HP10-280 Swimsuit Sinners by Ralph Burch

Chapter 1

"There's a naked girl swimming in the ocean," said the young man.

The older man chuckled. "That's beach life." Then he did a double take, as he steered their motorboat
into deeper water.

"Naked? No clothes?"

"She's bare all right," said Phil. His binoculars were plastered on the swimming figure.

"That's new!" said George, the older man, eyes gleaming. "Even in Atlantic City." Then his eyes dulled.
"Probably ugly." He knew life usually let you down.

Phil Griffin adjusted the glasses, frowning in concentration.

"No. She's luscious. What a . . . breast stroke . . . go faster."

"Wish I could," said George Panther. "There's a problem with our gas supply."

The rest of his words were drowned in a roar as Phil reached over and jerked the throttle of the
outboard motor full open. The motorboat surged forward, drowning out George's, "Hey!"

The swimming figure that Phil wanted to inspect was well out in the bay, almost halfway to a yacht that
rode the waves across from the Atlantic City boardwalk. The nude swimmer seemed headed for that
yacht.

The roar of the engine made further talk impossible. George Panther contented himself with steering
grimly to avoid running down the less interesting swimmers here close to shore. By this time he already
had a good idea of who the target swimmer was, and he knew she'd be mad when they caught up with
her. The motorboat waves would make her bob in the ocean and lose strokes. But he also knew this
Phil Griffin and didn't want to argue.

George shook his head as he watched his young partner. Phil Griffin was handsome, well-built and
impetuous. At twenty-seven he was one of the best swim trainers for Olympic endurance swimmers in
the nation, but he had this fault . . . .

Right now Phil was both enjoying the sight of the girl's body and rating her athletic power, George
guessed.

He was right about that. "Not bad," said Phil in a murmur that George couldn't hear. At first Phil had
hoped that the swimmer was Madeleine Metcalf, the women he'd come three thousand miles to find, but
he could see it wasn't her. She was, however, a powerful swimmer, cleaving the water with a steady
two-mile-an-hour stroke that was professional. And she was sexy.

It would be good to talk to this stranger. Ever since Phil had left California, he'd feared he might not get
his prize swimmer, Maddy Metcalf back. If not, he'd need a replacement, and this girl was worth an
interview.

Of course Maddy came first. Absolutely. Still, as he scanned the trim lines of the unknown swimmer, he
felt a rising excitement. Even if she had a trainer, or belonged to a club, he might get a date. After all, he
was a stranger in town with no black book of numbers to turn to.

Watching Phil with sardonic amusement, George also guessed Phil's secondary interest. George was
Maddy Metcalf's uncle. She'd told him plenty about her training time with Phil. Phil and Maddy had
worked to get her on the U.S. Olympic swim team two years ago, in 1924, pointing for the Paris
meeting. Gradually they slipped into a hot affair so heavy that Maddy broke training and didn't make the
team. Afterwards she fled Phil.

For two years Phil had been obsessed with getting Maddy back. He swore he'd put her in the 1928
Olympics two years from now and get her two or three gold medals. Maybe, thought George, if Phil
could stay away from sex.

The engine stopped. Just like that. One moment they roared along, cutting through the waves, gaining on
the swimmer. The next the motor died abruptly and they slithered through the water, slowing to a stop.

"What's wrong!" cried Phil in agony.

"I told you I was about out of gas," said George. "Full throttle burns it up too fast. If we'd puttered along
. . . ."

Phil glared up, stood up and started to take off his clothes.

"You're going in the water?" asked George, astonished.

Phil stripped rapidly.

"I might as well say hello to her."

Clothes off, Phil wore bathing trunks, not conventional shorts. Phil never bothered with shorts. He
stepped to the edge of the boat.

"Tell 'em on the yacht to send out some gas," said George. "I'm stranded."

"Maybe the girl isn't swimming to the yacht."

"She is. That's my backer's daughter, Flair Singleton," said George.

But Phil was gone, cleaving the water in an expert dive that left George's motorboat rocking only gently.

Alone in the boat George pondered the situation as he watched Phil cut through the water like some
goddam porpoise. What a swimmer. Only the young man's wound in the Kaiser's war prevented him
from winning his own gold medals. On land you'd never know, but the water knew, he was permanently
slowed down.

George pulled out a hip pocket flask, inhaled some slightly cut gin and considered the possibilities. He
had oars; he could row ashore for gas, but he was broke. He could also row to the yacht and get free
gas, but that also took effort. With the wisdom of his forty-five years, he decided to wait until Phil sent
rescue. It would come soon because Flair Singleton was no Maddy Metcalf. Maddy still had a soft spot
for Phil, despite her anger at him. Flair on the other hand was a bitch virgin with warm spots for no man.
Phil would get a fast shuffle. With a sigh of contentment, George laid down on a seat, rested his flask on
his chest and began to daydream future glories, staring up at a blue sky of an August, 1926, afternoon in
Atlantic City, New Jersey . . . .

"Hello there," said Phil swimming up to the girl.

"Beat it," said the girl. "Twenty three and a big skidoo."

"I'm Phil Griffin. I train women swimmers," Phil offered.

"I've heard of you. I've heard you were coming. My father's nurse is Maddy Metcalf. She used to swim
for you."

"Uh," grunted Phil. Not so good . . . if Maddy'd said too much.

Phil was aware of the girl's sleek, gorgeous body. She must be twenty or so, with blonde features and a
smooth, tanned skin. She had meat on her bones, but was beautifully proportioned. He could tell she
was also an endurance swimmer, being able to talk so easily in the water.

"Headed for the yacht, huh?" said Phil.

"Yes. It belongs to my father, Victor Singleton. I'm Flair."

Victor Singleton would be George's backer, the pharmaceutical executive from New Jersey inland, Phil
knew.

"Is Maddy on the boat?" he asked. "I've come all the way from California to see her. I guess you know
that. I have a new project for her."

"She's not on the yacht," said Flair. "She hates you. I can see why.

You're too fresh."

"Listen, I was just admiring your stroke. As a professional trainer . .

. ."

"Take off your trunks."

"What?"

"When I'm stripped, I don't allow clothed swimmers alongside."

"How come you're stripped?"

"Dad gave me a bathing suit. I tried it out. It belongs on somebody's old maid aunt."

A real flapper, thought Phil. A wild girl of the Twenties, a rich man's reckless daughter.

Flair suddenly stopped swimming and for seconds Phil was treated to the sight of two magnificent
breasts, nude, with big, pink centers. Treading water she let herself sink her glories just out of sight.

"Strip or skip," she insisted.

Phil felt a thrill of erotic feeling. To swim with this beauty, it was a small price to pay. He doubled his
body and his trunks were gone.

"I'm really only interested in your style," he said, grinning. "Maybe you could swim in my new project."

"Maybe you want to screw me in the ocean," she shot back. "Maddy confessed you tumbled her once in
a pool."

"A pool, maybe. The ocean, no," said Phil. "It's the waves."

It was too bad, too, because going naked had sent thrills and tempting rushes through his belly. His cock
had slowly begun to stiffen just at the realization of being out here all alone with a beautiful, naked girl. A
wild one. Their bodies touched. For a second he felt warm, silken flesh lubricated by the water.

"From what Maddy says you'll figure a way to beat the waves and invent ocean sex," said Flair dryly.

The conversation was not going the way Phil liked. This kid was too forward. She'd shot him two insults
inside of a minute. That got his back up.

"So I've got the name," he told her. "I might as well have the game."

He reached out and ran one hand down the sweet slope of Flair's naked back. Gently he squeezed the
satin smooth globe of one buttock, slick from the water. Let's see how Miss Tart Lip took that!

No scream. No slap. Instead she calmly reached down and grabbed his half-erect cock.

"Oh!" said Phil.

She squeezed it as he had her buttocks, but in the awkward way women handled men's pricks. Then she
pumped it and that felt very, very good. Phil felt an awesome rush of pleasure. He'd been five days on
the train coming East, with no dates, and not much before that. His balls were loaded. His blade
powered up to full erection in only a few of her hand strokes.

"Ah-huh!" he gasped.

"That's my best stroke," she said.

"Uh. I've g-got one too," he said. He felt along her warm inner thigh and up between her legs. Her cunt
was right where it was supposed to be, a bush above, two soft lips in his hand and warmth inside.

"Ah-huh!" she gasped in her turn as his fingers bored in.

For a wild few seconds they treaded water, mutually masturbating each other, as if seeing how far the
outrage between perfect strangers could go. Phil's cock throbbed with intense pleasure. He could feel
her quivers as he probed inside of her cunt.

Flair suddenly released his jabber. "Why am I doing this?" she asked the ocean. "I don't care about your
stupid prong. Finish yourself. Uh, uh!"

She gave another gasp at his invading fingers that had worked a short way inside of her box and expertly
pressed on her clitoris. She eased her loins off his hand. She began to swim away rapidly.

Phil stared after her in awe as he tread water.

"You're a virgin!" he cried after her, astonished. His fingers had told him the truth. A flapper she might
be, and wild, but no man had invaded that glorious belly. Probably because of her tart lip, he thought.

She scolded him over her shoulder.

"That's right, Mr. Prick!" she cried. "Shout it to the world. Yell it to the Boardwalk. I'm proud of it and
no man will ever change it. Especially you!"

She swam on, while Phil looked back over his shoulder. George's boat drifted some distance away.
There was no sign that Panther tried to rescue himself by rowing. The yacht looked closer.

He saw Flair reach the yacht's landing platform at water level, saw a white uniformed servant come
down the ladder to hand her a large towel to cover her nakedness. She stood there a moment staring at
Phil across the water. A warm wave blurred his vision; when he cleared it, he saw her final gesture of
contempt. She deliberately opened her towel to expose herself fully for a second, then closed it and
went on up the ladder.

"Bitch," he groused. But he was still hard. That body was as shapely a figure as he'd seen in all his
twenty-seven years. Wasted on a hard personality, he thought. Sadly he swam on to the yacht.

No servant greeted him. Nor was there anyone on sight on the deck.

Naked, he felt very exposed, but no one came into view. The boat tugged gently at its anchor like some
ghost ship without humanity aboard. Weird!

