Funny I should be telling you this now, but my real name isn't Bull Horton. It is Percy Horton. Think that's funny-right? Tell you something. I used to wrestle under my real name-Percy. It was a gimmick thing. I mean I was a pro wrestler. Spent two years at it right after I graduated from college. I have the build for it. I'm six-feet-two inches tall and weigh two hundred ten pounds and I know how to use all that beef. I'm thirty now and probably not as quick on my feet as I was during my pro days, but I can still make it, if it turns out to be necessary. Mary and I, incidentally, had been swapping with Jack and Jill Burns for six months, or possibly longer. Mary and I liked the idea of having sex with other people, of swapping partners with another couple. There is something curiously interesting about this sort of thing – it seems to prevent boredom while at the same time it encourages feelings of contentment and happiness – and isn't this what it's all about? These days I am an arranger of music (having majored in it in college), doing stuff for about a dozen different rock groups about the country (including one in England). I seldom see any of these kids in person, but only on television. They write and tell me what sort of thing they think they might like to try, name the selection, send me a copy of it, and so on. I take it from there, make the arrangement in keeping with the group's particular style, hire a copiest to make the script itself (the individual parts the different instruments play) and after checking it over, send it off to the group in question. There's good money in this if you know your stuff and if you can keep a step or two ahead of other arrangers. (Don't get the idea these kids can't read music – they can. At least, the ones I deal with can.) It's a good sort of job. Your hours are your own – you can go to bed any time you wish and sleep in late, if you want to. You are pretty much your own boss. All you have to be is good. Good and original. This isn't as easy as it might sound. Some days you don't feel like being all that original, but you have your assignment and you do it and do it right… or you get out of the business.
I had all of my assignments done at the moment and there wasn't much to do except indulge in sex with either my wife or Jill. What a gas it was – having two women – two wives, almost. It was much better than sticking to just one woman, much more exciting.
Mary and I were sitting in our front room watching TV one evening a week later when the phone rang. She went to answer it and I remained in front of the set, watching and listening to one of the newer groups I had recently made several arrangements for. The kids did okay on the numbers, but I heard a couple of minor mistakes that were mine and mine alone. I didn't care much for this. It's annoying to make mistakes and have them literally thrown back at you from a TV set.
Mary came back to where I was sitting and shook my arm. "Hey, honey," she cried. "What's the matter with you – you in a trance or something? I've been calling to you. Jill wants to come over… also Jack wants me to go to their house. Jill wanted me to ask if you were in the mood for her?"
I sat up straight and smiled. "Sure I am. Tell her 'yes' definitely." I studied Mary's pretty face. "That is, I'm in the mood if you are, darling. Are you?"
She brushed at her red hair as she so often did when thinking. "Yes, I think I'd like a little of Jack's whang tonight, honey. Okay, I'll tell Jill to come right over. Will that be all right with you, Bull?"
I nodded and turned my attention back to the set.
She went back to the phone, spoke into it briefly, came back to me and kissed me and then went upstairs. Ten minutes later she came back down and kissed me again. "Bye for now, honey," she said. "Jill will be here at any moment, I suppose."
"Have a good time, darling," I told her and kissed her nose.
She was gone from the house then and I continued to look at the television, now and then rubbing my beard to see if I needed a shave or just imagined it.
Finally, I got up and went to the bathroom, leaving the door standing partially open so I could see Jill when she came to the front door, as she generally did.
I shaved quickly but was no more than finished with it when I heard her knocking lightly on the door. I put on my shirt and sprang across the front room to open the door. It was Jill. She stood there smiling at me for a moment, but I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the house quickly. (There was no point in allowing the neighbors to see her entering the house.) I drew the shades over the windows and stepped back to look at her. She was lovely. Her long blonde hair was parted directly in the middle, somewhat in the manner that the kids do it these days, and it hung down over her shoulders meticulously, encasing her face in a sort of frame. Her large blue eyes were wide open and full of mirth as well as lust. Obviously, she was in a good mood.
"You look great, Jill, I said, and meant it.
"I'm in a real hot, frantic mood, baby," she returned, her eyes burning into mine. "I'm so hot I doubt that even you can satisfy me this time. How about it?
Want to have a go at it, Bull?"
I pretended not to understand her. "Have a go at what, Jill?" Seeing I had left the door standing ajar, I now closed it quickly. "What are you talking about?"
I added for good measure.
She whirled about on one heel like a high-school girl, and when she had made the complete circle, put her arms about my neck and pressed her tummy against mine. Her tummy stuck out and for some reason this reminded me of a female dog in heat, upon seeing a male, thrusting out its twat as if asking the male to enter it quickly. I became hard immediately – there was something so damned wanton about her behavior. I enjoy being with a very wanton type of woman, sometimes. Sometimes? Hell, all of the time. Give me the wanton every time and you can have the nicey-nice girl, though I'm quick to admit that the wanton can bore a guy after a time – but only after a time. Again she pressed her tummy against mine as if begging me without words to stick it into her as far as I could. My rod was very hard now and as I put my hands behind her and pulled on her buttocks, she pressed her tummy against my hard on and moaned.
