William Davis - Blackmailed

They were in the sixty-nine position. Joan had heard about it. It was the classic position of mutual, oral-genital sex… but never would she have thought that she would be doing it… in this bizarre position. God… How did I get into this?

With a swivel-hipped undulation, Carla's vibrantly needful pussy came down to a firm, electrifying contact with Joan's mouth; while, at the same time, her own head nuzzled in between the other's thighs, again, to find her throbbingly sensate clitoris. Her tongue lashed out to lick the pulsing bud with voracious sensuality.

Feeling suffocated, trapped, Joan's first impulse was to scream… but when Carla's tongue contacted the quiveringly sensitive flesh of her cunt, it brought a long, mewling moan of complete, sexual surrender from deep in her chest, causing her to lift her head up against the warm, fleshy furrow above her, her tongue darting out, experimentally to find Carla's hardened little clitoris. Timidly, she licked at it… and felt the shuddering convulsion in Carla's body… that told her more eloquently than words the effect it had on the auburn-haired woman.

Then, flicking her tongue into the moistness of Carla's vaginal opening, she was surprised to find the taste of it slightly pungent and not at all distasteful, and as Carla's tongue plunged in and out of her, below, in imitation of a virile, fucking cock, Joan began to match her, until they had established a mutual rhythm, their tongues a pair of surrogate cocks in their heatedly sensual cunts.

… And, together, they spiraled toward the heights of release, as tongues licked and mouths sucked, hands grasped and caressed, hips ground and mouths gasped and mewled out moans and groans of mutual sex-pleasure.

Suddenly, Joan was mouthing words up into the moist cunt-flesh, between the thighs, gyrating above her.

"OOooh! That feels… s-so good! Don't stop… doing it!"

From below, between her own trembling legs, she heard Carla's counterpointing chant, dim and muffled.

"Eat me! Eat me… good… darling! Eat my… hot little pussy!"

Their bodies intertwined, heaving and writhing, together, mutually giving and receiving, the two women arrived at the apogee of rapture, release in orgasm.

Joan Pearson felt it begin, for her, in the exquisitely shuddering convulsions of her body that caused her to spasm in release, as wave after surging wave of ecstatic rapture broke over her sensation-filled loins, spreading through her in relaxing, euphoric impulses of pure sexual pleasure.

"Aaaaaaaaaaauuuuugggghhhh! III'mmmm cuuuuummmmiiiinnng! Aaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuugggggghhhhhhhh!"

Above her, Carla ground her hips tight against Joan's face, with wild abandon, her voice, mingling with Joan's in an ancient chant of completion and satisfaction that announced the arrival of her moment of rapture.

"Ooooooohhhhh, my Godddddd! Eat me! Eat me! Eat me! Aaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh!"

Carla collapsed on top of Joan, momentarily, then rolled off, reversing herself, again to stretch out beside her, her arms going out to clasp the black-haired beauty to her and clamping her mouth to Joan's in a long, deeply passionate kiss, as the last of the spasming, convulsive waves of orgasm left them drained… and satiated.

"God! I flipped… right out of my skull!" Carla declared with a little gasp.

Joan could only moan, "Oooooohhh! It was… out of this world!"

As Carla snuggled in close to her, her hands beginning to trail, caressingly, over her body again, Joan began to regain some of her composure, and her mind was functioning, attempting to sort out her new options. One thing was sure: she'd have to get away from Carla… go home, where she could really think things through.

"Joan, honey… we could really have a thing…" Carla murmured.

"Carla… Please…? I've got to get home! It's getting late… and I've got to have time… to think…"

"Then… I'll see you, tomorrow?"

"I-I don't know… maybe…" Joan told her, sitting up and gathering up her garments. "I'm really… in a whirl… I can't think straight… about anything…"

Carla didn't press her. She knew it was better that way… but next time…

"Let me give you my address… and telephone number…" Carla suggested, reaching out to get pen and pencil from her purse. She scribbled her name, Carla… and her address, followed by her telephone number and handed it to Joan, who put the scrap of paper, absently, into her own purse.

"You can call me… or come over… any time you want…" Carla added, "because… there's a lot more I can show you!" It was a mysterious promise.

"Such as…?" Joan asked, her curiosity rising.

"Next time…" Carla breathed. "The next time… together!"

The "conference" Arnie drove up to L.A. for was with Jay Ballard. He sat across the desk from the private investigator, while Jay ran down the list of information he had gathered so far.

"I haven't been able to locate Carla Reynolds… yet," he told the boxer, "but she could be using another name."

"Yeah… I hadn't thought of that…" Arnie admitted.

"Now, here's what I've got on Warren Ramsey," Jay said, referring to his notes. "He was born in Idaho… about fifty-years old. Bachelor… at least he isn't married, right now. Good rating with Dunn and Bradstreet… President of a pleasure boat building company… Extensive holdings in electronics… And, this is important! He has a string of race horses… Makes the racing circuit… and is a big bettor whether his horses are running or not… and…" Jay paused, significantly, "he's a fight fan! Attends almost all the important bouts!"

"Which means," Arnie said, thoughtfully, "if he's betting the horses… he's also betting on the fights."

"Exactly!"

"Is he into any of the fight stables… own any boxer's contracts…?"

"If he does… I haven't been able to dig it out, yet!" Jay grunted. "It would sure fit together… and all I'd have to do is connect one of those bully boys with him… and Carla… and we could bust it wide open!" the detective speculated.

"… But, right now… there's nothing to tie him into it… is that right?"

"That's the hell of it… I'm just making a wild guess!" Ballard confessed. "There's not a damned thing to connect him with anything… except that you went to a party, that he gave! Which reminds me… he's a big party-giver… with a pretty good reputation as a cocksman! He's also been involved with some pretty well-known women… in the international jet-set!"

"He really gets around, then…?"

"… And spends money, lavishly!"

"Pays his income tax…?"

"Like a model citizen!" Jay affirmed. "He's clean… absolutely clean… and that's what bugs me!"

"Then… maybe you're on the wrong track… as far as Ramsey's concerned…"

"I don't think so!" Jay snorted. "Here's a rough profile: Money… Horses… Women… Gambling! Three weaknesses… that take money! Lots of it… and I don't think he makes that much money building pleasure boats… alone! There's got to be another source! All I've got to do is find out where the rest of his money comes from!"

"Well… I hope you can!" Arnie said fervently. "By the way I've moved…"

"That's good… it'd buy us some time, while they're trying to find you, again!" Jay observed. "Where…?"

"Corona del Mar area…" Arnie told him. "Here's the address…" He wrote it out for the detective. "I don't have a telephone, yet."

Jay was surprised. "Why the hell did you move down there?"

"That's where Joan wanted to live. She picked the apartment!" Arnie defended.

"Do you mean… she's going to stay here, now?"

"Yeah," Arnie grinned. "She finally got some sense… I guess!"

"… Or she's suspicious…!" Jay suggested, cynically.