaginal fluttering that made her want to arch her back and raise her seething split to his touch. But she restrained the urge.

Buddy whispered, "Sis, your boobs float."

She almost giggled. Was he just learning, at age eighteen, that tits floated? Well, he had only this week arrived home from military school, where the boys saw females only in girlie magazines. Still, at his age Sharon had known anatomy by sight, feel, taste, smell. Sharon was twenty now, and she viewed Buddy as a child, but an unusual child.

He knelt on the bathmat, leaning over her. He was baby-faced, with brush-cut blond hair. She wished his hair could grow out to yellow curls of hippie length. He would look adorable. But his summer vacation would be too short, and in the fall the military school would again shear his golden locks.

A hint of pale-colored hair on his chin served for beard. He looked so young that Sharon almost regretted having conned him into bathing her.

She was holding her hands out of the water. A strip bandage crossed each palm, supposedly hiding the bums from a hot kettle. A lie, but a white lie. He had to lose his cherry sometime.

Below the chin fuzz he seemed adult. His nude torso was husky, and the chopped-off jeans he wore as shorts contained a cock Sharon would not believe real if she had not yesterday seen him jerking off. She had watched him pull a prick worthy of a pony, a shiny pink curved rod that in her inflamed vision had seemed larger than her own forearm and fist.

He was fingering her nipples, bending them to test their resilience.

He choked, "Sis, they're really big! I've seen how they stick out in a bathing suit, but I never figured they were so long. Are other girls' knobs like this?"

"Buddy, haven't you ever seen a girl's breasts?"

"Well, sometimes a chick wearing a halter leans toward me and I catch a look. But usually they have little buds, or just pink puckered spots."

"Stroke them, Buddy."

His fingertips drew circles on the aureoles and Sharon squirmed. A ribbon of heat was writhing in her belly. She glanced over the rim of the tub at his crotch. The denim fabric was stretched by the force of his erection. His cock was a salami, an began that would make any woman drool at mouth and twat. Sharon got up to see it better. A lock of chestnut hair tumbled down over one eye, a dull color compared to the flames that now seethed within her.

She gasped, "Buddy, wash my legs now."

She toed up the slippery sides of the tub, sliding her heels out on opposite rims. Her long, tapered legs gleamed golden under the dripping suds. Her snatch surfaced.

Buddy stared at the pussy hair waving like seaweed in the suds and began scrubbing her left leg.

He whispered, "Sis, you sure have a pretty body."

"I'm gad you've noticed. I've been around a long time though. Why haven't you mentioned it before?"

"But you're my sister!"

"Half-sister, Buddy. It makes a difference. Besides, Father is away so much it's like we haven't got one. And your mother and I are not really friends."

Blushing deeply, he turned to scrubbing her calf and ankle. To tease him, Sharon arched her back, raising her twat out of the water. The wetted hair flattened and clung to the contours of her plump mound and split crotch.

Buddy paused in washing her leg. He stared at her soapy loins. She saw his Adam's apple bob. Sweat broke out on his upper lip.

She spread her legs wider, kneeing the sides of the tub, then braced her heels to lift her entire split out of the suds.

She asked huskily, "Don't you want to wash my pussy, Buddy?"

His face flamed. "Sis! You mean, wash your..."

"Cunt."

He gulped, but moved the washcloth from her calf up to her thigh. His head shook as he squished the cloth over her hairy pubic mound and then between her legs. The washcloth got lost. Sharon, impatient, helped him by reaching down and fingering her mound, drawing it back, opening the hairy lips of her twat. Buddy touched her gash. His finger moved as lightly as a goldfish gulping at the yawning split, roaming the folds of flesh, stroking the swollen clitoral bud, finally finding her hole.

Groaning with pleasure, Sharon looked over the rim of the tub at his pants. The big sausage stretching the leg shimmered in her vision.

She asked, "Don't your shorts bind you, Buddy? Doesn't it hurt to have your cock cramped up like that?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Let me unzip your pants, Buddy."

She pinched the zipper tab and, with some difficulty, drew it halfway down. Drumhead-tight material stopped her. She yanked the waist snap and the shorts opened like a splitting melon. A blond ruff of pubic hair bushed out. She grasped the bent-down root of his cock, digging the whole prong out of the pants leg. Her breath wooshed out in surprise.

She hadn't realized how large it was -- an oversized cucumber, the handle of a ball bat, a war club. The feel was like clutching an iron bar embedded in concrete -- pink, taut and shiny. Swollen blue veins marked the sides of the up curving shank. But this magnificent stem was slender compared to the bulging pink knob. Would her hand cover it? Oh, the plush-soft surface! She finger nailed the split open and saw glistening flesh inside, like a tiny cunt. A drop of cream drooled out. She smeared it on the glans.

She gasped, "Buddy, it's a giant! It's the most beautiful tool I've ever seen!"

"Is it?" he asked weakly.

"Your balls, let me see your balls."

She turned to him, using both hands to tear down his pants. His testicles seemed to hang halfway to his knees, as big as peaches, in a pink scrotum. She squeezed the swollen nuts. Clinging to his stem with the other hand, she stared at the cockhead, spread out like a cobra's hood. She turned in the tub and bent to within inches of the glans.

"Buddy, I want to suck it!"

He protested, "Sis, it's not right! You're my sister!"

"Do you want me to?"

"It's not right."

"What's right is what feels good, Buddy. That's my philosophy." Elbows on the tub edge, she extended her tongue and licked the split in the end.

Buddy gave a moan that shook his body.

She tasted the white juice, then tongued around the flaring rim of the head. The flesh was so soft, yet the shank in her fist backed it with iron.

"Ahhh! Sis!" he cried.

Fisting it in both hands, she kissed the point, then forced her wet lips open on the curved shape. She licked the tip, fluttering her tongue, as she pushed onward, stretching her jaws to consume the giant knob. It was like trying to swallow an apple. From the plump tip it tapered out in all directions, except for the flatness of the glans underneath. She nibbled up those long slopes. Stretching her jaws once more, she pushed her teeth over the flare, shoving until her mouth was full, and then began a voluptuous sucking of the velvet-clad bone.

Buddy gasped, "Sis, what a blow job!"

She drew back, baring saliva-wetted pink cock, back to the head, then pushed forward, eating it in, seeing the thick trunk extended before her vision to its rooting in the huge, blond, pubic ruff.

It was a cock that would drive women ape-shit. They would pay for it, would ruin themselves for it.

Sharon was thinking of her female superiors at the Sunland Motel.

Indeed, she had a reason for seducing Buddy far beyond her own immediate pleasure. Yesterday when she saw him jerking off this massive tool, she had thought of her boss, Nancy Forbes.

Nancy would come from just looking at this cock.

If Sharon could control Buddy, his tool would serve as a lever to pry Nancy out of her cushy job as night manager of the motel. Sharon would take her place.

But what counted was now, gulping at this enormous organ, drawing back again, teeth at the rim, forcing it out with her tongue, yet clinging with loving lips to the velvety fat arrowhead, her mouth closing toward the tip until her lips formed a pecking little kiss sucking on the split.

Moaning with pleasure, she slid the saliva-wet prick along her cheek and pressed against it.

She whispered, "Buddy, have you ever fucked a girl?"

"No."

"You're going to now," she said.

Sharon stepped out of the tub into the towel Buddy held. He began drying her. She could no longer wait, but seized his cock and led him toward her bedroom.

There was no need for caution. They were alone in the house. Buddy's mother, Myra -- Sharon's stepmother -- managed a dress shop downtown. She was not due home for hours. As for their father, he was hundreds of miles away doing one of two things -- either selling jewelry or fucking some chick.

Sharon thought she had inherited her horniness from her did man, along with her red hair and her long legs. She was as tall as Buddy.

In her room she threw herself down on the bed, spreading her legs wide.

Buddy was struggling out of his tight shorts. He said, "Sis, it don't seem right, you and me..."

"It'll feel right, Buddy." Looking down her body, she saw that her white breasts stuck up like a pair of melons, sloping only a bit to the sides, tipped by red cones that in her inflamed vision seemed to pulse like neon lights.

Buddy climbed on the bed, staring at her crotch.

Her twat hair was fairly dry now, an auburn bush filling the gap between her legs, the fringes curling in russet tangles against her golden thighs.

He choked, "You sure have a hairy snatch, Sis."

"Do you dig bushy twat hair?"

He nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. Sharon slid her hand down her body and fingered her pussylips open.

He said, "Gee, Sis, your gash is so long and slick-looking, all pink..."

He moved into the fork of her thighs. Sharon's hand formed a cup, waiting for his cockhead. It nudged her palm. She turned it downward. She swabbed the velvet head on her clit. Fire shot through her belly. Groaning, she slid the huge arrowhead down her split to her hole.

"Buddy, shove in!" she choked.

He gave her a despairing look, knowing he shouldn't do this.

But a primitive male urge made his hips jerk. His cockhead jabbed into the wet portals of her hole.

She cried out in pain. It felt like a plush-padded fist rammed into her cunt.

Buddy's hands clamped on her shoulders, holding her down as he wedged the knob into her.

"Buddy, it's too big!"

She felt full, her belly stretched to bursting by the immense prick. Yet between her red pussy bush and his blond ruff she could see most of the long, curved cockstem still outside her. His hips jerked as the stem shortened. Sharon seized her knees and drew them back to straighten her twat.

"Slowly!" she cried.

He eased in. At last their crotch hair merged. The enormous prong was inside her.

She reached out to the sides of the mattress and hooked her fingers into the edges. She clung to reality in this fashion. Her cunt was filled from crotch to navel by throbbing hot iron. She could not take it. She squirmed, feeling their organs shift, the walls of her cunt stretching. She had always been a tight fit, but very juicy. Harve, at the motel, called her an easy, slippery fuck. But this enormous, meaty rod made her feel like a virgin just broken into.

Ruddy groaned, "It's so hot, Sis! Your cunt is just steamy!"

Fortunately he lingered, unmoving, savoring the squishy depths of her hot belly. This gave her time to adjust. When he at last jogged through a few short jerks, she was more relaxed and the feel of being burst open was replaced by a hot swarming of juices, then an excited inner pulsing on the moving meat.

She whispered, "Fuck me very slowly, in and out. Okay?"

She watched the dripping length slide out of her cunthair, a long curve, all outside now except the head. It returned, wedging smoothly in, driving to the depths of her belly.

As it struck bottom, Sharon's snatch grabbed the thick meat. He backed out again. Her cunt sucked loudly at the departing prick.

She was panting. Her chest heaved, tits rocking on their now uncertain foundation. Flames rolled from her belly to her eyes, and her face burned with the flush of orgasm. It spread down her throat to her tits, pinking them.

She moaned, "Buddy, I'm coming already."

"Sis, my nuts feel heavy, like a pair of baseballs. Can I shoot off?"

"Yes! Oh, yes! Fuck me, Buddy!"

"Can I fuck hard?"

"Yes! Fuck me as hard as you want!" She dug her heels into his spine and arched up to meet each thrust. Her cunt now rolled on his prick, sucking at it, clamping tight when he departed. He had stretched her, and she was joyously taking all he could deliver, each squishy slide in, each butting in the area of her navel. She heard the juicy swat of their groins, and now the slap of his scrotum into the spread of her wet ass, the slap driving a current of ecstasy up her ass. She was coming all over, like a volcano slowly spewing endless gobs of white heat that swirled to her fingertips, to her stiffened, spreading toes.

She clawed down his back to where her legs were crossed, stretched beyond digging her fingers into the hard orbs of his buttocks. She tugged him in closer, yes, deeper, getting more and more of the plunging cock. In that ecstatic moment, his prick was everything she had ever, dreamed of. It was like her fantasy of being laid by the big boss, the owner of the million-dollar Sunland Motel, Bud Connoly. It was busting Nancy Forbes out of her job as night manager, then moving into her place at two-hundred-plus per week. It was walking boldly into the Beachwear Boutique at the motel and buying that horribly expensive blue sunsuit, that tit-lifting, ass-hugging little silk-and-nylon delight. Above all, this was as good as owning that white convertible at Harris Motors, a little bomb you entered like toeing into a shoe.

Buddy croaked, "Sis, I'm coming! Coming!"

Her ass thrashed, rotating her cunt on his horse-sized cock. She became a fiery pinwheel spinning on that oiled axis. She grunted through belly surges of white heat, pulling pink taffy inside her until it stretched apart.

She felt a power she had never known. Nothing could stop her now. She was churning her cunt on the most brutal prick in Sunland. After this, everything would be easy -- seducing Bud Connoly, getting Nancy's job, then the little white convertible.

Buddy's cock stiffened as he began the long run. He howled, surprised by the explosion of cream splashing out of his organ into the suction of his sister's boiling cunt. It squirted into her. It struck like hail, like molten lead. Sharon arched up and remained quivering against him, her cunt drinking the spew of his prick.

When he at last moaned and fell on her, Sharon was far out of this world, a pool of melted jelly dreaming of his next erection.

CHAPTER TWO

Night was falling as Sharon left the small, white ranch house in which she lived and strolled toward Sunland's main drag.

She walked slowly, feeling sensual, a well-fucked woman whose big breasts quivered and swayed under her blue uniform dress. The fabric rubbed her swollen nipples. Her cuntlips squished with every step, wetting her clean panties and drawing the crotch material into the split left open by her half-brother's cock.

Oh, she felt remorse over seducing Buddy, but she easily assuaged her guilt by justifying the act.

She felt pretty sure that Nancy Forbes had a weakness for young boys. Suppose Nancy flipped over Buddy, and the big boss, Bud Connoly, caught her fucking on duty? Who would then become night manager?

Sharon arrived at the boulevard, palm-lined. Sea Avenue, which followed the contour of the beach but was cut off from it by solid rows of stores, apartment buildings, and motels. Her pace quickened. She had a half-hour before reporting to work. Ahead was Harris Motor Sales and the little white convertible she was crazy for.

Usually she gazed forlornly into the showroom at the car, like a penniless kid pressing a button nose against a candy-store window. But if she got Nancy's job the payments would be within her reach. She decided to go inside, maybe even sit in the driver's seat.

Tom Thornton, the ace salesman at Harris Motors, was a cynic, or else, he thought, a deceived innocent who thought the best of women until proven wrong, and he always was.

He had seen many a black-furred twat give lie to a blonde hairdo. And he had with great success used expensive gifts to steam open cunts that had not responded to his charm or good looks.

He hoped the redhead entering the showroom was different.

He had learned that her name was Sharon Wilson, that she worked at Bud Connoly's Sunland Motel, and that she was in love with a little white QXR convertible.

She was wearing a short, blue dress that matched her eyes. Over her shoulders tumbled a shawl of auburn hair. Tom drew in a deep breath, looking at her body -- the high-slung, wobbling tits, the fine, lithe waist, the big, swaying ass. And those long, tapered golden legs.

Tom's prick rose in a single, throbbing surge. He felt as awkward as a teen-ager when he moved toward her, for tonight she disconcerted him more than ever. She seemed to have a cat's softness of step, and something feline about her gaze, supremely confident, knowing.

Tom asked, "Can I help you?"

"That white dreamboat, the QXR, I just want to look at it and drool."

Her voice, Tom observed, was low, throaty, despite her obvious excitement.

He followed her to the car. It was ivory, waist-high, with just enough space for two people to get in.

She caressed the black steering wheel.

He said, "We have a demonstrator. It's somewhat beat up, but it's the same model. I could take you out for a run in it."

She shrugged. "That's nice of you, but on my salary I couldn't meet the payments. Not unless I get a promotion."

"Look, car prices are subject to bargaining." Her gaze swung to him; paused. She seemed to be seeing him for the first time.

The cynic in Tom said that a girl with her voluptuous body must have had experience at arranging prices.

"Tomorrow morning?"

He nodded in agreement. "I'll be here by nine o'clock. Ask at the desk for Tom Thornton."

"Thanks, Tom."

As she left, Tom wondered if she would fuck to lower the price. He hoped not. She seemed different from those twats who spread their legs on learning bow much he earned as Harris' ace salesman.

But watching her ass wag out of the place, Tom figured he had better settle for what he could get out of this redhead.

The Sunland Motel was a huge, two-story, white oval-roofed structure surrounded by lawns manicured like golf greens. Palms arched gracefully up from flower beds. Crushed coral drives gleamed in the night.

As Sharon paced up the walk to the front entrance the little white car shrank in her mind to the dimensions of a toy.

What counted was this million-dollar layout. This was the action. This was where she must become somebody big.

She entered the motel lobby, a spacious circle walled with marble. To the left was the bar-restaurant section. The restaurant was already closed off by velvet ropes. To the right was a gift store and the Beachwear Boutique, both shut for the night. The room desk was ahead, on the corridor leading to the swimming pool where Nancy Forbes was now handing a key to a young couple. Arms about each other, they moved away down the hall.

They were quickies, Sharon guessed, here to fuck for a few hours.

Approaching the desk, she studied Nancy, a full-figured brunette of about thirty, with the large, dark, lustrous eyes of a mare in heat.

But on the job, Nancy was as coldly efficient as a machine and wasted little time on amenities. "Nice evening, isn't it, Sharon?" Her tone became severe. "I have only one vacancy. Quickies in units eight, twenty-two, and forty-seven. Watch them. The moment they're out the door, change the sheets."

Sharon nodded. She knew that in a full motel quickies were pure gold.

She asked, "Where is Harve?"

Harve Keely was, like Sharon, titled assistant manager.

"He's with a rough party in twenty-eight and thirty. He's already fished one drunk out of the pool."

Nancy's voice sounded brittle and her gaze flicked nervously about. Sharon guessed that she was not strung out from motel problems but from man hunger. Nancy was waiting out her divorce.

Sharon moved to the counter and pressed the girl's hand comfortingly.

Nancy blinked back a tear. She snatched a cigarette from the pack on the counter.

Lighting it with a trembling hand she whispered, "Three more months. I can't stand it, Sharon. Every man I see could be a detective sent by my husband to trap me, to bust my divorce suit. He let me sue him for mental cruelty, but now the idea of paying alimony has gotten to him. He's decided he cares more about the money than the shame of people knowing I cheated on him. He'd do anything to catch me fucking on the side."

Sharon knew the breakup of Nancy's marriage had been triggered when her husband found her in bed with another man.

Sharon had told Buddy to come to the hotel during the quiet, empty hours after midnight.

Nancy smiled wanly and said, "Thanks for trying to comfort me, Sharon. You're very sweet."

Sharon thought, We're all very sweet, Nancy. But you became manager by stepping on people's faces. Some say you fucked with Bud Connoly to get there. And now, being up the ladder, you piss on everybody below. I'll kick that ladder out from under you, Nancy.

She said aloud, "I know how it is to have hot pants. If you really dig some guy, I'll stand guard, watch for detectives..."

Nancy opened a drawer to get a box of tissues. Sharon patted her hand reassuringly, then headed out the pool exit to check the quickies.

The pool was an immense rectangle, like many things about the motel more luxurious than was necessary. Bud Connoly bragged that it drew people from the beaches.

The near end was lighted underwater. Sharon saw faint splashes in the distant, dark section, people probably trying to prove that it could be done underwater.

She found two of the quickie rooms still occupied. But unit forty-seven was open, the key in the door. Sharon flicked on the lights and hurried to the phone.

After ringing Nancy and telling her that forty-seven was available, she tore off the rumpled bedclothes. The under sheet was soggy with sex juice. She got out fresh sheets and began making the bed.

Just then Harve Keely appeared in the lighted doorway. He was a lanky, dark-haired, grinning boy of Sharon's age. He took in the scene and moved to the opposite side of the bed to fold the sheet Sharon had flung across it, while giving her his standard greeting, a thumb pressing his nose, fingers waggling.

She laughed. "Screw you, too, Harve."

"That's an idea! Let's!"

Giggling, Sharon asked, "How're your parties in twenty-eight and thirty?"

"Strictly yuk. I dragged this paunchy drunk out of the pool -- he had his clothes on -- and took him back to unit thirty. There I found a hairy-assed guy fucking a broad who turned out to be the drunk's wife. On the other bed a couple of cunts were squirming together like worms. The drunk started to tear up the joint. The hairy-assed guy just kept on fucking. Then the drunk passed out on the floor, and his wife asked me to bang her after the hairy-assed cocksucker was done."

Sharon was choking with laughter. "Did you?"

"Hell, why? I'd rather save my prong for you."

"You sweet boy!"

"You're a good fuck, Sharon. I tell everybody that. I tell them, no matter what you think of Sharon, she's a good fuck. And an excellent cocksucker."

Still laughing, she hurried to the bathroom to check towels, washcloths, and plastic cups. A hand towel was missing. She replaced it and shortly she and Harve had the room ready for occupancy, lights out, door shut.

Outside, they, paused in the shadow of the overhang.

Sharon said, "If you're going back to the office, take the key. I'm going to make a complete tour of the units."

"Wait, Sharon." Harve slipped an arm round her waist. "I want to tell you what a delicious fuck you are."

Eyes twinkling, she cuddled up to him. "Yes, darling?"

He raised the back of her skirt and slipped a hand under her panty waistband. Slowly his fingers explored the plump globe of her left buttock.

Sharon stood stock-still. Harve's perpetual game was to tease. She had to keep her cool, no matter how sexy his caresses made her feel. The game could not go too far, at least not until about four in the morning when all the world was asleep and they had only Nancy to contend with. Then they often fucked in the employees' lounge.

Their sex games did not conceal their rivalry for Nancy's job. In fact, the teasing was a part of that struggle.

His finger now pressed down between her buttocks into the cleft, slipped in the first silky hairs, then pressed at the pucker of her asshole.

She said, "That feels nice, Harve. Not exciting, but nice. Would you like me to play with your prick?"

"I'm afraid it would steam you up, Sharon."

"Oh no, Harve. Not your thin little rod." She fingered over his thigh to the robust erection stretching his pants. She caressed the length of it.

Her hand trembled and a wave of sex heat flashed through her. She gritted her teeth. Even worse, his finger was working into her anus. Loving it, she backed onto his piercing touch.

