10099.
Romo maintained a number of post office boxes under various aliases. He used any of several postal stations within reasonably comfortable walking distance from his apartment. He picked a different station for his ad aimed at anally fixated homophiles:
GUYS WHO LIKE GUYS-Why not meet Mr. Right in the privacy of a luxurious bachelor pad? I provide the partners, you provide the fun. B.Y.O.K.Y! I'm talking about guys who like assholes, blow jobs, hand jobs, the works, but assholes-ah, sweet dimples of lust!-in particular! You must be clean, well educated, and willing to work for the sexual betterment of a like minded group. No introverts, please. Send photo and personal data to P.O. Box 438, Father Hill Station, NYC 10097. All inquiries will remain confidential!
Romo was sure that the authorities were after him, hence the fictitious names, His primary worry, however, was that postal inspectors might get wind of his operation and harass people who replied to his ads.
Thus he was very careful in establishing new post office box numbers. He always tried to deal with a clerk who wouldn't recognize him, and on occasion he hired other people-hippies, GSI members, friends-to rent the boxes for him. He hadn't been nabbed or harassed yet, and he hoped things would remain as safe and relaxed as they had been so far.
Screening the replies to his ads was a pain in the ass. A large percentage of the replies were from crackpots and freaks. Romo had no desire to deal with such people. 'I run an organization for respectable men and women,' he liked to say, and his customers were indeed reputable for the most part if one overlooked their sexual proclivities. Romo believed, doubt correctly, that letting the freaks into his or would increase the likelihood of exposure and ultimate arrest.
Romo sighed as he went to work on the final ad of the morning. It was aimed at voyeurs, specifically those peepers who dug stag films. It was a triumph of copywriting talents:
CINEMA BUFFS, UNITE! We've got the movies-all we need now is the audience, and that means you! See stag flicks, vintage and contemporary, in congenial surroundings with like minded adults. This is a private club, and we can show you the finest erotic movie material available today. Our stuff is hotter than anything you'll see on 42nd Street and of infinitely greater quality than anything you can order by mail. You'll be able to enjoy these classic film works in an audience situation; what you do in the screening room, whether it involves masturbation or making new friends, is entirely up to you! This ad is NOT aimed at derelicts child molesters and dirty old men-rather, it is intended to appeal to those educated, sexually liberated adults whose interests are centered on the silver screen. Reply in confidence to Box 1940, Warren Harding Sta., NYC 10092.
Romo was tired. Writing advertisements might not be strenuous, but it was fatiguing. It wasn't yet noon, and he had been awake for only an hour and a half, but Romo was sorely tempted to go into the bedroom and take a well-earned nap. Instead, he found himself once again reviewing his earlier years… thinking back… There was a certain joy and a certain sorrow in doing that…
There he was, a high school student, and he was going to get his first piece of ass. Oh, it hadn't been promised to him, but he knew he was going to get it. No doubt about it. Luline, a sixteen-year-old bundle of nymphomaniac desires, was going to spread her legs for him. It was a sure thing, as sure as subzero weather in a Minnesota January.
He knew about Luline. Everybody did. There were a good two dozen guys who said they'd fucked her; and Romo had no reason to doubt their stories. Luline was the kind of girl who looked like she did it… She walked sexily and wore short skirts; she let her knees fall open when she sat in class and she licked her lips whenever she chatted with a male teacher or one of the more self-assured boys. Romo had asked her out, and she'd accepted. There wouldn't be anymore petting or finger fucking, not tonight. A bit of foreplay, perhaps, but it wouldn't take Romo long to jet down to basics. Fucking. That was what Luline was all about. She was a fucking machine, a hunk of meat with a gaping pussy in it, and he was going to luck her for all that she was worth.
Romo picked her up at seven and took her to a movie. The film was Dracula Meets the Lizard Man, and it was an artistic disaster. But it turned Luline on and that was what mattered. Romo had heard about her fondness for monster movies, of how she squirmed and giggled every time a reptilian creature slithered across the screen. Phallic symbolism? Romo didn't know. He was a teen-age boy, not a Freudian psychiatrist. What he did know was that he was going to fuck her, probably within an hour or two.
They had cokes at Morrie's Milk Bar when the show was over, and they headed for Luline's car. Lune had to do the driving, since Romo didn't have his license yet, but neither of them cared. Luline drove slowly, provocatively; Romo felt like crying 'Go faster!', like telling her to speed to the local lovers' lane t they could fondle, pant and fuck.
Luline didn't have any doubts as to her own place in Romo's plans, fortunately. She reached the wilderness preserve in due course and parked as if she'd done it a million times before. She probably had, Romo thought with mixed jealousy and amusement. It was funny, but he didn't like the thought that she'd slept with so many other guys. Maybe it was because he hated to face the fact that she was more experienced than he.
'Hi,' she said, turning to face him. She was grinning.
'Hi.'
'I guess you wanted to park, didn't you?' she asked.
'Yeah.'
Luline giggled. 'I'll bet you've heard a lot about me.'
'I sure have.'
'You must think I'm terrible.'
'God, no. I think you're great!' Romo said it so intensely, so sincerely, that he blushed a second after he'd uttered the words. It sounded so adolescent. So goddamned dumb.
Luline licked her lips. The old telltale sign, thank God! 'What do you want me to do?' she asked.
'I want you to undress,' he said.
'Now?'
'Yeah.'
She shrugged. 'Are we going to do it here or on the ground?'
'We'll get dirty if we do it outside the car,' Romo said.
Luline laughed in a way that said Romo was lacking in something-namely, experience. 'There's a blanket in the trunk, stupid,' she said with a wry smile.
Romo was steaming. The girl was trying to make an ass out of him! Still, she wanted to be fucked. She wouldn't have come here with him if she wasn't eager. 'Give me the keys,' he muttered. He took the key ring from her and went to the trunk, where he removed the blanket and spread it out under a nearby tree. In the moonlight he could see the numerous stains from previous escapades. Indeed, the blanket felt stiff in spots, its wool hardened by God knew how many gobs of starchlike semen.
Romo looked around. Luline was already undressing. She had her sweater off and was fiddling with her bra. Romo moved to help her, but she had the strap unhooked before he could reach her. She shrugged the brassiere off her tits casually, as if to remind him that she'd done it a hundred times before. Romo's cock tingled as he saw her breasts. They weren't fantastic, their shape wasn't anything to write home about, but the quantity was something else. They were big, with soft nipples that spread across two inches of flesh at the outermost point of each breast. There was nothing aesthetic about them, and they'd never get into a photo magazine, but they were female. Very female. They were the kind of big, floppy breasts that a fellow could dream of sucking, of sticking his cock between and sliding back and forth till the jism started to flow.
'I-' He was going to compliment her on the magnificence of her breasts, but he stopped himself just in time. She'd merely think him naive. Romo kept his mouth shut and watched as Luline stepped out of her short plain skirt to reveal a cotton half-slip. The petticoat came off quickly, and Romo's guts began to churn as he saw the bulge in her panties where the fabric was strained by an excess of something… labia? Pubic hair?
Luline didn't waste time on seductive nonsense. She pulled the briefs off quickly, and Romo saw what he'd been waiting for. Hair, tons of it, a multitude of curls that grew from the hidden recesses of her crotch up to a point not far below her navel. She had the bushiest twat that Romo had ever seen; he didn't know a girl could be so hairy. It made him uncomfortable at first; was she part male? Was there something unfeminine about a girl
