Charley had brought over two bottles of Champagne to celebrate that night that he broke the news, but I celebrated all by myself long into the night after he left. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get drunk. I think I wanted to just pass on into oblivion.
I was so sick the next morning, and so tired from the little sleep I was able to get, that I called in sick for only the second time in my teaching career. I wanted to get drunk again and stay drunk forever, but I did manage the good sense to do some work around the house after several little naps.
At four o'clock, I had just showered and washed my hair and was lying down on the sofa-bed to watch a TV program, when the door chimes sounded. I slipped a robe over the baby-dolls I was wearing before I went to answer it. I fully expected it to be Charley. I was quite surprised, and even a little pleased, when it turned out to be young Ricky Conover, a not-too-bright sophomore of about 15 or 16, who was in my “introduction to Drama” class, and had shown obvious signs of having a crush on me.
Ricky had bought me a box of candy and said he wanted to drop by and see how I was. I told him I was feeling much better and invited him into the den where I lay back down on the sofa-bed. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been very formal about everything, even though I might liked to have become more involved personally. But with the turn of events, I just didn't seem to give a damn.
I had often thought of Ricky and wondered if his crush was purely affectionate, or if there might not be more to it. He was a big boy for his age and had the reputation of having stolen several “cherries” from girls whose reputations had previously been impeccable. Ricky was a tall and relaxed type youth of quite good looks. His hair was unwieldy and blonde, yet not so long as many of the boys wore theirs.
“I like your place, Mrs. Bryant… and I sure like that outfit too,” he said, emitting a flirtatious whistle as he ogled me.
I had deliberately let one half of the robe slip to the floor as I lay on the sofa. That was the kind of mood I was in. I recalled the time I had seduced another student a few years back, but Ricky was a different breed. I didn't quite know what to do next.
“Are you looking at the outfit, Ricky… or my bare leg?” I asked him very straightforwardly, making no attempt to pull up the robe.
“Gee, I'd sure like to see you at the pool in a bikini, Mrs. Bryant,” he fell to the repartee quite easily, his eyes really devouring my legs in a way that stirred me somewhat. “You could probably show some of these girls at school what a real body looks like.”
“Well… thank you very much, Ricky,” I smiled, bending my leg slightly at the knee. “I suppose I could go rummage through my wardrobe and find one to model for you.”
“You… you mean it?” he said, his face breaking into a broad smile as he gave a long wolf whistle, “Say, I've always thought you were…”
Ricky blushed profusely and began to grope for words. He realized he had almost made a faux pas. I just lay there with a knowing, questioning grin on my face and stared at him. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.
“Go on, Ricky… you doll,” I said with a laugh, bringing up my other leg so that the left half of the robe fell away. “You've stuck your foot in your mouth, I'm afraid. What was it you were going to say? That you always thought I was a hot one? That I must be pretty wild in bed? What was it, Ricky?”
“Well…,” he began hesitantly, his eyes taking in my exposed legs eagerly. “I didn't mean any harm by it, Mrs. Bryant. But everybody says you're the sexiest teacher in the school and you've got a better figure than Miss Lyons, the girl's gym teacher. I dunno… I like you, Miss Bryant. You give me ideas. You get me shook.”
“Still want me to model that bikini?”
“Sure…”
I was having a glorious time with Ricky. The whole episode became absolutely exhilarating once I had decided to go through with it and to hell with the consequences. I wouldn't have a job anyway, I figured, if I had to turn down old Charley Riggs, and I wasn't about to let him go through with that crazy divorce of his.
The bikini wasn't really hard to find, as one of my paying clients liked to watch me walk around in one. It was a real darling of an outfit-an underwired uplift top that practically pushed my breasts out until the nipples peeked from it, and the barest of mini-pants that tied at either side.
When I walked back downstairs into the den, I thought Ricky was suddenly paralyzed. The shock was so great that he couldn't whistle or even make a remark. The only evidence that he was emotionally stimulated was the expression in his eyes. The opened so wide and remained that way, I thought they would fall out of his head.
“Mrs. Bryant…?” he finally managed to get out, gulping and looking very white, then flushed again. “I… I've got this crazy idea in the back of my head that if I… if I walked right over to you and kissed you… and put my arms around you… you wouldn't get mad, you'd let me do that, and… Now, wait! Don't get me wrong. I said I just had this crazy idea. I didn't mean any harm or anything wrong, Mrs. Bryant…”
“You'd expect a lot from me if I let you do that, wouldn't you, Ricky?” I asked him.