"God… I'm hot… baby…," she murmured. "Can you think of some different way to give It to me this time?"
I thought for a moment. "How would you like to sit on my lap…?"
She broke in. "I'd like to sit on your free, baby. Oh boy, would I like to sit on your face and rub my cunt across your lips while you tongue me off"
"It seemed to me we did that bit quite a few times last time," I commented dryly. "I thought you wanted to try for something new." I sank down onto a chair and she obligingly straddled me, her dress being forced high on her thighs and revealing the fact that she wasn't wearing panty-hose but the ordinary type of stockings. Seeing her bare flesh above her stockings made me extremely hot and I was ready to sink the shaft in her then and there.
She must have been reading my mind, for she fumbled with my zipper, got it all the way down, and reaching into my pants, grasped my quivering penis with her hand. She pulled it forth and began to jack it in the most maddening way imaginable.
"Hey," I cautioned, "if you don't stop that, I'll blow off all over your clothes."
She glanced at the windows, evidently to see if I had drawn the shades properly and when she noted I had done so, she lifted herself off my lap long enough to pull down her panties. Immediately upon removing them and tossing them aside, she straddled my legs again, and taking my cock in her hand, steered it into her wet cunt as she settled down over me, writhing her hips this way and that until I was in her all the way to the hilt. I could feel a pulse beating inside of her. It was rapid.
"You're very hot, aren't you, Jill?" I asked, knowing, of course, that she was and very much so. "Say something passionate to me, baby."
She kissed my lips wetly, briefly, and proceeded to comply. "Would you mind, sir, if I jacked you off with my cunt. My cunt had a great need to jack off your whang." She held her head to one side much like a puppy dog listening for the voice of its master.
I grinned. "You may indeed jack me off with your cunt, my dear lady. Your cunt, by the way, feels very warm and throbby tonight. Any particular reason for this?"
"You might say, sir," she continued in that same mock vein, "that my cunt is anxious to receive the hot, thick offerings of your honorable prick."
"Whew," I said, strangling with laughter, "what a way to put it. I take it you want the full spray job."
"Yeah, baby, fill me with your gob," she cried, kissing my lips passionately again and this time holding her lips against mine for a long time.
She writhed her hips about and I could feel the tug of her box on my whang. She was actually attempting to jack me off with her cunt. Just thinking about this caused me to release a bit of fluid and when I did so she moaned and kissed my lips wetly.
"Oh… I love the feel of your stuff squirting up me, baby. Squirt some more, a little at a time."
I was about to do exactly that when a loud knock came on the front door. I whispered to Jill to remain quiet until whoever was there would go away. She nodded, but then, womanlike, she spoke. "Who do you suppose it is, baby?"
The knocking had started up again on the door and it continued no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, so finally I told Jill to get up from my lap. When she stood up, my prick, being buried in her box, seemed to follow her for a few inches. I could have brained whoever it was at the door. Probably some damned salesman, or maybe the paper boy come to collect for the papers. I saw Jill scoop up her panties from the floor and put them on hastily while I zipped up my pants, examined the front of them for tell tale spots, saw none, and proceeded toward the door. The knocking had stopped now, but I opened the door a few inches just the same.
There was a girl standing on the porch. She was well-dressed and carried a purse. She looked to be about twenty-one and was decidedly a brunette, a very pretty one, too, I might add.
I smiled at her. "Hello. May I help you?" I sounded like a clerk in a store, but the hell with that. I like to say whatever comes into my head to pretty young girls.
"Hello, sir," she said. "I'm Nora Doans. I'm new in this town and I'm looking for a room, temporarily, that is. I'm one of the new teacher at Hill Elementary School and-er-well, they failed to make any arrangements for me to have an apartment, or even a room for that matter. I… "
"You mean you want to rent a room here, in our house?" I asked with far too much bluntness. Hell, the way she looked, I would have let her move in for nothing immediately.
"I know this is an imposition, to put it mildly, sir, but do you suppose your wife would mind talking to me about renting a room?" She seemed upset and nervous about it now.
I glanced over my shoulder when I heard a certain sound and did so just in time to see Jill leaving the house through the rear door. I was about to call out to her when she turned and winked at me mischievously and then stepped all the way outside, closing the rear door after her. Now why on earth had she left? What caused her to do a thing like that? I knew the answer immediately. Jill wanted me to invite the girl inside and put the make on her. While I was doing this Jill would slip back inside the house and watch me taking the girl. In spite of the fact that the girl was looking straight at me, I smiled slightly – that darned Jill, and her everlasting desire for new kicks.
"My wife-er-" I began, "isn't at home right now, Miss… what did you say your name was, please?"
"Nora Doans." The brunette smiled slightly at him and he saw how breath takingly beautiful she was. Her teeth were absolutely perfect. Her body was stacked like mad. "Nora Doans," she repeated more clearly, as if thinking he hadn't heard her correctly.
"As I was saying, Miss Doans, my wife isn't at home right now, but you're welcome to come in and wait. Naturally, I couldn't very well tell you, you could have a room without consulting my wife. She runs the household."
The brunette smiled and she was even more breathtakingly lovely now. I felt my penis growing hard again and wondered if the bulge I felt at the front of my pants was noticeable.
"Thank you, sir. If you don't really mind, I should like to come in and wait for your wife. May I inquire what your name is, sir?"
"I'm Mr. Horton," I said. "Nickname is Bull."
"Bull Horton. Hmm. What an odd name. It's so… well, what I mean is, it's so masculine. Bull Horton, eh? Makes me shiver."
I thought I had misunderstood her. "Beg your pardon," I said, looking mystified, I suppose.
"That woman, that cute girl who was here with you. Why did she leave?' "She's a neighbor lady," I replied. The term "neighbor lady" made Jill's being here sound rather innocent and ordinary, I thought.
"She was very pretty," Miss Doans remarked. She paused. Then: "Do you mind if I sit down and smoke, Mr. Horton?"
"Certainly not. Please do so," I said quickly.
Nora Doans sat down on the chair by the bookcase, the same one I had been sitting on earlier. It was a low-slung chair and as she settled down in it her skirt crept very high on her shapely thighs. This 'gal was really' stacked. Her legs were just about perfect; she had the kind of legs college boys used to call the "get-between-and-push-type." I would have liked getting between them and pushing – pushing my hard-on inside her twat as far as it would go. I squirted a bit in my pants and this caused me to grimace and smile, both.
"Something funny, Mr. Horton?" she asked as she lit a cigarette.
"No, not really. That is, it's nothing I can speak about." I enjoyed putting it this way. It' amused me.
Her eyes came open farther as she flashed me a strange look. "I was just thinking," she said. "I hope I didn't spoil something nice between you and your-er-neighbor lady friend."
"No, of course you didn't."
"Will you have one of my cigarettes, Mr. Horton?"
"No thanks," I replied politely, my eyes taking in those sexy-looking legs of hers. I would have given anything to be able to poke the head of my dick into her slit and shove.
She crossed her legs and this made her skirt climb even higher. She was wearing panty-hose, but I would have sworn the tops of them were transparent and that I could see through them. Her cunt hair appeared to be much in evidence. I gave my head a slight shake.
"How long have you been married, Mr. Horton?" she asked, eyeing me strangely again and blowing smoke out the side of her mouth.
"Quite awhile," I replied. "You aren't married, are you?"
She smiled and leaned forward. "No, I'm not. I envy people who are, though."
She sighed and smiled again. "Must be nice to… "
I waited for her to finish her remark and when she didn't I said, "Must be nice to… what, Miss Doans?"
She looked away from me quickly, took a drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke out suddenly and returned her gaze to my eyes. "I'm sure you know what I mean, Mr. Horton, without my having to put it into blunt language."
I swallowed. "I think I'd like to hear you put It in blunt language," Miss Doans. What is it that would be so nice?"
She smiled, the corners of her red lips turning upward. "Going to bed every night with someone you love, Mr. Horton, must be very nice."
"It is," I said steadily, "but you don't have to be in love with someone to enjoy going to bed with them. Sometimes, often in fact, it's better not to love the other person."
She smiled, took a drag on her cigarette and snubbed it out. "How long before your wife will be home, Mr. Horton?"
I sucked in my breath and let it out slowly. "About two or three hours I should judge."
Her forehead wrinkled prettily. "Hmm. Two or three hours is a long time, Mr.
Horton."
I grinned. "Yes, It is, Miss Doans."
Do you think your wife will rent me a room? Temporarily, of course. I should have told you that. I'll only want the room until I can find an apartment"
"I couldn't say," I told her. I studied her titties carefully. "My wife might be afraid of you, Miss Doans." I grinned when I said it.
She laughed. "You mean she might be afraid I'd end up in your bed when she wasn't home?"
"Something like that," I said.
"Hmm. Jealous wife, handsome husband. Lonely schoolteacher. Maybe I'd better leave now, Mr. Horton."
I shook my head. "I'd much prefer that you remained, Miss Doans. We can't have a lonely schoolteacher remaining lonely, now can we?"
She gave me a sharp glance. "That sounds like a proposition, Mr. Horton."
I laughed. "Don't you like being propositioned, Miss Doans?"
She got to her feet, but I blocked her path to the door. "I think I'd better leave now, Mr. Horton, if you please."
"Nope," I said. "Not just yet, my dear. You and I have business."
"Business? What kind of business, Mr. Horton?" she asked, her dark eyes burning, perhaps from apprehension.
"Monkey business. That's why I need to have you here with me."
She frowned and bit her pretty red lips. "I don't understand you."
"I said monkey business. You can't leave now, Miss Doans."
She drew herself up a little and looked me straight in the eye. "And why not, may I ask?"
"Because," I told her grinningly, "you're the one who owns the monkey."