Dimly Rona was very much aware she was acting like all those gutter sluts with whom she had been incarcerated for the past eight months, and yet, as repulsive as her enforced cock sucking had initially seemed, her feverishly wracked body was now continually responding with uncontrolled abandon as she realized just why all those other women seemed to enjoy whoring.
The obscene demands put upon her by this parole officer now began thrilling Rona in ways she had never imagined possible. Even if it was shameful and degrading—everything she had been brought up to believe wrong —it was wonderful, and her mouth continued sucking and slurping as her saliva continued dribbling onto her knees. She didn’t even think about the fact that she had first been forced to suck the lust-swollen cock of a man she despised. She was doing it willingly now, actually enjoying it, feeling her own inner thrills mount with every passing moment. This was her way of finding out what she truly wanted to do in life. Instead of feeding the dope habit of addicts, she would work with those who were rehabilitated, giving her body to those men truly trying to overcome their addiction, showing them real pleasure in this world need not come from some chemical, but rather from within themselves. Yes, now she first understood the true meaning of the words, “from within one’s self”.
Hot liquid was seeping heavily from her contracting vaginal depths, trickling shamelessly down her inner thighs, and her clitoris throbbed insistently though it had never once actually been touched. Her orgasm was building, and Rona wanted it; she wanted it more than anything in the world, for this was her reward for having accepted the test that had been visited on her.
“Ggggghhhhhaaaaauuuuurrrrrggggghhhhhlllllccccchhhhhuuuuuggggghhhhhmmmmmphhhhhwwwwwaaaaauuuuuphh!”
she gagged as thrill after thrill wracked its way through her quivering self. Her head bobbed back and forth all the more anxiously now, excited at the pressure his ballooning cock was creating in her gullet as charge after charge of delight continued moving uncontrollably through her quaking body. She was so thrilled by her own feelings, she was totally unaware of the bliss charging through Al Bombannente.
“Christamighty!” he bellowed. “Heeeeeeere it commmmmes… aaaannnnnggggghhhhh… hhhhaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh… aaannnnnggggghhhhhaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhaaaaauuuuuwwwww aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhaaaaaggghhh!” He was there, all right. Thick jets of heavy white sauce began spurting from the hole in the tip of his throbbing cock, shooting relentlessly, continually into the beautiful woman’s wide-open, definitely receptive throat.
At the first blast of the hot semen, Rona was momentarily shocked from her own state of torpor, but a moment later she realized the heavily gushing sperm shooting down her throat merely enhanced the feelings for her, and she swallowed hungrily, needily, gulping, drinking, anxious for more as the rich effluvium of the semen filled her nostrils. Wave after wave of sperm fed her gullet, and she drank unendingly, feeling herself slowly becoming aroused all over again. By the time she was finished and his penis had half-shrunk, she was on fire with need, all over again.
Her head began bobbling on his limp cock, sucking hungrily, and the power of her jaws eventually raised a new erection. But this time Al threw the woman on her back and pushed his penis into her tight cunt, not sparing her virginity, thrilling to her screams as her hymen snapped, while at the same time she began a string of unbroken climaxes that lasted ten minutes—until he came once more.
CHAPTER SIX
Like Ella Montefusco and so many women who had traveled “the same road before her”, Rona Everson became a model parolee. Once a week she visited Al Bombannente in the privacy of his small office and always begged for the privilege of blowing him. After locking the door to his office, Al always complied. Here, in the office, when he came, he had to be silent about it. Luckily Rona always came too, and her gullet was so filled with his cock, her muffled gasps were never heard beyond the room.
Rona Everson not only abandoned her previous habit of helping dope addicts by either giving the dope away or selling it to them at cost, but threw herself into her new role of rehabilitator. She went to work for one of the small clinics that helped those addicted to dope who wanted to break the habit. She used her vagina and her mouth to truly telling effect, and men who had been incapable of potency because of the drug habit, became aroused because of the different sexy ways Rona did things. Not only that, but she made sex so thrillingly enjoyable for them, she was actually able to get more than ninety percent of the men she worked with to stay away from heroin. Considering the normal rate of addicts truly rehabilitated throughout the country was less than five percent, Rona was achieving remarkable success.
When she confided what she was doing, to Al, he told her, “I’m not supposed to hear any of this, so I’m going to forget you’ve told it to me. Just be careful, honey. Unfortunately, the law frowns on such behavior, no matter how good it is, and no matter how much good it does. Just be discreet and pick your addicts with great care.”
“Mmmmmmm!” Rona nodded, her mouth crammed full of his cock.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Al Bombannente wasn’t the only parole officer who rated sex high on his list of cures for parolee ills. Judy Borgen, one of the female officers who worked in the same office as Al, also believed in it. Though she wasn’t the kind who was able to swing bi-sexually, she often worked out an arrangement whereby some of her male parolees and some of her female parolees took out their frustrations on one another. The only thing she insisted on was being there to make sure the male didn’t harm the female in any way, or vice-versa.
Judy was a short girl, well-built, endowed with a pretty face, a charming disposition, and an innate knowledge of people. She had short, curly brown hair, bright, glistening eyes which she hid behind dark glasses so no one was able to see the veiled lust in them, a small nose, a full pair of lips, and a long, slender neck.
At the present time she was trying to rehabilitate one Albert Karnstein, a short, weasel-faced man with a long nose, curly black hair which he kept long enough to cover his stuck-out ears, and a small Hitler mustache which he thought would make his nose look smaller. Bert, as he was known non-affectionately by everyone who came into contact with him, was a three-time loser, and this was his last chance. If he went back in the next time, it would be for good. The only trouble was, Judy was unable to get this across to the five-foot-five-inch megalomaniac.
Although Judy had not used her sex treatment on Bert yet, she decided, as a last resort, if this didn’t bring the man around, nothing would. It went without saying that the thought of such a slimy, pimple-faced weasel putting his hands on her was something she would never tolerate. However, she did have one girl who had just come under her control, and the girl, who was plain, though not unattractive, needed reassurance.
Ann Mason had only one boy friend in her entire life, and he had proven his affection for her by leaving her with some stolen money when the police came looking for him. The police knew the money was in her possession, she was booked as an accessory.
Ann had served two years, and when she came out, her hair had started turning white. She was still slightly overweight, though she had lost a considerable amount of weight inside. Her breasts were soft and lumpy, yet they somehow managed to hold up, and by some miracle her waistline had pinched in, even if her belly was slightly rounded.