He said, "You're hot tonight, Sharon. Want to go to the employees' lounge and knock off a quick piece?"

She backed harder, wiggling and rotating her ass. Her hand vised on the shank of his cock. Very suddenly she did want it. She needed fucking as badly as did Nancy. She should make a flip remark, display lots of cool, but couldn't. His finger was stirring up her inner juices. She massaged his prick and began jerking it off. She hated him for putting her down this way, but was saved from decision by the appearance of a couple rounding the corner of a unit toward them.

The man called, "Is that unit forty-seven? The desk girl says the key is here."

Harve groaned. He removed his hand, lowered Sharon's skirt into place, then strode off toward his drunken party.

Sharon gave the key to the new quickies. They went inside.

Leaning against the wall, she reached under her skirt and fingered her panty crotch. It was slick with cunt drool.

She and Harve were often interrupted during their fun and games. That was an accepted part of the tease. It had helped Sharon realize that sex must be used for pleasure or profit, but must never become a weakness.

But tonight was different. She tugged her panties aside and rubbed her palm on her silky mound. She fingered the juicy hair of her outer labia. Bending low, rubbing her ass against the wall of the unit, she bowed her legs, then stroked into the fiery gelatin of her split.

She heard the quickies talking inside the unit.

The woman, laughing, said, "Gin always steams my twat."

Sharon slid two fingers into her hole and thumbed the clit. She writhed against the wall. Juice was running down her leg.

She had to calm herself. Soon Bud Connoly would come to make his midnight inspection. Later, Buddy would arrive.

Maybe masturbation would do the trick. The woman in the unit said, "I always love sucking it, honey."

Sharon panted as waves of heat burned her face and her tits. Orgasm already! Her hips jerked and her legs seemed to bow out. Her twat wrung itself down to keyhole size. She lowered to a squat, thumbed her clitoris rapidly, and felt the bubble burst inside her, a scalding balloon gushing its contents on her impaling fingers.

She slumped, sat on the grass, moaning as the last hot waves throbbed out between her spread legs.

CHAPTER THREE

It was midnight, time for Bud Connoly's inspection tour.

Sharon always managed to be very busy at the lobby desk when he arrived. Tonight she had arranged two dozen room cards on the counter and was making up the early call list when she heard Bud's voice at the front entrance.

"Say, is this the Sunland Whorehouse?"

Sharon and Nancy looked up from their work, grinning.

Bud was a stocky man of forty. His hair was coal black except for gray streaks at the temples.

He wore a blue blazer and immaculate white slacks -- expensive, tailor-made clothes. Yet he did not achieve elegance. He lacked height and his movements were too brusque.

At the counter he said, "I have an itchy peter and ten dollars. What does that buy me in this cathouse?"

"Me," Sharon said.

Bud swung a square hand across the counter and mussed her hair.

Nancy giggled, "She means it, Mr. Connoly."

He leered at Nancy. "You look pretty juicy yourself, honey. Want a little action?"

He made the motion of unzipping his fly. During this horseplay his gaze swept the key boxes. Not a key in sight. His smile broadened.

He asked, "How many quickies, Nancy?"

"Three. We're keeping an eye on them. I'll have to light the no-vacancy sign if somebody doesn't move on soon."

"Nancy, the trouble with this town, people don't fuck enough. We ought to have a dozen units full of people humping away, changing off every two hours. That would make us a real dollar." He turned to Sharon and said, "Excuse me, I shouldn't use words like fuck around a young innocent girl like you."

Sharon said, "I don't mind, Mr. Connoly. I have no idea what fuck means."

He burst into laughter. "Damn you two girls are fun. Where's Harve?"

Nancy explained about Harve's drunken party.

"Is he supplying booze?"

"I gave him one bottle of watered Scotch to sell them. I said to wait until you've looked them over before he takes them any more."

"Good girl. Nancy, I'll set you up with some Scotch watered down to piss that you can sell when they're really drunk. Then you won't have to ask my opinion. Now, if this party makes big trouble, phone Chief Jenkins at his home and say to get his ass here fast. That's what I pay him for."

Watching Bud, Sharon felt a mounting excitement. Her gaze strayed to his crotch. The bulge was monstrous. She knew that even if he were not the boss she would have hot pants for this virile man. But she was equally excited by his masterly control over the motel, which grossed a thousand dollars a night in unit rentals alone. Yes, a thousand. Her little white dream car would cost only three or four days' gross.

Most astonishing, Bud kept his staff from lapping up the usual motel gravy, the multiple rentals, the sale of after-hours booze at inflated prices, and the shakedown money from hookers. She guessed that Harve sometimes added five bucks to the set booze price. Sharon and Nancy were frightened to death of such practices, afraid Bud might send in a colleague feigning drunkenness to test them.

Sharon knew that if Bud said fuck, she would spread her legs. But damn him, he was faithful to his wife, Lita.

Finally he moved off in the direction of Harve's party.

Sharon's gaze slanted at Nancy. She saw that the other girl was flushed and biting her lip.

She whispered, "Nancy, do you have hots for Bud?"

"It's getting so that any man... Well, I'm too emotional."

"He's not your type?" Nancy shook her head.

"What kind do you dig most?"

"Blond men. Younger than Bud."

As though realizing she had said too much, she bit her lip hard and turned to her paper work.

Blond men. Younger. Buddy, Sharon thought, smiling secretly.

Bud had gone home to the embraces of Lita, a lovely little blonde a great deal younger than himself.

Sharon wondered about the Connoly's sex life. Gossip said Nancy had become manager by shacking up with Bud, but Sharon doubted it. She herself had tried every way of seducing him short of tearing his fly open. He had always fended her off with his cheerful, bawdy jokes.

His wife, Lita, was a strange number. Sometimes Sharon thought the woman gazed at her with lesbian eyes.

Buddy had to arrive pretty soon. Sharon's tension mounted. Unable to remain still at the desk, she set out to patrol the quickies, going by way of the drunken party.

Lights still glowed in units twenty-eight and thirty but there was no noise. She saw Harve leaning against a palm tree, arms folded.

She whispered, "I'm checking quickies. You coming along?"

"I better watch this gang a while longer."

She did not argue, but simply walked off using body language, rolling her ass. Soon she heard Harve's leather soles scrape the tiles behind her.

The quickies were still busy. She continued on to the employees' lounge. There Harve caught up.

The common room of the lounge contained armchairs and writing desks. Doors marked Men and Women led off it. Harve grasped her wrist and opened the Men's door. He took her in and shut it. The room contained lockers and bunk beds for off-duty naps. It was dark.

Her back was to Harve. She felt his hands slip over her hips, up her waist and to her tits, cupping them. His stiff cock pressed her behind.

He whispered, "You know something? I really dig you, Sharon."

"You're just horny. Unzip my dress."

He opened it. Sharon flicked off the shoulder straps, then brushed the material down her tits, revealing the snowy swells, the caps dark in this meager light, aureoles puffed to cones from which projected the stiff nipples. Harve's fingers forked them and pressed her breasts back on themselves.

Sighing deeply, Sharon squirmed her backside against his rigid prick.

He said, "Sharon, the trouble is you don't give a shit for me because I'm no use to you. If you'd just once look at me the way you do at Bud..."

"Bud is the boss, Harve."

"Would you fuck with him?"

"You bet your sweet ass I would."

"But he's old!"

She almost laughed. Harve would never understand. Sometimes she thought his teasing sex games were cover-ups for romantic illusions.

But seeing his lean fingers knead her tits and feeling a warmth course through them, she was content. She arched her back, turned her cheek to rub his. He needed a shave. The bristles made her skin tingle. She kissed his nose.

Then she pulled his right hand from her breast and shoved it down to her crotch.

His fingers dug into her pussy. Moaning softly, she bowed her legs to make room between, then squirmed her buttocks on his stiff cock. She twisted in his arms to kiss him, and got a mouthful of strong, meaty tongue. She sucked it and felt everything connect, currents from her tit to the hand in her pussy, to the cock digging in behind, up to his mouth.

He broke the kiss, complaining, "I used to tell people you were my girl. A lie."

"But I adore you, Harve."

"You adore the main chance."

And so what? she thought. Who doesn't?

She fingered behind herself to his waistband. She unhooked it, opened his fly and seized the rigid meat.

"Ahhh!" he gasped.

She caressed the hot prong. The shank was lean, a perfect fit for her rather narrow cunt. It throbbed in her fist.

"Take down my panties, Harve."

He lifted her skirt and peeled the flimsy nylon garment down to her knees. She felt his hot meat stab into the cheeks of her ass. Panting now, she bent forward, grasping the supports of the bunk.

His long cock pressed lengthwise into her drooling trough.

Looking under herself, she could see between her hanging tits the red cockhead nuzzling her twat hair. She reached down and grasped the hot penis and tucked the head into her hole.

"I never felt such a wet cunt!"

"So fuck it, Harve!"

She backed up and gasped as the long rod curved up into her drooling twat. His pubic hair flattened on the cheeks of her ass. She pushed back, bending lower, now reaching for his scrotum. She caught it and tried to stuff a ball into her cunt.

"Don't! You'll make me come too fast!"

She released the squishy nuts and wrapped her arms around the bed stanchions, her head still hanging down, watching his balls swing up to slap her mound. She squeezed her snatch about the stiff rod and felt a little spasm, a tiny cum. She moaned loudly.

He asked, "Did you just have an orgasm?"

"Yes! A little one!"

"It felt like your cunt was trying to swallow my prick."

He began whacking, driving it into her with long, rhythmic thrusts.

Sharon found that the little cum had relaxed her. She settled down to enjoying this cleansing, impersonal fuck. It quickly dispersed her guilt over seducing Buddy.

Her cunt squished on every stroke. It began to feel like a melting cavern.

Harve said, "We better not take too much time."

"Does that mean you're coming?"

"Pretty soon. My cock feels, like a hammer handle, that long and hard."

"Wait."

She reached down her belly to finger her clit. The trouble with this position was the lack of clitoral pressure. She rolled the olive-slick bump, and quickly the palpitations of her snatch became long squeezings, stripping his pole each time it drew out, tightening when his head thrust back in to wedge her open. At the end of each stoke her cunt went loose and gushed.

Harve's groin was slapping loudly on her wet ass. "Take it!" he suddenly cried. "I'm shooting my balls off!"

Sharon erupted when his cream flew into the depths of her cunt. She felt her juice running down both legs. She groaned into the bedsheet.

Still he hammered her ass, his scrotum flying up, nuts whacking her belly. Another charge spurted into her.

Her cunt was stripping his spewing organ.

His last shot drove her into the bed, as her legs gave out. She clung for dear life as her cunt throbbed over the peak of orgasm and flopped into a slippery pink valley beyond.

Even as his strength withered, her snatch fluttered through another cum.

CHAPTER FOUR

Buddy approached the motel, trembling like a thief on a dangerous job.

The floodlit building looked enormous. When he reached the lobby entrance the walls seemed to tilt out over him, as though to swat him like a fly, crush him down into the coral drive.

Sharon had said Nancy was about thirty. Pretty old. She probably looked like a dog, though Sharon said no. Well, he had to at least make a pass at her or Sharon would never let him fuck her again, and man, that had been good, squeezing his meat into his sister's hot little slot.

It was almost three o'clock. He had sneaked out of his bedroom through the window. If Ma ever found out...

He pushed the door open, the lobby was dark except for a light in the corridor ahead. He moved in, glancing about, expecting somebody to yell at him. In military school a guy learned to stay within bounds, especially at night. The marble lobby looked classy, and he had on an old T-shirt, cut-off denims and sneakers. He felt like a bum. He should be wearing a dress uniform in this joint.

He paced silently toward the light. He glimpsed a dark-haired girl behind the counter. Dark eyes flashed his way. Nearer, he saw her shape and her big, thrusting tits. This had to be Nancy.

Her eyebrow formed a question mark.

When he spoke his voice squeaked. "I'm Sharon Wilson's brother."

Her head cocked. "You?"

He nodded, trying to swallow. She looked sort of fierce, like he had no right to be here.

She said, "I thought Sharon's brother was smaller, younger. The way she spoke..."

"I'm Buddy all right." He dodged her gaze. Into his mind flashed a saying of one of his instructors at military school. The enemy is always just as scared as you are. And seeing Nancy's gaze shift, he said, "You must be Nancy..." Bolder now, he added, "I thought you were older."

Her smile flashed. "Older than what?"

He gulped. He had run out of courage. He grinned sheepishly.

She said, "Sharon is checking out the units. She'll be back soon. Do you want to come behind the counter and sit down?"

He nodded and rounded the counter, glancing at her body as he took a seat. Wide ass. Long, sleek legs. He felt a throb in his pants.

He said, "I woke up with a pain in my stomach. I took a walk and now I feel better."

She was smiling at him. "While we're waiting for Sharon, tell me about military school."

He knew she was putting him down, like older people did, by asking him about school. It angered him. He said sharply, "Sharon told me you were pretty, Nancy. But she didn't say how sexy you were."

Nancy's face turned red as a beet.

She took a cigarette from the pack on the counter to cover up her embarrassment.

But Buddy saw a twinkle of pleasure in her eyes.

Sharon had been glancing worriedly at her watch. It was late. Where was Buddy?

As she moved up the corridor toward the lobby she heard voices, then laughter. She paused, listening intently.

She heard Buddy say, "So we stole the captain's uniform and his wife's clothes. We figured they'd have to walk home from the pond naked. It was so dark that night, we were back at the barracks before we noticed it wasn't a captain's bars on the uniform but a lieutenant's, but the dress sure was the one the captain's wife wore at the party."

Nancy burst into laughter.

Sharon smiled wryly. Little brother was apparently not as shy as she had thought. Maybe she had not been his first lay either.

Then Nancy said, "Buddy, if you really want to take a swim, we can find trunks for you. As long as you're quiet in the pool."

Sharon had heard enough. She moved down the hall, clicking her heels loudly to catch their attention. In view now, she saw the two of them sitting behind the counter, glancing over it at her, looking annoyed at the interruption.

Nancy said, "Sharon, Buddy woke up feeling ill. But he's all right now."

"And thinking of going swimming?" Sharon said. "I'll get him a pair of Harve's trunks. Come on, Buddy."

She led him to the employees' lounge. There she whispered, "Are you making any time?"

"Gosh, I don't know. But Nancy doesn't seem thirty years old. I mean, she's a lush piece."

Sharon nodded agreement, then went to Harve's locker. She had not seen Harve for an hour. Not surprisingly, he was sacked in on the bunk bed, snoring away.

She found two swimsuits, a pair of gaudy trunks and a slingshot apparatus like a jockstrap, made of nylon and almost transparent. She chose it.

She would soon learn if Nancy liked young cocks sufficiently to lose her job over one.

Nancy tried to light a cigarette. Her hands were trembling too violently to cope with matches. The cigarette broke in her fingers.

Buddy was exactly the type of teen-age boy that had ruined her marriage, an impish fuck with a cock like a flashlight.

She heard their voices, Sharon's and Buddy's, coming from the employees' lounge. Could she bear the sight of him in a swimsuit? Nancy knotted her fists, cutting fingernails into her palms. God, could she control herself?

Buddy's naked torso was solid, hairless, gold, perhaps a bit plump with baby fat. He wore Harve's strap-and-pouch swimsuit, and God, oh God, his genital bulge seemed to leap into Nancy's face, cock and balls wadded up in nylon about to split open.

She tore her gaze from him. The fireball in her panties lengthened and squeezed fully into her snatch, burning a hole before it.

Sharon's voice seemed to come from another world.

"Nancy, if you want to show Buddy the pool, I'll mind the desk."

Woodenly, Nancy replied, "All right. Then I'll tour the units."

She went outside, rubber-legged, treading on wheels. At the edge of the pool she wobbled to a halt. Surprisingly, her legs did not tumble her into the water.

"Some pool!" Buddy said, and she heard the splat of his body striking the surface, saw the splash, then water churned by his kicking feet. His wake diminished as he left the lighted section of the pool.

Was he a reincarnation of Freddy, who used to mow the lawn, and once in the basement stuck it into her standing against the washing machine? Or of Jack, who had been tightly clamped between her thighs, his prong buried in her cunt, that time her husband came home and stood gape-mouthed in the doorway?

Buddy had all the deliciously dangerous qualities -- golden hair and monstrous genitals. His smile was charmingly shy but his gaze bold. Nancy had felt it peel her dress away and burn her breasts.

She had shut her eyes, teetering on the edge of the pool. She opened her eyes and through tears saw Buddy swimming slowly toward her. His gaze raked up her legs and left them wilting. She knew he could see through her dress. She was silhouetted against the lobby lights. His stare was riveted on her soggy panties.

Her lawyer had said, "Don't even be seen talking to a man! If your husband can hang an adultery charge on you, it's good-bye alimony."

But Buddy was not a man. He was an impish wraith who had pursued her since she refused Wally Beaver so many years ago. He was floating below her and the pool lights showed his stiff prong stretching the transparent swim trunks.

He said, "Come on in, the water's fine."

Nancy's legs would no longer support her. She dropped down, sitting on the pool edge.

As she sat she felt the wetness in her panties spread over her behind. Was that oily sex lubricant seeping through her dress? Why was she sliding off the rim of the pool? Her feet were in the water and she flopped into Buddy's arms.

He was grinning at her.

He said, "I'll race you to the end of the pool."

His warm grin dispersed that terrible experience in her past.

She said, "You silly thing, Buddy! I can't race wearing a dress and shoes. You're being crazy."

Well, it was all crazy, standing fully dressed in the pool, facing a grinning boy-God, a Pan with a stiff prong.

She realized now that when she slid into the pool she had peeled off the outer layers that formed Nancy Forbes, night manager of the Sunland Motel, revealing her true self.

Laughing, she threw herself flat on the water's surface and began swimming beside the boy-God. She lost a sandal and kicked the other one off. Flailing at the water, stroking long and hard overhand, she wrenched at her dress. A breast squeezed out of the neckline. She was in the dark section of the pool, then, turning to face Buddy. He suddenly hooked an arm around her. She was kissing him, yes, feeling his hard tongue push hers aside. She sucked with fluttering lips.

After a moment she turned her head away, smiling coyly back at him. Her bared breast brushed against his hot chest. Her nipple had grown hard. And below, his stiff erection prodded her.

She asked him, "How old am I, Buddy?"

"Twenty-five? Twenty-six?"

"Wrong, silly. I'm only fifteen and don't you forget it." She kissed his throat. Yes, she had shed Nancy Forbes. She was the Nancy Barthals of long ago.

Pockets of air floated her skirt above her waist. Looking down she saw Buddy's trunks angled out by the stiffness of his penis, and, dim in this poor light, the black splotch of her pubic hair showing through her white panties. She was exposed to his view and she did not care. Nothing mattered now.

Buddy's hand cupped her exposed breast. He whispered, "You sure have big titties, Nancy."

She giggled, "For a girl of fifteen, yes."

Even in those days she had been large-breasted. But such a prude. What hell to have had protruding breasts advertising her maturity, but to be so wrenchingly afraid.

The heat of his hand on her breast made the nipple push out against his palm. It tinged deliciously. She saw his other hand, underwater, trace the line of her hip, caress her thigh, then rise between her legs. At eighteen she would have screamed. At her new eighteen she sighed with pleasure as his palm cupped her pussy. The hand stroked her. She spread her legs before his touch.

Then she reached down, found his slick leg and the swimsuit. She fingered the pouch, lifting it. The escaping cock sprang into her hand.

She gripped the fat root of it. The head touched her arm, seemingly halfway up to her elbow.

She had lost all sense of equilibrium. They were floating now, she clinging to the root of his cock, supported by the hand between her legs, given stability by the one holding her breast.

They drifted under the night sky, alone on a sea of forgetfulness, two people exploring sex on a summer night.

Perfection came when he tugged aside her panties and fingered her split.

Like that they drifted under the moon wheeling through the sky.

CHAPTER FIVE

In the women's section of the employees' lounge, Buddy and Nancy shared a towel. Drying his face, he looked over the towel at her. She was rubbing the other end across her chin, smiling at him. Her eyes twinkled in the near-darkness.

She had called herself fifteen and now she seemed it, full of giggles and roguish lifts of her eyebrows, smiles popping like bubbles, coltish tosses of her head.

Something had happened out at the pool. This could not be the austere woman who managed the motel, who had glared so sternly at him when he entered.

He drew the towel to him. She held on, smiling arid turning her head as she neared his lips. Her eyes closed. Her tongue and lips seemed to flutter against his. Her mouth was sweet and the nibbling of her lips a dainty invitation to his tongue. He thrust it in, felt hers coil and lash about it.

His hands moved to her shoulders. She palmed his chest. Their kiss lost traction. His lips slipped from her mouth to her cheek. Nancy's wet dress contacted his hot flesh. Her right breast still hung out of the neckline, a plump orb melting into him except for the hard, boring nipple.

He savored the feel of that and the warm smell of her. Her perfume was all but washed away, the remnants smothered by the musky female odor rising from her crotch.

Buddy loved this would-be teenager. The thought that Sharon meant to take her job hurt him. He knew that Sharon had put the two of them together for a purpose. Well, he wouldn't let her harm Nancy.

She whispered, "This dress feels chill."

He unzipped the back. She turned coyly from him to skin out of the wet garment. He studied the lovely curve of her back, her narrow waist, then the big white buttocks stretching her panties.

Rid of the dress, she switched back to him, hiding her breasts against his chest.

She whispered, "Buddy, I'm so happy!"

He closed his arms protectively about her. He felt overcome by tenderness. Oh, he wanted to screw her, all right. His cock burned as it stretched out and jabbed her belly. But that seemed less important than rubbing his cheek on hers, kissing her ear, and now smiling into her eyes.

He said, "I've never had a girl, I mean really a girl of my own, like she's mine because she wants to be."

"I want to be your girl, Buddy."

He kissed her. She sucked softly at his tonguetip. Then she said, "I hated having to grow up. My first boy -- Wally was his name -- he scared me. At fifteen, I wasn't ready. Still, I got mated eventually. Then my husband said I should be more mature, serious and all that. So I am. I manage the motel as well as a man could, Bud says. But that isn't me. I'm right here. Buddy's girl."

