"God, you really had some bad breaks," Freda told Tuesday, shaking her head. "After all that, what did you do?"
After Lance was buried (his dick was carefully wrapped and placed in the inside of his coat when they laid him out), and he was sent off, Tuesday surveyed the situation, and concluded that marriage was out forever.
No more Lances, and she would not allow herself to love anybody else. Losing Rick had been a near mortal blow to her. But she faced the immediate necessity of eating.
All told, when it was over, she found less than two dollars in her pocketbook. Eating being the acute problem that it was, Tuesday naturally sought employment where there was food.
"You a dancer?" the manager of the Flaming Poon asked suspiciously. "Where you been dancing before?"
"Well, I haven't danced professionally," Tuesday confessed, "but I'm good at it. Hell, give me a chance, and if I don't cut it, I mean right off, fire me and you don't owe me anything. Just feed me while I try it."
"That sounds okay," he said, "but for a topless go-go gal, you sure ain't holding any heavy tits. Our customers like big-tittied girls."
"They like those freaks with bazooms down to their navels because that's all they get," Tuesday argued boldly. "My tits aren't so big, but by God, they're firm. Hell, some of these pigs you got pictures of out front, would have bugs crawl out from under their boobs if they could lift 'em up. Mine stand straight out. Your customers will like 'em. Just give it a try."
"Okay," he agreed, "but if you don't wow 'em tonight don't come back tomorrow."
"I'll wow 'em," she promised.
And she did. Goddamn! The silly bastards, pitiful shit heads trying to escape their dumb-dumb wives, went right up the wall as soon as they saw Tuesday's body. They whistled and stomped, and demanded to see more of her.
Ha! Maybe, she was a good dancer. Maybe she could go to Hollywood or New York. Hell, guys were the same everywhere. If they went ape shit in one place, they'd be the same elsewhere.
"Okay, okay," the manager said after closing. "You ain't done bad. So we hire you on for say seventy a week and your meals."
"Seventy a week?" she complained. "That won't keep a roof over my head. Hell, man, I got to make
more than that!"
"So make a million," he said. "Goddamn! What we pay you is just to keep you from working for nothing while you're here. If a girl in this joint can't make three, four hunnert a week, she just ain't trying."
"How can I?"
"Don't be a fucking dumb-dumb!" he snapped. "If these guys will pay to see you switch around, hell, they'll pay to see you later. Jesus Christ! You ought to know that a guy who'll pay to see a clumsy ox like you stagger around with those boobs will sure as shit lay out a bundle to take you home with him."
"Clumsy ox?"
"Goddamn, there ain't one of you that can dance a fuckin' lick! Thank God the johns are so stupid! But you can switch your ass around in private, and make all the dough you want. What I'm doing, I ought to charge you to be here. Hell, I'm settin' you up in business, and you ain't got to invest a dime. Now, how can you beat that?"
Tuesday would have blown her stack on two counts, but the mention of three to four hundred dollars a week had a calming influence on her. She resented the hell out of his calling her an "ox" and she was trying not to be a whore, but, well shit, that much money…
"All right," she said, "we'll see, but let me have twenty-five to keep me going 'til the flood gates open and all the big money starts rolling in."
He pulled two tens and a five off a greasy roll which he kept in his pocket. "You've fucked up
tonight. You never sat with the customers when you wasn't dancing. And you been standing here jawing at me. Tomorrow, get out there and be sociable. You'll see how the money floods in."
Tuesday's reception the following night was even more enthusiastic than it had been the first night, but she did not mingle with the crowd. As soon as her set ended, she beat it to hell into the kitchen, and waited 'til the next time.
She still had most of the twenty-five left, and she was not yet certain whether she wanted to sell anything besides her dancing. In fact, her uncertainty prevailed for nearly ten days, and it had a tremendous effect on her popularity. All the regulars had tried her and failed to get even a conversation.
The word was spread. She was young, with a great body, and by God, she was untouchable. The smart cunt hounds swarmed around, each one certain he could put the make on Tuesday, and each certain that she was nothing more than a sheeney cunt, trying to be a smart ass. Really, she was a star attraction, but she still got only seventy a week.