Silence. Creaking anchor chain. Sunny deck. Ahead of him were twin doors of some master cabin. He
went through, anxious to hide his nudity. He found himself in a glass-walled living room, carpeted, with a
bar, chairs and tables. The carpet was thick and new, the furniture gleaming brown wood. Old Singleton
must really be rich because this was ultimate luxury, a craft more than a hundred feet long, with glittering
appointments, solid wood, shining brass, eye-blinding whiteness of white paint. He dripped a little water
on the rug.

No humans. No sound. It was spooky, all right. He crossed the big cabin to a door at the other end. It
opened into a hall, empty, with closed doors on the left and right. Sleeping quarters for the millionaire?
There was a bright blue carpet with an embroidered "S". New. It felt good on his feet and he made no
sound.

He walked down the hallway, half the length and stopped at a big door on his right. Should he knock?
Or just barge in? He stood uncertainly in front of the door.

There was a sudden rush of feet and he felt his arm grabbed and twisted up behind him. A solid body hit
his and drove him through the door, as he grunted in surprise. His arm was locked up behind him. He
and his attacker burst through the door, and it was a bedroom, right enough. There was a huge bed
with a satin spread and an "S" embroidered on it.

The surprise of the sudden attack had caught him off guard, but now he brought his strength into play.
His assailant had to use both arms to pin his one arm but slowly he was able to pull it loose. His attacker
pressed against his making him realize that it was a woman, that she was nude, that it was Flair
Singleton. The smooth skin, the warm flesh were dead giveaways. He jumped forward out of her grasp,
ending in the middle of the room.

"Aha!" she said. She spun around and locked the cabin door.

He stared at her thunderstruck. She was still baby naked. Close up, out of the water, he got the full
effect of her unclad body. She had a beautiful face with a pug nose and those bright blue eyes. Her thick
hair was wet, of course, much darker than it would be when dried and coifed. She had broad shoulders
for a woman but they matched her powerful but softly curved body. There was the shapely torso, soft
rib cage, sexy belly button and flat belly.

"Aha?" he asked, swallowing hard.

Her eyes dropped to his crotch. His cock still jutted out stiff from his belly. In his loaded condition, the
blood would seep away most slowly and reluctantly. His prick wanted to deliver its load of manhood
into the world.

She walked up to him. She took his big prodder in both of her warm hands.

"Would you believe that I've never touched a man's sex until yours in the water a few minutes ago?"

Her voice was softer. She looked shy.

"In-interesting," he said. He was so stricken by her beauty, by that tanned, silken skin, the glow of
health, the voluptuousness of her body that his mind felt thick, non-functioning.

"My father protects me. My father won't let me have anything to do with sex," she said. "Is it all right if I
look at you?"

"Why . . . why not?" he stammered, still transfixed.

Her hands had thrilled him. Now she opened them to look closely at his cock, bending down with those
great breasts slightly extended.

He felt a sweet rush of desire from his sex centers up and down his spine. She rubbed and stroked the
mushroom shape of his swollen cock head, pumped the skin on the shaft. He gave a gurgle of pleasure
as thrills shot through him.

"Ohhhhhh."

"That feels good, doesn't it?"

"Baby, that feels incredible! What you've got there is a length of muscle made hard by the rush of blood
to the organ, which swells and makes the skin tight, but the skin can move a little and excite a million and
a half pleasure nerves so that a man walks up on his toes, creaming and crooning. Ahhh. We call it
masturbation."

"Like this?"

She pumped his cock vigorously.

"Oh, baby!" he cried. "You'll cause an explosion. I've got enough stuff inside to blow off your hands."

"You've got to explain sex to me," she insisted. "It's my one chance of a lifetime. Dad never lets me go
out alone. He hires guards. But they're away, he's away." Suddenly on the ocean I'm with a man, he's
naked, and his thing is risen hard. I can't pass this up."

She was so different than on the ocean that Phil couldn't believe it. In the water she was tough, mature.
Out of the water she was totally innocent. Or playing so.

"Get on the bed," she said.

Phil didn't know what to do. All his life he'd ruined chance after chance to get ahead by falling into sex.
Somebody's wife, somebody's sweetheart, or some of his students. On this trip East he'd sworn to put
business before pleasure. Now this.

As long as she pumped on his blade he was willing to stand there and let nature take its course. He was
crazy to shoot off his load. But now she stopped and crudely walked him to the bed by pulling on his
cock so he had to follow. It was the cruelty of innocence, as if she could not release the wonder organ
that her father had kept her away from all her life.

He went to the bed. He sat on the bed. She sat beside him.

"You have a c-cock," she said. "I have a c-cunt. I can hardly say the word. I call it my box." She
actually blushed. She opened her legs and before his horrified eyes stroked her delicate pink instrument
to make her fingers gleam with girl essence. Her cunt was as swollen as his prick.

She anointed his blade with her warm girl oils. He fucked up lusciously into her fist, smelling musk,
thrilling, crazed for sex.

"Prin . . . princess in a locked tower," he said.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's get back to my cock and your cunt." He groaned. This birds and bees stuff was going to
put him right back in the dark hole, like with Maddy.

"Cu . . . box!" she cried. "That word's so sexy! I wish I could say it."

She jumped up and straddled his lap. While he stared at her in horror and delight, she fitted her cunt to
his cock and sat on his stiffness. His prong immediately nudged into her about an inch and stopped,
hitting her hymen. He felt her slick oils. He felt her intense inner body heat. His entire cock head was
gripped tightly by her virgin opening. Great thrills of desire-joy swept up his body. He was on fire to
grab her hips and fuck her deeply, crazily.

"I . . . ahhhh!" he moaned.

"Oh, we won't do anything," she promised him. "I'm just learning things. Ah. Eeee! Yes, I'm just putting
things together."

She bounced a little. He almost died. Somehow both his hands pressed tightly against the richest naked
globes he'd ever touched. Hot, hard nipples dug at his palms. Jelly-firm breast flesh warmed his hands.
He sweated. He moaned. As she jiggled he felt a slight tearing of her maidenhead.

It was too much. He grabbed her shoulders and forced his mouth on those flaired lips, feeling soft flesh,
wetness, sensing her sweet, young breath. He ruthlessly drove his tongue into her mouth.

Blue eyes shot wide. For a second his tongue reamed her silken mouth, trying to fuck down her throat.
Silken saliva laved and smeared him. He thrilled.

She jerked free, sputtering. "What did you do that for? That's repulsive! Ughhhh!" She shook her head.
He could see the fast beat of her pulse in her throat. Her lovely face was pink with the blush of sexuality.

He gripped her hips and dug his prick against her hymen. It tore some more. She jerked and gave a
small scream, while his ruthless cock throbbed happily and he felt the exultation of virgin blood run down
his shaft.

He was pretty well imbedded in her cunt. Maybe two glorious inches.

"I thought we weren't going to do anything," she whined. "It hurts."

"That's right. We have to stop," he said. God! But he was right. One tiny, stainless steel thread of reason
held his pleasure-crazed body back. He must not wreck this trip East with stupid sex, not even with this
princess, not even with a virgin. He'd had virgins. He'd had Maddy. There'd been a few others.

She got up off his lap. They both stared down at her crotch, silently watching a thrilling trickle of blood
join the gleam of her sex-welcoming oils on her satin inner thighs.

She put her finger just inside her cunt lips and made a circular motion. She moaned.

"That's my sex center, isn't it?"

"Clitoris, yes." He swallowed and felt his breath rushing in his throat. God, what a sweet agony.

"It feels so great there. Your penis felt great in my cu-box."

"Cunt."

"Oh, heavens. If you say that word again, I'll die!"

She fell back on the bed, legs wide apart. Phil felt he was the one who was about to die. He thought she
might be somehow seducing him, yet that didn't make sense. She had the most authentic hymen he'd
ever encountered. She was a total virgin.

"I have to learn," she said. "It's my one chance in a lifetime. Dad'll keep me a virgin till I'm forty and dried
up. Put it back in."

"Put it back in? Listen, Flair, if I do your maidenhead is gone."

"Nonsense. Put it back in."

He looked down at her virginal beauty, soft face, voluptuous body, those high, perfect breasts, those
thrilling hips and thighs and the steel restraint snapped. He mounted her. He dug his cock back into her
cunt. He shoved. She gasped as more gristle gave way and more blood flowed. He grunted as he felt the
exquisite pleasure of deflowering this beauty.

"Ouch. Say the word."

"Cunt."

"Uh!" This time she bucked on his prodder and more tearing took place.

"Ohhhh," she cried. "I can't stand it."

"I think I can stop. Otherwise it's a fuck."

"Uh!" She bucked once more on his penis. Evidently that word also stirred her.

"Cunt," he said.

"Uh!" she went. Her eyes were shining as her face grimaced with pain.

More hymen went. The blood flowed now.

"Oh, Jesus, goddam, fuck your cunt!" he cried and cruelly rammed his cock against her maidenhead with
fury. She screamed and came off the bed, her buttocks squeezing, her belly tense to his as he battered
her gristle away and sank deep into her tunnel.

"Stop!" she ordered. "I can't stand it!"

He stopped. He was half worn out with the thrills and rushes of delight in his belly from pronging against
this thick hymen. Now he had five of his seven inches buried in that ripe but tight belly and to all intents
and purposes she had been fully deflowered.

She looked up at him and seemed dazed.

"We can't go on. Your thing is eight inches long and two inches around."

"Seven. Only an inch and a half."

"We have to stop."

"Cunt," he teased her. "I want your cunt."

She suddenly locked her legs around his back and gave a series of heavenly sex bunts on his prodder.
His cock oozed in until it lightly touched her womb wall.

"You're fucked!" he gasped, his prick dry-throbbing madly. He almost fainted from the intense heat, the
sweet friction, the surging throw desire in his guts. He'd never had such sex pleasure.

"Oh, oh, oh," she went, thrusting on his cock, impaling herself. Mixed blood and oil gave fabulous
service to his sliding shaft. Her eyes got big. She began to lift under him. She was so strong that she
could lift his weight.

"Something's going to happen!" she cried.

He was astounded. Most girls did not enjoy deflowerment, nor have orgasms that first time. Not at the
moments of battering.

He grunted and began to rock his prick rapidly in and out of her tight cunt.

"Phil!" she cried.

He could not help her in this exquisite moment of fast prick friction. He was totally lost in the sweet, hot
flesh, the enveloping, satiny package of her body and especially in that tight little deflowered heaven she
called her box.

"Uh, uh, uh, Flair" Want you . . . want your body, your being," he gasped, flexing and ramming her wildly.