“No… nothing else.”
“Oh, I don't mean that,” I laughed at the slight misunderstanding, “I mean at school. Wouldn't it spoil the pupil-teacher relationship? How could I be Mrs. Bryant in the classroom if I had been… Denise to you here?”
“You… well, I'm not a guy who would mess things up for you, Mrs. Bryant,” he promised, taking a step forward as his eyes danced across my near-nakedness, “I know… how important it would be to say nothing. Nobody even knows I came over to see you…”
“Ricky, be perfectly honest with me. Why did you come over here?”
“Because I like you… you're my favorite.”
When he stepped closer, I put a hand back behind my neck and tossed my freshly washed hair to the side. With my other hand, I began to draw small designs, using my fingers, over the exposed tops of my breasts. It felt good. I was thoroughly enjoying the sensations as well as the eager and desperate stares that Ricky bestowed on my body. I giggled a little and felt deliciously evil and sexy.
“Mrs. Bryant…”
“Call me Denise,” I whispered when he came up so very close to me.
“Den-ise… oh, Denise…”
He suddenly threw his arms around me, his fingers digging into my buttocks beneath the mini-pants, his mouth covering mine and his lips pressing to my mouth with the artistry of one who has kissed for a long time in the heat of passion. I opened my lips to admit his tongue and I made pleasant noises as mine meshed with his and I pressed my pelvis against a very hard penis.
“Ricky?” I asked him point blank, pulling away to look him right in the eye, “Do you want me?”
“Oh… oh… damn!” he exploded, trembling nervously as I helped him guide me to the sofa, “Oh, Mrs. Bryan… Denise…”
I unhooked the bra top and took it off as I lay down, then untied the briefs at each side. Poor Ricky was beside himself, struggling to get out of his clothes. I particularly liked the way his hard penis got caught on the waistband of his shorts and vibrated up and down when he pulled them off. He had a small penis, but the pencil-stiffness of it absolutely fascinated me.
Ricky was nervous and clumsy as he mounted me. I fully expected him to go off like a rabbit, and I was anticipating how I would revive him. I already had visions of sucking him back up to erection, and the idea pleased me. But what pleased me more was his performance. To my great surprise, Ricky did not go off like a rabbit.
To my great surprise and pleasure, once he had put his organ inside me and begun the movements, the measured thrusts at just the right angle so that my clitoris contacted his shaft on each downward stroke, the nervousness went away. He brought me to orgasm within less than a minute the first time, and then my multiples started. He lasted with me a full ten or fifteen minutes and our rapport was such that I had no trouble in gauging my best climax to coincide with his ejaculation.
I found myself in a particularly relaxed and gay mood then and, unlike so many of my male friends of older age and more experience, Ricky seemed to know that a girl liked to be hugged and kissed and caressed long after the climax. In a matter of minutes he had revived my interest sufficiently, so that I was eager to revive his.
“Have you ever been with a woman before, Ricky?' I asked curiously, licking his nipples and his belly.
“Not… exactly,” he told me, reaching down to feel my breasts. “When I had a paper route…I guess I was 14, almost 15, this woman asked me inside when I was collecting one night. She only had on panties. She scared me, I'll tell you. Her husband was there too, see, and they wanted to both play around. He sucked me off and she kissed me and all, and then she taught me how to have intercourse.”
“You've got a nice tool, darling,” I said working it up and down between my fingers. “Did you like it when he sucked you?”
“Oh, I'm not a sissy… but I went of!” he said, breathing heavier in anticipation. “It's better if a girl does it.”
“Have you ever had a girl do it?”
“Once… only once,” he said, rubbing my back up toward my shoulders so that my head was gently pushed down farther, “You remember Ellie Warren, that got kicked out of school? That little broad used to suck off guys for a dollar at lunch period in the janitor's closet near the gym. Ha… I got her for nothing because I'd send other guys to her.”
“Ricky… I'm going to suck you off,” I announced very boldly, in a manner befitting my mood.
I could actually feel it stiffen between my fingers when I said that, it excited him so. As I mentioned, he had a small one, larger than a pencil, of course, yet that is what it reminded me of. I enjoyed the feel of it, and inside my mouth it was like nothing I had had before. He made a few noises as he came, but it was nothing like the more powerful and grateful passion of an adult male.
