A part of the terms of Perry Coleman's parole was that he must stay out of bars, but his probation officer was an understanding man and he condoned Perry's regular visits to the Happy Hour. It was an ordinary enough saloon, catering to the working man. He'd been in bars just like it throughout the country before he'd been busted. They served only beer, as far as the law knew, but the hard stuff was available if you wanted it. There were two coin-operated pool tables on which the patrons played for up to a dollar on Thursday nights, up to fifty on Fridays, paydays. They cashed Consolidated paychecks at the Happy Hour, and it was a big temptation for Perry to keep out of the big money pool games on the big money nights, for he knew he could beat the wage earners on the tables, but he had to keep his nose clean. He didn't want to go back to jail, and he almost liked his job, so the pleasure of fleecing a few drunken laborers out of their hard-earned cash just wasn't enough of a temptation to yield to. So he went to the Happy Hour every night after work, and during the time it took him to drink four beers, he gabbed with the other Consolidated employees and reflected on how much better off he was here instead of in jail, and occasionally he picked up one of the broads who ventured in. On that Thursday night, because he was broke, his beers were bought on credit, and he didn't want to use his credit to buy the drinks necessary to pick up a chick, even though he was terribly horny.
Perry Coleman wanted to sit and savor his close escape, or more correctly, the victory he'd won over the establishment. And he wanted to think about how he could make that victory even sweeter. Sure, it had been a gas putting tight-ass Laura Dandridge on when she was leaving the pilot plant, but how much better it would be to rub his victory in, to have her hustling her luscious little body out to the pilot plant each day for a fast fuck? He'd always wanted to try her. The pent-up sexual energies inside him needed a lot of release, and he'd have liked to take it out on her. There had to be a way, and it wasn't with the direct approach he'd used that day. Words wouldn't seduce her, but other things would.
He should have been content with Helen, and in any other circumstances he would have been. Ace out her boy friend, whoever he was, move in on her, and live it up for a while. Still he was horny for Laura, the sneak, the hard-up virgin. That was the way with Perry, the more ass he got, the more he wanted. Far from satisfying him, Helen had only turned him on more, now that it was over. But that was to be expected, for he was way behind in the cunt department after having spent five years behind bars. So he'd forget about Laura for tonight and use what he'd learned about Helen to get it on with her again that night. He had her address from the phone book, and that should be enough. He. finished his fourth beer and left the Happy Hour.
Helen's address was a new, expensive apartment house, one of the best in Sulfur City. Still in his work coveralls, he had no business being there, but Perry used his confidence and his coveralls to stroll past the swimming pool like a workman called in to fix an air-conditioning unit. He had an erection when he rang her bell.
"Who is it?" Unmistakably, it was her voice.
"Perry Coleman. From work. Lemme in."
There was a pause and she said, "I can't now."
"Sure you can," he insisted. "I got something to tell you. It's important. About work. Lemme in."
"What about work? Did you tell somebody what we did?"
"Lemme in."
She did. She had on a flowered robe, short, and beltless and he could see a lot of her body through it, a body he'd known, all hot and giving, a body he wanted more of, right away. Though she was backing off and holding out her palms at him, he tried to reach her, until the big blond kid in the towel appeared from her balcony.
"Who's this guy?" he asked.
"Perry Coleman. The guy I got it on with at work yesterday. Perry. this is Bobby Barker. He works in Transportation."
Surveying the frowning young giant, Perry said, "He's a fork lift operator. I've seen him. You really go for the crumbs, don't you, Helen?"
The big guy started forward, but Helen ably stopped him by plastering her body against his side, not caring now that her robe fell open. Smiling, she said, "You've got no complaints, Perry. I balled you and maybe I'll ball you again. But that's for work. Bobby's for here."
"Yeah, so split," said the kid.
He might have been a kid, and Perry might be tough and dirty, but still Perry doubted if he could take him, not even with Helen as the prize. So he turned on the charm and told her about the close call they'd had, all the while watching with barely concealed envy as Bobby flaunted his current possession of the big, lusty redhead.
The bastard, he stripped her robe off her and felt up her luscious charms while Perry looked on and talked and Helen turned on and listened. The oaf ran his callused hands over her ripe body and felt the tits that Perry hungered for and the ass that he'd felt-all too briefly-and used his fingers in the hair that didn't match that on her beautiful head. She reacted well, as Perry wished she were reacting to him. Smiling at his account of his meeting with Markham and subsequently with Laura, Helen snuggled closet to her youthful lover, first stroking his loins through the towel, then dropping it to the floor to fondle him in the flesh.
His prick was bigger than Perry's but surely it wasn't as hard, and Perry thought again about taking him on. But, no. It wouldn't be worth it. He. had only a fifty-fifty chance against him, and those odds weren't right. Cool it. Negotiate it. Work something out. That was the way to go.
"So that's it," he said. "We got caught, but thanks to some fast talking on my part, it don't matter. We can't get it on at work any more, but there's other places besides that. Here, for instance, or at my place."
Bobby answered. He said, "Screw off. This is my woman."
"Get this straight, boy," she said, facing him, dropping his cock, a nice one, but not as experienced as Perry's. "I'm not anybody's woman but mine. If I want to ball someone, I'll ball them. It so happens I don't want to ball Perry now. And he doesn't want to ball me, no matter what he says. He's after Laura Dandridge-or at least I think he is-so settle down, Bobby, and don't get possessive, for Christsake. And go get me a drink."
He glowered and hulked off, and Perry came close enough to whisper, "Baby, it's you I want. Get rid of him. Let's make it."