He nodded in agreement. With him she could be what she wanted. He peered down at her breasts, two large white mounds against his chest. He slipped his hands in between them, raising the luscious tits, revealing the huge dark disks and the jutting nipples.

She said, "People always thought I was older because of my big breasts. Do you like them, Buddy?"

"They're beautiful." He sank his fingers into them, kneading and thumbing the robust nipples. He grinned. Yes, they were his to play with. Because Nancy was his girl. He asked, "Can I suck them?"

He saw moisture in her dark, luminous eyes. Her throat worked, as though she was choking up. Then she nodded.

He bent down to them but she whispered, "Sit on that chair. I'll bend over you so they hang out."

He sat on the straight chair as she indicated. Nancy cupped her hands on his shoulders and went down. He looked up at a swollen aureole bigger than his mouth, at the long, thick nipple at its center, at the snowy mound extending to the limits of his vision. He licked the nipple. Nancy made a cooing noise. Her body swayed and the breast swung to one side. He followed it, licking and nibbling the nipple. It swung again. He seized it in his hands now and held it still, suckering his mouth onto it, gulping in meaty fit.

Nancy groaned. "Oh, Buddy, honey! Suck like that and tongue the nipple!"

He washed his tongue about the nipple deep in his mouth while wolfing in more tit.

She complained, "You'll stretch it, Buddy."

He sucked more gently, now eyeing the other breast. Her one hand left his shoulder and went to the other tit. Her fingers forked the nipple and began a milking movement, curling about it and pulling off while thumbing the tip.

Gasping for air, he disgorged his mouthful but quickly turned to the other, replacing her hand and sucking the point to a rigid stem.

That was when he felt fingertips feather across his cockhead. He still wore the baffling suit, pulled to the side. His prick stood straight up. It throbbed as a fingernail teased his glans. Then the touch became a vine spiraling down his length to the root, finding the one ball that hung out of the pouch, closing on it, testing the skin, returning to the upright phallus and then listing it.

He stopped sucking. Her tit fell from his mouth. Nancy groaned and lowered herself further, knees bending, sagging down until she knelt between his feet, her face turned up, mouth open, waiting for his kiss. He kissed her and felt a new urgency in the suction of her mouth, a match for the fist squeezing his cock.

Then she looked at the giant stem sprouting from her hand.

She said, "It's a terribly big penis, Buddy. Somewhat frightening."

"Because you're only fifteen years old," he grinned.

She smiled. She leaned close and kissed the tip of it. Her lips brushed it as she spoke.

"No, I'm not fifteen any more. I'd be shaking with fear. Thank God I'm a grown woman." But then she cocked her head and winked roguishly at him. "But I'll eighteen if I want!"

He laughed.

She extended her tongue and swabbed it about the knob. She turned her attention to his swimsuit, grasping the waistband and pulling them down. Buddy raised his ass and she stripped the apparatus off, stretching it over the length of his cock. Rid of it, she crouched, slipping both hands under his scrotum, holding a ball in each palm. She once again licked his cockhead and then forced her mouth open on it.

Moaning, she went don, sucking.

The swishing of her tongue, the lip-drawing, the feel of his knob in the cool wetness of her working throat, all made Buddy go rigid and jerk his hips, stabbing the mammoth cock deeper into her mouth. She took it too, and he saw her cheeks pull in and mold to the shape of his shank. All this while her fingers toyed with his nuts.

He groaned, saying, "Nancy, your sucking is so slick and oily, you'll make it grow out like a ball bat."

Her head bobbed up and down. Her drying hair tumbled darkly on his loins. One hand left his balls and fisted the stem, squeezing and jerking him off in rhythm with the movement of her head. She aroused him to such a point of sensitivity that even the silkiness of her hair trailing across his belly made him jerk with excitement.

He choked. "Nancy, stop. Save it. I want to fuck you!"

She paused. Slowly she relinquished the swollen organ, still licking it as though it were a candy cane.

Nibbling the tip, she gasped, "I'm so glad -- that you want -- to fuck me. If I were a girl... But I'm not, Buddy. Do you really want to fuck me?"

"Yes!"

She got up and kissed him, then abruptly rose to her feet and moved into the darkness at the end of the room. He saw her bend over, peeling down her panties. Then he heard the bedsprings creak.

He rose and walked toward her, feeling the iron heaviness of his cock wag from side to side. He felt like all prick, a trembling human shape with everything out in front, hot and pulsing, a third leg swaying, his whole body working to propel the yard of swollen lust that the rest of him had been created to bear.

She had made a man of him, he thought. He saw her now, lying on the lower bunk, a graceful white shape forked at the middle. Her legs spread from a dark muff, a sprawl of twat hair as big as a hat. She was smiling and her moist eyes gleamed darkly. As he stood over her she widened the spread of her legs and cocked one up. A pale hand stole down to her crotch and patted it.

"Here, Buddy. My mound will cushion your thighs. And I have space enough inside for even your big cock."

He crawled onto the bed between her legs. As he advanced she widened the spread and drew her knees back. He saw her gash open, a glistening red oval pointed at the ends, crowded by the lush, dark tangle of twat hair. Over her, he butted blindly, poking his cockhead into silky hair. On the third try he buried it in her slippery, steaming hole.

He held back, remembering how difficult it had been to wedge into Sharon's twat.

But Nancy's legs went about his waist, crushing him to her. His cock slid deeper into her oily hole.

"Push it in, Buddy! I have a big cunt! You won't hurt me!"

Her inner musculature played squishily on the knob of his cock. He groaned, sinking deeper and deeper into her sloshy split. Was it big? No. Simply a tube shaped and sized to receive his salami. In now, his loins slipping on the juicy hair of her outer labia, he gave a sigh of relief. It had been easy.

He pressed down to her and nuzzled her cheek.

She arched up, her legs knotting together behind him. Her hips jerked rapidly.

She whispered hoarsely in his ear, "Buddy, my cunt is exploding. I'm coming. Don't you come. Oh please, darling, can I come on your cock? Now?"

He felt the hard milking of her twat, squeezing and kneading his prong. He heard it squishing loudly.

She shrilled, "Just hold still, all the way in me, all that cock inside. Let me come, please let me come!"

"Come, baby," he gasped.

Her head thrashed from side to side. Her rotating hips whacked her up against him hard, and then she shrieked. "There, Buddy! My cunt is going wild!"

The bedsprings crashed once more, then Nancy's body stiffened while her twat gushed and fell open. Buddy's prick was swimming in new juice.

Her cry was a long "Ohhh!" It seemed to gut her, for she fell back, dripping sweat.

Buddy waited while she panted, trying to regain her strength.

Soon she raised and nibbled his ear, whispering, "Oh, what a fat, gushing orgasm, Buddy! Like my whole belly bloated, then broke, punctured by your lovely cock. Do you want to fuck me now, long and rough?"

"But are you ready? I mean, you just came."

"I'm still coming a little. And I won't stop. Give me more, Buddy."

He began to hump at her steaming split. She rose to meet his thrusts, twisting herself when she was full, clenching her inner cavern on it. The whole thing was easier than with Sharon because of her big hole, and he pumped lazily, grunting with joy each time he swished into her sucking twat.

Then his balls slapped hard on her upturned ass and he felt the jolt, the fire in them, and the terrific hardening of his cock.

"I'm going -- to -- come!" he gasped.

She bit his throat, his ear, and her hands clawed at his back. Her clenching thighs became a vise.

She seemed between laughter and tears when she panted, "Fuck me hard, Buddy!"

He moaned on each thrust. He felt her cunt shrink down to Sharon's size and massage his length, a sloppy hole, yet firm, straight, stretching each time he thrust down into it. Then the fire in his balls exploded.

She shrieked, "You're coming, darling! Shoot it into me!"

The bedsprings crashed as he banged away. His cock grew so long and hot that all strength was drained from the rest of his body. He was trembling all over, but his cock drove on and then the juice roared out of it, blasting into her.

He howled out his release. The whole works went, all his insides, splashing into the rolling steaminess of her hole.

Still she clung with arms and legs, with teeth fastened on his chin. She clung, still surging and milking the last drop from him.

At last she sagged down, panting loudly. Buddy slumped in her arms, feeling empty, drained, exhausted.

He seemed to fall asleep in her softening embrace.

Sharon drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter top.

Buddy and Nancy had been gone for an hour. Harve was not around. She dared not leave the room desk, yet she was on pins and needles, dying of curiosity. She had to find out.

The employees' lounge was the likeliest place for them to be. She hurried to it and crept into the central section.

Both doors were closed. She listened at the women's door. She heard faint sounds. Fisting the knob carefully, she turned it and opened the door a crack.

It was dark inside. She heard, "Buddy, your cock is so huge! Oh, honey!"

Sharon almost laughed. It had worked. That was Nancy's voice, and bedsprings were crunching loudly. If Bud were to arrive now and catch Nancy fucking on duty... Yes, that would do it.

But Sharon frowned, thinking of Buddy's luscious, fat, pink cock buried in Nancy's cunt, a cock that today had driven her into an orgasmic frenzy.

She heard Buddy say, "Your cunt is the best I ever got into!"

Sharon gritted her teeth. She was burning with jealousy. She closed the door and turned to the men's section. She entered. Harve was asleep there. She shook his leg.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

She said, "You prick, making me do all the work! Get out there and take the desk while I make a tour."

She hustled him out to the desk. Thinking rapidly now, she snatched a quickie key from a niche and dropped it into her dress pocket. It had been returned only a few minutes ago. Harve would think the unit was still in action.

She returned to the men's section of the lounge. Buddy's clothes were there. He would have to come for them. Leaving the door ajar, she waited.

Soon the facing door opened and Nancy slipped out, dressed, trying to smooth her tousled hair.

She paused and whispered back inside, "Buddy, get dressed and leave the motel by the back way. I'll tell Sharon you left an hour ago. Understand?"

Then the girl left.

Sharon gathered up her brother's clothes and waited. In a moment she heard his bare feet pad toward her. She slipped out the door, placing a finger against her lips to indicate silence. She jerked her head toward the pool exit.

Buddy, wearing Harve's slingshot bathing suit, followed her.

She led him down the row of units to the one the quickie couple had vacated. She unlocked it, let him in, and made sure the blinds were down before she turned on the light.

The bedclothes were rumpled. A wet splotch stained the middle of the bed.

Buddy said, "Sharon, you wouldn't believe how Nancy turned on! She said she had a big cunt nobody had ever really filled before..."

"That's enough about her," Sharon snapped. She was eyeing his swimsuit pouch, stretched by bulging pink meat. She hated Nancy for having milked him out. He belonged to her.

She had to make him see Nancy as simply an easy fuck, to be used only when his sister indicated.

Sharon curled an arm behind her back, unzipped her dress and flicked off the bra hooks.

"Today you made my titties sore by sucking them too hard."

She turned toward him, dropping her dress and bra, and kneaded her bulbous, rosy tits. She saw a quirky movement in his bathing suit.

"Here, feel how hot my breasts are." She advanced on him and pressed them to his wide, plump, hairless chest.

"Are they hot because they're sore? Is that what happens?" She nuzzled his throat with wet kisses on it. She hugged him and swayed, rolling her meaty breasts on his chest.

Then she fingered down his belly into swimsuit, curling her fingers around the rising loop of his cock. Even soft it was such a luscious handful of meat.

He whispered, "Sit, you don't want to..."

"Yes. Right now. Lie down on the bed."

"But, Sis, I don't know if I can after banging Nancy..."

"I'll suck hard."

She dragged him to the bed. He dropped on it. She jerked the tiny swimsuit down to his thighs, baring that wide ruff of blond pubic hair, from which his cock rose and hung in a half-hard arc. She fingered between his legs and scooped up his scrotum and squeezed his nuts.

Then she knelt over him, fisting his prick, and bent to it. She licked the big, soft head, then lipped it in, nibbling and sucking until she had the whole flab of meat in her mouth.

She felt a strange contentment. She loved her brother, and was jealous of any other woman who came near him. She had him now, his whole cock in her mouth. She slurped at it and soon it burgeoned, stiffening and growing out of her lips. She gazed at the thick prick slowly appearing, wet with her saliva.

She felt us hand slide under her skirt and tug at her panties.

She drew off his cock long enough to skin out of the nylon briefs. She knelt again and impaled her mouth on the growing prick. She sucked softly, drawing off the head on each pull.

He was fondling her pussylips. He said, "Move over this way. I want to get a good look at your cunt."

She knelt, following his guiding hand. At last she straddled him, legs wide apart, their bodies now in a sixty-nine position.

He said, "Your split is open. The lips are shaped in a sort of oval. How do they get that way?"

Licking a fleck of white stuff from his glans, she said, "Silly, they open the same way a cock hardens. I get excited and blood pumps into the two sets of lips, both the hairy ones outside and the slick ones inside, and into my clit. The clit lengthens like a cock but the lips force against themselves and this makes them open to form a ring."

"Your ring looks awful big. And wet."

He was stroking all about her twat. Her hips began to respond by surging liquidly.

He said, "Let me lick it."

She lowered herself and felt his tongue spear into her hole.

Groaning, she impaled her mouth on his cock and went all the way down, her nose against his scrotum. She rose and fell on it while his tongue washed about her cunt, between the inner and outer lips, under the clitoral hood, then swabbing her clit, which began firing waves of heat into her belly.

She lipped off his cock and rubbed the slippery loaf against her cheek. She raised a ball to her mouth and sucked it in while jerking his prick off.

It was rigid now, a thick, pink pillar. She tongued out the ball and licked from the stem up to the head, vining her tongue about it, kissing the tip, sucking that way, then yawning and swallowing it.

His hips were moving. He choked, "Sis, you'll make me come!"

"Then come, honey! And don't stop lapping my cunt."

She held the erect prick in both hands, lipping and kissing the head. His hips jerked and tossed. He was starting to fuck her mouth. She gave it long, slippery sucks, pulling off with each one, then shoving her gaping mouth down on it, licking all the way until the knob was buried in her throat.

His tongue felt like a belt of fire racing from her clit to her hole. She was coming, jerking her twat, spilling juice on his face.

Then he bucked and his cock became as hard as iron, leaping at her mouth. She cried out in joy. She felt the cream boil up out of his balls. The cock became so engorged that it strained her jaws.

It blew. Oh, did it blow, shooting a blast into her throat. She choked on it, raised off, and the second shot of white stuff splashed all over her eyes and cheeks and mouth.

Her cunt knitted up tight and then broke. She shrieked through the explosive orgasm as she again ate cock and took the third splash into her throat, drank it down, sucked hard, drawing out more.

Together they groaned through orgasm.

It was over. They slumped down, spent. But Sharon did not stop sucking that delicious cock.

CHAPTER SIX.

Hot sunshine burned in the window of the employees' lounge as Sharon peeled off her uniform dress.

Her night's work was done. She would sunbathe by the pool for an hour, then go to Harris Motors and take up Tom Thornton's offer of a demonstrator ride in the little bomb.

While unhooking her bra she recalled the sixty-nine she and Buddy had done. Oh, he would learn the hottest cunt in town was his sister's, that Nancy was nothing to get excited over. She was simply there to be used for their purposes.

She hung the bra in her locker and kneaded her breasts, thinking, I have Nancy now. I need only arrange for Bud Connoly to catch her humping Buddy's prick during working hours.

She looked down at her titties and rolled them, tugging at the points. She often did this after removing a tight bra. It felt terribly good to restore her boobs to freedom after the smothering compression of clammy nylon. She wished she could linger, gloating over the night's victory while playing with her breasts, but she had no time to waste. She slipped out of her panties and put on a yellow bikini. The bra formed meager caps on her titties, and the bottom part was barely adequate to cover her pussy hair and ass crack. She tied the bra straps behind, but let the shoulder cords dangle.

She had one worry. If she busted Nancy, Bud might replace her with some older, experienced person from the day shift.

Sharon knew she needed extra leverage. There were two angles. The first -- the apparently impossible -- was to seduce Bud. As his mistress she would have it made. The alternative was his wife, Lita.

Lita's gaze seemed to eat right through Sharon's clothing.

But could she swing with the lesbian scene?

She went out to the pool, glancing about in search of either Bud or Lita.

Both were usually here at this hour, Lita to spend an hour or so overseeing the Beachwear Boutique, Bud to begin his long day's work. He came at seven and normally refreshed himself with a swim at about this time.

Neither was in sight, but plenty of guests, in the pool and in lounge chairs on the lawn, stared at Sharon's out thrust breasts, which wobbled and lurched because of the lack of support. Normally she enjoyed such attention. Today she simply dropped down on the edge of the pool and dangled her feet in the water, wrapped up in her thoughts.

Nancy had told Buddy she had a big cunt and had never before been completely full of cock.

If Nancy were really turned on to him, maybe she could be maneuvered into fucking at midnight, when Bud made his regular inspection.

Sharon kept glancing at the employees' lounge exit. Bud usually changed to swim trunks there.

At last he appeared, wearing white trunks. His hairy chest looked a yard wide. Sharon saw him greet some guests. He patted a man's shoulder, shook hands with another. He moved toward the diving board by a circuitous course. Like a host at a cocktail party he touched flesh constantly and dropped a joke in every ear.

He was a bullshit artist, Sharon thought, but he knew how to handle people. Oh, she was learning things from Bud, even while gazing fixedly at the monstrous bulge in his white trunks. Just looking at the genital package brought a throb to her cunt. She dropped a hand between her legs and knuckled her pussy.

What hell it was, having the hots for a guy, knowing that in bed with him she could start her career rolling, but couldn't get at him.

Bud climbed the aluminum ladder to the high board, still grinning and chatting with people below. On top he paused, feet together, chest swelled out, his gaze measuring the board. He took three long steps, landing heavily on the last one.

The board snapped him up into a neat, stiff jackknife. He sprang out to an arrow shape that cut the water cleanly but, because of his bulk, there was a loud sound, and the splash shot high. He surfaced and swam slowly toward Sharon.

She remembered an old boy friend saying that nothing turned him on like the sight of a fringe of cunt hair that had escaped the crotch of a girl's bathing suit. She fingered down to a leg hole and pulled the stretchy nylon aside, exposing a tuft of auburn hair.

Legs spread, she waited for him.

When Bud neared her he glanced about to see if anyone were within hearing distance. Then his eyes twinkled and he said, "You look familiar, honey. Haven't I met you in some whorehouse?"

She smiled broadly. "Maybe. But I never remember men's faces. Just their jocks. I can't see yours."

He laughed. "My, but you're a sassy old gal this morning!"

His gaze paused on her crotch. He had spied her display of twat hair. But he made no comment on it.

He asked, "Did everything work out last night? That drunken party?"

She nodded. "We took care of it."

"I don't deserve the faithful employees I've got. You people keep things running so smooth I'll get as lazy as an old hound dog without fleas."

She smiled, still hoping he would remark on her pussy, but he turned away, saying, "I have to go make friends and influence people." Then he swam back toward the diving board ladder.

Zero, Sharon thought, sighing deeply. She was getting nowhere with Bud Connoly.

Just as he climbed out of the pool, his wife, Lita, emerged from the lobby exit.

He ran toward her, his arms outspread as though to crush his wet body against her. Lita wore a crisp blue dress. Shrieking with mock fright, she danced away. Bud grinned and trotted off to the employees' lounge.

The horseplay annoyed Sharon. It was yet another display of the affection that welded the two together so tightly that she could not pry Bud loose.

She eyed Lita, a tiny, nicely curved blonde of about twenty-five. She wore a huge straw sun hat. The crown was wrapped in wide pink ribbon. Sharon recognized the hat as one from the Boutique. Lita often modeled her own wares. Sharon guessed that today she would stroll around the pool and talk to people, trying to arouse interest in the sun hat.

Still seething from her failure with Bud, Sharon impulsively climbed to her feet, resolved to learn the truth about Lita. As she walked along the pool edge toward Lita, she saw the girl's gaze, sweeping about the pool, fix on her.

Sharon raised her arms to finger-comb her hair, thus lifting her breasts almost out of the bikini top. The heavy orbs quivered and wobbled. The bra material hung loosely on her nipples.

She watched Lita's reaction.

The girl's smile faded for a split second. There was a darkness in her eyes, like a hunger. A pink tonguetip stole out and wetted her lips.

Sharon was still rearranging her hair when she reached Lita and stopped, smiling at her.

Lita said, "Darling, you look simply delicious this morning! Every man present is staring at you."

Every man and at least one woman, Sharon thought.

She made an attempt to tug up her bra. "Am I showing too much?"

Lita chuckled. "You probably are. Especially some pussy hair that has escaped your suit crotch. Here, let me fix it."

She stepped close to shield Sharon's body from the gaze of others. She fingered the bikini crotch, stretching it out, then tucked the errant hair back under the yellow material. Her feather-light touch seemed to burn Sharon's groin.

Lita took her time at it too, at last patting the material in place, saying, "There! Done. But I must say, you're still not quite presentable. I can see a dark line of moisture in your crotch. Have you been having sexy thoughts?"

Lita was smiling, her manner casual. But her touch had been a caress. Sharon felt tongue-tied. She studied the other's heart-shaped face. Grayish eyes were shadowed by the hat brim, which made them seem sultry despite her casual air. Her dress front clung to breasts that seemed very large for her diminutive torso, and her short skirt exposed beautifully turned legs.

Sharon was on the point of saying that the cunt juice that had wetted through her swimsuit crotch was Lita's doing. But she decided on caution. She really was not sure about Lita's sexual leanings.

She said, "I was thinking about a little white convertible I want to buy. Do you think that could have moistened my pussy?"

Lita laughed. "You mean, you're queer for a car? What a fun kink! You must tell me about it." Her hand closed caressingly on Sharon's arm. "Darling, this whole bathing suit thing is absurd. Wouldn't you rather swim nude?"

Sharon shrugged. "There's no place around here..."

"But there's the pool at my house. Would you like to swim there? Private? Just the two of us?"

"Yes."

Sharon had spoken hurriedly. Now a flush burned her throat as she realized the implications.