I couldn't help but enjoy myself with Ricky, however. It was an experiment, a new and different kind of experience, and I wanted to make the best of it. I had him stay for supper and let him drink two beers, and I had just a very pleasant and wonderful time with him. It was so intriguing to be with a youth like this in and adult situation.
Later in the evening, I made him excited again by letting him play with my breasts and kiss them. I had a very strong urge for him to have rectal intercourse with me. The size of his penis would have been just right. The idea absolutely fascinated me. Yet there was something within my strange conscience somewhere that forbade me to do it. I don't know why I should have drawn the line there, but I did.
I went down on him again and he seemed to try to hold off. When I asked him why, he said he wanted to have regular intercourse to orgasm. We did and I enjoyed it even more this time, although it was nothing really special. I would have preferred to suck him until he came and swallow his discharge. There was something about doing that to Ricky that gave me a great deal of psychological as well as physical pleasure. I was at a loss to explain why at the time.
“I want… well, I'd like to know that I can come visit you again like this,” Ricky asked me as he was leaving, “Maybe in the afternoons sometime when we both need a little, huh?”
“Ricky, this could become a problem if we're not very careful,” I began talking realistically, evidently not recalling that I was probably on my way out anyway. “We'll have to be very careful. In addition to everything else, I have a jealous boyfriend, and my daughter… will be home for the summer very soon. You can call me sometime… as if you wanted to come over about the school drama club. If it's all right, I'll tell you to come over.”
“I love you, Mrs. Bryant,” he told me in a nervous whisper, then kissed me on the cheek and left.
I sat around thinking about Ricky for quite a while, dreaming idiotic dreams about how nice it would be to take a boy like him and make him into a really satisfying lover, train him to please me in every way as often as I liked. I toyed with the idea very pleasurably for some time and came up with some pretty wild fantasies.
We were alone together driving the freeways and stopping at motels and staying at beach resorts. Whenever I felt in the mood, I would take off my clothes and say, “Ricky, I want you to go down on me.” or “Ricky… backside… in easy now.” I fancied myself as using him as a Virtual slave to my passions and reveling in his adoration of me as a basically sexual animal.
It was during this reverie that the telephone began to ring and brought me back to my senses. My first thought, of course, was that it would be Charley wanting to come over and make love. I was definitely not in the mood for that. What I wanted to do was take a long perfumed bath and then a drink or two and go quietly to bed and purr to myself with impossible thoughts of Ricky. Not that I was serious about him. The ideas just seemed to be pleasant and comfortable.
“I'll be in town there most of the summer,” were the words that came over the phone as soon as I answered, “I want you to prepare for my staying with you. I mean, tell the neighbors and the boyfriends that your real lover has returned.”
“Bob?” I said with a touch of surprise and shock when I realized who it was, “You… you've got nerve you haven't even used yet. I'm sorry, lover, you'll have to try your routine on one of your other shack jobs.”
“Denise, I have had a very rough two years,” he lowered his voice and began to speak with that pseudo-sincerity of his. “This comes straight from the heart, Denise. You have never been out of my thoughts. I think by now that Kathy must have confessed to her preposterous lie. She's a much more mature girl now, and I would hope that you have also reconsidered and are more appreciative of what I tried to do for you that summer.”
“I'm getting mar…,” I started to tell him, planning to say that I was really going to marry Charley, but then I cut my speech short as a brilliant idea suddenly occurred to me, “Bob… you've had to play roles, do a lot of acting and all in your work, haven't you?”
“My dear, I have been posing as fatuous and stupid American tourist in the East for two years!” he yelled at me. “Of course I do a lot of acting. Now, what is this sudden professional interest in my acting ability?”
“Bob, could you pose as my ex-husband…?” I asked him, very excited by the plan that was forming in my mind. “Bob, I have a problem with this man. I can't afford to just ditch him. He's an important man locally, and the chairman of the school board. The idiot wants to divorce his wife and marry me. But… if you could pretend to be my ex-husband…”
“Very well… very well,” he answered before I had finished, exasperation coming through in his voice, “Yes, I'll bail you out of this mess. Of course, I can play the part. Just you don't forget that my name is Bob 'Bryant'… or does he know your husband's name was Mai?”
“No… that's fine. You'll be Bob Bryant,” I agreed readily, feeling so wonderfully relieved of a monstrous burden. “That's good, isn't it. I mean, so long as I can call you Bob… I'm not likely to slip up.”
“Well, of course, you stupid bitch!” he railed at me unpleasantly, realizing I was at his mercy now, that I needed him desperately, more than he needed me, “Do you have a pencil and paper?”
