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October 1947

By: Grouchojim



I met James Dennis at a nearby café and, after coffee and doughnuts; we walked two blocks to the train station and waited for the train to arrive. 

I should take a moment to describe Mr. James Dennis to the reader. He was a tall, well-favored young man, dressed to the nines in tight-fitting dark brown slacks which were pegged at the cuffs in the current fashion favored by the under twenty-five set. He topped them off with an expensive camel's-haired sport jacket. He could easily have passed for a male model in a cigarette ad found in popular magazines or billboards along the highway.

While not a homely man myself, I wore a casual pair of corduroy slacks, along with a tweed sports jacket that had seen better days.

Dennis had purchased first class tickets which caught me off-guard. I hadn't thought of him as a big spender, but here he was picking up the tab, not only for the train ride to New York City, but for World Series tickets, which as one might expect, are very difficult to come by any year. But this year with an inter-city rivalry between the Yankees and Dodgers obtaining tickets was almost impossible. Yet he was non-plussed about the whole thing, even though he had yet to come into possession of the ducats.

"I have some influential pals," he said and left it at that.

Moments later we boarded the train and were led into the first class compartment, where we found that we were the only passengers.

Dennis queried the conductor and learned that we would be the only ones in the car until Trenton, and even then there was the possibility we would remain the only ones in the car. This was unheard of in my traveling experiences, but then most of that had been just prior and after the war when traveling by car was difficult since gasoline was rationed.

Just about a minute before the train pulled out, I saw two women scurrying along the platform, trying to board the train. I presumed they were mother and daughter because of the disparity in their respective ages. The younger woman was striking in her beauty and I couldn't keep my eyes off her.

To my surprise, only the younger one boarded the train; this I knew for a fact, for the train began to move and the older woman ran a few steps after the train waving to the younger woman. When I turned to mention it to Dennis, I found that he'd not only seen them, but had left the compartment to seek out the woman.

I was astonished when Dennis opened the door to our compartment with the young woman in tow, prattling on about how we would welcome her company and it was not at all unbecoming for her to join us.

Ushering her into the seat facing us, he presented me to her first and then introduced himself. "James Dennis, at your service, Madam, you may recognize my voice as I am heard on the radio twice weekly announcing the Pall Mall Hour on WQAN out of Scranton."

"Well... yes, I believe I have heard you, Mr. Dennis, and I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Shannon. Oh, but let me introduce myself. I'm Beatrice Stringfellow. Um, that's Miss Stringfellow," she said, and then appeared stricken with shyness as she sat back in her seat and stared at the floor.

"You may want some reassurance that we've not kidnapped you by whisking you out of the common compartment to join us in first class, but I want to assure you, Miss Stringfellow that we have only the purest of motives in doing so."

I chimed in with, "They may appear to be selfish motives, Miss Stringfellow, but I do believe that while Mr. Dennis has acted on impulse, his intentions are honorable."

"Of course my motives are selfish, Miss Stringfellow. I couldn't bear to share your company... your beauty with the common ilk that sits in the passenger car beyond that door."

Dennis continued along this avenue, with lie following lie and if I were asked to support just one word of his I couldn't venture to say how I would answer as I considered it all drivel. I had to ask myself if he had been plying me with more of the same in talking me into joining him on the foray into the city.

It seemed evident that Miss Stringfellow saw through his charade too, for after a while she said: "I... I... really should go back to the general seating. The conductor..."

"The conductor will say nothing to you, Madam," Dennis said smoothly. "It's all taken care of. Consider yourself our guest. Why you're far too pretty to be sitting amongst the rabble."

"Oh they're not rabble, Mr. Dennis, not at all."

"I know, I know," Dennis replied, his oily tongue gliding over her protests with an ease that amazed me. "But we certainly welcome your company, and find the cost of a first class ticket a bargain if it allows us to enjoy your presence for the trip to New York City. You are headed to the city, are you not?"

"Um, yes I am, Mr. Dennis."

"Wonderful! We shall lunch together, then.

And as fate would have it, the conductor made an appearance, Dennis made a show of paying for Miss Stringfellow's first class ticket and gave the man another bill or two to secure lunch for the three of us.

Twenty minutes later we were eating Cobb Salad and drinking a very good white wine. Miss Stringfellow no longer made any protest about moving back among the rabble, as Dennis succinctly phased it, and appeared eager to share her life story with us.

It seemed she was going to visit her sister, who resided in the Bronx. Her sister's name was Lizbeth, and her husband was stationed in Germany and this opened a new stream of conversation dominated by Dennis.

For the record, having defeated Hitler, we occupied Germany, sort of. Actually, the victorious Allies split Germany into four parts: The British got the West, the French got the highly industrialized Ruhr Valley, The Russians got the East and the US got the South, principally Bavaria. Goals for the occupation were varied: those who had been conquered by the Nazis wanted an impotent agrarian Germany; the United States wanted a neutral self-governing democratic version of the dynamic industrialized Germany before the Nazis. Each of the occupying powers was territorial and for the time being each of the four sectors or "zones" was almost a separate country. The only "universal" in the Germany of 1947 was that the American cigarette was accepted everywhere in lieu of currency.

American goals were to de-Nazify and rebuild the country, which we certainly were striving to do, despite the resistance by the Russians every step of the way.

Miss Stringfellow's brother was a sergeant in the United States Army and had written his wife about the obstructionist policies adopted by the Russians in the Eastern Zone.

Dennis offered his opinion on the matter, and I had to wonder how he had become so well informed. "We'll be at war with the Ruskies before long," he said, startling Miss Stringfellow and myself.

Being a journalist, and having kept abreast of the world situation, I was quick to challenge him. "My God, Dennis, how could you say such a thing? You've caused Miss Stringfellow unnecessary alarm with this preposterous statement."

A bemused expression crossed Dennis' face, but he was quick in his reply, "Unnecessary alarm? I doubt that. We have every reason to mistrust the Reds. We shouldn't underestimate them either. Their goal is fairly obvious. At least it should be to our military men, and of course Harry Truman's seen Stalin's mind work up close."

Miss Stringfellow was nervously nibbling on a corner of her dainty hanky as I objected again. "Where are you getting this... this drivel, Dennis? I haven't seen anything in the press, or heard Winchell utter a word about it."

"What I'm getting at is the obvious differences we already face with the Ruskies: Currency, German Unification, Soviet War reparations, and mere ideology are among the many differences the two sides have. Of course I'm lumping France and Great Britain in with us. The Russians won't compromise on anything. That, my friend, has been reported in the press and on Winchell's show. They really want us all out of Berlin. They see it as the key to taking control of all of Germany."

His reply left both Miss Stringfellow and me speechless. Seemingly satisfied with himself, Dennis settled back in his seat and lit up a cigarette.

Miss Stringfellow appeared flushed and began to squirm in her chair. Dennis noticed it immediately and said, "But now, you must be exhausted, let me show you where the powder room is. You can freshen up there, my Dear."

"Oh, there's no need, Mr. Dennis," Miss Stringfellow murmured as she peeked out shyly through her lashes at both of us.

"But I insist. Even though the powder room is at the end of the compartment any number of things might befall you if I didn't provide you with assistance."

Miss Stringfellow blushed under his effusive words of gallantry and stood up awaiting his "assistance" in walking the aisle to the powder room some thirty-five feet from where we were sitting.

Dennis shot me a grin that told me many things. Foremost was his mentioning that we might get laid in New York. I suddenly recalled Miss Stringfellow's deliciously innocent eyes, luscious lips, and pure complexion. And as I watched her lithe body traverse the short distance to the powder room on Dennis' arm definite scenarios ran through my mind. But the moment Dennis disappeared in the powder room on her heels; I was up and moving to the powder room myself with a secret smile on my face.

When I opened the door to the powder room, Miss Stringfellow was standing and Dennis was already seated and patting the seat next to him. He saw me enter, but did not acknowledge me.

Miss Stringfellow fussed with her dress and then sat demurely next to him on the settee and fiddled nervously with her white gloves.

Finally, having run out of things to fiddle with, she looked sideways at Dennis, I believe she also saw me standing there, but she didn't acknowledge me either.

"May I call you Beatrice, Miss Stringfellow?" Dennis inquired.

"I suppose you may," she replied.

"I would appreciate it if you would then call me by my first name, James," he said.

"James... yes, I suppose I could."

They conversed quietly for a few moments, while I puzzled as to why neither of them had deemed to recognize my presence in the room with them.

I heard Dennis say, "So, Beatrice, did you leave a boyfriend, or a special friend back home?"

Beatrice blushed and shook her head, "Oh, no, after my sister got married so young, my mother wouldn't permit me to see anyone, anyone at all."

It occurred to me that Dennis had begun a seduction and was determining how best to approach the extent of Beatrice's sexual experience. 

I studied her as he asked his next question.

"I can't believe... you've no boyfriends, as beautiful as you are?"

"I don't... no, no... no boyfriends," she stammered. 

"Well perhaps there was a boy who lived nearby that you had a crush on... someone who caused butterflies in your nether regions, perhaps?"

"Mr. Dennis! I don't appreciate your taking that tone with me."

"It's a simple, honest question, Beatrice. Everyone meets someone who causes such feelings... down there," he added, pointing at her crotch to emphasize his point.

She responded weakly."Oh, no, no... nothing like that." Her voice trailed off. Dennis, sensing something, pressed her a little more.

"Surely, my dear, there was some boy that caught your eye? After all, a girl as pretty as you, I'm sure many boys flirted with you." He smiled a cat's smile at Beatrice.

Beatrice didn't understand why Dennis was being so persistent, but a childhood memory had surfaced at his question. "Well, actually..." she stopped for a moment, started to mumble an excuse then jumped up from the settee just as the train hit a curve and caused her to stumble toward the sink just outside the commode. She had no idea that I was also in the room with them, and barreled into me. I managed to catch her before she plunged face first into the large oval mirror behind the sink. 

Beatrice looked up at me, stunned. My yes followed hers and saw that I was clutching her right breast with one hand and her derriere with the other.

I was terribly embarrassed and began an apology, but Dennis cut me off, and took her into his arms in more of a hug than an embrace, cooing soft words into her ear. The next thing I knew the three of us were seated on the settee with Beatrice between us. And she began talking as if nothing had happened.

"Well, there was my piano teacher, he was so nice and kind to me, and I think maybe I had a little crush on him." Beatrice admitted finally. Dennis put an arm around her shoulder and winked at me. 

"See my dear, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" 

Beatrice was still too stunned by what was happening to her to react. Dennis took her hand in his free hand, and said soothingly, "Don't be so bashful, Beatrice, having a crush is perfectly normal. Why, if you didn't have crushes, you'd be abnormal. Everyone has them, it's what you do about them that matters." 

His eyes gleamed at Beatrice mischievously, inviting her to laugh along. A moment later they were giggling together. Suddenly, Beatrice turned a delicate shade of rose and announced that she really must allow us to excuse her.

"Whatever for, my dear?" Dennis asked softly, leaving no choice to reveal her reasons to us.

"Um, nature," she said. Then standing up, added, "Nature calls."

"I didn't hear anything," Dennis said, causing me to guffaw and Beatrice to giggle inanely.

"Mr. Dennis, you don't understand, I came into the powder room to... to take care of business. I didn't expect both you gentlemen to accompany me. Now if you'll please excuse me," 

"Oh, you have to pee," Dennis said, and you could have heard a pin drop.

Beatrice's rosy cheeks brightened into a deep red as she nodded her head and held up a fluttering hand. "Yes."

"Right there, then," he said and shooed her into the stall and actually closed the door before she could.

"Lock it please," he said, taking charge before she summoned up the courage to request we leave the room entirely.

I had never witnessed anything like it. In fact, I was speechless, and remained so another minute. There was the swish of rustling clothing followed by the unmistakable sound of a woman urinating into the water below her hind quarters. Beatrice definitely had to go. Her stream of piss went on unabated for a full sixty seconds, possibly longer. I was beyond counting.

Suddenly, we heard her bleat out, "For heaven's sake, there's no toilet paper in here!"

I pulled a handkerchief from my breast pocket and held it over the partition. "Please, make use of this anyway you see fit."

She plucked it from my hand and I heard a muffled, "Thank you, Mr. Shannon, I appreciate your generosity in my time of need."

"You're welcome, I'm sure," I replied and glanced at Dennis who was trying not to laugh. The toilet flushed and a moment later, Beatrice reappeared, went to the sink, washed her tiny hands and came back to the settee and sat between us again as if nothing unusual had just happened.

Dennis reached into his hip pocket and produced a flask. He opened it with a flick of the wrist and tendered it to Beatrice. "I think we should celebrate our good fortune in meeting one another," he said. "It's really remarkable when you think about it."

To me his words were almost meaningless, but to Beatrice it was as if he'd thrown her a lifeline when she was sinking into the ocean's depths.

Beatrice wasn't even paying attention as she gulped down the finger of brandy. She spluttered as it burned a hole down her throat. "There, there," Dennis patted her back, even reaching around to gently rub her tummy, as though he could take away the sting of the potent alcohol. With a gasp, Beatrice jerked away a little bit, but his hands caged her in.

"It's alright, Beatrice, we're not going to hurt you. You're perfectly safe with us. Rest assured no one will come bursting in on us." That said, he gave me a warning glance that told me to remain quiet for the time being, and I did. But my cock had begun to stir at the possibilities before us.

I must admit that not once during this episode did I ever think of Belva. I am ashamed of that to this day, but I would still have been a willing participant to what followed regardless of my feelings for Belva.

Beatrice turned big, liquid eyes up to him. "Oh, Mr. Dennis... it's very improper for you to..." For a second I wondered why Beatrice had stopped in mid-sentence then I saw my partner's hands sweeping in widening circles on her back and tummy.

"Now, now," he repeated soothingly, as though his actions were completely normal. "Lean back just a little, my dear, the brandy may have been a little much for you."

I realized that he had mesmerized her to some extent, for his hands kept sweeping in such broad circles that the edge of his palm had just brushed the underside of her breasts. At the same time, the hand on her back swept down to her lower back in counterpoint. Beatrice arched her back slightly in automatic response to the drugging pleasure of his warm hands. She could feel the heat of the massage even through the layers of clothing she wore. 

