are to work together in this hotel, you must leave rue alone! You must never even mention this thing again. Otherwise I'll leave!'
Recognizing the hysteria in her voice, Jonathan backed off. Stuffing his fat cock back in his pants and zipping up, he smiled soothingly at her, then patted her on the head. 'All right, little sister,' he laughed. 'I tried, but you win. It could have been lovely – but I won't force you.'
He strode back to the bed and sat down again, lighting a cigarette and looking quite neat and composed. 'Well, then, let's talk about something else. We've been invited to a party tonight – that's something else I came to tell you. It's being given by one of the guests, Jack Harlan, a fellow who's made millions in oil. Needless to say, it would be good public relations for us to go, but I also think it would be a lot of fun. What do you say?'
Jennifer was so relieved to have won her argument with him, so glad that they would not have to quarrel any more, that she was quite ready to please him. 'Why, it sounds delightful,' she smiled. 'When do we go?'
'In half an hour, as a matter of fact,' Jonathan replied, glancing at his watch. 'Can you be ready by then?'
'Nothing to it,' said Jennifer. 'What should I wear?'
He scratched his head. 'That's a very difficult question to answer. In California the ladies dress rather eccentrically. You're likely to find everything from evening gowns to blue jeans. Tell you what, though. Since everyone is fascinated by the fact that we're twins, we might as well exploit the image for business. Let's dress alike. I noticed when you were unpacking that you have blue pants and a blue sweater. I happen to have one very much like it. We'll wear those, if you don't mind.'
Jennifer laughed. 'It seems rather silly!'
'Darling!' Jonathan laughed, but persisted. 'This is America! Everybody has to sell himself. Come on, think of the publicity, the Hotel Twins, Jennifer and Jonathan! We can have all our clothes alike, even our bathing suits and pajamas! We'll infuse to be separated, walk around hand in hand…'
'Stop!' laughed Jennifer. 'You'll make me throw up! Go on now. I'll get dressed – yes, in the blue outfit – and you can call for me in half an hour.'
'Right!' He got up, gave her a light, brotherly kiss on the forehead, and left. Jennifer breathed a loud sigh of relief. She seemed to have won the battle with her brother, and there was only clear sailing ahead.
Half an hour later Jennifer and Jonathan entered the luxurious top-floor suite of Jack Harlan, the Texas oil man. They were greeted by the host, a tall, beefy, florid man in his late thirties, with an affable manner and a booming voice.
'Come right on in, folks!' he thundered, his drawl betraying his origins. 'We're mighty honored to have you. Hey, everybody, here's the twins! You two know all these people?'
Jennifer and Jonathan were introduced to the other guests. The old man's wife, Bonnie, was nearly twenty years his junior, blonde and giggly and cuddly, and she appeared to have no more brains than a baby bird. Also present were Laura Langley and Kip Kovak – Jennifer blushed a little on being introduced to them, recalling the outlandish scene she'd witnessed that afternoon, but they did not notice her embarrassment. Finally there was a well-known American poet, Harold Witherspoon, a thin, impish little man with a mane of silver hair. With him was his mistress, a sinuous, black fashion model who went by the sole name of Ouida. Ouida was nearly a foot taller than her lover, sported an enormous Afro, and said very little, although her big, dark eyes seemed to catch and evaluate everything that happened.
'What'll you folks have?' boomed Jack Harlan, as he guided the twins to the bar. 'Or maybe you'd care for somethin' besides alcohol? We can supply whatever you want.'
Jennifer didn't understand what he meant until her nose suddenly picked up the unmistakable, rich odor of marijuana. It emanated from cigarettes smoked by Kip Kovak Harold Witherspoon, and Ouida. Shortly after, Jennifer saw Laura Langley take some pills from her purse and swallow them with her drink.