"Ohhhhhh!"

Her big body strained up, locked and her cunt went into spasms. Throb, throb, throb. She sighed and
fell back on the bed, only to shoot up again, buttocks tight, loins grinding his. Throb, throb, throb.

"Ahhhhhh," she keened.

He could've expected it. A magnificent body like this would produce fierce, healthy girl orgasms. He
drove her through her pleasure spasms while she whined and keened and throbbed, finally to fall back
under him on the satin spread, exhausted, face shining with moisture, eyes dazed.

It was all his now. He ached all over and thrilled to ecstatic heights as he drew close to his own moment
of glory. Pure erotic delight sang up and down his whole body as he panted to plant his manhood deep
in her cunt, against her waiting womb. He fucked hotly.

Suddenly the giant fist of orgasm gripped his belly, thighs, cock and balls. He went tight and paralyzed
with a wounded grunt.

"Uh, huh, huh!"

He went dizzy. He felt spinning, exalting leaps of pleasure. Virgin cunt deflowered and won!

Spurt, spurt, spurt. Gorgeous shots of jism unlocked his packed, congested sex system. The relief and
good feeling were incredible.

"Ahhhhh!"

Spurt, spurt, spurt. So much, a continent of sperm throbbing and, gushing out of his reservoirs. He had
climbed straight up to joyous lust heaven.

"Uh, ah, ah, ah!"

She was his passive receptacle, the sexy, dazed woman clinging to him, powerless to stop his hands
from holding her cunt glove tight to his belly as he pumped her body full of his manhood and meaning,
centering every drop deep, deep into her belly. She jerked a little in surprise as she felt his virile sperm
shots.

"Hoooo," she sang. "I think I'm wet. I'm really wet. I think you've got an ocean in me."

Finally he was empty and glowing. It felt so good that he just folded down on her soft yet firm body
completely lust-emptied, feeling as if he were no longer the same man who had swum alongside this sexy
creature. Those weeks of abstinence had turned him into a wired up crazy man. He felt human, good,
open and friendly. Happy beyond description.

"Flair, that was the best I ever had."

"Better than Maddy?" she asked in surprise.

Careful now. "It was incredible," he said.

The door to the bedroom began to reverberate with blows. He heard shouts and, wood smashing as
somebody knocked the wooden door in and it splintered and gave way with a crash. A whole horde of
men suddenly appeared.

He looked back in astonishment over his shoulder. He was too weak from the sex to move off the taken
girl's body.

Actually it was only four men standing there, glaring down at him and Flair, still fuck-locked on the bed.

One of them was George Panther, rescued somehow from the sea. Another was a tall, fierce-looking
man with white hair and hard, ominous eyes. He decided in a flash that this had to be George's rich
man, the pharmaceutical millionaire, Flair's father. The guards puzzled him. They were two young guys
about his age and they looked like real hoodlums, not hired guards from Pinkerton's. They had guns in
their hands.

They marched up to the bed. They ripped Phil off Flair's body. For a second everybody in the room
saw the fruits of recent lust, a big red stain on the figure "S" and a wet center of sperm and oils where
lovers had locked.

Flair gave a scream, jumped up and rushed through a door that had to be the stateroom's bath. That left
Phil in the grip of two husky, armed men. They marched him up to the white-haired man. The older man
stared down at Phil's lower belly, stained with his daughter's virginal blood.

George Panter tried to make the best of it.

"Mr. Singleton, I'd like you to meet . . . uh . . . Phil Griffin. He's just come to Atlantic City."

Those hard eyes drilled Phil with fury. "He came all right."

"Muh-Mr. Singleton, I know in the pharmaceutical business, you people are like doctors, so I would ask
you to judge . . . ." Phil didn't know what he was saying. He'd been dragged from utter bliss to utter
tragedy in less than a minute.

"Me a druggist?" howled Singleton. "What the shit! I ain't no druggist. I'm New Jersey's biggest and
toughest bootlegger. They call me Vicious Vic Singleton, but not to my face. Only I get to call me that to
my face."

"Bee-bootlegger?" squeaked Phil. "George didn't say."

"You fucked my daughter," cried Vicious Vic. "I've been saving her virgin state for a bigshot wedding
and you got the blood all over my "S". You crummy prick, you're dead!"

It was almost a shriek. Phil stared in ultimate horror at the men, at George who was sheet-white and
shaking his head.

"I think you made a mistake, Phil. I have to say that, boy. I hope you understand."

One of the hoods raised his gun.

"You prick!" shrieked Vicious Vic. "Who told you to shoot him in here?

You'll get blood and brains all over my new rug, you stupid fucker.

Outside is where you shoot him!"

"I can explain," said Phil as they dragged him through the door. "I was merely trying to answer the young
lady's questions about sex."

But he knew he could never explain and that his life was over. He'd deflowered the precious daughter of
a bootleg gangster, the most savage breed of men alive in America.

Chapter 2

Phil had been wounded in the World War, so he knew danger; he even knew the stress of facing
immediate death. But this afternoon he'd had a long swim and then delicious but exhausting sex, so he
felt weak when Singleton's two thugs dragged him out on deck. He needed a few moments to recover.
No man who ever had sex with Vic Singleton's ripe daughter was going to be able to climb into the prize
ring right after!

George Panther chatted nervously as he tried to cool the bootlegger down. Vicious Vic had towed
George to the yacht in his larger launch shortly before, enthusing that he'd just met a Boston blueblood
who'd make a great match for Flair. Vic dreamed of society status now that he had money, so he'd
invited the young man to the yacht for dinner.

On the yacht frightened servants told Vic's group that Flair had ordered all the help out of sight and
somehow lured this stranger into the main bedroom. It was the worst possible time for Phil to have come
along and deflowered Singleton's daughter. But Panther spoke up.

"Remember, Vic, this young guy can help with our water show at the aquarium," he babbled, hanging on
to Vic's arm.

The gangster just said, over and over: "You bastard! You've ruined my daughter for a big shot wedding.
You've ruined her!" And the two thugs lugged Phil out on deck.

"If we shoot him on the right side of the boat nobody from shore can see," said one thug.

"But we could throw the body over easier from the back of the boat," countered the other.

"It's not the right side of the boat, you punk!" sang Vic. "It's the goddam starboard side. The left side's
your port side."

"The rear of the boat?" asked the second.

"The stern, you asshole."

While this curious instruction went on, Phil felt some of his strength return. His active life made him far
stronger than Singleton's hoods. He gave a shove to the left and sent one man reeling. He gave the
other a shove to the right, not caring which was port, which was starboard. The second man went
down to skitter along the deck. Then Phil bounded toward the rail.

He planned to do a magnificent Doug Fairbanks leap from the high rail down into the water and swim to
safety. Flair Singleton stopped him. She glided from nowhere to a place in front of him to shove the
barrel of a sawed-off shotgun into his middle.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Unk!" Phil stopped dead with both barrels prodding his belly. At least the girl had covered her essential
parts with the big towel.

"He's ruined you, baby!" cried Vic. "He has to die!"

"You're not going to kill my husband-to-be!" she shot back.

"Hub-husband?" said Vic, thunderstruck.

"You always said I had to save my girlhood for my husband. Since he took it, he has to marry me."

Father and daughter glared at each other. Phil broke it up.

"A shotgun wedding with the bride holding the gun?" cried Phil. He jerked the gun from Flair's grasp. He
waved it to stop the chagrined hoodlums who'd recovered. "I thought all crazy people went to
California. New Jersey's worse."

"My daughter's not marrying any poor, overmuscled California swim tramp. That's final," fumed Vic.

"Tramp!" yelled Phil. "You're the tramp! I teach Olympic swimmers, world-respected young athletes
who compete for the highest honors of civilization. You sell booze, degrading every man, woman and
child in this nation, pulling down society's standards, creating poverty and filth. You're the tramp,
Singleton, and a punk besides."

"You're overstating, Phil," George warned.

"He has a point," murmured Flair.

But Vicious Vic looked from his determined daughter to the angry Phil and then at the menacing shotgun.
His face relaxed.

"I was just letting off a little steam," he said quietly. "Let's all get dressed for dinner."

Phil collected his clothes from George's boat and felt very sexy sitting there without his trunks
underneath. They were floating somewhere in the ocean. But Flair had apparently had enough lessons in
sex for one day; she all but ignored him. Nobody mentioned the earlier embarrassing incident, nor
marriage. Instead father and daughter picked at each other, making Phil suspect that she'd used him to
get back at her father. She was a cool female after all.

The Boston blueblood sent his regrets which made Singleton subdued. Meanwhile the dinner was
delicious, a boiled terrapin with a sublime red sauce imported from Baltimore, prepared by the top chef
in Baltimore's finest Shore Dinner establishment. It was rushed to Atlantic City by express train and
messenger.

Phil and George gorged themselves at Vic's expense. Phil decided that if the bootlegger could spend
money like this, he was a potential backer for Phil's California project with Maddy, so he remained in
good humor. Singleton was morose and finally picked on George Panther.

"We've got to square away your dumb, two-bit water show," he said. "Phil, that's the least you can do
for me after enjoying both my daughter and my dinner. Panther's roped me into this stupid girlie thing in
some goddam converted aquarium where they used to show off fish but went broke."

George murmured that all his show needed was a little tightening and polishing.

"Polish, hell!" sang Vic. "Those girls are ugly and they swim like stones. One night one of 'em is going to
drown! Phil, since you're such a bigshot, world-respected swim teacher, I want you to go over to that
aquarium and straighten out this shit."

"I'll looked at it," Phil promised. After all, he had to stall until Maddy came to town.

Singleton explained to him that Maddy had been a nurse to his sick wife until she died. Now Maddy was
on duty in New York with Vic's aged mother. She came down with the mother every couple of weeks
or so.

Phil looked forward to that. It was a cinch that Flair was not going to swim for him, or sleep with him,
much as he might desire either or both. So it was back to Maddy. The crafty girl had wisely picked up a
profession at which she could make a living after the Olympic team failure.

Phil and George chugged back over the water in George's small boat.

"That Flair's crazy," Phil fumed. "She teased me to romp with her and then turned herself off. Did you
notice she hardly spoke to me at dinner?"

George sat back, flask in his lap, and watched Phil steer. He spoke from twenty-five years of experience
in the hard world of show business.

