Wilma Freidman - Sorority Affair

After a short period for recovering of the climax, the girls were still in the grip of passion, once it had started. Linda welcomed the heat she felt deep inside her naked body. The four tried many variations of sexual positions, but there had to come a time when the four of them were just an exhausted tangle of sweating flesh, all desire satiated. Linda found herself emerging from the haze of lust into a cold and revolting reality. She glanced around her at the obscene display, then dragged herself from beneath the weight of flesh, of the two men who lay partially across her and partially across her sister. Lois moved also, struggling to free her naked body of the men.

"Everybody happy?" Marsha asked from her chair.

The reply of the men was a pair of exhausted sighs.

"Then, you four get cleaned up. I'll mix some drinks and then we talk business."

After a quick shower, Linda joined the four in the living room. She had chosen a robe that was thoroughly un-sexy. She sat on the living room couch with her legs curled underneath her buttocks. Now that the heat of, passion was gone from her tender body, she felt a sense of revulsion growing in her steadily. She didn't want any part of what her mother was planning, not in this wild, profligate manner of gratifying her sensuality with just anyone.

"I want to make some money," Marsha said flatly, watching the reactions of the two men. "Not just a little money-a lot of it."

Jud blinked, then laughed shortly, "Hell… who don't?"

"All right," Marsha said. "You can make some, too." Jud looked interested, and his little eyes narrowed in his doughy face. "What you got in mind?"

"I've been gathering some data," Marsha said.

"Did you know that over six hundred men work at the factory? Six hundred and nine to be specific and all we need is ten dollars from each of them. Every two weeks… every payday."

Bernie straightened in his chair. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about selling chances," Marsha said.

"Chances?" It was the eleven-year-old Linda who said this. "Chances oil what?"

"Chances on you two," Marsha said calmly. "At ten dollars a throw."

For a minute, ‘the room was totally silent, then Jud stirred, whistling softly. "Now I get' it," he said.

"Well, I don't." Linda uncurled her legs and sat up straight. Her face was knitted in childish irritation. "What do you mean, Mother? I wish you wouldn't be so damned mysterious."

"I've got it all worked out." Marsha waved the notebook in her hand excitedly. "I've got it figured backward and forward." She stood up and began to pace the room. "There's always some kind of raffle going on out at the factory. Somebody always selling tickets for a chance on a car or boat or a years supply of lubricated rubbers. All right why don't we get in on that? Why don't we sell chances, too? Chances on my two beautiful daughters."

Linda stared at her mother in amazement. "Are you serious, Mother?"

"You bet your fucking little ass I am!" Marsha's voice was crisp. "I'm serious to the tune of over thousands of dollars every two weeks. Look it works like this. Bernie, what's your idea of heaven?"

"Heaven?" Bernie frowned. "Well… I guess to… to be shacked up in a nice hotel somewhere for a weekend. with a beautiful, hot-cunted girl. One who'll flick, suck, or any other flicking thing I want… and of course have all the liquor I can drink."

"That's it," Marsha said. "It's every man's idea of a woman… or heaven. And the way I have it figured, at least five hundred of those swinging cocks at the factory ought to be willing to gamble ten bucks every two weeks for a crack at something like that… even at odds of fifty to one. What do you think of the idea, Jud?"

The fat man was hanging on the edge of his chair, his round face flushed. ‘Why… why… it would be a goddamn natural!"

"Yeah," Bernie blurted. "Yeah… I see it now."

Marsha looked quite smug and proud of herself. "I thought you would." She turned to her two daughters. "You two still don't get it? Well here's the deal; we lease a… house down at the beach for the summer. It'll cost us about a hundred or so a month-the house I have in mind. It's small, only one room… we pay Bernie and Jud a few hundred each, to sell tickets for us. We furnish transportation, food, and liquor. Say a total of fifty a week. All right… we sell five hundred tickets at ten bucks a throw… that's over four thousand dollars every two weeks. There will be two lucky winners… they get to spend the weekend at the, beach with you two, all expenses paid. We raffle ourselves off every goddamn two weeks-don't you see?" She smiled broadly.

Lois was eager, but Linda stared at her mother, amazed at the cynical simplicity of the idea. And at once the two split parts of her psyche began to clamor. She thought it was a wonderful idea, one part of her mind thrilled. It's wrong and disgusting, the other part said.

The man was squat and shaggy, a gorilla wearing clothes who wrestled huge gears and bearings around the warehouse. His forehead was a great crest of bone that nearly obscured tiny, deep-set eyes, and he was barely articulate. But this huge man knew what he liked… he liked tender young girls! When the pitch was given to him, those little eyes lit up, flashing with interest. His thick, loose lips grew moist, and his giant, hairy hands clenched and unclenched.

"Think about it," Bernie whispered, urging the man. "Just think about it. You've seen those two little beauties now and then. You've seen those ‘delicious little titties the oldest girl has. Imagine, Roscoe-imagine being about to just swallow one of those sweet tits… or maybe feeling that little girl pussy of the young one. Hey, man… those two sweet darlings will do any goddamn thing you want, too. You just ask them… they'll do it. Shit, man, want a blow job? That little one can suck your balls dry and still come back for more. Ain't a chance at that worth ten bucks?"

"Uh… yeah," Roscoe grunted. "Yeah. You think I might win, huh?"

"Shit, yes… you got as good a chance as anybody."

The measure of Roscoe's interest was evident in his next words. "You can sell me more than one chance?"

"Sure, buddy… sure. You can buy as many chances as you want. Only ten bucks each. But you better hurry." Bernie looked around furtively. "There juicy little girls are in a big demand. I ain't got many left."

Roscoe pulled out his worn wallet and extracted five tens, handing them to Bernie. Bernie took out a printed booklet, tore out five numbered slips, passed them to Roscoe. "Hang onto those," he cautioned. "The winning number will be printed in the personal column of the morning paper on, Friday. Nothing else… just the number. If you got the winning number, you bring the ticket to me. I'll handle all the arrangements."

"Newspaper? I don't read newspapers."

"Well, no matter how much it strains your brain, you look at the newspaper Friday morning. We can't post the number anywhere here in the plant. Somebody would catch on."

While Bernie was making his rounds in the shops, Jud was walking through the drafting room; a roll of blue-prints under his arm, trying to look as if he were there on business.

After a while, he found the man he was seeking. He caught all the other draftsmen at coffee break, and his pockets were stuffed with money. They had leaped at the idea, making a riotous and obscene joke about the, whole bit. Most of the men had bought at least two tickets. The only one he'd missed was that new fellow, George. Now he was catching him in the corridor and blocked the man's passage. Quickly he explained to the man about the raffle, describing the two girls and what they would do for him.

George was in his early forties, a chinless man with a weak mouth and even weaker eyes behind thick glasses. His body was thin and stooped, his chest nearly concave. He listened closely, and when Jud finished his speech, he shook his head.