Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/F/FURLOUH2.TXT

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CHAPTER 2 (FURLOUH2.STY)

     Some of the guys teased me until I finally admitted I had gotten
laid. And blown.
     "No shit?" We were showering, about five of us. "No shit?" George
repeated. He was a big, black man, Seaman First. "Hey, guys, Eddie
finally lost it!"
     Cheers went up and some more kidding. "So how'd you like it, kid?"
George asked.
     I grinned at him. "I liked it a lot."
     "What'd you get, some old bag?"
     "Streetwalker over on Fourteenth, just like you said. About 19 or
so, I guess."
     "How'd she like that big club of yours?" He nodded toward my cock,
swinging under the needle spray of the shower as I sluiced off the soap.
     "She had some trouble with it -- couldn't take it all -- but she
sucked me off a couple of times."
     "I know someone who could take it all," he said, winking.
     "C'mon, George, you know how I feel about that." As soon as George
had learned I was unrepentantly straight, he'd stopped making passes at
me and passed the word to the other queers. Generally, nobody came on
too strong.
     But George still kidded me from time to time. "Can't blame a guy
for trying." He laughed and grinned again. "Anyhow, congratulations,
kid."
     "Thanks."
     I dried off, got into my civvies, signed out and went shoreside. At
the first vacant, functioning phone, I dialed the number. It was
answered on the second ring.
     "Mrs. Tell, please."
     "Who may I say is calling?"
     "Eddie Carr. A Miss Legs said I should contact her."
     "A moment." I listened to traffic overhead on the West Side Highway
for a few seconds. Then: "Mr. Carr?"
     The woman's voice was tense, but not hostile or pushy. "Yes. Mrs.
Tell?"
     "Yes. Wanda said you should call me?"
     "Yes, ma'am. Said you'd like to meet me."
     "Oh, she did? Was Wanda able to take care of you completely?"
     "Mmmmm -- not nearly, ma'am. Left about a third of me out in the
cold." I felt weird talking like this, but -- What the hell!
     "Really?" Her voice had even more tension in it. Now I realized
what it was -- excitement. "Really? Well, Mr. Carr, perhaps we could
have a drink this evening, say about seven-thirty."
     "That'd be fine, ma'am. Where?"
     "Why, here, of course." She gave me an address on East Fifty-Eighth
Street.
     "Mrs. Tell, I have to ask you -- are you still married? Because I
don't like to get friendly with married ladies, if you know what I
mean."
     "Scruples? Good heavens, Mr. Carr, you are not a resident of New
York, are you? Of course not. Midwest, I'd guess. Anyhow -- no, I am not
married any longer. Mr. Tell and I split up a few years ago. I'll be
glad to give you all the sordid details over a drink. Seven-thirty,
then?"
     "I'm looking forward to it, ma'am."
     "Good, because I am looking forward to accommodating you. Good-
bye."
     I wandered around town with some of the other guys for most of the
day. We had lunch at some Greek place in the Village and went up to the
Empire State Building. Everywhere we went, there were good-looking
women. I think there're more good-looking women in New York City then
any place in the world. And all kinds -- young and old and in between,
big and little, white and black and yellow. It was great, and by six
o'clock, I was definitely in the mood for an accommodating woman. I
decided to walk over to the address Mrs. Tell had given me. I had plenty
of time and walked slowly, but still got there ten minutes early. Which
gave me time to have doubts again. For all I knew, Mrs. Tell was some
fifty-year-old battleax. Or a fat, dumpy broad who had to pay guys to
take care of her.
     It was a four-story brownstone with what looked like a roof garden,
judging by the shrubbery and lights I could see from the sidewalk. As I
waited, a limousine pulled up. The door of the house opened and two
fabulously beautiful women, long legged and graceful, appeared. They
were in slinky, formal evening gowns and wore nice jewelry. One was
black and the other was white and either one was enough to break a
natural man's heart. One of them flashed me a quick smile as she ducked
into the limousine through the door the chauffeur held for her. And what
did a night with a babe like that cost? I guessed it was more than a
Seamen-First made in a year to get either of them.
     The limo pulled away and I crossed the street. A moment later, I
was ringing the backlit doorbell.
     The door opened and a maid stood there. "Yes?"
     "Eddie Carr to see Mrs. Tell. She's expecting me."
     "Oh, yes, please come in. I will tell her you are here."
     She closed the door behind me and I looked the place over. I was in
a formal vestibule, dimly lit and heavily carpeted. Everything I saw
sort of quietly screamed MONEY at the top of its lungs. Mrs. Tell might
be a battleax, but she was a rich battleax.
     The maid returned, smiling. She was Hispanic, pretty and had a
really good figure. I guessed she was in her thirties. "Mrs. Tell said
she will receive you in her lounge. Follow me, please?"
     She started up the stairs and I was right behind her. She really
had a good ass, that maid did, and it was twitching right in front of my
face. And she knew it, because when we reached the top of the stairs and
she gestured toward an open door at the other end of the landing, she
gave me a smile and a wink.
     At the door of the lounge, I paused and said, "Mrs. Tell?" The room
was lit only by the light coming in from the street, through the
windows.
     "Over here. Come in, please!"
     A small table lamp went on. The room was big and sumptuous,
furnished with white, modern sectionals lining two walls. The third wall
was taken up by all sorts of electronic entertainment stuff and the one
through which I'd entered was covered with mahogany cabinets. The carpet
was plush and a pale blue.
     Mrs. Tell stood and held her hand out to me.