"Flair doesn't want to marry nobody," he said. "I don't think Vic wants her to marry either. I think
they've got it for each other but won't admit it. So you did 'em a favor, lifting her virginity. If some
important guy did it, they might talk themselves into some lousy marriage. This way when a nobody
takes it they don't have to worry."

"Thanks a lot," said Phil.

"Nothing personal," said George quickly. "Uh . . . how was she?"

"We're getting close to shore," countered Phil. "Where do I head in?"

Phil almost died when he saw George's set-up. His show was in a musty old building on an insignificant
street just off the Boardwalk. There was an ancient, faded sign "Wonders of the Sea" superseded by
George's garish new one: Panther's Water Show Passion Pixies-Merry Mermaids-Cool Music-Hot
Divers-Sexy Swimmers-Comedy Acts.

A separate sign informed the public that the one and only Texas Bunny Long, Chanteuse Extraordinaire,
direct from Paris, sang ballads in an exclusive engagement.

Texas . . . Paris?

The show was even more drab than Phil had been told. Six listless girls, not really as bad looking as Vic
had said, went through swimming formations with an embarrassing lack of skill, showing skin. Two guys
did comic dives. Texas Bunny sang to a piano that George pounded with more verve than art. She was a
real looker with some class compared to the others, but her voice sounded weak to Phil.

It cost $1.00 to get in and hard wooden benches served as seating. The place could only hold about one
hundred people. The air stank of a fishy smell from the former occupants and there was a penetrating
sweetish odor that Phil didn't recognize. Still, the house was full.

Sitting through the ghastly show, Phil realized that George had lured him East not so much to help his
niece as to save himself from being dropped off the Steel Pier in cement overshoes by Vic.

After the first show, Phil cornered George.

"What you've got is a lousy show in a crummy auditorium isolated in a impossible location. Even at five
dollars a head you'd lose money."

"Oh, I make a little. Singleton wants more."

"You make a little, with a payroll of eight swimmers and the doll singer?"

"Well," said George with a sly look, "the girls pay me, you see. I think they hook after the show. There's
one of those 'boarding houses' with rooms that rent by the hour up the street. The guys come to the
show to see the bodies before they rent 'em. But you see I don't let 'em show too much. So I charge the
girls instead of paying them."

"My God!" said Phil.

"Don't let Vic know about that. He'd think it lacks class," begged George.

"What about the platinum blonde, Texas Bunny. She must cost a bundle with her looks, even if her voice
is weak."

"Oh, that's Vic's mistress. He pays for her. I charge him to give her show business experience."

"What a con. How about the men divers?"

"Oh, they siphon off a little and sell it on the side."

"Siphon? Sell?"

"Maybe you noticed the smell. We don't use water in the tank here. It's filled with ten thousand gallons
of pure Canadian gin."

Phil felt his mind rock.

"Your water show - the girls swim in gin?"

"Right. It's Vic's storage vault. Doesn't hurt the stock for people to swim and dive in it. Alcohol kills
germs. So the divers take a little home. I don't pay 'em, I don't charge 'em."

Flabbergasted, Phil said weakly, "And I suppose you sell some of your trusted audience a little."

"Oh, just a little, Phil. I don't want Vic's men to notice too much evaporation."

"Holy crumb!"

"So can you train those girls better?"

"I'm sure I can," laughed Phil, "if we can keep them sober!"

Phil retired to George's office for the intermission and the second show. He couldn't bear to watch it all
over again.

Swimming in gin? It was a nutty idea, but there was no reason why it couldn't work. In fact, he was
tempted to swim in the stuff himself and maybe even sip a little. What a goofy set-up!

As for George . . . sleaze, sleaze, sleaze, since the days he'd sold patent medicines from the back of an
ancient wagon, medicines laced with alcohol. Nothing had changed with George!

Phil passed the time by catching up on the news with some New York papers George had on his desk.
There were two big stories that riveted his attention. Gertrude Ederle had just finished a successful
English Channel swim, the first time by a woman, with a time-lapse that beat the best men's records. It
looked like she'd come back to America a heroine with a ticker-tape parade down Broadway in New
York and all the rest of the accolades.

Phil grinned happily. He'd followed Trudy's endurance swim faithfully.

Her success meant that his California project was no longer a daydream.

If Vic Singleton didn't buy it, some other millionaire would.

The other news was about Houdini's fabulous trick immersion under water in the pool of the Hotel
Sheraton, New York. Houdini, a world hero for many years with his escapes and feats of magic and
daring, had done it again. A young Egyptian, Rahman Bey, had challenged Houdini to match his
immersion in a bronze coffin in water for an hour. The Egyptian claimed he could live in his casket for an
hour, using only the air in that enclosed space because he could induce a trance.

Houdini said it could be done without a trance. Accordingly Houdini had himself immersed underwater in
a metal box, soldered shut, and remained under for an hour and a half, a half hour longer than the
Egyptian "miracle man". There was no trance or trick involved; Houdini had merely taught himself to
breathe shallowly and remain at complete rest. His superb physical conditioning did the rest.

Phil applauded that. Phil's father had been a friend of Houdini's, working in the famous Society of
Magicians, when he was alive. Phil would have to write Harry, or "Ehrich" as his wife and close friends
called him, and offer congratulations in the name of the Griffin family. Phil had met the great sorcerer and
escapist several times in his early years when his father had still been alive.

The door opened and Texas Bunny Long came into the room. With her came a burst of tinny music from

George's hand-wound Victrola as his swimmers swam lackadaisically as George monitored the machine
to make sure it didn't run down.

Phil had been introduced to the singer, Vic's mistress, before the first show, but now he got a good look
at her close up. What he saw was pretty interesting.

She was the opposite of girls like Flair and Maddy, with their firm muscles and athlete's spirits. Her body
was soft and the meat seemed a little loose on her bones which Phil thought sexy.

Her breasts were not as large as Flair's but because Texas was slender, they hung like ripe fruit from her
chest. At present he could see the imprint of big nipples in the tight jersey gown she wore, a beige
number that clung to everything. And how they jiggled when she walked. Her torso was as flat as any
girl athlete's. The dress showed the attractive indentation of her belly button.

The round sweep of her hips was fantastic, almost a circle. That was because she had a fabulous ass,
slightly longer than most women's. When she turned her back, there were these two sweet mounds with
a magnificent crack, longer and deeper than you usually saw. In that tight dress the depression between
her buttocks looked like it would make a dream nest for one long, hard cock, say seven inches when
stiff. Phil had never had anal sex or thought much about it, but he knew that if he ever did he'd want to
bugger between two gorgeous hams like those.

Her thighs and legs were softly, sexily shaped with just the right taper. The evening gown she wore was
split at midthigh, tight to contain that great behind, then split to show silk hose held up by a garter. The
soft muscles flexing under the silken sheen when she walked, plus that behind, those breasts and her
slenderness hypnotized Phil as it must have Vic and many other males.

Her face was great. Her platinum hair was thick, whereas most lightly complexioned platinums had thin
hair. Her eyes were big and a startling brown. Her lips were rose petal lush, her cheeks highboned like a
fashion model's. Yes, Vic had quite a package there.

What intrigued Phil even more was her manner of talking. She spoke in the soft, vulnerable voice of a
scared little girl asking for her momma, instead of the brassy tones you'd expect of a singer. When she
sang her ballads, every man in the audience wanted to rise up and protect her from the sorrows that
made her quiver.

Her costume was bizarre because above the clinging night club gown she wore a white ten gallon Texas
sombrero and on her feet were dainty-heeled, authentic cowboy boots. Being from the West, Phil knew
they were the real thing.

"Oh, excuse me," she murmured in that scared voice. "I came for my medicine. I have to go on in about
twenty minutes. My throat is dry tonight."

Phil beckoned her to the desk and stood aside.

"Did I sound all right in the first show?" she asked, coming up to the desk.

"Fine," he lied.

"I was lousy," she contradicted him. "That's why I need my medicine.

Oh, no. Sit on the desk, please. I can find it easier."

Surprised, Phil sat on the desk facing her and politely lifted his legs as she opened one of George's desk
drawers.

"Not there," she said, fumbling in the drawer. She took his left leg and rested it on the drawer. She
opened a drawer on the other side and rummaged inside. "Not there." She put his right foot on the
opened drawer.

What the heck?

"Oh, here it is," she said in her near whisper. She put her hands on Phil's crotch and began to unbutton
his fly.

Phil sat there petrified. He could not believe what was happening. The girl's movements were so slow
and deliberate, so sane, that the mind rejected what she was really doing. What she really did was gently
lift out the coil of his cock and balls and stroke his shaft as if it were a lovable kitten.

"You see," she explained, "there isn't much time until I have to sing, so I'm being bold in getting right to
my medicine."

Was she drunk? Crazy?

"Where . . . where is you medicine, Texas?"

"Right inside your plumbing, Mr. Griffin, Phil. Don't worry. I know how to find it."

With little girl diffidence she began to masturbate his blade in soft, satiny hands. Phil felt luscious streaks
of desire as his cock grew. That rinsing that Flair had given him several hours ago had by no means
depleted his sexuality. In fact, that first throw had only stimulated him to want to blast off a second time,
but Flair had turned unfriendly.

Two emotions tore him, surprise and delight. Outside he could hear faintly the applause of the crowd,
some of the thin music. It was certainly safe enough here; George had to busy himself on and around the
tank during the show.

"You want . . . my jism?" he managed, wallowing in this new, hot pleasure.

"It coats my throat, soothes my voice box," she said. "Then I sing marvelously well. Yes, sperm does it."

"Ahhhhh." His big prick strained up now as if eager to leap off his body and hunt for sex on its own.
Those capable hands really could stroke!

"Would it embarrass you if I . . . ." Pleading brown eyes looked up at him.

"I . . . uh . . . don't think so. Not at all!" he gasped, his breath almost choking him in rising excitement.

A pink tongue flicked out and circled the head of his cock, painting it with warm honey saliva.

"I'll try not to be gross," she whispered, "but I really have to have your sperm and pretty fast."

"Yes!" he hissed in ecstasy as she engulfed the whole top of his prong in her mouth. Thrills and rushes of
delight shot through his belly and loins. He fucked up a little into that soft, tight mouth. Her suction was
strong, exquisite. Wet flesh pressed insistently, excitingly on his cock head as she bobbed her own head
and grooved his flaming spear top against the roof of her mouth. Teasing fingers stroked his shaft, gently
caressed his balls.