She smiled and shook her head. She said, "Not now. It would bug him-it would shatter his ego. Bring a chick by that he could take on, and it would be a different matter. But he couldn't take seconds after your firsts, or thirds after your seconds. Bring a chick by and then we'll really get it on."
Perry hung around and had a drink with them. He watched them make out while he sipped it, and he burned inside. Naked as hell, the two of them leisurely cavorted on the couch while Perry's cock oozed in a most frustrating way. He watched them fondle each other all over. He watched while the young blond boob went down on the sexy redhead and noisily lapped the cunt he yearned for. He stuck around, feigning indifference, until she started sucking the kid's cock, and then it became too much for him and he had to leave.
He went home to the little shack he rented on the edge of town, in sight of the plant, and brooded about it all over three more cans of beer. It was all that Laura's fault, and he'd get her…he'd get her, sure enough. He took out his prick and began slowly jacking off as he thought about the things he'd do to Laura if she were with him then.
The steak dinner had been very good, and the coffee and conversation after it had been so enjoyable it had stretched on for over an hour before Chuck Davids called for the check. Laura looked thoroughly relaxed and utterly beautiful sitting across the candle-lit table from him. Her hair was down, her eyes shining with love for him, and he was strongly tempted to force an answer from her regarding his weeks-old proposal of marriage. He held back, for he was a patient man in some things, and he wanted her to be entirely sure about the decision, with a minimum of influence from him.
She sat close beside him on the drive to her apartment, her fragrant warmth being separated from him only by the distance of their clasped hands on the car seat. They'd talked all through dinner, then fell silent while Chuck drove, and it wasn't until they were at her door that he spoke.
"Feel like having a visitor for a while?" he asked, holding her by the arms, and brushing his lips over her forehead.
"It's a working day tomorrow, Chuck."
"You'll make it to work on time. You haven't been late yet," he said, placing small, warm kisses around the corners of her mouth, and marveling at the firmness of her warm body.
"And what time does your plane leave?"
"Seven," he said, and kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were sweet, and he yearned so to taste them further, but, recalling her reaction to a French kiss that afternoon, he refrained. He wanted to feel every bit of that incredibly sculpted body in his arms, but remembering the many times he'd been rebuffed, he contented himself with feeling her shoulders and the small of her back and the upper swells of that utterly fantastic fanny of hers. He wanted to pull her closer to him in order to feel all her charms with his body, but the hard-on that had been bothering him for much of the night was back again, stronger than ever, and it wouldn't do to stab her in the belly with that.
"Really, you'd better go," she murmured when the long kiss ended.
Trying to keep from panting, he said, "Yeh. I really should."
"G'night. Have a good trip."
"G'night. Think of me. I'll write."
"So will I. Every day."
He started to turn away, then impulsively grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her again. It was very fast, but he tasted her lips with his tongue and felt her body with his, and he hurried down the steps two at a time, to keep from going back for more.
Laura remained standing on the landing for several seconds after the door banged shut downstairs. She'd often been very much aroused by Chuck's kisses, but never like this. He'd done it on purpose, and she resented it. He'd taken her by surprise, just when she'd been relaxing her self-control in anticipation of his leaving, and it wasn't fair. His lips still burned on hers and she could feel exactly where his tongue had touched her. Her nipples were still hard as velvet-covered marbles from where they'd pressed against his chest, and inside her abdomen she could feel a warm, wet hollow that corresponded exactly to the size of the long organ he'd pressed against her belly. It was so long. How could she ever get used to that?
She was still breathing hard as she pulled off her suffocating clothes. She felt hot and sweaty and knew she should take a shower before bed, but didn't have the energy for that. She stood naked before the mirror and measured with her hands on her tummy just how far Chuck's penis would go if she married him. The way she felt that night, he wouldn't even have to marry her. If she had let him into her apartment, she'd have let him into her bed that night, and then how sweet it would be to feel his warmth cuddling hers all night long, until he had to rise and fly off on business next morning. That was lovely to think about, but impossible to do, for practicalities existed, not the least of which was worrying about getting pregnant. They were young; they had time before them, and were sensible enough to recognize the practicalities of being in love.
One of the impracticalities of being in love was that of getting sexed up all the time. Now Laura was so aroused that her body was twitching, and between that and the coffee she'd drunk, she knew there was no way she could hope for sleep. She ignored the pretense of vaginal exercise and squatted in front of the mirror to masturbate.
It felt so good to rub her fingers up and down her drenched slit and in and out her oozing vagina, and it looked so good to see herself getting hotter by the moment. Her fanny was almost touching the floor and her nipples were rubbing against her knees as she rocked back and forth on her feet, in rhythm with her fingers working in her crotch. Yes, she could take Chuck's penis. If he was there then, she'd just roll over on her back and he'd slip it right in, with scarcely a ripple of pain. She could take any man, as long as he was good and gentle with her, and maybe even some that were not.
A groan escaped her as she thought of Perry. His evil face swam before her eyes as she thought about taking him, and she fell back on her ass and rubbed her burning clitoris as hard as she could. "Rrrrgghh!" Another wave of unbelievably intense pleasure washed over her and she fell back on her back to writhe upward against her two hands, one parting her labia widely, the other probing and scratching and rubbing within her lovely hot cunt. Chuck wanted that cunt, and she knew exactly why. Perry wanted it too, and though she didn't want to think about him then, she found she couldn't help it as wave after wonderful wave of pure pleasure was hers, and she muttered, "Fuck me! Want to be fucked. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."