When his cock jerked from her silt she had one quick glimpse of its reddened thickness. Roger was still semi-hard, despite the shattering force of his ejaculation. Slim, shapely fingers closed upon the wet length of his pecker, guiding it to a pair of lips whose strawberry tint was smeared. Denise kissed away the lingering traces of cum, laying it off with her pink tongue, before she took him into her mouth. Her cheeks pulled inward as she threw on the suction, and Connie's flickering eyes did not miss the passionate jiggle of Roger's balls as the man's rod began to grow afresh in Denise's mouth. Perhaps this had begun as an effort by Denise to screw her way into a movie role. It was something else now. If the girl was still acting, then she was an incomparable actress and deserved the success for which she lusted.
Connie threw her face into Denise's crotch and began to lick away the pearly buds of cuntal ooze that glistened on the reddish-blonde pubic hairs. At the same time she felt Roger's hand invade her own crotch. A finger slicked into her raw, aching vagina, alerting her to the fact that she could easily endure a fresh go-round. She squirmed against his finger as she nibbled Denise's cunt, and she felt his thumb sliding between the sweat-moist cheeks of her ass. Sucking in a breath, Connie spread herself. His thumb prodded her anal opening, flirting with her tight sphincter. In a moment more her rectum was sucking up his inserted thumb. Only a thin wall of internal tissue separated his digits. They diddled her in tandem, and she could feel the tips almost touching inside her. The sensation was incomparable, and she humped eagerly upon his hand.
Up above, Denise was swallowing Roger's re-hardened cock in greedy, Linda Lovelace fashion, moaning as she nursed the penis toward a fresh ejaculation. Part of her whimpering was due to the action of Connie's mouth on her cunt, but Connie was doing her full share of moaning too, with Roger's hand playing a concerto of sex on her intimate flesh. It would be a long, and certainly an interesting night.
CHAPTER NINE
"Ring your ass off, you motherfucker!" Stacy Talbot growled angrily, pulling the sheet over her head. It was probably that pervert cocksucker again anyway. Three times she'd gotten out of bed to answer the phone, and each time, after saying "Hello", she'd heard in reply only a moment of breathing. Some freako who got his kicks panting into a phone. Screw him! The phone rang eleven times and she cursed at it with each jingle. It stopped. Stacy sighed in relief. Rrrriiinnnggg! Six more fucking times, and at last it stopped. This time there was no replay.
The only trouble was, she couldn't get back to sleep.
It had been a delicious night with Ellen, making love over and over till they fell into a dreamy, sexy sleep, but by that time it was after four and Ellen had a nine-o'clock call in the morning. Stacy saw her friend off, then went home to catch up on her rest.
The apartment was empty when she arrived. Mom apparently hadn't gotten home yet. Well, that was only to be expected. The last time Stacy had seen her mother she was with Roger, and when those two got it on – she didn't expect Connie before evening, if at all. Why in the fuck her mother didn't let Roger move into the apartment Stacy couldn't begin to guess. She balled the guy, and she loved it. Why didn't she just shack with him? Didn't she know that this was 1976? It was okay to live together.
Like she and Ellen were going to do, Stacy mused. She hoped Connie wouldn't be too hurt. They'd still see each other, of course. They were too tight to break up. But Ellen was somebody special, and Stacy could love her without having to share the privilege. It was the perfect situation. Connie could make it with Roger, and Stacy with Ellen.
She threw off the covers and lay glowing naked atop the bed. End of the week they'd move in together, but not in that scungy building near the Village. It was a bad neighborhood, even for. New York, and with two ladies sharing they'd need more room anyway. Tomorrow she'd check out the places advertised in the Times.
Oh, that fucking telephone had mined any sleep she might be getting. The sun filtered through her window and cast arrows of light across the room, and even when she tried closing her eyes Stacy just didn't feel like dozing any longer. It was almost noon anyway. Time for a new day to begin.
Not bothering to dress, she went into the kitchen and put Mr. Coffee on to brew. While her coffee prepared itself she set half a dozen strips of bacon frying in a skillet. The pleasant smell of food and coffee filled the room and Stacy heard her stomach growl happily in reply. A sizzle from the bacon just missed burning her tit and she stroked it protectively. She hated to wear clothes, indoors or outdoors, but there were occupational hazards to nudity all the same.
Stacy was just finishing her noon breakfast when she heard the front door open, and she went running to greet her mother. Stacy's head was full of the revelation she had to make, and she hoped Connie wouldn't be too hurt to know that her daughter was planning to leave the nest.
"Missed you," she said happily, swishing through the beaded curtain which doored the way between kitchen and living room, and then she stopped short. The person who had just come into the apartment wasn't her mother at all.
As Stacy stared at her brother Gerry she nearly forgot that she was naked, and by the time she remembered her mind told her it was too late to cover herself, and hypocritical besides. So she stood easily in the doorway. "So," she said. "It's you."
He was scarlet, his head angled away from her. "Jesus, Stace," he muttered. There was accusation in his voice, as if it were his sister's fault he had entered the place without notice and caught her naked. Fuck him! she thought angrily. Connie still hadn't gotten over the cruelty of her son's parting words to her and Stacy could not forgive Gerry for the state in which she'd found her mother that day.
She stepped into the room, bare and unashamed. She had a good body. God had made it naked, and who was Stacy Talbot to flout divine authority? "What are you doing here?" she snapped. "I thought you made it pretty damned clear what you…" Still not looking at her, he broke in, "I didn't know anyone was here. I called, and the phone just rang and rang. Look, all I dropped by for was to pick up some things I left in my room last fall. A couple of books, some clothes, a few personal items. Jesus Christ, Stace, would you put something on? This is embarrassing!"
"Then don't look," she shot back. "Go get your things. But you'd better hurry. I don't know when Mom will be back, and I sure as hell don't want her to see you."
He sidled away from her, down the hall, into his room, and she watched implacably as he went. Gerry was tall enough to play basketball, though he didn't, and she supposed that some girls would find him cute, though she didn't. He was a horse's ass. God, she thought, how did we ever wind up in the same family? Strike that. He wasn't in the family any more. He dealt himself out when he turned on Connie and rejected her out of hand. Stacy saw no need to be kind or sisterly toward him. She'd never been crazy about the asshole, and this was no time for her to start. God, let him get gone before Mom got back! If Connie was in a good mood, Gerry could get her right out of it. Stacy knew that her brother would say something foul or disgusting and cut down Connie like a hunter drops a bird.
It wasn't for his sake but for her own that she darted into her room and grabbed up a bathrobe, tossing it onto her body. Only people she liked were entitled to see her body, those and the cinema fans tasteful enough to pay admission to Hooker's Holiday. But any wino warming a back-row seat in a Times Square theater meant more to Stacy than her brother did.