would go. 'Very… uh… soon!'
I gripped his balls in my hand, and I squeezed hard into them. He groaned in pleasure, in pain, and drove his cock fiercely in and out, matching the up and down plunge of my sucking face. I slid one finger down from the tightness of his hairy scrotum, and I wriggled it into his anus. 'Oh… God!' he cried. 'Now, Sally… nowT I closed my eyes and began to suck. I felt the 90 sperm pumping down the length of his cock. I felt the cockhead opening against my tongue, and then I felt the first drop of his come in my mouth.
The moment the first drop of sperm touched my tongue, I began to come. Suddenly, unexpectedly, like my last orgasm, ripping into my body with absolutely no preparation. An intense, gripping spontaneous orgasm.
Ralph's sperm splashed against my tongue, oozing from the tip of his cock, and my tongue curled it back, and I sucked it down my throat. The sperm was hot, salty perhaps, but that mighf have been my imagination. His cock throbbed in my mouth, and more and more sperm gushed out, until my mouth was coated in the thick, oozing fluid.
'Suck it!' he grunted, crushing my face to his crotch, 'Suck it… Fm comingr
I swallowed the slippery discharge greedily, undulating my throat as drop after drop rolled into my stomach. I sucked hard and deep, jerking him off with my tongue, running it up and down the underside length of Ralph's pulsing cock. My cheeks puffed out with saliva and puddles of sperm, and I pressed them together, bathing the thick fluid over the length of Ralph's cock, baptizing my mouth.
My own orgasm ripped me to pieces, and my cunt quivered as if there was a cock inside of it, fucking me deeply and powerfully. My clit throbbed, and I could feel the lips quivering spasmodically as the orgasm gripped my cunt in fingers of iron.
Finally, Ralph's cock pumped nothing further, but that didn't stop my greedy mouth. I stroked him with my tongue, stabbing him, digging the tip into the oozy opening, searching for more sperm. My lips chewed into the shrinking shaft, wringing him dry, milking him of every last drop of his orgasm.
His cock popped from my mouth. It was shrunken and small. 1 swallowed all the remaining goo in my mouth, trembling with excitement as I felt it slide down into my belly.
A single dribble of sperm oozed feebly from the deflated tip of Ralph's cock, and my lips sought it out'and drew it up into my mouth. I swallowed it, then tried to suck the tired cock again.
Ralph pushed me away. 'No more,' he moaned. 'Please, it hurts… It's too sensitive.'
I fell down against his heavy pillow-like belly and concentrated on the last trembles of my own orgasm. They lasted for almost five minutes.
We stopped in a motel for the night a little later on, and I did it again for Ralph. It's not so bad, really.
CHAPTER FIVE
Herb Button's office was just off Hollywood Boulevard, in a squat-looking skyscraper, very modern looking, that was composed of alternating layers of steel and glass. The glass was tinted a dull green, and the building reminded me of a large, plastic emerald.
The cab pulled up in front of the building, and I paid the driver, tipping him moderately. Ralph had 'loaned' me twenty dollars to get me started, and I promised to pay him back as soon as I got some money at my new job. Of course, there was some interest on the loan, a blow-job and a screw, and that was collected in advance and was coupled with the promise that I would not forget all his help once I 'had it made,' to use his words.
I spent the money very carefully even though I was confident that I'd have no difficulty in getting by. I never realized how resourceful I really was before my solitary trek across the face of America. From New York to Washington, D.C. to California: cost, nothing; gain, twenty-dollars.
The first thing I did with my money was get a place to live. I checked into a small dive of a hotel, The Westphail, that catered to transients. You pay for the room by the day or week. The room was small, but not clean, but I didn't mind too much; it was only a beginning. Once there, I invested a few dollars more, purchased a cheap dress and a hairbrush. That left me with about three dollars, and my cab fare was two-fifty, tip included. So I had fifty cents left and a room that was paid for until eleven o'clock tomorrow morning.
But I was confident. The dress was bright and colorful and it went really well with my sandals. I showered and scrubbed myself down, dried and brushed my hair, and checked myself out in the mirror. My breasts were heavy and full, and if you stared carefully enough, the dark triangle of my crotch could be seen through the thin fabric of the dress. Still, I suspected that that would not be a hindrance; especially if the job I was going for was anything as I had imagined it.
There was a cigar store in the lobby of the green glass building, and I spent half my money on a candy bar. I realized I hadn't eaten all morning. While munching the candy, I wandered over to the building directory and looked for Button's name. I found it alphabetically, listed as:
HERB SUTTON AGENCIES, ING. and it was located on the sixth floor, room 604.
I felt just the faintest flutter of doubt as I stepped into the plastic elevator, but I fought it back. This is perhaps what I need, I told myself. Maybe what I've needed all along. A job of my own. Independence. A paycheck to spend as I see fit-on me alone. Not on the house, not for food, and not for bills. But for me. For things I want. For dresses, for clothing, for shoes, for makeup, and maybe even a beauty parlor once in a while. My own money, my own paycheck, and one day my own apartment. A chance to be free. Maybe that's what I need. Perhaps that's what has been missing from my life.
Music played down upon my head from somewhere above me, and I felt the slight tug of the elevator starting its upward journey. I began to think about what I had just told myself.
I never really had very much freedom, I realized. I lived with my parents, went to a city college so I didn't have to travel, and met Peter there, in a Psych class. We got married when we graduated, lived in the Village for a year, then Peter got his promotion, and we bought a house on the Island. I worked that first year after graduation, as a secretary in New York City, but I had to quit when we moved to the Island. We couldn't afford to have us both commute, and besides, I had the house to take care of.
And that was it. My whole life. All of it spent with in a radius of fifty miles or so. I lived in a house, went to school in a house, and got married and went to live in another house. Never on my own, never living alone, never doing anything with my life other than what was expected of me. Fulfilling my role as a woman in American society. From one closet to another.
I tried-to think about being on my own, but it was so hard to visualize the concept; it was so alien to my previous way of life. My own paycheck; my own clothing-bought by myself; my own apartment -paid for by myself. It was an exciting idea. Freedom. Perhaps, perhaps..,
The elevator jerked to a soft stop, and I got off. Room 604 was off to the right, down a wide marble corridor. The entrance was a frosted double glass door, with black stenciling on it. I read the name twice to make sure, then started to knock. I decided not to, and I opened the door and walked in.
It was a small square room beyond, carpeted with a thick green rug that ran from wall to wall. The ceiling was low, with the lighting recessed behind large frosted glass squares. That gave the room a soft, hazy quality. The walls were painted a light green, and the painting and accessories around the room were also green. There were two large rubber plants pushed into the far corners, one on either side of the wall. The chairs and the sofa were brown leather, and the desk in the center of the room was dark walnut. The whole room was a play-off of green and brown, and with the soft hazy light, it somehow reminded me of a jungle or a forest. I wondered if the impression was an accident or the intention of the designer.
The girl in the center of the room, sitting efficiently behind the large square desk was the only thing that was not green or brown. She was tall and cool and pink, with a long dangling shock of ash blonde hair. Her eyes were aqua blue, and she was wearing a powder blue sleeveless dress. She was strikingly beautiful, and she reminded me of my mental images of California.
She smiled as I walked in, but waited patiently until I walked over to her desk. She asked: 'Can I help you?'
I smiled back, feeling very conspicuous under her gaze. My confidence oozed away like melting butter. I was sure she knew I was naked under my dress, and I tried to cover over my nipples. Had Ralph given me a false lead? I wondered, 96 looking around the room in that split second before I answered. It certainly didn't look like what I