I saw her lick her lips in the same manner as Belva had when I got her aroused, and I understood that Beatrice, unbidden by either of us, was entertaining the most wanton of thoughts.

I couldn't believe my ears when Dennis whispered, "In concert, Roy, in concert," and began a light massaging of Beatrice's left breast. She didn't jerk away, and I adhered to Dennis' instruction and reached over and began to massage her right breast.

I felt her heart flutter and realized it was racing much faster than one's heart does normally. Although encased in a fairly stiff brassiere, my thumb felt her nipple rising up to meet my caress. 

Denis was whispering in her ear and I heard every word. "Beatrice, my dear, what's causing your nipples to press so hard against my fingers?" 

I should point out that both Dennis and I had our palms pressed against her delicious mounds while our fingers mischievously squeezed her nipples ever so lightly. The combined surge of sensation caused her to arch her back, and wrung a whimpering sigh from her luscious bee-stung lips. "Ohhh... we shouldn't..." 

But that was all the resistance she put forth as we continued to ply her nipples in tandem.

"Beatrice, look at me," he said sternly, and as if expecting some form of punishment, Beatrice obediently opened heavy eyes to look at him. I realized then that the young woman seated between us had a penchant for submission, and that both Dennis and I would have her before the train reached Pennsylvania Station if we wished.

Dennis slowly unbuttoned her dress. There was no protest whatsoever from Beatrice. And when the dress was half open her brasserie and the tops of her swelling breasts were exposed to both of us, Dennis said, "Lift one out, Roy, I'll get the other."

I did just that, scooping a pale globe from its lacey shelter into the slightly cooler air of the room while Dennis did the same with her other breast while the brasserie remained in place. Beatrice's head lolled backward and fell over my left arm, while Dennis continued to support her back to some extent. "We shouldn't," she protested weakly.

"And why not?" I said a beat later, not having heard Dennis respond for the first time.

"It's so naughty, I've never..." Beatrice said after a short silence, and then belied her protest with a groan of pleasure from Dennis lifting her breast to his lips and giving suck to her turgid nipple.

It took a full three seconds for it to register on me then I too swooped in and began suckling the other breast while Beatrice squirmed and whimpered on the settee.

I'm sure it was more reflexive than anything else, but my hand found Beatrice's leg and began traversing its way north over her nylons only to encounter Dennis' hand as I neared her crotch.


October 1947



"OH - OH - OH!" Beatrice exclaimed in a shuddering moan.

Releasing her nipple with a soft sucking pop, Dennis whispered, "Just wait until I stroke your clit, my dear Beatrice."

"My what?" she said so softly that I had to strain to hear although scant inches from her mouth.

My fingers had already crawled over a garter, brushed against her girdle, and were at the apex of her crotch, and I detected both a strange aroma and wetness emanating from the gusset of her underwear.

"Your clit, Beatrice, every woman has one," Dennis was saying. "One might say it is the key to all pleasure.

"OHHH, WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?"

"Lean back a bit for me. That's the girl," Dennis cooed seductively while easing her down on the settee. I had already dropped to one knee in order to maintain my place at her dampened crotch.

"That's it," he continued, "spread your legs a bit more."

Beatrice was shaking so badly at this point that I feared she might go into a convulsive state. "Is she..." I started to say, when Dennis interrupted me. "She's fine, Roy, continue with what you're doing."

I was amazed at the lack of resistance on her part, and then it occurred to me that Dennis had probably determined that poor Beatrice was ripe for plucking.

I was amazed that she hadn't called a halt yet. Most of the young ladies of virtue put up at least a token resistance. She must be absolutely ripe for plucking, I thought, and chuckled nervously.

Dennis slowly drew her dress upward. "Beatrice, my dear, hold this for me, please." The seemingly sluggish girl grasped the material in her hand obediently.

"That's a good girl."

Both Dennis and I maneuvered her legs further apart. I could see her pink undies quite clearly, and the center point covering her thickly bushed cunt was quite wet with her excitement.

Keep your eyes closed, Beatrice, my sweet. You'll really appreciate what comes next, I promise you," Dennis crooned into her ear.

Then, before I could react, Dennis' hand brushed mine aside and burrowed under her pink undies to the secret place Beatrice normally touched only when bathing.

Her body jerked convulsively as his hand reached her nether lips. I watched as his hand moved about under the gossamer material covering her cunt. Smiling wolfishly, Dennis withdrew his hand and displayed his wet fingers to me.

His fingers quickly returned to her sex and Beatrice groaned as her hips involuntarily jerked upward. 

"Ah, yes, Beatrice. Let me pleasure you," he whispered as her thrusting continued unabated.

I believe she started to scream, but anticipating it, Dennis covered her mouth with his free hand. "No, no, don't scream, try to be quiet. We don't want the conductor joining us, do we now?"

Beatrice moaned softly in acceptance, and he croaked, "Good, that's a good girl. Now open wider for us."

He pushed the loose, drenched material into her slit. "Does that feel good? I think that it does, Beatrice. I can feel you dripping all over my fingers." 

Beatrice moaned and I glanced at her breasts, her nipples stood out about a half inch signaling her intense pleasure at our ministrations to her bodies sexual parts.

"Finger her, Roy," Dennis said, and I did, sinking first one digit into her marshmallowy soft folds and then managing a second until I met resistance, probably from her hymen.

Dennis' hand crossed mine as he sought out the tiny nubbin that is known as the clitoris and gently rubbed over it time and time again while the young thing moaned repeatedly.

"I'm touching your clit, Beatrice. The proper name for it is clitoris, it's just a tiny thing really, but super sensitive, don't you agree?"

"Ohhhh!" she moaned.

"That's it," he said, urging her on, "move your hips. Do you like me touching you there? And how about where Roy is fingering you?"

She muttered something unintelligible.

"Cum for us, Beatrice," Dennis said with a rising urgency. "I know you're close. Can you cum for us?"

As I dug into her slippery folds my balls were roiling with the need to ejaculate, and I had to assume Dennis was similarly affected.

Suddenly, Beatrice's breath stopped, her hips arched up off the settee, and she came with small spurts of love juice ejaculating over my fingers and palm as she stared unseeingly at the ceiling.

Dennis held his hand still, waiting for the muscle spasms to stop, feeling the tiny bump of her clit throbbing madly as her sexual apparatus boiled over. I wondered if he would attempt having her accept both our rampant cocks, one by mouth, one by cunt, but perhaps he wanted to take those orifices in a more salubrious surrounding. Then again, perhaps he felt he had pushed her far enough for one day.

While I wasted time wondering about what we would do next, Dennis covered her mouth with his, tonguing her mercilessly while sending his index finger into the hot little cunt I had just left off of.

Then I caught another movement on his part. He was inserting a drenched finger into her anus!

"OH, MY!" Beatrice gasped, as she came out of her climactic stupor. He kissed her again and she quit any attempt at struggling against the constant pressure he was bringing to bear against the entrance to her rectum.

I watched his finger slowly forcing its way into her virginal ass, I heard Beatrice moan her pleasure into his mouth. Unable to resist participating any longer, I lifted her breast to my mouth and nibbled at each of her turgid nipples in turn.

Her moans grew louder.

I couldn't resist seeing how he was faring with his anal attack and glanced down; saw his long finger being swallowed to the first knuckle. I could clearly see the mouth of her anus sucking wildly at the invasive finger.

Unable to stop myself, I hurriedly unbuttoned my trousers and freed my throbbing cock from its confinement.

"You've done very well Beatrice, I had no idea you were so naughty," Dennis said, praising her; keeping his finger in place, but not venturing any further. 

Beatrice opened passion-glazed green eyes and stared at him, not really seeing him, her lips slick from his kisses, cheeks flushed. I saw his cock kick against his trousers, demanding attention. Dennis ignored it for the moment.

"You... you... the finger..." she moaned weakly. "Yes, Beatrice, my finger is in your bottom. Can you feel how your rosebud is suckling on it? I think you like this, don't you, girl? Hmm?" Dennis watched the impact of his words.

Beatrice's eyes fluttered closed then opened. "Hmmm..." she agreed without actually saying yes. 

At this point, Dennis made a decision and removed his finger from her asshole. Beatrice flinched at its loss, but would have blushed fifteen shades of red had she seen him raise the two fingers of his right hand to his mouth and smell them deeply, then slide them slowly, sensuously into his mouth and suck them clean of all her fluids. 

I released her breast with one last caress, and after tugging her dress down to its normal level, helped Dennis smooth it out. We helped Beatrice to her feet, and took turns kissing her for several lovely minutes.

She was still somewhat in a daze, and didn't notice me shove my erection back into my trousers. She did take notice of us both standing before her with our dicks thrusting out so forcibly that it must have tested the strength of the trousers material.

."Beatrice?" Dennis cooed seductively, "Do you hear me?"

"Huh? Oh... yes, I hear you, Mr. Dennis."

"Can you imagine, after all that, you're still a virgin. Isn't that nice?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, although she seemed somewhat disconcerted. Turning to face us, she said, "Mr. Dennis, Mr. Shannon. I'm still intact then?"

"Oh, yes," I said agreeably. While Dennis nodded his head.

Beatrice glanced down at our erections. "Does it hurt to be so stiff down there?"

"A little," Dennis said, but don't fret about it. We'll be fine in a short time. Now, Beatrice, why don't you splash a little cold water on your face?" 

And while she splashed some water on her face, Dennis unlocked the door to the powder room and ushered me out, quickly following.

"We'll have her yet, Roy, oh yes, we'll leave her hymen ruptured nine ways from Sunday."

"But we've got the Series game," I said lamely.

""There's life after the game, my good man, and she has a sister."

*****

The train pulled into Pennsylvania Station on time and Beatrice excitedly waved at what I presumed to be her sister through the large window separating her from the platform.

"That's Lizbeth," she fairly shouted excitedly, "My sister!"

Lizbeth was every bit as attractive at Beatrice, only she appeared to be with child.

Dennis picked up on it too, saying, "How far along is she?"

"Almost five months, now. Isn't she pretty?"

Dennis laughed and said, "She is indeed, one can hardly tell she's that far along."

The train came to a stop, and Dennis and I led Beatrice solicitously down the steps of the Pullman car, keeping one hand under each of her elbows. Lizbeth hurried along the platform toward her sister, concern written all over her attractive face at seeing us escorting her younger sibling.

As usual, Dennis was ready with an answer, "Beatrice was feeling a little off-color, so I had her rest a moment before disembarking, but we thought it best..." 

He didn't bother finishing the sentence as Lizbeth was already embracing her sister.

"These... two gentlemen have been so kind to me. I can't begin to tell you how much..." 

All this said with a straight face. My respect for a woman's ability to lie went up several notches.

We introduced ourselves to Lizbeth, who shook our hands while thanking us for looking out for Beatrice. "It's so kind of you gentlemen to look after Beatrice. I really do appreciate it," Lizbeth said with a dazzling smile.

"It was our pleasure," Dennis said so smoothly that I almost missed the sarcasm in his choice of words.

"In fact, and I must apologize in advance for being so forward, but we understand your husband is serving our country and..." He paused as if knowing what Lizbeth would say and wanted to let her say it.

"Yes, he's in Germany," for a moment it looked like she was about to cry, but she summoned up the strength to fight off the tears of loneliness that had welled up inside her for the months of separation and ended with, "God help him and all our other troops over there."

"Yes, yes, Indeed," I said.

But Dennis seized the moment, saying: "These are troubling times... I had thought that after the war..." 

Lizbeth finished the sentence for him, with: "The Russians seem to be provoking us at every turn."

"We have the A-Bomb though, Mrs. Hunt, and that should keep them at bay for the foreseeable future," Dennis said as he took hold of her elbow, and turned her toward the interior of Penn Station, urging us by his action to walk toward the street and the taxi that would whisk us to Ebbets Field.

As we emerged from the cavernous main floor of Pennsylvania station we were smitten by the cacophony of sound epitomizing New York City: car horns, screeching brakes, newspaper vendors hawking the daily papers by yelling out the headlines of the moment, and the bustle of pedestrians, seemingly going in every conceivable direction as the swarmed around us. It was impossible to stand in one place for long. Dennis obtained Lizbeth's phone number and told her he insisted on taking them both to dinner later that evening.

I noted the look of surprise that crossed her face at the invitation; saw Beatrice nudge her with an elbow, and saw the surprised expression leave Lizbeth's face to be replaced by a more knowing look. 

"We'd be delighted to join you gentlemen. Where shall we meet?"

"We'll be by to pick you two charming ladies up," Dennis said effortlessly, where I would have stumbled and probably fouled everything up.

Lizbeth gave him her address and repeated the phone number and we hailed a cab for them and saw them off before whistling down a cab for ourselves.

"City Hall, driver," Dennis said, sounding awfully official. The driver nodded once and drove like a madman using Broadway as his avenue of choice in heading Downtown to City Hall.

"The games in an hour and ten minutes," I said nervously.

"I know, Roy," he said, allowing more than a little sarcasm to creep into his voice. "We do however; require tickets to get in, don't we?"

I couldn't believe he had yet to purchase the tickets. "But the game..." I began lamely before it occurred to me that this was why we were headed to City Hall, and I shut up.

The cab pulled up at the entrance to New York City's famous City Hall. I saw a nervous looking man in a three piece suit of very expense cut, pacing back and forth near the entrance doors.

Dennis hopped out of the cab, leaving me alone in the backseat and trotted gracefully up the steps to greet the nervous looking gentleman who quickly handed Dennis an envelope.

Without so much as a thank you, Dennis turned away and loped back to the cab and got in.

"Take us to Ebbets Field, driver and don't spare the horses."

"Going to the Series?' 

"We are going to the Series, yes." He replied to the driver's question.

"Are youse Dodger or Yankee fans?"

"We're one of each," Dennis answered, "I'm the Dodger fan," he added, knowing this would lead to a conversation on the merits of each team and the hopes of the driver for one or the other to win.

