While his aunt went for the money Keith put on his light jacket. He picked up the photos from the table and shuffled through them. His cock tightened beneath his slacks. Aloud he said, 'Cunt! Cunt! Cunt!'
He didn't hear his aunt come up behind him. 'Don't praise me, Keith. Here's your money.'
Keith took the money and kissed his aunt. 'Goodbye, auntie,' he said. He walked to the door and opened it. He turned to face his aunt. 'If you change your mind, auntie, and want to feel a prick in your cherry cunt, call me.'
'Scat!' Conchi said. 'My cherry, as you call it, goes to my grave with me.'
Keith laughed. 'Want to bet?' he asked.
Chapter 2
If you were to ask Frank Kazarra what he thought about the building, ten to one he'd say 'Magnifico!'
But he's biased! He not only owns it, he also built it.
The six-story edifice is on the corner of Classic Place and Manor Avenue. It is officially called The Kazarra Apartments but the tenants refer to it as The Apartment. It is a luxury dwelling halfway between the University and the main part of town.
The ground floor is given over to little shops where transients and tenants can buy drugs, liquor, and newspapers. A boutique sells fashionable clothing and gifts for women, while a restaurant caters to the stomach of almost anyone who enters the place.
The five stories above the swank entrance consists of three apartments each. The A apartments having two bedrooms while the B and C's have only one. There are neither kids nor real senior citizens in any of these fine apartments. The rents are high, of course, but each accommodation has more than generous floor space and features a bar in the living room and a bidet in the bathroom.
The bidet is an innovation not found in too many bathrooms in America. It is a hygienic fixture on which you sit to wash your so-called private parts. Frank Kazarra had spent a month in France, long enough to become fascinated with the laving bowl. That's why there is one in each of the bathrooms in the fifteen apartments.
The Kazarra Apartments made for easy living. A place for the sensualist, the swinger, the young, and the lovely who can pay the stiff rentals. It is a joint for snobs and has one occupant who is as unique in a bedroom as the bidets are in the bathrooms. She's a virgin!
If you ask Frank Kazarra what he thinks about his neighbor in 6-B, ten to one he'll say, 'Magnifico!'
And he is right. For her age Conchi Thorne is lovely. Pure would be the better word. And there are many men in this world who would pay a large amount of cash for the pleasure of crashing her virginal gate. But who can blame them? In this modern era virgins above the age nineteen are as scarce as pubic hair on a baby.
Conchi Thorne had been born in the same year that the first volume of Hitler's Mrin Kampf was published. Her father was a gentle man, a teacher in high school, who had had only one real fling in his life. He served in the Army with General Pershing when that gallant man was in pursuit of Villa.
Like many gringos Corporal Thorne came to admire the Mexican bandit, and if his first child had been a boy he would have named him Pancho. However, the infant was a girl-the one and only issue from his sperm. He was quick to name her Conchilera over the violent protests of the woman who had carried the fetus for nine months.
It is a strange name to give to a girl who had fair skin and nothing of the Latin temperament. The name raised many questions, to be sure, but the nuns in the parochial schools, who started the girl on the road to her doctorate in philosophy, were confused by it. To them, Mary was the ideal name for a girl child.
Conchi proved to be an exceptional pupil from her first day in school and throughout the years that ended her formal education in the Sorbonne in Paris where she received a coveted Ph.D.
The University where Conchi taught philosophy is smaller than many, but unlike some private colleges it is financially sound and well regarded among educators. Best of all it pays its faculty well, leaving Conchi without a speck of worry about money.
In the years since she had left Paris Conchi had changed little in physical dimensions. Where changes had occurred they were for the better. She had gained five pounds in weight and a possible two inches around her waist. And these changes evened out to make her five-foot, seven-inch height a delight to see. After all, one hundred and thirty-five pounds makes Conchi's body quite voluptuous-the kind of body men see in their fantasies.
Conchi knows that men are sexually attracted to her, but she is without conceit or excessive vanity; and for sure, without any quickening of her sex parts when she is in the company of men. No swelling of clitoris and nipples had ever happened on Conchi's body-which may be the answer to why she is still a virgin.
Yet the idea of sex with a man neither repels nor seems to frighten her; but it doesn't stir her to comply with a man's desire to ravish her either. Yet Conchi's time may come or, as she said, the purity of her vaginal entrance will go to the grave with her.
Her strange rite of taking her nephew's sperm by mouth each week had come to her when she remembered the contents of a book she had read years before. It had been a book on health in which the author argued the point that semen gives tonicity to a woman's flesh. Of course the title and the author of the book were quickly-forgotten, but the argument for the tonic remained in the back of Conchi's mind until a summer ago when she had gone to Central America with a group studying Mayan culture.
The trip was part pleasure and part professional. Conchi wanted to publish a paper on her own findings and so kept notes on what she saw and what happened on the way.
The group probed deeper into the country than the average tourist-even to tenting with a small band of friendly natives. There were not many left, and most of the tribesmen were in middle age. Yet it was their women who were outstanding.
Unlike most Indian women, they had retained the sheen of youth in their flesh, for the brown skin of these natives was as lovely as that of a fourteen-year-old girl.
It was the witch doctor who told Conchi how it was done.
She asked in her weak Spanish, 'How do your women stay so beautiful?'
'They take from the male,' he said. 'They take from sex. They take by mouth.' The witch doctor motioned to an attractive female and continued, 'They take everyday. It drains the man.'
Conchi nodded in understanding. 'Look,' the witch doctor said as his arm moved in a half circle, 'no young-no babies. We are vanishing. The women drain the men to remain young.' The witch doctor smiled. 'But we like it,' he said.
Conchi looked at the young woman who now stood by the witch doctor. All she wore was a miniskirt made of dried grass.
Conchi said, 'Does the witch doctor speak the truth?'
The woman nodded. 'Si, everyday, maybe two times.' She pointed first to her crotch, then to her mouth. 'Once here,' she said, 'once here.' Her golden breasts moved deliciously as she began laughing. 'Men like; we like.'
Conchi returned to The Apartment amazed at what she had seen in Central America. She dwelt on the facts as witnessed by herself. She decided that if semen can keep native women young, why not civilized women? It was a thought she wrestled with for a few months.
She developed a 'thing' about remaining young and beautiful into her old age. It became a fetish with her; a driving desire to secure some man's semen.
Then the thought came to her to approach her nephew. He was young and would have a good supply of sperm to give her. Best of all, he wouldn't talk-she could trust him. And he would not create any problems because she was certain she could control him.
So she approached Keith Broys on New Year's Eve, forcing herself to proposition him. He was to give his sperm to her for the neat price of twenty-five dollars. He could not touch her in any way; he was to deliver his semen by hand. Keith surprised his aunt: he agreed to a weekly arrangement.
The first time he came to Conchi he was shy-shy about undressing so he would be standing nude before her as he jerked off. But with the photos to quicken him and Conchi's lovely body exposed to his eyes, he went avidly to work on his large rod. He always produced a fair amount of come-enough to please his pretty aunt's desire to stay
