Kitty Spencer

Three-way weekend

CHAPTER ONE

The two young men strolling along Sutter Street might have been brothers. Each was tall, each had the same lightly tanned, dark-haired good looks, and the same Italian ancestry showed in the boned modeling of both faces. But Nino and Carlo were unrelated by direct blood ties. They considered themselves to be business partners.

They walked with easy strides toward the rows of cafe tables that lined the garden court restaurant, ignoring the San Franciscians and tourists who strolled past them. Typically, Carlo was half pace in the lead.

"Let's sit here," he suggested, reaching for a chair at a back row table. They sat down and lit cigarettes, each taking from his own pack.

Nino produced a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and put them on. It was April; the sunshine was already bright.

Carlo clicked his fingers in the direction of a white jacketed waiter who immediately gave a nod of recognition.

"How goes it, George?" Carlo greeted the waiter as the man hurried to the table.

"I survive," George grinned. "What'll it be, gentlemen."

"Coffee, amico." Nino ordered the same.

The two young men leaned back in their chairs, each taking in the scene around him with a practiced gaze. Only a third of the outdoor tables were occupied, for the tourist season had hardly begun. There were still more pigeons than people in the court. Simultaneously they caught sight of the girl walking across the patio.

She was not beautiful, exactly, but she was attractive in a strangely exciting way. Shining in the sunlight, her straight blonde hair hung almost to her shoulders. She walked with a languid, long-legged gait, unhurried and graceful. And her figure superb.

Twenty or twenty-one, Carlo estimated. More importantly, he could tell at a glance that although she was casually dressed, her clothes were undoubtedly expensive. And she possessed that air of impeccable carelessness that belongs only to rich men's daughters!

"Nino, my friend," Carlo murmured, leaning across the table, "Nino – you'd better get to work. Business is already beginning to look good this year…"

"Did you fix up about the apartment?" Nino asked. The sun blazed momentarily from Nino's dark glasses as the boy turned toward his companion.

Carlo nodded.

"It's all arranged. I checked everything with the landlord. Including the rent. It's ours for the season."

"How'd you get the place so cheap?" Nino's lower lip formed a suspicious pout.

"The landlord is a friend of mine…" Shrugging, Carlo let his voice trail off.

Nino's petulant expression changed into a satisfied smile. Carlo had more "friends" in San Francisco than anyone else Nino knew. Of course, in Carlo's line of business, one either had friends – or one starved. There was no middle course.

For the official record, Carlo was a tourist guide. In reality, he was a highly versatile procurer.

Their coffee arrived, and Carlo and Nino began discussing the tourist season as they drank it.

"Christ – but I hope it's better than last year," Nino muttered as he glanced toward the table where the blonde-haired girl sat. "I nearly broke my back on those women, and not one of them turned out to be worth more than a week's keep."

"When one aims high," remarked Carlo, "one must be patient. This year, maybe you'll find your dream girl. The dream girl who'll be young, beautiful, rich – and very, very stupid."

Carlo grinned maliciously to himself. Nino glanced at him, annoyed, his mouth setting in a pouting sulk. Even with his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, his features were expressive. Nino had long been aware that women found his mobile features distractingly charming.

"Is Benito going to share the apartment with us?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Probably. He's supposed to meet us here to let us know definitely."

"I wouldn't have thought he needed an apartment. Those rich old gals he gets always have luxury suites in the best hotels. Or else they rent a plush apartment."

Nino's voice betrayed jealousy. He sometimes wished he were less fastidious but, much as he worshipped money, he couldn't bring himself to court and sleep with older women. "It offends my sense of the aesthetic," he had tried to explain to Carlo on more than one occasion. "It's almost like a perversion, but in reverse. If they're older than thirty, I can't screw them no matter how beautiful. It won't come up properly." Carlo's response had always been both lewd and unsympathetic.

"Maybe Benito just wants some place to relax," Carlo suggested, his tone, as it frequently was, bored and noncommittal. "His mother's an overpowering woman. He needs some freedom."

Two o'clock was chiming from the nearby clock tower when they saw Benito hurrying across the patio toward them. His short, stocky figure moved along briskly with quick, neat movements, his light brown hair ruffled slightly in the faint breeze. He gave the impression of an overfed bird.

"Ciao," he greeted as he dropped into a chair between Carlo and Nino. Then, in the next breath: "Can't stop long. I've got an important appointment."

"Already?" Carlo raised an approving eyebrow.

Benito nodded. "The first of many, I hope," he smirked. "At the Fairmont. Not bad – only a small suite, but her luggage looks promising."

"Are you planning to include the luggage in your sex games?" Carlo asked. The thought intrigued him momentarily; within the limited scope of Carlo's interests, bizarre sexuality ranked high. Benito grimaced and helped himself to a cigarette from Carlo's pack.

"About the apartment…" he began, as if Carlo had not spoken. Immediately, the atmosphere changed. This was business. Carlo sat forward in his chair.

"Yes. Here's the deal…"

After his short explanatory statement, the three men discussed the project community rental. At first, Benito balked at the price, then reconsidered and finally agreed to join in, signaling his agreement with a jabbing nod of the head.

"Done," he said. He held out his hand. Carlo clasped it briefly; so did Nino. Benito stood up. In the next moment, with a hurried "Ciao" tossed over his shoulder, Benito was away and halfway across the court. The other two men gazed speculatively at his rapidly disappearing figure.

"I wonder if Benito cums as fast as he does everything else," mused Carlo. "I should think those older women of his would hardly have time to spread their legs before Benito's all through."

Nino gave a short laugh, but his attention was centered elsewhere. A group of four girls was being seated at a table only a few yards away. There was much breathless giggling and whispering as they settled down. Without being obvious about it, Nino appraised them with expert speed: they were all in their late teens. He shrugged. They weren't worth bothering about.

Still, a practice run always smoothed his vanity. Nino laughed again, this time throwing his head back and displaying his perfect set of white, even teeth. The girls looked toward him.

"When can we start using the apartment?" he asked Carlo, still playing his side-line game. He leaned back and made much of lighting another cigarette, spinning the spent match toward a bunch of pigeons. The birds fluttered off, regrouping a few yards away.

"Next week. D'you think you'll be using the place much?"

"Who knows?" Nino shrugged elaborately. "Every night, God willing…"

"For me, it will be useful mainly as an office," Carlo remarked. "Of course, there may be an occasion when I need the place for a night. But I will usually make other arrangements. Otherwise, you and Benito can work it out between the two of you."

"Do we use the same arrangement as last year? To let the other know when the apartment's being used, I mean."

"Whoever wants the place calls the other two, to make sure we don't clash. If our… uh, schedules clash, whoever had the apartment last has to miss a turn."

Carlo paused slightly before adding: "And, to make sure there are no accidents, as you go through the downstairs lobby, leave the mailbox door flapping open. In the first place, it's a signal to the other two that you're in residence. Secondly, checking the mailbox makes it seem right to the woman with you, as if you really lived there."

"Bene." Nino's gaze drifted, as if by chance, to the table occupied by the four young girls. "The one in red is pretty," he commented, "but they look as though they've come off some cheap tour. They're probably counting every dollar they have."

"They'll get a shock when they see their bill," smiled Carlo. "Unless, of course, they find someone foolish enough to pay for it."

"Not enough tourists around. Only another tourist would bother with them."

"There'll be plenty soon. The season's beginning to warm up." Carlo drank the last of his coffee. "I've a couple of tours lined up already for this week. And next week… it sounds promising. I have a batch of teenagers on my hands for three whole days. One of those educational trips."

"The Count will be delighted to hear the news."

"Yeah. They're just his type. Fifteen and sixteen. Although I heard he's been diddling a kid of thirteen – the daughter of his housekeeper, or so the rumor goes."

"So young?"

"He needs them younger every year. The Count's reaching the point where, as soon as they grow hair between their thighs, he loses interest."

Supplying the Count with suitable bed material was indeed becoming a problem, thought Carlo, pouring himself a glass of water from the carafe on the table. He drained the glass in a single swallow.

As he was setting the empty glass back on the table, he caught sight of the blonde-haired girl again. "Nino, my friend," he said, rising, "I think I'll leave you to your work."

Nino's brow knitted. Then following Carlo's gaze, he smiled. "Ciao, my friend…"

CHAPTER TWO

After leaving Carlo and Nino, Benito headed for the Fairmont. He did not stop to wait for a cable car. With his trotting walk, he could get there faster on foot. To avoid the solid mass of tourists blocking the street which led from the cafe to the hotel, Benito ducked through a series of alleyways so narrow that they remained in almost permanent semi-darkness. They smelled of cafe kitchens and cats.

Christ! Benito thought, glancing at the gold watch he had recently acquired. Nearly two-thirty, and he'd promised to be at the hotel by two. Hannah would be angry with him. He couldn't help admiring the way the watch looked on his wrist. The solid gold bracelet band showed up well just beneath his shirt cuff. As he almost ran through the narrow alleys, Benito held out his left arm momentarily to admire the effect again. It occurred to him that he could do with a gold signet ring. Carlo had a beauty that looked very impressive. A businessman needed a signet ring, really. He'd have to explain about it to Hannah.

Benito did not check with the desk clerk at the hotel. The hotel staff all knew him by now. The first couple of times he had come in he had asked for his women clients by name, but he no longer bothered. As he ran toward the elevator, Benito saw out of the corner of his eye that the desk clerk had lifted the house phone. He would be telling Hannah that Benito was on his way up.

"Honey, whatever took you so long?" Hannah Stanford's voice did not quite succeed in concealing her irritation.

"My landlady asked me to help her. She wanted furniture moved," Benito lied quickly. He always told his women friends that he had a landlady. He never told them about his mother; it would not have seemed decent.

"You silly boy! You let people take advantage of you – you really do!" The older woman sounded happier already. "Now then, be an angel and get your poor Hannah a nice, long drink. I'm nearly dying of thirst. The gin's over there. And go easy on the ice cubes."

Benito handed the drink to her and noticed for the first time that she was dressed only in a lace negligee, her voluptuously preserved curves almost completely visible beneath it.

Oh God! thought Benito, she wants it now, and, man, am I tired!

"Come and sit beside me like a good, sweet lover-boy," Hannah said, patting the sofa.

Obediently, the chubby youth perched beside her. Although the shades were half-drawn over the window, enough sunlight filtered into the room for him to see that Hannah wore nothing underneath the flimsy garment; one of the woman's pink nipples was plainly visible pushing up through the expensive lace.

Suddenly he stood up and walked over to the window. From there, he said, "We shall be late. I wanted to take you to lunch in Tiburon today."

"Lunch, smunch! Who cares about food?" She waved her arm in the air and some of the gin slopped over onto the sofa. "Stop pacing about all the time, lover! You make me dizzy. For God's sake, come and sit down." Her voice took on its familiar whine. "Come and give poor Hannah a kiss."

With a quick, bird-like step, Benito was across the room and bending over to kiss the woman on the cheek. She clutched at his shoulders as he leaned over and forced his head around so that his lips were pressed against her mouth.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" she said in a satisfied tone, and then put a ring-burdened hand on Benito's leg. An upward movement, and then her hand began rubbing his thigh. For a moment, Benito disinterestedly watched her fingers massaging his flesh, and then the sparkle of the diamond rings reminded him. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.

"You have beautiful hands," he said smoothly.

"Yeah, Art used to tell me that, too."

Benito had been told all about Art. He had been Hannah's husband for what she referred to, from the smugness of widowhood, as "twenty-five truly felicitous years." Mention of her husband's name made the youth nervous because it invariably started Hannah thinking about bed. Art, according to Hannah, had been able "to give it to me as often as I wanted it, and I always wanted it plenty!" And poor Art had died at forty-six, Benito reflected gloomily…

"I would like a signet ring, I think," he said bluntly. With the older woman in such a mood, he knew he was wasting his time being circumspect. "It would suit me, no?"

"You may be right. Show me your hand."

Benito held his hand out for her inspection. She stared at it for a moment.

"You could be right," she repeated. Then, without warning, she seized his hand and pressed it down hard between her thighs. With her other arm, she pulled the boy down hard on top of her.

"Take me, take me," she moaned into Benito's ear. "Like this, now! Quickly!"

Pulling himself away, he asked, "Don't you want to go into the bedroom?"

In answer, Hannah moaned even more demandingly, and her voluptuously mature body started to writhe beneath him. One of her hands groped at his fly.

"We can go into the bedroom later," she gasped, her face flushed and perspiring slightly as her fingers fumbled with Benito's clothes. "I can't wait for that now! Give it to me, baby, give it to me!"

Moments later, he was free of his clothing and she eagerly pulled him to the sofa. Her body was lost in the fire of the moment and every muscle was tensed as she strained her loins upward in an effort to capture the virile long shaft of flesh that pressed so tightly against the soft skin of her thighs. The nakedly chubby youth levered her legs up onto the cushions so that she lay full-length on the couch, then pried her thighs far apart and climbed up between them positioning his body over her eagerly writhing form.

Hannah could see the boy hovering over her through her lust-glazed eyes and she felt the hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying against the full length of her impatiently quivering vaginal slit. The lurching head of his stone-hard cock was hot between her wide-spread buttocks, and was insinuating itself up and down the desire-moistened crevice in a lewd, teasing little motion that sent her hips twisting upwards in a desperate attempt to capture the hard, lust-engorged top that would fill her aching need. Her belly was screaming to be filled – she had to have it in her!

At last, in a panic of frustration, she reached her hands down between their bodies and grasped the full length of the rampantly searching prick. Her tightly-closed fist stroked up and down the thick hard shaft for a moment, feeling its heaving pulse against her soft palms and the warm sticky fluid that seeped in tiny white driblets from the blood-inflated head. Then, she guided it into her cuntal crevice, carefully positioning it between the moisture covered lips of her vagina. She steadied it there with one hand and placed the other on the youth's buttocks, drawing with all her strength to pull it into her and let it drown the gnawing hot heat that burned out of control in her belly. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as she felt its first soft electrical contact against the sensitive ragged edges of her moistly hungering pussy, then she held her breath for what seemed like an eternity as she lay in utter wantonness beneath the youth, waiting for him to impale her on his massive rod of rigid, pulsating flesh.

"Oh God, hurry, baby! Hurry!" she pleaded, splaying her legs even wider to give him greater access to her open cunt.

In answer, Hannah felt her soft pubic hair and the lips around her throbbing vagina being pressured open by the thick head, and she moaned softly at the contact against the tight elastic opening of her cock-hungry pussy.

"Aaaaaaagh," she gasped as the huge tip slipped through the tight opening, stretching the vertical little mouth until she was certain that her thighs must be splitting apart from the relentless outward pressure.

"Ooooooooooah, oooooooooh!" she cried out. "It's too much. Noooooooooo!" Her eyes jerked open in fear and she saw his lust-contorted face. The Italian youth was lost in the rapture of her body and did not realize how much he was hurting her as he ceaselessly pressed his long hard penis into the warm softness of her painfully stretching vagina.

Suddenly, his no longer innocent-looking face twisted into an evil leer as he looked down and saw the older woman helplessly spread-eagled beneath him with the pulsating head of his cock disappearing into the soft curling hair of her pussy. He fell forward, his weight smashing her full rounded breasts tightly back against her chest. He rammed his hips forward at the same time with all the strength in his thighs and buttocks, and his long thick cock slid into her cunt like a driving piston, pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in tiny rippling waves before it. There was no stopping it until with a loud slap his balls slammed heavily down on the cheeks of her tightly-clenched ass. Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his young muscular body, splaying out over the side of the couch and kicking futilely into the air as her deeply split buttocks screwed themselves deep into the cushions in a frantic attempt to escape the sudden impalement.

"Oooooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!" she wailed beneath him. She had never felt so completely filled in her life and his heavy, rock-hard cock felt as though it had torn her vagina into a million tiny shreds as he had speared into her narrow passage. The fiery plunging rod felt as though it was coming up out of her throat as the lustfully inflated, mushroom-shaped head pressed hard back up against her cervix, the thick lengthy shaft filling her belly to the bursting point. There was not a single tiny ridge of flesh on the rock-hard, heavily-veined cock that she could not feel as the walls of her cunt clasped around the shaft as tightly as a hot moist glove. She lay trembling for a moment beneath him, trying to adjust to the presence of the monstrous intruding cudgel in her belly.

Then the young boy suddenly began a slow rocking motion between her wide-held thighs. As Hannah groaned helplessly beneath him, Benito could feel the narrow stretched pussy channel widening slightly with each short smooth stroke. He looked down and could see his curly pubic hair tangling tightly with hers each time the length of his thick fleshy rod burrowed deep into the pinkly throbbing furrow up between her legs. He could see the tight little lips of her cunt stretched almost to the bursting point, the rubbery outer pink rim clasping tightly around his wetly glistening shaft as it slowly plunged in and out of her.

Hannah twitched beneath him as her body rapidly became accustomed to the huge skewering prick and began to react to the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his cock pistoning into the sensitive opening of her vagina.

Benito felt her begin to thrash and fuck back up beneath him, and he quickened his thrusts, grabbing her flailing legs behind the knees and shoving them roughly back against her shoulders until her ankles locked tightly behind his neck. Her body was bent back almost double and the wetly gleaming pink plane of her pussy was presented up to his driving lunges. Staring down between their bodies, he slowly withdrew the deeply embedded instrument until just the tip of the head rested within the swollen wet lips of her pussy then rammed forward with all his youthful energy, driving the full, throbbing length of his lust-incited member deep into her helplessly exposed vagina. Then again, and again; each wet, flat smack of his hips thudding against her pelvis resounding through the room. His hands insinuated themselves between the cushions and the white full cheeks of her ass, and the young Italian cupped them in his spread fingers and palms, kneading the warmly soft flesh, pulling the white rounded globes far apart. His muscular shoulders pushing against the back of her full rounded calves kept her locked in that helpless position while he rammed his long fiery rod into her moistly dilated pussy, sweeping her buttocks wider and wider apart with each powerful forward lunge of his young straining loins.

Hannah groaned defenselessly beneath him, her flushed face showing a mixture of feelings – pain and pleasure. She was powerless to move as he buffeted her helpless body along the couch cushions, driving her up toward the arm of the sofa with every pounding lunge. Even her arms were pinned down at her sides by her own updrawn legs and she could feel the giant blood-filled head sliding up and down inside her warm viscous passage like a well-oiled piston. His sperm-bloated balls slapped loudly against her anus each time he crushed his loins down into the valley of her buttocks, and wafts of cool air rushed maddeningly between her wide-spread thighs every time he withdrew. His hands cupped her full heaving breasts, twisting and squeezing and tugging at the hard pink nipples until the older woman thought that they would surely burst from the youth's wild manipulation of them.

Suddenly her face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of wild abandoned passion. Her womb flared and the tightly resisting lips of her hair-lined vaginal furrow flowered open to receive the delicious ravishment of her secret genitals. She desperately forced her hands out from under her pinioned legs and wrapped them around his flexing young buttocks as her rotating hips slithered wetly upward to devour his lust-hardened penis. His heavy testicles smacked into the passion-drenched crevice of her buttocks, making the whole sensitive area tingle and contract in response to the strange delightful sensation. Her nails clawed a red streaked path along his back as she pulled him deep and thrust her belly up harder to skewer herself completely on the driving hot flesh of his pumping shaft. Her body began to match his driving thrusts with her own rhythmic thrashings, and the straining spring of the couch squeaked loudly in time to the two tightly entwined bodies struggling wildly against each other. The guttural sounds of deep panting grunts and groans filled the hotel room, mingling with the wet noises of sweat soaked flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked flesh… and the moist viscous slurp of Benito's pile-driving cock fucking madly in and out of her wetly sucking cunt.

"Oooooooh, yessss, ooooooooooh, yesssss," Hannah chanted over and over to herself as the boy ceaselessly slammed his throbbing, expanding prick deep into her white rounded belly with long hard lunges. The youth could feel the cum boiling inside his heated balls as they beat wildly against her upturned ass. He grunted savagely and quickened his stroke, grinding hard and deep until his massively pulsating cock bored far up into the hidden, untouched recesses of her womb. Her breasts heaved and quivered up against the pressure of his chest, the hardened nipples digging into his skin.