"Ho, ho, ho!" he sang, heart pounding wildly. In less than a minute she'd set his whole belly on fire.

She released his cock and they both watched its happy dry throbs, as it gleamed in the satin of her

saliva. Phil felt the slight sting of the digestive power.

"Well, I won't go too fast," she laughed. "If you don't mind a little tease, I find that it increases the sperm
volume."

"Tease is all right!" he cried. God, he could feel the sweet joy from his toes to his head. What a cock
handler this shy, strange show business girl was.

"If I can hold back the ejaculation long enough," she explained as if she were a teacher in a classroom,
"the force greatly aids in coating my throat. Don't be surprised if I take you quite deep at first and then
draw gradually back to apply an even spread of your precious male juices."

"You know best!" Phil sang in ecstasy.

She was better than her word. She knew how to handle a man's cock the best of any woman Phil had
ever met. Carefully she ate down his stiff, reddened shaft on one side and up the other. Her deft tongue
ringed the very edge of his mushroom cock head until he got dizzy and crazed from the good feeling.

"Can't . . . stand!" he moaned.

She stopped when he dry throbbed. When his crystal clear preseminal fluid eased out of the dark hole
she licked it up as if it were nectar.

"Helps my throat already," she said, swallowing. He watched the soft throat muscles work and thrilled.
His prick kept oozing out more nectar as the tension from the delight-maddening friction went on and on.

She ate his balls with the expertise of a gourmet cocksucker.

"Texas, you know how!" he exulted.

She was back at his shaft, using her teeth as well as her tongue as she sensed that the longer it lasted the
harsher he wanted it. He bucked recklessly now into her mouth, breathing hard, wanting to rush to
explosion. She held him back with gentle restraints.

Soon his pubic hair, shaft and balls were totally covered with a warm sexy gloss that made him shudder
in pleasure. It was as close to a cunt feel as the real thing, the way she used her mouth, suction and her
stroking, incredible hands. She worked the stiff blade back and forth, up and down to add to the
growing pleasure-fury.

"Oh, oh, Texas!" he cried. "I may die!"

"No one ever has!" she laughed.

He was out of his mind now, growing dizzy with the continued pleasure. She'd brought him right up
under the point of paralysis and explosion and she held him there while he could imagine his sperm
factory whipping up extra gallons of throw juice, packing his reservoirs till he wanted to scream in
pleasure from tension.

"Please let it go!" he begged. "Take me."

He grabbed her head and fucked lustily into that teasing luscious mouth, watching his shaft run over wet
lips and go inside.

"Not yet," she laughed, squeezing his prick and slowing the joy. "A young, handsome male like you with
this heavy duty jong has infinite capacity."

He was so crazed to fuck off his load, he jerked free, grabbed her and hoisted her on the desk. Her
body was light and handled easily. He scooted up her tight dress to get at her belly and cunt and thrilled
to discover that she wore no panties. Her pubic hair was platinum, she was authentic. With a happy
groan he nuzzled between soft, warm thighs and began to eat her cunt greedily. There was plenty of
musk juice for him. Texas was so hot that her girl honey had spread halfway to her knees, staining the
inside thighs of her silk hose. He inhaled her essence and coated his own throat with her gland flow.

"Oh, my heavens. Oh, great scott!" she moaned. "Ah, ah, ah!"

He put his hands on that magnificent ass now, digging them into those gorgeous buttocks as he savored
the satiny, quivering flesh and sucked out her cunt oils as if she must be dried to dust.

"Huh, huh, huh," she gasped. "Oh, I'm fucked!"

Her loins humped wildly on his face. She began to jerk and sing in hysteric pleasure.

He gripped her hams and opened them. He ran his tongue up on her ass button and ate it.

"Oh, nooooo!" she sang, jerking. "Nobody ever did that to me."

He wanted to eat the flesh, so soft and loose, off her bones and suck dry every drop of her juices. She
bucked in sweet distress.

"Coming! Comiiiiinng!" she managed.

He dug his tongue once more into her sphincter, making her quiver and wail and then drove his tongue
back on her clit and made her give up her girlhood. She locked her pelvis on his face and surrendered.
Throb, throb, throb. Hers were not the powerful, spaced spasms of the athletic Flair, but quick flutters
of expiring womanhood, almost furtively given, as if Texas did not wish the world to know that she'd
been forced into sex convulsions. They lasted a long time and she melted into a puddle on George's desk.

"Oh, sweet heaven!" she sighed.

Phil stared at her naked ass, exposed because her dress was shoved up almost to her breasts. At that
moment he knew he was going to violate that little red seal and go deep in her backhole if she died for it.
But not tonight. He had a duty to perform.

Dazed brown eyes looked up at him as he reinserted his prick in the girl's mouth as she moved helplessly
on the desk top. But she was a trouper. She recovered quickly and give him three fantastic suckbites,
using everything, teeth, tongue and pressure.

He blew, dizzy, half unconscious with repressed desire.

Spurt, spurt, spurt.

She'd done her job all right. She'd teased him into packing a double load of jism into his system and it
spewed out now in involuntary heavenly, rich shots of boiling jism. He nearly fainted from relief, but
wouldn't let go because he wanted to enjoy the fabulous, sexy pleasure of this wild, wet sex fling.

Texas was true to her word. She pulled his cock deep in her throat, until it felt like a body-hot cunt and
let him coat her passage inch by inch as she oozed his prick up her plumbing.

"Go, go, go," he sobbed in the richest oral orgasm he'd ever felt. His prick just kept on spurting wildly,
making his body sing, his heart pound, his mind reel with unbelievable joy.

Somebody came into the room. Several somebodies. As Phil finally tapered and came back to sanity, he
looked up . . . and then he really did come close to fainting.

Once again he stared into the savage face and angry eyes of Vicious Vic Singleton. Once again two
hoodlums on each side of the tough bootlegger reached for their guns as they sprang forward to seize
him for punishment because he'd ravaged Vic's mistress this time.

"Griffin, goddamit," cried Vicious Vic. "This time you've really gone too far!"

Chapter 3

"I can get you Houdini," said Phil in a shaky voice. He sat at George's desk with the guns of the two
hoods pointed at his head. Above him Singleton glowered down. Texas Bunny had fled the room, crying
in her soft voice, "I hate the sight of blood."

Outside the show went on, the tinkling music, the occasional splash of an awkward swimmer in the
water, or rather gin tank.

"What do you mean you can get me Houdini?" asked Vic.

"Let me finish him, boss," begged one of the thugs. "We've knocked off a half dozen guys for less than
this crumb's done to us."

"Shut up. What's this got to do with Houdini?"

"There's a garbage scow going out at midnight," offered the second thug. "His body could be on it."

"Will you mugs shut up?" ordered Singleton. "I want to hear about Houdini."

Phil knew he had to come through this time. In the era of Prohibition, bootleggers were powerful, above
the law with their money and well-paid killers. Singleton could murder him and get away with it.

He repressed a desire to shiver and shake. The truth was, he didn't blame Singleton. He'd kill Phil
himself if he were Singleton and this stranger came to town, first to lift his daughter's precious
maidenhead and then to screw his mistress all on the same night. Phil doubted he could fight his way out
like this afternoon since the two thugs were now alerted to his strength and quickness. Even if he
upended the desk they'd have a fair shot at him. No, his tongue was his only measure of defense.

"I know Houdini," Phil went on. "He owes my family a favor. We can bring him down here to do one of
his world-famous escapes from your tank. Of course you'd have to get rid of the gin. Houdini doesn't
drink . . . or even smoke."

Singleton's interest was caught. He waved aside his boys.

"Let me get this straight, Griffin. You think you can get the great Houdini to come here to this little dump
and put on a show for us?"

"I know I could," said Phil, wondering if he could. But he'd try like blazes since it was a game for his life.
"Houdini knew my father who was a magician and a big shot in the Society of American Magicians, one
of Houdini's pet projects, Houdini is loyal to old friends. He'd help me now that my father's dead. With
his fame and money he doesn't need to make a pile on every show he does."

Phil could see the wheels spin in Vic's head. For a man who ached to be accepted by society and
respected, the Houdini angle was a golden opportunity. No name was more honored or better known

throughout the world. Besides being the world's best magician and escape artist, Houdini helped rid
society of spiritual fakes and mediums who preyed on widows and the gullible.

There was no flaw in Houdini's character or way of life. He was a devoted husband to his wife, Bess.
Since they were childless, he was fabulous with children. He helped the lesser lights in his profession
through the Society, and he helped science with his exposure of religious fakes. In his fifties, he had the
body of a twenty-five year old because of his rigorous training and fierce spirit, while his competitive
desire matched the current ideal of American society. If he came to New Jersey and performed in
George's tank, Vic would be shaking hands with the mayor, senators and congressman and other "big
shots" as he called them, in black tie and tails.

"Get Houdini!" said Vic.

"What?"

Singleton gestured at the pedestal telephone on George's desk.

"Put in a call to New York and get him." Like Phil, Vic had read about Houdini's recent feat in New
York and knew he was there.

"He . . . probably won't be home," Phil stalled.

"Put in your call, Griffin. It ain't so late."

Phil had the number in his wallet. He'd figured to make a courtesy phone call to the Houdinis on this trip
East, but until now had no plan to bother his powerful and busy acquaintance. But with the thugs
standing there with guns and Singleton scowling, he had no choice, so he gave the operator the New
York number.

With luck the Houdinis wouldn't be home and he could stall further. But after a couple of rings Bess
Houdini herself answered the phone. Phil feared she wouldn't remember his name, but she did. Mrs.
Houdini was clear-minded and a strong helpmate to the great magician. So there was nothing to do but
blurt out his request with Singleton and his men listening.

"I'll ask Harry," said Bess. "He's right here."

Oh God, thought Phil. He says "No" and I'm floating face down in the Atlantic Ocean by midnight. Phil
heard the mutter of voices off the phone, and then Houdini himself came on.

"Hello, Phil, glad to hear from you," said Houdini.

"He-hello, Mr. Houdini," said Phil. To his relief Houdini remembered exactly who he was and his father,
too. But maybe that wasn't so odd because at the beginning of his career Houdini did fabulous memory
tricks on stage and was not likely to forget names or faces.

"Listen," said Houdini at length. "I'm getting ready to put a fantastic show on the road next month in
September. It'll be the biggest, fanciest crowd-puller I've ever sent out. Believe me, it'll be a knockout,
the best of my career. We're going to travel across America and Canada and some other places in the
world by the end of the season." Houdini's voice sounded proud.