Lita's hand still stroked her arm. "Then, Sharon, I'll meet you at my place in an hour. I still have a little work to do at the Boutique."

Sharon nodded agreement and hurried off to the lounge.

There she found that her legs were trembling violently. She had to sit down to gather her wits. Could she swim naked with a lesbian? Well, she had an hour. Maybe driving the little white bomb would take her mind off it and ease her nerves.

She changed into a halter and shorts and hurried out of the motel and headed downtown toward Harris Motors. She walked rapidly, as though fleeing something, and was still trembling when she entered the showroom.

Tom Thornton came out of the office. He smiled in his smooth, professional salesman's way.

"Ready to go for a drive?"

She nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. Tom offered her a set of car keys.

She said, "I feel kind of shaky. I'd better not drive."

He frowned. "Has something upset you? You look pale."

"It's been a long night's work. Problems."

"What you need is a shot of whiskey." He took her arm and steered her into the office. There he opened a file cabinet drawer that contained a quart bottle. He unscrewed the cap, poured a shot in it and handed it to Sharon.

She had never drunk whiskey straight. She swallowed it and the stuff burned her throat. She gagged, her eyes streaming.

He chuckled. "It's a strong dose, but you'll feel better now." He replaced the bottle and led her out a back door to the used car lot. They paused beside a replica of Sharon's beloved bomb. However, it was blue and somewhat dented. Its appearance impoverished her dream. Still, climbing in on the passenger's side, inserting herself in the narrow space, she felt a certain thrill. And when Tom started the motor, the howl of it made her smile broadly.

He wheeled the little car out to the seaside boulevard. Sharon buckled her seatbelt and settled down to enjoy the wind whipping tears from her eyes and flailing her hair.

She watched Tom, studying his lengthy, hard-looking body, trying to superimpose his forceful masculinity on the image of the lovely Lita that kept bobbing up in her vision.

On almost every heartbeat she felt a burning in her groin, where Lita had lifted her bikini crotch and replaced the fringe of twat hair. Never before had a girl touched her pussy. Oh, when she was a young kid, she and some other girls had experimented with kissing and feeling titties.

But this was different. It was lesbianism, and her bowels were quaking.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tom whipped the little car along the coast road for a few miles, then veered off on the highway and drove inland.

Sharon was calmer now. Maybe the whiskey had helped. Also, she felt reassured by Tom's firm grip on the wheel. He drove expertly, she thought. And she liked his looks. He was attractive without being handsome. His gaze was level, assured, sometimes quite piercing.

She knew that he was Harris' ace salesman and earned big commissions. Many a girl would give her eye teeth to marry him.

Sharon could not care less about that.

Why? She guessed her father's continual chasing of young broads had made home life seem impermanent. Somehow she trusted only her own ability to earn a dollar. Even if it involved her with a lesbian. She bit her lip. She didn't want to think of that, not now.

Tom eased off the highway onto a Macadam Road that wound through grazing country where hump-backed cattle wandered. The animals were beginning to gravitate to the meager shade of a few live oaks as the day's heat increased.

Tom drove slowly now. "Want to take the wheel?"

"No."

He eyed her. "I'm trying to figure you out, Sharon."

She smiled wryly. "That's a coincidence. So am I."

"Do you have a boy friend?"

"Nobody steady."

"But you're a terrific-looking girl."

She shrugged. "I'm a loner, I guess."

He stopped the car under a tree that shaded the road. He took cigarettes from his shirt pocket and gave her one. As he lit it Sharon felt the day's heat close in on her. The silence was broken only by the distant lowing of a cow.

"And you?"

"I play the field." He glanced sharply at her. "I make a bunch of money, more than most guys at my age. Lots of chicks would love to get their greedy hands into it."

Abruptly Sharon unsnapped her seat belt and climbed out of the car. She just had to touch something real, permanent. She went to an oak and rubbed her palms on the rough bark.

Tom was watching her.

Suppressing a smile, she smoothed the seat of her shorts, aware that she was drawing his attention to her plump, high-sprung ass. She was profiled to him and knew that her behind looked especially large when compared to the side view of her narrow waist.

She was in no mood to seduce him. If she were to beat down his price on the car, it would be at another time. But sometimes exhibiting her body gave her a charge of reassurance; and she felt it now, especially when she saw the growing bulge in the crotch of his pants.

"Tom, do you dig me?"

He chuckled. A red burn spread on his throat. "Very much so."

"Is it just sex?"

"I don't know."

She smiled, liking both his answer and his blush.

He said, "We should have a date. Get acquainted. Of course, since you work nights... But my mornings are slow. How about a picnic on the beach or out here in the country? Tomorrow?"

She suddenly felt a great deal better. She got back into the car, saying, "I don't know about tomorrow, but let's do that some day. I know I'd enjoy it."

She asked him to drive her to the Connoly house.

Bud and Lita's place was a cluster ranch house made up of white cubes, mindful of the motel, even down to the towering royal palms on the green lawns.

Tom halted at the front door. Sharon climbed out, shuttering her eyes against the sunlight blasting off the white walls.

She thanked Tom and went to the recessed front door, which was of dark wood, a respite for her sunburned gaze. She heard the little car crunch out the gravel drive and suddenly felt lonely and afraid. She turned to call out to Tom, but he was gone.

The door stood ajar. A note under the knocker read, Sharon. Straight through.

Sharon entered a chestnut-paneled hall hung with hunting prints. She went through toward brightness at the far end. There a glass door opened on a tile patio walled in by tall hedges.

She called out, "Lita?"

Lita replied from beyond the hedge. "Darling, to your right."

There Sharon found a gap in the hedge, which was very thick at this point. She penetrated it to a square of lawn enclosed by hedges eight or ten feet high. A pool was ahead, a pink tile oval. To the left was a white wicker chaise lounge on which Lita lay, stark naked except for her straw hat with the pink-ribboned crown.

Lita's nudity seemed to leap up at Sharon, filling her vision with impossibly beautiful sun-gilded flesh, gold from head to foot, broken only by the ruby nipples tipping her round breasts, and a fluff of blonde twat hair.

"Thirsty, Sharon?" Lita pointed to a white tray on the grass beside her. There two tall gasses sweated.

Sharon's mouth was parched by fear. She took a glass and gulped thirstily at it.

Lita said, "It's lemonade with just the tiniest drop of gin."

The tiny drop of gin landed in Sharon's stomach with a jolt.

Lita was smiling up at her. "You look hot in all those clothes. Get naked, darling, and join the bare-ass brigade."

Fortified by gin on top of whiskey, Sharon still felt shaky. She delayed, saying, "Let me have a look at the pool."

She replaced her glass on the tray and walked toward the pool, feeling her belly quake with fear. Lita was so composed. Sharon paused on the tile edge of the pool and studied the oval shape. The glittering blue water wobbled in her uncertain vision.

She recalled clutching the trunk of the oak out in the country where Tom had stopped the car. There she had gotten over the shakes by showing off her body for his benefit.

Could she pretend that Lita was a man lusting for her? Could she gain assurance that way?

She began undressing, stretching her halter out from the thrust of her breasts, then peeling it up her body. A faint breeze washed the hot tips of her tits. She tore off the halter and slowly turned to face Lita.

She saw, despite the concealing shadow of Lita's hat brim, a narrowing of her eyes, a dark gaze.

Sharon walked slowly toward her.

Never had she been so conscious of the protrusion of her breasts. They seemed to thrust out before her, two melons rising at the bottom of her vision, jutting, swollen like balloons, too plump to sag at all. They wobbled and rocked, dipped and jiggled. The big aureoles had puffed oat like rosy teacups from which projected long, pointing nipples.

She reached the tray and bent to pick up her drink. She saw her titties hang out, lengthening.

Lita said, "Darling, I think you have the loveliest breasts I've ever seen."

Her tone was a teasing banter. But there was a choked sound too. Yes, Lita was one of the girls.

Sharon felt more confident when she straightened. At least she knew what Lita was. She stood, sipping her drink, feeling sufficiently restored to smile down at Lita. But seeing the other's smaller breasts made her self-conscious again. Her own seemed almost gross, her aureoles too big, her nipples grotesquely extended.

She made the natural gesture of feeling over her breasts, saying, "It's certainly more comfortable to be bare-titted in the sunshine, isn't it?"

Lita nodded. She licked her lips. Her gaze flicked at Sharon's tits, then turned away, as though she were trying not to stare but could hardly stop herself.

Bolder now, Sharon kneaded her breasts voluptuously which made Lita squirm.

Sharon finished off her drink. She could feel the glow from the gin in it now. Setting down the glass, she unzipped her shorts. She bent over and peeled them down along with her panties.

For an uncomfortable moment she was aware of the extreme hairiness of her twat. The spread of auburn curls started just below her belly button and formed a wide blotch bushing out on her mound. Below it narrowed to twin beards at her cuntlips. Her sleek, hairless thighs were crowded by the expanding fringes of pubic bush.

By contrast, Lita's pussy fur was a tiny blonde fluff, half-lost at the joining of her belly and thighs.

Lita now squirmed across the chaise lounge, which was a good five feet wide, a communal sunbathing incline.

She said, "Stretch out beside me, darling."

Sharon lay down where the other had indicated.

She closed her eyes against the sun's glare. She could feel the warmth of Lita's body next to her, but no flesh touched.

She waited tensely, wondering what would happen. But Lita made no move and Sharon began to loosen up, helped by the drinks she had consumed.

Lita spoke in a whisper. "Darling, I'm gad you're here. I like having beautiful people around me, male or female. Do you know what I mean?"

Sharon felt a slim finger slide into the palm of her hand. Yes, she knew what Lita meant.

She said, "I feel flattered. All this luxury. Inviting me to share it. It's terribly kind of you."

"You beautify everything I have, Sharon."

"But Lita, being an employee, I feel a little guilty. You see, I have a good job and Bud is a great boss. I don't want to take advantage of him."

"Do you dig Bud?"

There was a sharpness in Lita's voice.

Sharon said, "I guess all girls are a little in love with their bosses."

"Suppose he made a pass at you?"

Sharon knew that Lita would spot an outright lie.

She decided to speak the truth, or most of it anyway. She said, "Lots of girls would sleep with the boss to get a promotion. Maybe I would. I don't know. But Bud is terribly attractive. I'm afraid I'd tumble even if he weren't my boss. I mean, if he were just a date." She paused. "I shouldn't tell you this, you being his wife."

Lita squeezed her hand. "I like your honesty. And I'll tell you the truth. Bud has been in the business world for many years. Dozens of hot little pussies have split for him. But they've gotten nothing, except a good fucking, which they may or may not have enjoyed."

Lita fell silent. Eyes closed, Sharon felt herself soften as the voluptuousness of lying naked in the sunshine got to her. Her body seemed to sag. Lita's hand in hers bespoke affection rather than sex, and she soon grew used to it. It seemed to indicate that the other had accepted her explanations, dismissing the subject of an attractive husband and boss.

Sharon peeked down at their bodies, at lovely hillocks and creases. She liked looking at them, and feeling the sun beam into her twat, painting it with warmth.

"Sleepy?" Lita asked.

Sharon nodded. "It's my bedtime."

"Then take a nap, darling. Here, I'll kiss you good-night."

Sharon stiffened. She felt a shadow pass over her face as the broad brim of Lita's straw hat neared. Warm breath fanned her cheek. She kept her eyes closed, thinking, It's happening! My God, what's a dildo?

A soft moistness pressed her lips, then it was gone. But the feel had been creamy, as elusive as a breath of air. The shadow remained over her face. She peeked. Lita's lips remained close to hers.

Lita asked, "Sharon, do you like me?"

Sharon scanned the other's long, dark lashes, the velvety gold of her cheeks, the moist, rosy lips, the glint of pearly teeth.

She said, "I wish you weren't the boss' wife. If you were just any girl... Yes, I like you terribly. But you're not just Lita, you're Bud's wife, and anything I say will sound like buttering up."

She felt soft fingers caress her cheek.

"Did you like my kiss?"

Sharon was daring now. "As kisses go, it was kind of small."

Lights danced in Lita's eyes. "Would you like something larger?"

Sharon nodded. She was still trembling but her curiosity was aroused. She just had to try it out.

She saw Lita lick her lips. Then her mouth opened and she lowered. The shading hat brim neared. Wet softness oozed about Sharon's mouth, and into it as she let her lips be opened. There was a gentle suction drawing her tongue into the trough of Lita's tongue, which curled about it, laying it with a cool fire such as Sharon had never imagined.

Lita turned her head to get closer. Her mouth yawned. Sharon let her own jaw fall slack. In a moment she was tonguing deeply into the other girl's mouth. A strange silken movement slid down her tongue into her body, a gentle thing, mild compared to the hammering she felt when kissing a man, a dainty sensuality flickering in her cunt. She raised a hand and curved it about Lita's neck. The girl's silky hair seemed to envelop her fingers. She wound them into it and pressed the soft nape.

The kiss was like falling into a well and finding it filled with clouds of fluffy silk. She seemed to float, aware only of the tongue, now searching her mouth and her fingers combing into Lita's hair and caressing her neck.

Lita moved closer. A hot breast touched Sharon's tit and molded to its shape. A sharp nipple indented her flesh.

Excited now, Sharon sucked hard at the girl's mouth while turning her body against her. She felt burning flesh sear her from breast to thigh.

At last Lita broke free. She was gasping. She kissed Sharon's cheek.

"Darling Sharon! I wasn't sure... Not all girls enjoy... other girls... But you are very passionate. Did you really like it?"

"It made my toes curl. Please kiss me again?"

Lita squeezed her. "I want to kiss you until my mouth is sore. But sweetheart, the trouble is that I do fall in love. Stupid of me! I know better. And I understand you. You're like I was a few years ago when I married Bud. You're ambitious and probably as ruthless as I was. You'll use me."

Sharon remained silent.

"But I can't resist!" Lita cried.

Sharon felt a hand cup her exposed breast. Velvety fingers slithered about the hot orb. She looked down and saw them moving, slender, pale-gold digits against the white swell of flesh, now nudging at her swollen aureole and brushing the turgid nipple. The golden fingers traced circles, ellipses and arabesques on the rosy-capped white mound. The touch became more forceful; digging in, kneading, and yet it was gentle, an understanding feminine hand, lacking the harshness with which men toyed with titties.

Lita tweaked the nipple teasingly, then squeezed the base of it with thumb and forefinger and tenderly milked it out. The peg lengthened and became a brighter red. Lita repeated the caress, digging thumb and forefinger into the puffed aureole before tugging at it. This compromise between a slithering caress and a firm grip seemed to draw strings deep in Sharon's body. Her snatch pulsed. She squirmed, gasping for breath. She watched wide-eyed as her aureole, tingling with excitement, grew out to a puffy cone projecting the thrust of her red nipple.

Never had Sharon been so aware of a part of her own body. The one breast entirely filled her vision, a swollen mound on which blue veins fed through the white flesh to the aureole, the pimply graininess which bulged out to a rubbery puff. On the swollen nipple tip the milk-duct openings formed tiny craters.

Lita's fingers still moved slowly, rhythmically, but more firmly now, and at the end of each milking tug they clung, stretching the whole breast.

The gelatinous strings running to Sharon's cunt seemed elastic. Long after each pull, her cunt drew in to suck at itself. This lazy voluptuousness amazed her. Sex had always been a violent, wrenching thing, even masturbation. But Lita's toying with her nipple opened a while new vista of sensuality.

She was breathing hard, yet was relaxed. Though hot in the pussy, she was content to let Lita set the pace.

At last Lita murmured, "Would you like me to kiss your tittie?"

Sharon took a deep breath. "Yes! Please, Lita!"

She watched the other girl lower her mouth, licking her lips. Her tongue slipped out and flicked at the nipple.

The slippery passage of tonguetip across turgid nipple sent a quick message into Sharon's belly, a quiver, a tiny cuntal convulsion, a spasm of pinhead size. The tongue then curled around the long peg, like a growing vine, a wet vine leaving spirals of searing moisture. Then, more forceful, the tongue became a swab washing the dark disc. Her tongue was fully extended and she used it broadly, but it took some time to cover the giant pyramid of puffed red flesh with saliva.

At last she mouthed the nipple, making a hole of her lips, pressing in, then sucking softly as she raised, drawing it out to a spike that loomed in Sharon's gaze.

Sharon slumped down, moaning, surrendering herself to the ecstasy of having her tit sucked by a woman.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The slow sucking had a narcotic effect on Sharon. She drifted away into sleep and dreamed that her nipple was a fire hydrant in a whale-sized mouth out of science fiction, an oral cavity full of a thousand tongues as slippery as dribbling blobs of warm jelly.

Her cunt had settled down to a contented drooling. All her sexual awareness was gathered into the nipple.

Perhaps her dream would last all day long, and the nipple would grow to a rubbery red tower.

But eventually Lita drew off. She murmured, "Sweetheart, we mustn't linger here. I don't want your lovely breasts sunburned, or your loins though you've enough pussy hair to clothe several twats."

She was smiling down at Sharon's crotch.

Sharon asked, "Do you mind that it's so hairy?"

"Darling, that makes it all the sexier."

Lita abruptly sat up. She reached under the chaise lounge and produced a transistor radio. She turned it on. Music blasted out, a Latin American rhythm, a rumba or a tango.

"Let's dance!" Lita cried. She jumped up. Rising on the toes of one foot like a ballet dancer, she extended the other leg and spun about.

Sharon burst into laughter at the sight of her lover's tits flying and her blonde twat hair spreading to reveal her inner cunt. She leaped off the chaise lounge and seized Lita's hand. They leaped and kicked, flinging about, only vaguely following the beat of the music.

There in the enclosure of green hedges that cut them off from the world, two naked girls danced like lambs gamboling in a spring-green meadow. They leaped high, not caring how wildly their breasts flopped, uncaring that their pussylips gaped, ignoring the hot eye of the sun peering up their asses.

As they danced about the pool Sharon noted that the pink tile rimming the oval shape made it look like an open cunt. She thought it fitting. There's nobody here but us twats, she thought.

Then they fell into the pool.

Sharon splashed in head first. Her legs were spread. She felt a hand clap into her twat as she plumbed the depths.

She twisted out of her dive on the bottom, her nipples sliding along the tiles.

She surfaced behind the sputtering Lita, who had somehow retained her straw hat. The wilted brim hung down the sides of her face.

Sharon seized Lita's hips from behind and squeezed her pubes in between the cheeks of the girl's ass. Hugging her, nuzzling her neck, trying to wrap her slippery legs around her hips, she felt the wildness of their dance had simply gone underwater.

"Darling, my darling!" Lita crooned.

They washed against the side of the pool. Sharon tried to grasp the girl's titties. They were as firm as melons and slipped from her clutching hands as though oiled. She slid a hand down Lita's body to her pussy and fingered the plump mound, then the lips.

Lita turned in her arms and kissed her. They clung together. For a moment their breasts formed a single, pulsing cushion. Then the slippery orbs lost traction and bobbed here and there, rubbery nipples drawing curved lines of heat about the wobbly globes.

Sharon sucked her lover's tongue, marveling at the transformation Lita had wrought in her. She felt Lita's hand slip in between her thighs and gently caress her pussylips. Then the girl whispered, "Honey, I want to take you indoors to bed."

Sharon eagerly nodded in agreement.

They climbed out of the water and walked, arms about each other, both shaded by the dripping brim of Lita's sun hat Sharon watched their lurching breasts jostle each other. When her right tittie slapped Lita's it seemed to set up an electric movement in both pairs. She burst out into giggles. She must tell Lita how funny it looked. But a thousand other nights whirled in her mind. Gazing down at their bellies, at their wet twat hair and the womanly swells of their thighs, the two nude lower bodies so similar, neither crotch armed with a cock that could stand up and be used to penetrate the other, she felt an inexplicable joy, a relief. Neither of them could take advantage of the other. They could only share.

It did not matter that Lita was the boss' wife. She was simply a sexy girl whose hip slicked past Sharon's on every step, a lover, no more than that.

The world of striving, a harsh, male-inspired system, was beyond her horizon.

Inside the house, Lita took her to a small, dark room. The single window was veiled by layers of green marquisette. The effect was as though they were two mermaids holding hands amid shimmering green streamers of kelp.

Lita produced towels and they dried each other.

Then Lita murmured, "Darling, if I were you -- and I was once in your position, as I told you before -- I would go to bed with the boss' wife, yes, but first I'd make sure she could help my career."

Sharon kissed her throat. "Shut up, sweetheart. We're alone. Screw all that career jazz."

Lita's arms closed about her. Their breasts again formed a single cushion, a liquid thing, pulsing on a single heartbeat.

She said, "But Sharon, I'm so wild about you! I want you to be able to afford pretty clothes, to make you more beautiful than you already are. I'll have Bud promote you."

"That doesn't matter," Sharon whispered, pressing her belly to her lover's, feeling damp pussy hair touch her flesh.

"It does matter. And I want you to have that little white car. I'll help you."

"I'd rather take you to bed."

"We'll talk about it later."

"Later I'll sleep. I'm exhausted."

Lila sighed and moved, to the couch in the corner of the sea-green room. Still behind her, Sharon caressed the girl's firm buttocks, then fingered down the cleft between to the soft knot of her asshole.

Lita stopped. She shifted her feet apart and leaned forward toward the couch.

She whispered, "Sharon, darling, that turns me on terribly. Stick your finger into my anus, will you, please?"

Sharon stood there, panting now, looking down at Lita's plump golden asscheeks, at the cleft, at her own finger wriggling into the star-shaped pucker. Blood coursed hotly through her. She licked parched lips. She pushed. Her index finger sank in to the first joint.

Lita moaned loudly and began rotating her ass, sort of winding up around Sharon's finger.

She pressed Lita's ass cheeks to widen the spread. Soon her finger was buried in steamy asshole.

She bent down and kissed the sun-gilded buttocks, kissed all over them while wagging her finger in Lita's anal cavity.

"Honey!" Lila groaned. "You'll make me come."

"Then come! We'll each come a hundred times!"

"First I want to suck your titties again, but differently. I'll sit. Lean over me so they hang out like bells. Please?"