'I'll have a gin and tonic,' Jennifer said firmly. Jonathan laughed but ordered the same, and they went to sit with the others. Jennifer was rapidly beginning to wish she was elsewhere. At first she had been impressed with the oil man and his guests, proud to be among rich and famous people. But the pill taking, the pot smoking, and the generally lewd and loose talk of the group soon put her off. She resolved to make an early escape from the party, sensing tab things would get out of hand before long. But she was too late. Things got very much out of hand before she'd been there half an hour.
Laura Langley was easily the highest person in the room, thanks to a combination of booze and pills. Almost compulsively, the beautiful red-haired actress kept turning the conversation to sex, and as she sat on the sofa between Kip and Jack, she kept setting her hand on their crotches and squeezing.
Jennifer found her behavior disgusting, but she was hardly prepared for what Laura did next. Weaving to her feet, the actress raised her martini glass.
'I wish to announce that I'm the best damned cocksucker in the room!' she said in a cultured but slurred voice.
This was greeted with loud laughter from everyone but Jennifer, who sat red-faced and mortified. The poet, Harold Witherspoon, jumped to his feet.
'Ladies and gentlemen,' he proclaimed in a theatrical tenor. 'We have just heard a rather bold and dubious assertion from Miss Langley concerning her sexual prowess! I challenge her to prove that assertion!'
'You're on, sweetie!' replied Laura. Passing her glass to Kip, who barely kept it from spilling, she strode over to the poet, knelt, and unzipped his fly.
Witherspoon grinned and winked at the others but did not move. Laura's deft fingers quickly drew out his short, fat prick, a pale, white uncircumcised organ that ended in a wrinkled point.
'Ummmm!' Laura exclaimed. 'Just right for a little snack!'
'If you please!' replied Witherspoon. 'We will have no remarks about size! I realize it's no colossus, but it has served me well. Wouldn't you say so, my dear?' He glanced at Ouida.
The beautiful black girl grinned at him. 'Well,' she replied languidly. 'It's served you well with me, all right! But let's see what the lady can do with it.'
Laura was now lapping the poet's fat, little cock with her wet, pointed tongue, wriggling the tip under the wrinkled foreskin, making Witherspoon twitch and snort. Then, abruptly, she sucked the whole organ into her brightly lipsticked mouth, with such hot force bat the little man moaned loudly and sank forward to rest his hands on her shoulders.
'Ahhhh, God, yes!' he muttered. 'Nice, very nice!'
Laura began to suck his cock quite loudly, making slurping and sucking noises that caused the others to titter and guffaw – all except Jennifer. From the moment of Laura's crude announcement about cocksucking, she had sat in paralyzed horror, unable to believe what was happening. My God, the utter depravity of these people! They were all watching a highly personal and intimate act, a woman's feverish sucking of a man's penis, with no more embarrassment or hesitation than they might watch a baseball game! Well, she supposed that was their rights their business, but she certainly did not intend to be part of it!
She started to rise from the love seat she was sharing with her brother, but Jonathan caught her wrist and gently but firmly forced her to sit down again.
'Don't break the spell,' he whispered eagerly.
'This is going to be fun!'
'But, Jonathan.' She whispered, too, but her voice was horrified and frantic.
'Sssshhhh!' he silenced her.
Jennifer did not want to make a spectacle of herself or to make a display of outraged feelings which might damage the hotel's popularity. She decided to sit quietly until there was an opportunity to slip out of the room unnoticed.
Meanwhile she gawked at the famous Laura Langley, who knelt before the little poet and sucked on his cock as if it were the most delicious food in the world. The obscene noises continued, the slurping and swishing of her wet tongue and hot saliva all around Witherspoon's rapidly stiffening prick, and now Laura was also squeezing and tickling his small red balls, sending the poet into a frenzy of horniness.
'Holy Christ!' he whined. 'This girl is GOOD! Oh, oh, ohhhh!' He began to jerk his hips in time to her sucking, plunging his fat little cock loudly in and out of her red lips.
'Oh, Harold,' chirped Bonnie, the oil man's cute little wife. 'I can do better than that!' She sent her baby-blue eyes around the room and settled them on Kip Kovak, who was lounging in his chair and grinning at the spectacle.