"The Bum's is down two to zip already. It don look to good for us," the driver said, looking over his shoulder at us as he barreled onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

"That Allie Reynolds was tough on us yesterday, but we'll be back today. There ain't no quit in dem Dodgers," the cabby said, obviously enjoying himself as we spun off the bridge and headed toward Flatbush Avenue.

I entered the famed portals of Charlie Ebbets ballpark with Dennis at my side.

We stood on the Italian marble floor under the baseball bat chandelier while the crowd swirled past us.

"Ever been here before?" Dennis inquired as we walked toward our seats.

"No, I've been to Wrigley of course and Comiskey too. Caught a couple games in Detroit once, and both ball parks in St. Louis. But although I've been to New York twice, I've never seen a baseball game here."

We came out into the open and a sea of green greeted us. It was, as it always is with me, a breathtakingly beautiful sight. Before us, on the field, the batting cage was in place, and Pistol Pete Reiser was hitting. The Brooklyn pitchers, except for Hatten, the starter, were running in the outfield. The rest of the team lounged alertly on the field in their immaculate whites with the blue trim. Some infielders were in the outfield shagging the balls hit there and some outfielders and catchers were cavorting in the infield, making behind the back catches of pop flies.

"They seem relaxed after losing two straight," I said.

"That's in the past," Dennis said, "They're professionals; it doesn't matter if the Yankees kicked their asses 18-0 yesterday. Today is a new day and a new ballgame.

"Bobo Newsom's going today. I said.

"Yeah? Well several Dodgers see him real good," he replied.

An usher showed us to our seats behind the Dodgers dugout on the home plate side rather than the first base side. "These are great seats," I told Dennis.

"Yeah, well it's who you know."

"My guess is you know a lot of people."

"I've been around. You get to know people if you're around long enough."

"The fellow gave you the ducats seemed kinda nervous," I said, fishing for more information.

Dennis bit, and told me, "He had every right to be nervous. I caught him with the Mayor's right hand man's dick up his ass."

"Wouldn't that be more of a problem for the Mayor's man?"

"Might be if you weren't the City Comptroller."

"Hmmm, you have a point there."

"I always have a point, Roy. Now Robinson's going to take his turn, let's watch him."

We watched as the first Negro to play in the major leagues in this century hit line drive after line drive to the farthest reaches of the ball park.

"Reminds me of Stan the Man," I said off the top of my head.

"Some, yeah," Dennis smiled. "See how he looks like he's gonna fly apart as he starts his swing and then his bat levels off and meets the ball squarely? That's Musial."

We watched Robinson hit another screaming line drive off the Schaffer Beer sign in deep left-center and then vacate the batting cage.

"Stanky will be gone next year," Dennis said knowingly.

"And you know this ... how?" I asked.

"They got a kid named Hodges needs to play. He'll move from back-up catcher to first. Robby will take over at his natural position. For that to happen Stanky has to go."

I didn't argue with him. His knowledge of baseball and its inner workings far surpassed mine. What he said made sense, Stanky, although one of the better second basemen in the majors was getting old; and if Hodges could hit with power ... well you'd be hard pressed to keep him on the bench. As for first base, Robinson was clearly uncomfortable there. It was entirely possible he would blossom at the four position with his speed and agility.

The crowd continued to file in, and the excitement rose with each passing minute.

"We missed seeing DiMaggio hit didn't we?" I said.

"That must have been about an hour ago," Dennis replied laconically. "Usually its only the kids get here that early. They catch one of his longer shots he might sign the ball after he's finished batting."

"That's nice of him," I said.

"He's a shy guy, but likes the kids. Adults make him uncomfortable. When he goes out its usually with an entourage. They fend off the bothersome types. He's a regular at Toots Shor's although you can't get near him.

We each had a beer bought from a vendor bouncing up and down the steps while a Dodger coach swatted long, lazy fungoes out to the outfield. The crowd, mostly men, many of them with boys, scorecards clutched in their hands, filtered slowly into their seats.

Over the loudspeakers, Buddy Clark was singing "Linda." I sipped my beer as we listened to it. Dennis finished a cigarette and snubbed it carelessly with his foot into the stadium's concrete flooring. I saw that it wasn't completely out, and a small acrid twist of smoke rose from it still. I leaned across him and snuffed the butt until it was completely out.

"What do you think...?" He started to say, but I interrupted him.

"Of the girls? I like the both of them. Why, do you favor one over the other?"

My question caught Dennis off guard. It may have been the first time I ever did so.

"Yeah, the girls; they'll put out, I guarantee it. And to answer your question, no, I don't care which one I wind up with."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" I asked, extremely interested in his answer.

That got me a wolfish grin. "Like most women, their first consideration was are we matrimonial material? In that regard we passed with flying colors."

"But Lizbeth's married," I protested.

"He's in Germany. Might get killed at any time. Who knows? It doesn't hurt to have a fellow in the bull-pen, so to speak."

"How callous is that?" I said.

"The ladies think ahead. They have to look out for themselves."

"So, is Beatrice really a virgin?" I asked, knowing he had the answer.

"Not surprisingly, yes. Her mother has kept the men at bay. It seems Lizbeth got the hots for guys early on. My guess is she had a close call with pregnancy early on. Umm, before, well before husband number one. That had the mother on the alert to anything in pants. Anyway, Lizbeth married him just before her twentieth birthday, and got knocked up in a flurry of frenzied fucking just before he shipped out."

"How the hell...?"

"I listen to everything a woman has to say, and then I read between the lines. Toss in a dollop of human nature and that's the result."




October 1947



"Hmmm, so what else is there to know about Beatrice?"

"I would add that Lizbeth is about as horny these days as a woman can possibly get. Did you see her checking our packages out?"

I had to admit that I hadn't, and said so.

"Well, she did. Took a long hard look too, and I mean at both of us. Beatrice saw her do it and almost bit her lip off, she was really surprised by her sister's actions.

"But knowing women, they'll have had a long, detailed discussion about us before we meet them tonight."

"You think Beatrice will tell Lizbeth what we were doing to her?"

"I'd bet on it."

"But why? How?" I blurted, unable to conceive of the younger sister telling the older what had gone on in the Pullman car's powder room.

"She'll see how horny her sister is. She knows Lizbeth won't want to go out with us and will use her marriage as an excuse. But little Miss Beatrice wants to get laid. For that matter, so does her sister. They'll meet us and we'll wine and dine them."

"And then?" I asked like a love-sick teenager.

"We take them to our hotel room for a night-cap and fuck their brains out. I intend to screw each of them in turn. You can too if you want."

It had never occurred to me that we might share the sisters although I had fantasized about nailing each of them--only not on the same night.

Glancing out on the field while thinking of what to say in answer to his last remark, I saw the starting pitchers' ambling down to their respective bullpen's to warm up. A moment later the umpires began gathering at home plate. The managers strolled out a minute later and presented their respective lineup cards while the crack of a fastball landing in a catcher's mitt reverberated throughout the ball park.

Then the player's from each team were lining up along the foul lines, followed by the playing of the National Anthem, and then George Stirnweiss was stepping into the batter's box to face hard throwing, Joe Hatten.

Stirnweiss rapped a slow curve into right field, but Henrich promptly grounded into a double play and the Dodgers were out of the inning one batter later.

The Dodgers rocked the Yankees in the 2nd when catcher, Bruce Edwards doubled Hermanski home and scored when Reese singled to center. Then with two out, Hatten singled to left; and when Lollar allowed a passed ball, both runners advanced to 2nd and 3rd only to score on Stanky's double off the right field wall. That made it 4-0 and the beloved Bums weren't done.

Vic Raschi replaced Newsom only to give up a base hit to Jackie Robinson, moving Stanky to 3rd.

"Oh, look at this!" Dennis exclaimed. Out of the Dodger dugout came Carl Furillo swinging three bats. They were pinch-hitting for Reiser!

Moments later I thought it a stroke of genius, for Furillo promptly doubled scoring the two base runners. Dodgers 6 Yankees 0, after two innings.

But the Yankees weren't rolling over just yet. In the top of the third, the first two men got on base, and with two out, Johnny Lindell singled one run home; and DiMaggio drove in another with a single up the middle, before McQuinn struck out to retire the side.

In the bottom half of the inning, Spider Jorgensen single Hermanski home, making the score: Dodgers 7, Yankees 2.

"Looks like we've got a high scoring game today," I said to Dennis, who nodded his head in agreement.

"The pitchers don't have it today. You know, some days the ball won't move as much as it normally does. This seems like one of them."

"Does the wind have something to do with it?" I asked.

"You're from Chicago, what do you think?" He replied, and wasn't smiling.

I thought he might be testing me, but didn't know why, and so I said, "The wind certainly helps the ball leave Wrigley Field some days, that's for sure, but I don't see it affecting the game in any other way."

"What about the humidity, or even a windless, or almost windless afternoon, like we have today? I've seen those kinds of days when a good curve ball pitcher can or cannot snap his pitches off in the usual manner. Those days the pitcher sucks it up and throws the heater until his arm gives out."

I waited, knowing he'd have more to say on the subject.

"At the moment, the Dodgers have Hatten on the mound; he's a breaking ball pitcher. You watch the Yankees are going to score again in this inning."

And they did. Hatten couldn't find the plate and walked the third baseman, Billy Johnson. One out later, Lollar doubled off the right field wall, scoring Johnson. Hatten got the pinch hitter to fly to Hermanski in left, but hung a curve to Stirnweiss, who slapped it to center where Furillo bobbled it as Lollar scored and Stirnweiss took second. The Yankees had narrowed the Dodgers lead to 7 - 4.

"Well it looks like you were right," I said and waved a vendor over to buy two Schaefer beers. "Drinks on me," I said.

"Good and thanks. Now watch, Chandler's coming in for the Yanks, and he's a breaking ball pitcher. If the wind doesn't pick up the Dodgers will rip him for a few more runs."

Dennis was right again. Chandler couldn't buy a strike. He walked Eddie Stanky, got Robinson when he sacrificed Stanky to second; and I would add he bunted a pitch that was well outside the plate. Chandler proceeded to walk the next batter and it seemed he was almost forced to throw the ball over the heart of the plate enabling Walker and Hermanski to single up the middle, scoring Stanky and Furillo in turn. So the Dodgers matched the Yankees with two runs in the 4th inning, making it 9 - 4 Dodgers.

The Yankees almost came back after "Joe D" hit a two-run blast in the fifth, Tommy Henrich doubled home a Yankee run in the sixth and Yogi Berra added his own homer in the seventh. Unfortunately, it was too little - too late and the Dodgers held on for a 9 - 8 victory.

It's worth adding that the breeze picked up in the fifth inning after Hatten gave up DiMaggio's home run and Branca, a fastball pitcher came on. And as if proving Dennis' point, following Berra's two-run homer in the seventh, Hugh Casey replaced Branca, and Casey, whose slider was his best pitch, effectively shut down the Yankees the rest of the way. Final score: Dodgers, 9 - 8.

We made our way out of Ebbets Field along with thousands of happy Dodger fans, boarded the subway and thirty minutes later were back in our hotel in Manhattan. It was ten minutes to five.

Dennis excused himself for a moment, saying he had to make a couple phone calls. I bought an afternoon paper and caught up on the latest news, comforted by the fact that I had borne witness to the real latest news wherein the Dodgers had beaten the Yankees. I didn't even wonder what Dennis was up to.

At any rate, I found out soon enough. Some ten minutes later, Dennis strode into the hotel's bar where I sat nursing a scotch and soda.

"We're set for tonight," he said smugly.

"Oh...?" I said my pulse was already racing now that Beatrice and Lizbeth were actually going to meet with us that evening.

"We've got tickets for A Streetcar Named Desire and Lizbeth and Beatrice couldn't be more thrilled."

"You got tickets ... for Streetcar?" I couldn't believe my ears. It was the smash hit of the season; tickets were absolutely unavailable to all but the 'In Crowd' and biggest celebrities about town. I had just finished reading in the Daily News the night before that Walter Winchell was having trouble getting tickets for the show, and here was Dennis coming up with four for tonight, with a phone call or two. And the girls were joining us! The guy was incredible!

Dennis was taking a sip from his martini when I asked my next question. "I won't ask how you managed to get those tickets, but how did the girls sound when you invited them?"

He laughed, paused to light up a Camel, and I realized he seldom had the same brand of cigarettes on him.

"They're going to put out for us, Roy. I guarantee it."

I started to say, "How can you..." But stopped, if he said so they could and they would. Hell, he already had seduced Beatrice, except for taking her virginity, and that would fall later tonight.

I came out of the shower drying my hair. On the radio Martin Block was signing off with his signature recording of Glenn Miller & the Modernaires, Make Believe Ballroom Time.

Dennis inhaled deeply from his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly, watching it spiral upward.

"Hurry it up, the girls are in the lobby," Dennis said calmly, and then stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray at his side as he rose up from the chair he was sitting in and shot his cuffs as he checked his image in the mirror.

I tossed the towel aside and got dressed. Dennis, of course was already dressed and ready to go.

The Modernaires stylistic rendition filled the room as I hurriedly buttoned my shirt and slipped on my jacket.

It's make believe ballroom time,

the hour of sweet romance.

It's make believe ballroom time,

come on children, let's dance.

Five minutes and a little dab of Brylcreem later, I was ready too. We took the elevator down and met Beatrice and Lizbeth in the hotel bar where they were waiting for us. It was difficult to tell that Lizbeth was pregnant even though she was wearing a fairly snug skirt and jacket over a white blouse, but it was evident that the blouse did little to conceal her rather large breasts. I had, of course, sampled her sister Beatrice's breasts the day before, and while they were sizable enough, Lizbeth's pregnant state had obviously enhanced hers a great deal.

Dennis greeted each girl with a kiss on the cheek, and then said, "I hope you'll allow us to pay for those drinks, after all we made you take a cab over here and then added insult to injury by having you wait while we got ready. It's the least we can do to make up for it."

Lizbeth looked at her almost empty martini and Dennis immediately ordered another for her and Beatrice and then after the bartender placed their drinks in front of them, ordered martini's for us as well, throwing a twenty on the bar in payment.

