more of him in me back there than I'd been able to get in front. It wasn't bad, either. I mean, his cock was soft and it felt like I was going to the bathroom, not unpleasant. 'Suck it up some more,' he said, in a hoarse voice.
I worked my muscles and got the hang of it. By working them as if I were cutting off a turd while taking a shit, I was able to suck all of it into me so that it felt like it was maybe three inches up into my anus and then he began to wiggle a little. 'Keep doing it,' he said.
So I did my muscles. He'd pull out a little bit, just a little bit, and I'd suck him back and then he got all excited and I began to feel real good, because his excitement was transferring itself to me. He put his hands down under my waist and worked one of them down until he was fingering my clit. I was pulling his soft cock up into my anus and he was pulling it out and his fingers were milking my clit and all of a sudden I felt myself begin to really enjoy it. Having a soft cock in the ass isn't bad. Having a hard one there, after you learn how, isn't bad, but that was my first and I'm glad it was the way it was, because it taught me that I had two holes for a cock in my bottom without the initial pain of taking a hard one in the ass.
'Come, my beautiful little girl,' he whispered. 'Come for me.'
'Oh, ah,' I said, and came, and while my cunt was throbbing he could feel it in my anus, and he gave a couple of grunts and I felt his soft cock throb and he came in me, giving me my first load of come in my ass.
We stayed in Puerto Rico for three nights. All were fine.
CHAPTER FIVE
In three nights in Puerto Rico I learned a few valuable lessons. I quit saying ain't, for example. I learned that if a girl can give a man what he wants, he'll do almost everything for her. The Congressman offered me a job in Washington. I talked to Pearl about it.
'Honey,' she said, 'you know I want the best for you. I won't tell you that I'm selfish not wanting you to go away just yet.' You see, me and Pearl made it right regularly, and I was getting to sort of like it. I mean, hell, why should a girl reject over fifty-percent of the population of the world as potential sex partners just because they don't have cocks? When we did it it was fun and slow and lovely and sweet and there was always my old boyfriend, Bill, for real cock.
'You could make a good career in Washington,' Pearl said, 'but maybe there's a better way to get what we both want for you.'
What Pearl had in mind was more beauty contests. I think she was a little bit influenced by my being the hottest lover she'd ever had, but she said I was the only really natural beauty she'd ever seen. Well, I was natural, all right.
We went upstate, me wearing my Miss Mackerel crown, and entered the Miss Blueberry contest. I. won. I didn't even have to screw a judge, although there was a nice looking one on the judges panel which I wouldn't have minded screwing, although I found out later that he was a fag.
In that summer I took three more crowns, all local contests. I was a star guest at several other contests, and I was getting a name around my state. Ruby Gore, beauty girl. Pearl started talking about college. I wasn't so sure about that shit, because I felt I'd done my stint in school and wanted something better than listening to dusty old farts talk about the rise and fall of the Roman Empire or something.
Actually, my sex life that summer was not too exciting. Mainly I made it with Pearl and Bill, There was one pretty good night in a mountain town where I was going to get the Miss Mountain Flower Festival crown. We had the poop on it and it looked as if we were wasting our time. It was, first of all, a small time thing, even smaller than my first crown, the Miss Mackerel contest.
This dinky little old mountain town always selected one of its own for Miss Mountain Flower and that was the way it was, just like old Man Worth picking Ms own queen all the time down in my home town. But by this time the J.C.'s of Old Town had discovered that I brought them a few newspaper stories everytime I went out on the beauty contest trail. I guess I got Old Town more publicity than anything since the time the British burned it down in 1777 or something like that. I'm not very good at history. So the J.C,'s offered to foot the bill for me and Pearl to drive the new convertible which I was using for one year as the winner of the Miss Long Leaf Tobacco contest. Off we went to the mountains.
'Even if you don't win we'll have a nice trip,' Pearl said.
I wasn't going up there not to win. I'd accumulated quite a nice wardrobe as part of my prizes. That's about all I got out of being the winningest beauty queen in the state, some nice clothes, the loan of a new car for one year and a couple of college scholarships. I couldn't cash in the scholarships for money and I couldn't transfer them and all the time Pearl and my old employer, Julie, kept telling me I should plan to use the scholarships to go to school in the fall.
Anyhow, we set out in this nice new car and I was driving. I got stopped up around Charlotte by a highway fuzz and when I pulled off the road I was thinking like crazy. I didn't want a traffic ticket. So when the fuzz came up and said, in his oh, so original way, 'Where's the fire, little lady?' I burst into tears. I'd decided on that route instead of trying to vamp him. It would be awkward, on that well traveled highway, to offer to bribe the fuzz with my bod, so I decided, quickly, on the tears and helplessness routine. I start wailing, with real tears, and telling the poor sonofabitch how I was off in the big world, just a country girl, trying to help my poor old hometown by winning beauty contests and how I'd just not noticed that I was going so damned fast and begging and asking him, 'Oh, what can I do, what can I do?'
He said, 'There, there.' He flushed and shifted from one foot to the other and ended up, although I'd been doing ninety-five in a sixty mile zone, lending me his handkerchief and wishing us the best of luck and telling me, rather gently, to hold it down.
'You should be an actress,' Pearl said, as we drove away, and I changed my tears to laughter. Doing!
An actress. Why the hell not? I had the looks for it and there were girls on the screen who didn't act,worth a shit.
'Is this a dagger I see before me?' I hammed it up, laughing. Why the hell not? So I was thinking of that as we drove on into the mountains and came into this little town and checked into the one hotel. In my room I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself and that was it. I was going to be an actress. I didn't know exactly how, but I was going to do it.
We went to a reception for the queen contestants and the judges and town wheels. There we saw the competition and I almost laughed. I was the only outsider. The rest were locals. There were fat ones and skinny ones and not a damned one of them could come close to me. I circulated and met the judges. There were three men and two women. All were from out of town, but after a little talking with them I found out that two of them, the women, had been local girls and married into the nearby communities, therefore they'd be all for the home folks.
One of the men was local, the organizer of the beauty thing. The other one was a fag decorator from Raleigh and the fifth, the one I started to court, was a country-western singer of small fame, but maybe on his way up, who had grown up in the hills around this little town. He had his own T.V. show and it was syndicated and seen all over the country, although it wasn't on a regular network. He was going to be on the Grand Ole Opry, he said, someday. He'd just been married, but his wife couldn't make the trip. He was full of himself. He was not a bad looking guy. He had this big, manly voice, like on a Marlboro commercial, and he talked western and slow, although he was a southern hillbilly boy.
He had an eye for a girl, I could tell. And he was putting away the drinks. There was a non-alcoholic punch there for everyone, but he was sweetening it with his own pocket flask. His hair was long, but not hippy, his clothing was rugged, but tailor made and expensive and he had a fine, manly bod.
These receptions are something else. They're for the birds. You stand around with this painted smile on your face, being nice to everyone. You stay on your toes all the time because the judges are looking at you. At least they are when the results of the contest are not predetermined. I knew that this contest was over before it started and I'd picked out the local belle who would win. She was a stringy-haired little blond with big shoulders and a. bigger ass. She was as out of proportion as a smashed beer can, but the judges were fawning all over her. While I was courting this.hilly singer, whose name was Rod Hensley, Pearl pulled me aside and told me that I was