Nothing mattered to her now but the delicious waves of stormy feeling in her cunt as his thick impaling shaft drove in and out of her vagina, ramming in all the way until the blood-engorged head began bouncing repeatedly off her cervix.

Suddenly, the rich widow shivered under him! "Oh, God…! Yes, yesssss, I'm cummmmmming. Oh, God, I'm cummmmmmmmming, nowwwwwww!" With a deep-throated groan, her ripely mature body stiffened and began vibrating uncontrollably, wet white cum oozing from the throbbing passage and drowning the Italian boy's long impaling member with its sticky warmth.

Benito paused for a moment, then went berserk as she grunted out her climax against his matted pelvis, her body jerking spasmodically up against him. His harshly kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks of her white globular buttocks hard up against his grinding pelvis, and he rammed his exploding cock all the way to the hilt into the velvet depths of her softly twitching cunt.

Hannah thought her insides were about to split as she felt the head of the deep-sunk penis flex and flare into a hugeness that threatened to tear her belly. Then, suddenly, he erupted, his thick hot liquid shooting deep up into her widely stretched womb, mixing deliciously with the juices of her own sensuality. Her mind whirled in a seemingly endless orgasm as the burning, powerful squirts surged deep inside her, filling her to overflowing with its hot sticky whiteness. The hot drenched walls of her cunt clasped and unclasped, working and sucking around his still driving prick, spilling down into the soft, excitedly clenching crevice of her buttocks and flooding over his own testicles and the base of his cock as he continued to fuck relentlessly into her.

Reaching frantically under her squirming buttocks with both hands, she began to desperately milk at Benito's dancing balls pressed into the split of her behind. Her legs jerked out quivering insanely into the air around his shoulders. The giant prick still continued to throb and flex, jerking its completion in hot white spurts, filling her womb and soaking the soft matted pubic hair it was buried in.

"Oh, God, don't stop, don't ever stop," she pleaded dazedly. The starving pores of her cunt sucked at the lurching cock until it finally gave one last spasmodic jerk and lay limp, far up inside her quivering belly.

Panting, Benito collapsed wearily across her body, feeling her insides still gushing forth around his rapidly deflating prick. At last, she too gave a final jerk and trembled to stillness, her legs splayed obscenely on either side of his heaving body. Her firm, sculptured body felt drained of everything, her belly filled to the bursting point with their hot, sticky-white juices.

Benito lay still for a moment, trying to recover his strength, then slowly pulled himself off Hannah's still form, his cock sliding slowly out of her battered cunt with a lewd wet sound. He could see the wet, matted furrow of her sex glistening in the fading afternoon light. The insides of her thighs were heavily smeared with the juices of love that had run in tiny rivulets out of her vagina to form a pearl-colored pool between her still wide-spread thighs. Smiling, Hannah looked up at Benito's satiated face.

"Now we can go into the bedroom," she sighed, devilishly.

CHAPTER THREE

For the first time in months, Elaine Craig felt relaxed. She sat, becalmed, in the sunshine-bathed plaza; it was almost as if disaster had never touched her. On the table in front of her stood a cool gin-and-tonic. Between sips, the attractive young blonde scribbled brief messages on the postcards she had bought.

"Now I know why San Francisco is called 'Baia de Magnificencia Tremenda'," she wrote to her parents. "This is the most peaceful spot on earth. I love it."

That would please her mother and father, she thought. They were so desperately anxious for her to be happy again – and their anxiety both irritated and oppressed their only daughter.

"I've lost my heart – to San Francisco!" Elaine scrawled largely across the back of another card. That card she addressed to Edward L. Towers, Jr. And let's hope that this time, she told herself, dear Edward L., Junior takes the hint. Unless of course, he was really determined to make a lifetime career out of being the man she was least likely to marry. Stifling a giggle, the girl reached for another card.

She addressed the last of her cards, idly speculating on how long it would be before she saw any of those people again. She suspected that it might be quite a while but the thought did not bother her.

She had arrived in San Francisco the week before and had done little except bask in the sunshine and the easy-paced atmosphere. She was booked in at a small hotel that overlooked Union Square and had drooping fuchsias growing out of its window boxes. Sometimes Elaine wondered when she would have to wake up again.

A fluttering of wings made her look up. Two tourists, a man and a girl, were feeding a flock of pigeons. She turned her head. To her right sat a group of teenage girls, laughing, whispering and eating ice cream. She looked around to her left; a middle-aged couple were sipping experimentally at cups of espresso. Elaine couldn't help noticing that both of them were very good looking.

The realization suddenly came that she was the only person sitting alone; that didn't bother her a bit! A pretty girl on her own attracts attention, and Elaine Craig both expected and enjoyed it.

She leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the spring sun suffuse her body closing her eyes against the glare. Behind the thickly lashed lids, Elaine's eyes were clear blue, set deep in a distinctively boned face. Her heavy blonde hair, streaked by nature and the swimming pool, swung down straight almost to her shoulders. Although she was not conventionally pretty, she possessed an off-beat, sensual kind of beauty that captivated men and mystified other women.

Voices, right beside her, jerked Elaine out of her reverie. She opened her eyes and looked around but for a moment she could see nothing in the dazzling light. Then she realized that the voices were not addressing her, but belonged to a group of sight-seers settling down noisily at the next table. If the group had been aware of Elaine, they would have noticed that her smile, as she turned away, was one of relief.

Leaning forward in her chair, the young blonde reached for the tall glass on the table in front of her. Her gaze wandered to the far end of the patio.

It was then that she saw him, coming through the colonnades.

Elaine froze! Her outstretched hand turned into a furiously clenched fist. It's Warren! was her sole, panic-filled thought. The shock of his sudden appearance held the startled girl rigid in her chair. Immobilized, she sat and watched the approaching figure of her ex-husband, dully aware of the pounding in her head and throat.

It was soon over! "Warren" came to within a few feet of where Elaine sat – and kept right on walking. And he had not been Warren, after all. The man was just another camera-slung tourist crossing the patio at a leisurely pace.

But the stranger was tall and loose-limbed, as Warren had been. He had crew-cut hair and he looked to be about the same age – twenty-eight – that Warren would be. He even had the same jawline and the stand-out ears. But he wasn't Warren. He wasn't her husband – her ex-husband, Elaine reminded herself. She must remember that. The man she had once been married to was thousands of miles from San Francisco.

Elaine's hands were damp. She was exhausted, almost shaking, the turmoil inside her a mixture of rage and fear. She wanted a cigarette badly, but she was not able to open her handbag and take one out of the pack. The tense rigidity of the moment had gone; the immobility remained.

How long had it been since the last time she had suffered the illusion of seeing him? A week at least – perhaps longer.

Warren's "appearance" had been one of the most distressing symptoms to follow the divorce. Wherever she went, Elaine kept seeing her ex-husband. The "divorce syndrome", she had called it in a painful attempt to laugh it off.

She felt the color returning to her face. Her flushed cheeks and over-brilliant eyes were the only outward signs of the reaction setting in. The same reaction that always followed, as night follows day. Every time Elaine "saw" him, she drowned in angry humiliation all over again.

She remembered that afternoon, not so very many months ago, when she had picked up the telephone in her brand-new home in Connecticut. Looking back, Elaine could recognize that time as having been her last moment of innocence.

She also remembered her surprise at finding it was the police who were telephoning her.

"Mrs. Craig? This is Sergeant Reiley. We have your husband here at the station. We'd like to talk to you…"

The memory blur had started there – the blur created in self-defense against too many unpalatable facts, too many truths stripped of their covering, too much reality rushing in until it seemed she would choke…

CHAPTER FOUR

The police had been very considerate toward her. They tried to break the news gently. A policewoman sat beside Elaine in the office, smiling encouragingly from time to time. None of it helped! Outside, the New England countryside blazed with bright autumn color. She remembered thinking about that even as she heard her life explode.

After the routine questions, Elaine was told that her husband had been apprehended while engaged in committing an indecent act. The words jumbled together for Elaine as fact and emotion grated within the blur. But, through it all, came clarity. Elaine was given all the facts. Warren Craig, her husband, had stood on a quiet suburban street near the local school and exposed his penis to a group of little girls. He had tried to entice them closer to him, but after whispering among themselves, the children had run off. Warren had followed them a short way, his trousers still open and his penis out.

He had remained in the area for almost an hour, eventually working his way to the school's then-deserted playground. By that time one of the children had run home, told her mother what had happened, and the tearful mother had called the police.

When the patrol car arrived at the playground, Warren was sitting on one of the swings. Two ten-year-old girls watched him, giggling, while he pulled his penis out of his open fly and then stuffed it back inside his pants again. The girls had come to the station as witnesses when the police brought him in.

For Elaine, ordeal followed upon ordeal. Talking to the psychiatrist had been worse than being told what had happened by the police. "If there's anything you can tell me, anything at all, Mrs. Craig, that might help…"

What was she supposed to tell him? That she'd always suspected her husband… that she'd known he had a desire to expose himself to little girls?

"Were your sexual relations with your husband quite normal, Mrs. Craig?" The doctor's voice was firm and decisive. There was no escape for Elaine then, no way out into tears of rage or self-pity. "It's important that you cooperate with us as fully as possible."

The tone had become gentler, but the questions continued.

"Now tell me… did your husband ever ask you to engage in any sexual perverted acts?"

God in heaven, Elaine thought, when they phrase things so clinically, they somehow manage to make everything sound dirty.

"What kind of thing?" Elaine asked. "If you ask me questions, I suppose I can try to answer them." She could not hide the petulance in her voice, nor did she even try to do so. She felt tired and ill-used. She was the real victim of the situation, she thought, yet no one seemed concerned about what she might be suffering.

"Fine," the psychiatrist said encouragingly. "Well, now, would you describe your husband as impotent?"

It was the first time Elaine had openly admitted the truth, even to herself. She nodded.

"Was he always impotent?"

"Nearly always," she said in a low voice. "We slept… I mean, we had sexual relations only a few times during the whole of our marriage."

"How long have you and your husband been married?"

"Just over a year."

"Is it possible for you to tell me what you thought was your husband's difficulty? In other words, on the occasions when you did engage in sexual activity, can you pinpoint the factor that made it possible for your husband to do so?"

Elaine felt herself growing almost hysterical under the questioning. She wanted to giggle and say, "That's a fancy way of asking me how Warren managed to get an erection," but she suppressed the desire. Already stripped of her dignity, she struggled determinedly to retain a few shreds of composure.

Elaine knew what she must tell the psychiatrist, but some innate reticence held her back momentarily. Reticence… and pride. From the beginning, she'd had to battle for her marriage to Warren. It had begun with her parents' opposition. Elaine had won, as she had known all along that she would, but from the first she had found herself forced into a stubbornly defensive position where her husband, was concerned. After the wedding, she had hidden her disillusionment out of false, nineteen-year-old pride. And, having successfully hidden her humiliation for so long, she could hardly bear having it uncovered and pried apart then.

"Where did you and your husband meet?" prompted the psychiatrist, noticing Elaine's withdrawal and trying to ease her out of it.

"At a friend's house in Vermont. I'd gone for a skiing weekend and Warren was there, too. We fell in love right away. It sounds strange to say it but, at the time, we seemed so right for each other."

"How long was it before you married?"

"A year. I was only eighteen when I first met him. My parents were upset about the whole thing. I'm their only child and… they didn't want me to leave college – all the usual stuff. But I got my way in the end, and we were married. My mother and dad gave us a house as a wedding present."

There was a pause. At that moment, the telephone shrilled on the desk and the psychiatrist murmured, "Excuse me," as he reached to answer it. Elaine sat and wondered how she could find the right words to explain her marriage. It would be best to start at the beginning, she supposed. With the wedding night… Well, first she'd have to tell the psychiatrist about Warren's fetish for physical fitness, about his muscle-making routines, his frequent workouts at the gym. He had believed in body-building exercises… morning and night.

That was how she had come to spend part of her wedding night standing naked, lifting bar bells in front of an open window. Warren wanted her to exercise with him. Afterwards, aching and exhausted, Elaine had stretched out on the huge bed in the hotel's luxurious honeymoon suite. He had moved quickly to the bed where he had lain on top of her, without preliminary love-making of any kind. He just lay there, kissing her face lightly with closed lips and balancing his body on hers as if he were performing yet another muscle-control exercise.

Finally, he had rolled over onto the sheet saying, "You must be tired, honey. I won't bother you tonight." After that, he'd fallen asleep almost immediately. Tired though she was, Elaine could not ignore her growing uneasiness. She had lain awake for hours, staring into the dark. It had been the first of many such vigils.

During their courtship, Elaine had admired Warren's old-fashioned approach to sex. She was not a virgin, but after the crude behavior of some of the college men she had known, his apparent chivalry had appealed to her. But in the still darkness of her wedding night, she wondered if possibly she had not idealized the situation. Instinct told her that something was wrong. Her own limited sexual experiences confirmed the thought. So did the days that followed.

During their honeymoon, she found out that there was only one method by which he was able to achieve an erection. And, as with all impotent men, the method involved a lengthy routine. The routine was more like an obscure tribal ritual, with Elaine, naked, carrying out a series of complicated and exhausting physical exercises, while her husband barked out staccato commands, urging her on to greater and greater effort until she all but collapsed.

She felt herself grow hot with resentment as she remembered the scenes that had taken place between herself and her husband. The oddly excited look on his face as he stood watching her frantic movements while she tried to follow the ever-increasing tempo of his commands, came vividly to her mind; so did the shame she had felt at her own unwitting response to the sight of her husband's stiffening organ.

With a distressed moan, the ashamed young wife buried her face in her hands. By the time the psychiatrist completed his phone call, she was sobbing. It was a little while before she was calm enough to speak clearly. Once the interview was over, Elaine felt drained of all energy. But she had enough strength left to accept the fact that her marriage was finished. The sham was over! There was nothing left to pretend about anymore.

For more than a year, she had stubbornly tried to keep up a facade of being happily married. She'd behaved instinctively, protecting both herself and her husband. It had taken the psychiatrist less than an hour to destroy that facade in a way that made it impossible to piece together again.

Strangely, it had been Warren, himself, who had finally confirmed the destruction. Once, in the beginning he had begged her never to leave him, had asked her with tears in his eyes to bear with him and remain his wife. But after the arrest a different Warren faced Elaine, a grim-faced and monosyllabic man who only spoke to tell her, in halting phrases that everything was her fault, that if it had not been for her, he would not be in such a predicament. Fortunately, he was led back to his cell before she started to scream.

For a time, Elaine had returned to her parents' home in Baltimore. She decided… and her parents agreed… that divorce was the only possible solution. The young blonde had been twenty when her husband had been arrested; her twenty-first birthday took place a week after her divorce became final.

But the divorce was not enough. It provided no escape from those who knew what had happened and whose knowledge was a constant humiliation. She felt continually sullied by the publicity Warren's case had received. He had received a light sentence; and what had happened between the two of them was a secret she could have borne… forever, if need be. His public disgrace was another matter.

It was her father who had suggested a trip. His suggestion came on a day when Elaine had imagined, during a downtown shopping trip, that she had seen Warren twice. She had seized upon her father's words gratefully.

"It would be nice if one of your girlfriends could go with you," Elaine's mother added. "Liz, perhaps, or Marcia?"

Over my dead body, Elaine thought silently. Aloud, she said, "It's a wonderful idea, I'd love it. But I'd prefer to go alone. I need to be alone for a while." She knew that her parents would never be able to refuse her appeal.

Two days later, the troubled young girl boarded the jet for San Francisco…

CHAPTER FIVE

Through eyes blurred with sudden tears, Elaine looked around the plaza. Well, she'd taken the trip! She was in Union Square, in San Francisco. And, damn it, she was enjoying it.

She fumbled clumsily for a much-needed cigarette, and she dropped her handbag. The contents spilled out over the ground. Elaine knelt hastily to collect them… a change purse, her lighter, two lipsticks, her compact, a comb…

"Is this yours?"

The voice came from above Elaine's head. She looked up, squinting against the sunlight. A young man stood beside her, holding a silver dollar in his out stretched hand. He was tall and he wore dark glasses. He spoke with a marked accent.

"Why, yes. Thank you." Elaine straightened up and took the coin. It was the one she always carried, her lucky dollar. Flustered, she began putting her belongings back into her bag. As she dropped her compact into place, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. Another followed it. She was angry at having made a fool of herself.

The voice spoke again, warm with sympathy.

"Please. You are crying. You must sit down. Let me order you a coffee."

It was a relief to do as she was told. Elaine sat down. The young man sat down opposite her. He snapped his fingers at a waiter and within seconds a large black coffee appeared on the table. She drank it gratefully.

"Please, I wish to present myself. My name is Nino."

Elaine looked at him. She recognized him as one of the boys who had been sitting a few tables away from her. She glanced around. The other young man had disappeared.

"I'm Elaine," she said. "Elaine Craig."

"I'm glad to meet you," the handsome youth said. He removed his sunglasses. Dark, serious eyes looked into her face. "I hope you feel better now?"

"Yes, thank you, much better. It was kind of you to help me. I don't know what…"

Her voice trailed away on the lie as she neglected to complete the sentence. She had no intention of explaining what had happened to her.

Nino smiled his understanding. Elaine considered his face thoughtfully. She found it interesting. It was not merely that he was handsome; he had exceptionally fine bone structure. She imagined him to be a highly sensitive person. She wondered if he came from one of those very old, aristocratic families one heard about.

"Is this your first visit to San Francisco?" Nino asked.

"Yes."

"Are you staying long?"

Elaine paused for a moment. The boy's eyes watched her carefully as he waited for her reply. Finally, she said: "Why, yes. I hope so."

Nino did not answer. He simply sat in the sun and smiled…

CHAPTER SIX

Carlo was due to pick up his tour group at two-thirty. After a glance at the watch lying on the bureau, he reflected, for the umpteenth time, that the season had all the earmarks of a real money-maker. The flow of tourists was already promising.

His group for the day was booked in at a second-class hotel in North Beach, only a short walk from the apartment where he lived with his family. While his mother and younger brothers took their customary after-lunch nap, Carlo showered and changed.

The afternoon was cooler than yesterday. Carlo wondered whether or not it would be worth wearing his silk suit. The suit was expensively tailored, and he knew it looked well on his tall, athletic frame. Did guiding a school-group for the afternoon rate the silk suit?

Carlo shrugged. He might as well wear it. You never knew.

He checked his appearance in the bedroom mirror. Although it was still spring, he already had acquired a light tan. He thought with satisfaction that it made him look vigorous. Good. He combed his dark-brown hair and then tucked the comb into the breast pocket of his suit. Last came the cologne. He poured a little of it into the palm of one hand and massaged the back of his neck, taking care not to soil his fresh white shirt. As always, Carlo's attention to detail was meticulous.

He took a final look in the mirror. His narrow eyes – amber colored and long, like the eyes of a cat – studied every detail of his reflection. Apparently reassured, Carlo moved away from the glass and sat down on the iron-frame bed.

He picked up a bunch of papers and flipped through them. It took him only minutes to check the schedule for the afternoon. One of the travel-office clerks had written out the pertinent information in an untidy scrawl. Rendezvous: two-thirty p.m. at the hotel. Number of persons in group: twenty. Eighteen girls – ages fourteen to seventeen – and two adult teachers. The teachers were a Mr. and Mrs. Horace Clark.

Carlo hummed to himself, softly. The setup suggested inviting possibilities.

The tour's schedule read: "Take group by bus from hotel to Fisherman's Wharf. Visit Maritime Museum. Take four p.m. Harbor Cruise. Upon return, tour Fisherman's Wharf. Group to be back at hotel in time for dinner (this means seven p.m.)."

A routine deal, Carlo had lost count of the number of times he'd done it before.

Quietly, he let himself out of the family apartment. On his way to the hotel, he considered the afternoon's prospects. He was confident he could handle the teachers and, out of the eighteen teenage girls, he estimated he could pick out at least half a dozen nymphets. In fact, if these girls were anything like the last group he'd handled, he would be more likely to have trouble dumping those he didn't want.

No, there wouldn't be any trouble with the girls. Which meant he had to decide how he could best make use of them. The Count? The Count de Andros would be interested, of course, but perhaps he wasn't the right man to approach in the first instance. It might be better to make the first approach to Marceau. Marceau Verner III: middle-aged, rich, former international playboy, now confined to his sumptuous mansion with gout and – it was hinted – something rather worse by way of sickness. Marceau liked young girls. Mostly, he liked them two or three at a time, playing special games he had invented for his own diversion.