So, when the bus boy brought her a note into the kitchen, which was wrapped around half of a hundred-dollar bill, she decided it was time to emerge from hiding.
Manny McDowell sent the note back, and he held the other half of the C note. "Come out and get the rest of the bill," the note said. "In fact, come out and get a handful of papers with Ben Franklin's picture. I dare you!"
Manny could afford to pay. He was a second-generation wonder, a corporate executive who lacked the business judgment to buy a decent roll of toilet paper, but who had a title, an office, a solid hundred-thousand-a-year income, no responsibility, and a bitchy wife who had let the moss grow over her cunt.
Manny, not much in the office, considered himself to be a terror in bed. Most of his playmates agreed with him. They all liked those pictures of Ben Franklin which he threw around.
Tuesday found that she liked old Ben too, and sent Manny a note back telling him to meet her outside. If she fucked him, nobody would know it but her. She wasn't letting all the idiots in on the deal. He would spread it around, but it would only be his word, and all men lie about the pussy they get.
If she could convince two or three well-heeled guys that she was letting them have it exclusively, she'd be in the chips, and not have to fuck everybody in town.
Manny was practically slobbering when they got into the car. "Damn," he said. "I been there every night, and I thought you were never gonna be sociable!"
"You didn't say the magic word until tonight," she replied.
"What magic word?"
"Ben Franklin."
He laughed. "Hell, I didn't know he was a magician. But I'm glad he is. Uh, whatcha say we drive out to this cabin I got? There's booze and
food there, and nobody will bother us."
"You got the pictures," she said. "I just follow old Ben around I guess."
Again he laughed. Manny wasn't holding a great bucket full of smarts, but he was a harmless sort of rich fuck-up. At least, he was smart enough to make his money and stay out of the way of people who made it for him.
After a ride of about twenty minutes, they came upon his cabin. Hell, it was more like a barn. At least it was big, and it sure as hell did sit in a remote corner of nowhere.
"What's this for, hunting?" Tuesday asked as they got out of the car.
"Yeah, you might say so," Manny said. "I use it to hunt and fuck."
"What do you hunt?"
"Something to fuck," he replied, and laughed again. Tuesday was beginning to like Manny. He was fun.
Once inside the house, Tuesday saw that it was richly furnished and decorated in excellent taste. It was certainly no hunting cabin. It was a love nest, sort of a deep-carpeted cunt cage.
"Oh, this is nice…" she said, with admiration in her voice.
"Go on in that bedroom and get your clothes off," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll be in right away, and we'll see just how many Ben Franklin pictures you want!"
The bedroom was at least twenty by twenty, and there was a huge oval bed. There were also monogrammed satin sheets on the bed.
She stripped herself naked and fell on the sheets. Goddamn, that silky finish was enough to make a girl come. As a matter of fact, Tuesday was at once hot as a pistol. She had not had any cock in weeks and she had been too upset even to diddle her cunt. Now, with a good-looking guy on the prowl, and all those pictures of old Ben… Jesus, her pussy was zinging even before Manny got into the room.
When he arrived, he was as naked as she, and Tuesday was pleased to see his firm, deeply tanned body.
His stomach was flat as a manhole cover, and his legs well molded and strong. Then she fixed her eyes on his cock. Holy Jumping Jesus! she thought. I've got another one!
Manny was well, if not sensationally, hung. His cock had to fight its way out of a massive tangle of pubic undergrowth. Once his prick rose, Manny had a nice-looking cock. But he was not content with his hard-on. He had affixed the most evil-looking tickler to it!
Tuesday, in all her experience, had not been fucked by a tickler, and she had never even seen one up close before. But Manny apparently knew all about the little devices.
His tool was about semi-hard, and he pulled it up, pointing it right at Tuesday. "Look at it," he said. "Look at that Frenchy! Goddamn. I tell you it's something else. Think you can take it okay?"
Tuesday's cunt was oozing at the sight of Manny's body, and she was not disconcerted by the device. It was just that she was wary of all men
who had peculiar inclinations about fucking.
The tickler concealed the head of Manny's cock. There were dozens of little wart-like bumps around the circumference of it. Besides the warts, there were two long yellow feathers rearing out the end, and the whole thing was covered in some sort of white-looking slime. Tuesday wondered if he had jacked off and smeared the come over the tickler to lubricate it.