In my heart I knew that had I been left to offer an apology to them I would have stumbled and probably fouled everything up. The man was damn near incredible.

I should add that with Dennis between me and the girls, I didn't get to kiss ether of them. All I could do was smile and nod hello. But there was a discernible flush to Beatrice's cheeks, and a sly, knowing glint in Lizbeth's eye when we looked at each other. Things certainly looked promising.

We hailed a cab and were whisked over to Toot's Shor's Restaurant on West 51st Street and found ourselves seated at a table between DiMaggio and several other Yankee players along with the inimitable Toots himself on one side, and Ernest Hemmingway and two gorgeous women on the other.

The girls and I were agog and almost speechless when Toots patted DiMaggio on the shoulder and came over to us to greet Dennis as if he'd known him from childhood.

"So how's the food tonight, Toots?" Dennis asked genially.

"Nuttin' fancy, have the shrimp cocktail, steak and a baked potato," Toots said as he slapped Dennis on the back and checked out Lizbeth's breasts when she wasn't looking. A moment later he was leaning over one of the beauties seated with Hemmingway, joking with the famous author about a fish they had let get away off the shores of Havana some years earlier.

As our Steaks were being served, Dennis regaled us with a typical story on Toots.

"What a guy, what a guy," Dennis laughed. One day, the head of MGM, Louis B. Mayer complained to Toots about waiting twenty minutes for a table. He said something like: "I trust the food will be worth all that waiting." There was a gleam in Dennis' eye as he leaned closer to the girls and whispered the punch line: "Shor replied: 'It'll be better'n some of your crummy pictures I stood in line for.'"

Lizbeth shrieked with laughter. Beatrice followed a split second later. I think she was just following her sister's lead, and really didn't get the point, but I never found out it that was so.

Twenty minutes later our cab pulled up in front of the Ethel Barrymore Theatre, where 'Street Car' was being performed. The girls held back briefly to study the picture of a shirtless Marlon Brando just outside the lobby doors.

With his hand on Beatrice's waist, Dennis escorted her into the lobby. I followed suite with Lizbeth, only to find that somehow she managed to press her breast against my arm in what had to be a deliberate act on her part. I started thinking about whether she was lactating and if I would have an opportunity to sample some breast milk that evening. I was sporting an erection in no time at all, and not having had any release after the previous day's session with Beatrice, I knew that blue balls were not all that far off.

"Are you a fan of Brando's?" I inquired, hoping to spark a longer conversation with her then I had thus far, and keep any curious looks at my groin to a minimum.

Lizbeth pressed her breast harder against me as she responded. "Oh, yes. He's a man's man. I was lucky to see him in Truckline Café, which although it bombed, earned him Broadway's Most Promising Actor Award for his role as an anguished veteran."

Her breast was hard and firm, although it also was pliant as breasts tend to be; I felt the first twinge of tension in my testes. Discomfort was not far off.

I told her I had first heard of him when he appeared on Broadway as the young hero in the political drama A Flag is Born, and made headlines by refusing to accept wages above the Actor's Equity rate because of his commitment to the cause of Israeli independence.

Lizbeth countered by telling me how Brando got the role of Stanley Kowalski. "He ... he had the audacity to drive up to Provincetown where Tennessee Williams was spending the summer, to audition for the part."

"I didn't know that," I said,

"Oh yes," she replied keeping her breast firmly lodged against my arm. "Williams has said repeatedly that the moment he opened the screen door and saw Brando, he knew he had his Kowalski."

I presented out tickets to the ticket taker and whisked Lizbeth into the orchestra, where we joined Beatrice and Dennis.

Beatrice took her seat and Dennis sat beside her and patted the seat next to him and Lizbeth sat there and fussed with her skirt as I sat down next to her.

People were still streaming into the theater. I checked my watch and found we had about ten minutes before the curtain was scheduled to go up. Lizbeth broke the silence. "I understand that you were raised in Missouri, Mr. Shannon, would it have been St. Louis? I ask because I visited there when I was twelve. I liked it and found the people there to be very outgoing and friendly."

"Actually, I was born and raised in Columbia, the state capital, and home of Missouri University."

Her hand was suddenly on mine. "Really?" she said. "And did you attend the university?"

"I did. I majored in journalism. After the war I was hired by the Chicago Tribune."

"Oh, you're sort of a celebrity then."

"Not at all, I'm just a working stiff."

"How is it that you're here in New York and not in Chicago?"

"Mr. Dennis was kind enough to invite me to see the World Series, and I could hardly refuse."

I heard Beatrice remark to Dennis that the other patrons were watching each other as avidly as they would the stage when the play began. Dennis laughed and told her they were people watching; a sport that New Yorkers loved to take part in, hoping that they would spot a celebrity.

I caught a glimpse of Dennis' hand on Beatrice's thigh, and glanced at her face. It was aflame with guilt and possibly lust. I thought of placing my hand on Lizbeth's thigh as well, but the lights dimmed and went out a moment later. And as Streetcar of Desire began to unfold before us, I was caught up in the brilliance of Jessica Tandy's, Blanche and Brando's, Kowalski. The spell remained unbroken until the curtain came down at intermission. Then I blinked owlishly around as the audience streamed past me on their way to the lobby to discuss the performance thus far, and to quench their thirsts with a glass of wine or Champagne.

I turned to Lizbeth and saw that Dennis had his right hand on her upper thigh. I was stunned for his left hand was similarly placed on Beatrice's thigh, only that hand was moving into the area of her crotch while she stared straight ahead at the stage.

I distinctly heard him ask Beatrice, "You don't hate me, do you?" And her answer left me dumbfounded. "Of course not," she gasped, "How could you think that?"

His hand was rubbing her cunt through the dress and she was actually squirming around in her seat. Anyone bothering to look could see what he was doing, but apparently no one could be bothered.

I put my arm around Lizbeth's shoulder and received a sheepish smile from her. Dennis promptly removed his hand from her thigh and motioned for me to take its place.

But my arm was around her shoulder, and so I did what I presumed Dennis would have done in my stead, reaching across my body with my right hand and laying it directly on her belly swollen with child. I couldn't believe my ears. Lizbeth actually purred and covered my hand with her own, squeezing it gently.

"I was beginning to wonder about you, Roy," she told me in a whisper.

"There's nothing to worry about," I said as my hand swept lower and lower and her hand went with mine.

"Did you really do all those things in the ladies room on the train?"

"Beatrice told you?"

"Of course, we're sisters. She told me everything. I can't believe she let you insert a finger in her heinie. It's unlike her."

As she uttered those words my middle finger dug through the folds of her dress and into her vagina. Of course it had been Dennis who had the finger up her ass, but why would I quibble at this point?

"YES!" she moaned softly.

"Like it, Lizbeth?"

"It's been so long since anyone's touched me. I've begun to feel like a pariah."

"After the show I'll do more than touch you," I said breathing heavily.

"Will you?" she gasped and gave my hardon a quick squeeze as the house lights blinked twice, signaling the end of the intermission.

I glanced over at Beatrice and Dennis. His hand was clearly under her skirt, and unless I misjudged him, he was already fingering her to a climax. Beatrice's eyes were tightly closed and her lips were compressed as if she were in pain. But I knew she felt no pain, she was feeling intense pleasure as he strove to bring her to a fast orgasm before the audience returned to their seats.

"OH!" Beatrice drew in her breath with a short audible moan. "S ... Stop it!"

"What is it, Beatrice?" Dennis asked innocently.

Lizbeth giggled and I reluctantly removed my hand and placed it on my own lap.

Beatrice had reached down and now had Dennis' wrist in her hand and was tugging it out from under her dress.

"Everyone will see!" she whispered then realized that both Lizbeth and I had heard her. "He's being a bad boy!" she said as if that explained everything. As far as Beatrice was concerned it did, for neither Lizbeth nor I made any comment on the matter, but looked at the stage as if the performers were already on stage.

Both Lizbeth and I knew that Beatrice may have feared being caught, but certainly welcomed not only his touch but mine as well. I proved this by reaching across Dennis to squeeze her breast without drawing any semblance of protest from her. I relinquished my hold on her tit and turned back to Lizbeth who still had a firm grip on my cock.

"She's putty in his hands," I said into her ear and followed up by licking her ear lobe.

Lizbeth shuddered, and then squeaked, "I think I am too, but we're not in the balcony of the local movie theatre. People will take note and very possibly complain."

"You're absolutely right, my dear. Let's hold off until we get back to your place."




October 1947



"I couldn't agree more," Lizbeth answered; "although I have to tell you..." she gave me another hard squeeze... "I'll miss holding this monster of yours."

And so we pretty much behaved ourselves until getting in the cab on the way to Lizbeth's. Beatrice sank back into the seat, her thighs almost involuntarily parting to allow Dennis' magical hand access. Then, as though waking from a dream, she slammed her legs closed. "Um, I can't!" she gasped.

"Sure you can," Dennis said persuasively.

"Oh, go on, Sis," Lizbeth added, "You know you want him too. Don't be a cock teaser."

I was stunned to hear Lizbeth telling her younger sister to grant Dennis anything he wanted. Dennis added a few additional honeyed words to Beatrice and her legs parted.

Moments later I was kissing Lizbeth and she was trying to swallow my tongue. Yet in all this turmoil, I could clearly hear the squishing sound from between Beatrice's thighs as Dennis fingered her to a rousing orgasm.

Absorbed with watching the shenanigans in the back seat, our cabby almost lost control of the taxi. He managed to get back on course as the brakes squealed just a fraction louder than Beatrice did on coming from Dennis' fingering.

I was busy myself. I had a hand under Lizbeth's blouse and busied myself with trying to get my hand into the cup of her brasserie. I wasn't having any success until she reached in there herself and hauled a heavy breast from the brassiere and plopped it in my hand. The nipple felt firm and supple to my fingers and after several soft flicks and a squeeze or two she was moaning into my ear and squeezing my cock again.

Seeking a greater reward, I left her breast hanging over the top of her brassiere and whispered: "I'm going to put my hand underneath your skirt in a moment, no one will see us except perhaps your sister, but she has her eyes closed and I doubt she'll care anyway.

"Okay, Roy, do it!" she hissed in my ear then sent her tongue into it, swirling about and driving me half mad. I didn't come to my senses until my hand was at the gusset of her undies and the heat and dampness that greeted my fingers brought me back with a jolt.

I watched her closely, my own breathing rate increasing at a dangerously high level. Men have been known to have heart attacks or strokes under similar situations.

Alongside me, Beatrice emitted a soft moan that trailed away as she placed several fingers in her mouth to stifle an even louder groan.

I had two fingers buried in Lizbeth's twat and her head was nodding jerkily, her breathing already hurried. "I can't believe how wet you are," I said, my voice merely a soft rustling sound, heard only by Lizbeth. I can't wait to taste you down there."

"You ... you'd do that?" Lizbeth replied in a hushed voice.

"Of course; I love doing ... that." I replied in kind.

"But it's considered so ... nasty!"

"Don't you want me to do the nasty with you?"

"I ... I don't ... yes! Yes, I do!"

"And then what, darling? Will you do the nasty to me?"

"I ... I've never ... but I will. Yes, I will!"

"Will Beatrice do it too?" I said, pushing my luck.

"I don't know ... why wouldn't she? Especially if I urge her to do it."

Our conversation and my fingering her twat came to an abrupt end when the cabbie pulled up in front of a typical Brownstone and announced that we were at our destination.

Dennis unhurriedly withdrew his hand from under Beatrice's skirt, smoothed the wrinkles from it as he whispered our arrival into her ear.

I gave the cabbie a five dollar bill and told him to keep the change, which was about three dollars. He gave Dennis and me a broad grin and wished us a good evening, and then he ogled the girls as they headed for the entrance of their building.

Once inside, Dennis took charge, made us all martinis and had Lizbeth sit on my lap on the divan; and after turning the lights down low, took the sofa for Beatrice and him.

"Cheers, everyone!" he called out and we raised our martinis up in acknowledgment. Both Dennis and I pretended not to notice the flushed faces of our respective partners.

"Drink up, Beatrice," Dennis said, urging her to do so by emptying his own glass in one long gulp. Lizbeth emptied her glass as well, handing me her glass with a trembling hand.

"Beatrice, we should get more comfortable, here, let me help you off with these, they'll only get in our way," Dennis said cheerfully as he opened her dress and deftly unhooked her brassiere, letting her generous breasts spill out into the open.

I freely admit I gawked at seeing them again. They were magnificent - twin peaks with pebbled areola and stiffened nipples

Dennis chuckled, his teeth gleaming whitely in the dim lighting. "Lizbeth, my sweet, let us see your breasts too so we may compare. But I promise the both of you; neither Roy nor I will make any comment as to whose are the nicer."

I was stunned to see that Lizbeth was already opening her blouse to release her heavy breasts to view.

If Beatrice had a magnificent pair I don't know what Lizbeth's were. First of all, they were filled, or beginning to fill, with milk for her as yet unborn child. Blue veins were evident in hers, but not in Beatrice's. This was, of course, due to her pregnant state. Her areolas were pebbled as were Beatrice's, but much larger in circumference. Again, a factor of her pregnancy.

Other than that, the girls were identical, but I digress, for although my memory of their respective breasts is filled with descriptive adjectives and superlatives, Dennis and I did not spend all that much time in admiring them. Instead, we set out to pay homage to each of them in turn, burying our faces in their bosoms' and suckling like babies.

I heard Dennis croon to Beatrice that he was not going to take her virginity; that he would leave that honor to her future husband. Shyly and somewhat taken aback, Beatrice replied, "But I thought..."

"There are many ways to give and receive pleasure, my dear Beatrice. I had thought Lizbeth might have discussed them with you?"

"I ... I haven't had any..."

"But you told her what happened on the train didn't you?"

"Yes, and she had questions about it..."

"But didn't offer any advice?"

"Um, well ... she told me that she lost her virginity before meeting her husband."

"Oh, who was it, a boy from high school?"

"No, it was a friend of my father's. Just after his funeral, he paid us an unexpected visit. I was at a piano recital with my mother, Lizbeth was home alone.

