Bert Karnstein had never had a woman. Granted, he had always thought of himself as something super-special, megalomania running rampant in his entire family, but hard as he had tried to get a woman, he had been unsuccessful in his short span of thirty years. Considering that he had spent ten of those years in different prisons, it was not too surprising. He had committed three robberies, had been caught each time, and had gone to prison each time. The first time he had served a year of a three year sentence. The second time he had served three years of a seven year sentence, and the third time he had served six years of a fifteen year sentence. However the parole board never seemed to learn, and Bert was back on the streets again, out on parole, this time assigned to Judy Borgen. Judy Borgen was almost certain rehabilitation with this man was futile, but she was going to give it one last try.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bert didn’t know what to expect when he followed Judy Borgen into the run-down apartment building. His mind was on the trim, luscious form of the twenty-eight-year-old parole officer, and he would have given anything if she had let him bang her. Hell! Maybe that was why she had brought him here. He was always the supreme egomaniac, certain that one day he would meet a female who would see in him all the things he saw in himself.
When Judy pushed open the door to apartment 3C, what Bert saw was something beyond what he had expected. This was the apartment in which Ann Mason now lived.
The apartment, though small, was considerably larger than the one-room dump where he was presently flopping. It had a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom with a single gigantic king-sized bed in the middle of the room, looking like an enormous playground. The room itself was painted a garish purple, and there were red, blue, and purple light bulbs in unshaded lamps all over the room.
What really made Bert’s eyes pop was the white-haired woman, obviously not much older than himself, in the middle of the bed. She was bare-assed naked, and she was rhythmically pumping a thick, gleaming white cylinder in and out of the still brown-haired V between her slackly splayed thighs. She was pumping it in and out in time to a tune she was humming.
The steam radiator in the corner was hissing, making the room feel like an oven. Bert took off his black leather jacket, revealing his cheap blue shirt and black pants underneath. Judy also removed her coat, and she was clad in a gray-green dress with long sleeves and a matching jacket. The psychedelic colors in the room made Ann Mason’s gleaming white naked body look good to Bert Karnstein. She lay on the bed, totally concentrating on her lewd manner of self-fulfillment. She didn’t pay much attention to Bert’s and Judy’s entrance.
“Ann,” Judy snapped, “didn’t I tell you not to do things like that? You know, you might damage yourself.”
Ann merely smiled and pulled the slick, shiny cylinder from her tight pussy, and Bert realized it was a long, thick Christmas candle. The juicy pink lips of her clamping cunt seemed to cling to the candle like a sucking mouth, and when she plunged it back into herself, she grunted with a certain satisfaction. From time to time she took a drag from a cigarette, and Judy realized, from the smell of it, it was pure tobacco and nothing else. Ann had no intention of doing anything that would send her back inside.
Today was Saturday, and in the privacy of her own apartment she was able to do anything she wished, including masturbating with a convenient candle. Not even Judy Borgen was able to stop her from doing that, and when Judy had phoned earlier to tell Ann she was coming over with a surprise, Ann had decided to surprise Judy by stripping down and letting the parole officer see her naked body on the bed, this way. She hadn’t expected Judy to bring a man with her, but when the man had come in and Ann had finally become aware of him, she knew what Judy intended.
Bert felt his limp cock solidly lurch in his pants as it began swelling. He stood there, wide-eyed, salivating hungrily and observing just what it was the white-haired woman was doing. She was shamelessly masturbating to a climax. Bert saw the woman was really getting hot now because of the way her pelvis was starting to snap upward on every driving instroke of the candle as it continually vanished between her thighs. She grunted each time she pushed the candle out very slowly, its wetly glistening length shining as she prepared to ram it into her all the harder.
Though Judy shuddered at the thought of touching Bert Karnstein, she knew he wouldn’t really make a move until she did something to let him know it was all right for him to act. He was shaken up when he felt her hand unzip his fly. He was even more shaken up when she reached into said fly and pulled out his small penis, already as long and as hard as it was going to grow, and she began tugging it back and forth, keeping perfect time with the way Ann was fucking herself with the candle.
Reluctantly, the man tore his eyes away from the thrillingly lascivious sight on the bed and looked down at the way Judy’s hand was gripping his cock. The beautiful curly haired woman was grinning mischievously at him with sparkling eyes that looked unbelievable now that she had taken off her dark glasses. There was no question that Judy was a knockout, prettier by far than the white-haired woman with dark circles under her eyes who lay on the bed. Still, the nakedness of the woman on the bed made her look unnaturally sexy, so suggestive of total and complete erotic abandon, that he felt himself drawn to her.
“Well will you look at the present my parole officer has brought me,” Ann Mason said aloud.
Bert Karnstein stared at the bed and the woman lying on it, and he dribbled a little. The white haired woman was watching him with an amused smile on her prematurely pouchy face. She had stopped jerking the candle in and out of her vagina, but with the candle inside, and with her legs widely splayed, he was able to see part of the candle sticking out from the hairy lips of her sucking cunt.
“Come on over here, whatever-your-name-is,” she said to Bert, beckoning to him. “Let’s see what you have between your legs, and then maybe I can spare this candle for another time. It doesn’t look like much from here, but I think it’ll fit.”
As if he were suddenly being tugged by some powerful magnetic force, the man walked away from Judy Borgen and moved toward the woman who was lying on the bed amidst a series of colorful throw pillows. His thinly distended cock was jutting out of his fly, pointing the way before him.
As he neared the bed, Ann rolled from the middle of the bed to the edge to take a closer look at the penis. Prison had hardened her, and because she no longer looked attractive to most men, she had come to the point where any cock, any cock at all, looked good to her.
“Oh, I like the look of that,” she purred appreciatively, and she reached out a slender hand, white with prison pallor to touch the dome-shaped head of the skinny little man’s throbbing penis. It was the second time in as many minutes that a feminine hand had touched his cock, and it took all Bert Karnstein’s willpower not to shoot. Ann gave the tip a sharp little pinch which sent a lightning flash of mixed pain and delight charging through every tingling nerve end in Bert’s shuddering body. Jesus, the bitch really knew how to touch a guy just right. She must have seen him ready to boil over with lust, and instead of grabbing his cock and making him shoot, she had pinched him in just the right place to make the feeling inside him recede. Bert had no idea who she was or why Judy had brought him together with the white-haired woman, but he was willing to bet the broad had already learned more ways of giving and taking pleasure sexually than he would ever learn. The white hair and the young, albeit pouchy face made her look mystical, almost witch-like, and there was that look about her that made him associate her with dark practices and strange, secret rites. Yet she was young, he was sure of that, younger than himself. She darted a quizzical, challenging look up at him from under her grey, arched brows, and said, “YOU tell me, man, do you know what to do with this pecker of yours besides piss?”