"Glad to hear that." Phil had to smile. Houdini was a showman and a promoter. He knew how to blow
his own horn. The difference was that he always delivered what he promised. If he said it was going to
be the best and the greatest, it would be. But it was the end of Phil's chances to get him down here in
Atlantic City. It was already August and Houdini would be rehearsing like a crazy man to be ready to

open next month.

"There's lots of pressure," Houdini went on. "The way I handle that, I like to get away from rehearsals
for a couple of days. A break gives me a new perspective. Sure, I'll come down there for a one nighter.
This is the perfect time of the year, for a couple of days off for me and Bess in Atlantic City. Good
pre-show publicity, too. Count on me, Phil. My manager will set up the details."

Phil sat back in awe. "He'll do it!" he cried to Singleton.

Singleton also looked awestruck. "He . . . he will?"

Phil went back on the phone. "Thanks a million, Harry. Listen, can you say hello to my promoter? He's
grateful. He's a . . . ." Phil suddenly realized that the whole deal would be off if Houdini found out that
Singleton was a bootlegger. Houdini was no snob; nobody in show business could afford to be. But he
wouldn't work for a lawless type.

"My promoter is a new impresario in show business. Victor Singleton," said Phil decisively and handed
the phone to Vic.

Vic stumbled through a few words with the world famous man and hung up.

He collapsed in a chair.

"I just talked in person to Houdini!" he exulted. "Me, Vic Singleton, from Jersey City, New Jersey. His
voice came right in my ear and my voice went right back into his. God!"

The thugs had put away their guns and moved back, looking dazed. This was totally outside their
experience.

"We're not out of the woods," said Phil. "There's a problem. Houdini won't come if he finds out you're a
bootlegger."

The look of ecstasy slowly faded from Vic's face. "My God, I never thought of that. Listen, I can't . . . ."
Then he stopped. "But, yeah, I see what you mean. I mean, this guy is a friend of presidents, kings,
queens, all big shots. He can't afford to deal with scum like me."

"Exactly," said Phil.

"What the hell am I going to do?" cried Vic. "Here's my first chance in my entire life to show off before
the world as an important right guy."

"It's tough," said Phil. "There's only one out. You've got to quit the rackets. Now, tonight, forever. From
this minute on, you're an impresario, a show business entrepreneur."

Vic jumped up. "Quit the rackets?"

"Haven't you got enough money? Now it's fame and respect you want."

Vic shook his head. "I got to think this one out."

"There's no choice," said Phil. "Either get out, or no Houdini. You'll also have to dump those ten
thousand gallons of gin for Houdini's appearance."

There was a diminishing wail as Singleton fled the room, followed by his two men.

Phil sat back in his chair, breathing in triumph. He had no doubt what Vic would do. The man was crazy
for social approval and had all the money he'd ever need. It also fit Phil's California project. Once they
did the Houdini show, Vic would be at loose ends . . . and Phil knew where to direct him next. Beautiful.

Yes, he rode the crest. Always before his sex drive had cut into his career, blocking his progress. This
time it hadn't. He'd enjoyed two beautiful dolls in one day and ended up with the excitement of the
Houdini call. Maybe his luck had changed.

He heard Texas Bunny Long singing in the auditorium. Her voice sounded deep, strong, throaty in the
second show. It was twice as good as before. And all on account of her throat being coated with his
sperm. Would wonders ever cease in Atlantic City, New Jersey?

It was too weeks later and the dress rehearsal was over. The little aquarium had been repainted outside
and in. Phil had gotten rid of all George's hookers and installed sweet young beach girls, easy to pick up
on the sands at this time of year. They could all swim like fish. He trained them as well as he could in the
gin tank. Tomorrow it would all be pumped out and replaced by fresh sea water for Houdini.

Phil was ready for that. He'd taken over the comic diving part of the show and found that swimming in
gin sounded better than it was. The alcohol stung on every little cut, the aroma was overpowering and
even a sip burned the throat, despite its being first-class stuff. Nobody would miss it, except the two
drunks that Phil had replaced, who were more interested in sneaking out the stuff than performing.

Flair Singleton lent her elegant, tanned body to the show, against her will. Hers was no match for her
father's who meant to make the most of his brief fling with Houdini and the big time. After all, he was
giving up his bootlegging career for this.

Flair's reward was to get a chance to harmonize with Texas Bunny in one of the songs. Flair had a pretty
good voice and liked that. For this show Texas lost her cowboy hat and part of her name. She'd wear a
shimmering, silver gown and be accompanied by a trio in white tie and tails. She'd appear as plain Bunny
Long. Phil pointed out that the imitation of Texas Guinan that George tried for lacked class, in Bunny's
case. There was only one Texas Guinan.

Everybody was happy except George. On that night after the kids were dismissed and Phil and George
sat alone in the office George said he'd miss the old show. He looked frowzy in a rented dress suit,
compared to his usual sweater and baggy trousers.

"George, you've got to learn class," said Phil.

"Class is like beautiful women," sighed George. "I can't connect. I tried for Flair before you came along
and only got laughs. You knocked her off in only one day. I tried to help Texas Bunny with her throat
problem. She shucked me off and used the whale sperm Vic buys for her."

He rose sadly. "You lock up, Phil. I'm going out to see if any of my two dollar whores are left in town."

George left but came back almost immediately. "Guess who's standing in full costume by the tank,
weeping her heart out. Our singing star, Texas Bunny."

"What's her problem?"

"I dunno, Phil, but in my book that one's a candidate for Nut College. It's your show, you handle it."
George slid to the side door, waved and was gone.

A single light shown on the stage and sink. A single figure stood there disconsolately, weeping. Still
dressed in her long silver satin gown, with her platinum hair in wild disarray, Texas Bunny looked like a

princess who'd been deserted at the Royal Ball.

Phil paused a moment before hurrying to her. Damn, that was one gorgeous creature, especially with all
those curves tightly held and displayed in shimmering satin. She told Phil she'd lost her ring. It was a very
important ring, since it was a gift of Vic Singleton, and she dared not go back to the yacht without it.
He'd think she'd hocked it, or, worse, given it to some male lover. Vic was very jealous.

"Did you look in your dressing room?"

"It's not in there." The soft voice sounded shattered, the brown eyes expressed utter misery. "I looked
real good."

"Then it's got to be out here," said Phil. "Did you have it earlier."

"Yes."

"I notice you sometimes wring your hands when you sing," said Phil.

"Maybe it slipped off then." He peered about the floor.

"I've looked everywhere, except-"

"Except, where?"

"In my clothes. She turned her back to him. "Feel down me. It might've got into my clothes."

Phil looked down the gleaming figure and hesitated. He was tired, he just wanted to close up and go
home. He surely didn't want to fool around anymore with Vic's girlfriend, not after the sperm episode.
He had big plans that meant staying in good with the ex-bootlegger. Besides there was no place in that
tight-fitting gown you could hide a pin, let alone a ring. He'd seen the ring. It was a lustrous pearl that she
wore on her long finger, so at least she wasn't fooling him, because now there was no ring on those
slender, white fingers.

"Can't you feel for it?" he asked. He could already sense her body heat and was getting somewhat
aroused.

"I can't feel my back!" she protested. "Please, won't you help me?"

It was sheer disaster for him as he felt down her torso, under the armpits, across the breasts. The
stroking made her nipples hard. He quickly felt down to her belly but that was just as sexy, with the
warm, loose flesh teasing his hands under the smooth satin.

"My thighs."

He felt her thighs. Oh, she was so well shaped! His cock was hardening in his pants.

"Behind."

"I . . . I . . . ." He didn't want to touch her rear. That incredible fanny burned in his mind many a night
after the shows.

"Phil! Please. It's life or death for me!"

He felt down her back, wondering if she sensed how his breathing quickened. How silken! Finally the
top slope of her buttocks. He swallowed nervously. He felt the yielding firm flesh under the slick satin.

He was rock hard now, as his hands passed over the exquisite roundness of her bottom. The
combination of that magnificent ass and its satin covering was almost too much for mortal man to bear.
In spite of himself he dug his fingers into her mounds and squeezed. She gasped but made no protest.
For giddy seconds he played with her hams, even feeling into her crack. And thrilled. Was he perverted
to be so taken with her butt? He liked a pleasing rear but had never felt such a desire before.

He broke away, breathing hard. "It's not there, Bunny."

"It's got to be in my clothes. Unbutton me!"

"Oh, no!" he moaned. "I . . . might attack you, Texas."

"If I don't find that ring I'll be dead by morning," she wailed.

The only way out was to humor her. But when he unbuttoned her gown, she quickly worked it over her
hips and let it drop, a gleaming pool at her feet. He hoped she'd wear some kind of underwear, but he
knew from his earlier feel that she did not. Sure enough, she was stark naked except for her high heels.

She muttered and began pawing over her dress, standing there with her legs slightly apart, her gorgeous
body totally exposed. Phil stood like a statue, transfixed. Most of the girls he'd had to do with were firm
and flesh, softly muscular. The yielding softness of this woman's body fascinated him because it was
strange and new. Her skin was clear and white and he felt that if he hugged her, that soft flesh would
melt into his body.

"It's probably inside," she said.

"What!"

She turned to face him. "Feel inside, please." Little girl earnest, brown eyes gleaming.

"Oh, no, Texas, You d-do it."

"I can't bear to touch myself there," she wailed.

He took a deep breath. "This is my last shot." He put one hand on her warm, bare hip. He put the other
between her legs, and felt up the satiny inner thighs to her cunt. She was wet. She was swollen. His
fingers slid easily into her warm cunt passage to be met by her intense interior body heat and rich
lubrication.

"Uh," she went as he dug fingers deep into her cunt.

"Oh," he said, "oh." He gasped at the sexy sensation of feeling around inside her private sex passage. So
tight, so hot, so slick! God!

"It's not in there," he said, hearing the sex thickness in his voice.

"It's got to be in there!" she insisted. "Feel some more."

He pulled his fingers out of her as she moaned at the friction. They gleamed with sex oils. Her face was
slightly red with a blush of lust, wet lips parted, big eyes hungry. He knew the struggle was lost, because
his whole body was on fire, his prick trying to burst out of his pants.

They looked at each other. Then he undressed quickly, aware of her gasp when she saw his rock hard
rod. She quickly eased to the stage, presenting her rear.

"Yes!" she cried. That was the position he wanted to fuck her in, dog fashion, with those sexy buttocks
flexing on his thighs. Quickly he knelt behind her, fitted his eager cock to her cunt, then shoved.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Oh!" he echoed.

Both of them shuddered in delight as the big cock oozed up tight into her cunt. For a few seconds he
hugged her, holding her still, reveling in his possession of her, of his sensations of delight as those
gorgeous hams caressed his naked thighs. He wanted more. He reached under her belly and slid a hand
up the smooth skin to cup one of her ripe tits, hard nipple lovingly pressed to his palm. His body glowed
and thrilled in joy. He'd missed a lot when he limited himself to pronging hard-muscled girls. He felt as if
his big, stiff cock could tear open her entire soft body to make her scream in taken ecstasy.

He fucked three glorious strokes into her belly, then hung on her lips, letting his prick dry throb as it
savored her slick, tight nest, anticipating the hot, driving friction to come.

"Bunny?" he called down.

"Yes?"

"I can see that you were masturbating - ah - and lost your ring in your vagina. So how come you couldn't
feel for it yourself later?"

"I had to masturbate. Vic doesn't screw me much. He likes to be sucked most of the time."

"So you could feel in there after the ring."

"If I felt in there, I'd get excited and have to do myself and you'd let me. If you felt - oh, I love this - then
I knew you'd cock-ream me, and I need it!"

"Oh." He began to flex his thrilled cock in and out of her wet, slick cunt. "But y-you really lost your ring?"

"Yes . . . look for it later," she moaned. "Please. . . fuck my heels off now!"

The next few moments were a dizzy ecstasy for both of them. He sensed her extreme need for a good
cock reaming, while he went sex-crazed to drive hard cock into soft belly while he bathed in the yielding
sweetness of her body, hugging, stroking, caressing, and building their fires.

"Oh, Phil. Oh, now!" she cried in wounded fervor. Throb, throb, throb. Almost without a paralysis her
belly and cunt muscles tightened and she spent off her womanhood with those quick, furtive flutters and
squeezes, like the time they'd sucked. He drove her through her sublime orgasm proudly, knowing that
he could make her come over and over.

Panting, she sagged a little under his weight as she finished her sweet orgasm.

"Oh, Phil. It's in the other hole. I just remembered."

He was miles away in the purple land of friction ecstasy, enjoying his fuck power.

"Wha-what?"

"The ring. It could be in the other hole."

The idea sent a huge sex thrill through his whole body, so strong it almost paralyzed him and made him

shoot jism.

"The . . . the other hole."

"Look. Feel for it, please," she begged.

Panting himself, he pulled his cock out of her cunt, separated those luscious buttocks and looked at her
dainty ass-pucker.

"Oh, Texas!" he sang. He greased a finger with her copious oils and forced her sphincter with that finger.
Hot. Wet. Soooo tight!

She gave an animal grunt of violation as he unsealed her asshole which harmonized with his cry of
surprise.

"The ring!"

It was inside her gut.

He was really hot now. The only way she could've lost her ring up inside her butt was by caressing her
back passage with her own finger, the long finger upon which she wore it. That meant she liked ass
stimulation when she masturbated.

Phil fumbled out the ring and flung it aside.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, th-thanks."

But he dug his well-oiled cock head against her sphincter.

"My reward, baby. Sorry, but I got to do it. Been dreaming of your ass."

"Phil!" she screamed as he notched her small hole.

There was no way he could stop. Full lust to ream that sexy ass was upon him. He grunted and bunted.
She screamed in pain. His thick, stiff cock was twice as wide as her slim finger and then some. Her tight
sphincter tried to resist but lost the battle to the invading cock. Panting, gasping in pleasure he oozed
through the thick muscle.

"Ahhh, nooo," she wailed. "Can't stand it!"

He knew she felt pain. Her entrance muscle was cruelly peeled back. But he had to have the carnal thrill
of driving his cock deep into her loin mass. She struggled and jerked helplessly, protesting and moaning
as he fucked her open.

"Too much! Too big. It hurts! Oh!"

"Want your ass," he gasped. He drove his prick deep into her.

Waves of thrills shot down his pleased shaft into his belly and sent pleasure throughout his body. It was
sublime.

"Oh, Texas, I love it!" he cried.

"Ah, ah!" Her sides heaved in distress. She was impaled in her tender, private hole, the ruthless cock
riding close to vital, living organs.

It was not so different from a cunt, though the friction was better. Her passage was even tighter than
her tight cunt. The interior body heat thrilled him. The slick feel of pink gut, the fist-squeeze of her
sphincter added wild joy to his reaming. Best of all, those exquisite jelly-silk hams worked and quivered
on his front so tight to his body that he could feel her little interior shifts and jerks of stimulation as she
tried to ease her pain and get pleasure.

"Sorry . . . got to have . . . ass!"

Suddenly she began to work her loins back and forth to increase the sweet pleasure on his shaft.
Apparently the pain of first violation had eased.

"Fuck me. Fuck my ass!" she yipped. I've always wanted it . . . never dared ask . . . used my finger. Oh,
oh, oh!"

Phil got one arm under her soft, moist belly, the other across her shoulders, held her secure and rammed
his loins furiously back and forth, fucking her hot, slick hole as if it were the last sex opening he'd ever
master. The touch of perversion made it absolutely tops in animal pleasure.

"Ah, ah, ah, God!" he keened.

"Going, going," she gasped. She had one finger on her clit in her cunt. Since she'd already trained her
asshole as a sex passage she went right up to glory with the fierce savaging of Phil's prick. Later her rear
would burn and ache from the brutal usage, but in the heat of the wildness she shared his crazed pleasure
with him.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe it!" she sang as her whole sex system whipped to orgasm. Then she locked
and began to throb. As she came for the second time, her sphincter squeezed involuntarily on Phil's
cock, maddening him with extra thrills.

"Ah baby, oh my God, yesssss!" he cried. His blade was almost glazed to glory, but he gritted his teeth
and drove the girl through her spasms of pleasure. This time her throbs were not the frightened, furtive
flutters of cunt stimulation, but big, bold and powerful squeezes of a fully taken female, like Flair's had
been.

Throb, throb, throb.

She began to sag again, muttering as she ended her orgasm and fell off her peak. Phil's had just begun.

He thrilled to ecstasy as he reached his high orgasmic state. He felt his body control slip away from him
as muscles and glands organized to give him his massive pleasure explosion. He went into sublime lock
and paralysis, grunting happily and hung for long seconds in that delicious, delirious state of suspension
just before throwing, where his whole body tensed for the pleasure rushes to come. His immobile prick
was buried hilt-deep in the girl's gut, shaft and cock head locked in soft, hot, wet and clutching meat.

Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt.

He had to give a non-humorous laugh of tension relief as his cock shot darts of body-hot cream high into
her intestine. She jerked and moaned as she took each gush of sperm deep in her violated gut. And her
cunt and sphincter throbbed some more in excitement, drawing off male burst of semen in this perverted
fashion.

"Oh," she cried, squirming. "Oh, oh, I finally got it deep in my ass!"

"Honey, so . . . fantastic," he grunted, letting the burst come. It seemed like he had a gallon of jism

burning to seed her asshole. He pumped it all off, hugging the moist, fucked girl, until he tapered and
finished. Then he sank, weak, on her soft body, relishing the feel of his still-stiff blade rammed up her
tight gut, bathed generously on its spent sperm, clutched hotly by her glove-like tunnel.

She was too dazed from her own massive orgasm to move, although his weight was too heavy on her.

"Now Vic will walk in," he murmured. But Vic did not walk in, nor Flair nor anyone else. For once he'd
completed the sex act he desired without interruption. Just as well, he thought as he reluctantly pulled out
of Texas's ass. He would not want it to get around town that he buggered females. Yet what was so bad
about it? They'd both had a hugely delicious time once his entry was achieved.

Chapter 4

The mayor of Atlantic City was there and a host of other city officials. As Phil predicted, Houdini drew
senators, congressmen and other of the city's leading lights because it was a well-publicized black tie
affair. There was barely room for the press, the important and the near important in the small auditorium
and flash-powder trays burst in dazzling light as endless pictures were taken.

A small orchestra played on the stage and then Phil put on his regular water show for the blue ribbon
audience. It was well-received as the crowd was in a holiday mood, waiting for Houdini's appearance.

Houdini appeared in a dress suit while his attendants brought forth a coffin-like metal box similar to the
one he used in his New York hotel immersion. The great artist was small in stature and stocky with
twinkling, blue-gray eyes and, not at the age of 52, had a receding hairline over an extra wide brow.

"He always manages to look rumpled," Bess his wife explained to Phil as they watched from the wings.
"Someday I hope they invent a wrinkleproof suit for men."

"Ah, but when he gives the crowd that dazzling smile and opens his mouth he's listened to like a king,"
Phil replied.

Houdini suddenly jerked at his sleeves and his arms were bare from the elbows down. It was the old
magicians' challenge of "Nothing up my sleeves." Then he did card tricks, enjoying himself as much as
the audience enjoyed him.

"We work in such big theatres," whispered Bess, "that he's really excited tonight to have this intimate
place where he can do pint-sized tricks that everybody can see." Then Houdini did some handcuff
escapes and was finally sealed in his box and lowered by ropes to the bottom of the aquarium tank. The
orchestra played, the audience buzzed expectantly. But by the time an hour had passed, the room was
silent and electric with tension. What human could possibly survive without air for so long under water.
Was Houdini now a lifeless corpse at the bottom of the great link?

At an hour and fifteen minutes people called for the box to be lifted, sure Houdini was dead or near
death. A sense of genuine catastrophe filled the auditorium. But Phil noted that Bess Houdini merely
smiled.

A bell rang at the mark of an hour and twenty minutes, the box was lifted and opened and Houdini
emerged, weak and pale but smiling. He received a thunderous ovation. There had been no tricks
involved, he had lived on the natural air sealed in with him for all that time.

For the next hour the place was a milling crowd of well-wishers, everybody wanting to meet Houdini in
this intimate place. Usually in vast theatres there was no chance to meet him after a show.

"We're eternally grateful," Phil told Houdini when at last the crowd began to thin and the magician, his

wife and entourage were about to leave. "It seems like a lot of trouble to put you to for such a small
audience."

