"Scotch?" Lionel asked, pouring a drink for Connie from the bottle that he kept on the shelf next to his stereo tuner. Connie nodded, accepting the glass from him as soon as he finished filling it. She still felt a bit nervous about being alone with him in his apartment, and sipped at her drink in order to avoid his eyes.
They had walked about half-way to the Glass Onion when Lionel remembered that it was Tuesday and that the discotheque would be closed. He persuaded Connie to come with him to his apartment by reminding her about the drugs which they had set out to discuss. Although her first impulse had been to refuse, she overcame her initial discomfort by remembering that she was a policewoman on an important assignment. But the alcohol which she had consumed at the party was making it increasingly difficult for her to remember anything.
The scotch went down easily, her throat having become numb to the burning sensation that it usually caused. Before she knew it, her glass was empty and she handed it back to Lionel. Refilling it immediately, he returned it to her.
When Lionel had first suggested going to his apartment, Connie was hesitant, fearing that her agreement to go with him might too easily be misunderstood. Her mother's teachings kept running through her head. Woman had been leading man on ever since Eve fed Adam the forbidden fruit. And man couldn't help his lustful ways. But remembering that Fred Bergen had referred to Lionel as "everybody's connection", she had finally agreed, certain that her Police Academy training had equipped her to handle any trouble that might arise and afraid of losing a perfect opportunity to accomplish her assignment.
Now the liquor was helping her to forget her nervousness. And Lionel's easy casual manner was restoring her confidence. She looked slowly around his apartment, still trying to avoid glancing directly at him.
The room was large – about twelve by twenty with a high ceiling. All four walls were covered in black felt as was the ceiling. A black carpet on the floor completed the macabre motif. The room was practically bare, the only furniture being Lionel's elaborate stereo set and an oversized mattress which occupied a corner of the floor at the far end of the room. The mattress was covered with a black fitted sheet and a thin black blanket was thrown carelessly across it.
All illumination came from a pole lamp in the center of the room. Each of the three spotlight type fixtures on the pole contained a different color bulb and was pointed in a different direction. The overall effect was eerie.
"Have you ever seen a light organ?" Lionel asked, reaching for Connie's glass and filling it to the brim.
"No, I don't think so," Connie said. The whole room seemed to be in motion and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep her feet.
"Come over here and join me on the couch," Lionel said. "I'll show you. I built it myself." He walked toward the mattress and dropped to a sitting position at its edge. Hearing him refer to the mattress as a couch seemed somehow funny to Connie and she laughed as she eased herself down on it. She felt her yellow miniskirt sliding up her thighs as she sat on the mattress trying to balance her brimming drink in her hand.
For a long confused moment, she didn't know what to do about her skirt. Then, emptying her glass in one long swallow, she placed it on the floor beside her and tugged at the hem with both hands. The entire room was spinning, and Connie found herself giggling as she battled futilely with the errant garment. The harder she struggled, the more stubborn her miniskirt became, and she was aware that her movements were driving it up even higher.
Lionel watched the struggle with amusement, his eyes opening wide as her lace-covered crotch winked at him. Then, seeking to put her at her ease, he rose from the mattress and turned his back to her as he walked back toward the whiskey bottle, taking her glass with him. Things are going just fine, he thought, filling her glass again. She's already on the mattress and so loaded she doesn't know whether she's coming or going. Time to turn on the light organ. He flipped a switch on the cabinet of the stereo tuner. The ceiling above the mattress was immediately illuminated by a series of flashing red, blue, and yellow lights.
When Lionel returned to the mattress, Connie was sitting with her legs tucked under her and her skirt pulled over her knees. He put the drink in her hand and sat next to her as she sipped it tentatively. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he tipped her back so that she found herself looking up at the flashing lights on the ceiling. She drained her glass to avoid spilling any of the amber liquid onto her red blouse.
"See," Lionel said, his voice softly seductive. "The lights change in color and intensity to match the changes in the music. They get brighter when the music is loud and dimmer when it's soft. Red goes with the treble notes and blue with the bass. Isn't it far out?"