"Why don't you come first?"

"Because I've dreamed of this for so long. Seeing you wearing a bikini, your luscious big breasts jiggling and wobbling... I've masturbated so many times while thinking of you."

Reluctantly Sharon withdrew her finger. Lita turned and sat on the couch, knees together. She reached up to Sharon's titties as Sharon bent down over her.

Lita's fingertips nudged the dangling breasts. She set them to swinging, then extended her tongue and licked each nipple as it passed.

Sharon's breasts began to feel terribly heavy, as though all the blood in her body had surged into them. The tonguetip lashes were mere teases. She wanted something more. At last Lita stopped them and daintily lipped the right nipple. Her teeth nibbled. The peg swelled and began pumping hot waves that surged all the way to Sharon's drooling cunt.

She groaned, "That's driving me crazy! When you suck my nipple it feels as long as a finger!"

Lita drew off. She rubbed her palms on the turgid points. "Sweetheart, I have never seen such long, thick, luscious nips! Let me suck them just a little longer."

As she spoke her hands slid up Sharon's inner thighs. Her fingertips daintily rolled the hairy lips, then slipped inside.

Her touch on the knob of Sharon's clit was explosive. Moaning, bowing her legs, she began to hip-fuck the other's fingertip.

Lita's mouth yawned now and suckered onto Sharon's right breast, drawing nipple and aureole into her mouth. Her lips formed a pink ring indenting the white tit flesh.

The pull of her sucking joined with her finger in Sharon's gash, triggering a spasm that made her cunt roll and squirt.

Her legs turned to rubber. She was falling. Lita seized her hips and held her in place while ducking under her breasts, down to her hairy twat. She mouthed the outer lips, nibbled, then sucked them into her mouth.

Sharon let out a shriek. "Honey! Suck me! Oh, suck me!"

Lita's tongue slid between the pulsing labia, laved them, and at last snaked into her twat.

The suction increased. Sharon's rolling, convulsing cunt felt like being drawn inside out. But all sensations were uncertain. She was coming, sliding into an orgasm different than she had ever experienced, one consisting solely of her gushing cunt being drawn into a girl's soft mouth.

Then Lita's hands moved between her bowed legs and up behind to her ass. She clutched the big cheeks. A searching finger found Sharon's anus. It speared in like a streak of fire. Sharon moaned loudly, her body jerking into orgasm.

Looking down, she saw Lita's open mouth press into her yawning, coral gash. She felt her tongue coil and spiral about the walls of her cuntal tube.

She cried, "I'm coming, Lita. Coming! Suck my cunt harder! I'm spilling out! Eat my cunt, Lita, eat me!"

With that Sharon's belly erupted. Shrieking, she fell, tumbling on top of the other girl.

The whole world had gone black.

When Sharon at last came out of it, the blackness had hazed and green oozed in. She was again a mermaid a mile under the green sea.

She was lying on the couch, her head resting on Lita's belly. The other girl was caressing her cheeks. Fingers wound slowly down her throat to her titties, and there drew teasing circles.

Sharon's cunt still pulsed. Her crotch felt swampy.

Lita was murmuring, "The time I decided I had to have you, it was about two weeks ago, one morning at the motel. I was terribly busy sorting out deliveries to the Boutique. I hurried into the john to pee. I opened a stall door without imagining that anybody was on the toilet. There you were, squatting, pissing, your panties down at your ankles and your thighs spread wide apart. I saw your muff, that lush, oversized bush of hair. Just a glimpse. But it turned me on instantly. Oh, I was already gone over your wobbling breasts. But seeing you sitting there, white thighs winged out, that glorious, red bush filling the space between, I knew I had to have you. Do you remember?"

Sharon nodded. "You had already lifted your skirt when you opened the stall door. You weren't wearing panties."

"We both laughed."

"Yes." Sharon rubbed her cheek on Lita's downy belly. She gazed at her mound, then caressed the thick tuft of blonde pubic hair. Lita sighed deeply and spread her legs. Sharon explored her crotch, first the plump, hairy, outer lips, then the gash. She caressed the oily inner lips. She became aware of the nostril-twitching odor of cunt. A pulse hammered in her temple. Trembling with desire, she raised up and climbed in between Lita's legs.

She kissed slick, golden thigh flesh while gazing into the girl's boat-shaped, pink inner twat. Lita's heels came down on her shoulders. She nibbled the wet lip hair, and she suddenly became voracious. Open-mouthed, she crowded in, pressing to the wet snatch, tongue extended to lash the rubbery clit. She licked into Lita's hole.

Lita shrieked, "Darling! You're licking my cunt! I'm going to come, honey!"

Sharon clung to the other's heaving hips to keep from being thrust away. She sucked the hairy lips into her mouth and shook her head, ragging them about while stabbing her tongue into the blonde's hole.

Sucking at the juice, tonguing the girl's convulsing snatch, Sharon felt a savage delight. She was drowning in the musky juices, wallowing in the incredible squishiness that rolled about her face, spearing her tongue into her lover's sucking cunt. Yes, she loved nuzzling this steamy, writhing, tossing gash. Would she ever again care about cocks?

Lita cried, "I want to lick you. Give me your pussy!"

Without leaving the delicious slit, Sharon climbed over Lita's thigh. The other's touch guided her as she straddled her torso and knelt, knees far apart, then lowered her crotch to Lita's face.

The first tongue-lash was like a splash of fire opening her pussy.

Groaning, she pressed her tits to Lita's hot belly, curled her arms around her thighs and fingered into her asshole. Lita arched up, quivering, her twat open so wide that Sharon's whole face was bathed in the hot juice of her palpitating gash.

Lita's tongue seemed a yard long, coiling and whipping in the depths of her cunt.

Sharon shrieked, "Lick me, lick me, I'll come!"

She began churning toward an orgasmic peak. She lost track of time. Por ages, it seemed, she mouthed the hairy cunt and thrust her tongue into the sloshy vaginal cavity, screwing her finger deep into Lita's asshole.

She could see only the white cheeks and her finger. Then a red burn blotted out everything.

Lita's tongue seemed to extend through her split to her own mouth, and then extended into Lita's own hole. Sharon realized then that she was coming. She choked feebly, "I'm there, Lita. I'm letting it all go."

As she wove and humped through orgasm she thought, I'm a cunt lapper. I'm a lesbian. And I love it.

CHAPTER NINE

At three in the afternoon, Lita drove Sharon home.

She had slept a couple of hours and was still groggy when she left the car and climbed the path to her house.

In public -- driving -- Lita had been her proper, poised, beautiful self, though her hand had crept across the car seat and over Sharon's thigh to press the crotch of her shorts and squeeze her pussy.

Sharon entered the house. It was a nice enough place, small but decently furnished. They would have far better if her father did not spend his earnings like water on young broads. She heard noises.

She paused, holding her breath. Listening, she slipped into the dining room. Bedsprings were creaking.

She heard a loud moan. "Buddy!"

He said, "Spread your legs wider, Nancy. I want to whack all the way into your big hole."

"Buddy! Your prick feels like a cannon!"

Sharon's eyes narrowed. Nancy! She hadn't had enough last night, had come here chasing Buddy's cock!

Sharon tiptoed through the dining room to the hall. The door of Buddy's room was ajar. She peered through the crack between door and jamb.

Buddy was on top, his ass to Sharon. Nancy's white legs were wrapped around his waist. He had raised up and was fucking her high. Sharon saw his scrotum fly up, baring his big pink cock as it slid into Nancy's cunt. His balls flopped down, swatting the white swells of her ass.

When Buddy's enormous, pink cock next pulled out, his balls fell to the side and Sharon could see the full curved length of prick, that pink, suckable man-meat, and the head that would choke any woman's hole.

She gazed at Nancy's big, livid cunt and at the wealth of dark, wet twat hair surrounding it. Sharon licked her parched lips. She wanted to mouth Nancy's cunt. Lita had really turned her on to the lesbian scene.

Despite her experiences of the day, Sharon was instantly hot. She raised her halter to her armpits and began kneading her breasts. Then, without unclasping the waist of her shorts, she unzipped the fly front and shoved a hand down inside her panties to the furry snatch that Lita had licked so many times. She probed her wet gash. Her clit was up again like a little prick, like Buddy's years ago when she used to bathe him. Was that why she had seduced him yesterday? Because his little peanut had been the first she ever held?

Nancy groaned, "Oh, Buddy, I can't get enough. Will you come to the motel tonight and fuck me again there? Please?"

"I'll be pooped. This is the third time I've banged you this afternoon."

"Buddy, if I promise to suck it, will you come to the motel? At about three in the morning? I'll suck it all the way, and drink your cum."

Sharon spread her legs and slid two fingers into her snatch. She panted as she watched Buddy's fat pink cock slide in and out. It looked a little soft now. She wished she could go down on it and suck it to renewed stiffness. And she would lick Nancy's hairy cunt too. Were such thoughts disloyal to Lita? She did love Lita, and the things they had shared, the pool, the chaise lounge for two, the labyrinth of hedges, the sex room where she had first tasted woman juice.

Buddy sighed and drew out of Nancy's cunt. His salami of a cock was not limp but it lacked its normal, rigid curve.

He said, "I'm kind of worn out. Do you want to suck it now?" He fell on his back. Nancy eagerly twisted down his body, seizing the softening member in her two hands.

She placed the pink cock between her tits, a dark-capped pair that Sharon guessed were as large as her own. She squeezed them in on it and rocked back and forth. Tiring of this sport, she raised the cock to her mouth and began licking the white goo from the glans.

Sharon could fairly taste it herself. She jammed her fingers deep into her cunt and thumbed her clit, bowing her legs and hipping into the thumb pressure. She had come many times today, but orgasmic pressure was building up again inside her.

Oh, it must taste good! It was a delicious thing, that softly sheathed, fat arrowhead!

Nancy jerked it off with one hand. Her other closed on Buddy's giant nuts.

Sharon could bear no more. It was Nancy, not she, who had a mouthful of cock.

Even the knowledge that Buddy would prove the ruination of Nancy's career as night manager did not let Sharon linger. She slipped away to her room and closed the door. She undressed and climbed into bed, her fist between her legs, two fingers in her hole.

Her cum was quiet, and, as juice dribbled out of her cunt, she fell asleep.

Buddy breathed in long, wrenching gasps. He was lying sprawled on his bed, watching Nancy suck his cock.

She rose up, baring the wet tool, lipping the head, her tongue and lips rolling about it. Then her mouth yawned and she plunged downward, her mouth an oval shaped to the thickness of his shank, her cheeks sucking in the cylindrical form.

In the dresser mirror he could see her cocked-up ass, two round white cheeks divided by cunt hair, the longest, darkest, most plentiful he had ever imagined. But the hair did not conceal her livid gash, a long, teardrop shape that convulsed as she sucked. The guys at military school would never believe this.

He was crazy about Nancy. Yet it had all happened so fast he felt he scarcely knew her. He had kept asking her questions about herself. All had been answered by wet kisses or grabs at his crotch. She sure was wild for his meat.

He whispered, "Nancy, do you like that?"

She looked up, her mouth lifting off his knob. The tip was still in her lips when she spoke.

"I love sucking it. Every time I go down sucking, my cunt squirts."

She squeezed his nuts; Buddy gasped. Her squeeze had triggered it solid, like a ball of fire, was rising from his balls.

Nancy cried, "You're coming!" She gulped his cock, taking the whole thing into her mouth and sucking frantically.

Buddy felt his hips jerk, fucking right into Nancy's throat, choking her on the thrusts of his big cockhead.

He groaned loudly as it blew. There was a jolt, a burning explosion. His whole body went stiff as a board, when he shot his load into her mouth.

The noise of her sucking was loud, a voracious slurping as she swallowed his cream.

Buddy sagged, sinking into the bed, feeling the last feeble spurts erupt from his prick, and the hungry suction of her mouth on the tip.

He awakened to find himself alone. Had it been a dream?

The sheet was sopping with cunt juice and cum. And on the table was a note. Darling, tonight at the motel. Any time. Love, N.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, shaking his head to clear it. He looked at the clock. Four. He had intended meeting a couple of guys at the beach to swim and maybe get acquainted with some chicks. It was too late now.

Where was Sharon?

He pushed up from the bed and went to her room. The door was shut. He fisted the knob and turned it slowly, opening the door without a creak.

Sharon lay on her bed asleep, naked.

He stared at his sister's rosy tits, sloping a bit to the sides, at the twat hair curling down her belly and bushing out between her spread thighs.

He felt his cock lift. He slipped into the room and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, studying her. She looked so peaceful and innocent. But she was not like that. She was tough, demanding. Everything she did was for a purpose. For instance, he knew she had turned him on to Nancy for reasons of her own.

Her eyes opened. "Buddy!"

"I was just sitting here, thinking."

She stretched, then reached behind herself and plumped the pillow, raising her head to see him better.

"Thinking what?" she asked.

"Why you turned me on to Nancy."

She smiled broadly. "It was an act of charity. She was so frustrated, a nervous wreck. And I hated the idea of you jerking off all the time. What's the matter, didn't you like fucking her?"

"It's the greatest. But..."

"But what?"

He did not know what. He was suspicious of Sharon's motives. He always was. He shrugged.

Sharon's hands moved to her breasts. She caressed them, rubbing her palms on the nipples and digging her fingers into the white flesh.

"Sharon, why're you doing that?"

"Because it feels good."

He sensed she was doing it to draw him off the subject of Nancy. He watched her knead those luscious, protruding white tits. Nancy had a great pair, but no girl's tits stuck out like Sharon's or had such huge circles drawn out to nipple points that made his mouth water.

As he, watched, her right hand vined down her belly and pressed her twat hair. She rubbed her mound. Then she jacked up her legs, spreading them, and drew back on her pubes, opening her cunt. He saw the glistening coral of her gash. She fingered into it and began to massage the little clit knob. Her glance swung to him, searching, her eyes narrowing.

Yes, she was trying to make him forget his question about Nancy.

He asked, "Why did you set it up for me to fuck her?"

"Don't bother me. Go away and let me masturbate."

His twitching cock had risen. It hung in a half-hard loop. He said, "I'm not sure you like Nancy."

"I like her fine."

"You act sort of touchy around her."

"Women don't get along as well as men do."

"Maybe you want to have her job."

"You bet your sweet ass I do! It pays lots more bucks than mine."

He watched her slide two fingers down her gash and into her snatch. She kept her thumb pressing her clit. Her hips began to surge.

He asked, "Is that how you do it? Masturbate?"

"How else would I do it?"

She squirmed down the bed now, nearing him. Her hand reached over his thigh and closed on his cockhead.

She murmured, "Let me play with it. I'll come quicker that way."

Her palm cupped his end, a warm, caressing softness. Nancy did it differently. She just grabbed. Like Sharon had said, Nancy was frustrated. She seemed to be trying to make up for a lot of missed fucking. Sharon had always gotten hers. He used to spy on her when guys drove her home from dates. He had seen them fucking in the car, rigid in front of the house.

His cock throbbed. The head grew out of the circle of her thumb and index finger. She massaged the shank. Her fist squeezed up and down it in a jerking motion that produced a rapid hardening.

The discussion of why she had turned him on to Nancy had died. He worked down at the slender fingers she was forcing into her cunt. Her hips were working now, humping away. He heard her grunt. He reached over her thigh and stroked the downiness of her stomach then her silky, auburn twat hair. He gently pinched her mound and tugged it.

He traced the jelly softness of her inner lips, down to the fingers curling into her hole. He tucked his index finger in along with hers.

Sharon arched up, her hips jerking. Her right hand vised on his cook.

"Buddy! If you keep on making me hot, you'll have to fuck me!"

After he had pronged Nancy that third time, he had thought he would never get it up again. But now it stood like a bedpost, the head flaring out like a mushroom. It was throbbing with eagerness to squeeze into her sloshy cunt.

He was breathing hard. He choked, "But Sharon, you set me up with Nancy. It's like she's my girl. You know? I think a guy shouldn't have only one girl at a time."

"Then go away! Let me masturbate in peace!"

He could not. He bent down to the fork of her raised legs. He thumbed the wet, silky lip hair. It was much darker than that on her mound.

Lowering, he saw cunt drool dribble from their fingers to her white asscheeks. Her thighs were spread now, her feet planted firmly on the bed as she heaved, rolling her hips, writhing on the fingers in her cunt.

The hand jerking his cock now felt small. His organ was, iron, the skin more difficult to move all the time, stretched taut as his cock throbbed out to a fat, curving pink stiffness.

He bent to her inner thigh and nibbled it.

Sharon whimpered, "Don't, honey. You mustn't. Buddy, that's too good!"

He licked the satiny flesh, mouthing, eating down toward the smell of hot cunt. He reached her mound. He nuzzled the soft bush. Sharon's hand fell away. He swabbed his tongue clown her coral slit.

She screeched. "Oh, honey! Go boy, go! To my hole!"

He licked her groove, smacking his lips. He probed with his tongue. It slid into her full length, deep into the convulsing hole. He sucked the spill of juice.

He mouthed each big, hairy lip in turn, tugged, shook his head.

Sharon was writhing about now, and pitching about on the bed.

He had to have it. He thrust back, tore her hand from his cock, and climbed over her legs. He reached up her body and cupped his hands on her tits. He mounted her.

"Buddy, you were going to save it for Nancy. You're a bastard. Why did you come in here naked in the first place?"

"You started it," he said.

She had swung her legs together, shutting off his entry to her hole.

"Buddy, I told you before to go away and let me masturbate."

"But, Sis, my cock is so stiff..."

"Then don't give me your shit about protecting Nancy. I want her job. Maybe you'll help me bust her."

"Sis, I couldn't hurt Nancy."

"Then get off me. Go jerk off."

"Sis, please?"

She sighed deeply. "Look, I'll let you slick it into me. But you won't stay in unless you promise."

Her legs were wide apart now. He could see that her hairy twat lips formed a teardrop shape around the glistening pinkish redness of his target. He jabbed his cock at her hole. The end wedged in. She really was tighter than Nancy. He forged onward. The walls of her vagina seemed to clutch his prick and suck at it. The fit was tight as hell. But his shank soon buried itself in her steamy hole. His cockhead throbbed like about to explode.

"Promise," she said.

"Promise what?"

"That if I say to piss on Nancy, you'll do it."

"But, Sis, I can't..."

Sharon slid out from under him like an eel, leaving his cock dripping, chilled by the air. She clamped her jacked-up legs together. From underneath he could see her cunt, the two plump folds of flesh snuggled together. Juice seeped out and drooled down her ass but her outer lips were shut like hairy doors.

"Buddy, do you want it badly enough to piss on Nancy?"

His cock stood up like a wet pink bologna, twitching as he stared at the joined fat halves of her twat. Teasing him, she spread her legs for a moment. The inner, red teardrop was revealed. He groaned as her legs closed.

"All right," he groaned. "Anything, Sharon."

"We'll stand together against the world, Buddy. Nancy will be only an easy fuck as far as you're concerned."

"Yes." He pawed at her knees.

She let him part them. He climbed into the cradle of her thighs. Her legs crossed on his back. He lowered himself, hipping in. When his cockhead nudged her wet split he thrust hard, mercilessly driving it in to the hilt.

Sharon moaned loudly in protest, but a second later her thighs vised on him and her heels pounded his ass. She flung her arms around his shoulders and hugged him down.

He was flat on the hot cushions of her tits, his belly to hers, his cock pronging into the hottest, wettest cunt he had ever imagined. He began fucking hard, smashing full into her on each stroke, ramming as though his life depended on it.

Sharon humped up strongly, meeting his thrusts. She clawed his back and her heels continued beating on his buttocks and spine. She bit his ear, moaned into it, licked his throat, at last found his mouth and plunged her tongue into it.

Sucking his sister's tongue, shuddering with passion as he rammed his cock into her sucking hole, Buddy was a roaring flame, the spew of a blast furnace, an iron man rending cunt flesh with the bone between his legs.

She tore her mouth from his. "God! This is the best fuck of my life. My own brother! Buddy, split my cunt! Punch it through me. I'm coming again. Coming!"

"Again?"

"I've come three times, four tunes. Fuck me, you bastard, you big-cocked whore master, fuck me!"

"Sis, you talk like..."

"Like I'm coming, you cunt lapper! Pound into me!"

Buddy felt that terrible rigidity of orgasm come over him. His cock swelled to a curved baseball bat, arching in and out of her rolling cavity.

He reared up, then bowed his back like a man lifting a log and slammed his body in, whacking her ass and thighs and belly, thrusting his bat in, hearing Sharon shriek, yelling as a gob of cream bowled out through the core of his prick into the belly of his writhing, thrashing, heaving, pitching sister.

A terrible pounding split his head. He was coming all over, shaking, trembling with weakness.

Nancy was nothing. Nancy was just a cunt to shove it into when he could not have his sister.

His second blast was harder to expel, as though stuck in the constricting tube.

"Oh, fuck me, honey!" Sharon sobbed, wrenching her cunt, knotting it on his cock and stripping him out.

He blew off, twice, and yet again into her undulating hole. Then he collapsed, flopping down heavily on her.

He was still panting when she whispered, "Just us, Buddy. Just us against the whole fucking world."

Too exhausted to speak, he nodded agreement.

CHAPTER TEN

That evening Sharon arrived at the motel in a pensive mood.

Nancy greeted her from behind the room desk. Absorbed in her thoughts, Sharon was slow to notice the loudness of Nancy's voice, the high color of her cheeks, the unnatural brightness in her dark eyes. Clearly she was bursting with the desire to tell someone how Buddy's big cock had awakened her sensuality.

Sharon could not let her spill it. Nancy must remain unaware that she knew, until the trap was sprung.

She said, "Nancy, you look terribly pretty tonight."

"I had a good sleep today."

Sharon knew that she was about to giggle at her own lie. She rounded the counter and glanced at the key niches. Four vacancies.

She asked, "Any quickies?"

Nancy, smiling to herself, did not seem to hear.

Sharon sat at the desk. She found the quickie list, a stack of disordered early-call memos, and a stack of bills to be sorted.

