His cock slipped between her lean thighs and, when she released it from her hand, surged upwards, bumping into her perineum. Her legs closed caressingly around the fat wand, so that she was poised on the horizontal bar rather as if it had been a very narrow bicycle seat. She fondled him with her inner thighs as his dick tried valiantly to rise up to the natural angle, striving to lift her weight as it elevated. With both hands on his shoulders now, she rose to the highest possible point, on tiptoes, while he lowered himself another inch or so. His organ was correctly placed now, like a rocket on the launching pad, quivering as the liquid rocket fuel of his spermaries began to smoulder and ignite. Above the nose cone of this exploratory spaceship, the dark heavens of her loins sparkled with the nova stars of passion, the constellations of carnal need.
AT his ear, she whispered, "Fuck me now, James," almost matter-of-factly; then, her voice rasping, she said, "Oh God, yes! Fuck me hard!"
Blackburn launched his rocket.
His thighs knotted and he lunged upwards, sending the long space cruiser soaring into her inner universe. Her cunt rippled as he penetrated to the depths of her belly sucked on his. He went down and surged up again, using a slow tempo and long stroking the length of her chasm. Whimpering, she rose and fell in counterpoint to his strokes, sinking down upon his rod as he roared up and rising onto her toes as he descended, so that they were fucking in perfect unison. Her thighs rippled and her belly heaved, he was grunting and sweating. Her lips were at his ear and she was saying. "Fuckfuckfuck," the one word repeated over and over as the only word which had any meaning or connotation or, for that matter, denotation, at the moment. She was chanting the word, almost singing it, her voice melodic with a leitmotif of lust as a chorus. Pleased to obey, he fucked. He fed the long dong to her mightily and his hands clamped beneath her trim ass, helping her to rise and fall in rhythm. Soft, moist sounds came from her crotch as her pussy clutched and sucked on his sliding rod. Those sounds joined with her reiterating voice to form the music of the spheres as he jetted into the internal universe of her body. In the uncharted depths, his spaceship sought new stars and hew solar systems. The rubbery nose cone sped through the ether, probing for planets suitable for habitation and colonization, and he knew, captain of his vessel, that soon he must discharge the seminal passengers and the spermatic crew, standing them as space voyagers upon those swampy, steaming worlds beyond his galaxy.
Marla, rapidly reaching the peak of sensation as he stuffed her mightily, began to lose control of her body. As if she were some alien creature from those internal planets, she dissolved. Her face was contorted by emotion, her flesh melted damply, her legs faltered. Seeking support, she threw both arms around his shoulders and, as he lunged up, left the floor completely, suspended on his spiked loins. Her legs arced up and over, wrapping firmly around his flanks, heels locking behind his knees.
Blackburn staggered under the increased burden.
Her clinging weight pulled his torso forward and he had to take a quick double step to keep from falling. Then he threw his shoulders back, using his upper body to act as a cantilever against her weight, still stroking into her. He began walking unsteadily about the room, Marla riding his belly, his hands cupped beneath her tight ass so that he could haul her up and down, nailing her onto his cock. Her crotch was sodden and bubbling over. Nacreous drops of cunt juice splattered on the carpet beneath them.
They reached the wall, her ass bumping. Blackburn braced her against the wall, giving his tiring back and thighs a moment's rest, then he started moving ever faster, fucking her right up the wall. Marla was jolted higher and higher. She clawed at his back and bit into his shoulder. A sticky trail of pussy cream smeared up the wallpaper.
Blackburn plummeted upwards, his bloated scrotum swinging like the bag of a raging moose, balls banging against the wall. The instant of electrifying climax came and he was suspended on the heights of the thrill. He cried out hoarsely and his hot wad fairly leaped from his smoking cock head, hosing her steaming gash with a heavy flow. He held her, crucified, to the wall and hammered his lust out inside her, while her simultaneous orgasm turned her snatch into a steaming swamp and then to a smouldering volcano and, finally, at the utmost incandescence, to a blazing nova star.
His rocket, venturing too close to that celestial inferno, melted to a shriveled ash; the control computer broke down and the fuel tanks emptied, collapsed. He sank very slowly to his knees, rather like Al Jolson singing Mammie, and Marla slipped down the wall and sat against the baseboard, legs spread wide, knees raised, a bemused but satisfied expression on her face.
"You should have dirty pictures taken more often," Blackburn croaked.
Marla smiled dreamily.
He'd meant it as a joke.
But: "Yes," she said, and she sounded serious.
Dressed once more, he said that he'd better be off to talk to Bill Gibbs. Marla nodded agreement. But then she said, "I don't want to stay here alone."
"Oh?"
"Suppose the blackmailers show up here? I'd be terrified. They might rape me or something. I mean, I just adore sex, but rape is a different matter, especially if it was that big ginger haired man with the utterly depraved face. I'd simply hate it."