Carlo smiled to himself. He would give Marceau a call that evening…

CHAPTER SEVEN

The walled garden behind the small cafe was cool in the early afternoon. Vines covered the walls and the overhead trellis; a light breeze blew through the leaves. Fog silently slipped through the Golden Gate.

Elaine Craig shivered slightly, and Nino immediately put his arm around her. His fingers traced a pattern on her bare forearm; and somehow the young blonde divorcee felt comforted by his touch.

"You are cold?" Nino asked, his expression full of concern. It was one of the things that she had found so appealing about him during the past few days: he took their friendship so seriously. It seemed a long time since a man had been concerned about her thoughts and feelings. Too long, in fact. She was accustomed to being spoiled.

Everything about Elaine seemed important to Nino and the girl luxuriated in his interest, telling him all about her Baltimore childhood and endlessly detailing her likes, dislikes and opinions on practically every subject under the sun. The Italian boy had been sympathetic when she told him she was divorced – and that she didn't wish to discuss the matter, ever. He had understood. He seemed to understand so many things about her. She smiled up at him.

"You must have a cognac," Nino said. "It will warm you up."

His arm tightened around her and she felt his fingers into her flesh; his animal warmth seeped through her light cotton dress.

What is the matter with me? she wondered. What is there about this man that arouses me?

As Elaine speculated, the darkly handsome youth slipped his arm further around her, letting his fingers brush lightly across her breast. Then, for a brief second, he held its firm fullness cupped in his hand. Immediately, she pushed his hand away. But it was impossible to conceal her involuntary reaction. At his touch, her nipple grew hard; its outline could be clearly seen pressing against the thin material of her dress.

She flushed, seeing Nino's hot downward gaze. The boy's tongue moistened his lips, and Elaine imagined she could feel his soft warm mouth close around her breast and sense the pull as he sucked on it. She shuddered! When she looked into his eyes, she realized that he had been thinking of exactly the same thing.

"I'll have that cognac," she flustered, trying to cover her sudden confusion. Her voice came out more huskily than usual.

Nino signaled the waiter for two cognacs. As they waited for their drinks in an uneasy silence Elaine remembered that she had not given him any money. She glanced around the garden. There were only three other people there – a very young couple and a man, the latter drinking steadily – but she did not like giving the bill to Nino in front of them. Or in front of the waiter.

It had been difficult to persuade Nino to put their friendship on a reasonable basis.

"No!" he had exclaimed on their second date when Elaine had offered to pay for herself. "You make me feel ashamed."

Elaine had been patient in her argument. She had also been determined to win and finally she had gotten her own way, as usual.

"I appreciate your sentiment, Nino," she'd said. "But this is different. Us, I mean."

Without saying it outright, Elaine managed to convey that she understood Nino's financial difficulties. He had told her he worked as a tourist guide and his salary was abysmally low. After her first date with the young Italian, the young divorcee had decided that she wanted to get to know him better. Besides, she would have her very own tourist guide. And she was quite certain in her or mind that she did not want to spend her time in cheap bars, which would be the only places he could afford.

While Elaine had been arguing her point, the boy had sat staring moodily into his empty coffee cup. She had not been sure whether he had understood her reasoning, but she was perfectly sure that he shared her desire for them to be together as much and as often as possible.

"Your husband – he gives you money?"

The blunt question had come unexpectedly, and she had recoiled in surprise. She had not expected him to ignore her expressed desire to avoid talking about her husband (her ex-husband, she reminded herself). But, on second thought, she supposed Nino's sudden callousness stemmed from his embarrassment about the money situation. She decided to be brisk and businesslike.

"No. I receive no alimony. My father gives me an allowance." Elaine's voice was very cold and her tone successfully fended off any more unwanted questions.

Suddenly, his hand had covered hers as it lay on the table.

"I'm sorry," he'd said softly. "My poor, beautiful Elaine…"

So he had understood after all! That night, Elaine paid exactly half the cost of the dinner and drinks.

On their next date, the young blonde had slipped several bills into the youth's hand and told him to pay for everything out of it. When he tried to return the bills, she'd pushed him away. Nino had stood firm; their argument developed into a physical struggle.

Fighting apparently aroused him. In the middle of their hassle, he had grabbed her and kissed her so roughly that her lips had been bruised. They had been standing in shadow, oblivious of passers-by in the street, a few feet from Elaine's hotel, and the girl could not help wondering what might have happened if they hadn't been in such a public place. She hadn't realized before how strong he was, nor how quickly and easily inflamed.

Later that same night, she had lain in bed in her high-ceilinged room, restless and unable to sleep. She could still feel the boy's virile young body thrust itself demandingly against her. Her own desire swelled as she remembered it, and her hands moved of their own volition to trace the memory across the curve of her stomach and down. She rolled over onto her side, her body shuddering spasmodically. It was a long time before she drifted into uneasy sleep.

The subject of money had not been openly discussed again. Now as they sat in the little garden behind the cafe, Elaine opened her purse and palmed a twenty dollar bill. Unobtrusively, she put her hand under the table and touched his leg. When his hand came to hers, she passed him the bill.

The waiter brought the two glasses of cognac which they had ordered. Nino gave the twenty to the waiter.

"What shall we toast to," she asked, raising her glass.

Nino raised his glass, touching hers. "To… to tonight," he answered, a wide smile spreading across his expressive features.

Elaine hesitated a moment. She knew what the Italian boy meant by the phrase "tonight"; and it was obvious that soon, before tonight, she would have to make a decision as to how far she could let their friendship go… if the decision hadn't already been made by her love-starved body. Finally she answered, "To tonight." When she raised the glass to her lips, the young blonde noticed her hand was trembling.

They were still drinking an hour later, both of them sitting pensively in silence… occasionally moving to take a sip of their sixth cognac. The garden seemed suddenly empty without the constant chatter. The other couples in the cafe had gone; the lone man still sat drinking steadily, quietly absorbed in some alcoholic world of his own.

Elaine snuggled closer to Nino. He smiled. The cognac was doing its work… enveloping her body and mind in languid sensuality. He slipped his hand to her ripely firm thigh, so wonderfully warm even through her thin summer frock. She glanced down at his hand but made no move to remove it.

His hand reached her knee, then slid underneath her cotton dress. She felt his fingers probing her inner thigh.

"Tonight, we will go to my apartment."

Nino's statement was blunt. Elaine felt she should refuse, but abruptly she also knew she could not! She did not want to refuse.

His words became more coaxing. "We will eat dinner there. It will be nicer at the apartment."

Elaine nodded, durably. Neither of them was thinking of dinner. She looked at the youth's fine Italian features as he bent his head toward her. The steady look in his dark eyes sent a stab of excitement shooting through her belly. Swiftly, he leaned close and flicked his tongue between her lips. Then he straightened up and gave her his hand. She staggered slightly as she rose.

When they went from the cafe up the hill toward California Street, they walked slowly… their arms wrapped around each other's waists.

CHAPTER EIGHT

As Carlo walked toward the apartment he shared with Nino, he reflected on the afternoon's tour. As he had expected, it had proved fruitful. Of the eighteen girls he had quickly picked out two: fourteen-year-old Sharon, a slender blonde with a boy's hips and small pointy breasts; and sixteen-year-old Connie, a precocious redhead with the full figure of a mature woman. The rest had been easy.

As the tour had progressed, it became clear that Sharon and Connie were the leaders of a small clique of six or seven girls. They were very interested in Carlo, almost suffocating him with their attention. Dutifully he had droned on with information, pretending not to notice the frenetic flirting. He had been pleased to see that the girls were obviously piqued by his apparently disinterested attitude.

But his opening had not come until they were back at the hotel. As he was leaving Mr. and Mrs. Clark's room after planning the next days tour, one of the hallway doors opened and a finger beckoned. Carlo recognized the giggle coming through the half-opened door. It was Connie.

Eight girls were sprawled around the room. They were in varying stages of undress, supposedly getting ready for dinner. It seemed that Connie had been elected spokeswoman for the group.

"Carlo," she said as soon as he entered the room, "we want to ask you something. Can you tell us where we can go to have some fun in this dump? We're sick and tired of this ten o'clock bedtime deal. Anyone would think we were kids! Aren't there any nightclubs or something?"

Carlo lounged against the door, looking slowly around the room. Then he started talking. The situation was tailor-made for him.

Making the necessary arrangements with the girls had been easy. His only problem had been holding them back until the next night. They'd wanted to go right away. But now it was all laid on the line. The following evening, the girls would pretend to go to bed as usual, after dinner. Once they were sure Mr. and Mrs. Clark were out of the way, they'd sneak out of the hotel. Carlo would be waiting for them outside. He had promised them a party they would never forget…

The party though would take considerable planning and there were many telephone calls to be made. He would make them from the apartment, even though this was Nino's night.

He quickened his pace, knowing he had to reach the apartment before Nino. According to their agreement, Carlo had no right to it tonight, should not even be near it! It was one of their strictest rules, one he, himself, had absolutely insisted on. Now he was going to be the first to break it.

But it's important, he argued with himself! If I don't make the calls immediately, it will be too late. I must speak to Marceau tonight. And the Count. And everyone else. The apartment is the only place I dare use.

And anyway, he mused, Nino would probably be late. The way his friend went about working an a girl, he might not get her to the apartment until after midnight. Meanwhile, all that was necessary was a half hour on the telephone. Nothing else!

As he walked, Carlo wondered whether he might not claim one of the school girls for himself. They were attractive, sexy little things. They knew how to arouse a man. At that age they did it instinctively and were exciting in bed without being blase about it.

The pleasure of taking a young girl was something Carlo had not experienced for many months. Not since the summer before, in fact. There had been hundreds of other women in the interim, naturally, almost all of them older than Carlo. There had also been several men, but a job is a job.

The party he was about to organize should be very interesting. The Italian youth was entirely absorbed in his plans by the time he hurriedly opened the street door and strode swiftly through the hall, taking the stairs three at a time. He was so anxious to get to the telephone that he completely forgot to check on the prearranged signal – the open mailbox door which showed whether the apartment was already occupied.

It was not until he reached the apartment landing that he remembered he hadn't checked the mailbox, but by that time he was already inside the door. It was dark in the narrow hallway, but the worried youth didn't need the light. There were two doors leading off the corridor, one at the far end and one on the left-hand side. Both were shut, and no light filtered into the passage. Carlo breathed a sigh of relief. Nino and his girl had not yet arrived.

In two strides, Carlo reached the door on the left, opening into the kitchen. He went straight to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, snapped off the cap and poured out a glassful. He drained the beer in a couple of gulps, then refilled the glass. He felt hot and thirsty.

The kitchen was large, simply furnished and had the bleak look common to rooms that are seldom used. A wooden table and four chairs stood under the window. Carlo could not remember a meal ever having been eaten there.

Carrying his glass of beer in one hand, Carlo went back into the hall and then through the second door. This led into a room twice the size of the kitchen, it was furnished as a living room but also served as a bedroom. A double bed was concealed in a piece of furniture that looked like a sideboard and book-shelf unit. There were also three small easy chairs, two large leather armchairs, a velour-covered divan, a bureau, two leather hassocks, a couple of occasional tables and a massive, highly polished wardrobe that dominated one entire wall.

Light came into the room through the long windows in the far wall. A red velvet curtain hung in one corner; behind the curtain another door led into a gold-tiled bathroom.

A magazine lay on one of the small tables; several ashtrays needed emptying. The cushions on the divan were rumpled. The room was definitely not tidy. Yet, cluttered as it was, it did not really look as if it were lived in. It had the atmosphere of temporary usefulness.

Carlo glanced at his watch. Christ! It was seven-thirty. He would have to hurry if he was to get out before Nino arrived. Pulling a key ring out of his hip pocket, he selected the smallest key and fitted it into the lock of the bureau. After taking a leather-covered notebook from inside, he carefully relocked the bureau again.

He sat down beside the cane table on which the telephone stood. "Verner, Verner," he muttered, as he thumbed hastily through his notebook. "Ah." He started dialing a seven-digit number.

"Hello?"

Carlo recognized the voice of Nick, Marceau's valet.

"This is Carlo," he announced himself. "Is Marceau there?"

The valet told him to wait, and it was a full five minutes before Marceau came on the line. Carlo had counted every precious minute on his watch. The conversation began with polite inquires about health, followed by a rundown on the latest San Francisco gossip. The anxious youth contained himself patiently. After several more minutes of social chitchat, he felt the moment was appropriate to broach the subject of the young girls.

"It's a little difficult for me to arrange the party here," Marceau objected at once, as Carlo had known he would.

Carlo ignored the objection.

"There is a young blonde," he murmured softly. "She is barely fourteen, so slim and fair and so fragile…"

"But tomorrow night?" Marceau grumbled pettishly. "Couldn't you have given me more notice?"

"She is a virgin," Carlo went on. "There are others, too. One with hair to her waist and the figure of a child…"

There was a pause. Marceau spoke again, in a slightly thickened tone.

"You realize it's not convenient for me." He cleared his throat, "A blonde did you say? Ah! I need time, you understand. I'll call you back. You seem to think I can arrange a party at a moments notice and entirely at your convenience. I'm a busy man, you know, my responsibilities."

Carlo held the receiver away from his ear; he had heard all these complaints many times before. While Marceau grumbled unconvincingly, the young Italian was already checking through his book for the phone number of the Count. As soon as the aging playboy rang off, he dialed the other number.

The conversation was short and satisfactory. The Count was enchanted to hear from Carlo. A party thrown by Marceau Verner? For a group of young girls? But how delightful! Very young girls? The Count would never forgive himself for not taking the opportunity to pay his respects.

"You'll come alone?" asked Carlo, holding the telephone in one hand while lighting a fresh cigarette with the other.

"Yes. That is – no, no, no." The Count sounded confused. "I have a house guest. From back east. That is all right?"

"Fine." All Carlo wanted to do was finish the call. He didn't care whether or not the Count brought his house guest to the party. "Male or female?" he asked.

"Male."

"Fine."

The phone call finally came to an end. Carlo stubbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another. He needed to think carefully for a moment or two. Who else should be invited? Marceau always insisted that his little "parties" should be at least outwardly respectable. Which meant that some women had to be included on the guest list. And some young men. Well, Benito would do for one. Then there'd be himself and… and maybe Nino. Sure, Nino! It would serve him right. As for the women… Maria Accari was an old friend of both Marceau and the Count, so she should be invited. She'd probably bring her young friend Sue along.

Again, Carlo checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He considered for a moment. If he remained in the apartment any longer, he would really be pushing his luck. On the other hand the phone calls had to be made at once. He grabbed the receiver off the hook. As he began dialing, he said a silent prayer that Nino was taking things slow and easy.

Half a dozen calls later, the boy stubbed out another cigarette and stood up with a sigh of relief, fully satisfied with the arrangements. He glanced at his watch. It was eight-forty-five.

He pushed the notebook into his jacket pocket. He would not bother unlocking the bureau again. The cigarette smoke didn't matter – the apartment usually smelled of stale smoke. It was unlikely that anyone would notice the traces of his visit.

He was halfway across the living room when a sudden noise made him stop in his tracks. There were footsteps on the landing outside the apartment. He froze, waiting. A key was being turned in the lock of the apartment door! There was a pause… then the sound of Nino's voice came from the far end of the hall.

Sonofabitch! This was bad. Carlo hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but he felt as though he stood, poised, listening and waiting, for an eternity. As his thoughts raced, two salient points were firm in his mind. Nino would be furious if he discovered that Carlo had used the apartment out of turn. Secondly, Carlo's presence might well ruin his friend's whole setup. Nino had told Elaine the apartment was his own bachelor pad; Carlo knew that for a fact. He also knew Elaine was a rich girl. There was only one thing he could do to salvage the situation. He had to hide.

As Nino and Elaine stepped into the hall, Carlo acted swiftly. Two silent steps brought him to the outsized wardrobe. He turned the old-fashioned brass handle and thanked God that the huge doors didn't squeak as they opened. He stepped into the darkness and quickly pulled the doors closed behind him. In the musky black interior of the old wardrobe, all he could hear at first was the thumping of his own heart.

"Oh, but it's a cute place!"

Elaine's exclamation carried quite clearly inside the wardrobe. Instinctively, Carlo turned his head toward the sound of her voice. To his surprise, he found that his hiding place gave him a good view of the lighted room. There was a wide gap where the two wardrobe doors no longer fitted together perfectly. It was wide enough to make him wonder for a moment whether the boy and girl could see in as well as he could see out. Common sense reassured him. He was safe enough, provided he kept quiet.

"You like my apartment?" Nino asked.

"Mmmm, yes. It has great possibilities," Elaine said thoughtfully. "The furnishings don't look quite right, somehow, but if someone took an interest in the decor…"

The young blonde was standing in the middle of the room, looking around her. She was in Carlo's direct line of new. When Nino appeared by her side and put his arm around her waist, she did not resist him.

Carlo found he had enough room to sit down. He lowered himself cautiously, making no sound. When he was comfortably settled, he peered out again.

He appraised the girl as she stood across the room from him, totally unaware of his scrutiny. Nino had switched on one of the lamps; in its light, Elaine's pale-blonde hair gleamed softly. It hung straight to her shoulders, shaking like a silken curtain with every movement of her head. Her skin looked almost translucent in the artificial light.

Nino pulled her closer to him.

"You are very beautiful," he said simply, gazing into her upturned face with a look of utmost sincerity.

She's ready for a fucking all right, thought Carlo, observing the flush of excitement across the girl's cheeks and the brilliant blue of her eyes. He saw her wetly parted lips open.

"No, Nino," she whispered. Her hand pushed feebly at his chest. "No, no…" Her whisper was almost inaudible.

In answer, Nino gripped her more tightly. He bent his head and kissed her full upturned mouth. Carlo watched as the sensually beautiful girl made one last attempt to pull away before she abandoned herself to Nino's embrace. She rose on tiptoe, and her ripely voluptuous body arched backward as the Italian boy bore down on her. His hand groped roughly for her straining upthrust breast; Carlo saw his fingers spread greedily across it.

Suddenly, Elaine twisted violently away from him. She was breathing hard and trembling; unsteadily, she moved back and sank onto the divan behind her. She buried her face in her hands; there was a sound of muffled sobs.

Nino's eyes narrowed as he stood looking at her. Then he took a deep breath and sat beside her on the couch. Gently, very gently, he took her hands away from her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Please, Nino. I don't want… I don't know…" Elaine's voice trailed away. She seemed close to hysteria.

"I love you, Elaine," the boy softly murmured. He dropped a kiss into the palm of her hand. "I love you because you are so beautiful and so wonderful. You are the most wonderful girl I have ever met in my whole life."

From his hiding place, Carlo saw the young divorcee's body begin to relax at the words. Her face became calmer.

"But… you hardly know me… How can you know? How can you tell if you love me?"

He smiled, and put his arm around her again. After a moment, she lay passively against him.

"I knew from the first time I saw you," he said.

Her blue eyes stared into his face.

"Me, too," she breathed, her lush young body quivering with a rapidly growing desire. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her again.

As Nino bent over her, he could see the curve of her thick lashes against her delicate skin. For the first time that evening, he was touched by genuine emotion. Then his lips met hers and he forgot everything except that his physical desire for this blonde girl overwhelmed every other consideration.

His tongue swam into her mouth, and he felt her tongue, trembling, fleeing before his onslaught. Then, imperceptibly at first, she began to respond. The low moan was wrenched from the depths of her soul, and her arms snaked around his shoulders pulling him in closer to her. Their tongues fought a pitched battle for supremacy, then she acknowledged defeat and permitted his tongue to move in and out of her mouth as though it were some incredibly small, overly excited penis.

The darkly handsome youth began using his hands to stroke her back. At first he concentrated on a point just above and inward from the shoulder blades – where he knew the erogenous breastbands lay. Then he moved down to a point on the back just above the soft fullness of her smoothly rounded buttocks – massaging gently, kneading with his fingertips.