She confided to me that he took her on father's leather couch; that it hurt dreadfully the first time."

"So they met another time?"

"Yes, she agreed to meet him at his office the next day."

"So it wasn't as bad as she made it sound, was it?"

"No, and she explained that to me, saying that afterward she had this wonderful feeling ... down there, and she was more than receptive to trying the experience again."

"How long did this go on?"

"That time in the office was the last time. Lizbeth feared being caught. Then she met Steven, her husband. She told me they did it after the second date. He didn't have any protection, but persuaded her to let him in the back door as she couldn't get preggers that way."

"They must have gone at it like rabbits after they married," I said.

"They certainly did! Lizbeth even told me that a woman was capable of enjoying two men at one time. Can you believe it?"

"I can visualize it. Would you be interested in trying it?"

"I ... I was thinking about it on the train. You know, when the two of you..."

"But fear of losing your virginity kept you from going ahead with it, didn't it?"

"Yes ... and that's all that stopped me. God, I was so..."

"Aroused?"

"Yes, that's the word. Aroused. Mmmm, and then ... Lizbeth told me she wanted to meet the two of you, and ... umm..."

"I see. Well, she has, hasn't she?" Dennis said, glancing over at Lizbeth and me as I fondled and nuzzled her bared breasts in full view of the others.

Then, and I believe it was at the same moment I tasted the milk from Lizbeth's right breast, Dennis kissed Beatrice passionately, causing her to become faint enough that she made no protest as he adroitly removed the remainder of her outer garments, leaving her attired in only panties, garter belt and stockings.

Before she could be overcome by modesty, Dennis swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, laying her down on top of the covers. I could see into the room where he stood back for a moment, admiring the beautiful sight of Beatrice spread before him, breasts heaving with her quickened breaths; skin a fiery red with shyness. He tossed his jacket off to the side and wrenched at his tie with impatient fingers, then swiftly kicked off his shoes and dropped his pants and shorts to his feet.

A moment later he joined Beatrice on the bed, taking the hardened, sensitive tip of one succulent breast into his mouth even before he climbed on top of her.

I asked Lizbeth if she wanted to move over to the sofa, thinking she, like me would find it more comfortable for what we were undoubtedly going to be doing in the next minute or so. To my surprise, she demurred, saying, "We can see them from here, at least to some extent. If we move to the sofa we can't."

I hadn't thought that Lizbeth was as much a voyeur as I, and was taken aback.

"Surely you like to watch them, Roy. I've seen you staring at them. Well, she's my sister, and I care what happens to her. I have to watch."

"But you want to watch too, don't you?" I said, perhaps it was a cruel thing to say, but I said it anyway.

Covering her breasts with feigned modesty, Lizbeth answered me, saying: "It's true; I'm excited by the thought of what they're doing, or going to do. I haven't had sex in months and even then it was sporadic, he'd come home after drinking beer all night and jump on me, wham, bam, and not even a thank you ma'am."

"Then let's have sex right now," I said lowering my zipper.

"Not so fast, Roy. We will, I promise. But let's watch them for a while. You can ... you know, put your finger in me if you want."

"I want to..." I murmured, and sent my hand between her legs and under the panties my hand had stretched previously into the hot, wet groove of her cunt.

Both our faces were turned toward the bedroom and Lizbeth smiled hotly as I fingered her relentlessly while her eyes were riveted to Dennis' feverish expression, or perhaps it was his cock, as he prepared to mount her sister.

In the bedroom, Beatrice was in the hottest of heat, rubbing herself against Dennis' rampant cock. Her moans were low, throaty; almost maddening when compared to the self control Dennis exhibited. He had promised not to take her virginity, or get her pregnant. He would honor that, but I knew he would violate the girl in one way or another and probably in more ways than one. I was no one to talk. I wanted her myself, and was already hoping to possess both sisters before the night ended. In my heart, I knew that Dennis would in all likelihood do just that and perhaps more.

Dennis' fingers were soaked with Beatrice's bodily fluid, and I gasped as he rubbed three fingers over her rosebud then sent them one after the other into the mouth of her puckered crease.

Next to me, Lizbeth moaned quietly at the sight. I sent my errant fingers to her spidery hole and teased her while we watched Beatrice's rectum draw his fingers in, one by one while he sucked on her throat like Bela Lugosi in his famous role as Count Dracula.

It was evident to me that Dennis intended to take Beatrice to a higher level of satisfaction; and when she cried out when his mouth moved to the hollow of her throat, his middle finger pushed strongly into her fundament; pushing halfway in without pause. Beatrice jerked at the unexpected entry into her rectum, moaning fiercely but continuing to move her hand on his cock.

By this point, my fingers were sopping with Lizbeth's juices and I meandered upward seeking the almost invisible nub of her clit.

I only found it when she moaned and I connected the moan with a little bump at, or near the top of her opening. Gorged with lust and success, I began to gently pluck and pinch.

Lizbeth was quickly roused her to a fever pitch. I sent my fingers downward, one fingertip pushing gently at the opening to her sex, and felt a gush of liquid at the touch. Then back up again, a hard pinch to her clit, and then back down. This time using both fingertips to part the inner labia, holding her slightly open. Lizbeth's back arched and her eyes fluttered rapidly, almost melting at the sensation of openness and vulnerability this caused.

"Ohhh, Roy, I can't stand it," she whispered frantically. I grinned in the dim lighting but said nothing. I continued bringing her close to peaking before backing up and allowing her to cool off before renewing my fingering. Lizbeth, unable to control her whimpers, didn't seem to care if her sister and Dennis heard her.

Perhaps it was because Lizbeth was so plaint in my arms, I felt safe in taking the occasional glimpse of the couple in the bedroom. I'm glad I did, for I learned many things about women; for Beatrice far from resisting Dennis' fingers in her anus, appeared to welcome them. In no time at all she was thrusting her rump in time to meet his fingers as they delved into her dark hole.

Suddenly, Beatrice screamed and exploded into orgasm; her teeth biting into his neck and nearly causing Dennis to explode without having penetrated any of her orifices with his cock.

Both Lizbeth and I were now paying rapt attention to them and ignoring one another as Beatrice finally shuddered into silence, with only the occasional tremor running through her. Dennis kept his finger immersed in her rectum, running the other hand soothingly up and down her back.

After a few moments, Beatrice raised her head to look into his eyes. Lizbeth and I heard her voice, husky with lust moan, "Your fingers are still inside my bottom."

Dennis gave a guttural laugh. "Yes, darling, and that's not all I'd like to put inside your bottom, but this is neither the time nor the place. You liked it, didn't you? Come on, you can tell me. Or was that someone else screaming for me not to stop?" he teased her gently, delighting in her blush.

He slowly eased his finger from her bottom, watching the expressions that crossed her face as the ticklish, pleasurable feeling was replaced by a brief sense of emptiness. It seemed that Beatrice was quite anal-erotic. Of course, she had no idea what else he wanted to put in her bottom. That would not be so painless, but there was much pleasure to be found in that delicious pain.

Beatrice pulled away, putting perhaps six inches between them. "I feel," she announced then paused a moment to wrinkle her nose, "sticky!"

Dennis smiled sympathetically at her, but most of his attention was focused on his bone-hard erection. "Darling, there's something I'd like you to do for me. That hard thing you were rubbing your cunny against is called a 'cock.' When a man is aroused, his cock gets hard. Right now, I'm so hard that it hurts. I'd like you to help me find satisfaction, just as I helped you."

Beatrice looked up at him for a puzzled moment. "You want me to rub against you and put my finger in your bottom?" she asked him innocently.

Dennis snorted. "No, another time perhaps; there are so many ways to bring your partner pleasure. The pinnacle of pleasure is the orgasm, which you have twice experienced. Would you like to make me orgasm?"

Beatrice nodded shyly, her curiosity and remnants of arousal wiping away any reservations. Lizbeth and I looked at each other and she whispered, "Whatever she does, I want you to do to me."

Dennis was holding his erection under Beatrice's nose. She seemed fascinated by it. I was impressed myself. The tip was swollen to the size of a small plum, and almost as purple. The thick shaft pulsed as Dennis slid his hand slowly, mesmerizingly up the underside, cupping the large head in his palm.

"I want you to take my cock into your mouth, Beatrice. I want you to suck on it. Lick it with your tongue."

Beatrice watched hypnotized, her eyes all over the large member, especially the single pearly drop of fluid that welled up from the open slit in the top then hung trembling on the plum-like top. Dreamily, she reached out and caught it on her fingertip, brought it to her mouth and tasted his essence. She was oblivious to the gasp and lurch of Dennis' body as the tip of her fingernail gently scraped his urethral slit.

Lizbeth and I watched Beatrice savor the salty taste of his fluid with her eyes closed in concentration. When she opened them again, she blushed to find us all watching her. Dennis' eyes were hot, and predatory. The planes and angles of his face clenched with an effort to restrain himself.

"Beatrice," he growled. His tone raised chills on my back. "Suck my cock!"

For some reason, I found the demanding way that he spoke highly ... erotic.

I moved my right hand until my middle finger was pressing against Lizbeth's tight anal opening. Then I gently pushed it inside her, and started moving it in to the first knuckle and out of her. She liked what I was doing, and let me know so with a soft moan along with nestling her cheek into my shoulder.

I continued working my finger into her anus, but we both kept our attention on Dennis and Beatrice. Without appearing to give the matter another thought, Beatrice leaned forward and kissed the crown of his hard shaft, and absorbed the drops of pearly fluid escaping from the slit in the top as she did so.

"Alright, now take it in your mouth," Dennis ordered. Obediently, her eyes closing, Beatrice opened her mouth wide and engulfed the thick tip of his cock in her salivating mouth.

"Watch your teeth, darling," Dennis warned. "A man's cock is very..." the feel of her young inexperienced tongue on his pulsing cock made him hesitate."Sensitive," he hissed raggedly.

Then I got a wild idea, and began running my fingers to Lizbeth's pussy then to her anus, bringing back some of her juices with each trip. She apparently realized what I was planning, and softly shook her head as she whispered "No" into my shirt. So, this little angel didn't want me coming in her back door; or did she?

Well, we'd see about that. I whispered in her ear for her to lift herself up and move forward just a bit. She again softly told me no, but I was insistent and took it upon myself to lift her up by her beautifully soft ass cheeks and urged her forward just enough to line my cock up with her tiny puckered hole. Then I let her down, shifting one hand to my cock to guide it in while holding her up with the other.

We remained at that impasse for the next few minutes. I didn't force myself upon her any further, and Lizbeth didn't try to remove me from my current gain on her anal orifice. What we did was watch her sister suck Dennis' sturdy member.

Beatrice seemed to have a natural affinity for cocksucking. Within moments, half of his cock was swallowed into her mouth, laved with saliva as she swept her tongue around it. Even the occasional touches of teeth were erotic rather than painful.

Beatrice listened happily to his groans and hisses of pleasure. Dennis raised both hands to her head, guiding her mouth into a rhythm that would lead to a swift conclusion. But he later confided in me that at some future time he would tutor her so that she would spend more than an hour in fellating him. Of this I had no doubt at all, for later that night I had the singular pleasure of her mouth on my own member, and delighted in her abilities at providing pleasure with her mouth and tongue.

Lizbeth and I heard him gasp a warning to her, "Beatrice, I'm about to come!" His voice was steady, but I could tell he was having difficulty forming his words.




October 1947



"When I do, a lot of juice is going to shoot out of my cock and into your mouth. I want you to swallow it all darling."

Beatrice hummed her agreement over his cock, bobbing her head a little bit faster.

"He's going to fill her mouth with his spunk," I whispered into Lizbeth's ear.

She nodded her head in agreement at the exact same speed as Beatrice was bobbing up and down on Dennis' prick.

"Let's see if we can do it," I whispered again.

There being no objection on Lizbeth's part, I lifted her up and maneuvered my dick until I thought it at her entrance. I began lowering her, gripping my cock tightly, found her back door and wedged inside about a half inch, at which she balked at first, then moaned and husked, "Go on, put it in there."

What followed was a soft 'pop' which we both heard, for the two of us froze until we were quite sure what had happened. And it was right at that instant that Lizbeth surprised me, slipping right into an intense orgasm without any warning whatever.

She buried her face into my shirt, moaned loudly and began driving herself down onto my straining cock while fingering her own pussy. In just a couple minutes she was coming down from her peak, and I was almost completely embedded inside her ass.

Moments later, Dennis grunted, arched his head back and began to discharge his semen into her eager, receptive mouth. Although startled by the force of his ejaculation, Beatrice struggled to swallow everything that came into her mouth. He was deep enough in her throat that she couldn't actually taste anything, but she could feel the fluid flowing through the underside of his cock, pulsing in time with his spurts.

Finally, Dennis groaned and rolled away from her, drained and sweating. Beatrice collapsed beside him. Unexpectedly, Dennis grabbed her and pulled her into a quick, hard kiss, voraciously thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Beatrice responded helplessly, feeling the arousal flare up again. She had the sudden thought that he might be able to taste his own juices in her mouth. It didn't seem to bother Dennis, so she dismissed it as normal behavior.

Later on, while Beatrice was nestled in my arms, she told me that the very idea of swallowing his essence brought about an intense shaft of pleasure in her cunny.

At any rate, watching them kiss after he'd cum in her mouth did it for me. Unable to contain myself any longer, I grasped Lizbeth's skirt, pulled it up, and told her to hold it tight. For the first time I had an unparalled view of Lizbeth's flanks and rear end.

I began lifting and lowering her on my shaft, but Lizbeth soon took over and began raising herself up and down. Then she turned to face me and we were suddenly engaged in a wild French kiss as she tried to once again choke me with her tongue. The sensations I was feeling were nothing short of incredible; like nothing I had ever experienced before. Her ass was so incredibly tight and warm and willing, and I continued to receive the most intense sensations ever.

A satisfied moan came from Lizbeth's throat as she began to grind herself down upon my shaft. A few wriggles later and I found myself totally immersed in her ass. Lizbeth moaned happily and leaned into me, burrowing her face into my neck.