"Ummm. It's possible, I suppose. They might want to use the photos as, you know, a carrot before a donkey. Force you to submit under the threat of showing them to Geoffrey. It might be better if they can't contact you, at least until I've had a word with Gibbs and try to get to the bottom of it."
"I could go to a hotel. Or... could I perhaps stay at your place?"
"Of course," he said, thinking it an admirable idea. He gave her his keys. "I'll be home in an hour or so. Make yourself at home."
"Oh, I will."
Blackburn left. It wasn't until he'd hailed a taxi and was en route to Earl's Court that he remembered Susan Smith was already in his bed. His eyebrows went up at the remembrance. Then he shrugged. It was too late to worry about it now, he knew, but he hoped the two women would get along all right together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Bill Gibbs in?" he asked the man on the desk, whose name was Ted. Ted nodded.
"Yeah. He had a gal up there awhile ago, but she left. Couple of his friends showed up, I guess they must have caught him on the job. Too bad. Smashing piece she was, a real dolly bird." Ted's eyes gleamed with vicarious lust.
"Friends? Who?"
"Oh, that photographer bloke, what's his name? Smith, that's it. Trevor Smith."
"Well, I'll be damned," Blackburn said, marveling at the workings of circumstance; the aleatory contingencies of fate. He said, "Do I know him?"
"Might. Works in Earl's Court, drinks in the pub sometimes. Scrawny guy with a big cock."
"Yeah, that's him, all right."
"And Big Red, you know him."
"Yeah, I think so. Big, brawny chap, broken nose, sort of what you'd call a depraved face?"
"Spot on."
"They still here?"
"Naw. They only stayed a minute. What I reckon is that they barged in and caught Gibbs on the job, so they left right away, but he gal was so annoyed at being caught that she left, too."
"Thanks Ted."
Blackburn walked up the stairs. He knew where Gibbs' room was and knocked on the door. Gibbs called out, "door's open," immediately, and Blackburn went in. Gibbs was sitting up in bed, naked, with a bottle of whisky.
"Evening, James," he said. "Sit down and have a drink. What brings you around?"
Blackburn sat on the foot of the bed. Gibbs passed him the bottle, from which, there being no glass handy, he took a swig.
"I hear you had Marla Collins up here, Bill." Bill's bushy brows rose.
"Well, yeah. Why? She isn't your girl, is she? I didn't mean to pull nobody' else's girl, not being that sort of bloke, although she was married but that's a different thing. Husbands are fair game, I reckon, which is the way I see it, because a husband has to keep an eye on his wife and if he don't, well, it's his fa
ult as much as hers. Wives are like that, you know. All wives. They'll fuck behind a husband's back any chance they get."
"She's a friend, that's all."
Gibbs reached for the bottle.
"But what the hell is this business with the camera and all? She's a good gal, Bill."
"Oh, that. I don't rightly know."
"Didn't you know that Big Red and Smith were going to take the pictures?"
"Oh, sure. Don't know why, though."
"Why don't you explain?"
"Sure. I met Big Red down the pub this morning. He said he had a job for me, had this gal what wanted to be adulterized. He couldn't do it himself, see, on account he is so ugly and has what you'd call a depraved face. But me being handsome and all, he figured I was just the man for the job. He gave me a tenner for my efforts, too. Well, I figured, what the hell, no harm in trying. So we followed her and I picked her up in a hotel down the West End. Wasn't hard, neither."
"And you've no idea why they wanted those pictures?"
"Naw. Didn't ask. You know Big Red, real tight mouthed and always duckin' and divin' what with one scheme and another. Probably working for her husband or something."
Blackburn, taking a drink, believed him.
He looked at his wristwatch. It was too late to go looking for Red or Smith, he decided, not knowing where wither of them lived. But he could find that out easily enough, what with Susan being at his place. If Susan was still at his place, that was, now that Marla, too, had arrived. He decided to go home.
But he had a few more slugs from the bottle, first, figuring there was no hurry and that it might be better to give the two women a chance to get to know one another and to pass the initial stage of jealousy which, his vanity told him, was likely.
And, as it turned out, the two girls were getting along very well, indeed...
Marla went to Blackburn's in a taxi and, using his key, let herself in quietly. She had a drink in the living room, standing by the corner of the bar, but didn't really feel much like drinking. She'd brought her toothbrush along, which was perfectly natural when one plans to be out overnight, but she didn't really feel like masturbating with that marvelous little device, either. It was fun and a great novelty and all, but she'd had rather enough of it for the time being, having steadily brushed her clitoris for a long time while waiting until Blackburn was at home.
She decided to go to bed.
She had been there before before she was married and knew where the bedroom was. Going there, she found the room in darkness. There seemed little point in turning on the lights, so she undressed in the dark and, naked, slipped into the big bed.