     Mrs. Tell was a fox.
     "Mr. Carr?"
     I crossed to her, feeling suddenly awkward, and took her hand. It
was small. Hell, *she* was small -- a good six inches shorter than me,
and not even her dark blue jogging suit could conceal the fact that she
couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds.
     "Please, call me Eddie, ma'am."
     "Okay, Eddie ma'am."
     We laughed.
     "And call me Sherry. Can I get you a drink?"
     "Something soft, please."
     "Coke?"
     "Fine, thanks."
     I watched her walk to a cabinet and open it, revealing a little
refrigerator. She scooped some ice from an ice bucket into a glass
retrieved from another cabinet and quickly fizzed some Coca-cola into
it. I was watching her move inside the jogging suit. The material wasn't
heavy enough to be a sweat suit and when she moved, it clung nicely. She
was petite, with a nice, tight body. And her face was lovely. She had
very full lips, big, dark, pretty eyes and a straight little nose. Her
hair was very dark and I guessed she was maybe thirty years old --
probably less.
     She had a great little ass. And that started me wondering if this
was some kind of joke. Wanda was a big girl and she hadn't been able to
handle me; was this little piece of fluff even a candidate?
     She came back and handed me the Coke, then sat at the corner of the
sectional. She gestured and I sat on the other side of the corner. She
picked up another glass and took a big gulp. I could smell the gin.
     "Well, Eddie, I got a call from Wanda this afternoon and she told
me all about you." She smiled. "So Wanda got your cherry, eh? Sweet. And
she told me you have rather impressive endowments." She squirmed a
little lower in the cushion and cross her legs at the knees. I watched
the fabric of the jogging suit drape her calves. Her gaze traveled up
and down my torso, then back to my face. "I've been wet since she told
me." The tension in her voice was growing and her nipples were pressing
the thin material of the jogging suit, rising and falling as she
breathed. "I had to lock my door and help myself out four times since
she called."
     I swallowed.
     She licked her lips. "Let me see it. Please."
     "Just like that? Right here? But the maid -- "
     "She won't disturb us. Please?" I noticed her hand was in her
crotch and she was blushing.
     In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. I stood, unzipped and
pushed my jeans and briefs to my knees.
     "Yessssss...." She put her drink down and slowly folded to her
knees on the floor. Her eyes were locked on my cock. She walked on her
knees to me and took my cock in trembling fingers. Her touch was hot and
my dick began swelling, making up for time lost while I'd questioned her
capacity. She raised my glans to mouth level, kissed it and then opened
her mouth very, very wide and stuffed my prick inside. She groaned as
she began licking and sucking it.
     She put both hands on my shaft and lightly stroked me as she began
working her mouth back and forth over my erecting flesh. She pulled more
than pushed and kept taking more of my cock into her mouth. The knob hit
the back of her mouth pretty fast and I was ready for her to stop and
pull off me. She didn't. She made a kind of throat-clearing noise, bent
lower and angled her head up.
     I could see she had her throat and mouth all in a line. She bent my
cock down so it was in line with her gullet. She pulled me again and I
felt my dickhead slipping into her throat. Her nostrils flared and then
she backed me off a bit. Her tongue was trapped under the meat in her
mouth, but she never stopped fluttering it against my prick and she
never stopped jerking on my shaft.
     She pulled me forward and my knob went into her throat a little bit
more easily. She gulped and pushed herself up at me as she put one hand
on my hip. She kept pulling me toward her. I could feel her throat
swallowing on my cock, the muscles in her gullet squeezing me. Her
throat was starting to bulge out a bit. She had two thirds of my cock in
her mouth and throat before she started backing me off this time. I
thought she was going to pull me back out of her throat. She didn't.
     Instead, she suddenly rammed herself up at me. She took me as deep
as before and then deeper, deeper, deeper -- but slower, and slower, and
slower. She finally had to take her hand away from the base of my shaft,
but because of how much it swells out there, she couldn't open her mouth
wide enough to get more. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she
tightened her throat around my cock and sucked a foot of my prick. I
tried to warn her I was going to cum.
     She knew it, though, and then she did something I'd never heard of
-- she slid one finger up my ass and began pressing something inside. My
dick swelled up and she got a panicked lock in her face, and then I
unloaded inside her. I really came hard, just pouring what felt like
pints of my spunk into her hot throat. After about the fifth big spurt,
she pulled her throat off me and sucked just the glans. She kept
wiggling that finger up my butt and resumed jerking my shaft and Wham!
there came another torrent. Her mouth opened around my prick and the
stuff overflowed her lips even while she swallowed.
     She resumed sucking and never stopped jerking. I fired one more big
load before spurting a half-dozen little ones, real fast. She swallowed
about half of it. The rest was coating her lips and chin and throat and
was staining her top. When she finally let my dick out of her mouth, her
eyes were glazed and her nipples looked ready to pop right through that
thin silk. She fell forward onto all fours and shook. The way her hips
moved, I knew she was feeling something powerful.
     I thought my knees were going to give way. I backed away and let
myself sit pretty heavily on one of the sectionals. My dick was still
fat and long, but limber now and it hung over the edge of the cushion.
She looked up and saw it and came over on hands and knees.
     "I love your cock," she whispered and kissed it. She licked her
tongue under the glans and slowly sucked it back into her mouth. I
groaned, feeling my balls start to fill up again. I wasn't sure I could
take another orgasm like that too soon.
     "Let me give you a show, sailor boy."