She began trembling and moaning low in her throat as Nino's hungrily searching hands moved freely over her back. It was not until he cupped her right breast in his palm that she tried to pull away and protest. The objection lasted less than twenty seconds, and then she seemed to move in even closer to him. During it all their tongues played – chasing, darting, hiding, stroking each other. The youth's left hand moved gently up the back of her dress and found the zipper. He tugged at it, and the soft whisper was lost in her moan. Using his left hand only, he expertly unsnapped her brassiere. She stiffened when she felt the sudden release of pressure against her breasts, and attempted to shake her head. He, however, paid no heed to her unspoken protest. Quickly, as though he were unwrapping a priceless artifact, he peeled the thin cotton material from her left shoulder. The dress now hung suspended by her left breast and her right shoulder. Then, and only then, did his mouth leave hers.

"Nino… we can't…" she began, but then closed her eyes in rapture as his tongue began tracing a wild pattern of sensation down her neck and across her shoulder. Lower, lower his mouth moved until he felt her bra cup against his chin. He simply reached up and pulled it loose. Her creamy breast, like a fully ripened melon, was there before his eyes. In the middle of the areola, her erect nipple stood like a bulging brown ivory tower. With a loud groan of hunger, his voracious mouth fastened itself moistly on the succulent mound of flesh. His groan was echoed by her moan, and tremulously, her hands came up and cupped his head, holding it there in reverence and unconcealed pleasure.

"Nino… oh, Nino," she said, over and over again as his teeth nibbled at the nipple, and his mouth and tongue played havoc with the passion-inflamed nerve ends. After a moment, he reached up with his other hand and slowly pulled down the right cup. His devouring mouth moved over to that side, leaving the left tit shining with his saliva. Now Elaine's dress was held up only by her right shoulder, and she made only a token protest when he slipped the dress all the way down to her waist. Both shoulders were bare and her magnificent naked breasts were revealed to his eyes.

Abruptly, his mouth left her nipples and worked its way upward once more. They kissed savagely, and her own hunger was so great that her teeth actually bit into his lips.

Then, suddenly, Elaine felt his hands move away from her body. "What? What…" she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes and saw Nino standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the huge bulge in his pants where his massively aroused penis raged against its confinement.

"Stand up," he said.

"What?" She didn't understand.

"Stand up, baby. I'm going to undress you."

Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then – actually blushing because she was going to have to be a willing participant and net a passive one – she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her dress – already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts were there, shining in tie half-light; and her black panties were rolled halfway down over her smooth alabaster hips.

Nino gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had ever seen before could top this – maybe one or two of the Forth Beach dancers he had fucked could come close to matching the body, but never before this combination of body and face. His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, hoarse, all choked up with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful!" He took a step forward, kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure motion, peeled her little black bikini panties down to her ankles. He gently lifted her right leg, then her left, disengaging her feet from the panties, before tossing the nylon undergarment on the couch.

His eyes focused on the nylon hosiery held up by the garterbelt and he decided to leave the stockings and belt on her; the nylons would feel tremendously sensual against his own bare buttocks when she wrapped those long satiny legs around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked up… up… up, past the tops of the nylon hosiery, and saw and smelled the enticing female aroma coming from the softly pouting lips of her cunt… all pink and shining from her oozing vaginal lubricant. He thought about eating her pussy while she was standing, but some instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch. Even though he had made the decision, he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased legs and thighs, working his way from calf to thigh.

Elaine stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge throughout her entire love-hungry young body with each kiss he planted on her nylons. She could feel the heat of his lips through the material of the hosiery could feel the cool rush of air playing over her bare buttocks and breasts. For some reason or other, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only garter belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came into contact with the nude flesh above the top of her nylons. He rained kisses on both thighs and used his tongue to lick the sleek inner part of her thighs from just above the point where the stockings ended to… to… She stiffened as his lips suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement began to burn in her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was gently tugging at her figure to turn her around… obediently she turned, and now his lips were moving over the lower part of her back… and then to her slightly trembling buttocks.

His lips and kisses on her bare flesh had started things happening in her body. She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a violent rhythm of love… as if his penis were actually in there moving in and out. Her full ripe breasts had begun to ache, and her body was beginning to tremble uncontrollably.

Elaine had never felt so weak. So helpless before in her life. She stood there, waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Nino's hungry lips left her buttocks and he stood upright. The young Italian put his hands on her shoulders and slowly turned her to face him again. Their mouths came together hungrily, and his tongue tucked in and out of her mouth rapaciously. Then, still French-kissing, he eased her down onto the couch. She sat, then lay back, face up, as Nino put her legs in the position he wanted them, with one leg on the floor and the other bent at the knee and pressed against the back of the couch.

The young blonde divorcee lay there, mesmerized, as the darkly handsome youth quickly pulled off his shoes and socks, stripped off tie and shirt, and then dropped his pants and undershorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him standing there above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with unconcealed lust. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to broad muscular shoulders, and flat belly, and… and…

The thick rigid penis stood out proudly, like a king's scepter, from his curly patch of black hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to reach out for her. Its huge, lust-bloated head seemed to throb with an unbelievable life of its own.

"Do you like it, baby?" Nino asked softly, watching as her body twisted seductively on the black velour couch… as though she were trying to grind the material into her buttocks. "Christ," he thought, "the way she's looking at my cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it off."

"Yes… oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's… beautiful."

Nino knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the possibilities of a sixty-nine. But again, his sure, infallible instincts told him that such a thing might be a little premature; later, definitely! But she'd have to be brought along. He just couldn't understand it. What kind of a man had she been worried to? He'd probably never gone down on her… and, if I'm right, never had her sucking on his cock, even though she looks starved for it.

Elaine was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw the boy lower himself onto the couch beside her. His bare hip touched her naked rib cage and she jumped as if seared by a hot brand. His head dipped once again to her fevered breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then the other, into his voracious mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until Elaine wanted to scream out in ecstatic delight. Waves of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire body, and she could feel it from the tips of her jutting nipples to the tips of her toes.

Now Nino's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of lust between her rapidly heaving breast and navel. He kissed and sucked and gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where the hipbone serves as an anchor for supple flesh that flares out to become globes of the buttocks, and his warm wet kisses rained over the sides of her naked young buttocks.

Then abruptly, she was aware that his tongue and mouth were coming back again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling between her outspread thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, then drew a straight uninterrupted line to her sparse, softly curling pubic hair. He breathed hotly into the softness of the golden pelt; it was at that moment Elaine first realized what Nino was going to do next and knew the throbbing target of his fevered lips and tongue.

"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No… that's wrong." It was terribly wrong what he was about to do… perverted, dirty!

Nino heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin inwardly because he knew now, positively, that her husband had never done this to her… for if he had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; she would know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling between her widespread legs, his fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. His eyes paid homage to the wonderful little mouth of sex, all pink and oozing love from the pair of cuntal lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the shrine, he the pilgrim who had traveled a long distance to pay homage.

"No… Nino… please… please…" she moaned. "You can't…"

"I can, baby. Just lie there. I want to do this for you. This is one of the most exquisite things a woman can feel. Lie there, let me do the work for a minute. I'm going to kiss and lick your pussy. Oh, if you only knew how beautiful your little cunt is, how I've wanted to do this for you. I'm going to lick and suck at your clitoris; you'll scream with joy. I'm going to bury my tongue deep into your pussy… and I'm going to suck and lick until you cum."

The salacious words and what they implied, the visual imagery of what was about to happen, caused the love-starved young blonde to begin shaking with a wanton, uncontrollable desire. She was about to permit a degenerate act to be done to her down there between her helplessly open legs… not only permit it, but knowingly encourage it to be done because her body was crying out for it. She knew that her pelvis had felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward his lips at any minute. Shame, guilt, fear… all disappeared under the tidal wave of shameless lust. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it. His words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so completely at the mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as he did what he said he was going to do… as long as he gave her relief and joy and happiness.

"Oh, Nino…" she whispered, then lay back, feeling the velour scratching against her bare shoulders and tickling the inner crevice of her buttocks. There was a movement on the couch, then the Italian youth said, "Lift your hips." Eyes closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her buttocks. Almost immediately, he began showering her belly with wildly fervent kisses. His hot mouth moved up again to her feverishly straining breasts then to her rib cage; his tongue flicked and quivered all over her upper torso. The naked young divorcee was about to go out of her mind with lust. Her hips had begun grinding a lewdly sensuous circle around and around on the pillow, and her head started lolling from side to side. Finally, in a voice she hardly recognized as her own, she moaned, begging, "Do it… do it to me… please…"

"Do what?" Nino asked, watching her lust contorted face, feeling his cock about to explode from excitement. Christ, she was really turned on now… she was about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn't even started the preliminaries.

"Lick me… like you said," Elaine whimpered and then sobbed in shame.

Grinning in triumph, the boy moved slowly and tantalizingly down her abdomen again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up higher and higher. Her pelvis was making little up-and-down motions as though it were blindly seeking something. Finally, not even he could stand the sweet torment any longer, so he roughly spread her thighs even further apart, used his thumbs to separate her soft, hair-fringed vaginal lips, and then without warning savagely rammed his tongue deep into her hotly quivering cunt.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Elaine screamed as the sleek hot tongue slashed into her, harder and harder, and her body reacted with convulsive lurches. Her hands cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to rip it out by the roots, and seemingly tried to pull his tongue his nose, his entire face deeper, ever deeper, into her cock-starved vaginal cavity. She heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. Above the sound of her wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my God! How beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn't this happened to me before? Why? Why? Why? It feels so… so… wonder… fulllllll."

Nino continued his voracious sucking and tonguing of her moistly quivering pussy, his hands slipping up over her belly to her taut moon-shaped breasts once more, cupping and squeezing the bulging creamy flesh continuously while his mouth and tongue slaved away over her torridly rippling vagina.

The vacuum created by Nino's voraciously sucking mouth made obscene noises that seemed to fill the room, and Elaine reacted to the lewd sound as if it were the music of love – as, indeed, it was. Now that the boy's wildly searching tongue had scoured the pussy sheath, it began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her neglected clitoris.

Elaine shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the little budded nerve ending between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue made wicked, ecstatic little circles around and around it.

Elaine's head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to side; her hips were thrashing up and down – around and around – as she sought to bring other erotic nerve endings into play with his tongue.

Nino made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with tremendous pressure, all the while moving his tongue downward along the fevered, incredibly smooth slit. He licked from clitoris to a point close to the anus, feeling the soft curling pubic hair teasing against his lips and cheeks, tasting the bittersweet honey of her feminine secretions and the slightly saline perspiration that brought a tantalizing sheen to her buttocks.

Elaine's wails of delight had become continuous now; she no longer attempted to make sense… no longer could make sense… unintelligible moans, groans, mewls, and grunts came babbling out her throat. During it all her mind was screaming, "Wonderful… oh, God! So… beautiful… so bea… uuuuu… teeee… ful." And, suddenly, somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was aware of a velvet electricity building up and moving, quietly and unobtrusively, warm and vibrant. She arched her body up, seeking to intensify that electrical feeling.

From his place of concealment, in the closet, Carlo could see Elaine's face flushing red from the intensity of her effort, her eyes wide in unseeing rapture in her quest for fulfillment; although he prided himself in his monumental self-control, he had an erection that would have done justice to a stallion.

As Elaine ground her pussy greedily up against his face, Nino heard the sound of her breathing increase in tempo. He realized then that she was coming close to orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the knowledge. By God, he thought, she's going to get the surprise of her life when she cums. The knowledge that he was licking her where no one had ever licked before brought new strength to his tongue. He began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, faster… faster… faster, shoving his hard hot tongue into her quivering, lust-dilated slit. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure when he swirled and flicked his tongue around the overly sensitive, pulsating inner lips of her vagina. She was coming closer, ever closer, and so he slipped his hands beneath her wantonly undulating buttocks – cupping them in his hands as though they were some sacrificial offering – and shoved his face even harder between her pulsating thighs. He watched her face appear and disappear between her bouncing breasts and sank his teeth – not brutally, but savagely enough to bring pain – into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again… an unholy shriek of pure animal lust, her lips curling in wild contortion back over the whiteness of her teeth.

Elaine's wanton cries of passion filled the living room. She had long since burrowed her nakedness down into the velour couch – and she could feel the material's nap invading her buttocks, could feel it under her armpits, on the back of her sweat-slippery neck. If his wonderful tongue hadn't been shoved deep into her vagina she would have attempted to push the velour in there.

Abruptly, Nino dipped down and began shifting his shoulders – first the left, then the right. He had them under her widespread thighs now, and began levering them up until they were draped over his shoulders. The entire expanse of her inflamed, helpless loins was now bared in naked abandonment to his long thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth. He thrust his tongue in deeper than it had been at any time, and momentarily thought he could feel, with his tongue, the ending of her warm vaginal cavity and the beginning of her hot lonely uterus aching for a cock.

Elaine knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she didn't care. Nothing mattered any longer except that tongue which was carrying her to unsuspected heights of rapture. Deep in her mind, a happy ecstatic little voice kept crying out, "Oh, Nino… thank you… oh, God… wonderful… good… good… ahhh… God!" She was peaking, rapidly climbing to that seldom-reached pinnacle of sensation which she knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had been wonderful… and she knew she had long since passed the point of arousal where she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had never been at his height before, and abruptly, Nino began doing something that drove her ahead of him… higher… higher… higher into the forbidden ratified atmosphere of the forbidden delight.

Her buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his relentless tongue, her pelvis had been whipping up and down with superhuman strength against his face, and her groans had turned to moans which had become shrieks of unexcelled rapture, when Nino slowly slipped his tongue out of her desperately clenching vagina. He made one tentative lick at her clitoris, which brought a scream of delight from her, then began a devilishly slow downward licking toward the tiny puckered ring of her obviously virginal anus. The shamelessly aroused young blonde gasped at the first searing contact with that forbidden orifice. Her breath was coming now in huge gulping swallows which rasped and whistled through her lust-constricted throat. She took a deep breath and almost swallowed her tongue when her errant mind finally realized what the Italian boy was about to do. Now her conscience really screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile and perverted. It was sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried out in dismay and protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had leapt up and spread her thighs wider of their own volition so he could bring his tongue into seething wet contact with the tiny, puckered little anal mouth.

Nino wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the tight little hole and was rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her lushly naked body as she raised her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him additional depth and working room. He licked and sucked and continually rammed his tongue into the tiny little anus which gyrated in wanton abandonment; there was no taste except a salinity and slight pungency that reminded him of her pussy. Now, across his shoulders, her thighs had begun to quiver spasmodically and her heels had begun beating a tattoo of impending rapture on his spine and buttocks. She was close, so Goddamned close that he could stop right now and she'd still cum without another thing being done to her. Let her cum! Let her cum first by tongue, then by cock! His painfully throbbing penis soon had to have relief or his balls would swell up in agony and probably explode. He began to drive his long wet tongue harder and harder into her tightly puckering anal passage, all the while exciting her clitoris with one hand and squeezing her breasts with the other. Abruptly, as he heard her breath catch in what he knew was the beginning of the onslaught of a climax, he drew his tongue out of her anus, returned it to her saliva and lubricant-drenched pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally fuck her while his nose scraped and rubbed her clitoris.

That did it!

Elaine writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until she no longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as nerves began shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in the area of her wildly quivering vagina. The glow did not remain a glow for more than a second; it was merely the beginning of a fire and earthquake which began wracking her love-starved loins and belly. The earthquake moved rapidly up the scale and suddenly she knew there wasn't any doubt about it. She was cumming! Cumming in his mouth.

She was cumming!

The scream was half-human, half-animal, and it ripped from her lust-contorted throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over end toward the jagged rocks.

"I'm cumming… Nino… Nino… Nino! I am… cummmm… ing!" She locked her hands behind his head and used every bit of muscular power to shove his wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and face further and deeper into her wildly pulsating genitals. Her love juices spurted onto his face and then began to flow copiously from her wetly convulsing cunt. Her viscous liquid inundated Nino's face and tongue and, escaping his voraciously sucking mouth, began flowing down from pussy to tortured rectum, where it dripped against the pillow and gathered in a sticky pool on the velour couch. She continued to wail in rapture as the mercilessly pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds it had gone, but now dimly within her lush young body she felt the roaring tidal wave of sensation cresting and breaking over her. Her delighted, almost incoherent scream told the story, "I'm cumming again…"

Surprised, Nino felt her nakedly voluptuous body begin twitching uncontrollably once more. The second orgasm had hit within thirty seconds of the first, and he hadn't done a thing except lick some of her cum from her wet vaginal lips. "Christ," he said to himself, "she really was turned on." And then his surprise deepened even further for the wantonly writhing girl was obviously cumming a third time… all three climaxes occurring within a minute.

Elaine's impending climax was more than the hidden Carlo could bear, and his own massively thick cock had sprung to an even greater tautness as he watched his friend hungrily suck at the delectable blonde's pussy. His hand had slipped at his fly, released the straining member, and slowly began stroking the bulbous shaft.

Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, Nino pulled his flushed, glistening face away from Elaine's loins and said, "Save some for me, baby."

She heard his voice from far, far off. The earthquake, the tidal wave, both were fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite… so beautiful… that she wanted to sleep – to doze off with the memory of it still in her mind. Nothing could ever again be so exquisite, so perfect. She felt her legs being lowered from his shoulders, and, with a sigh of satiated exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let her head fall loosely back. Now her hips were being lifted as the pillow was removed. Now, the velour was caressing her buttocks once more. But even as she felt all this, there was a velvet expectancy once again in the far depths of her uterus and vaguely she perceived that she was cumming again – only this tiny one was merely an aftershock, a little present from her body, a song, a memory, a poem to his tongue… small, but delightful.

The darkly handsome youth looked down at her sweet-streaked nakedness. She was taking deep, shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation. His apprehension returned again. She looked as if she had been fucking all night and was too tired to go again. He hoped her energy hadn't been depleted completely; he'd like a little life in the pussy. He lifted himself on his knees and moved up until he was over her body. "Elaine… did you like that?"

She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping. The tears had completely inundated her eyes in less than three seconds, and they were already flowing down her cheeks to splash on the velour couch. God he had made her feel so vitally alive, so beautiful… and she knew she had missed so much out of life because of Warren's inadequacy and ignorance.

Alarmed, Nino asked, "Elaine… is everything all right?"

Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming over her. She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both hands and pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in appreciation. She tasted her own cum, her own vagina! After a moment, she released him with the statement; "My darling… it was… was… beautiful." And even as she said it, she realized how impotent that word "beautiful" was when it came to expressing her true feelings. "Nino… I never realized anything, could be so… so…" She couldn't finish.

The boy grinned in satisfaction. "It's going to be even better because I'm going to fuck you now. I'm going to put my cock where my tongue was a moment ago. It aches and cries out for you, it wants to fuck you… I want to shoot my load of hot, throbbing cum deep in your belly, deeper than anyone has ever been before. What you just had was only the beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don't you?"

His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly coming back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter bewilderment that Elaine realized her earlier hunger had returned tenfold. She wanted more of him, and so she told him using his own language, "Yes… fuck me… fuck me harder and deeper than I've ever been fucked before."

"Put it in for me," Nino ordered, lowering his hips toward her sensually waiting body.

Elaine paused a moment, then reached down between their bodies and searched for his hardness. She found it immediately; it would have been impossible not to find it, as large and as hard as it was. She thrilled as her fingers wrapped around its hot throbbing vibrancy. She could feel every muscle, every tendon, every beating vein in that cock-head. She enclosed it tightly in her fist, then stroked it, moving the pliant flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She was pleased when he moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and fingers; she wanted to delight him, to repay him some way.

There were a lot of things she supposed she could do, but she had no knowledge of what he would consider dirty… or unacceptable. Besides, the heat was building up rapidly in her loins. Her wetly throbbing vagina wanted his long hard penis in there – wanted it in the worst way. Even now she imagined she could feel it sliding down through her waiting slipperiness. She stroked the heatedly pulsating shaft two or three times as Nino's hot lips, still tasting of the secret places of her own body, came down on hers. Then she directed it toward her hungrily awaiting vagina. The handsome young Italian lowered his body a bit more, and his massively heated shaft scraped her pubic hair.