"It's ... it's been so long, Roy. It's been so long. Please ... be careful of the baby."

"I will," I said, and meant it.

It was a fairly awkward position for me, and so I got my hands under her rump and lifted her several inches then jack-hammered my dick into her.

"Oh, God, Roy ... Oh, God! You have to stop. That feels too, too..." she couldn't complete the sentence.

"Too good?" I inquired. "Too hot, too wet, too ... delicious?" With each descriptive word my cock seemed to sink until it finally hit bottom.

"The baby! The Baby!" Lizbeth cried out. "Be careful!"

"Let's try another position, shall we?" I said and Lizbeth nodded her head in agreement. The next few moments, were a scramble to divest our clothing and the only sounds were rustling clothes and heavy breathing.

For a change it was Dennis and Beatrice watching us. And we put on a performance they wouldn't soon forget.

I decided to abandon her ass while the others watched and had Lizbeth place a leg up on the divan then entered her hairy cunt from behind.

This was an immediate success.

Lizbeth moaned happily, "Yes, that's it! That's it!"

And to make her enjoyment even better, I sought out her clit, and on finding it, rubbed it repeatedly while her cries of satisfaction raised several decibels.

We were both overly excited from the long buildup that started in the theatre, bloomed in the cab ride, and reached high, passionate levels when I was fingering her on the divan. As a consequence, we both reached our orgasms fairly quickly.

I came first, spewing my load into her; that seemed to trigger Lizbeth's into her second climax.

We lay on the divan, shuddering and breathing heavily. I was on top of her, but held most of my weight off her with my elbows.

I don't recall when it was that we changed partners. No one demurred. I remember that little fact, and so I found myself on the bed with Beatrice while Dennis had moved Lizbeth to the sofa, where we could no longer watch him perform.

Not that it mattered a damn to me. I can't speak for Beatrice, but since we kissed one another for at least half an hour, with real, not simulated passion flowing from one mouth to the other and back again, I'd think she was alright with the switch.

Beatrice's hands were busy rubbing the sides of my face, through my hair, or across my back and shoulders. My cock had apparently turned into a steel rod, and I was rubbing it gently against her right hip. Then, almost without thinking, my hand gently slid down and took a cone-shaped breast in each hand and began really squeezing, kneading and gently pinching both of them. I felt rather than heard her moans from all this activity, and knew for a certainty that, in just a few minutes, I would have my cock buried deeply inside this incredibly lovely virgin; although I would be taking the same hole previously occupied by my colleague, James Dennis.

I turned her over onto her back and, moving my hand down, rubbed her inner thighs as she began to pull at her very erect, perfect nipples.

From the other room I clearly heard Lizbeth gasp, "Yes! There, right there!"

I longed to see what he was doing to her to elicit such cries, but realized that I had the real beauty right below me, and I had better do something about it before she decided to see what her sister was doing. So I slid down her silken skinned body until my head was just an inch from her sweet womanhood. I pressed my face forward into her sweet crease and flicked my tongue wildly. Moving slightly I found her clitoris, and concentrated my efforts right there for the next few minutes.

My sucking, licking and general gentle oral agitation of that sensitive little bud brought her rapidly to the edge of her orgasm, and that's when I decided to try an experiment on her. Back in high school, I had played the tuba in the school band, and had been acclaimed for what I considered a rousing version of Hold that Tiger.

At any rate, when I applied the standard vibrating lips blow, a technique every horn player uses to her clit, the result was to see her actually levitate several inches off the bed while screaming out from what apparently was a non-stop orgasm. That included having her shower me with a stream of what I thought at first to be piss, but Dennis and Lizbeth rushed into the room and stood at the side of the bed. Lizbeth demanded to know what I'd done. When I told her, she wanted to know why I hadn't done it to her. Dennis quickly assured me it wasn't piss at all, but Beatrice had had the most powerful of orgasms.

In answer to Lizbeth's demand, I lied, and said, "Because of the baby," and that soothed her feelings enough to earn me a caress that ended with her cupping my balls and sucking my cock.

She was good. She was definitely an accomplished cock sucker. Her technique was pretty straight forward, starting at the tip with a swirling tongue and quickly swallowing my entire length and then upped the suction while stroking me repeatedly from tip to base. I have always prided myself on my staying power under difficult situations, but this was something I was not prepared for.

I didn't last five minutes before filling her mouth, throat and belly with an unbelievable quantity of my seed. I'm talking at least six forceful spurts and a lot of dribble. She moaned, slurped, sucked, and managed to seize every single drop without so much as a moist fleck escaping. She was that good.

But then, she didn't stop. I mean she kept going, sucking my cock hard and fast until there was absolutely no chance of my going soft after that tremendous cum. Then, without any hesitation, she moved up to straddle me with her knees on either side, and she sat down on my rock hard dock, taking the entire length inside her in one downward plunge. She gasped audibly at pleasurable sensation of being filled with my cock and in doing so, pleased me no end.

After that we kissed for four or five minutes, during which time, Dennis carried Beatrice into the living room and fucked her up the ass again.

When I found out about it later, I couldn't believe he hadn't taken her cherry, but then he had promised her he wouldn't. Apparently, he was a man of his word.

But Lizbeth and I were not finished. She began rising up and down on my pole. Her movements were barely noticeable at first, but in just a few minutes she was stroking five inches on each rise. We ended our kisses when I began to match her rhythm only to have her increase her upward movements.

"The baby, Lizbeth," I huffed.

She gave a lewd laugh and said: "Fuck me, don't worry about the baby!"

It was all I could do to hang on and dislodge myself from her tight, sweet cunt, but I managed it and soon matched her stroke for stroke until she moved off me and hissed, "Do me like you did Beatrice! Do it now, for fuck's sake!"

I had my mouth on her twat in record time, and after a couple of misplaced licks and kisses, I remembered why I was down there and gave her clit an inspired stanza of vibrating lips and brought her to the most fulfilling orgasm of her young life. It took her a full minute to regain her breath and she was still quivering some ten minutes later.

Not wanting to make the same mistake I had with Beatrice, i.e. not holding her as she had her multiple orgasms, I kissed Lizbeth and held her close, whispering sweet nothings to her until she had calmed considerably.

The four of us were now in the bedroom. Dennis kissed Beatrice, and then began fondling Lizbeth's milk-filled breasts.

"Are you lactating, Lizbeth?" he asked. Dreamily, she nodded her head affirming the fact, and then verbalized it, saying, "Yes, I am. It's a kind of pre-milk, Mr. Dennis."

"Please, let's not be so formal, Lizbeth. Call me James; certainly not Mr. Dennis."

Dennis then went on to say: ""I must tell you Lizbeth, some women look overwrought when pregnant, showing the weight of the demands pregnancy places on their bodies. Other women, like yourself, bloom like flowers, glowing with a certain undeniable radiance of the life growing within them."

"Why Mr. Den..." Lizbeth caught herself and switched to "James, that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in ages."

Dennis sat back on his hunches and studied the sisters. Both girls flushed under his scrutiny. I started to interrupt him, but he waved me off, saying: "The two of you are quite similar, almost twinish. Different colored hair, but in all other aspects it would seem ... well, it would if we take into account the state of your pregnancy, of course."

"What are you doing?" I had to ask.

"Roy, I'm simply comparing the girls, I don't think they mind."

He hadn't asked them if they did object, but the sister's didn't seem to mind his comparing and contrasting of their respective bodies. In Beatrice's case, I suspect it was the first time anyone had openly discussed her beauty, and she appeared to like the complements she and Lizbeth were receiving.

Lizbeth certainly was enjoying his comments, so I didn't pursue the matter.

"Look at Beatrice's breasts and the natural slope they have to them. I'm reminded of the snowy peaks of the Andes, or the Alps.

"And Lizbeth's ... ah, magnificent in their fullness, standing out probably a full cup size large than normal. Areolas enlarged and nipples shades darker than Beatrice's and stubby as they ready themselves for the daily suckling of her soon to be born child."

Lizbeth laughed delightedly at his words, rubbing a hand over the smooth, taut flesh of her swollen belly.

"Tell me, Lizbeth, are you horny most days now?"

She laughed, and said, "Yes, I am!"

Beatrice was embarrassed at her sister's admission and covered her face with both hands.

"Beatrice," I said calmly, "Don't let him get to you.

"Indeed, don't let me get to you ... oh, but I've already gotten to you, Roy, haven't I?"

I stood up, fists clenched.

Everyone went silent waiting for Dennis' his next words.

"Tell you what, Lizbeth," he said softly, "why don't you be a dear and let him suckle from your breast? I'm sure that will calm his nerves."

I sat back down next to Lizbeth. Lizbeth made no reply to the request, but lifted her left breast and positioned it close to my mouth. I had no choice but to accept the offering the moment her hard nipple brushed my lips. Lizbeth's hand went behind my neck and drew me closer. The nipple had a sweet taste, as I gave a tentative suck. To my surprise and delight, unlike the last time when I received a snippet of nectar from her breast, this time a gush of milk suddenly filled my mouth.

I cupped the breast to insure I didn't lose it, and still sucking compared it with that of the milk I might buy at the corner grocer's. It was definitely thinner and perhaps sweeter. I lost track of what was going on as I savored the essence of it all, and suddenly my mouth was full of milk and started to dribble from between my lips.

Everyone laughed delightedly at my predicament, including myself.

And after swallowing the brunt of her gift, I discovered that that action caused even more milk to flow from Lizbeth's teat. Greedily I swallowed then sucked and then swallowed again, while the others laughed with Lizbeth laughing the loudest.

A minute or so later, I noticed the breast was diminishing in size. I wiggled a finger at Dennis, hopefully telling him that he should try the other breast. He picked up on my signal and moved in, and as I had, cupped the other breast and gave suck.

Lizbeth moaned. It was obviously a sound of sexual gratification. When she opened her eyes and saw me staring at her, she giggled and said, "With the two of you nursing on me I had a thrill that went from nipples to pussy. Wow! I never thought..."

She stopped talking because at that moment, Beatrice placed her mouth on the teat I had relinquished and began sucking feverishly on it.

Lizbeth kissed the top of her sister's head, and cooed, "Oh, that's sooo nice, Beatrice, sooo nice."

Lizbeth's thighs began to part and Dennis' hand was quick to slide through her hairy blonde bush and sink two fingers into her furnace.

"Oh, James!" she moaned as he continued to suck and finger her. She might have said more, but Beatrice picked that moment to stick her middle finger in her sister's mouth.

Lizbeth fastened her lips around it and sucked hard. Was she pretending it was a cock, or had she a penchant for fingers?" I wondered.

The next thing I asked myself was: Why was I wasting time?

I began fondling Beatrice's breasts, caused her nipples to grow hard and expand in length and then I took the nearest one and sucked it into my mouth. She moaned and I bit down on it, causing her to cry out. I didn't know or care if it was from pain or pleasure or both. And when I did it again, she took her breast from me and gave me the other, and I repeated the process only to have her hand go round my neck and hold me even tighter to her breast.

Lizbeth's breasts had become sore and she pushed us away from them, informing us that she was quite finished for the evening.

But Dennis asked Beatrice if she would like another fuck before we left, and received a happy, "Yes, certainly, sir!"

So Dennis fucked her up the ass while Lizbeth and I snuggled next to them, watching his cock pull her asshole out what seemed an incredible way before he slammed back into her.

"It really does stretch, doesn't it?" Lizbeth marveled to me.

"Yours did as well," I told her and saw her flush with excitement.

"Would you like another back there?" I inquired.

"Not tonight, no thank you. If we meet tomorrow, though..."

"Yes?" I said expectedly.

"I would certainly entertain the thought of that lovely cock of yours stretching me out like that," she giggled.

Dennis was just finishing off his ass fuck of Beatrice about then, and I was astonished to hear him say, "Beatrice, my love, would you like to have Roy's cock back there now?"

"Oh, yes! It would be my pleasure. Roy? Come on, put it in me!"

And so I mounted her from behind and humped the hell out of her for the next three or four minutes, squishing in and out of her cum filled asshole, splashing Denis' semen all over the place until I emptied my sacs into her anus and the resulting sucking sound informed me that my seed was also being forced from her anus onto everything nearby.

I was finished for the night and knew it.

We had another round of drinks before we bid the lovely sisters adieu, but we did, after arranging to visit with them the following evening. But as nothing unusual occurred that night, I won't burden the reader with what went on then, except to say, that when we left town, Beatrice was still a virgin, and her sister, Lizbeth, had a very well fucked glow on her face.

What follows I learned several days later after talking with Beatrice and Lizbeth, both together and separately. It was a notable lesson in how women react to men and what they're actually capable of on their own.

Beatrice: "I awoke at dawn as usual. I recall stretching lethargically, and wondering why I felt so achy all over. Then the memories came flooding back, and with them mortification. How could I have surrendered myself to such lustful acts? Not only with two men, but also with my sister as an active participant?

Lizbeth: "Nonsense, Sis. You're not mortified at all. For God's sake, you did it with them on the train and then the next day you and I did almost everything imaginable with them."

Beatrice: "But I ache all over! My thighs, arms, back and ... and behind are sore."

Lizbeth: I bet it's a good sore though. I know I'm sore too, but in a delicious, pleasurable way. I needed a good fuck. You'll come to know what I mean. A woman needs a good fucking every once in a while. Oh, I could have lain in bed all day reliving last night's moments." She laughed happily. "I didn't get much sleep, although I feel rested. I lay there thinking about the two of them; comparing them."

Beatrice: "You compared them?"

Lizbeth: Of course I compared them! And they were both wonderful although both were different in many ways."

Beatrice: "Yes, I would say the same thing about them; wonderful, but different."

Lizbeth: "So tell me, Beatrice, did you want them to take your virginity?"

Beatrice: "Honestly? Yes. There was a time with each of them that I wanted to scream, 'Take it! Do me the honor of taking it!' but I managed to control myself, at least to that extent."

Beatrice suddenly found herself enfolded in a warm hug. And a moment later, Lizbeth was setting a brimming plate of bacon and eggs in front of the stunned, openmouthed younger sister.