“Well… yes…”
“All right, take down this address,” he ordered me, “Lincolnia Motel Courts and Golf Club, Paso Delta, California. Wire me three hundred dollars first thing tomorrow, and I'll be there tomorrow night.”
“Three hundred dollars?” I shouted, “Bob… my bank account is probably overdrawn now… and I've got less than forty dollars in the house…”
“You'll get it,” he snapped. “Just don't take too long.”
And with that, he was off the phone. I thought of asking Charley for the money, but that would have been too much. I mentioned before that I do have a conscience. I don't know how it figures in, but there are some things I can't do. That was one of them.
In desperation, I called up Bill Britten and he came right over. He seemed sympathetic to my problem, and provided thirty dollars of it right on the spot to watch me sit down and expose myself, then masturbate with a vaginal vibrator he had brought with him. I had used vibrators before, but this was something different. It had a self contained battery and motor inside a plastic dildo. It took a long time for it to work me up enough to orgasm, but the sensations were enough to orgasm, but the sensations were terrific.
Bill said he knew of a stag party that was going on at a lodge out in the country. He thought I might be able to get three hundred from the men there, if I would agree to anything and everything. He called them up, but they told him there would have to be two girls along for that kind of money. I didn't know what to do, until Bill suggested Cindy.
She was willing to help me out so long as I would come see her more often, or if I would pay her back two hundred dollars. It was the first time she had ever been so businesslike with me, and I knew why. It had been my fault for ignoring her practically except when I was lonesome or had a problem.
The stag party was a pretty awful experience. There were about ten men there, and when we arrived they had just finished looking at some sex films. They fought over who would be first, and more than once, just as I was beginning to enjoy intercourse with a man, someone else pulled him off. When things quieted down I sometimes had as many as three or four men working on me at once.
For Cindy, it was all work, as I am convinced that her only real pleasure came from being with a girl, no matter what she said. For me, however, I must admit that the attack by several men at the same time was wonderful, although sometimes awkward and difficult.
I recall lying on the bed while one man had regular intercourse with me and another got on his hands and knees over my face and put his huge penis in my mouth. As the others gathered around, I took two of their penises in my hand. A big fat character then suggested that I could also accommodate a man backside.
I lay on my back atop this skinny fellow named Andy. He had a wart on the end of his penis that was the subject of much joking, but it was long and slim, was the reason for his choice of the back position. I straddled him to begin with, while my anus and his penis were thoroughly greased with some kind of cream they had. We had to work at it a few moments before he could gain penetration.
“Ow… no!” I recall screaming as he inserted very deeply. But in a few moments, the pain and shock subsided and I lay back a little, supporting myself by putting my hands down on the bed beside me. Another man then came up between my legs and attempted to put his penis in my vagina. At the same time, the big fat man stood on the bed straddling us and I put his penis in my mouth and began to suck it.
There was a problem with the man who was trying to put it in my vagina. The man under me moved down farther so that I could lean back more. Finally, I received both of the men in the adjacent entrances between my legs. However, the positions were so uncomfortable that intercourse was next to impossible. The fat one was the only man satisfied in that three ring circus.
Cindy and I Were asked to make love as they watched. No sooner did we start, than the men were crawling on the bed with us. I was on top, so I received one of the men from the rear. I also had competition with going down on Cindy as two other mouths fought for the same goal. What I found most enjoyable in that was the sensation of receiving the man in my vagina from behind as Cindy licked around us.
This was one of the most disgusting and yet memorable episodes of my naughty, naughty life. I only remember Andy by name, but if I ever see one of the others again, I shall have no trouble recognizing him.
When I attempted to tell Bob the next evening at the airport how I had managed to get the money together, he merely snapped, “I don't want to hear it!” I presume that he had an idea of what I might have been through and he did not want to admit to himself that it was he who had been responsible for it.
We were both dead tired that night, so I was not too unhappy that he seemed in no mood to make love to me. Psychologically, it would have given me a lift, but I did not need sex. Instead, we spent most of the time talking about how we would work our little plot on Charley.
The next day was Saturday, and when Charley came to see me at two in the afternoon, we were ready. I played the role of the confused woman to the hilt, while Bob acted the part of the slightly peeved ex-husband. Poor Charley. He actually broke down and cried. There was no problem with him, really. He bowed out gracefully and muttered something about hoping his wife would take him back.
The confrontation with Kathy was fairly smooth too. She apologized to Bob for the lie she had told me, but what really hurt was the look in her eyes that she directed to me. We talked about it the next day when Bob was out on one of his mysterious “business” trips.
“I'm afraid of him, mother,” she insisted with dramatic seriousness. “He just gives me the creeps, and after all you told me he had taken you for… why did you let him come back?”
“Please believe that I had a very good reason, dear,” I asked her, noticing with pride how more beautiful and lovely she looked than last year even. “I don't think there's anything for you to worry about, dear. You admitted yourself that he never really did anything to you.”
“Oh, yeah… but you could tell he would have liked to,” Kathy said with a feigned shudder. “I know that look in a man's eyes when he wants to have sex with me. Like… I was riding the subway last December when we were in New York. This funny looking little man with real squinty eyes kept pushing against me until I could feel his thing get hard, Mother. I looked around and his eyes glowed with rape just like Bob's do sometimes when I'm in baby-dolls or shorts.”
“What happened after that… on the subway?”
“Eee-yuk!” she spat distastefully. “The creep licked his lips and pushed up closer to me in the crowd and then zip! He ducked out the door just as the subway was ready to pull out of the station.”
“Bob would never do anything like that,” I told her, and I believed it.
“No… not exactly,” she agreed, but added, “He does other things though, like in the bathroom. He left the door open when he was shaving and I was sitting on the stairway talking to Mary yesterday. I could look right in and see him. That was gross, Mother. Honestly. He was shaving so calmly, using both hands… and this thing came out of his shorts just like a snake, I swear. It flopped out and then it started growing and lifting up… zoo-oom! Oh, I thought it was a riot…”
“When was that? Yesterday morning?” I demanded, suddenly outraged. “Was he looking at you? Tell me?”
“Well… no. He wasn't exactly looking at me,” Kathy admitted, more in a laughing mood about than anything else. “But he knew I was there. He could hear every word I was saying to Mary. I had even said 'Hi' to him when I sat down to phone…”
I felt worse than some cheap whore. Bob had been making love to my daughter by proxy. This time, I knew it. There was no doubt in my mind. I remembered only too well that I had been making up the bed in our room when Bob finished shaving the day before, and he came in with an erection and took me by surprise, telling me that he was suddenly inspired to make love. It had been a wonderful session… until I found out the reason why.
“You still have this fixated idea, don't you?” was his reaction when I confronted him with it that night when Kathy had gone out, “You still have this incurable inferiority complex, this idea that you are incapable of arousing me while your daughter is.”
“Don't… don't try to fool me anymore, Bob,” I protested, shaking my head as I sat on the side of the bed and watched him casually begin to undress. “You let Kathy sit there and watch you get a hard on! You were excited BECAUSE she was watching you! Maybe what she was saying on the phone to Mary excited you I too! Bob, you…”
“Shut up and listen to me!” he almost lost control of his temper, grabbing me by the shoulders. “When I walked out of this bedroom to go in there and shave, I carried with me the vivid memory of your naked body in bed next to mine. Two minutes before, you had taken my penis in your hand, kissed it, and looked at me with that lustful expression of yours and said, 'Mm-mmm, I like him. Don't keep him away from me too long,' isn't that correct?”
“Yes,” I had to admit.
“And before that… when we first woke up, Denise, you had taken my hand and placed it between your thighs to show me how wet you were! Right?”
“Yes, of course, but…”
“I'm a man. And like all men, I have a hard on when I get up, but I need to go urinate, right?”
“Yes.”
“So I went to the bathroom and did just that… WITH THE DOOR CLOSED!” he emphasized, releasing his grip on my shoulders and walking over to the dresser. “After that, if I may acquaint you with a few biological facts of the male, I was not erect, because I had to de-tu-mesce in order to urinate. Now… I put my organ back into my shorts and I opened the door while I was shaving. It has been common practice for me to do this, right?”
“Yes… we've become like a family… Kathy sees you in your shorts…”
“Kathy spoke to me as she walked by or something,” Bob went on, lighting a cigarette. “It was early morning. I was hardly even aware of her. My mind was much more taken with what I had just left in the bed-you! You do recall that you have expressed a desire that I shave prior to intercourse?”
“Yes…”
“That was the reason I chose to shave, my dear,” he brought his point dramatically home, “My entire mental concentration was on you. I was thinking of coming back into the bedroom here and making love with you… that, my dear Denise, is why my penis erected while I was shaving! Why… why do you punish yourself like this? Why? Denise, you are a very sexy woman!”
“Will you… forgive me, Bob?”
How can I describe the rest of the summer except to say that it was a series of similar incidents? In looking back, it appears that these things came in regular cycles. Bob would make love to me on night or one day until I was literally exhausted. His staying powers were almost superhuman, it seemed. This would be followed by a period of deprivation, and I would think that he was never going to make love to me again. There would be the flirtations with Kathy too, and I realized more and more how two-sided they were. One night, I walked in on them unexpectedly while they were watching T-V in the den. They were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, but Kathy had one of her breasts out the front of her baby dolls and it looked as if she was rubbing the nipple. I know Bob was watching, although he denied it. I felt his erection as soon as I sat down.
Before I knew it though, summer was over and Kathy was gone. I felt more confused than ever. It was almost as if the continual crises presented by the Bob-Kathy problem had been a way of life, a kind of replacement for the hectic swinging and part-time prostituting that kept me going before.
But Bob managed to introduce other intrigues. He would be gone for days or weeks at a time, then suddenly reappear in the middle of the night from out of nowhere. He took my car on most of these trips and ruined it in a wreck in Georgia that March. I saw the accident report listing a 29-year-old woman and a 14-year-old girl as occupants of the car. “The family of one of our men killed by the Commies,” he explained. And at the time, he made me believe it. When I was away for the state teacher's convention in April, I thought it would be Tuesday before I returned. We adjourned a day early, and I found a woman's suitcase and clothing in our bedroom when I arrived at the house. I didn't know what to do. I was actually afraid to stay there and face it when they both came back. Instead, I stayed overnight in a motel.
“Yes… I slept with a woman while you were gone,” Bob admitted without batting an eye, when I told him what I had seen. “Denise, I think this is something that you can understand… please listen. You may remember that I told you I was dispatched to Georgia to break the news of my best friend's death to his widow. It was a tragic thing. Her husband was fine boy… both of them from the country… code of the hills type people… married when she
was 14 or 15.
“While you were gone, the poor woman came up here and contacted me. Denise, I have never known a more natural and sincere woman. I knew her husband as a courageous young man who died at the hands of Communist torturers and murderers. She… she came up here and contacted me for one reason, Denise. I was Ed's best friend. I was not a part of their life together in that small Georgia village. But the woman was headed toward a nervous breakdown unless she had sex. I was her only trusted point of contact. The woman could not just go out and pick up any man. It had to be me, because I was a part of the secret life that no one else knew of. Her husband was a covert agent, you understand.
“Yes, Denise, I had intercourse with her seven times during the 18 hours she was here. It was not by my choice, but a humanitarian thing that I did. You know what it is to be lonely and starved for love, Denise. Don't you?”
“Yes, Bob. You… did the right thing,” I found myself saying. “I'm glad you did…”
My life became a cat and mouse game. I too began to stray when Bob would be gone for long periods of time. I was afraid to see anyone at the house, but I met Ricky sometimes at a motel on the other side of town, and Bill arranged paying dates for me with men in the hotels occasionally. He also took me to more swinging parties and bought me an entire wardrobe of exotic lingerie from that famous place in Hollywood.
One night, he took me to a neighborhood bar he frequented. I wore no pants, as he had instructed, and I would allow generous views of my thighs and crotch to men at the tables as I sat at the bar stool. Bill would go over and talk with the men he knew, telling them I had on no pants and asking them to watch when I turned to face them.
Later, we went up to one of the men's apartments and they all took turns with me. Again, I enjoyed the situation very much, particularly since none of the men were averse to kissing and licking my body. Sometimes, there were four or five working at the at the same time.
While we were sitting around drinking and just leisurely feeling each other, the man whose apartment we were at brought out a set of photographs for us to look at. Actually, there were several groups of pictures, each in a separate envelope. The first set were of the two girls and a man doing just about everything. Another group contained two girls together, there were some of twin sisters and their pet collie, and another of a girl using a vibrator and various kinds of dildoes on herself.
“There here are the greatest,” the man announced with pride, spreading the set out in front of everyone. “I took these myself when I was stationed over in Germany after the war. See? This gal here is the mother and this is her teenage daughter. For a carton of cigarettes, I got them while the other watched. The mother helped me get it all the way…”
I excused myself and went to the bathroom and threw up, refusing to recognize the reason why. Kathy was due to arrive the following Monday for her summer vacation.