Carl Van Marcus - Lady Disk jockey

“Hey — you’re crying! ” he said.

“You’ll think I’m terrible!” Sally Sue whispered. “But — well — something happened to me. I can’t talk about it yet. Maybe never . . . but would you stay with me tonight?”

“Wheeeeewww!” he responded. He knew whatever it was must be really bad. Sally Sue didn’t go around propositioning guys, even if they drove Ferraris and could pop for a dinner that was going to cost two hundred bucks! He gulped and managed to say, “Tonight and any night you want, Sally Sue,” he murmured in her ear. “And this time I’ll be better for you. Promise.”

“It’s not sex,” the long legged dark-haired girl said. “I — I might not even be able to face it. But I’m afraid of being alone . . . not of anybody hurting me, but of myself! ”

“Oh,” Stan said, completely puzzled. “Do you want to leave now?”

“Noooo . . . this is the best thing that’s happened to me in years . . .”

It was well after midnight before the twelve cylinder Ferrari purred away from the restaurant.

“Now just where in the hell could she be?” Terry Claff growled the words and flipped a cigarette from the window of Virgie’s station wagon. “Goddamnit, her car and bike are here. She sure didn’t walk anywhere this late at night.”

“Maybe she had a date,” the little blonde mused.

“Shit, the way we did Sally Sue up last night, she shouldn’t be able to crawl for a week. Christ, between the two of us, she was cumming for hours!”

“Maybe she remembered it all and took off scared.”

“Naw, she wouldn’t leave those damn animals,” he disagreed.

“Well, we have to just wait, I guess,” Virgie said. She reached under the seat and brought out a cigarette pack. “How about sharing a number?”

“Right on,” the teenage boy said. “Prime grass.”

Virgie lit up. The pungent fumes of marijuana filled the car as the joint was passed ritually back and forth. Still there was no sign of the voluptuous older woman.

As Virgie flicked the last tiny fragment of the joint from her jeweled-roach clip she lay back on the seat and her hand moved slowly until her teasing fingers slid between the soft, hair-fringed lips of her young pussy. The long wait, the anticipation of another trio with Sally Sue, had aroused her to the point where her thousands of nerve ends were tingling. She forced her hand under the tight elastic of her sheer panties and let the euphoria of the genital contact blend with the effects of the marijuana.

“Hey, Terry,” she said in her little-girl voice. “You want to ball while we’re waiting? It could be a long time.”

Jeez, but she was cute, and he got a certain thrill out of making a les chick do tricks, Terry thought. Her short skirt was hiked up over her hips and she was fingering herself lewdly. It was a hell of a temptation, but finally Terry mumbled, “No . . . a girl can go all night, but it takes time for a guy to get it up. What I got I want to save for Sally Sue. And anyway, I didn’t think you dug it that much . . . fucking, I mean.”

“It grows on you,” the taffy haired girl said with a chuckle. “But I see what you mean.” With a wriggle, she pulled her panties off and lay back, delicately formed legs obscenely open, the moon shining on the pale hairs of her young pussy. “You could give a little head — partner.”

“Sweet little cunt,” he said as he maneuvered around and went down on his knees on the floor of the car. Eagerly she caught his long hair and pulled his face in between her sleek thighs. His tongue began to burrow into the tender lips of Virgie’s distended pussy and he could hear her sigh in pleasure.

In a way it was a gas, having a sexy piece who would go both ways. Watching Virgie and Sally Sue had really turned him on. And hell, if Sally Sue didn’t show and they finally gave up, well, Virgie was damn good even if she did dig girls. For all her wantonness, not in Sally Sue’s league, but she still gave damn good head. And, thinking of Lorraine, he wondered if he could talk Virgie into kneeling over the seat divider and taking it in the ass. It was small, but he’d never seen any better. Well . . . He speared his tongue into her wetly squirming pussy and heard Virgie groaning with delight.

Stan Oakes and Sally Sue didn’t notice the station wagon pulled into the dark lane opposite the apartment house. They had eyes for nothing but each other. The romantic atmosphere of the restaurant, on top of the gourmet meal, had brought Sally Sue to impatient sexual arousal, yet she was troubled. On this night she had come to really feel something for the tall sandy haired young man, and, within herself, she was afraid that to just go to bed with him would be in a way cheating. Sally Sue could tell he felt more than just an animal desire for her. And if she let things go too far, he might even get the idea he was in love with her.

And how could she let him do that without being totally honest . . . in a word, confessing?

If she could find the courage to tell Stan what she was really like, she was afraid she might lose him. He would never understand. The best she thought she could hope for was that he might agree to some sort of arrangement. That he would agree — she had to force the blunt word into her mind — to FUCK her. Fuck her wildly and often enough so she could keep her lascivious desires in check, not go around corrupting teenagers.

If he would take her on those terms . . . it could be good. She would just have to chance telling him, or she knew she’d never be able to let herself go and cum wildly as she had just the previous night.

And Sally Sue was not sure of just what he was. He certainly had to be more than just a trainee at the station, to support the magnificent Ferrari and take her to the most expensive restaurant for a hundred miles around. Flashing a card, Stan had merely signed the check — another giveaway that he must be well known there — and she’d had a quick glimpse of the total. Including tip, it came to a hundred and seventy five dollars!

In the apartment, the tiny owl and the killer hawk were devouring hunks of fresh killed rabbit. The coral snake was curled into a ball, sleeping.

“Shoo! Everybody out!” Sally Sue said. The owl and hawk flapped through an open casement window, and Sally Sue literally poured the snake after them before closing it. The dog and hunting leopard were already in their enclosure. She turned to see Stan watching with a grin, and with small steps, she walked into his arms and sought his mouth with hers. She couldn’t help but grind her thinly clad body against the heat and rigidity of his loins. She gulped and said, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“I’ve been waiting all night . . . but you don’t have to tell me anything.”

“I do! ” the distressed woman blurted.

“Well, here in your kitchen isn’t the place,” he replied. Sally Sue offered no resistance as he led tier to the bedroom which had been the scene of her carnal lust only hours before. “And clothes inhibit . . . body contact is good for confessing.”

Submissively she stood as with deft, obviously experienced hands, he undressed her. Her dress was cast aside, leaving her tremblingly naked except for her boots and gossamer thin panties. The zippers of the boots whispered and she was stepping out of them. Then, tantalizingly his warm fingers were slowly drawing her panties down the smoothly curved columns of her long legs and she found herself kicking them away as he knelt.

“Oooooooohhh!!!” Sally Sue groaned in mounting anticipation — as she felt his moistly heated lips on her belly. She trembled like a frightened fawn as his mouth moved lower. His breath was hot on the pulsating lips of her hopelessly aroused cunt, and then she felt the burning spear of his tongue delve between her legs, seeking the moistened depths of her pussy. With a groan she spread her legs and thrust her pubic mound toward his face as Stan’s tongue flicked wetly over the button of her rising little clitoris. Her hands grasped his head and pulled him tight to her grinding loins as his hands grasped her tightly clenched buttocks. Sally Sue didn’t know if it was the romantic evening which caused it, or the deft way the lashing tip of Stan’s tongue was probing her secret flesh, but it seemed that within seconds she was cumming, with a great hot flood of her liquid passion poured down the hair-lined channel of her cunt to spill into his wildly sucking open mouth and streak her jerking thighs. With a soft cry she fell back on the bed, legs lewdly splayed open, and joyously, continued to respond to urgently laving tongue.