Elaine pushed down on it and felt an indescribable jolt of pleasure shoot through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, searing head touched the still sensitive, still-flooded lips of her wetly throbbing pussy. She used the head of the penis to draw little circles of ecstasy around and around her cuntal lips; she moved it up and down, feeling it push deliciously, and hotly, against her once again erect clitoris. She even pushed it down, downward until it came into contact with her brown puckered anal ring. She didn't leave it there for more than a split second; there was something forbidden about that pleasure, and she could not let her mind dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it rapidly up and down her moistened fur-lined slit, feeling almost as if she were masturbating.

Nino was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his cock – sometimes rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly, questioningly, as though she had never been asked to put a man's penis into her vagina before and didn't know what to do. Once, he was almost positive she hinted that he should push it in her rectum, but that impression had been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. Anyway, he thought, if the cock isn't in your asshole shortly, baby, you can bet that I'll have at least two fingers pushed in there trigging the hell out of you! She continued to stroke him and it was so pleasurable that the young man decided to put an end to it before she used up some of his strength. "Put it in, now," he demanded.

Elaine sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the lust-bloated, throbbing shaft at the opening to her vagina. Although she wanted him to go deep and hard, perversely she heard her own voice saying softly, "Do it to me slow… and gentle… make it last forever…"

Because he wanted it to be perfect for her – this first time, at least – the boy curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle.

Elaine felt the head of his penis pressing in at her vaginal opening. Reluctantly, her fingers left the thick trunk of the wonderfully warm instrument. The pressure at her cuntal lips continued for a moment, and gradually increased in strength until, with a slight sucking noise, his massively heated cock-head moved inside her. "Ummmmmm," she crooned, "that's beautiful."

He felt the wonderful velvety warmness of her tight little pussy enclose the head of his hotly throbbing cock. It was much tighter than he had suspected, even though his tongue had just moments before scoured out the region. Her husband must not have used this very often, he thought, then quit thinking as he let sensations take command of his nerve centers and body control. The blonde had begun a twitching motion with her eager young pussy lips. She wasn't doing it on purpose; it just seemed to be natural instinct.

Elaine, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feet planted on the couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained only the feel of his heatedly pulsating instrument stuck about an inch into her vagina, she began to long for more depth, for friction, for movement, for… for… She put it into words, "Fuck me…" Using her feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips tentatively from the couch and discovered that the movement caused his long hard penis to slide in another inch or two. "Ohhhh, God," she chanted, "… so… wonder… fullll." She dropped her hips and his male hardness slid out until only the head remained buried between the clasping coral lips of her cunt. She raised and the cock moved in further, fell back and felt it partially withdraw.

Amused, the Italian youth grinned down at these first little movements which betrayed her intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself for his earlier stupid uncertainty over whether she had any energy left or not. Christ, he thought, she's got enough fuel left in that hot little pussy to put us both into orbit. She pushed up her loins again, moaning this time in frustration, and he decided it was time to end the game. Slowly… very slowly… he pushed his impatiently swollen cock inward. It slipped easily through her inner cuntal muscles, down through the soft, torrid, dripping walls of her vaginal cavity, and pushed against the muscles of her uterine opening.

The young blonde's eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture of the slow entry. She had never believed that a penis's first thrust could be so heavenly, but then, of course, she had never been so aroused, so lubricated before, either. Down… down… down… into her it went. She exalted with each new virginal territory invaded. Finally, after what seemed to be an endless eternity, Nino was in his full length. She could feel the bristliness of the short hair on his softly swaying testicles tickling her wildly puckering little anus. She could feel the cock-head buried deep inside of her, throbbing imperiously against her cervix… could feel every fleshy, muscular little ridge of his penis pressing against her vaginal walls. And over it all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and happiness.

Now Nino began to withdraw almost reluctantly, then thrust inward slowly again. He was moving in and out of her with his eyes closed in deep appreciation. God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt that seemed so perfect for his own cock. She was milking him with her uterine and vaginal muscles. There was one set of muscles that worked on the head of his cock, squeezing it then releasing it, squeezing, releasing, until he thought he would go out of his mind. Another set of muscles, somewhere in the area just below the inner lips of her vagina, were moving sideways back and forth against the sensitive underpart of his trunk… all of this going on at the same time she was rising to meet each of his thrusts.

Elaine realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken over her body… and that was fine, because she was able to concentrate on feeling… pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt muscles working, hips rotating against cock, felt her fingers kneading Nino's powerful shoulder muscles… felt all this, but did not will any of it to happen. Her lushly sensual body was alive and on fire with sure independent motion… her brain could relax and let the incredibly wonderful sensations roll over it. Time simply dissolved into nothingness. She didn't know how long these maddeningly beautiful slow, gentle strokes had been plowing into her, but gradually she began to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, and put her request into words, "Fuck me harder, Nino… fuck harder."

That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous – this screwing in slow motion, but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost making him cum through use of her deeper vaginal muscles, and he really hadn't had a chance to get in a little energetic fucking yet. "Okay baby. You want it harder, you'll get it harder."

Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted them until her knees were pressed tightly against her naked young chest. Elaine's eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence; she had no way of knowing that this one particular position would add at least two inches to his thrusts into the heart of her womb. She felt a momentary twinge of embarrassment at the fact that her vagina was in midair, helpless – defenseless – but that impression faded instantly when Nino grunted, "Here it comes, baby." He pulled his heated thick shaft out until only the head remained locked between the moistly clasping cuntal lips, then slammed down, down, down – burrowing far deeper up into her femaledom than anyone or anything had ever been before.

"Aaaaaagggggh," she screamed in sheer exhalation. His long rampaging prick slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this into the heated lonely void of her uterus. God, he was in so deep that it seemed his throbbing cudgel was lodged midway between navel and breasts. There was almost seven inches of hard hot-cock inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second heart. Her tight little vagina felt stretched beyond repairs crammed well beyond its limited capacity. And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her deeper inner muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped and twitched against the glands, another rubbed continuously against the corona. And she thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight.

Now, clamping his hot, wet mouth over her's, he began a slow fucking motion between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new and previously unexplored depths of her pussy. The head of his cock soon was master of it all, and with each jerking throb, it was a little cannon making tiny explosions which seared the softly sensitive flesh. His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant passage, and every stroke brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her throat.

Nino, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into her with a fury he did not realize existed; his hipbones crashed into the back of her thighs with each stroke and his testicles hit the trembling walls of her upraised buttocks like a battering ram. He wanted to hear her cry "Uncle". He wanted her to know that she had been fucked as she never had been before… and, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was accomplishing these things, and the real reason for doing all this was not revenge, not egotism, but the desire to bring pleasure to her so she would want him to fuck her again and again and again in the future.

In the closet, an excited Carlo increased the speed of his rhythmic stroking on his throbbing cock as he watched the masterful bludgeoning of the blonde's wetly glistening pussy. He felt envious that Nino – and not he – was fucking this beautiful rich cunt. His aching balls demanded release and he didn't know how much more of this he could take. Closing his eyes, Carlo fought the wave of paroxysm that flooded his senses. Suddenly, his eagerly pulsating cock gave an errant jerk and the searing load of jism that had been boiling for so long in his bulging balls erupted, spewing out and around his still clenched and stroking fingers. Again… then again… hot, white cum erupted and gushed forth, splashing against the wall and spilling onto the trousers of the expensive silk suit he had put on with such meticulous care that morning. Finally, one last little spurt plopped from the penis's swollen hole and dribbled onto the suit. He sat motionless for several moments, savoring the remnants of his release. As his breathing returned to normal, he opened his eyes and saw the pools of sticky cum on his suit. He swore under his breath – then looking to Elaine's wildly bucking body on the couch – he swore again. He would fix that little bitch… he would fix her good! Taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he dabbed at his trousers and wiped his hands while his mind raced, thinking of possibilities. Moments later he smiled, pleased with his ingenuity. His gaze was still focused on the fucking couple, but as he watched the heaving forms grunting toward their climaxes, he really didn't see them – his brain was far too busy, scheming and planning.

On the couch, Elaine had long since stopped thinking about what was being done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of enjoyment, new sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the other. She found by clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring her clitoris into continual contact with that long hard rod driving in and out of her being. She had surrendered totally to this man lying between her open legs, and she unashamedly worshipped that hot part of him that skewered so wetly, so powerfully into her.

Her body was beginning to twist and writhe now, and her sounds became one long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth, shoving her tongue deep into his throat. She was animal, she knew she was an animal, and she loved being one. She was also servile, accepting anything done to her, relishing the taint of masochism in her soul, wanting more… more… more than she was getting. She was the portrait of pure wantonness: face wrung with passion, nostrils flaring like some wild mare being mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as cable, eyes hot and vacant with lust.

As if sensing the blonde divorcee's need for another new experience, Nino released her knees from her chest; she immediately wrapped her legs around his naked buttocks and used her calves to drive him deeper. The youth slipped his hands down over the naked flaring of her hips and slid them beneath the warm moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks. He cupped them harshly with each hand and began kneading them like bread dough as he thrust his thick heated shaft in with a greater frenzy.

Elaine subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles as his fingers dug deeply into the white, supple flesh of her ass. He jerked her harder up to his cock, and she spread her thighs even further, inviting him to do what he willed, as she opened the moistly hot hole of her cunt in obscene welcome. He pounded into her with a fury, then – without warning – changed technique again and began making smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her tightly clasping vagina before plunging forward again into her uplifted loins. It was then she felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on her ass and begin moving into the crevice of her buttocks itself. She felt his outstretched middle finger tentatively search, then find, her unprotected and completely defenseless, puckered little hole.

He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield reluctantly. "Ohhhhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her buttocks in an effort to get away, the motion was hopeless, though, for his long hard cock had her skewered like a helpless pig on a spit. The groan bubbled from her lips in pained protest as his finger continued its unnatural invasion of her rectum. "Eeeeeeeaaahhh, don't… Nino." He thrust even harder, and now she saw the cruel smirk on his handsome face as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of subjugation.

"Ouuuuuugggh," she cried, as her tiny exposed anus received another thrust.

Nino, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the warm rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the quivering muscles in there which gave lie to her protests. She didn't know yet, but her body was really enjoying the almost brutal fucking he was subjecting her to. Soon she would be begging. He began working his finger around inside, stretching the puckered little anal ring ever wider and wider as his penis continued pounding mercilessly into her wide-stretched vagina.

Elaine felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage, then it, too, was inside – working in unison with the first finger… in rhythm with his pistoning prick. The deep guttural protests coming from her chest began gradually changing from whimpers of pain to low moans of new increased pleasure as her rectum became used to this strange invasion.

Within seconds she was shamelessly skewering her anus back onto his fingers as the Italian boy probed methodically around in the warm, rubbery depth. New sensations of delight rippled through the young blonde's abdomen and up her spine. She knew she was hopelessly impaled and helpless between the hard driving rod of flesh buried deep in her womb and those cruel, merciless… wonderful… fingers that wormed hotly in and out of her behind.

She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wantonness under this double rape of her nakedly widespread loins, when suddenly she knew she was about to cum. She fought her own body against the orgasm; she didn't want to cum… not yet. All this was too beautiful to end, to change. She tightened up all of her muscles, but that only intensified the hot vibrations that were beginning to reverberate like a gong in the heart of her belly.

Nino felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her vaginal passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. Beneath him, Elaine had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh," with each breath. The knowledge that she was about to cum caused his own excitement to build to a fever pitch; he wanted to cum with her, at the same time. There would be more later, he knew that for a fact; he felt he could cum a hundred times with her, could fuck all night, all day, all week – forever! And so, he yanked his fingers from her tight little anus and quickened the rhythm of his thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring persistently into the hidden recesses of her pussy.

The nakedly writhing girl's senses were rapidly leaving her now. There was nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her loins; she was only vaguely aware of his lips leaving her mouth to clamp hotly on her right breast, of the feel of his testicles hammering at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving down across her abdomen to bring additional titillation to her clitoris. The pressure of the impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was death. She would die from it. This was it!

"Ohhhhhhh, nooo… nooooo," she wailed, "fuck harder… I'm cumming… I'm cumming… I'm cummmiiinnng… againnnn…!"

She writhed seeking one last ecstatic thrust before the dam inside of her burst. His heatedly thick cock was a huge battering ram slamming into the portals of all her sensitivity, and the vibrations from the blows made her tingle from every follicle of her golden hair to the tip of her toes. This all had to be a dream… it was all too beautiful to be true. Then, gradually… the dam crumbled and the wave of ecstasy was upon her.

She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhhh, God! I'm… I… I'm… cum… mmmmmmm… innnnnnnggggggg." She jerked upward once with superhuman strength, then fell back, convulsing on the velour couch. Her legs beat against the softness of the cushions and her breath came in hoarse rasping gasps, as the violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and wracked her body. She felt, momentarily, that she was one gigantic vagina, cumming, that every part of her was part of it… and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the sudden knowledge that the beautiful penis that had carried her to this peak of glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm deep up into her quivering belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her juices, and they formed a pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.

Her heart was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast as a great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, her hands fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading consciousness she felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay homage to the throbbing shaft of love still buried deep, deep inside. She was fainting… perhaps even dying, she thought… then simply let go… let it all go away… and drifted, drifted into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now… I know…"

As for Nino? He stared unbelievingly down at the blonde's unconscious figure. Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but not with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch occasionally around his cock. He honestly couldn't remember when he had cum as much as he did with her. He had flooded her womb with jism, and it had poured out of him and out of her as though someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own reactions to all this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts – things he really didn't want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her… had wound up making love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude to her and that wonderful young pussy. Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his flaccid cock from between her thighs and it came out with a slight plop, and with it came a veritable river of their warmly intermingled love juices.

"Elaine," he said softly. There was no answer. Slowly, he raised himself, walked to the book-shelf unit, and pulled out the concealed bed. Gently, he picked her naked form up in his arms and carried her across the room. He placed her, still asleep, on the double-bed… then covered her naked young body to protect it from the cold.

Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down beside her, and covered himself with the same bedspread.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was still wondering about the strange effect she had had on him – wondering about the consequences of becoming emotionally involved with her…

CHAPTER NINE

Carlo leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around him with his usual practiced gaze. Inside, there were only a handful of warmly dressed tourists; outside, all of the patio tables were empty – the impending spring shower had driven all but a few stout-hearted tourists indoors. There was no money to be made today, he thought, as he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping tentatively at its hot contents. Alas, it was just as well; there was much too much to be done anyway. First there was the matter of Nino, and then he had to call Marceau and complete the arrangements for tonight… he let his thoughts drift, speculating on the satisfying possibilities it should bring…

Abruptly, his pleasurable thoughts were interrupted by a group of noisy tourists entering the cafe. "Damn," he swore under his breath, "where is that stupid, pussy-eater? He should have been here by now!" He glanced at his watch again – about the night before – and that sensuous blonde getting fucked silly…; and about the apartment – and how he had managed to sneak out after they had both fallen asleep. But, most of all, it had set him to thinking about tonight – and his plan…

It was simple, really. He knew the one thing above all others that would appeal to Nino. Not a girl. Not sex. No, it was neither of these. He would hit him where he lived – with greed, with the promise of money, wealth. And then he would take over from Nino – with that beautiful, salacious bitch… Elaine. He would teach her things Nino had never even thought of… He would make her beg for cock, and more cock, until she…

The spring shower broke without warning as Nino was hurrying along the street toward the cafe. Cursing, he hastily buttoned the jacket of his new lightweight suit and sprinted the final few yards. But the sudden rain was heavy enough to soak him even in those few minutes. When he entered the cafe, the sight of Carlo comfortably settled in one of the cafe's chairs, his long legs resting on top of another chair, did nothing to improve Nino's temper. Neither did Carlo's amused grin.

"Shit!" Nino spat out. He wrenched off his jacket and hurled it down on a vacant chair. "What a day I've had! And then I get caught in a cloudburst…" He threw himself into an adjacent chair and lit a cigarette.

"You're late," Carlo said. "You said you would be here by two o'clock. It's half-past now. And I told you that I'd be needing the apartment this evening."

The effect of Carlo's remark was explosive. It was what he had expected – and what he had wanted. Nino's face flushed a dull red and he leapt to his feet, his voice rising rapidly as the words gushed out.

"You need the apartment, huh? I suppose you think you own the place? Well, my claim is as good as yours and you know that I've got to have it tonight. I've already told Elaine we'll be going there, and if you think you can get away with this, then you're mistaken; I'll see you in hell first…"

Carlo lit himself another cigarette while Nino raved. When the torrent of words stopped for a second as Nino drew breath to continue his ranting, Carlo threw up his hands and said sharply: "Stop that and listen to me!"

His tone was commanding. In surprise, Nino stopped. "Now listen," Carlo went on when he was sure that he had the other's attention. "There's no need to get hysterical about this. I asked you to meet me so that we could discuss things sensibly."

"Who's getting hysterical?" Nino's voice was still pitched higher than it was normally, but he had slumped down into his chair again.

"It happens to be my turn to use the apartment," Carlo continued. "And for once, I'm going to take advantage of it. You've had the place plenty of times instead of me – in fact, you've been given almost a free run. But this time, I'm not fooling. I am using the apartment tonight."

A sulky pout turned down the corners of Nino's mouth. "I told you," he muttered, "that Elaine thinks we're going there tonight. How do I get out of that, tell me, eh?" He glared at Carlo, accusingly.

The answer he received was brisk and brought him out of his chair, sputteringly.

"What do you mean, Elaine and I are through?" Nino croaked, beating the table with his clenched fist. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do!"

Carlo smiled, his thin upper lip curled in contempt. He said nothing. Finally, Nino stopped beating the table, ground his teeth in impotent rage and slumped into his chair. He sat rigid for a few moments, his hands still clenched into tight fists. When he sat upright again, the expression on his face had changed. He adjusted his shirt and his tie, at the same time giving his friend a crafty look.

"Carlo, you know you only use the apartment for telephoning…" he began lamely, waiting.

Carlo's amber eyes narrowed. He leaned forward on his chair. "You're wasting your time with that bitch," he said. "You're wasting your time with a girl who had no money."

"Elaine does have money!"

Carlo leapt straight into the attack. He did not want to lose the opportunity of a lifetime – to say nothing of a form of permanent insurance against possible hard times. He knew that, with a little behind-the-scenes manipulation, Nino could swing it. After which his good friend would be set for life. And, should Carlo ever need anything, he could always remind Nino where his gratitude and generosity should point…

"You have to wake up, man!" Carlo said impatiently. "Elaine doesn't have money; she had an allowance. And it isn't all that much, either."

Warming to his subject, Carlo pressed harder. "Remember that girl I introduced you to a couple of days ago – Sue Miller? Listen. She's an heiress. An heiress, you understand? An heiress to over one million dollars. She thinks you're wonderful; she's ready to go for you in a big, big way. This is the chance of a lifetime for you – that chance you've hoped for, for so long. What more could you want?"

Nino made no reply. He drew deeply from his cigarette, his forehead creased in a set frown.

"It's all set up for you, Nino," Carlo urged. "All you have to do is dump Elaine and you're set with Sue and a million dollars." When the youth sat silent, Carlo asked weanly: "Now what's the matter? What's wrong with Sue?"

"She's a lesbian," Nino muttered.

Carlo shot a shrewd glance at Nino. "What gave you that idea? Just because Maria took her in doesn't mean she's a dyke. Christ, the poor girl was lonely. Besides, Maria is a damned good art teacher and she's been helping Sue with her technique. Ask Benito for Christ's sake! He balled her at one of Marceau's parties. He thought she was a terrific fuck…"

"She has thick legs," Nino interjected.

"Christ, man, you want a million bucks and the most beautiful legs in the world too?"

"Well…"

"Look, if it's Elaine that's bothering you, forget it. You pick her up tonight and tell her you're going to a party. When you get to Marceau's, I'll take her around and introduce her to everybody. In the meantime you grab Sue and head for one of the rooftop rooms. I'll keep Elaine busy." He winked at Nino. "After a little of Marceau's refreshments she'll never miss you. It'll be easy." He looked appraisingly at Nino. He judged the younger man had accepted the persuasion. Surpressing a cynical smile, Carlo asked in a tone of serious inquiry: "Well, what do you say, Nino? Are you going to drop Elaine or not?"