"It's beautiful," Connie said. The flashing lights were filling her consciousness completely now. She felt hypnotized by them – carried off by the marriage of visual and auditory stimulation as the musical crescendos blended with the flashing splashes of colored light to dim all awareness of her surroundings. She leaned back for a better yew, feeling the softness of the mattress envelop her body as she lay back on it. "Simply beautiful," she repeated.
"So are you," Lionel said, suddenly holding her face in his hands. Connie wanted to shake her head and throw his hands from her, but was unable to muster the energy. It felt so good to lie there watching the pretty lights flash and listening to the music. And Lionel's strong hands on her face felt comforting and secure.
His face was directly over hers now, blocking her view of the brightly lit ceiling. At first she tried to look past him at the lights. But then she took a good look at his face. It was a nice face – lean and strong looking. His long blond hair fell around it in loose curls, making her think of an ancient Greek statue that she had once seen in a museum.
His penetrating eyes were deep blue and very clear, and his face was clean-shaven. Connie thought that he was remarkably handsome for a long-hair. He was staring at her now, his eyes moving slowly over her face, examining each of her features carefully. Connie was flattered by the open, look of admiration on his face as he studied her.
His face moved slowly toward hers, coming closer and closer, until his hot breath warmed her skin, making it tingle comfortably. Then he leaned further down and brought his lips gently against her cheek, brushing it with the lightest of kisses. Connie felt her whole body tingling in response to the tender contact. Something told her that she should stop him before things got out of hand but there was a part of her that resisted, wanting to savor the pleasure of his touch for just a moment longer.
In a moment his lips were on hers, grazing them lightly at first and then steadily increasing the pressure. She closed her eyes as he kissed her, trying to remember the reason that she shouldn't enjoy the pleasurable sensations that were beginning to undulate across her body. Kissing is so unsanitary, she thought drunkenly. But alcohol kills germs, doesn't it? She knew that there was something that she was supposed to talk to him about, but she just couldn't remember what it was.
He was kissing her more insistently now, his lips nibbling lightly at hers as he turned his face slowly from side to side. She had never been kissed on the lips before, not even by her mother. When she saw leading ladies being kissed in the movies, she had always wondered how it felt. But until now, the thought of ever finding out was completely foreign to her.
It felt wonderful – unlike anything that she had ever experienced before. For a fleeting instant, she remembered her mother's warning that kissing could lead to sin. But in her present state, she couldn't see how anything that felt so good could be sinful.
Lionel's tongue was darting out between his teeth now, jabbing delicately at the moist warm flesh of her lower lip. She allowed her lips to part slightly, surprised when his tongue slipped between them to explore her gums and the surfaces of her teeth. The same tingling itch which had disturbed her at the party earlier was beginning again in the pit of her groin. It felt like a million tiny shocks of static electricity were sparking all over her body. And she liked it!
When Lionel's tongue began to engage her own in battle, she was reluctant to meet its playful thrusts. Tongue kissing was something that she had heard about but didn't really understand. Whenever she thought about it in the past, it had seemed disgustingly intimate. But now that Lionel's tongue was exploring the innermost recesses of her warm oral cavity, it didn't feel disgusting at all. In fact, it felt damned good!
Without consciously realizing what she was doing, Connie began to fence with Lionel's tongue, stabbing at it with her own and following it back into the warmth of his mouth when it retreated before the onslaughts of her thrusts. Although her eyes were closed, the colored lights on Lionel's ceiling continued flashing in her head. She was floating on a pink cotton-candy cloud, mesmerized by her first kiss and transported by it to a plane on which right and wrong were forgotten in the face of never-before-experienced pleasure. Almost involuntarily, her arms snaked around Lionel's neck, pressing his lips even harder against her own.
Lionel felt his cock stiffening in his pants. From the way that she was reacting to his kisses, it was obvious that this was a chick who hadn't had much sexual experience. He liked that. It meant that her cunt would be good and tight. Not like the usual Forest Hills broad, all stretched out from fucking everything in pants. She's hotter than an iron, he thought. Probably hasn't been getting much cock lately. Maybe that's why she was so willing to come up here.
Even the more-experienced Forest Hills girls usually put up a token fight before letting him lure them into his famous den of seduction. But this one had agreed right away. She must be dying for a good stiff prick, he thought. Well, I've got just the thing for her.
As Lionel kissed the young undercover agent, he let one of his hands slip casually to her upper arm, running his fingers softly up and down the goosefleshed skin as he drove his tongue deeper into her warmly moist mouth. The movement brought his knuckles into light contact with the rounded curve of her swollen breast and he stroked it gently with the backs of his fingers. The soft mound of resilient titflesh felt big and round through the material of her red blouse. He longed to cup its quivering fullness lovingly in the palm of his hand, but held back, careful not to frighten her off with too much too soon.
Connie was acutely aware of the light touch of his fingers on her breast. She had never felt anything so wonderful before in her life, but she knew that trouble would result if she didn't regain control of herself quickly. At first she told herself that the contact was unintentional and that moving his hand away would only draw unnecessary attention to it, causing embarrassment. But as the pressure of his stroking fingers increased, she became certain that he was purposely touching her.
She felt her nipple harden, pressing insistently at the white fabric of her bra-cup. She knew that she should brush his hand away from her tit with a quick, unequivocating movement, but feared that if she did so he would stop kissing her. And she didn't want the wonderful kiss to end. Yet! His tongue was exploring the inside of her mouth uninhibitedly and his teeth were nibbling gently at her lips, making her whole body tingle. Perhaps if she held his hand in hers she could stop him from touching her breast without breaking the kiss.
She reached for his hand and held it gently in her own as he continued kissing her. He allowed her to move his hand away from the curving swell of her ripe young kits for a moment, contenting himself with the exploration of her mouth with his tongue. Then, her hand clinging gently to his, he returned to the luscious hillocks of her breasts. This time he placed his hand over her blouse-covered tit, cupping its firm softness in his palm and kneading it gently with his fingers. He could feel her nipple pressing against the palm of his hand, hard as a pebble inside the tightly constricting cup of her bra.
Connie drew her breath in sharply when she felt his hand settle down confidently over the untouched mound of her tit. Her body was on fire, flames of passionate desire threatening to consume her. The scotch that she had consumed was muffling the alarm which was ringing inside her head. She told herself that she could stop him any time that she wanted to. But, for now, she was sure that she didn't want him to stop. Just another minute, she resolved. And then I'll sit up, smoothen my skirt, and have another drink.
But Lionel's hand was moving from one tit to the other now, bringing both her nipples to painful erection. The liquor which had weakened her resistance wasn't dulling her senses in the least. Every movement of his fingers reverberated through her body with the force of a cannon shot. She clung desperately to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, as he stroked and titillated her with his adept fingers.
Lionel moved his lips from her mouth and began kissing Connie's neck, his lips nibbling gently at the taut white skin. Her breathing had become labored and raspy, and he heard her gasping for breath in the face of the intense stimulation of his kissing lips and stroking fingers. Her mouth was open, and little moans of pleasure were coming from her throat. But she didn't hear them, her ears filled with a resonant buzzing sound which threatened to rob her of her sanity.
She felt him kissing her breasts through the red material and knew that she had to act instantly or risk the complete loss of control. As he kissed her, his fingers fumbled expertly with the buttons of her blouse. She thought that she felt him open one and then the other. She wanted to reach for his hand and pull it away from the front of her blouse, but found herself paralyzed by the combination of liquor and stimulation.
Her blouse was completely open now and his lips were trailing a line of moist kisses across the swelling tops of her breasts where they overflowed the cups of her bra. Her entire body was in motion, her hips grinding up and down as Lionel's hands and lips worked expertly at stimulating her. She felt one of his hands slipping under her back to work at the catch of her bra.
As the clasp opened and the straps of the lacy undergarment loosened, she felt her blood run cold. He was undressing her. I've got to stop him, she thought.
"No!" she said, a hint of panic in her voice. "No! You mustn't."
But Lionel kissed her on the lips again, silencing her protests. As he kissed her, his tongue stole inside her mouth for a slow and thorough exploration, and she felt the tingling in her groin spreading to her whole body. She continued to struggle for a minute, turning her head from side to side in an effort to free her mouth so that she could speak, so that she could beg him, command him to stop. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he take his hands off her and leave her alone. But as his tongue jabbed and retreated, she found herself returning his kiss, all her caution drowned in desire.
Lionel pulled gently at the brassiere, slipping the straps over her shoulders and down the length of her smooth arms. Then he tossed it away, anxious to return his hands to the now-naked softness of her tits. He cupped first the left one and then the right, holding each of them gently in his hand and letting his fingers trail across their silky surface in a spiraling motion which brought her nipples to quivering rigidity.
Connie felt the warm air of the room wash over the bare skin of her soft mounds of titfiesh. She never imagined that anything could feel this good. She had lost consciousness of everything but the intense flashes of pleasure that were sweeping across her tingling flesh. Lionel's lips were again trailing wetly across her soft white throat, working their way further and further down until at last they found the softly curving swell of her tits where they lingered sensuously, kissing, nibbling, and licking delicately at the palpitating skin.
Her body trembled as his lips caressed the lush contours of her hard-nippled tits, exploring the rounded curves and savoring the taste of her skin in places where no one had ever been before. She realized that the upper part of her body was naked, completely exposed to his vision, to his touch, and to his kisses. And while the thought would have horrified her a few short moments before, she found that it excited her now, raising the temperature of her body to the fever level and beyond.
Rivulets of perspiration formed in her armpits and in the hollow of her throat, rolling down her body, titillating the skin in their path and wetting Lionel's long blond hair. His face was buried in the valley between the swollen mountains of her boobs. He inhaled deeply of the delicate fragrance of her body as he kissed and licked the smooth skin.
Her nipples were so hard that they ached. The sensation was almost more than she could bear and her body thrashed feverishly about on the bed, her legs scissoring apart and together as though she was swimming. The frantic movements brought her skirt riding high up around her waist, but she was completely unaware of her dishabille, all thought lost in the rushing wave of never-before-felt pleasure that Lionel's adroit lips and fingers were bringing her.
Then suddenly, Lionel's head was hovering over the pink capped tips of her white marshmallow-soft tits. He blew his hot breath across the quivering face of one puckered red nipple for a moment, bathing it in the heat of his passion.
Then, snaking his tongue out quickly, he licked at the rubbery nubbin. Connie gasped as the pointy tip of his tongue traced a wet little circle around the rosy disc of her aureole. The turgid center of her nipple stood up bard and firm, forming a rosy cylinder half an inch across and, three quarters of an inch long at the crest of her snowy-white tit.
Lionel licked the quivering pink button slowly, working the tip of his moist tongue around the stiff knob until it was completely coated with his glistening saliva. Then, parting his lips, he took the thick wet nipple into his mouth, sucking gently on the soft erection and sweeping across its surface with the broad blade of his tongue. Connie groaned in uncontrollable pleasure, all thought of stopping him forgotten in the hot tingling rush of passion which enveloped her.
Lionel's hands were cupping her breasts tenderly and holding them up for his lips which moved from one nipple to the other, kissing, sucking, and nipping gently at the puckered morsels. He allowed, the tip of his tongue to trail wetly across the satiny surface of her tits. The little animal sounds of pleasure that were bubbling from her lips pleased him and brought his prick to palpitating erection. He felt the thick rod of flesh straining inside his tight jeans.
As he licked and sucked at her nipples, he let one of his hands stray casually across the flat plane of her belly. Connie could feel his fingertips working their electric magic on her bare skin, making it ripple and undulate to his touch. Her hips were rolling about on the mattress, as though trying, by moving quickly, to cool the ardor which was building in her pussy.
Lionel's fingers encountered the material of her short miniskirt, bunched uselessly up around her waist. He moved his hand quickly across the wrinkled garment, slowing when he made contact with the crisp white lace of her panties. He could feel the soft cushion of her pubic hair through the flimsy garment, his fingers stroking the furry mound of her sex idly as he continued rolling her nipples around in his teeth and lips. Carefully, so he wouldn't break the mood, he worked the tips of his fingers under the elastic waistband of her panties, sliding his hand across the smooth white skin of her flat little belly.
Connie gasped when she felt his hand inside her panties. He was just inches away from her cunt, about to violate the privacy of her body – a privacy that she had vowed to maintain. Not even the haze created by the scotch that she had imbibed could dull her to the knowledge of what would happen if she didn't act quickly. My God, she thought, I'm about to lose my virginity to this long-haired dope pusher. And I'm not even putting up a fight.
The realization galvanized her to action. She snapped her long shapely legs together and wriggled away from his exploring hand. At the same time she tangled her fingers in his long blond hair in an attempt to pull him away from her swollen tits and turgid nipples. "Stop," she said. "This has gone far enough." She tried to twist away from him, to free herself from his lascivious grasp.
But Lionel held her tight, refusing to relinquish his grip on her naked tit. His mouth worked hard at restoring the excitement that she had obviously been feeling a moment before. He whipped his tongue swiftly back and forth across the still-distended pink nipples and the soft warm mounds of her breasts.
She was quickly bringing her passion under control, becoming more and more successful at conquering the lingering desire to let him go on kissing and petting her. Her body had betrayed her, allowing its bestial lusts to temporarily overpower her sense of morality, but she had come to her senses now and would fight him with everything that she had.
But Lionel was stronger than she realized. His lips continued to work at her tits, kissing them tenderly and gently. And his hands held her in a grip of iron, holding her body down and pinning her arms at her sides.
The little cock-tease, he thought. She likes to play but won't go all the way. Welt maybe she can get away with that shit with the boys from Connecticut, but this is the big city. I'll teach the little cunt a lesson she'll never forget.
Pressing his lips roughly against hers, he silenced the cries of protest that she was uttering. Then, with a quick movement of his hand, he tore the lacy panties from her crotch, exposing her cunt suddenly to the warm muggy air of his apartment. When he had torn the wisp of lace from her, he held it to his nose inhaling the pungent spicy aroma of her excitement. She's hot to trot, he thought. She wants to get laid. In spite of what she says. Maybe she's just putting up a fight so she won't have to feel guilty when it's over.
Well, that was all right with him. He would humor her. He would play her little game of "rape me" if that's what she wanted. If rough stuff is what turns her on, he thought, then I'll play rough.
When she turned her head, trying to break from his kiss, he bit roughly into her lip. Connie grunted in pain, the salty taste of her own blood filling her mouth. Lionel's hands were becoming rougher, too. He mauled her tits now, squeezing and kneading them in his fingers, pinching and rolling the still-swollen buds of her inflamed nipples between thumb and forefinger.
With his other hand he rubbed her cunt roughly, inserting one finger stiffly between the moist tender lips of her virgin pussy. She continued to fight him, rolling her hips away from his touch and protesting constantly, with muffled grunts of anger and pain. But Lionel ignored her protests, his fingers searching deliberately in the curling jungle of her pubic hair for the entrance to her vulva. Her pussy lips flowered open to his touch, revealing the sticky wetness of her internal cuntal membranes. Gently running his finger up and down the fluid length of her drooling slit, he carried a drop of the warm moisture to the little hood of folded membrane which sheathed her clit. The little desire button was hard and erect and he rubbed it roughly with the calloused tip of one finger.
Then, with a quick movement of his other hand, he opened his fly, freeing his stiff cock from the painful confinement of his tight jeans. Connie's blood froze at the sound of his zipper opening. "No, no, no, no, no," she tried to say, but his lips, still pressing against her own, muffled the words and made them sound like grunts of pleasure. Nothing could stop him now.
She tried to hold her thighs together, but Lionel pulled them roughly apart, letting go of her arms to use both of his hands. As he mounted her, she drummed his back with her fists. But he ignored her, concentrating all his effort on prying her legs apart. Then, crawling between them, he pinned her to the mattress with the full weight of his body. His cock jutted obscenely from the gaping fly at the front of his pants and he jabbed insistently at her with it, trying to locate the slimy opening of her pussy.
Unsuccessful at finding her wet cuntal opening with his prick, he separated the lips of her cunt with the fingers of one hand, then he directed the swollen tip of his throbbing hardon to the tender folds of flesh which glistened wetly between her smooth thighs. As Connie felt the rubbery cockhead prying at the entrance of her virginal womanhood, she realized that all was lost. Gone was the pleasure of a few moments before. Her head was cold and clear, the alcoholic haze driven, off by her terror and revulsion.
Her mother had been right. It wasn't man's fault that he was no better than a rutting beast, snorting and growling in a nonstop attempt to bury his stiff cock in the trembling softness of a woman's cunt. Woman was to blame. Now it was Connie's fault. She had drunk too much and permitted the blond boy to take liberty with her body too freely. Now matters had gotten completely out of hand and she had no one to blame but herself.
With a rending tearing searing stab of pain, she felt his stiff prick entering her, tearing the taut membrane which guarded the entrance to her virgin vagina. She resolved to resist him in the only way left to her – by denying him the satisfaction of conquest. Biting her lips to keep from screaming, she forced her body to go limp, fighting to control her natural desire to kick and thrash. She lay like a wet dishrag, neither moving nor reacting, as Lionel used her, driving his stiff cock to the hilt in her tightly clasping pussy.
So lost was he in the ecstasy of his insertion that he wasn't even aware that he had deflowered a virgin, smashing her cherry in a blinding flash of agony. He pumped his hips forward rhythmically, feeling her pussy stretching tightly around his prick like a rubber collar, pulling at the flesh of his hotly palpitating cock, stimulating it, arousing it. He knew that he would soon be pumping a hot load of juice into her reluctant snatch. He humped his hips harder, anxious to get his rocks off quickly.
He usually worked harder at pleasing the girls whom he fucked, but this prick-teasing little bitch deserved exactly what she was getting – to be used like an old wash bucket – a receptacle for the hot torrent of semen which was already finding its way upwards through the coils of tubing which led from his swinging swaying testicles to the throbbing purple head of his prick.
And then his ejaculation was upon him, like a long curling wave crashing on the rocks of the shore. Spurt after spurt of hot whirling jism shot from his cocktip, spraying the back of her cunt like a bubbling geyser. The tip of his prick nudged insistently at the knob of her cervix deep within the nether depths of her pussy, the tightly constricting walls of her inner cunt becoming slimy with the fluids of his exploding climax and fitting tightly over his hardon like a lubricated condom.
Then, at last, the waves of pleasure began to subside and he slowed the motions of his hips. When Connie felt the hot flood of fluid inundating her cunt, she wanted to vomit. This vile dope pusher was filling her with the juices of life, after robbing her of her hymen in the most brutal of ways. She couldn't even find the strength to hate him, realizing that she was to blame and that if she hated anybody it should be herself. She tried to think about something else, but found her consciousness dominated by a lewd vision of his bludgeoning cock, long and hard, penetrating her pussy and filling it with his vile secretions.
At last his cock softened and slipped from her cunt with an obscene plopping sound. He rolled off her, sighing deeply as he settled comfortably down on the mattress. She turned away from him, hot tears of shame and humiliation filling her eyes and overflowing them, running down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Lionel said at last. "But you had it coming. You can't tease a man the way you did and then think you can turn him off like a faucet."
Connie was silent as she reached for her brassiere and put it on quickly, anxious to hide her nakedness as swiftly as possible. She tugged her skirt down over her hotly dripping cunt, unable to staunch the flow of hot tears running from her eyes. "I don't ever want you to touch me again," she said. "I'm not blaming you for what happened. I blame myself for that. But I don't ever want to see you again."
"All right," Lionel said. "If that's the way you want it." Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, "But I thought you wanted to score some dope."
Connie suddenly remembered who she was and why she had come to Lionel's apartment. She had allowed her personal feelings to get in the way of her assignment, not once thinking about her mission since entering Lionel's apartment. And now she was defiled and shamed, forever soiled because of the weakness of a moment. She had to get that heroin. It was the only way that she could redeem herself in her own eyes.