She stared at the paperwork. It was all a blur. Today had been too much, starting with her lesbian venture, then watching Buddy fuck Nancy before he got to her.

Her plan to disgrace Nancy and grab her job seemed fuzzy now, outside of her immediate concerns.

She heard Harve's voice.

Her fellow assistant-manager appeared at the counter. A limp hank of hair dangled down his forehead. He was grinning. He held a room key in his hand.

He said, "Sharon, come help me make up the bed in number nineteen. I just got rid of a pair of quickies."

She knew what he wanted and said, "I have to sort these papers."

He said, "You haven't made a patrol yet. I want to show you how things are. There's another booze party."

"Later."

Looking pouty, he turned away and left by the pool exit.

Sharon saw that Nancy, standing at the counter facing away from her, chin on her fists, elbows on the counter, was deep in her own thoughts.

The way the girl's shoulders were hunched raised her short dress. Seated low, Sharon could see under Nancy's skirt. She wore no panties. Her plump white buttocks showed. A fringe of black hair delineated her asscrack.

Nancy without panties. She had really turned on to Buddy. Doubtless, she intended wasting no time removing her clothes when he came tonight. She would plop down, her legs spread, ready for Buddy to shove his cock into a cunt that she had said this afternoon was too big to be filled by any organ except his.

Studying the revealed lower halves of the girl's buttocks, Sharon felt a stirring in her belly. God, she thought, I've really done a flip into lesbianism! I could kneel down behind her and nibble those fat white asscheeks, and lick her sleek thighs, and spread them and tongue up between right now!

Sharon squeezed her pussy. The mere touch of her fingers started her twat to fluttering.

This was no place to sort out her thoughts, not while staring at Nancy's luscious behind.

The girl's legs shifted. She raised her left foot to the lowest counter shelf. Sharon could see the hair-cloaked curve of her split. The lip hair glistened with vaginal dew.

Sharon forced her gaze to the paperwork on the desk.

Fortunately, Nancy was fidgety and could not remain long in one place. She strolled out to the pool, leaving Sharon in charge.

That was when Tom Thornton phoned.

She had not thought of the car salesman since the morning he'd left her off at Lita's house.

He said, "Listen, beautiful. It's arranged. Ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

"What?"

"Our picnic. I've told the boss you're a client. I got his okay."

"All right," she said.

"What kind of sandwiches do you like?"

She frowned, trying to get with him. But he was too alien to her experiences of the day. He was too clean maybe.

She said, "I'll get something from the motel restaurant."

"Then I'll bring the beer. Tomorrow at ten, eh? Here at the Harris salesroom?"

She agreed. She hung, up the phone and went outside to look at the pool, where a few swimmers were frolicking about. She tried to visualize Tom. She had liked him this morning. But events had moved her far from his world. She felt dead on her feet.

She was like that until midnight, a zombie going through the motions of changing quickie beds, dodging Harve, then writing up the early call list while taking her turn at the switchboard.

She hoped that Bud would raise her spirits when he made his midnight inspection tour. His bawdy jokes had often lifted her from the dumps.

But at the stroke of twelve the street door opened and a slim golden, form entered with hair like sunshine and wearing a lemon-colored blouse and white slacks: Lita.

Sharon and Nancy were standing at the counter as the smiling woman came toward them.

She said, "Bud's night off." She slipped a glance at Sharon. Her eyes twinkled. She told Nancy, "I'll make a tour of the units. Maybe Sharon would help me. Sharon?"

Sharon swallowed a hot lump that felt like her bean. Her legs were rubbery as she followed Lita out the pool exit.

There were no swimmers now. Lita walked the tile strip between pool and lawn through the lighted section to the dark end. There a twisted old pepper tree had been preserved during landscaping. She entered its concealing shade. She stopped, turning her back to the trunk, then smiled invitingly, arms outstretched.

Trembling, Sharon moved into her embrace and collapsed against her. She felt the softness of Lita's breasts and belly through their clothes. She wound her arms around the girl's neck.

"Sharon darling, why so frantic?"

"I'm terribly upset. Because, Lita, I loved every moment. But it was my first time!"

The other caressed her back, whispering, "I didn't realize that, baby. You were so passionate. You fooled me. Well, let's cool off for a moment. Here, have a cigarette."

She turned Sharon aside against a low tree limb, and produced a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. The white pants glowed in the night. The material was flesh-tight, compressing her midsection. Despite the poor light, Sharon could see the protruding curved triangle of her pussy. Even the split line showed.

She accepted the cigarette with shaking fingers. Lita lighted them, and then looked out through the lacy veil of pepper leaves at the motel lights.

She said, "Tell me about Nancy. And the boy, what's his name, Harve?"

"What about them?"

"Are they good workers? Steadfast? Nose to the grindstone?"

Sharon was staring at Lita's crotch. She answered absently, "Nancy works hard."

"But you're a better employee than Harve?"

"I think so."

Thoughtful now, Lita slipped an arm around Sharon's waist, then lightly caressed the plump globes of her ass.

She said, "I can't make Bud do anything he considers poor business. But within that framework, darling, well, you can't afford to buy the white sports car on your present salary."

"No."

"Not even if I were to loan you the down payment. Therefore, Nancy has to go."

This pronouncement barely entered Sharon's consciousness. She was eyeing the pale sheen of Lita's hair, the long dark lashes shadowing her eyes, her pouting little underlip. It was dewy with moisture. Her gaze fell to the tip-tilted breasts thrusting at her blouse. The nipples showed through, shaping the material to bumps about the form and size of raspberries. She stared at the tight white slacks cramping Lita's belly and hugging her curved mound.

Lita asked, "Have you any idea how we can get rid of Nancy?"

Sharon was gazing at the other's zipper. Almost without knowing what she was doing, she reached for it and brushed her fingertips down the line of it to the in-curve of Lita's crotch.

Lita laughed; "Precious! Aren't you listening to my plans for your future?"

"No." Her fingers slipped under the material overlapping the zipper and followed the metallic linkage up to the tab. She thumb nailed it and slowly drew it down, exposing three inches of golden belly, then the waistband of Lita's panties. Opening it all the way, she pressed her fingertips into Lita's mound.

"Darling! Is pussy all you think of now? No time for cocks?"

Sharon was breathing hard. She did not answer.

"Sharon, cocks own the world. We have to cope with them too."

She tugged the panty crotch aside. The yellow mound hair expanded as it was released. She fingered into the curly, silky fur.

Lita said, "Please don't distract me. We have to talk about serious things."

Sharon could take no more. She burst into tears.

She flung into Lita's arms, squeezing her breasts against the other's, pressing her belly in, ramming Lita back against the tree trunk. Tears streamed down her face. Why? Why was she cracking up? Because she had never dreamed of having a woman lover? A person willing to conspire to get her a promotion?

Lita had concluded that Nancy must go, by fair means or foul, thus relieving Sharon of guilt over her own intrigues.

Yet there was more. The discovery of her own lesbianism was like a concealed half of her abruptly exploding into view. It had not turned her off men. In fact, it was after sex with Lita that Buddy's fucking had given her the biggest, hottest orgasm of her life. She was still a man's woman.

She gasped, "Lita, I love you. I love you so much!"

Lita was kissing her cheek. Her hands wove about Sharon's back and hips, and caressed her ass.

"Sharon, you will have to prove it."

Sharon frowned, not understanding. "Prove it how?"

"I may make demands on you. I have plans."

"Like?"

"No, no. I can't tell you now. I'm building castles in the sky for us to live in. Let it go at that."

"Whatever you say." Sharon tried to picture a castle in the sky. But the heat of Lita's body distracted her. She kissed her, her yawning mouth sucking the other's, drawing Lita's sweet tongue out of hiding. She licked the succulent morsel and took it down the trough of her tongue. She turned her head to force herself closer. She felt turned on as though the tongue she was licking were a cock. She began rubbing her hands harshly about Lita's neck, then down her body to her hips. She tugged them and ground her pubes on Lita's mound.

They at last parted. Sharon thrust her hands up under Lita's blouse and seized her tits, digging her fingers into the swollen flesh and chafing her palms on stiff, rubbery nipples, while feeling Lita's mouth sucker onto her throat.

"Sharon, honey! Be gentle, darling."

"I want to lap your twat," Sharon rasped. "Right now!"

"Baby, we'll find a room. Not here! Let's go see if some quickies are leaving!"

"I can't wait!" Sharon unhooked the waistband of Lita's slacks and jerked them down, stretching them over the flare of her hips, down her thighs. She dropped to her knees between Lita's feet and faced her crotch. She peeled down the panties. When the first blonde mound hairs appeared she leaned close and kissed them.

The smell of cunt was strong. Her heart pounded.

Lita whispered, "Sweetie, do you really want to? This is a risky place. If someone happened to pass by..." Sharon looked up Lita's body. The blouse was hung up on her nipples. Her tits gleamed. Lita's shadowed face was turned down. Her gaze was tender but her brow creased with concern.

Sharon lowered the panties to Lita's knees. She pressed a kiss into the split of her hairy cuntlips.

"Sharon, we can't let ourselves go this way. I have plans for you, big plans."

"I want to lick your slit," Sharon murmured, tonguing the lips apart.

"Honey, that feels so good! But you must agree."

"Anything. If I can lick your cunt."

"Come to my house this afternoon, prepared for whatever happens."

"All right." Sharon mouthed a hairy outer lip, nibbled, tugged it aside. She tongued the clit hood; then the rosebud itself. Lita gasped. Her hips wrenched. Sharon seized the girl's asscheeks and held her firmly in place while swabbing her tongue down the slobbering trough of her cunt. She sucked each slippery inner lip before arriving at her goal, the oozing mouth of her snatch. Twisting down under her, she shot her tongue straight up and laved the walls of the pulsing tube. She drank the juices, her throat working as the delicious fluids seeped into it.

"Honey," Lita gasped. "Your tongue..." Lita was lowering, her legs bowing put, her twat spreading until steaming flesh pressed Sharon's cheeks.

She fingered the girl's ass, found her anus, and slid a finger into the soft little pucker.

Lita moaned loudly. She closed her hands on the back of Sharon's head and tugged her in closer. She began jerking, fucking Sharon's tongue.

Sharon entered a delirious phase. Holding on with one hand, the index finger skewering her lover's asshole, she dropped the other hand to her own spread legs, under her skirt, into her panties.

Lita moaned, "Honey, I'm starting to come! But it's not fair, you're not getting any."

Sharon quit tonguing long enough to gasp, "I'm masturbating."

She slid two fingers into her hole and thumbed her clit, then returned to the cunt she adored, rubbing her nose on the swollen clitoral bump, and licking into the oozing hole.

"Sharon, I'm into it! My cunt is inside out! Suck it hard, honey. Suck my cunt!"

Sharon burrowed deeper into the convulsing flesh. Lita's thighs vised on her ears as her hips wagged and rotated. Her back arched, crushing her split into Sharon's face.

Sharon's own belly was roaring. Eruptions piled on top of each other. She jerked her hips, driving her twat at the fingers impaling it, crushing her clitoris on the savagely grinding thumb.

Lita cried, "Your tongue. Your tongue! It's like a cock in my hole, honey!"

Sharon felt cunt juice run down her chin to her throat. Even her titties seemed wetted by it.

Shrieking into the gaping hole in which her tongue flagged, she exploded through a cum that wrenched her to the toes. Lita's thighs were crushing her head, but still she licked and sucked. Each flow of juice she swallowed seemed to start a new eruption.

Even after they had both come, she lapped and sucked Lita's cunt.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

While Sharon and Lita were out, Nancy watched the clock over the lobby entrance.

Her gaze followed the sweep of the second hand. After each completed circle she sighed with relief. Another minute had passed, bringing her sixty seconds closer to the moment when Buddy would appear in the doorway, blushing, grinning awkwardly, a foot of thick cock stretching his pants.

Yes, he would arrive bearing a throbbing erection to fill the gaping wetness of Nancy's cunt.

Leaning on the counter, she slid a hand down under her skirt and felt her soggy pussylips. They had been open and wet since this afternoon. She had bathed and douched her cunt, but within five minutes her panties had been wet again. She had then shucked them down to expose her slobbering twat to the drying air.

The second hand completed another circuit.

She remembered her divorce lawyer's advice.

Don't even be seen near another man, any man! It could bust your chances for alimony!

Alimony was only money. This afternoon she had three times milked Buddy's spurting cock, each time coming so hard that she had passed out.

Lita Connoly and Sharon were still out. Nancy had no idea how long they had been gone. She lived only in the circling second hand of the clock.

Then the door burst open, and Buddy entered, grinning and blushing. He looked quickly down the halls. Seeing no one, he darted toward the room desk.

Nancy's dreams were answered. An erection like a flashlight stretched his pants.

Arriving, he clasped her hands and whispered, "Gee, I thought it would never get stiff again. But walking over here I felt it twitch and all of a sudden I was limping."

She wanted to drag him over the counter to her. But a spark of sanity remained.

She whispered, "Quick, go to the women's lounge. Lie down. Open your pants. I'll be there as soon as somebody takes the desk."

He squeezed her hands, then hurried off.

Nancy lifted her skirt and stroked her twat, grinding the heel of her hand on her bushy mound. Her fingers forked the slobbered lips.

The second hand made another tour.

She could endure the waiting now, clutching her pussy and watching the clock, reassured by the certainty that Buddy was near at hand, lying there in the dark, his cock standing up like a barber pole.

She heard voices.

Hurriedly she dropped her skirt. She raised her hands to her hair and patted it into place. Her fingers smelled of cunt.

Sharon and Lita came in the pool entrance. Lita flashed a smile at Nancy. Sharon was frowning. She looked pale. The two went to the front door. She heard the murmur of their voices. Sharon returned alone.

Nancy told her, "I have such a splitting headache. Would you take the desk for a while, Sharon? I'll swallow an aspirin and lie down for a half hour."

Sharon nodded absently.

She seemed upset about something, Nancy thought. Which was just fine. Sharon hardly seemed to notice Nancy hurrying out from behind the counter, ducking into the employees' lounge.

She paused at the door of the women's section to catch her breath. She was trembling with excitement. She could not erase the grin from her face.

She felt a warm trickle of cunt juice run down her leg.

Inside at last, she whispered, "Buddy?"

"Here."

He was behind a partition, lying on a bunk bed, his cock standing up like a pillar. She gazed at the rigid column and the giant pink head capping it. Involuntarily she thrust a hand between her thighs and squeezed her wet pussy.

She moved to him and curled her fingers about the stem, squeezing the bloated flesh. The head felt soft, compressible, like a half-inch of plush sheathing a bony core.

He pinned up at her.

Nancy's hand slid down the shank to his balls. She scooped them up. The loaded scrotum overflowed in her hand. The delicate pink skin was haired with blond fuzz. The fruits within wobbled as she played with the boy's fat sac.

Her impatience was gone. She had him now. Smiling, she bent to the giant cockhead and kissed the tip. She briefly licked the spongy point, then wetted her lips and placed a suckering little circle of lips on the split. She sucked strongly, as though trying to lift the cream right out of the tube.

He grunted, "Nancy, you really suck it right!" She smiled, then caught a tooth in the split and drew it open. She licked the fleck of white lubricant that spurted out, drew it into her mouth and tongued it about before swallowing.

He said, "Nancy, you make it rear up like it's going to shoot! But listen, I don't want you to get info trouble over this."

"Trouble?" she asked, mouthing his cockhead as she spoke.

"If you got caught. Suppose somebody saw you here when you're supposed to be working?"

Nancy could only smile. "Silly boy, I don't give a damn. Now be quiet while I suck your cock."

She wetted her lips again, then forced downward, mouthing the meaty head, stretching her jaw to clear the ridge. She forced downward. The fat pink stem now protruded from her lips. She wanted all of it. But she would take it in bit by bit. She sucked noisily, drew back, sucked another inch downward, retreated. She heard her mouth squish on it. For a moment her head bobbed through little arcs as she worked on an inch of stem. Then her throat was jammed full of cockhead and she paused to readjust, turning to take it sidewise. She could get no more. Several inches still remained outside her rolling, sucking lips.

Buddy cocked a leg up and rested his ankle on her shoulder. He whispered, "Nancy, does sucking make it bigger? It feels like a ball bat. Suppose it stayed hard all the time and I couldn't walk right, just bend over staggering?"

She smiled at the thought. She had to speak. Reluctantly she raised off the succulent prick, licking the head before surrendering it. Then she rubbed the saliva-wet organ against her cheek.

"Buddy, I want to think of you that way, eternally hard, bent over in order to walk."

He chuckled.

"Don't laugh, Buddy. I'm so crazy for it that I think that way. Really, if I close my eyes I see only your fat pink cock."

He grinned and tousled her hair.

Nancy unzipped her dress and stripped it off. She climbed onto the bunk and straddled him.

He said, "Hey, you didn't take off your bra."

"There's no time for that." She squatted on the knob of the upstanding cock looking under herself, she moved her black-haired twat into position. No hands. She should know her way to it by now. She lowered and saw the pink head disappear behind her pubic bush. She felt the plush-sheathed end wedge into her hole. Wriggling, slowly rotating her hips, she sank down on it.

"Buddy! Oh, Buddy!"

It curved up into her split, sliding as though oiled. In a second the plushy head was deep inside her. The whole salami filled and then stretched her cavernous cuntal pocket.

She was coming already.

She slammed her open gash down on his loins.

"Buddy! I'm coming. Coming!"

He grabbed her bra-hardened tits and tried to tear the bra away. He cried, "I want to see your tits flop around!"

"Tear it off!" Her hips jerked at jackhammer speed. On each slam the enormous cock reared up and stabbed her. She thought, Oh, God, it'll burst through my belly! "Oh, what fucking!" she screeched, "I'm coming! My cunt is squirting, it's going to gush. Gush! Argghhh! Buddy, fuck me!"

His fingers hooked into her bra. He wrenched it down and her big breasts spilled out. They flogged about as her whole body wrenched and surged though a brutal, ass-ripping cum. Buddy held her tits and she felt his fingers dig into the meaty flesh, and pull at the nipples swollen out as hard as little cocks about to shoot off. He raised up and tried to suck her tits, but she was thrashing wildly, jerking her breasts from his hands, flinging back and sitting straight up, rotating on the cock that formed the core of her being.

"Buddy, my cunt is going. My cunt! Going! Oh, my God, Buddy, I'm coming on your cock!"

Suddenly the whole thing broke. Everything inside her spilled out.

She flopped down on him, weeping and laughing as her body surged through an orgasm that wrung her dry and dead. She felt like jelly spreading out on the hot body of her lover.

When Nancy came to, she became aware of his hard meat still hooked up into her cuntal cavity. Her first conscious effort was an attempt to squeeze her vaginal sphincter on the curved stalk.

She failed.

Next she felt a pressure between her pubes and his cock, a bloated, uncomfortable feeling.

Her bladder was about to burst.

She whispered feebly, "I have to go pee." Having proven that she now had the power of speech, she roused the strength to kiss his cheek, then screw her tonguetip into his ear. She mouthed it, saying, "I'll have to get up, but I don't feel able."

"Want help?"

"Uh-huh."

He rolled her off him and slid her to the floor. She balanced on her feet. Buddy was sitting up now.

He said, "Your tits look funny, hanging out like that."

She saw that her bra was still fastened, but mostly empty. One breast was completely out, the other raised to half-mast by a web of bra hammock.

Giggling, she hooked the tit harness. Buddy leaned to her and mouthed a nipple. Sighing, she stood there and let him suck.

She still had to pee.

She was looking at his erect cock. It glistened with cunt juice.

She said, "Come with me. I'll suck your prick while I piss. Okay?"

He ginned. "You sure go all out, Nancy."

"I don't dare leave you for a minute. You might meet some other girl while my back is turned."

He followed her into the john, which was like a home powder room, furnished with a sink, mirror, and toilet.

She squatted on the seat, spreading her thighs to let him step in. She reached out for the pink shaft of his cock and in a moment was lipping the head, giving it little sucks and tongue lashes.

Her urine began hissing into the bowl.

She had meant to simply toy with the blunt tip of his cockhead, but in mouthing it she became aroused. She thrust forward, taking the whole head and a hand's length of stem into her oral cavity. Closing her eyes, she sucked the pulsing meat.

He said, "Some time you're going to suck the head of it right off."

Smiling, she gathered his nuts in her hands and pressed them to the stem as she sucked.

She had just finished peeing when she heard a voice.

It was a deeper voice than Buddy's, harsher. It stabbed splinters of icy fear into the depths of her belly. Nancy looked up from the pink cock protruding from her lips.

Harve.

He was standing there beside Buddy, hands on hips, a strand of lank hair dangling over one eye.

"Dear, sweet Nancy," he mocked. "Nancy, who wouldn't say cock if she had a mouthful."

She jerked back. The meaty prick reared out of her lips.

She came screamingly awake. She was squatting naked on the john, her thighs spread, the last drops of pee splashing in the bowl. She had been caught with a cock in her mouth. Instantly, tears streamed down her cheeks.

Buddy stood gaping at the intruder.

Harve told him, "In case you don't remember me, I'm Nancy's assistant. Sharon and I are her two helpers, underpaid, abused slobs who keep the ship afloat while Nancy blows cocks. Well, Nancy?"

She could hardly see him through the tears pooling in her eyes.

His hands moved. She heard the screech of a zipper. He thumbed a dark length out of his open fly.

"Nancy maybe you'd like to lick my candy cane?" She looked to Buddy for help. He had fallen back against the wall. His face, was crimson. How young he looked, how helpless! Harve was a few years older, old enough to have confidence in his ability to cow both of them. She choked, "Harve, I have to explain how frustrated I was..."

"Nancy, I'll level with you. I don't want to go tell Bud Connoly that you spend your working hours sucking cock. I'm not sneaky. I just want mine. I'll look forward to the night's work if I know that you'll blow me. Isn't that square enough?"

"Harve, I don't want..."

He stepped neater. "Don't say you don't like it until you've tried. Come on, lip my meat."

The long, slim, hard-looking cock was before her face. It lacked the girth of Buddy's, but there was a maturity about it, a hardness, and the head looked immense.

He poked it at her lips.

