"That sells books?" Gert asked.
"Damn right. See, the way I go about it is that these books give little darling Chester an education and teach him all the right and proper things, so that by the time he gets to college he'll be so smart as to not get taken in by all them pinko and red professors. Buy these books, madam, and little Chester will know all about how great a country this is-and he'll be smart enough so he won't even let his hair grow too long."
Gert laughed but Alicia said seriously, "The line works, believe me."
"And you bought a set?" Gert asked.
"Heavens no, but-then I don't have any little Chesters floating around."
Fred agreed. "Of course, for singles I have another approach. I use the biology section."
He opened one of the volumes; a multi-colored fold-out showed a sort of disgusting-looking female trunk, an inside view.
"That sells?" Gert asked.
"Correct. You see I sort of intimate that it's part of a complete course which will allow a woman to understand all about herself-for the purpose of avoiding the embarrassing appearance of a sudden little Chester. Also, I point out that knowledge is the key to contentment. With this chart I indicate she can teach any young fellow exactly where to locate her pleasure points. Then I show her."
"Three fast orgasms and twenty-four volumes sold," Alicia commented. " 'tis truth."
Gert nodded admiringly. "And you said there was nothing sexy about your product."
"It's not everybody who could sell 'em the way I do," he said.
"Let me try," Gert said eagerly. She opened the book to a random page, her eyes falling on a full color portrait of George Washington. "Ah, our first president."
"And, among our presidents, the greatest whoremaster," Fred observed.
"Who's doing the selling?" Gert snapped. "You are, madam."
"So all right," she thought for a moment, smiled, and grabbed his semi-soft cock in her hand. "There now-"
"There now? What's that got to do with Washington?"
Gert laughed. "He must have had one. And I'll just bet one of his favorite treats at Mount Vernon or whatever was having some little old slave girl grab him just like this and play pumpies with him. That's what they called it in those days-pumpies."
Alicia leaned over Gert to look at the printed page. "Does it say that in there?"
"Probably not, but the slave girl later wrote a book called My Years with Washington."
"A real hand-maiden," Fred quipped. Then he gulped. Gert reflected that he may not have experienced as good a hand as hers before. Already his cock had reached full gauge and the tip of it was "Red-see that? Now, you buy yourself one of these books and you can see the Reds for exactly what they are."
"Hey-don't stop!" he said. But her hand was now busy turning pages. "Look-aren't you going to finish this?"
Alicia said in mock confidence. "You're overselling, you know. When a customer expresses satisfaction and willingness to purchase, it's best not to linger, but to close the sale right there and then."
"You sell your way, I'll sell mine," Gert replied.
"What about me?" Fred blurted, staring at his lonely prick.
"You sell your way, too," Gert said, cheerfully oblivious, as his cock spasmed once, then twice. "Ah, Napoleon." She stood suddenly and, moving to the center of the room, spread the open book down on the carpet, face up. She knelt and looked impishly over the pages at the two on the couch.
"How tp sell encyclopedias to frustrated old spinsters, lesson one: Who, my dear, would you like to be eaten by this evening? Washington? Lincoln? He's got a lovely tingly beard? Napoleon? Why not-he's French, you know. Yes, Napoleon, let's try him. Know the thrills, the very chilling thrills that Josephine felt."
Then, falling forward, Gert placed her cunt on top of the one-dimensional color photograph and quim-squished herself down flush to its surface. "Come on, Bonaparte baby, Waterloo me. Eat, Nappy, eat!"
"Eat, hell!" The voice surprised Gert. It couldn't have been Napoleon, but she quickly identified Fred as he continued. "Eat you? I'm going to fuck you." And indeed she felt the tip of a hot cock entering her cunt. He had been swift in his crossing the room and straight on target as his rock-hard prick met her upswing and drove into her, pushing her. face flat onto the carpet. His hands slid under her hips with fingers aimed downward touching her clitoris, beginning a rhythmic motion. His weight was on her back, pressing hard against her buttocks, grinding her breasts into the rough grainy texture of the wooly carpet. She stretched her hands directly out in front of her, grasping a leg of the couch for support. Pushing back as he drove into her, she met him full force, the impact shoving his cock deep inside her. Again now, she contracted her muscles with repeated thrusts, trying to squeeze the life out of the hot organ pumping away at her.
His hands left her clitoris and reached up to loosen her grasp on the couch. Why? She didn't want to let go. It was good this way. And then she saw Alicia standing tall above them, watching them, lust in her wet, dilated eyes. It was Alicia who bent down and loosened her grip on the couch leg. It was Fred who rolled her over onto her side and it was his hands which pulled at Alicia's legs, dropping her to her knees so she straddled them, her hands dangling over their torsos. Fred then grabbed her fingers, pulling her closer down over them, her cunt perched above their faces.
Alicia got the idea. With her long legs angled straight she lowered her cunt onto their upturned mouths. Their tongues leapt at her like cats lapping long-sought milk, meeting at the folds of her vagina, sinking together deep inside her, licking each other and her simultaneously, with Gert now tasting the tongue-twat mixture, smelling the musky earthiness of the combined juices, feeling the body heat, sensing the quivering muscle-strained bodies, seeing the deep black curliness thrust above them, at them, hearing her own and Alicia's and Fred's grunting moans.
Alicia's cunt dove at them. Her head darted at their joined bodies, her tongue licking the length of Gert's cunt, Fred's balls, a hard hot wet tongue lashing out at Fred's cock as he withdrew and entered; her tongue followed the path, trying to get inside with the cock; Gert felt her own spasming muscles forcing the tongue outward, sensing the tongue tracing its pattern from cunt to cock to balls, hot wet licking slurping, drinking in the goodness of their smells and tastes.
Gert's tongue seemed to fasten to Fred's and together as one they slowly, tantalizingly, slid them into Alicia's juicy cunt. They separated inside her each feeling opposite walls of her creamy interior, then meeting again and probing deeper together. As Fred's tongue slid out he bit Gert's lips. She, gasping, sucked deep hard puckering sucks on the vagina pressed to her, and she felt Alicia begin her body-enveloping shuddering, her outstretched arms and legs quivering with the tension of the muscle strain.
Gert knew how it was, knew Alicia's mind was feeling the strain, for she too had his penetrating probing cock, as well as Alicia tonguing her clitoris, all the tactile oral sensations of tongue-involvement. She was feeling a warming satisfaction as her sensations merged and blended and synchronized to become one blinding overpowering surging meeting of her senses. Touch, feeling, smell, sight, sound-moaning groaning sound that she knew was hers but mixed with his and hers, the other her, not sensually aware either of where her her began nor whether their body-shimmering, waving, heaving, thrusting pulsings were hers or theirs, action or reaction.
All she knew was that she was slowly immersing, drowning in these sensations and losing her "self" in the whirlpool. Her back arched and then thrust itself hard against Fred with a final forceful impaling on his spitting, hot, steaming cock. She lay back from him, watching him alone bring Alicia with them. Watching his lone tonguing of Alicia-she had slipped out, why or when she didn't know-Gert lay and also watched Alicia sucking on his withdrawn spasming prick.