October 1994: Paula vs. Saskia



Hi Readers,

Recently I received an email from someone requesting a prequel to the Sarah/Wendy stories involving Saskia and Paula during their time at The Society, so I decided to write an account of their fourth and final fight.

Hope you enjoy it,

MELD.

***********************

"Are you sure you want me to drop you off here love? I can go up the drive if you want," said the taxi driver as they pulled up at the ornamental gates.

"No it's fine thanks, I'll walk the rest of the way," replied Saskia, grabbing her bag and taking out her purse.

"Okay love, fair enough, that'll be three twenty please."

"There you go; can I be picked up here around half eleven tomorrow and taken back to the station?" 

"Erm...yeah sure I can manage that," the driver smiled.

"Thanks."

"Alright luvvie, see you tomorrow; have a nice evening."

"Hmm, yeah thanks," said Saskia, just managing a half hearted smile as she got out of the car. As it pulled away, the blonde looked up the long driveway to the grand facade of Boxten Hall; whatever was going to happen tonight, it probably wasn't going to be 'nice'. Picking up her bag, she slowly trudged up the drive, the October sun streaming through the trees that ran along it, their leaves all the shades of autumn. Eventually she reached the end of the drive and ambled round the side of the Hall, through the archway and into the courtyard; as always, Perkins was waiting by the oak doors.

"Good afternoon Miss Darlington," the butler smiled warmly, "I trust you had a pleasant train journey from Oxford."

"Erm...yes thank you Perkins," the young blonde replied quietly.

"You are in room 9 this week Miss," said Perkins as they stepped through the doors.

"Oh, okay; have any of the other girls arrived yet?" Saskia inquired nervously.

"I believe Miss Harte, Miss Webster and Miss Taylor are already here but I am not aware of any others.

"Oh...right," the blonde sighed.

'Brilliant, Paula fucking Taylor,' she thought, feeling her insides wince. She knew that if they were both there on the same night, it was quite likely that Lady Patricia would put them against each other. Following the butler up the stairs to the accommodation wing, they arrived at room 9.

"Here we are," chirped Perkins, unlocking the door and handing her the key, "do you require anything else Miss?"

"Erm yes, can I have a large rum and coke with ice please Perkins?"

"I shall have Maria bring it up directly," he replied in his deep tone.

"Thank you Perkins."

Stepping inside the room and closing the door behind her, she flopped down on the bed, glum faced. For the most part, she enjoyed competing at The Society; since her debut almost two years ago, she had become a fearsome competitor that the other girls dreaded facing, well, most of them anyway; there were perhaps two girls for whom the prospect of facing Saskia held no fear. One was Belle Hughes, a Rubenesque woman who had dominated The Society ever since its creation 8 years earlier, the other was Paula Taylor.

She was a powerful brunette in her mid twenties who was very popular with the members, unlike Saskia, who had almost gone out of her way to become something of a pantomime villain, regularly getting booed by the audience; not that it bothered her, in fact she reveled in it. Since Paula's arrival about year ago, Saskia had faced her 3 times and every time Saskia had led, only for the brunette to fight back and get a draw, much to the delight of the members. She had real gift for getting right under the young blonde's skin, and she knew it, winding her up until she lost focus and then taking advantage. 

Getting up off the bed, she sighed and looked out of the window; just then, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, she found Maria standing there with a tray.

"Your drink Miss," the maid smiled nervously, handing the tray over.

"Thank you," the blonde replied coldly, closing the door and taking a large swig from the glass. 

"Oh well, I don't even need to see tonight's schedule card do I?" she muttered to herself as she switched on the TV and flopped back down on the bed. Disinterestedly flicking through the channels, she had already resigned herself to the fact that she would be facing Paula...

A few doors along in room 12, Paula stepped out of the bathroom and picked up the phone.

"Hello room 12," a voice answered.

"Hello, could I have a G&T with ice sent up please?"

"Of course Miss, it will be with you shortly."

"Thank you."

Putting down the receiver, she sat on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. It had been a few weeks since her last visit to Boxten, she had decided to decline her friend Laura's last invitation because she didn't want to start spending too much time there; not that her husband cared that much, he didn't even ask where she was going, but with things getting worse between them she decided to telephone Patricia and ask her to put her on the schedule just to get away from him for a while. Unfortunately Laura couldn't take her there this week because she was in Canada for a job interview so she had to make her own way down. The only down side was she missed her little girl, Wendy; with her only being a toddler she sometimes felt guilty leaving her for nearly a whole weekend with him, but to be fair David was a good Dad and Wendy adored him, he was just a crap husband; she knew he was seeing that little tart in Sheffield when he was away during the week with his job; so if he was off having fun, why shouldn't she? 

A knock at the door snapped her out of her daydream; answering it, she found Amy, one of the maids standing there with her drink.

"Hello Amy," Paula smiled warmly.

"Good afternoon, your drink Miss," the ginger haired girl replied, handing over the tray.

"Thank you; tell me Amy, do you know if Miss Darlington is here today?"

"Yes I believe she is Miss, according to my colleague."

"Oh right, okay."

"Will that be all Miss?" 

"Yes, thank you Amy," said Paula, closing the door and leaning back on it.

"Ohhh great," she sighed, smiling to herself, "here we go again."

Sitting back down on the bed, she took a sip from her glass and shook her head. She had a feeling that she would be facing Saskia sometime soon as it had been five months since their last clash, a very fiery encounter in which she had just about managed to hang on for a 2-2 draw. It was one of those match ups that the members enjoyed immensely and they were always on Paula's side, raucously cheering her on in the hope that she would beat the snotty blonde; so far no one had managed it. 

Other than Belle, Saskia was generally considered to be the best fighter at Boxten; yet for some strange reason which Paula couldn't fathom, Patricia had never pitted them against each other, preferring to keep matching the blonde up against her, this now being the fourth occasion in the space of a year, if her suspicions were confirmed. Apart from the fact she was a student at Oxford, Paula didn't really know that much about Saskia or how she had or how she had come to be at The Society, although she had heard some rumour about a member of her own family persuading her to join as a 'character building exercise.' 

For Paula, her journey to Boxten had started just over a year ago. She met Laura when she joined her local gym; she was quite an attractive buxom middle aged blonde with a warm friendly personality. Over the following weeks the pair became good friends, going for evenings out to the pub or a restaurant or the cinema and so on. Then one evening Laura asked her if she'd like to go somewhere different; when Paula asked where, the older women smiled and said it was a surprise. Intrigued, Paula said yes and just over an hour later they arrived at the huge stately home.

At first Paula was shocked when Laura explained what they were there for, but within minutes of watching her first fight, she was mesmerised, the atmosphere in the room was amazing. At the end of the evening Laura introduced her to Patricia and she offered her the chance to compete at the next event; without hesitation, she eagerly said yes and two weeks later she made her debut.

Taking another sip from her glass, she closed her eyes and smiled as her thoughts went back to that night; her opponent was a tall ginger haired girl called Gillian Stokes. She remembered her body was covered in freckles and her eyes were a beautiful vibrant shade of blue. Unfortunately, her career got off to a losing start as Gillian easily swept her aside 3-0; but she did get her first victory a few weeks later, a 3-1 win over a stocky little brunette called Vicky Addison, forcing her to withdraw in the eighth minute. After that, she went on a steady run of wins...and then she had her first encounter with Saskia.

That night was to be the start of a very bitter rivalry, or at least it was as far as the blonde was concerned; Paula on the other hand had always treated it as more of a joke, taking every opportunity she could to wind her up. 

Finishing her drink, she smiled as she pictured Saskia strutting towards her in the arena, wearing her trademark wrap around shades.

"Silly tart," she sniggered, getting up off the bed and heading to the bathroom for a shower...

***********************

Looking over at the clock, Saskia switched off her walkman and put it back in her bag.

"Half seven, I suppose I'd better go for a shower in a bit," she muttered to herself, getting up off the bed; she was just about to start undressing when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, she found Amy holding her robe.

"Here you are Miss."

"Thank you."

Closing the door, she took the schedule card out of the robe pocket and read it.

SATURDAY 15th OCTOBER 1994. 

Miss Deborah Webster vs Miss Sonya Farrington

Miss Tina Berkley vs Miss Veronica Harte

Miss Georgina Howard vs Miss Tracy Fletcher

Miss Paula Taylor vs Miss Saskia Darlington

"Huh, surprise fucking surprise," the blonde groaned, screwing up the card and dropping it in the bin by the dressing table, "Fine, so be it."

Slipping out of her clothes, she folded them neatly and placed them on the bed before making her way to the bathroom...

"Just a minute!" yelled Paula, hearing the knock at the door; putting on her dressing gown, she opened it.

"Aah, hello Maria," she smiled.

"Good evening Miss, your robe." 

"Thank you, are you escorting me tonight?"

"I think so Miss," replied the maid.

"Okay see you later," said Paula, closing the door. A quick look at the schedule card confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh well, round four it is then," she smiled, taking the red bikini bottoms off the hanger and slipping them on. Tying her hair back into a ponytail, she then pulled on her robe and stood in front of the mirror, hands on hips.

"Yep, that'll do," she smiled, leaning closer and checking her make-up. Lying back down on the bed, she leaned back on headboard, picked up her book and waited for the maid to return...

Tying up the sides of her black bikini bottoms, Saskia sat down on the floor and began her stretching exercises; with the adrenalin already building within her, she was determined to beat Paula this time, well, not just beat but totally humiliate her and wipe that smug grin off her face once and for all. Perhaps then Patricia would let her face Belle so that she could prove that she was the best fighter at Boxten; she was beginning to suspect that she kept putting her against Paula as some sort of test. Finishing her exercises, she stood up, slipped on her robe and put a brush through her shoulder length platinum blonde hair, her steel grey eyes glaring back at her in the mirror.

"I will fucking bury you this time Taylor," she hissed, slamming the brush back down on the dressing table...

Hearing the knock the door, Paula got up and smoothed down her robe, checking herself in the mirror one final time.

"Well, here goes," she said, taking a deep breath as she opened the door.

"Good evening Miss."

"Hello Maria," smiled the brunette, stepping out into the corridor; looking along, she watched as Amy knocked on the door of room 9. Seconds later her opponent appeared, as usual wearing her shades.

"Oh Jesus," Paula smirked, shaking her head.

Looking at her watch, Maria gave Amy the nod and they then made their way to the main room in silence. As they stood at the double doors waiting for Patricia to introduce them, Paula stood relaxed, smiling with her hands by her sides, whilst Saskia was stony faced looking straight ahead with her arms folded. Eventually Patricia made her way out to the centre of the mat to address the audience.

"Now then ladies, we come to tonight's final match; a pairing which on previous occasions has proved to be most entertaining. Firstly, could you please welcome Miss Paula Taylor."

To rapturous applause, Paula strode confidently on to the mat with Maria by her side. Waiting in the centre was Norma, the referee; a rather scary ex military policewoman who stood at almost six feet. Dressed in her black jeans and t-shirt with her short cropped brown and her muscular arms folded, she gave off an intimidating air.

"And now her opponent; ladies, I give you Miss Saskia Darlington."

The applause died down a little and was joined by a few boos coming from some of the members sitting at a corner table. 

"Oh shut up you bunch of old harpies!" the blonde sneered, giving them a dismissive brush of her hand as she passed. Making her way to the centre of the mat, she stood toe to toe with her opponent.

"Hello there," said Paula, smiling at the blonde with her cold expression and dark glasses, "come on Sassie, give us a smile," she giggled, sticking out her tongue, a ripple of laughter coming from the audience.

"Piss off Taylor!" the blonde snapped.

"Oh good, I see you're in a good mood," Paula smirked.

"Right, robes off please girls!" barked Norma.

Taking off the glasses and putting them in the pocket, Saskia then slipped off her robe and handed it to Amy. Paula then removed hers and the pair looked each other up and down. Both girls had slender athletic figures, with Paula having a slightly tanned complexion.

"Right, you both know the rules and you both know I won't stand for any fucking about; you do what I say when I say it, clear?" said Norma, looking at each girl in turn.

Both girls nodded.

"Right, kneel."

As they knelt down, Paula gave Saskia a playful wink.

"Ready?...Go!"

"Come on Sas," the brunette purred, offering her open palms.

Saskia grabbed them and their fingers interlocked, the blonde pushing for all she was worth, trying to get Paula off balance. After around thirty seconds, she seemed to be gaining the upper hand.

"Oww...Jesus!" Paula gasped, the pain shooting through her wrists as Saskia bent them back. With a sudden shove, the blonde pushed her on to her back and held her down by her wrists.

"Gotcha...you cocky bitch!" she hissed, kissing down towards Paula's breasts.

"Aaaahh...ohhh God!" she groaned wantonly as felt the teeth grip round her right nipple as Saskia began to suck; she then cried out as the blonde grabbed her left nipple and twisted...hard.

"AAAAAGGHH...FUCK!"

Reaching down, she began to untie Saskia's bikini bottoms; yanking them away, she landed four hard slaps on the blonde's bare ass.

"AAAAAAGGHH BITCH!" she yelped, releasing the brunette. Instantly Paula sat up, rolled her on to her back and slipped her hand between her legs.

"Aaaaahh...no...no!" the blonde gasped as the fingers rubbed against her clit; kicking her legs, she tried to wriggle away.

"Ohhh no you don't," smiled Paula, lying across her and pushing her fingers deeper inside.

"OHHHHH FFFUCK!"

"Come on Saskia, let go," Paula whispered, thrusting her fingers and rubbing the rock hard clit with her thumb.

"No...nnoooo...bitch," the blonde groaned, shaking her head; closing her eyes she slammed her fists into the mat as the audience cheered her opponent on.

"You're close, I know it," the brunette growled, thrusting harder.

"No..no...ohhhhh God..fffuuck...nooo!"

"Come...come Saskia!"

Feeling the butterflies in her stomach, she knew she couldn't hold on. With the cheers of the audience ringing in her ears, she screamed as the climax tore through her, her steel grey eyes fixed on her smiling opponent.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH YYYEEEEAAAHHH!"

"Score Miss Taylor, 1-0," Norma announced. 