She tried to back away, but Harve knotted his fingers into her hair and forced her to it. She gritted her teeth.

"Eat it, you bitch!" he snarled.

She shot an imploring glance at Buddy.

Buddy was trying to squeeze back through the wall. His face was ashen now.

She smelled the male musk of Harve's pubic tuff. It made her gasp.

His cock jammed into her open mouth.

She had to. She let it force her teeth apart and slide up to her palate. She closed her lips and mouthed the stem. She shut her eyes and nerved herself up to sucking it. There was no choice.

Her lips rolled on the rigid shaft and she sucked at the bulging head inside her mouth, then laved it with her tongue.

Suddenly something broke inside her, like a wall crumbling. She hurriedly rebuilt the wall but found a hole in it, and through the hole Harve's cock poked into her. She was sucking it, hungrily, lovingly. Her hands moved as though detached from her being, up his thigh to his prick. She fisted the stem and slowly jerked it off. Her other hand dove into his pants and searched for his scrotum. When she found it she gurgled with joy. She fondled his nuts as she rhythmically sucked and jerked his cock.

Harve laughed. "You like that meat, don't you, Nancy?"

She nodded, sucking her cheeks in to the shape of the knob inside.

Harve said, "Buddy, we'll share the wealth. Your pecker looks kind of wilted. Let Nancy blow it up hard. You don't mind sucking two cocks, do you Nancy?"

Buddy, looking sheepish, came and stood beside Harve. Harve abruptly pushed her back off his cock. She tried to cling to it but it whipped out of her mouth as though oiled.

Buddy's prick had indeed gone soft. She closed her hand on it and kneaded it lovingly, then raised the dangling head to her lips. She licked it, nibbled it, then gulped and she had the whole thing, all of his lovely pink semi-hard prick.

She still held Harve's stem in her free hand. She jerked it off as she sucked Buddy.

Slowly Buddy's blood boiled into his prick and it rose, lengthening. The stem grew out of her lips.

When it was fully engorged she uncorked and turned to Harve's and sucked the head of his. She turned from one to the other then, holding a prick fisted in each hand.

Harve asked, "Want to try both at once?"

"They're too big," Nancy said.

But she tried it. The two guys moved together and jabbed in, stretching her mouth painfully. She managed to lick both of them, however, and taste the dollops of white lubricant issuing from the two pricks.

She gathered up a scrotum in each hand.

Harve said, "Hell, this is no good. All I can feel is tongue. No suction at all. Let's go into the other room. Buddy can fuck you while you give me a real, deep-down blow job."

He withdrew his cock and pushed Buddy away.

He gasped Nancy's arm and raised her from the john. She staggered after him. He found a straight chair and sat on it, directing Nancy to kneel between his legs.

She obeyed, dropping to the floor and resting her arms on Harve's spread thighs. She gazed at the cockhead before her, a dark, wide, mushroom shape. She leaned to it and licked the end. She opened her mouth to gulp it.

Harve knuckled her jaw aside.

"Wait," he said. "Buddy, you kneel down and shove it into her from behind. Use either hole, I don't give a shit which."

Buddy said, "Listen, I don't like this. Nancy is my girl."

Harve glared at him. "She's been my boss and has treated me like dirt. Now she gets hers. Both ends. I always knew she was a hot cunt, but she thought she was too good to fuck with me. Okay, she's turned on now and she's going to suck cock until her jaw falls off."

Buddy whimpered, "I don't want to. I mean..."

"You little yellow-haired asshole, I'll kick you through a wall if you don't do like I said!"

Buddy gave in. Soon Nancy felt the heat of his body behind her, his hands spreading her big asscheeks, then the familiar, beloved nudging in her cunt as his cockhead opened a path.

Her fingers writhed over Harve's cock. She lunged for it.

Again he knuckled her chin to the side.

He growled, "Wait until Buddy is into you. Shit, have you got a big ass! Your hams look like two oversized basketballs. I thought Sharon had a big rump, but, baby, you have one as wide as a barn door."

Buddy said, "Don't talk about my sister!"

"Hell. I'll talk all I want. I fuck your sister every night. And you shove your meat into this cunt so she can start sucking my prick. I want yours in first."

Nancy felt Buddy's rod slide up her cuntal cave. Full, she grunted. Her twat was gulping at the fat meat, knitting gelatinous strands about it, tying all those knots that built up into the big, Gordian knot that could be untied only by the cutting blade of orgasm. His loins flattened her asscheeks.

She choked, "Harve, I'm boiling inside. I'm starting to wind up toward an orgasm! I'm going to come!"

He pinched her chin between thumb and forefinger. She looked up at his dark, beady eyes.

He said, "Beg for it, Nancy."

Red flashes before her eyes blotted out her view of his face. She moaned. "I want it, Harve. Let me suck your cock!"

Buddy's tool rammed into her and she felt her gushing begin. Another hundred knots tangled in her cunt, knitting it into a sleeve rippling on his organ.

She pleaded, "Harve, fuck my mouth. Please!"

At last he gave it to her.

She fell on it, impaled her mouth on the bony length. Her nostrils flared, drinking in his smell. She fisted the stem and jerked. She cupped the balls in her hands and rolled them together.

Harve patted her cheek. "You're a good cocksucker, Nancy. I'll let you blow me every night. Would you like that?"

She backed off, but kept the head in her mouth when she said, "Yes, every night. And you'll fuck me, too, Harve. Harve, are you going to come in my mouth?"

He did not answer.

She heard Buddy yell, "Ahhh! There it is, take my load!"

His cock was ramming wildly in her, stretching the Gordian knot of her snatch, which quirked and convoluted, writhed and sucked at the giant cylinder of meat.

But she did not come. She knew why. She wanted to come on Harve's load. She sucked more gently now, voluptuously mouthing the long man rod, licking the tasty head. Buddy's cream flew into her belly but she still did not come. He yelled and banged her, ramming her with that king-sized cock. But she only smiled and turned her head to explore the contours of the curved iron prick in her mouth, and swabbed it with the flat of her tongue.

Harve was the boss, in command. That was all. Buddy was only a child.

She felt Buddy's cock wither and slip out of her. Goo ran down her legs, a mixture of pent-up cunt juice and his cum.

Resting her head on Harve's thigh, she tongued his organ from her mouth.

She whispered, "Harve, I didn't come."

She felt his rough hand stroke her cheek.

"Harve, would you like to fuck me?"

"Just a minute. Buddy, you get your ass out of here. Go find yourself some teen-age pussy. Nancy is my cunt, my private stock. Dig?"

Buddy whimpered, "Nancy, what should I do?"

"Split," Harve told him.

"Split," Nancy echoed.

She bent Harve's cock to her mouth. She sucked at the tip. She heard noises that meant Buddy was leaving. Or maybe he was, not. It was not her concern. She had a man now. Buddy's departure was Harve's business.

A plan formed in her mind. She could quit her job and recommend that Harve take it. If their fucking were discreet, she would soon get her divorce. She could live on the alimony.

Yes, she wanted Harve to take her job.

At last he said, "Buddy's gone. Let's get on the bed."

He helped her up. She spilled down on the bed, on her back.

"Nancy, pull your legs back. Wide apart. So you can wrap them around me as soon as I shove in. That's how I like it, climbing on the bed and seeing the undersides of your thighs and your ass turned up, and your twat open. Dig?"

Smiling, she grasped her knees and pulled them back. She felt Harve plant a kiss right in the middle of her yawning gash.

Then he climbed onto her, a lean, dark, hairy, naked guy with a yard of prick that instantly sank into her and plumbed the depths of her hole. She armed him in, crossed her ankles and rested her heels on his buttocks.

His hands cupped her tits. His cock had seemed to fill her, but more now stretched her cunt. She squeezed her sphincter in, making her cunt gulp at the rigid meat.

He rasped, "You sure have a hot hole, Nancy. The best!"

"Better than Sharon's?"

"What about her?"

"You've fucked her, haven't you? Just like you told Buddy?"

"Sure, but listen, she's just a little hooker on the make. I mean, she's trying to bust you out of your job. That's why she brought Buddy around, knowing you, needed some meat bad. But you're a real woman, Nancy. You and I can have a terrific racket here if we stick together. But we don't dare trust Sharon."

She kissed his cheek, then whispered, "Are you going to talk about Sharon or fuck me?"

He grinned. "First I'm going to suck your big tits."

He twisted down to them, raising each in a hand, licking the rampant nipples, then wolfing in flesh.

Smiling, Nancy wrapped her limbs tightly about him. She waited. Soon he abandoned her titties, snuggled into her crotch, and began jogging inside her.

The first spasms wrenched at her snatch.

He rode her hard. Long strokes tore into her. She arched up, choking, "You're coming, Harve! You're going to come inside me!"

He laughed. "Not yet, baby. You're used to Buddy's hair-trigger kid stuff."

How long did it last? Nancy's belly unknotted and gushed, and still he churned her frothing hole. She flew up to still another peak before his blast came and shot through her body. His cream seemed to spurt up her cunt to her throat. Strangling, thrashing, exploding over the peak, she took load after load while shrieking and moaning.

She sagged down, exhausted, but Harve still pumped his long cock in and out of her gaping hole.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In the morning, off duty, Sharon changed to shorts and halter for her picnic date with Tom Thornton.

Last night when Lita left, she had tucked a small envelope into Sharon's bra. It had contained five one-hundred-dollar bills, a down payment on the little white car. Two days ago Sharon would have shrieked with joy. Now the car seemed unimportant.

Lita had said to come at three this afternoon. There would be something special. Somehow, Sharon felt that she was losing control of her own destiny.

Another thing bothered her. Just before dawn, she had noticed strange looks passing between Nancy and Harve. It was almost like the two had a thing going between them.

But that was impossible: Buddy was supposed to come to the motel in the wee hours. She had not seen him. She guessed he had slept through the night.

She went out to the restaurant kitchen and picked up the picnic lunch she had ordered, then left for the street. She walked in blinding sunshine toward Harris Motor Sales.

She did not have to go inside. Tom Thornton stood at the curb beside the battered blue demonstrator, grinning at her.

She smiled back.

When she was close she took Lita's envelope from her purse and gave it to him.

"Down payment on the white car," she said.

Examining the money, he frowned. He studied her. "You don't seem very excited about it."

"I'm tired, I guess."

"I know: a long, hard night. Like the night before." He shrugged. "Climb into the car. I'll put your money in the safe."

Sharon shoehorned herself into the little bomb. Shortly Tom came and took the wheel.

As he drove out to the seacoast road he said, "Behind the seat is some beer. A can of it should revive you."

She found a couple of six-packs. She popped a can and sat there, holding it between her breasts.

Tom said, "I'd thought of going up the coast to a quiet beach I know of, but rain is predicted. My uncle has a fishing cabin on one of the lakes. We could picnic on the porch, or duck inside if rain comes. Okay?"

Nodding in agreement, she sipped the beer. Rain seemed unlikely in this blazing sunshine. She took the dark glasses from, her purse and hid herself behind them, thinking, Tom is a nice guy, thoughtful, decent. What am I doing with him?

He had swung inland on the highway east when the first spatter of raindrops struck the windshield. He stopped the car and put up the top. Rain drummed on it now. Sharon slumped down in her seat, drinking beer and wondering what Lita had planned for the afternoon.

She had hinted that Sharon might not like it, but simply had to go through with it.

Tom said, "You stay too close to your job. You have to get away once in a while."

She smiled at him. "Maybe you're right."

"Now days there's such pressure to get ahead that people grind away at the job until they've lost track of what they're aiming for."

She had to agree. It described her perfectly. What, indeed, was she aiming for? She had the white bomb within her grasp. But having achieved that, her hands still seemed empty.

Thoughtful now, she finished the beer and popped another.

The rain hung in misty curtains about them. Straggly palm heads hung dripping and forlorn under the weight of water. In the fields hump-backed gray cows stood knee-deep in grass while placidly eyeing the passing car, ignoring the downpour.

Sharon listened to the singing of the tires on wet pavement, and the throaty growl of the motor. She felt good now, floating on beer, shut into the tiny car by the rain, and away, away from everything.

Shortly Tom turned off the highway into an asphalt road; then a gravel one winding through a live oak forest. They ended up on mud tracks at a shanty that hung over the banks of a pond. The shack was unpainted, but new yellow pine shingles indicated that it was decently kept up. They sprinted through the rain to the porch, half of which was sheltered by an overhang. The rest formed a boat dock. A rowboat half-full of water was tied to a piling.

Inside, the place was simply furnished, a bed, stove, a table, some chairs, and a quilted Sharon found the rustic simplicity of the place reassuring. She plopped down on the bed and kicked off her sandals.

Tom sat at the table. He popped a beer can.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"No. Not yet."

He tilted back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He gazed out the open doorway at the rain.

He said, "Later on we could go fishing."

She nodded. Rain pounded on the roof Tom, gazing out at the pond, seemed self-contained, demanding nothing of her.

She dozed, calmed by his lack of urgency. She awoke somewhat later, feeling the bed sag under his weight.

He was sitting on the edge. He asked, "Hungry now?"

Feeling refreshed, she smiled up at him. "No hurry." She stretched. She recalled a flicker of a dream, riding in a car, Tom driving, a comforting dream.

"Tom, I like being with you." He grinned. "Thanks."

"But you're kind of a mystery. What do you do with yourself?"

"I sell cars."

"You said you make good money. How do you spend it?"

"I take flying lessons, which really cost. You have to hire both an instructor and a plane."

This aroused her interest. She raised up on an elbow, studying him.

He said, "I have a lot to learn. Some day I'll buy a light plane for cross-country trips. Take along a sleeping bag, see the world."

"It sounds yummy."

"Want to go along?"

She nodded, smiling broadly.

He rose and went to the table. She heard a beer can pop. He brought it to her and resumed his seat.

She asked, "Tom, do you like me?"

"I like things I see in you. Your determination, for instance."

"Not my body?" She smiled.

"I was watching you sleep. You were turned on your side. I saw that you're not wearing a bra. One breast laid on top of the other. That started my randy thoughts. Sure, you make me horny. And you're awfully pretty. But, like I told you, pretty chicks flock to a guy like me who has a bankroll."

"I'd like to go flying on cross-country hops with you, Tom."

"Just one sleeping bag?"

"Two! I'm not the kind of girl you think."

But her eyes twinkled.

She gulped at her beer, then lay back holding the chill can between her breasts. Tom reached for it. His hand did not arrive. Instead his fingers slid under her halter and lifted it, peeled it up her body, baring her rosy-capped mounds. He pressed a fingertip to a nipple. It struggled to rise against the pressure. His finger roved, slowly circling the stiffening peg, teasing the aureole into a puffy growth.

He said, "I figured you were the kind of girl to work, help, scrimp and save. To buy a plane, for instance. Or whatever we wanted. See, cross country hops would be lonely unless I had the right girl along."

His fingers left her breast, closed on the beer can. He took a swig.

She said, "Don't quit what you were doing. It felt reassuring. Comforting."

"Why do you need reassurance?"

"I'm into something I'm not very proud of."

"Want to tell me about it?"

He cupped his hand on her breast, then bent to it and tenderly kissed the nipple. Sharon fingered the back of his neck, pressing him into the firm mound of tit. His tongue slowly circled the nipple. She smiled, closed her eyes. He licked about it, nibbled, at last sucked his mouth full.

Her breast felt huge as his lips and tongue worked on it. He drew in until her nipple lodged in his throat.

She caressed his curly hair, thinking about soaring in a light plane through blue skies, suddenly swooping earthward, screaming with terror, then winging over and rising like a gull on the wind.

He drew off, stretching the glistening nipple with his lips.

"Good?" he asked.

"Uh-huh. Dreamy. But my halter binds."

He helped her take it off. Her white breasts now mounded like pink-peaked white melons perched on her suntanned flesh.

She watched him suck the other breast. When he drew away, both nipples were sticking up like thumbs.

Sharon guessed she should be coy with a guy who had chicks chasing him, but she moved by instinct now, reaching to the zipper tab of her shorts, wrenching it down, exposing low-slung white panties figured with yellow flowers, down to the crotch, letting him see her fluffy pubic bush lift the loose panty material.

She watched his hand climb her thigh to her mound.

He said, "You don't seem like a girl that would need a separate sleeping bag."

"I was. I've changed my mind."

"I'm flattered."

She reached to the ridge of cock lifting his pants. She caressed the long, bony shank and squeezed the knob.

He said, "At last I've met an honest girl! You want it, don't you?"

She nodded. "Somehow I feel like being honest with you. But I warn you, Tom. I can be awfully shitty. Sometimes I hate myself. Like this situation I'm involved in. I feel ashamed."

He placed a hand over her mouth. "Shut up, woman, while I undress you."

She looked down her body. He tugged at her shorts and panties. Her belly hair fluffed out to a thick auburn bush. He whipped the garments away and then fingered between her thighs. She spread her legs for him. He squeezed her damp cuntlips between his fingers.

He said, "Your snatch is as hairy as I've ever seen."

"Do you want me to shave it bald?"

"No, God no. I like it. But would you?"

"If I loved you."

"You don't."

"A girl never knows that until she's felt the guy inside her."

He burst into laughter. "Okay. I can take a hint." He peeled off his shirt. His chest was thatched with dark, curly hair. She eyed his torso appreciatively -- lean, hard, narrowing to small hips. His body was very different from Buddy's.

Buddy.

She cringed. No, don't think of him. Or of Lita. Just this nice, strong, lean, hairy man now wrestling out of his pants and shorts, a foot of cock curving up into view, hard, rigidly bent in an arc shaped to fit her cunt, tipped with a large knob that would need good lubrication to enter comfortably.

He climbed onto the bed between her legs.

Sharon found that she was smiling. How strange! Always, this moment had been one of throbbing excitement, or sometimes fear that had made her teeth chatter. But she felt calm, and, seeing his grin and the twinkle in his dyes, she smiled broadly. She drew her legs back, her feet flat on the quilted spread. She raised her arms and cupped her hands on his shoulders as he came over her.

She glanced down and saw the arrowhead capping his long curve of cock near her crotch. She widened the spread of her thighs. Her mound rose, a fleshy, thickly bushed prominence. She drew her legs back, raising her feet high. She could see the split in her pussy and the dark curved cock shifting downward, the flared head vanishing below her belly hair.

The first touch was gentle but firm, a plush-soft bulk sliding down her gash and nuzzling the portals of her hole.

She fingered the line of Tom's jaw and drew him down to her. Her ankles met above his back. They linked. His body lowered as she heeled his spine.

The big head wedged into her, completely choking the rim of her cunt.

He grinned. "Am I ringing any bells?"

She shook her head. "No, thank God. You're just a nice guy squeezing your cockhead into me, soft and easy and good, like you know I'll love it and you want me to sort of wallow in every sensation."

"Wallow away, honey."

"First, slide it in."

He sank down. The lusty shaft squeezed into her. She wriggled, raised an inch, then let it slowly penetrate, filling her slit, reshaping her snatch to an oval tube that sucked tight on the rigid meat, yet gave with it, opened and stretched, taking more and more length, much more.

At last his pubic hair pressed her open, jellied split and held firm.

She curled her arms about his shoulders and clung. She mouthed his cheek.

She felt content. Her cunt was full and a man's weight was flattening her titties, and her arms and legs were about him, holding fast. She felt lazy, voluptuous, and supremely happy.

Tom whispered, "I never slid it into a girl that way before, with her legs raised and wide apart, her cunt open. It was delicious, honey. And your twat feels like melted butter."

She kissed his ear, then fell slack, smiling in a way she thought must look foolish but which was merely a reflection of the loose gaping of her cunt.

She asked, "Are you really going to buy an airplane and a sleeping bag?"

"You seem to dig the idea. Is that why you're letting me fuck you?"

"You're not fucking me. All I feel is a hard prick loafing in my cunt. No, I'm not here to get an airplane ride. I'm here because I trust you, I think. Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'd be scared of flying. Fly me a little, will you?"

He jogged inside her, short thrusts deep in her cunt. Sharon tightened the grip of her legs and pulled her insides on the stabbing prick. She drew a long, hard suck off it.

"Wow!" Tom said; "That's a grabby hole you've got there."

She giggled. "Quit complaining and fuck it."

He drew back, then delivered a long, sliding thrust that exploded in her belly and made Sharon's feet jerk up at the ceiling. Her toes fanned out, stretching stiffly away from each other.

He delivered another thrust. She moaned, "Ohhh, Tom! You'll hole me to the throat!"

He slid his hands under her ass, lifted her, bowed his back and hammered in, splitting her with that sweet, big cockhead, driving the length of curved iron up into her.

She thought she could see it raise her belly button. But that was not possible. Her cunt began to knot on it. A hundred knots drew tight, burning, swelling, crushing the tool that kept wedging her passage open. She closed wrenchingly each time he drew back. He had to split her anew on each thrust.

She heard her cunt suck at the hot meat.

A ball of fire filled the room. Bracing her heels on his back she arched up, whacking herself at him, meeting each long slam.

"Tom, I'm coming. Ohhh, Tom, honey, shoot it into me, please shoot!"

He panted, "I can hold off. I'll let you squeeze out a bunch of orgasms."

"No, I want this one! I want you to shoot me full of cream! Spew it into me, shoot my cunt full. Please! Fuck me harder!"

"You asked for it," he said, and reared up, bucking, slamming against her so loudly she seemed to hear echoes from the walls.

Her orgasm had peaked and she went screeching downhill, but found another mountain rising, lifting her on the hardening and lengthening of his cock. A tree trunk was ramming into her and she arched up, whacked her hairy twat at his loins. She clung desperately to the brute force jacking up and down in the enclosure of her arms and legs, sliding that monster weapon into her gaping cunt, making it splash when he struck home.

She could smell her cunt now, and that told her how hot it was.

Tom backed until his cockhead escaped her, then entered with a mighty rush. She knew this was it even before he spoke.

"I'm coming!" he cried. "Shooting, baby!" Then, louder, "I'm going to shoot a ball into you!"

His spew blasted her cuntal pocket, which sucked on it, consumed it, soaked it up and waited for the next dollop.