There was silence. Nino lit himself another cigarette. Finally: "It's not going to be easy," he muttered.

"Nothing could be simpler!" Carlo could smell victory. "Sue's ready and willing – any idiot can see she's panting for you! She can't wait for you to lay her. And since she has all those lovely dollars, you'd be well advised to forget those thick legs. Just get down to business."

"It's all right for you to talk…" Nino began.

"Listen," Carlo interrupted, "I've screwed a lot worse than Sue, and for a lot less incentive, too. And it hasn't killed me yet. It hasn't even bothered me."

"Nothing's really wrong with her… she's really a pretty good looking broad… it's… just…" Nino's voice trailed off. He stared beyond Carlo – beyond the door and the empty outdoor tables – beyond the street…

What the hell's the matter with him, Carlo wondered. He's plainly weak about the blonde bitch in some way or another. Love? It hardly seemed likely. But this was no time to take chances on love or weakness. Sue was the richest fish Carlo had ever caught upon his diversified hook. She was rich and she had fallen in a jelly-like romantic heap for Nino. That he knew. And one million dollars… It would seem foolish to let sentimentality over Elaine spoil such a golden opportunity. Carlo abhorred sentimentality above all things. And… he wanted Elaine for himself. For now, anyway.

Nino stared directly at him, and even before his friend spoke, Carlo knew that the million dollars had won.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice subdued. "I'll pick her up and bring her to Marceau's. The rest is up to you."

"Done, my friend." Standing up, Carlo went around the table and held out his hand. He'd known all along Nino would see sense in the end. He had been right. He had known all along that in the end – greed would win. They shook.

"See you tonight… Lots to do… phone calls… and I have to be at Marceau's early to take care of the final arrangements." He turned quickly and headed for the door.

Nino stood for a long time, staring vacantly at the street…

CHAPTER TEN

Elaine had slept, her only movement the deep, steady rise and fall of her breasts, until, mid-afternoon, she had slowly opened her eyes and lay staring, wide awake, without moving. She stayed that way for a long time, looking up at the ceiling without moving or blinking, seemingly staring inward rather than outward.

After lying still for a long time, she slowly looked around, accepting the reality of being in her hotel room. It was raining and she saw through the window that the light outside had a blue smokey hue. Her mind cleared slowly, emptying itself of sleep, as little vague thoughts of the night before darted like tiny ants across the landscape of her consciousness. As her memories came into perspective, she was rocked with the horror of what had happened… of what she had allowed to happen, without real resistance or much effort to preserve her natural dignity. She had allowed herself to be fucked silly – and by someone she hardly knew! She had actually begged to be fucked and have Nino, a virtual stranger, squirt his hot male sperm into her! It was disgusting! Yet, even now in retrospect, the memory stimulated her. There was no sense trying to fool herself, for she also knew that her life would never be whole again unless she could live through and enjoy her senses as she had with Nino. She felt more than ever aware of herself, of her body, her spirit, the pulse of her very life-blood. They had made love – yes, fucked! – like two common animals carried along by the fine high heat of their nerves and body rhythms, joining in a way she had never known was possible. She tried to fit the events of last night into the whole scheme of her life up till then. It was impossible and she felt the wave of excitement that was building within her at just the thought of what they had done – an exciting light-lingered quivering between her thighs as she remembered her seemingly endless climaxes under Nino's relentless tongue and driving loins. It was then that she decided she'd better get up before she allowed her body to become aroused again.

Languidly, the sensually naked blonde crossed the room to the closet and withdrew a long, flowing robe and slipped it on. She paused to brush her hair and saw that even the dim light made the thin fabric almost transparent, and she seemed even taller and more beautiful than usual. She decided that her sexual encounter of last night must have agreed with her for her skin was milky white, clear and sensuously soft-looking, and her cheeks were slightly rosy, even though she had just risen from bed. Bed! Last night! Nino! Just the recollection of the darkly handsome Italian boy sent a little thrill of pleasure through her, making her nipples harden and tingle. Nino! His muscled suntanned body. His animal lust. His… his penis, so hot, so hard, so wonderful! He had driven her almost mad with desire! But no, she had already decided that she was not going to think about him… for a while anyway.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Maybe it would help. She'd taken one this morning after he had brought her home, but that had been for a different reason. Her body had been covered with the dried remnants of their orgasms from last night and from the one she had reached shortly before he had brought her to the hotel room. God! I've got to stop this, she thought and stepped into the shower. She let the spray cascade down her back and over her body, gradually decreasing the amount of warm water, until, ten minutes later, she stepped out, shivering. After drying and slipping back into her robe, she padded back into the bedroom, fixed herself a cup of instant coffee, and sat down on the couch to wait for Nino's call…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was nearly dark by the time Carlo reached Marceau's mansion atop Nob Hill. Nick, the huge Nubian valet, directed Carlo to a large walnut-paneled study which was Marceau's working room.

"Ah, Carlo, my boy. It's good to see you again," Marceau greeted him from behind an enormous desk in one corner of the room. "You have done your part, I trust?"

"Marceau, you know me better than that. Have I ever let you down?" Carlo answered, striding toward the warmth of a marble fireplace which dominated the wall adjacent to Marceau's desk. "They will all be here. And you? Have you prepared the little surprise I phoned you about?"

Marceau Verner III stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully and watched Carlo carefully through half-shut lids. "My boy, you never cease to amaze me. First you give me less than a full day to prepare, and then you phone me hours before the party with some special request. And to top it off, you expect to extract from me a commission for your, eh, services." His hand slid forward several inches and tapped a plain white envelope lying in the middle of the huge desk.

Carlo eyed the man narrowly. "Ah, yes, Marceau, but it is not everyone who could bring you such beauties. Young virgins. And six of them."

Marceau sat motionless, his eyes closed, only the tip of his tongue flicking once through compressed lips, betraying whether he was asleep – or dead. After a few moments his lids fluttered open and the corners of his mouth twisted upward in a wry smile. "Ah, Carlo, forgive me. Growing cynical is the leprosy of advancing age. Forgive me, please," he said, rising. "A brandy?"

"Yes," was all Carlo replied as he watched Marceau limp slowly to the well-stocked bookcase bar. His gout must be getting worse, Carlo mused. It was a shame really. He wasn't that old. If it gets much worse I'm liable to lose a customer, he thought, walking quickly to meet him and take the offered drink.

"To our success," Marceau said, raising his glass in toast. They both sipped, then, Marceau lowering his glass continued: "I have taken the liberty of having Meg set a place for at the dinner table. It is not well for one to work on an empty stomach. No? And then we shall tour the ballroom and the top floor. You agree?"

"Umm," Carlo answered, lowering the glass from his lips. It really was good brandy. Expensive. Marceau did have good taste. Well in most things. "Yes. That would be great," Carlo answered. It wasn't often he was treated to fine brandy and an exquisite dinner. Only once before had Marceau invited him to dine.

***

When dinner was finished, both Carlo and Marceau sat quietly, contemplating. It had come to Carlo during dinner that Marceau was the only man he had met whom he admired. Now, as he sat, sipping an after dinner cordial, he wondered if it was really the man he admired or his ways; his aristocratic grace, his wealth, his passion for getting what he wanted. Somehow, Carlo knew, that he too would someday acquire all of these.

"My boy," Marceau began, interrupting Carlo's musings, "We had better be off. The guests will be arriving soon, and there are still some details that must be taken care of. Come, I will show you to the elevator. As you know, I have made many changes since you were here last. Meg is already upstairs and she will show you around."

As they walked to the elevator, they passed the grand ballroom. The room blazed with light from three huge chandeliers. Three waiters arranged a buffet on tables set up at the far end of the room, while on a dais opposite the buffet, a five-man ensemble was tuning up. The thought crossed Carlo's mind that Marceau was indeed a careful man. Should any uninvited or unwanted guests drop in, the respectable party with its legitimate guests should provide a perfect cover.

When they reached the elevator, Carlo noticed there was now a second one next to the one Carlo had always used before. Marceau took a key from his pocket and placed it in a lock where the call button usually was. He turned it and the doors opened. Removing the key, he handed it to Carlo; then stepped aside to let him enter.

"All you have to do is press the up button," he said. "There are no stops between the foyer and the top floor. You do the same in reverse when you come down."

Carlo nodded, then smiled. He pushed the button and the doors hissed closed.

Meg was waiting for Carlo as the elevator doors opened. She was in her late twenties, tall, slim, and brown-eyed, with darkly burnished auburn hair tied neatly with a black ribbon behind her head; she was wearing a simple, expensive dress in basic black with one unobtrusive gold pin on her shoulder.

Carlo smiled at her and she returned the smile. "Let me show you around," she said.

She turned and he noticed she had a good ass, fine legs, and slim ankles. He followed her around the circular corridor. Everything was white, highlighted only by paintings; paintings in gilded frames mounted on red velvet; paintings of nude men and women depicting various forms of copulation.

Meg caught his gaze. "All the paintings are from Mr. Verner's private collection." She stopped at the only door on the right and opened it, letting him walk in ahead of her. He stood there for a moment. It was almost unbelievable. The entire circular room was actually a small amphitheater; half of the room was a slightly sunken stage, the other half consisted of private booths facing it. An elaborate fountain, fashioned entirely of colored glass, played in the center of the otherwise bare stage. Opposite were five booths; two accommodating eight, and the center booth accommodating perhaps a dozen. They were designed so that from within, only the stage could be seen.

Carlo walked to one of the end booths and looked inside. On the back wall, behind the cushioned, horseshoe-shaped seat, was a built-in bar. It was well stocked and ready for action, including several bottles of champagne chilling in ice buckets. On the veneered table was a silver tureen resting on an ornate warming rack. There were also cigarette boxes, a humidor, matches, and ashtrays. "As usual, Marceau has seen to everything," Carlo mused to himself. He turned and nodded to Meg. Just before they reached the door he noticed a recessed alcove on one side of the stage. He stopped, and the brunette, following his gaze, replied, "Dressing rooms." Carlo glanced at her briefly and then followed her back into the corridor.

They continued around the circular corridor with its miracle of nude paintings, and by the time they had reached the elevator again, Carlo was curious. He had counted nine doors leading off the corridor – all on the left side. Six of them were of different colors, three white. The first had been painted blue, the second green. Then there had been a white one, then violet red and another white. Meg noticing his puzzled expression, opened the white door. He stepped inside and found himself in a dimly lit, narrow hallway. He walked perhaps fifteen feet and came to a dead end.

Puzzled, he turned just as Meg flipped a hidden switch by the door and suddenly both sides of the blank walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, and he was looking into empty bedrooms on either side. Immediately he realized that Marceau had designed a voyeur's delight – a double delight! Meg beckoned to him and he retraced his steps to the door. She flipped the hidden switch again and the walls were once again bare. She closed the door silently and walked back a few feet to the yellow door. Once again she opened the door and let him enter first. He was in one of the bedrooms he had just seen from the hallway. Meg turned a dial and the triangular room gradually lit up. It looked like a stage setting; with only one exception, the entire room was done in contrasting yellow's; rug, ceiling, and a giant round bed almost in the center of the room. The exception being the walls; they were mirrors, floor to ceiling.

Carlo looked at Meg. "No outside windows?"

Meg walked to the bed and pressed the first of a series of buttons on a small night table. There was a low humming sound as the ceiling rolled back and through the now glassed ceiling a few evening stars twinkled between scattered clouds. She pushed another button and a cool wave of fresh air invaded the room.

Before the Italian guide could catch his breath, she pushed yet another button and the giant bed began to slowly rotate; then another and television sets appeared from each of the three mirrored walls. He watched breathlessly as each of the sets came on, each showing the same identical scene – a room just like the one he was in. The only difference was that each room was a different color – blue, green, and violet.

Now she pushed another button and all three sets changed; blue changed to red, green to orange, and violet to yellow – and smack in the middle of the set showing the yellow room, stood Carlo, wearing an incredulous grin. Abruptly, the sound of rainfall reached his ears, then the sound of muted, sensual music. Suddenly, he realized the girl had touched more buttons. He walked to the bed just as she pushed the first seven buttons in reverse order and in moments the room was restored to its original state.

He was shaking his head as he followed Meg to the door and back to the elevator. Well, Marceau had certainly done his part, he thought, the rest would be up to him. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. It would be like a performer juggling a half-dozen eggs. If he dropped one they were all going to wind up scrambled.

Mentally he began to go over the plan in his mind, ticking off the details in sequence. He had staggered the times he had told everybody to be there. First arriving would be Benito and Hannah, followed shortly by Sue and Maria, the Count and his guest, the six young girls, and finally Nino and Elaine. He had asked Benito first because he needed help – he had to get Sue separated from Maria. While he kept the heiress with him, Hannah and Benito would take care of Maria. When the Count and his friend arrived he would have Benito introduce them to Maria. Then a taxicab driver friend would deliver the six girls, and he would have Benito take them up to the Count and Marceau. They were their worry after that – he had just promised to deliver them. Finally when Nino and Elaine arrived he would have Nino attend to the door. While he was introducing Elaine to everyone, Nino would slip away with Sue. From there on he was on his own. The elevator stopped with a slight bump. He stepped out just as Marceau entered the foyer from the direction of the ballroom.

"Ah! Carlo, everything is in order?" he asked.

"Great. As usual, you have exceeded yourself."

"Thank you," Marceau smiled. "And now, my boy, we should take up our stations. It will not be long before our guests begin to arrive. As arranged I will greet the guests who are destined for the ballroom and you will take care of the ones for upstairs. Ah, by the way," he said, grinning, "I have talked to Trembles about the little surprise you requested and the matter is arranged. Oh, yes, one more thing." He reached in his pocket and produced a plain white envelope. "Here, I think you will find this adequate," he said, smiling.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Carlo breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator rushed them to the top floor. Everything so far had gone according to plan. Moments before, he had left Nino and Sue stationed in the foyer, awaiting guests who would arrive, and now he was taking Elaine upstairs to introduce her to Marceau. She had swallowed the lie easily enough, expecting Nino to join them before long. He let his gaze travel over her lush young body and chuckled to himself, knowing that before she became suspicious he would have her under his influence – thanks to Marceau's special mixture.

Elaine caught the movement in Carlo's eyes as they traveled over her figure, pausing slightly at her ample breasts, flat stomach, and flared hips. She had remembered him immediately when they had met downstairs. He had been the one with Nino in the cafe… He was as good looking as Nino, she thought – the same finely boned features, the same muscular body. She was glad now that she had worn the green dress – knowing that it perfectly accentuated her ripe figure in just the right places.

Abruptly, the elevator bumped to a stop. As the doors hissed open Elaine heard the muted strains of rock music and felt his gentle touch on her arm as he led her toward it.

As they entered the room, Carlo noticed that the room had undergone a transformation since he had been up there. Now, the only illumination in the circular room came from psychedelic lighting above the sunken stage. He noticed that two of the young girls were dancing with the Count and his friend as he led Elaine toward Marceau's alcove table.

Elaine squinted as her eyes attempted to adjust to the room's darkness. She knew there were dancers on the stage, but in the flickering light it was difficult to distinguish their features.

Carlo stopped abruptly at a table from which copious giggling was issuing. "Elaine, I would like you to meet Marceau Verner, our gracious host. Marceau, this is Elaine Craig."

"Charmed, my dear," Marceau answered, disentangling his arm from the giggle and rising.

"Mr. Verner…" Elaine replied, nodding her head slightly toward him and smiling.

"Please… call me Marceau…" He hesitated, wondering. Could it be? But, no, it was too much of a coincidence… He looked beyond her to the figures on the stage. Still…? "If there is anything you wish," he finally said, breaking the short silence, "please feel free to ask. The show should be starting very soon now… I hope you will enjoy it."

"Thank you, very much," Elaine said, a puzzled look crossing her lovely face. She thought it strange that neither of the men had bothered to introduce her to the woman in the booth. Her eyes had become more accustomed to the dim light and she bent forward, straining to see into the back of the booth… God!

She was only a girl! Not more than 15 or 16. The girl with flaming red hair stared back, then grinned, and finally giggle Elaine was about to speak, but just then the lights dimmed even more and the music stopped.

"Come," Carlo said, pressing Elaine's hand. "The show is about to start. We'd better get to our table."

"See you later, Marceau," he called over his shoulder as they picked their way across the darkened room.

"A drink?" Carlo asked after they were seated.

"Thank you," Elaine answered. "I could use something!"

"How about some of Marceau's famous hot buttered rum?" he said, indicating the tureen resting in its warmer on the table.

"Yes, that would be fine," Elaine replied. Although the rain had stopped, it had been cool outside and she still felt a little chilled. Maybe the hot rum would warm her.

Carlo filled two glass cups from the tureen, handed her one, then raising the other, said, "To your health."

Elaine nodded in response, then sipped the warm liquid. What an unusual taste, she thought. But it's good. Very good! She sipped again.

They sat silently for several minutes, drinking, lost in their own thoughts. They lit cigarettes from the box on the table, then, Carlo noticing that her cup was almost empty, refilled it. His own cup was nearly untouched. He grinned. Not only was she drinking the hot rum – literally laced with hashish tea and Brazilian Bola an exotic aphrodisiac – but he had just fit a cigarette for her filled with just enough powdered hashish to keep her from coughing, yet strong enough so that just one had the potency of a whole joint of first-class marijuana.

Suddenly, from the direction of the stage, the pulsating beat of a single conga drum began. Gradually, a single orange spot of light began to illuminate one side of the stage. Elaine was mesmerized as the majestic figure of Marceau's Negro valet, Nick, gradually appeared in the soft illumination. He was seated, cross-legged, on the far side of the sunken stage, clasping the African conga drum he played between his bare legs, wearing only a lion-skin loin cloth, his naked arm and chest muscles glistening in the warm orange illumination. Elaine scarcely dared to breathe as she watched the light begin to pulse in rhythm to the enormous Negro's beat, flickering eerily off of his naked ebony skin with each throb.

The vibrant scene seemed to be having almost an hypnotic effect on her. She was beginning to feel light, airy, and her temples pulsed with the thumping beat coming from the drum.

Carlo watched her closely. God, he thought, she's really taking off, floating into another world. She's really feeling the hashish. And before long she'll be in the grip of the Bola. He knew its effects, he had seen them before. And, by God, he was going to see them again.

As Elaine continued to watch the Negro, the hashish began to take complete control of her nervous system… She began to experience a humming, vibrant feeling, rising slowly from her toes, crawling steadily toward her skull. Never in her life had she felt so completely relaxed… secure… unafraid. It was good to be with a friend, a handsome young man, someone who would confidently guide her through the evening… To express her appreciation of him, she leaned closer and was pleased when he smiled, squeezing her shoulder lightly and nodding toward the stage. She had been so distracted by Carlo's presence and the effects of the drink and the hashish, that she had neglected to notice the appearance of a young girl on the stage.

Sharon, the slender blonde that Carlo had delivered to Marceau, was sitting on the end of a bid in the center of the stage, her hands folded, slating blankly off toward the audience. Her lithe figure was illuminated by a steady beam of light in much the same manner as was the Negro drummer. Suddenly the tempo of the drum increased, and everyone – including Elaine – watched intently as the slender blonde bent dawn and grasped the hem of the filmy yellow gown she was wearing. Rising, she slowly slipped the gown upwards, exposing her slim white legs and then the slender, boyish thighs.

Elaine could hear eager sounds of delight from the males in the audience as the gown staked its way over the girl's head and her graceful but not full-developed torso emerged. Her little budding breasts burst into view and, in the stage light, her small, quivering nipples appeared like tiny pencil erasers. Raising her alms up over her head, she pulled her waist-length, sandy-colored hair up, then released it to cascade like shimmering gold over her sensuous slender shoulders. Then, stretching languidly, she turned to face the Negro drummer and gave him a wanton smile. She was completely naked now, her slender alluring nudity presented for everyone to appreciate.

Elaine shifted anxiously next to Carlo. A faint glimmering of understanding came over her, and she could not help but watch with fascination and wonder.

Relaxing, Elaine leaned back against the cushion and found Carlo's arm waiting there. She was quite happy and Carlo's arm was reassuringly solid and muscular… so surely it could not hurt anything to sit back and enjoy herself.