With a broad smile on her face, Paula stood up to take the audience's applause as her opponent lay whimpering on the mat, hands covering her face.

"Bitch!" she scowled, finally getting back up to her knees and wiping her eyes. Regaining her composure made her way back to the centre where Paula was waiting.

"Ready?...Go!"

Giving an angry shriek, Saskia launched herself at the smirking brunette, knocking her on to her side.

"Ooowwff...shit!"

"You fucking bitch!" the blonde screeched, tearing off Paula's bikini bottoms and throwing them into the audience. Rolling her on to her back, she resumed her assault on her nipples.

"AAAAOOOWW FFFUCKIN SLU...AAAAGH!" Paula screamed, reaching up and pulling Saskia's hair.

"AAAOOOWW!"

Pushing the blonde off, she pounced on her, the pair rolling back and forth as the boisterous audience whooped and cheered. Suddenly Saskia shoved Paula on to her back, grabbed her arm and trapped it between her legs.

"AAAAGHH FFFUUCK NO...NNOOO!"

"Oh yeah! How d'ya like that, Taylor?" she giggled, pulling back on the trapped arm.

"AAAAAAGHH... NO PLEASE... YOU...AAAAAAGHH!"

"Yeah fuckin' scream bitch!"

"AAAAAOOOWW OH GOD PLEEEASE!"

Paula screamed in agony as Saskia gleefully pulled on her opponent's trapped limb, a wicked smile spreading across her face as Paula's cries mixed with the shouts and boos coming from the audience. Much to the brunette's relief, Norma stepped in.

"Break...SASKIA I SAID BREAK!" the referee stormed.

"Oh sorry Norma, I couldn't hear you," the blonde smirked impishly as she finally released her pleading opponent.

"Don't push it Saskia!" Norma warned as Paula got back up to her knees and rubbed her arm. A few moments later, both girls knelt down in the centre of the mat.

"Ready?...Go!"

With Paula still not fully recovered, Saskia easily pushed her over; slipping between her legs, she began to trib the weakened brunette, extracting helpless gasps and moans from her as she tried to resist.

"Aaaaahh oh God...oh God no no nnnooo!"

"Yes, I've got you...I've got you!" Saskia growled, thrusting down harder as she hooked Paula's leg.

"Aaaaahhh...yes yes..ohhhh ffffuuuck yyeeahh!"

"Sing for me bitch!"

Arching her back, the brunette shook her head as the climax engulfed her, her fingers clawing at the mat.

"AAAAAAAAHHH AAAAHHH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD YYYEEEAAAAHH!"

"Break!"

Getting up, Saskia shrugged and shook her head as she took the audience's somewhat muted applause.

"Score Miss Darlington, 1 all."

Still trying to get her breath back, Paula lay on her back panting, her body drenched in sweat; looking at her from the centre of the mat where she was waiting impatiently, Saskia smiled wickedly to herself, watching as the brunette slowly made her way over and knelt opposite her.

"Ready for another?" the blonde teased.

"You really think you're that good don't you?" Paula smiled, shaking her head.

"I don't 'think' anything, I know it bitch!" said Saskia, glaring at Paula.

"Ready?...Go!"

Both girls lunged forward, their sweaty bodies slamming together and their hands finding it harder to grip. Rolling back and forth, the two fighters clawed at each other like wildcats. Suddenly the blonde slipped and found herself trapped between Paula's powerful thighs; wrapping them round Saskia's midriff, she squeezed.





October 1994: Paula vs. Saskia



"Aaaahh Aaaaahh...fffuck bitch!" she wailed, bucking and wriggling, her legs kicking in all directions.

"Come on then Sassie," Paula whispered, "if you're that good, let's see you get out of this."

"Uuuuuhh oh God...you fu aaahh!"

Squeezing all the fight out of her opponent, Paula moved her hand down between her legs and gently smoothed her fingers over her clit.

"Aaah...ohhh no no...not again, please," Saskia groaned, weakly clawing at Paula's arm and trying to pull it away.

The brunette didn't reply, she simply smiled and slowly pushed two fingers into Saskia's drenched snatch; with the audience cheering her on once more, she began to work them in and out, gradually building the rhythm.

"Aaaaaahh yes...yes ohhh ffuck...please!"

"Ohh yeah, you like that, don't you bitch?" Paula hissed, thrusting the fingers harder as she slipped in a third.

"AAAAAHHHH YYEEEESS OHHHH GOD...YOU BITCH...FFFFUUCK!" the blonde screamed as she felt herself slipping, unable to resist.

"COME ON PAULA! MAKE HER SCREAM!" a voice yelled out from the tables.

Smiling to herself as she felt the muscles spasm round her fingers, Paula grabbed Saskia's nipple and gave it sharp twist as she sent her trapped opponent over the edge.

"AAAOOOWW OHHHHHH GOD YYYEEEEAAAHH!"

A torrent of cum surged from the blonde's pussy and trickled on to the mat; taking her fingers out and licking them, Paula then released Saskia, her limp body rolling away.

"Score Miss Taylor; Miss Taylor leads 2-1 with 4 minutes 58 seconds remaining."

A cheer went up from the audience as Paula stood up and retied her ponytail. Smiling and raising her hand in acknowledgement, she knelt down in the centre. Still lying face down with her head in her hands, Saskia thumped the mat, got up and joined her.

"Ready?...Go!"

Once again, the two fighters slammed together, gasps and groans escaping from their lips as they struggled for an advantage. Both girls were now starting to tire but Saskia's sheer determination seemed to be giving her a second wind; mustering all her strength, she pushed Paula on to her back, hooked her leg and began to trib her once more, grinding down hard on Paula's stiff clit.

"Aaaaaaahh ohhhh God," 

"Bitch!" the blonde scowled, thrusting harder, her rage filled eyes fixed on her struggling opponent.

"OHHHH FUCK NO!" Paula gasped, trying to push back; but was too late, Saskia's relentless assault was already pushing her to the point of no return. Within seconds the brunette's body tensed as a second orgasm coursed through her.

"OHHHHHH YYYEEEAAHH...OH GOD!"

"Score Miss Darlington, 2 all with 3 minutes 31 seconds remaining."

A small ripple of applause went round the room.

"Shit," Paula groaned, dragging herself back to the centre of the mat and kneeling down opposite her smiling resurgent foe.

"Ready?...Go!"

Paula lunged clumsily at the blonde, who simply grabbed her and rolled her on to her back again.

"Uuuuhhh...fffuck."

"Yes...yes!" yelled Saskia; trapping Paula under her knee, she eagerly priesed her legs apart and vigorously rubbed her fingers over the rock hard clit.

"Ohhhh God...you bitch," the brunette groaned, clawing at Saskia's breasts, her fingers slipping down the sweat drenched skin as Saskia smiled down at her.

"You've got nothing left, it's over for you," she purred, pushing her fingers deep into her soaked pussy.

"Oh God...no...no!"

"Ohhh yes, you're mine now bitch."

Paula knew there was no way she could hold out against Saskia's onslaught, there was still too much time left. Arching her back, she tried to push the blonde off, but to no avail, she had her firmly pinned down and the skilled fingers were rapidly sending her over the edge. 

"Aaaahhh no no naaooo!" 

"Yes...YES!" hissed Saskia, working her fingers deeper.

A little over a minute after the second climax, the brunette succumbed to a third, the waves racking her body as tears rolled down her face.

"AAAAAAAAHHHH YEEEEEESSS OH GOD!"

"Score Miss Darlington; Miss Darlington leads 3-2 with 2 minutes 9 seconds remaining."

Standing over her exhausted opponent, Saskia shrugged as the boos rang out once more; grinning mischievously, she cupped her hand to her ear.

"Alright Saskia, that's enough; go and stand over there," said Norma sternly, pointing to a corner. Turning her attention to Paula she knelt down by the brunette.

"Do you wish to continue?"

Looking over to the corner, she could see Saskia standing there, hands on hips with a smug grin on her face. 'There's no way I'm withdrawing, I'm not going to give that bitch the satisfaction,' she thought. Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, she nodded and got up, a cheer rising up from the audience as she knelt down in the centre.

"COME ON PAULA!"

Saskia gave another shrug and knelt down.

"I'm going to make you beg me Taylor," she whispered.

"Ready?...Go!"

Drawing up every last ounce of strength, Paula jumped on the taunting blonde, knocking her on to her back.

"Oooff!"

Getting up on one knee, the brunette grabbed her startled opponent and put her across her outstretched knee in a backbreaker hold.

"AAAAAGGHHH NO NOOO!" she screamed, her arms flailing aimlessly as the cheers broke out once more.

"How's that Sassie, you like that?" 

"AAAAAGGH FFUCK YOU BITCH!"

Pushing down and driving her knee harder into the Saskia's back, Paula gradually sapped all the strength out of the blonde, her body limply draped over her knee. Leaning over, she gently ran her tongue over the soft folds of her pussy and sucked her clit. 

"Oh God!" Saskia gasped, her eyes shooting wide open as she felt the tongue pushing deeper. There was no way she could get free, she was trapped.

"AAAAAHHH OH GOD OH GOD!"

Growling, Paula licked and sucked at the sweet tasting flesh, her opponent beginning to sob as felt herself nearing orgasm.

"Oh God...Paula..please PLEEEASE!"

Ignoring her, Paula sent the blonde over the edge, her body writhing in ecstasy as a shuddering climax washed over her.

"AAAAAAHHHH GOD NNNOOOO!"

When she finally settled, Paula rolled her off her knee and dumped her on the mat, an exhausted groan escaping her lips.

"Ohhhh fuck."

"Score Miss Taylor, 3 all with 43 seconds remaining."

A raucous cheer rose up from the audience as Paula stood up, a relieved smile on her face.

"NOOOO..NO NO NO NO NO!" Saskia screamed, thumping the mat over and over in anger. Knowing she would have to continue just to get the draw, she dragged herself over to centre of the mat to see out the last few remaining seconds.

"Ready?...Go!"

With tears of rage rolling down her face, she lunged at her smiling opponent; but with no strength left, Paula simply grabbed her, threw her face down and jumped on her back, pinning her down.

"Why don't we just have a little lie down?" she whispered, kissing the back of Saskia's neck.

"Bitch! get off me!" the blonde growled, trying to wriggle away.

"You know, I was quite surprised; considering what a sour nasty piece of work you are, you actually tasted quite nice," Paula teased, pushing all her weight down on her trapped foe.

"GET OFF MEEEE!"

To Paula's relief, the gong finally sounded.

"Timed out, draw!" Norma announced to the jubilant audience. To excited cheers and whistles Paula stood up and quickly pulled on her robe. Just as she was about to leave the mat, Saskia suddenly got up and made a lunge towards her but Norma grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

Shrugging, Paula slowly made her way to the double doors.

"TAYLOR GET BACK HERE, WERE NOT DONE YET!" Saskia screamed, trying to break free from Norma's grip. Turning round, Paula smiled at the raging girl.

"Oh yes we are," she purred; blowing her a kiss and waving, she continued on her way.

"DON'T YOU FUCKING WALK AWAY FROM ME, GET BACK HERE!"

Ignoring her, she walked through the doors and out into the corridor.

"BIIIIIIIIITCH!"

With the anger burning inside her, she then turned her fire on Norma.

"Take your fucking hands off me, you bloody working class yobbo!" she scowled, glaring at the big woman. Almost instantly her anger turned to fear as Norma's expression went from relaxed to annoyed; an excited murmur rippling around the room.

"Right Saskia," Norma began calmly, "I can see you're a little upset, so this time I'll let that go, but if you don't leave this room in the next ten seconds, I will embarrass you further in front of these nice ladies by tucking you under my arm and carrying you out of here myself, kicking and screaming like the spoilt little brat that you are, alright?"

Saskia nodded and the referee released her; snatching her robe off Amy, she pulled it on and stomped off as some of the members jeered and booed her. Just as she reached the double doors, she turned round.

"FUCK OFF!"

"OUT!..NOW!" Norma barked, pointing to the door.

Getting up from her seat and thanking the audience for coming, Patricia then went over to her referee.

"You'd better go after her and make sure there's no trouble up there."

"Yes Ma'am.

"And tell Saskia I wish to see her in the drawing room tomorrow morning, 10 a.m. sharp."

"Very good Ma'am."

*******************************

The next morning, Saskia sat waiting in the drawing room with Norma stood in the corner by the door with arms folded and her gaze firmly fixed on the young blonde. After what seemed like a very long and uncomfortable silence, the door opened and Patricia came into the room, sitting down on the sofa opposite Saskia.

"Right Saskia, I think we need to have a little chat, don't we?"

"Yes Ma'am," she replied coldly.

"I understand that you and Paula have something of a rivalry between you both, but I will not tolerate behaviour like your disgraceful outburst at the end of last night's event, is that clear?"

The blonde nodded and looked at the floor.

"I said is that clear?" Patricia repeated in a sterner tone.

"Yes Ma'am." she replied, folding her arms and sighing.

"Good, here's your money," said Patricia, handing over an envelope, "I've docked you thirty pounds."

"WHAT?" Saskia shrieked, jumping up from her seat, "what for?"

"Sit down!"snapped Norma.

"For conduct unbecoming of a lady," Patricia explained as the young girl sheepishly resumed her seat, "I don't want you to think I'm picking on you Saskia, but I expect a certain standard of behaviour from all the girls who compete here and I'm afraid recently yours has fallen a long way short."

"Sorry Ma'am," the blonde muttered, looking back down at the floor.

"I expect to see a marked improvement over the next few weeks, alright?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Right good, off you go."

Letting out a loud sigh, Saskia got up and walked briskly out of the room, shutting the door with slightly more force than was required.

"Huh, a proper little madam that one Ma'am." said Norma, shaking her head.

"She's got drive and ambition; trust me Norma, she'll go a long way," smiled Patricia.

That was to be the last time the two girls faced each other at The Society. Paula had only a few more fights before she decided to quit; as for Saskia, Paula was to be just one of many rivalries she was to have over her long career. Little did they know that their paths were to cross again one sunny afternoon in a wine bar almost two decades later...

Thanks for reading.

MELD.