"Yes, I can take it," she said. "But why use it?" "It'll make you climb the wall," he said. "And the more you carry on and get yours, the more it turns me on… and I might add, the more pictures I can give you for your book.. your pocketbook!"
Tuesday shrugged. "It's your party. How do you want it?"
By then his cock was upright and rigid. "I'll lie on my back," he said, crawling on the bed, "and you sit down on my dick. No. No! Face away from me. I know you think it ought to be the other way, but this is the way to screw with the tickler. I'm going to put it in some places inside you that you haven't even heard about."
Tuesday wiggled herself on top of his outstretched frame, and awkwardly reaching down between her legs, found his cock, and raised it up to where she could insert it into the lips of her cunt. Whatever he had smeared over it was as slick as hot owl shit.
Tuesday dropped his prick and heard it splatter with a wet floppiness against his belly. Then, she recaptured his prick and worked it into the hot
mouth of her pussy. Feeling the heat of his legs against the backs of her thighs had set Tuesday's innards to churning.
God, how long it had been! The touch of hot male meat always made her soar into orbit.
He was no romantic. There was no bullshit manner in his approach. But as she eased his tickler-equipped cock into her cunt, she felt his muscles tighten under her ass, and she knew that he was going to put forth the effort when his cock was seated.
As soon as the head of his cock cleared the snapping portion, of her cunt, he lunged upward with her hips and buried the heavy cock deep in her cunt. Deep? Tuesday had never dreamed a cock could go in as far and not split something. The tickler gave him an extra two inches, and whatever portion of her inner cunt it struck was the touchstone of her passion.
"Oh Jesus! Sweet Jesus!" she moaned. "Whew, put that thing to me! God, it's good!"
"I told you," he said, grasping her by the hips, and guiding the motion of her ass. "Now you quit trying to do the thinking. Just let my hands guide you. You don't want to bury my cock in the full depth and leave it. That rough head I'm wearing will work over every bit of your pussy."
"Okay… all right.., anything you say," Tuesday agreed, trying to coordinate the working of her hips with the pressure of his hands.
She had to admit to herself that Manny put out a pretty fair fuck. He bumped himself up as he drew her down on his cock, and his cock was
rubbing the inside of her snatch with the tickler in a stroke about four inches long.
Tuesday was going out of her mind. It was like having a terrible itch which was beyond scratching. She worked her ass around in every conceivable fashion. She wanted to make certain all of her cunt got the benefit of the sheathed cock Manny was pouring in.
Soon, she noted that Manny was not guiding her as he had started out to do. He was hunching and panting for breath, but he kept only one hand resting lightly on her hip. The other hand… Jesus Christ! He had positioned his left hand right under her backside, and his finger had shot up her ass crack and deep into her rectum. Ooooh! And it wasn't just his finger! Manny had some sort of tickler on his hand and had worked the damn thing straight into her bowels.
Now there was a feeling! Tuesday had experienced some anal stimulation in her time, and she had liked what she felt. But she had not fully appreciated the sensitivity of her asshole until Manny got up there with whatever it was he had on his finger.
At first, she had opened her mouth to scream a protest, but after the initial horror had worn off, Tuesday was pinching her asscheeks together as tightly as she could on the downstroke so that she could feel the roughness of what he was doing against all of her inner rectum.
She closed her eyes. Hell, when Howard and his friends had taken her five holes at once, she had had both holes filled. But then, she had had to be
concerned with sucking a dick and jerking two more. Besides, a slick, boyish dick and a rough-hewn tickler on the fingers of a master fuck artist were grey horses of different colors.
Manny was an artist, a matter of his craft, and if he didn't know shit from Shinola about running a business, he truly had achieved the ultimate in fucking skill.
Tuesday was helplessly impaled on his cock, and she fought back a strong urge to scream and to laugh and to cry all at once. There was also a steadily rising urge to shit. The hand up her asshole was pulling at her fecal deposits, but she was unconcerned. A sophisticate like Manny would not panic, no matter what happened, and she was hoping she would not shit.
She did not. But she did come, It was sudden and unusual.
Most of the time, Tuesday would know a few seconds before that her orgasm was at hand; she would have time to gasp in a good breath and to grind her teeth together and tighten her pussy and asshole. But this time, right in the middle of an upstroke, her come hit her.
She faltered on the way up. Her body tensed and then relaxed, and she was not in control of herself. Her whole being was shaken by a paralyzing shudder, and then a swift chill swept over her.
Manny kept his finger up her asshole, but he tightened his grip on her right hip.
Good God, she thought she might die!
Tuesday wanted to scream. Manny was pouring
the prick into her cunt, and massaging the inside of her tail hole with a great passion. She kept coming, and he pumped harder, and when she had been reduced to an almost senseless mass of whirling ass and twisting body, she was jerked back to the reality of the situation when she knew he was coming.
The tickler prevented the hot soup of his balls from spilling into her cunt, but she could feel the great swell and throb of his cock, and hear the gasping, grunting effort he was making to get his breath.
He had almost fucked the life out of her, but he had paid a hell of a price. He was as shaken as she, and there was no way either of them could conceal from the other what they had been through.
The tremors of orgasm were still running through them both then, when, without warning, Manny shoved her forward and pulled his cock out of her snatch and his finger out of her asshole. She fell to the left and was surprised at his sudden violent movement. But he was not done. In fact, his cock was jumping in its rigidity, and he crawled with it in his hand to point it right in her face.
"Get the tickler off, quick!" he said.
Tuesday reached out to take it, but he pulled his prick away.
"Not with your hand," he hissed. "Eat the goddamn thing off, and then suck!"
Meekly, Tuesday obeyed. She had to force her mouth wide open to take his shielded tool into her oral cavity. But she made it. She gagged and retched a couple of times because the feathers were
down her throat, but she finally managed to hook her teeth behind the wart-covered head, and then she began to suck. It was tough going, but once she cleared the puckering elastic which fitted behind the head of his cock, the tickler slid off easily and she spit it on the satin sheets.
His tool was covered with come, and still drooling as she sucked it deep into her mouth. Manny did not want to be chewed on. He wanted his cock to be sucked! As Tuesday worked her mouth over the slimy surface of his cock, he wrenched his body about. He spread her legs with his hands, dived deep into her muff. Well, she just about did shit!
The fucking with the tickler had given her new and extraordinary sensations. But it had left unsatisfied the old and time-worn needs of a normal cunt. But Manny's tongue, darting in and out of her snatch hole, probing over her swollen clitoris, was giving her that relaxing satisfaction which she knew would soon elevate her to another orgasm.
As she sucked on Manny's cock, she jostled his balls in her hand, and this seemed to make him hotter. At least, he jumped and hunched harder. Tuesday was pleased.
Tuesday had not considered Manny's age, but then she figured he must be in his late twenties. Certainly a time when his potency should be at its height. But there were damn few men, she figured, who would be able to come twice on the same hard-on. Especially if they had been thoroughly fucked on the first go-round as Manny had. But as
she sucked on his cock, she felt it grow harder and harder, and she knew that he would indeed spill his sperm again.
There were gobbling, slopping noises as they ate each other. With their mouths full of cunt and cock, there was no opportunity for, or need for, conversation.
Although she had to work at sucking his cock, she was able to relax and enjoy the feeling which was building in her cunt. It spread like fire through her crotch area, and galloped along her taut nerves until the yew top of her head tingled.
I'm going to come again!
No sooner had this run through her mind when she felt the last surging heat boil up in her loins. She could feel the lust building, and as she suffered the first onslaught of orgasm, she clamped her legs together, trapping Manny's head.
He struggled to free himself so that he could keep his motion going, but she had him trapped, and all he could do was lick and gobble her cunt. It was enough. Tuesday could not have endured anything more.
Meanwhile, she had pushed her head back and removed his dick from the back of her mouth. She knew he was nearly ready, and she rolled the head of his tool about with his tongue while she fastened her lips tightly on the glans. This would extract the maximum from his prick, but she had to make him come quickly. Her lips would soon tire if she sucked as hard as she was.
Ah, but her timing had been great. She felt the hot slop gooing out of his cock and running down
her throat. She did not spill a singe drop of it. She drank his jizm with the relish of a thirsty traveler at a desert oasis.