Her attention was drawn back to the stage when the drum beat suddenly changed tempo. It was other-worldly, yet had a soul-stirring rhythm that touched the very core of her being. She saw that the slender fourteen year-old girl was holding a small bottle full of an amber liquid. She unscrewed the bottle cap and poured a small amount of the substance on her fingertips. For some reason the act provoked a murmur from some of the other booths, but it was not the kind of murmur that Elaine recognized. Instead, it sounded more like a chorused groan of animal ecstasy, of fevered expectancy. The pretty teenager reached out her smeared fingertips and massaged her breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the soft nipples to sudden throbbing hardness. Then – spreading her legs – she exposed the thin pink slit of her vagina nestling secretly in the soft light-brown pubic hair up between her thighs. Pouring out more of the glistening liquid on the ends of her fingers, she lewdly parted the hair-lined lips surrounding the tight vaginal passage, applying the substance, dabbing it on the tiny exposed clitoris and along the inner ridges of the fragile pink orifice. Setting the bottle aside, she walked to the bed and stretched out on her back. Slowly she began caressing her own ripely budding body, working herself toward a burning passion as her lithe little buttocks twisted against the black satin covered bed as though she were trying to bury herself in it. Her eyes were glazed with desire, and the whiteness of her naked flesh began to turn a rosy blushing color.

Elaine's mind was pirouetting madly, trying to sort out her own feelings from what the girl's must be. She flushed slightly with guilt as she felt a fleeting desire to be where the cute, naked teen-ager was, experiencing the same thing. Squirming her buttocks nervously, the young divorcee felt the edge of the booth cushion come into tingling contact with the soft swelling of her cuntal lips, a contact that was intensified by the nylon panties and smooth dress she was wearing. She tried to sit straight and stop her squirming, but she was powerless to stop herself, though, and ground down with greater force against the cushion rim as her breath quickened. The musky odor of Carlo's male body filled her nostrils, stimulating her even more. It was a rich, earthy odor that made her want to snuggle closer and drown in the excitement of the forbidden naughtiness rippling through her. Without thinking, she moved nearer, and made no protest when his hand came to rest tenderly but firmly on her right breast. Perhaps this very excitement was what she had been afraid of all along, she thought, casting a furtive sidelong glance at Nino's friend.

Catching her eye, Carlo leaned close and whispered, "The liquid is called Bola and comes from the jungles of Brazil. Marceau visited there and learned its use as a stimulant from the natives." As proof of the aphrodisiac's power the 14 year-old naked girl on the bed writhed more lasciviously now, as though she were being attacked by some unseen beast. The heat and excitement in the room was beginning to arouse Elaine against her will. She knew now that she was not the same girl she had been when she had entered the room. She pressed down against the cushion again, until the doubled hem of her short dress was bunched up and pressing into the crevice of her buttocks. Meanwhile, Carlo had tightened his hold on her breast, clenching and unclenching its firm full roundness with a rhythm that matched the erotic writhing of the girl on the stage. The young divorcee could feel the wetness slowly, but inexorably, spreading between her thighs, and she moved forward a few inches to gain more solid contact with the cushion. This was unheard of, a kind of sin, but she found it impossible to still the driving urge in her limbs.

She looked at the stage again after what seemed a long time but was in reality only a moment or two. Without realizing it the pungent hashish had distorted her sense of time, and she was surprised when she saw the golden-haired girl begin to run both of her own hands over her body, her fingertips dancing exploratively over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest, together, at the "vee" of her soft, hair-covered young loins. The drug-crazed little girl groaned at the thrilling contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her legs up like two gloriously carved creamy columns above the black satin spread, and then, with a deep sigh let them fall gaping wide on either side of the bed. Her fingers crawled on her nipples and pinched them roughly, making the sensitive flesh shiver and contract in their erectness. It was clearly evident that the aphrodisiac was having the desired effect on the child.

Elaine wriggled uncomfortably in her seat when she saw the girl slowly tease her middle finger into the glistening pink slit of her vagina and begin stroking the swollen bud-like clitoris with her thumb. Carlo's hand clutched Elaine's breast more firmly, and she heard and felt his breathing becoming heavier. Just then, she saw the girl begin to finger-fuck her finger in and out smoothly between the Bola-agitated cuntal walls, joining the middle finger with two more and pushing all three into the hungry pink folds. They disappeared and emerged again and again with a moist sucking noise, causing the girl to sigh and moan with pleasure.

Elaine's body stiffened momentarily as she watched this lewd indignity, and only Carlo's firm grasp on her trembling, aroused breast kept her from leaning forward to hang on the edge of her seat with real concern for the blonde teen-ager.

But the naked little girl on the bed was now hopelessly possessed and worked her mouth eagerly in rhythm with the drum. Her eyes and teeth were clenched tightly shut as she shamelessly writhed her open vagina beneath her driving fingers in an ever increasing frenzy of passion. It was almost more than Elaine could stand witnessing this obscene act right before her very eyes, someone should make the teen-ager stop – do something to help her. Yet the aroused divorcee shuddered and chilled from a sexual acceleration that watching something forbidden gives, and she remained silent.

Elaine hardly noticed or cared when Carlo skillfully unbuttoned the top of her dress and slipped his sweating palm inside her brassiere to cup and hold her warm naked breast.

Now, starting to lose all control herself, Elaine's heart was pounding savagely in her chest; she was certain that her companion must feel it thrashing under his strong hand. He rubbed his fingers lightly over the nipples, stopping to pinch them to pebble-hardness and causing a ripple of delicious sensation to flow through her each time he did. Her breath was steadily quickening, coming in tight gasps as the burning sensation in the hollow pit of her trim young belly grew in maddening intensity. She was beginning to perspire in her arousal, and she could feel a trickle of sweat running from her navel down her stomach into the sparsely haired pubic triangle at the base of her belly. Its slow, teasing trail caused her to squirm and push forward her sex-flushed breasts more firmly into Carlo's hand. Another trickle ran down the valley back between her buttocks, falling onto the tight pink flesh of her anus. Her nerves were thoroughly frayed and her drug-heavy mind throbbed like a bellows behind her eyes. She knew she was in trouble, her own doing, and should not allow Carlo to squeeze and knead her breasts this way. After all, he was an utter stranger. But still, she wanted to avoid being called a square, an innocent child… and besides, a little petting could not hurt anything so long as it came to a halt before real trouble started.

She was thinking of the seeping wetness between her thighs when her eyes strayed back to the stage and the obscenely swaying body of the 14 year-old girl. Small trails of sweat were building and running down the slender blonde's body, glistening in the spotlights and reminding Elaine of her own heated body. A sense of identification with the girl was stronger than ever, sending stronger and stronger ripples of sexual need through her own trembling limbs. She could feel Carlo becoming increasingly excited – and was certain that he could feel the frequent grinding of her vagina down against the cushion. Embarrassed, she made an effort to appear that she was merely changing position, but it was becoming nearly impossible to conceal the fact that she was just as stirred up as he was by their contact and the obscene spectacle before them.

Carlo was fondling her large breasts more enthusiastically now, pinching her bud-like nipples harder until they throbbed higher in guilty pleasure. A wash of shame came over her when she realized that she was truly jealous of the girl on stage; she yearned to have something or someone in her own moist passage, yet she knew that this was only a temporary, unrealistic desire spurred by the unusual events taking place. Her good sense and the strict upbringing she had had would never allow her to take on a strange man, in a strange place, in these strange circumstances at a weird party in a strange city. It was absolutely unthinkable. And yet? God, she was not certain! The delicious intoxication she felt, the scene on stage, Carlo's caresses, plus the basic drives of her own healthy body… all were taking their toll on her ability to ward off whatever might confront her.

She was losing her mind!

Suddenly there was an anguished cry from the girl on the bed. She was twisting her head from side to side wildly, her long blonde hair sweeping the black satin spread. She was experiencing the first blinding throes of searing orgasm and fucked back greedily against her fingers like a she-demon gone berserk.

Elaine stared in fascination as the young girl began to thrash and buck wildly from side to side, up and down, signifying the cataclysmic upheaval exploding deep in her young belly. As her hand flopped uselessly onto the bed, her firm little buttocks glistened in the warm light, displaying the soaked curls of her pubic hair and the fragile pink flesh of her pussy as she pitched backward on the bed and lay struggling for breath. One final thump boomed from the drum and then it, too, became still. In a last act of depravity, the black drummer walked to the bed and swiped his long fingers over the little blonde's oozing cuntal flanges, gathering some of the love juice on the ends of his dark fingers. Leaning forward, he seized the panting girl by her hair and drew back her head to wipe the sticky liquid on her open, trembling lips.

A murmur rose from the booths as the stage lighting gradually receded… the rock music started again, and Elaine watched as several couples walked by their booth headed toward the corridor.

"Come with me," Carlo said softly, rising as he took her hand to leave. "I'd like to show you something."

"I could use some fresh air," she said, allowing herself to be led out of the room into the cool, refreshing air of the corridor.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As shocked and excited as Elaine had been at the lewd display of wanton lust in the amphitheater, now the cool air of the corridor heightened her senses and made her want to cling to Carlo. He was really a true friend, she thought to herself, and certainly she could not blame him for having become aroused and touching her during the strange lewd performance. After all, she had herself – more than she cared to remember. In fact, to be perfectly honest, the fires of passion were still smoldering inside her, and she could feel the warm moisture down between her thighs where it flowed from her wetly excited pussy. Just walking and the resultant rubbing together of her vaginal lips was heightening the embers of desire and sending sharp tingling waves of building pleasure spreading out in all directions from her clitoris. Even the light shiftings of her dress across her breast as she walked were sparking her already painfully hard nipples to greater heights of sensation.

Carlo was leading her along the corridor and when he came to the first painting, he stopped. Elaine was flabbergasted as she stepped forward to see the art exhibit. Nearly the entire wall was covered with the lewdest sexual acts imaginable! It was a huge orgy scene, done so realistically that the tangled mass of bodies and limbs seemed to be alive. There must have been nearly a hundred figures in it, some in pairs, others in groups of three or four, and even five. Elaine was so shocked by the orgy scene that she failed to protest when Carlo led her across the corridor and into a room. She was even more surprised when she stepped through the door and saw the entirely mirrored room with its blue rug and huge, round, blue bed.

Suddenly, Elaine gripped Carlo's shoulder for support as tide after tide of strong, mind-reeling desire rose in her, dizzying and confusing her. Surely it could not still be the effects of having watched the wanton performance, she thought, casting about frantically for an explanation of the erotic feelings inflaming her entire body. Even at this moment she could not remember the young girl's face or much of anything else. Only the thought of finding some sort of relief for the inferno inside her… one that had come out of nowhere… occupied her mind.

"How do you feel now?" Carlo asked tentatively.

"I feel… sort of funny… strange," she muttered.

"Yes, I know," he said and smiled mysteriously, staring into the gorgeous blonde's glassy eyes with leering impertinence. She did not understand the meaning implied by the expression on his face and could only concentrate on the fire now raging out of control in her loins, making her breasts tingle, her flat white stomach contract, her breath rise and fall heavily.

"Are you ready?" he asked harshly, still staring at her, the lights in his eyes almost blinding her with their piercing brightness.

"Ready for what?"

"Listen, Elaine, don't fool yourself. I know what you're feeling now," he growled, suddenly changing from the gentle, understanding man she had known earlier into a snarling, gruff stranger Title the manner of a wounded bear. She suddenly began to suspect his meaning and a feeling of complete helplessness came over her… There must have been something in the rum drink… That was it…! That was what had made her feel so… so strange… It wasn't just the intoxication from the rum… It was something else… Oh… my God… it must have been that… that Bola stuff the young girl had used on the stage… Oh… no… no!!! She clenched her thighs together automatically as the memory of the young girl's wanton writhing flickered momentarily through her mind. But the pressure placed on her clitoris by the tightly-squeezed lips of her pussy only stimulated her more and she could not resist the urge to squirm restlessly.

"That's right… You've got it, baby," the Italian guide said, confirming what she realized just then. The flash of understanding that crossed her face was easy to interpret.

"Oh Carlo, Carlo, how could you!" she wailed, half-heartedly attempting to invest her tone with a note of accusation. But her own voice betrayed her and seemed to come from far away, a shaky weak sound that was not at all what she had intended. Her brain was a swamp of vagueness and lassitude, and only the sweet burning palpitations in her breasts and loins were important now. She knew she had been tricked and cruelly taken advantage of, but still nothing mattered at that moment but the sexual stirrings that were inexorably taking over her mind and body.

She could not even bring herself to object when Carlo walked over to her and, with insulting calmness, began to undo the buttons on her dress. What was worse, she really wanted him to – she wanted to be naked and have her lust-crazed body kissed and caressed until the unwanted fires were mercifully quelled.

She gazed at the handsome young man, the torment between her shame and the drug-induced desire making her eyes fill with tears of embarrassing frustration. All her life she had been in control – at movies and even in the back seats of cars when boys had tried to take advantage of her, use her loveliness – but now she was defenseless against this near stranger and herself.

The bodice of the dress hung inside out at her waist now, and he was working frantically at the zipper at the back of her dress. When the stubborn mechanism finally came free, he slowly pulled the zipper tab down her back and reached up with both hands to hook his fingers inside the waist-band of the garment. He drew down the dress with infuriating boldness, pulling it to her knees to reveal the lush white flesh of her firm thighs and hips. Quickly then, he removed her brassiere and panties – the last remnants covering her nakedness.

He was on his knees now kneeling on the floor before her, and she could do nothing but stand there, completely naked, as he stared eagerly at her magnificently formed, youthful breasts and then down at the soft warm flesh of her wetly quivering pussy.

She flinched and uttered a shrill cry when with a surprisingly gentle touch, he moved forward and placed his thumbs on the lips of her heated vagina, slowly spreading them open and allowing the cool air to play on the moistly sensitive flesh that was revealed. He peered greedily at the delicious, glistening coral tissue he had laid open to him. Two tiny sparkling droplets of moisture rested on the fragile, pink petals that peeked out at him, while the erect pea-shaped little clitoris pulsed before his eyes.

The passion-producing substance he had given her was driving her nearly insane and, despite her sense of humiliation and the fact that she knew that this was wrong, she relished his shameless caresses and hoped that the moment would never end.

Elaine felt the hot wisps of his breath graze her raw, secret flesh and she murmured unintelligibly as suddenly she felt his long red tongue flick out and lick wetly up through her parted cunt, his moisture mingling with her own… My God, she thought to herself, this was purest heaven!

Then Carlo fastened his lips around her throbbing clitoris, licking and sucking, and she began to involuntarily wiggle and squirm her hips in half circles, all the while pushing her groin against his face. The entire length of her vaginal aperture was flowering open to him and there was a perfumed musk of female sexual juices on his tongue. She gave off the tangy exciting aroma of young womanhood, and the satin skin of her thighs clasping his face in a gentle embrace was like sweet-smelling velour. He felt her hands on his head, pulling his mouth into the parted pubic hair with the strength of a tigress. When he responded and moved forward on his knees a little more, pushing his weight against her, she lost her balance and staggered backward a few steps until the edge of the bed caught her behind her knees and she fell nakedly flat on the blue satin spread with a groan of passion and surprise.

He rose, then, and quickly removed his clothing and hastily tossed the wadded-up garments in a heap on the floor. Hearing the rustling sound, Elaine opened her eyes and saw dimly that he was thoroughly naked, his muscular male body presented like a God's for her appraisal. With a shudder of disbelief, she let her gaze fall to his train loins and saw his thick, pulsing penis jutting out like a tree trunk from between his legs. Gasping, she stared in open hunger at the heavily-corded shaft rising with the ominous aspect of a totem-pole above the hairy balls below. The broad hard head flexed and spread even more as she watched. She cringed inwardly, thinking that no woman could possibly take something that monstrous inside her body… She would be split asunder, torn, forever ruined and of no use to any other man, husband or lover.

"Well now, Elaine, what do you think of that? Have you ever seen a prick this big before?" Carlo asked crudely, his lips curled back in a teasing smile as he took the massive cudgel in both hands and waved it obscenely at her.

Elaine lay frozen under the appalling crudity of his obscene words. And yet their very lewdness excited her more and more, so that she was at a loss to understand her own reactions to what was occurring. She could feel the increasing moisture soaking her cock-hungry vagina and crossed her legs to press them closely together, trying to ease the burning sensation that was churning so madly in the pit of her stomach. Carlo's fervent licking and sucking of her vagina had turned her entire body into a tense bundle of raw nerve ends that she was powerless to control. She continued to stare at his massively pulsating penis as it grew even larger, soaking up more blood and standing out farther, a bone-stiff pole that was an inflamed pink right up to the collar of skin under the head. The head itself was purplish, larger in diameter than the long base, like a knuckle-less fist at the end of an upraised arm. There was still a vicious smile on his face as he stood there holding his semen-oozing tool, pointing it at her insultingly and enjoying the obvious effect it was having on her.

"Goddamnit, answer me?" he barked. "How do you like my prick? Now wouldn't you like me to slide it up between your legs? Now!"

"I-I don't know… It… it's so big," Elaine stammered, hating herself for not obeying her instinct to rise and flee from the room, to run away from him and the certainty of what was soon to happen. But the potent aphrodisiac he had given her, plus everything else that had happened so far that evening to stimulate her rendered her incapable of moving or wanting anything at all but what was surely in store for her if she remained there on the bed. Then, as though he had heard her thoughts, he stepped proudly up to the bed and sat down beside her, reaching over with both hands to seize her breasts and squeeze them together like huge straining grapefruits. She could feel small pin pricks of delicious feeling racing through the tips of them as he rolled the light brown hardening nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. The heat of his eager breath rushed at her as he turned his head toward her and locked his mouth firmly on hers. She tried to turn away, reflexively, not wanting to succumb, to make a last futile stand against the impending surrender of her honor, but the pressure of his strong male grip was altogether too much for her in her present state of mind. Nothing mattered but her glorious, mind-leveling feelings and she lad forgotten about being a proper young lady, about everything… except the sheer joy of having this splendid male body, lusting for her tingling female flesh.

His hands then dropped from her ripe white breasts to fondle her hips and trace the lovely full convexities of her flanks and the sides of her slightly flattened bare buttocks. She felt the gouging hardness of his huge, heatedly throbbing penis against her thigh as he leaned over, his hands busy caressing her lower torso. Now his hot mouth clamped wetly over one breast, sucking and pulling hungrily at it, frequently pausing to nip and nibble with his teeth at the erect nipples.

"Now do you know? Now do you want about seven inches of cock in you?" he asked demandingly, his voice hoarse and rasping.

"Oh… I… I'm afraid," the drug-dazed young divorcee responded innocently, unaware that her very helplessness served only to excite him more. Surely he knew that she was raging inside, that her naked and willing body was exploding with desire from his touch and the large portion of the aphrodisiac she had trustingly swallowed. And yet for some reason she clung to the ignorant belief that he was guiltless; crude but guiltless, and had no motive other than to satisfy the same insistent craving for satisfaction and release that she felt. Then, her thoughts momentarily detouring, she pictured her ex-husband and the disgusting image of his sickness, how he had stifled her and prevented her from freedom and any semblance of simple fun in their relatively short marriage. These thoughts renewed Elaine's anger, an anger that ironically fueled her present passion to the point of daring and a state of mind just short of being completely abandoned. Yes, by God, she had always wanted to break free and now she had the chance, even if she was young and naive, frightened as much by her own accepting attitude as she was by the prospect of allowing Carlo to insert his awesomely large penis in her tight, cringing cunt.

"Yes… I want you, Carlo," she murmured, training her smoky, desire-filled eyes for a moment on his face as he feasted on her breast, now rosy and wetly gleaming from the mauling of his mouth. The candor of her confession did not seem to surprise him and he wasted no time as he lifted himself from her, grasping her shoulders to move her into a better position, length-wise, on the bed. Using her globular white breasts for leverage, he pulled himself on top of her, his heavier weight along the length of her body squashing her down into the satin covered bed. He came to rest directly between her tender pulsating thighs, forcing them wider with his own thighs as he pulled her tightly against him and dropped one hand down between them to take his long hard throbbing cock in his fingers and guide it forward, using the thick rubbery glans to part the wet, fleshy lips of her luscious pussy. She flung her head to one side on the bed, closing her eyes and groaning as she felt its hot startling contact against the waiting ragged edges of her glistening cunt. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity, lying there in utter wantonness beneath him, not even daring to breathe or move.