His cum broke her knot. Dissolved it. Vaporized it. Her cunt came apart and went spilling downhill from the peak, a jelly oozing, then becoming the ooze, a rivulet dribbling down her burning ass. And still he churned on.

Her orgasm was ebbing away. She sagged, voluptuously aware of every contour of the stiff cock sliding in and out of her.

At last Tom was still.

Sharon slid out from under and curled down his body to mouth his softening prick. She sucked the last flecks of white cream from it, and licked up the coating of cunt juice. The taste of cunt made her think of Lita. But Lita was distant, far beyond her horizons.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sharon drowsed on the way back to town, smiling at her recollections of their half-day at the fishing shack.

After their first fuck the sun had come out, letting them swim naked in the pond. They caught some frogs in a bait net, then let them go. Indoors again, they ate sandwiches and drank up the beer and screwed their heads off.

But now she had to face her three-o'clock date with Lita.

The sun had vanished again. Gloomy clouds hung low over the grazing lands.

Abruptly, Tom asked, "Would you like to live with me?"

This startled her.

He said, "My apartment is a little place on Liberty Street. I can't afford better while I'm saving to buy the plane. But two people would pay the same rent as one."

At the fishing shack everything had seemed clear. She was crazy about Tom. But now they were nearing town and through her mind swirled her other world -- Buddy and Nancy and Harve, Lita and Bud Connoly -- the world of her intrigues, and the little white car. Somehow it all blotted Tom out.

They parted at the Harris salesroom.

She hailed a taxi and rode toward the Connoly house, wondering why she had not let Tom drive her there. Ashamed?

It was more complicated than that.

The white house looked immense, splendid, enchanted in the gray light seeping through the clouds pressing down on it.

Lita met her at the door, golden Lita in a dressing gown. When the taxi had rolled away Lita hugged her and enveloped her mouth in a sucking, soft-lipped kiss.

She ushered Sharon into the little green room where they had first made love. In this murky light, the outlines of the furniture were blurred. Sharon dropped heavily on the couch. She kicked off her sandals and drew her feet up under her.

She said, "Lita, you mentioned something special. Unusual."

Lita waved her hand in a graceful, negligent manner. "I hope that thinking about it hasn't upset you. Here, I'll get you a drink to settle you down. Special? Yes, I think so. And you'll love it."

"Are you being mysterious just to tease rue?"

"Perhaps I am." Lita left the room. Shortly she returned, bearing a tray, a cocktail shaker and two stemmed glasses. She set the tray on the coffee table before the couch and sat beside Sharon.

Sharon eyed her. Lita's lovely, jutting, golden breasts, the dainty tuft of pussy hair marking her crotch, the long, sleek legs, were as yesterday, the same as last night, but somehow Sharon did not feel that crazy urge to make it with the woman. The image of Tom's dark, stiffly curved cock was still weaving about in her mind.

Lita poured drinks. "Sleep all day?"

"Not all day."

She wondered at the evasiveness of her answer. Why not tell Lita she had been fucking with a wonderful young man? It would seem disloyal, she guessed. This was her boss' house, and his wife. Her job, her promotion, depended on this. So she held her tongue.

The drink Lita had poured for her was crystal clear, a dry martini. She sipped it. Strong.

Lita's fingers wove into hers. "Darling, you're thoughtful. Trouble?"

"I'm not quite awake yet I guess." She sipped more of the drink. Really strong. But it slipped down her throat like lemonade. She drank most of it.

Observing that, Lita smiled. "Darling, you'll get high as a kite."

"I need it."

Lita refilled the glass. As Sharon sipped it she felt the girl's arm curl about her shoulders. The touch was not unpleasant, but it was, to tell the truth, nothing.

She settled back against the couch, with Lita watching her intently. Sharon drank most of the second glass, then set it on the table. Enough. She felt loose right down to her toes.

Something strange happened. It began as a blush seeping down her cheeks to her throat. Then her titties became hot and seemed to swell out before her. Her cunt felt like it was expanding, forcing her legs apart. She uncrossed them, spreading her thighs to make room for her bloating pussy.

She gasped, "Lita, that drink was terribly strong."

"I warned you, sweetie."

Sharon looked at the other girl's face. Her dark eyelashes seemed to have grown out to inky fans. Beneath them her eyes glowed darkly. The cores were ruby lights. Her mouth was crimson, a gaping wound in which pearly teeth held her glistening tonguetip trapped.

The room had become darker.

Sharon turned to Lita. Their mouths met. Her own lips felt fat, magnified, sucking voluptuously at the other's, admitting a giant tongue and licking it slowly, sensuously, wallowing in the exchange of liquid caresses. It was a kiss with, somehow, more than two tongues in it. Her fingers stroked Lita's cheeks, and the velvet of her flesh was so delicate that she plucked it out, worked it in her fingers as though testing to make sure it was human.

She gazed at Lita's breasts, cones protruding in the gown.

Then Lita whispered, "Darling, please undress."

Sharon numbly obeyed. She rose from the couch and stretched the halter out in front, lifting it up her titties. She did it more slowly than she had ever done anything before. As she skinned the halter over her head and up her arms she realized that the drinks had done this. Had there been something besides gin and vermouth in the glass?

She unhooked the waist of her shorts, zipped down, eased the garments to her knees and let them fall. She stood there, cupping her hands on her breasts and exploring them. They did not seem like hers. She had to reach far out in front of herself to grasp the giant red caps, which were too large for her hands to cover.

She switched her torso. The huge tits swayed like a pair of watermelons floating within her encircling arms.

She asked, "Lita, what was in that drink?"

"A mild aphrodisiac, darling. I know, people say that true aphrodisiacs do not exist except for the dangerous Spanish fly. But if you're willing to pay, there is a source."

Sharon dropped her hands to her pussy. Trying to encompass it was like exploring a hairy, spilt football. No, that was not the shape of it, but the size. She placed a hand in her gash. A voluptuous rolling began within her. She looked down at Lita, who had opened her transparent negligee.

Lita was equally transformed. Her breasts were swollen spheres, like pumped-up balloons capped with giant red puffs drawn out to long points like cocks. And Lita's tidy little blonde pussy had grown to a yellow jungle protruding a foot.

Sharon crouched over her. She had to test the illusion that Lita's nipples were two red cocks. She fingered one. Had her hand somehow diminished?

She fisted the length of nip and found that the rosy tip protruded from the index finger and thumb circling it. She bent to the other nipple, her mouth yawning. The nip filled her mouth like a banana. And yet, as she sucked it, the cylinder seemed to return to its old proportions. Had her mouth grown larger? She faced an aureole the size of a dinner plate, mounted on a golden bill.

She shut her eyes to try and get her bearings. By feel, the nipple in her lips was normal, but when she looked all she could see was a puffed aureole larger than her face.

She felt Lita's hand move in between her legs. Gentle fingers stroked her cunt. Curd drool spilled and the touch became buttery. Her hole was a flyer, flowing endlessly.

At last she rose up from the girl's tit and looked into her eyes.

"Lila, you said there would be something special. I like this. It's queer, but really groovy. Strange, though."

"Honey, the drug is only a preliminary. The really special thing is behind you. Here, sit down."

Sharon dropped to the sofa, into the curve of Lita's arm. Her vision seemed heavy. With an effort she swung her gaze in the direction Lita had indicated.

There stood Bud Connoly.

Her boss was naked, a dark, stocky wedge of a man, his chest matted with black fur. His cock was fully erect.

Sharon stared at it. Her perception of him was as inflated as those of Lita. This was no cock, but a cylinder of dark meat as big as his thigh. The head of it, she thought, was like a coconut. And the scrotum hanging from his crotch was a black-haired bag stretched by two great cobblestones. But when he spoke, reality returned.

"I seem to recall seeing you two girls in some whorehouse."

His standard joke told in his drawling, country-boy accent.

Lita laughed.

Sharon felt Lita's arm curl tighter about her. A hand raised her right breast. A thumb rubbed the nipple.

Bud sat down on the coffee table, close enough that his knee almost touched Sharon's. His cock angled up toward her face. His scrotum hung down from the table, the immense balls resting on the floor.

He said, "Now don't you girls pay me any mind. I'll just sit here and watch you have fun."

Out of the chaos of her mind, Sharon pulled some truths. She was naked in Lita's arms. Lita's husband sat facing them, naked. He was grinning, his cock erect. He wanted to watch two girls making love.

Lita said, "Sharon darling, this is my little surprise. You see, Bud is never unfaithful to me because he prefers waiting until I can really turn him on with another girl. Oh, we've been watching you for months. You fill our needs perfectly. Above all, you are rapaciously ambitious. You will do anything to get Nancy's job. You see, Bud is not -- nor am I -- interested in a quickie. We want a girl we can count on to join our little family."

Bud said, "Lila told me about the little old white car you got your heart set on, Sharon. It's yours. And so is Nancy's job."

Sharon could not believe it.

Lita said, "We had to start with you and me, darling. Because Bud insists that the girl who joins our family must really like cunt. He can't be fooled. Will you show him how you adore my pussy?"

The words sank slowly into the drugged fuzziness of Sharon's mind.

She had already decided on a course of her own. She wanted to feel Bud's cock. While Lita spoke she was reaching for it. She clasped the knob. Rather, she closed her hand on one side of the flared head. She could not have encompassed the entire bulb, even using both hands.

She then obeyed Lita's command. The girl had cocked up a leg, and Sharon bent down to her bloated, yellow-haired cuntlips. She licked the coral gash and sucked loudly. Then she curled her lips about the clit and tugged at it.

Lita moaned and squirmed about.

The size of the clit seemed to vary. Sharon realized, however, that she controlled its dimensions, and by desiring it to grow she found that the elusive, slippery pink thing could fill her mouth with pulsing flesh. She rose up, intending to tell them of her experience.

Bud said, "Say, you do go down like honey, Sharon. Watching you suck cunt makes my pecker jump like a hound dog shot in the ass."

As Sharon straightened she saw Lita lean forward to Bud's prodigious cock. She fisted it in both hands and licked a blob of white drip from the split. Then her lips gaped and she pressed in, filling her mouth with the immense cockhead.

A moment ago Sharon's hand had failed to cover more than a small part of the flaring head.

Now, Lita was sucking the whole thing, her cheeks drawn in to its shape.

Quickly she lipped off it, saying, "Sharon, darling, it's your turn."

Sharon extended her hands to the monstrosity. It was like gasping a living fence post. And yet, as she licked and nibbled the split in the end, she found that she could stretch her lips aver the cockhead, mouth it and quite easily gulp the delicious morsel.

Bud grunted, "Now, that's what I call sucking cock! You should take lessons from Sharon, Lita. Honey, let's go in on the big bed so you can lap Sharon's cunt while she blows me... Okay?"

They moved. Sharon surrendered his prong and the three walked. Rather, she moved on clouds that seemed to have no bottom, which tanged her feet, tripping her. Someone supported her. They went through doorways.

She faced a giant bed, a playing field, a tennis-court-sized mattress.

Soon she was in the middle of it. She fisted Bud's cock. With her free hand she tried to gather up his immense balls.

She spread her legs wide to let Lita's soft mouth wash up and down her cunt.

She bent Bud's cock to her mouth, licking the fresh emission of white goo from the glans.

He said, "Honey, I never had a cock sucked so good. But let's see if you get the picture straight. I'm a rich man. I'll give you that little old white car. Hell, it won't cost me much. I own a piece of Harris Motors, so I can buy it wholesale. Then, you can have all the clothes you want from the Boutique. You can even live here with us. There's a little suite, a bedroom and sitting room with its own bath. You can have that. And, while I'm working at the motel, you and Lita can lick cunt all you want. Fact is, I want you to. It makes me feel good."

Sharon was trying to sucker onto his cockhead.

He pushed her back. "Wait, honey. You got to understand. You won't be allowed to even look at any other guy. Or girl. You have only one cock, mine. And one cunt, Lita's. Understand?"

"Yes. Can I suck it now?"

He grinned. "Why, that's the best idea I've heard in a month of Sundays!"

Sharon gobbled at the big knob. She yanked it to her, squirmed, impaling her mouth on it. The head lodged in her throat.

Lita was mouthing her cunt lips. The girl's tongue separated the hairy gates and washed her clit.

Sharon saw Bud twist about and grasp his wife's legs. Spreading them, he thrust his head between.

His thick tongue lashed out at her gash.

Sharon felt the whole triangle come alive, as though a current were circulating through them.

She was coming, hips jerking, thighs clamping on Lita's head. The orgasm peaked, burst, and another started before it had a chance to ebb away.

She sucked loudly, her head bobbing up and down. She expelled the head to study its enormous flare, to measure the size of her licking tongue in reference to it. She kissed down the blue vein at the side, raised his scrotum, and gently tucked a ball into her mouth.

She had forgiven Lita for drugging her. Why not? She had everything now, all the orgasms she could ever want. They were waiting in line, one after another, springing to life in her bowels.

She would have her car and a luxurious suite here in the Connoly home and the use of the pool for swimming naked with Lita.

In the back of her mind lurked the memory of Tom Thornton. She would have to give him up. Well, she wasn't his kind of girl. She was a whore. Exactly. A whore made to fit a triangle, a permanent husband-wife-whore arrangement.

Bud said, "Lita, your cunt never tasted so good. It's just like honey!"

"If you think it's good, you should try it."

"I will, honey. I'll do that. We have loads of time before Sharon goes to work at eight o'clock as the new night manager. But right now I'd like to fuck a little. You know how I like it best. Two asses side by side."

Sharon felt the chain break. They both moved from her. She lay panting. At last they lifted her. She found herself on her knees beside Lita. Bud was behind them.

He said, "I'll give you each three jabs, then shift."

His hands gripped Sharon's asscheeks and spread them. An enormous blunt object pressed at her snatch. She braced on her forearms and shoved back. The monstrous cock slid into her, skewering her to the very depths of her hole. She choked. It was too big, splitting her in half.

He drew out. The return was easier, noisy as her cunt sucked at it, sloshing and squirting on the overload of cock meat.

When he withdrew she shrieked. Her cunt gaped, pulsed. She thrust backward to fill her slit. The rampant cock plunged in and she came explosively, wrenching about, thrashing her ass and butting it against him.

It was gone again.

She looked frantically back over her shoulder. She saw Bud move from her and wedge the huge cock into his wife's cunt.

Lita seized Sharon's arm, then bit her neck, moaning with passion as Bud rammed it in.

Lita cried, "Bud, you're making me come so hard, darling! Oh, please fuck me more than just three strokes. Please?"

"Honey, it's Sharon's turn now."

Again Sharon was filled by the massive club. She threw her arms about Lita and clung to her, sucking the back of her neck.

Then Lita collapsed. She slid down under Sharon and suckered her mouth onto a hanging breast, trying to swallow the nipple.

Bud chuckled, "Well, all right, honey. I'll fuck Sharon's cunt for a while. My, you're pretty excited today, aren't you?"

Lita tongued Sharon's breast out of her mouth long enough to say, "Bud, I love you so! Why don't you shove a finger into my cunt while you fuck Sharon?"

Then she gulped in a mouthful of tit.

Sharon was peaking again, crying out, "Ahhh! It's so good, Bud, drive it into my cunt!"

"I was thinking of trying out your other hole, honey," he said.

"Anything!" she cried.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Nightmare was not the word for it. Fantastic, yes. An unbelievable journey through a sea of boiling flesh.

Sharon even got an orgasm from being buggered. By then she had noticed the mirrors on the walls. She saw Bud spread her white buttocks and force his dripping cock into her asshole. It hurt as the giant head stretched her ass, but when it was inside she started coming again.

Lita's head was between her legs. Sharon lowered to let the girl lap her cunt while her husband reamed her asshole.

The next she remembered was somewhat later, she and Lita doing a sixty-nine, lapping cunt while Bud, resting, sat in a chair sipping a drink and smiling broadly as he watched them.

Later Sharon sucked his balls while he fucked his wife.

At seven in the evening Sharon awakened from a deep sleep.

She first became aware of the smell of cunt. She was covered with it.

Then Lita plopped her into a bathtub full of warm water. She fell asleep again in the tub.

They rode to the motel in Bud's car, Sharon sandwiched between the couple. Bud's hand was between her legs, caressing her pussy. Lita was toying with her titties.

She was exhausted and felt sore all over. But the effects of the drug had dissipated. She now saw the world in sharp perspective.

"We'll all go in," Bud said, "and introduce Nancy and Harve to their new boss. Sharon, if you want me to, I'll get your little old white sports car tonight and park it in front of the motel. Now, I don't have to mention again that you aren't going to fuck around with any other boys or girls. Well, I've said it. All right?"

Sharon was too dazed to answer.

Bud parked at the lobby entrance and they got out.

Sharon entered first. She saw Nancy and Harve behind the counter, standing quite close together.

Nancy said sharply, "You're late for work, Sharon. I'll have to report this to Bud."

Then Bud and Lita appeared.

The five of them gathered at the desk.

Bud said, "Nancy, I'm making some personnel changes in the night shift."

Sharon saw their frowns. There was an expectant silence after he spoke, a dead quiet punctuated by the thumping beats of her heart.

The afternoon's drugged sexual workout had emptied her of volition. She sagged against the counter. She felt powerless to either accept or refuse the goodies Bud had heaped upon her. She felt like a statue being draped with ropes of pearls, hung with diamond arid emerald necklaces. She was simply there, a structure being adorned.

He said, "Nancy, you've worked hard here and you gave me no cause for complaint, but I'm going to change things."

The girl spoke up. "That's all right with me, Bud. I've decided that Harve could do a better job as manager than I can. I mean, it's better for a man to be in charge. People expect it."

Hearing this, Sharon understood the looks that had passed between Nancy and Harve this morning. Clearly, they had gotten together. Buddy? Apparently he had awakened Nancy's cunt to the existence of other males. But their intrigues were pointless. Only the whims of Bud Connoly mattered.

Bud said, "Sharon will be the new night manager."

Did they realize that she had succeeded as a whore?

Their startled gazes focused on her.

She heard the phone ring. Nancy and Harve seemed oblivious to it. The ring persisted. Responding automatically, Sharon rounded the counter and took the call.

She heard Tom Thornton's voice.

"I've got troubles, Sharon. I don't know what the hell is up, but I've been fired."

Sharon recalled their picnic at the fishing shack, their dreams of a plane and a sleeping bag.

She cradled the phone in her bosom. They were all staring at her -- Nancy, Harve, Lita, Bud.

"Tom!" she cried, raising the phone again. "I don't understand."

"I don't either. But I wish you'd come over to my place and comfort me. I'm just around the corner. Twelve Liberty Street. My apartment is on the second floor."

"But, Tom, you're supposed to be Harris' best salesman! They can't fire you."

"It looks like they have. Well, there goes our airplane. And our sleeping bag."

"But why?"

"This afternoon an order came from one of the senior partners to get rid of me. Mr. Harris didn't want to, but he had no choice."

She understood now. The phone fell from her hands as she turned to Bud Connoly.

She said, "You told me you are a partner at Harris Motors."

He nodded. "I always invest my motel profits locally. I own parts of other businesses too."

"Did you tell them to fire Tom Thornton?"

"Sure I did. I told you, baby, I don't share with anybody. There isn't room in this town for both me and that young prick Thornton. See, I knew about you and him. I'm just making sure."

At last Sharon realized the meaning of whoring. It was selling out. It was being owned. It was being powerless.

Bud said, "Well, let's get to work. Nancy, how many quickies tonight?"

Sharon thought, If I can move one foot, take one single step, then I can walk around the counter.

Her legs responded sluggishly. She staggered, teetered, swayed, lunged. But she moved. She rounded the counter.

Bud asked, "Baby, where are you going?" If she could speak, emit one sound of her own free will, then she owned her tongue. She opened her mouth. She heard herself say, "Out."

She walked swiftly. The swinging front door seemed a baffler but, in falling against it, thrusting with all her strength, she opened it.

She stumbled out the drive to the boulevard. She let her feet find their way to Liberty Street. At Number Twelve she saw an outside stairway leading to the upstairs apartment. She climbed it and knocked on the door and Tom opened it.

She said, "I've been fired too."

She stood there in the doorway, hands fisted, nails cutting her palms. She could go back. The white car would be delivered tonight. In the morning she would deck herself out in new sports clothes from the Beachwear Boutique. All her dreams.

Tom said, "Maybe you can explain all this, Sharon."

Could anyone explain a nightmare?

She was eyeing the couch across the room. She kicked off her sandals and curled an arm behind her back to her dress zipper.

She walked slowly toward the couch.

She asked, "Which would you rather have, Tom? Me, or your job at Harris?"

"I can't have both?"

"The big money guy who runs this town says no."

She zipped her dress open, unhooked her bra, wrestled both off and dropped them on the floor. She skinned out of her panties and flung down on the couch.

She said, "Get naked, Tom, and hug me."

"Will you please explain, Sharon?"

"You explain something. First, tell me if you have a car."

He nodded. "An old station wagon. Mostly I've been driving Harris' demonstrators."

"Then explain how a sleeping bag in the back of a station wagon would feel different from one in an airplane."

He grimed. "You mean, we just take off? Start driving?"

"We'll see the world from a sleeping bag." She raised her arms toward him.

Tom tore off his clothes.

Lying on her back, she spread her legs. Tom climbed onto the couch between her thighs. She jacked up her legs as she had at the cabin, opening her hairy crotch to show him her gaping, defenseless pink slit.

He lowered his body, pressing his stiff cock into the portals of her twat. He eased in.

When the hot length was buried in her cunt, she sighed with contentment and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She crossed her legs on his back.

She whispered, "I want you to fuck me very slowly, Tom. Take all night at it if you wish."

"I wish."

"Tom, where will we go? To Montana or Michigan? Minnesota, Mississippi..."

"To all of them. We'll stop the car every ten miles and fuck."

"That lovely word. Do it, will you?"

Gently he jogged in her juicing cunt. She thought of Buddy. Poor kid. Well, it was time she quit running his life.

She tightened her grip on the man in her arms and clung as, pumping his cock slowly in her drooling hole, he began their voyage into the future.

THE END

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