That was the first inkling she had of not being alone.
Warmth radiated from the other side of the bed and, frowning, she slid a tentative hand along the sheets. Her fingers encountered naked flesh. Bemused, she ran her fingertips slowly up, recognizing a slender, warm flank, a soft belly, finally a plump little tit. Her hand passed over the nipple and that little bud began to jut out.
Marla, embarrassed, drew her hand away.
Susan, slowly arousing from slumber, felt the touch.
"Oh, you're back," she whispered.
Susan rolled over and threw her arms around Marla. She kissed her. Marla was too surprised to resist, and the kiss lasted for several moments before Susan realized that this was not a hard, male body. Susan, every bit as surprised as Marla had been, felt around tentatively and, in turn, encountered a fine, firm tit.
"Oh," she said.
Marla's nipple stiffened, in turn.
Both girls drew apart and a long moment of mutual embarrassment kept them silent, holding their breath and both wondering who the other was.
Finally, Marla said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was here in bed."
"Gee, so am I. I didn't mean to grab your tit, honest. I thought you were James."
"I'm not."
"I know. I could tell that by your tit."
Then both girls started giggling, as the absurdity of the situation struck them.
"Anyone saw us like this, they'd think we were kinky," Susan said. "They'd think we were dyky."
"Isn't it ridiculous."
"It certainly is."
"It's all just a mistake. I guess that James forgot you were here."
"Yeah. That bastard. He's as bad as my husband, bringing other girls here while I'm already waiting; being unfaithful to both of us."
"Men are like that, I guess."
"Of course, maybe he plans to come back and make love to both of us," Susan considered. "Men are like that too, you know. Animals, they are, unfaithful, horny beasts. It's enough to make a girl turn celibate. Except I always get so damn randy when I try that. It's harder on me than it is on my husband, I guess, cutting him off to get even with him. That's why I'm here. I'm getting revenge on my husband. It's lots more fun getting revenge by fucking someone else than it is by cutting him off from sex, that's for sure."
"He's rather splendid, isn't he? James, I mean."
"Yeah. Except he doesn't have much stamina."
"Oh? That surprises me. He's always had plenty of staying power, with me."
"Well, maybe I expect too much. He did fuck me and then I gave him a blow job, so that wasn't too bad, but I could have used another go."
"What? Tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I should think that says a great deal for his stamina, because he fucked me, too, just about half an hour ago."
"Ooooh. That makes me hot all over again."
They didn't speak for awhile. Warmth radiated between them as they lay side by side, both facing the ceiling; both thinking impure thoughts.
"Was it you who telephoned?" Susan asked, at length.
"That's right."
Susan giggled.
"Shall I tell you something? Something naughty?"
"Why not?"
"I was sucking James' dick while he talked to you on the telephone."
"Oh, wow! Now I'm getting hot."
"It wouldn't get hard, though. I guess he must have recovered on the way to see you."
"He sure did. He gave me a dynamic fuck. We did it standing up."
Another short, thoughtful silence ensued.
"I'll tell you something naughty, too, Marla said. "While I was talking to James on the phone, which is also to say while you were sucking his dick, I was rubbing myself off with an electric toothbrush."
"Really?" Gee, what a clever idea. I never thought of doing that. Of course, my husband being cheap, I don't even have an electric toothbrush..."
Marla took a deep breath.
"You could borrow mine," she said, softly. "Really? Wouldn't you mind, having your toothbrush used on another girl's cunt?"
"I don't think so. Anyway, it's my husband's, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Probably just make him hot, if he did know, anyway."
"Gee. We really are wicked, aren't we?"
"Variety is the spice of a sex life," Marla said. Marla was remembering her previous fantasies about making it with another woman, and she discovered that the thought was still rather stimulating. Her view was healthy enough. She had enough liberalism and self confidence not to worry about being a lesbian and considered the inversion as one of those varieties she'd mentioned. But she was a bit shy, too, and couldn't imagine how to put the proposition to this girl.
"I suppose we ought to introduce ourselves," Susan said. "I'm Susan Smith."
"Marla Collins."
"Have you known James long?"
"Oh, years. I used to screw him before I was married."
"Oh, you're married, huh? Are you getting revenge on your husband, too?"
"Not exactly." Marla thought. She said, "It's a good thing we are both married, being in bed together. Because being married proves we aren't lesbians, right?"
"Oh, sure. We definitely aren't lesbians."
"Of course..." Marla hesitate. "Of course, lots of girls make love together without being lesbians."<
br />
"Really? I never knew that."
"Sure. I never have, myself, but I've heard that it's a common occurrence. Like, say, if two girls are waiting for a guy to come fuck them and they get sort of worked up and impatient, well, sometimes they like to be nice to each other, if you see what I mean..."
A Taste Of It Page 7