"Ooooh, God!" she finally moaned, no longer in her womb. She was whimpering and pleading desperately now as he began to fuck ruthlessly into her, gritting his teeth with lust and luxuriating in his awareness that she was compulsively following him, beginning to hump in spasmodic jerks beneath him. She groaned as if in anguish, shocking herself as she threw up her arms to wrap them tightly around his neck, pulling his solid well-defined chest into the soft whiteness of her beautiful white breasts. He plunged his long hard cock in and out, filling and emptying her, sinking his heatedly throbbing shaft back and forth between her tightly clasping cuntal lips and on up to her cervix until there was not a single tiny ridge of flesh on it that she could not feel pressing into the walls of her sensitive pussy flesh. The young blonde's mouth moved against her will, opening; and closing in response to each body-jolting stroke of his huge thick hardness, her shining golden hair flowing out on the bed and fanning like light velvet, catching subtle highlights of gold and rust as her head rose and fell with her movements. There was nothing that could stop her insane race for fulfillment, and Carlo fucked like a savage to end it for both of them.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me… hard, hard!" she begged without thought of shame, her whole being centered on the delicious pleasure that had replaced the first pain of his brutal impalement of her. He slithered his strong, sinewy hands under the wildly pumping cheeks of her writhing ass and cupped them firmly, raising them up off the bed to gain better access to her open and pleading loins. Then, pressing further forward, he forced her lovely long satiny legs up off the bed in an arc far back over her head, pressing her knees harshly into the bed on both sides of her shoulders.

Her tortured body was bent back double, jack-knifed, the stress on her strained muscles almost causing her to beg for mercy. The glistening, wet flattened plane of her groin was presented up to him as he increased the rapidity of his thrusts, the penetrations making her moistly quivering cunt secrete and expand wildly before his primitive assault, the very attack that thrilled her beyond thought of caution or conscience. He fucked into her from the tips of his toes and crammed the last fraction of the last inch of his cock into her with thundering lust, bringing fresh ecstatic moans from her lips that responded through the room like cries of a wounded beast. Her nostrils flared further open and her eyes, now glassy and unseeing, were rolled back and fixed hypnotically on the stars twinkling through the glass ceiling.

Carlo placed his hands on either side of her and lifted himself so that he could watch the blonde girl's face. It was something he did not want to miss, the opportune and humiliating surrender of this wanton bitch under him, wild with the effects of the hashish and Bola which had used to lower her resistance. Her arms which had been tightly entwined around his neck, her long, tapered nails clawing frantically at him to pull him into her, suddenly slithered down now and seized his ass-cheeks with demon-like strength to help him fuck between her naked thighs with greater impetus. Juicy smacking sounds filled the room with each brutal stroke he made into her, blending in tempo with the sounds of their breathing and the rhythmic lurching squeaks of the bed. Their bodies were drenched with sweat from their exertions as Carlo labored over her, changing his quick frantic thrusts to longer, smoother strokes that brought his hotly throbbing cock almost all the way out of her desperately clutching vagina on the back-stroke and then forward into her until she could feel the blood-swollen head of his penis colliding hard against her womb deep inside.

Her body was slippery from the sweat of the wild untamed gyrations of her ravenous body and her head flailed crazily back and forth on the satin spread beneath them as she began reaching for the orgasm just beyond her grasp.

Carlo heard her sharp gasp of pleasure as his hands roamed on the softly yielding crevice of her buttocks and, surging with the building tempo of his lust, he moved his hands higher to draw her legs up and around his neck, clasping her ankles together like some human necklace. He fucked into her mercilessly now, skewering her, and she was loving it, fucking back shamelessly, urging him on, calling for more… more… everything!

"Darling, fuck me! Fill me!" she begged, gasping as if she were close to death.

"You're a little whore, aren't you?" he demanded, ramming harder for emphasis. "You love cock, don't you?"

"Ooooooooh, yesssssss…! Yesssssss! I love cock… fucking… cock!" she moaned, out of her head with the humiliating truth of her confession. Stirred by her own lewd words, she swung her ecstatically trembling thighs up and tightened them around his neck, grinding her naked young ass in uncontrolled frenzy up and down, from side to side, spiraling her sweet, hot young cunt along the full length of his huge ramming cock to gain every atom of pleasure she possibly could.

He knew that she was his now, completely, utterly, and had no intention of showing the least bit of mercy or human compassion. He wanted to hear her plead for his hot cum, to beg to be filled with it. And even she, in her mindless ecstasy, could sense the building storm of sperm in his testicles, that soon he would give her the load she wanted so shamelessly.

"Tell me, you bitch, tell me what you want," Carlo growled as he purposefully slowed his stroking movements and teasingly sank his tremendous penis only halfway into her. "Do you want my cum in you? Do you!"

"Oh yes, yes, please!" the voluptuous young blonde gasped, her pride completely vanished as she lay impaled and naked under his weight. The thought of begging him to drive the huge cock into her and empty his balls in her belly was unbearable, but she was beyond caring and yearned only to share a mutual pinnacle of pleasure with this tyrannical stranger.

Pleased that she had submitted to his demand, Carlo increased the tempo of his lunges until he could feel the load of his male sperm rising for an earth-shattering release, the huge head of his cock flexing and suddenly growing larger inside her ravaged cuntal passage. And then, at last, he grunted like a dumb beast and heaved forward, his hot thick liquid spewing deep up into her stretched and battered womb.

Elaine was stunned when she unexpectedly felt the gush of his hot cum shoot into her writhing belly. It was too soon… She was so near, almost at her peak, and the astonishing explosion of Carlo's climax brought tears to her eyes.

Carlo felt her cunt jerk toward him, the lips working and sucking at his spurting cock. Then… after a long moment… he rolled off her, breathing deeply in an effort to fill his lungs with air.

"No! No!" she cried, spreading her legs wider and raising her naked young cunt into the air in search of something to fill it. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" she pleaded hoarsely as she drew back her legs even further, pulling apart the fleshy wet lips of her cunt and presenting him with a perfect view of her open throbbing cuntal passage oozing his shining sperm. "More, you bastard, I want more cock in me!" she shrieked at him in her violent frenzy.

Carlo grinned lasciviously as he watched Elaine's cunt flailing wildly. Now, he thought, now I'll fix the little bitch. Reaching to the night table, he pushed one of the buttons – the button that would summon the surprise Marceau had arranged for him. Turning back to the writhing figure on the bed, he said, "Patience, my dear, in a few moments you will have more cock – plenty of cock."

"Please… Please…" Elaine moaned from the bed, her voice trailing off. She was going mad, and in desperation she shoved two fingers into her wetly throbbing pussy and began finger-fucking the hungry pink folds of her own hungrily clasping cunt. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was better than nothing. She was glad to have something to fill the void of her starving cunt that she did not hear the door open, nor see Nick and Trembles enter the room…

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Meanwhile, Warren Craig, the Count's guest, sat in the center booth listening to the strains of rock music issuing from the empty stage. He was bored; everyone seemed to have disappeared to somewhere or another.

Idly, he switched on the television set above his head. When the picture came into focus, he was no longer bored. The picture showed the interior of a bedroom, with a couple rutting in the middle of a large bed. As he reached up to adjust the color he discovered that the room was decorated only in one color – green. He stared intently at the couple, trying to make out their faces. Ah, now he had it. It was a young man he hadn't met and the rich heiress he had met earlier, fucking wildly, oblivious that anyone was watching them.

Curiously, he pressed one of the set's colored buttons and watched the set change channels. What was there? The room was the same, just a different decorative color – yellow. And here too, was a couple rutting wildly. He studied their faces. It was Benito and his rich widow. He pushed the orange button. Ah, this was even better. His friend the Count was stretched full length on the bed with one of the young girls – the dark-haired one – straddling his loins while another one of the even younger nymphets eagerly straddled his face, fucking her little cunt against his mouth as though she had been doing it all her life. Hmmmmmm. If only the FCC could see this! He pushed the violet button. Ah, Marceau. Now this looks interesting. On the bed was the giggling redhead with her head buried in the loins of another of the young girls, who was equally enthralled with the private parts of the redhead, oblivious to Marceau who was using a big black whip on the 14 year-old blonde girl who had appeared on the stage. He tried to watch the girls on the bed but with Marceau's bare-assed antics, getting between the bed and camera, he couldn't see a damned thing.

So, he pressed the last button – the blue one!

Ah, ha, Carlo! And behind him, the big black drummer and the midget, Trembles, Marceau's chauffeur. But who was the blonde on the bed finger-fucking herself. He squinted to get a better look. My God! It's Elaine! Elaine! My wife… ex-wife. What… what in the hell is she doing here? And like that!

Without bothering to turn off the set, Warren left the booth and hurried toward the corridor…

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"You wanted more prick! Well here it is!" Carlo said harshly to the writhing figure on the bed. "Look at it!" he commanded.

Elaine's eyes fluttered open, but her fingers continued slamming in and out of her cock-starved vagina. What she saw made her recoil in sheer astonishment – and her fingers stop. Nick stood alongside the bed, his huge black penis as thick as her wrist, long and throbbing, rising up in ebony hardness like a jerking tower from between his legs. Holding his rigid shaft proudly, Nick edged onto the bed, then reached down with his other hand to draw back the foreskin in a teasing motion that brought a smile to his lips.

"You still want some prick?" Carlo taunted.

Elaine's eyes were wide with fright as she stared at the inhumanely massive cock, but the drug's effect on her hungry pussy was stronger. If she didn't have a relief soon, she would go out of her mind.

"God, yes," she pleaded, not really knowing what she was saying. "Fuck me! Fuck me before I go mad."

Carlo nodded and Nick reached forward with both hands and pulled Elaine across the bed, forcing her head down between his dark thighs in a position that was uncomfortable to stand unless she moved to the floor on all fours.

"No," she cried, "put it in me!"

"Not until you suck it," Carlo commanded from behind her. "If you're a good little girl, then you can have some cock."

At this point the sex-crazed young divorcee would do anything for it. Her tongue darted out automatically, the tip coming into wet warm contact with shining head of his cock. She circled her pink fleshy tongue around the smooth, rubbery black flesh as he groaned and twisted above her. Her hands dropped to the base of the huge erected prick and she cupped his smooth, heavy testicles with one of them, grazing her dainty tapered nails tantalizingly over the hairy flesh. The other hand she placed at the thick base of his penis where it soared from the crinkly black pubic hair covering his lower stomach. She squeezed it, her fingers barely able to fully encircle the huge girth, and pulled up and then down hard, skinning back the foreskin until the large gleaming head stood alone and naked against the softness of her wetly parted lips. She began planting moist warm kisses around it, beginning at the tip and tracing a path down the full length of it to the bottom and then moistly back up to the tip again.

But the huge Negro could wait no longer. With a gurgle deep in his throat, he reached down to lock his hands behind her head and thrust his loins up with the strength of a bull, and the broad, thick black cock crushed through her soft moist lips into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. She could feel the hugeness of it slithering up the length of her tongue and stuffing her mouth completely with its thick fleshy hardness. He began a slow, lascivious rhythmic undulation of his hips up into her lust-contorted face.

Just then, out of nowhere, she heard another voice. "Shall I start now, Carlo?"

"Yes, start, start!" Carlo barked.

"Whmmmmmm, whmmmmmmmt," Elaine struggled to ask, attempting to form a question around the cock in her mouth. God, what else? she wondered hysterically, trying to imagine what the unknown man was about to do with Carlo's consent.

"This charming young girl wants it, don't you, Elaine? You want the special treatment? Right?"

"Mmmmmmmm, nommmmmmmm," she protested. She did not even know why or what she was afraid of.

Carlo grinned as he watched the midget hurry to the bed and grab the cheeks of her nakedly writhing ass presented up to him.

They were all so engrossed in this new debasement that they did not hear the door silently open and then shut. Nor did they see the man who stood in the shadows watching the merciless despoiling of his ex-wife.

"Now," Carlo hissed as the midget parted Elaine's quivering legs and pushed his short blunted penis into the defenselessly upthrust crevice of her buttocks.

The drugged young divorcee mumbled in protest as she felt her anus being stretched, the walls of her narrow anal passage popping open from the harsh outward pull of her ass-cheeks.

"Here it goes…" Trembles said, growing excited as he pushed his impatiently throbbing shaft forward and pressured the giant tip into the opening of Elaine's cruelly stretched ass. They were sadistically abusing the girl and she was poised in hopeless dejection, on all fours like a dog, the hands holding her so strong that she could not escape. Waves of shame and humiliation washed over her in an evil tide of defilement. She was glad now for the drugged drinks she had had earlier or she could never have stood being sandwiched in this lewd position between them with the depraved black man and the unknown man free to do as they wished. She could not see who was entering her from behind but felt his pressure and grunted with pain even greater than before when his thickness pushed further into her. She wanted to lift her mouth and scream for them to stop, tears running freely down her cheeks as the shaft penetrated another torturing inch and then another. It was hideous and she felt her buttocks being swept wider as the instrument bored forward into the tightly clenched canal of her ass. Her pussy was aflame. Her arms were trembling and her back ached from the inhuman position she was in. She could only mumble.

"Put it in deeper… Give her the ass-fucking she deserves," Carlo urged the midget.

The agony increased as he rammed forward still further, and she felt as if her tender body would split all the way up to her swinging breasts.

Suddenly, without warning, the implacable desire inside her cunt became a rabid torrent once more, and she began to roll her buttocks high up behind her, clasping desperately with her cunt muscles at the hotly pulsing penis burrowing into her anal passage.

Now she wanted to exploit it to the limit, to fill her entrails with it. She punched back wildly at the throbbing shaft in her ass and sucked voraciously at the massive black cock in her mouth, almost gagging, her cheeks hollowing and filling with his every thrust. It was the first time she had ever tasted cock, and now it was sliding down into her desperately working throat as she fought for breath, managing to catch quick gulps of it on the outstroke of his thrusting. She was beyond fighting this lewd rape of her mouth and rectum. She could not even visualize what was happening to her – she was all sensation and mentally raving at the slave to erotic fury she had become within a mere matter of minutes.

"Well now, look at her… She's changed a lot hasn't she," she heard Carlo say sarcastically.

The powerfully pistoning penis in her rectum smacked with renewed force, as if in answer, ravaging her, disappearing and surfacing, caving her forward onto the Negro's rock-hard cock and spreading Elaine's throat until she thought she would die from suffocation alone.

She arched upwards, the cords in her strained neck standing out, her long blonde hair falling on the ebony loins around the cock she was sucking with all her might, trying to time her movements to those of the Negro's… yet never forgetting to follow as much as possible the quivering gyrations and pummelings of the long hard shaft behind. It was ramming and fucking into her at its full length, and – God! – it was beginning to feel wonderful!

"Slap the bitch's tits!" Carlo shouted to the black man. In obedience, Nick released her head with one hand and then drew it back to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to one of her bouncing breasts. The kneeling blonde responded, moaning with a muffled sound and yet feeling a delicious sensation of odd masochistic joy. The blow only increased her sense of debasement, thus increasing her shame, but nothing could diminish the pleasure she was beginning to feel.

Oh, if only he would – shoot his cum in my mouth, Elaine yearned, mumbling out her submission to the lewd desires racing through her cock-ravished body. She was truly their slave, and now, inciting her more, the huge Negro valet was leaning forward a little to course his hands over her swollen white breasts. He was reaching the crescendo of his own desire, she could tell, and wormed as best she could one of her hands over to once again cup his magnificent balls, pulling on them lightly as she was driven backward with each lunge he made into her hot wet throat.

"Tighten your lips, bitch!" he snapped at the slaving girl, his voice tight with passion.

Elaine followed his bidding, at the same moment feeling her own climax approaching, the first of a rapid series of mind-destroying jolts.

Then all hell broke loose!

Nick, in front of her, jerked suddenly as though lashed with pain and jammed his hips up tightly into her face, sinking half the fantastic length of his wildly jerking cock deep in her gasping throat. She could not breathe, could not care, for the incredible prick was erupting in the gratefully receiving interior of her sucking mouth as strange, profane chantings escaped his lips. His hot thick sperm squirted into her mouth like a rush of raging water through a storm drain, and she sucked and swallowed, her cheeks inflating and deflating the whole time from the pressure of the bursting dam of Negro cum. It lasted forever, it seemed, her throat accepting the warm sticky liquid of his passion, and then it pulsed with a long last jerk… at last softening beneath her swirling tongue. The young divorcee's reason was gone, and she clung to him as her greatest orgasm of all stiffened her voluptuously writhing body, flooding out in great sensual waves of cum just as the thick, jack-hammering cock in her ass spewed into her too. Cum flowed out of her in hot liquid streams, making her cunt lips throb and flower open wide as it ran down the insides of her trembling thighs. Her ecstasy was indescribable, and all of her groin felt wet and used beyond belief.

She was crying, tears of real joy pouring from her eyes; then they fluttered closed and she released the Negro's now limp penis, its softness slipping from her tightly pursued lips with a slight pop as, at the same time, the cock withdrew from her satiated rectum with a wet, obscene sucking sound.

Elaine fell immediately across Nick's thighs, exhausted, her surrender almost complete. Almost… Because at that moment she opened her eyes and saw the midget who had been fucking her from behind… Almost… because just then the stranger stepped from the shadows, and she stared with disbelief at her ex-husband… Almost… because, one after another, all of the guests took turns on her, keeping her hot wet cunt and soft sucking mouth filled with male flesh.

And she loved every minute of it!

EPILOGUE

Carlo sat back in his chair, crossed his long legs, and surveyed the plaza. There were not many people in the square and those who were strolling up and down were mostly San Franciscians. Another spring, thought Carlo, the beginning of another season. Soon, there would be crowds in the square, crowds of eager tourists, all ripe for the plucking…

Trust Benito to be late, he thought, I have to bloody well wait while he takes all day to get here.

Just then he saw Benito's short, stocky figure hurrying across the plaza toward him. Benito spotted him, waved and broke into a trot; Carlo raised one hand in a languid salute.

"Sorry. Sorry." Benito was out of breath. He sat down at the table, looking intently at Carlo.

"Where did you get that sun tan?" he asked Carlo.

"In the mountains," was the brief reply. "Weren't you there at all this year?"

Benito looked confused. "I… I haven't been well," he muttered. "My nerves were all shot to pieces. I've been resting at home…"

Christ, thought Carlo, if he's spent the winter at home with that monster of a mother, no wonder he looks pale.

"Have you got the apartment?" Benito asked.

Carlo nodded.

"Same as last year?"

Carlo nodded again.

There was a brief silence. "You heard about Nino, I suppose," Carlo finally remarked.

Benito shook his head. "I haven't heard much news lately."

"Then you'll doubtless be interested to hear that Nino – our dear friend Nino – married Sue Miller, the heiress. Her father had not only millions, but multi-millions. I checked," Carlo said. "We can't afford to make mistakes over details like that."

Benito didn't answer. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts.

Carlo's mind was busily reviewing the season's prospects. It was going to be a good year, he could feel it in his bones. He had dumped the travel agency job. All sweat and precious little profit. Now he had some real contacts, the kind who would put him onto the really lucrative stuff. He leaned further back in his chair, his long legs stretched out before him. The details were nicely sewn up already. He would be getting the lowdown on every well-heeled arrival in San Francisco, even before any of them hit town. There were some very interesting projects lined up. Marceau and the Count had the hots just thinking about the parties they were going to organize; Carlo knew how their minds worked… And his new partner should add a new wrinkle to the game.

Benito looked uncomfortable. He wriggled on his seat. "Let's get the apartment settled," he suggested.

"The rent is higher than last year," Carlo said smoothly. "But that's only to be expected. Nothing else is changed."

A pale ray of April sunshine suddenly brightened the plaza. They both looked up just as the slim figure approached their table.

Carlo rose, saying to Benito, "Here she comes now."

Benito's eyes twinkled in recognition as the lovely blonde with the piercing blue eyes settled into the chair Carlo pulled out for her.

"Benito, you remember Elaine, don't you," Carlo said.

"Yes," Benito answered, "I remember Elaine…"

Content

Kitty Spencer
Three-way weekend

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE