You want my coat for a pillow? said Jimmy.
Nicole shook her head.
All right then, he said, get down on the floor.
The kitchen floor was black with dirt. Nicole lay down on it and raised her legs to make her cunt so nice and tight for him, and Jimmy stood over her watching the groping of those legs, which were speckled with boils and lesions, until her left ankle came to rest on the chair that she had sat on, while the sole of her right foot had to be content with bracing itself against Jimmy’s refrigerator. Her breasts lay limp on her belly, as round as the faces of polished brass pendulums of clocks. Jimmy stood enjoying her for another moment, liking the way she looked as she lay there between the refrigerator and the wall, brown-skinned and almost pretty, with a white plastic cross between her tits.
Are you Catholic? he said.
Yes, Nicole said.
Jimmy strode around naked except for his socks, inspecting her cunt like an emperor. This was the best part. Nicole gazed up at him and pulled the lips of her slit taut and up to show him the ragged pear of pinkness inside, and her cunt-lips glistened under the kitchen lights with the brightness of metal foil. – Your pussy is just like a flower, [9] Jimmy complimented her; all the same he did not want to get his face too close to it. He got down on his knees; he leaned his weight on his arms as if he were doing pushups (for Jimmy was always a gentleman who would not hurt a woman with his weight); then he stuck his penis into her. She had told him that he was her first date of the night, but her cunt seemed to be full of something viscous like come or corn syrup. Maybe it was just the lubricant she used. Anyhow, it stank. She had great black spots on her thighs that might have been moles or more probably the subcutaneous hemorrhages of Kaposi’s syndrome as Jimmy well knew from his profoundly intellectual studies. Every time he thrust into her she grunted. He could not tell whether this was because he hurt her or because she did it to excite him and so get it over with faster. He did not feel that she hated him and her body was trying to expel him; more probably she just endured him and trusted to the frictionlessness of the corn syrup or whatever it was to protect her from being hurt by his thrusts (in direct proportion as his sensation was diminished), but the corn syrup did not much work anymore to soothe that red raw-rubbed meat between her legs, so Nicole just tried not to think about what was happening and grunted at Jimmy’s every painful thrust and bit her lips whenever he grazed an ovary. She gripped his balls tightly all the time so that the rubber wouldn’t slip; she dug her fingernails into his balls, either by mistake or to make him come. But after thirty seconds Jimmy knew that he wasn’t going to be able to come. Maybe if she’d just sucked him off he could have done it, but what with the rubber and the stuff in her cunt he couldn’t feel much. Jimmy fucked and fucked until he got bored and then told her that he was done. – Call me, he said politely. – Later his prick started to itch, and he worried about disease.
THE NEW FIANCÉE by N. T. Morley
Meredith got home from work around midnight and discovered the beautiful woman sitting in the living room. It took her a moment to register her surprise, especially given the casual comfort with which the woman sat on the couch sipping a glass of red wine. The woman, a strikingly tall and quite breathtaking ivory-skinned brunette, was very dressed up – much like Meredith herself-as if she were about to spend the night at the opera, or had just finished doing so. The woman’s dress, long and black, was slit on both sides almost up to her hips, revealing the full length of her shapely legs. The dress was also low-cut and showed that the woman had quite ample, perfect endowments. Perhaps in her midthirties, she was strikingly beautiful, her jet-black hair and pale skin accenting her rather Nordic features.
‘Hello,” Meredith said nervously.
“You must be Meredith,” said the woman, without getting up. She looked Meredith over quite blatantly, not even trying to disguise the up-and-down motion of her eyes that focused first on Meredith’s face, then slid down her body, then slowly stroked upward to rest on the single slit in Meredith’s dress – not quite as high as that in the strange woman’s dress, but more than revealing enough to show what shapely legs the girl had – then continued up to take in the slight swell of Meredith’s small but perfect bust. Meredith felt her face getting hot as the woman’s eyes lingered over her breasts, then slowly rose to meet Meredith’s gaze, fixing her with a hungry stare.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” said the woman.
“Ah, Meredith,” said Phillip, appearing from the kitchen with a Scotch in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “We’ve been waiting for you.” He topped off the woman’s drink and sat down opposite her on the big white armchair, propping his feet on the coffee table quite indelicately and taking a sip of his Scotch.
“You remember me telling you about Yvanna, my ex-wife?”
Meredith gave a shiver.
“Please, Phillip, former wife. Ex-wife sounds so unfriendly.”
“We’re anything but that, my dear,” said Phillip with a lustful glance at Yvanna. He then looked at Meredith with the kind of lascivious sense of ownership he always gave her when he knew he would soon prove just how profoundly he had his new fiancée under his control.
“With our wedding date set, I figured it was time for you and Yvanna to get… acquainted.”
Again, Meredith shivered. She saw Yvanna’s eyes flickering over her once more with the immodest gaze of the heartless seducer suddenly set loose upon an ingenue, and knew immediately what was to be expected of her.
As if to assert her independence, Meredith quickly assessed Yvanna’s body, attempting to display the same kind of unrepentant randiness that the self-composed woman showed toward her. She could see the older woman’s sensuous curves, the firmness of her full breasts capped by hard nipples tenting the thin fabric of the black opera dress. Meredith let her eyes caress those perfect tits, knowing that within moments she would be called upon to touch them, kiss them, perhaps even suckle them, before being bidden to travel further into depravity and perform services foreign to her. She knew she would be expected to touch the woman lower down, between the slits of that dress and, without a doubt, underneath the dress itself. That, she could not even comprehend; her head spun at the very thought of it. It was all Meredith could do to look at the woman’s breasts and know she would soon be touching them. But those bright green eyes of hers did not linger on Yvanna’s ample tits; on the contrary, Meredith let her eyes drift upward to Yvanna’s piercing, frosty blue gaze and, unable to keep up her facade of self-confidence, whimpered softly and dropped her eyes submissively.
She could feel her nipples hardening under her dress, standing out plainly through the thin satin, as if advertising to the woman the effect she was having on her.
“That’s a very nice dress,” said Yvanna with a smile, her eyes lingering on Meredith’s chest. “I hear you’re a hostess at a chi-chi restaurant. I’m surprised they let you wear a dress like that. Much less without a bra.”