"Listen to me, Phil," said Houdini. "You did me a favor. When I beat that Egyptian's time on his
immersion, some people said I was lucky. They said I couldn't do it again. Tonight the papers were
here and the story goes out on the wires across the country. So, quickly and easily I nailed it down that I
can beat his one hour time any day I want. That frees me to go on to my big fall show and develop some
new things. I won't be challenged on that one again. Besides, Bess and I can enjoy a couple of days off
at the beach."

"For which I'm grateful," said Bess Houdini, proudly taking her husband's arm. Phil noted that Houdini
seemed well recovered from his ordeal of the evening.

Before the magician left he gave Phil some advice.

"I'll leave my metal box. You can have it for a display. Your business should be good for a couple of
weeks in the aftermath of the publicity. Charge 'em five bucks a head. After that I'd fold the show.
Your place here is really too small. I struggled for years as a near failure in dime museums in the old days
and nothing can break your heart like small time show business."

"Oh, I've got a big one coming up," smiled Phil.

"Good boy. Once you get off the ground, keep flying!" Houdini and his group were gone with friendly
waves. Phil stood there feeling great. There was no limit to the man's talents; in addition to everything
else he was a pioneer aviator, which is why he left Phil with that aeronautical advice.

Vic Singleton was beside himself with delight. "Tonight was big time for me!" he crooned. "Tonight was
the big night of my life. I looked the mayor and the police chief in the eye and they looked right back and
smiled. We even shook hands. You were right, boy. It was time for me to leave the rackets. That
Houdini of yours was really something. I'm going to have those pictures framed in gold!"

"There's more to come," said Phil. But he was too astute to introduce his new idea while Singleton
floated on the euphoria of tonight's success.

Everyone was so hopped up by the excitement that they gave a midnight show, charging $5 a head this
time and filled the place. Flair was in good spirits and Texas Bunny was in good voice. Even George, the
cynic, seemed mellow.

"In show business you get one good night a year," he said. "Tonight was our night for this year."

Two days later Phil saw Maddy for the first time.

She was half-naked in that first sight of her because Vic Singleton had stripped her of her nurse's whites
to her waist and feasted on one of Maddy's round, ivory breasts. Maddy Metcalf had the clearest, finest
textured skin Phil had ever seen on a woman. In addition she had lustrous black hair that fell well below
her shoulders. Not for her the short-haired flapper style that the hot mamas of the day favored!

Phil had started to leave the bath to go into the master bedroom of the yacht when the other two entered
the room and began their love play. They didn't see or hear him because Vic's sexual attack on the girl
absorbed them both.

"Oh, Vic, should we?" moaned Maddy. She gasped and rolled her head in sensuous pleasure as the
older man assaulted first one and then the other of her big, pink nipples.

"We should!" laughed Vic.

Phil froze in shock, unable to believe his eyes. He'd come three thousand miles to find his former girl and
to give her fame in a new career. A thousand nights since she'd left him in 1924 he'd dreamed wistfully of
holding that firm yet feminine body in his arms and caressing that creamy, delectable skin, pillaging her
rich charms once more. Her brilliant green eyes would go dazed with passion; her nipples of those high,
full breasts would harden and her tight little cunt would gleam with desire juices.

Like most endurance swimmers, like Flair, Maddy had a voluptuous and sturdy body. She had strong
flanks and buttocks, shapely arms, a graceful back and powerful, tapered thighs and calves. Her flesh
was tight on her frame, and that clear ivory skin made her a lover's dream.

Only it was Phil's millionaire patron who held the girl in his arms, fixed his mouth to those nipples and
kissed those well-shaped lips. Maddy moaned in desire.

As Phil watched, thunderstruck, Singleton peeled off the rest of Maddy's clothes and there she stood
naked, exactly as Phil remembered her. Worse, she stood in the exact spot where Flair Singleton had
jacked Phil off in her virgin lust, a little over two weeks ago.

Phil's cock began to thicken even as he stared in horror at the scene before him.

Vic who wore only a robe pulled the nude girl to the bed.

"Vic, is it safe?" asked Maddy.

"Sure, baby, they're all on shore with my water show, your uncle George, your ex-boyfriend, Texas
Bunny and Flair. I gave orders for nobody to come aboard tonight. The crew and servants are all
below."

"How is Phil?"

"That kid is the greatest. Did I tell you about Houdini?"

"I read the story and saw the pictures in the New York papers."

"Listen, wait till you hear the rest of it. I'm sponsoring an endurance swim way out on Catalina Island in
California near Hollywood. Since Gertrude Ederle got her ticker tape parade in New York and became
a national heroine, endurance swimmers are hot news."

"I saw her. They say she'll star at the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial and get $10,000 for it."

"And you can be the next Gertrude Ederle, baby. Listen."

Vic took off his robe, revealing his own nudity. An average-sized cock, very hard, jutted up from a nest
of white-streaked pubic hair. The sight of it sickened Phil as did the realization that the older guy had a
pretty good body. Phil guessed that bootlegging had kept old Singleton physically active. Maddy took
hold of that rival cock and jogged it, while Vic rubbed his hand into the glossy black hair around
Maddy's cunt and then fingered into her. They both moaned and made pleasure sounds of sexual
arousal. "Mmmmmmm. Ah, ah."

Phil's cock was hard, and so were his fists. He burned to leap into that bedroom and kill Vic, but he was
still too stunned to act.

"Your clever boyfriend, Phil - " Vic resumed.

"Ex-boyfriend," Maddy interjected.

". . . has got it all fixed up," said Vic. "He has an agreement with the owners of Catalina Island to put on
an all-invitational swim. Since I'm putting up the dough, it'll be the Victor Singleton Invitational Catalina
Swim. It's open to everybody, amateur and professional. Dubs and pros. I'll get my name in every
newspaper in the world because nobody's swum that channel yet, not on record. How do you like that?"

"It sounds great." Maddy leaned up on her elbow to look down at Vic.

"I'm glad Phil's finally getting a break."

"Now comes the best part. You, Maddy Metcalf, will win that swim, Phil thinks. He wants to train you
for the next two or three months. We put on the big swim next January. At that time of the year the
island is dead. This brings in a thousand tourists which the owners like, which is why they've agreed to it."

"Oh, Vic!" breathed Maddy.

"We'll both be world famous!" cried Singleton. Me as sponsor, you as swim winner. Then we can get
married!"

"Oh, Vic!" cried Maddy.

It was as if someone had hit Phil with an axe. Married! It had gone that far!

"We are going to get married, aren't we?" asked Vic.

"I told you I would, lover," said Maddy. "First you had to give up bootlegging."

The fact that Vic wanted to marry Maddy and that she would accept him stopped Phil cold. Now he
could not invade that bedroom to try to reclaim Maddy. He could only listen in agony. And watch . . . as
Maddy leaned over Vic's body and sucked his prick into her mouth.

"Ohhhh, lover!" crooned Vic happily.

"Does Phil know about us?" asked Maddy, jacking off the man in the soft gleam of her saliva. "Does
Flair?"

"Uh, so good! Flair suspects, but Phil doesn't know. I told him you nursed my mother when the old lady
won't let anybody near her but Old Lady Cosgrove. Nobody knows you're on my payroll but working
in New York charity wards until I could convince you to marry me."

"I'm ready," said Maddy.

Phil felt his world shatter. Everything he'd done for Maddy would fall into Vic's arms. His project . . .
Vic had the money for that, he didn't. Vic and Maddy would come out on top of the Catalina swim.
Worse, he'd actually removed the last barrier to their marriage by pulling Vic out of the rackets. Before
that Maddy wouldn't marry him. He? He was no better than a servant, like those two thugs Vic used to
keep with him. Even worse than that, he could hardly be angry at Vic. He'd deflowered Vic's daughter
in front of the older man's eyes, just about. He had shot off his gun in the mouth of Vic's mistress as the
man walked in on it. He owed Singleton something for that and Vic got it back now by taking his
woman!

"There's one more hitch, Vic," said Maddy. Phil listened as hard as Vic did. "You'll have to get rid of
Texas Bunny. She's your mistress."

"Ah, child, I'm through with that mixed-up broad. Do you know she actually wanted me to fuck her in
the ass? Perverted! I've already walked away from that one!"

And who, thought Phil bitterly, made Texas bold enough to reveal her back door hang-up. I did by
falling in with her fantasy.

"Such vulgar talk," said Maddy. "I don't want to hear any more."

Then Maddy gave a happy laugh, straddled the ex-bootlegger and fit his stiff shaft to her pink slit. They
both bucked and Phil saw the ultimate horror, Vic's cock violate Maddy's precious cunt to take
possession of her belly.

Tears stung Phil's eyes as he watched Maddy's elegant legs spread wide, Vic's prick work in and out of
her belly and her white buttocks squeeze in ecstasy. He wanted to tear himself away, yet he could not. It
was as if he had a penance to pay to watch his rival fuck his dream girl. He witnessed their carnal
pleasure, their grunts and moans of rising passion, seeing the man's blade flash faster and faster into his
beloved, decorated with her hot, willing juices. She flexed and keened in exquisite joy. It seemed forever
before they rose to climax, but Phil watched it all. At last Vic held those white, round buttocks to lock
Maddy's pelvis to his and gave a happy cry. "Oh, I'm gone!" and spurted his hot seed into her cunt.

"Vic, ohmigod!" responded Maddy. She gave up her own orgasm in healthy pleasure as Phil could tell
from her paralyzed body, dazed eyes and loin jerks.

As they clung together, panting, glowing from their hot sex run, he could finally turn away in sorrow.
Behind him the window leading on to the deck was big enough for him to escape through. He managed
to get out on the deck, where he stood alone, staring up at a big moon that made the black waters of the
bay glitter.

He'd swum out here alone. An hour before after the last show he'd met Flair as he strolled toward the
Steel Pier heading for his boarding house. She told him Maddy had arrived and was on Vic's boat. She
said they weren't supposed to go over there till morning; she was staying over with Texas. Even then he
hadn't been suspicious.

But walking on alone he suddenly decided to surprise Maddy. He hid his clothes on shore and swam to
the yacht, enjoying the cool night air. In these magic moments he was on top of the world. Once aboard
the yacht he went straight to the bathroom for relief, and that was where Vic and Maddy trapped him
and changed his life forever. In a single hour he'd been plunged from the heights to the depths.

A dripping figure came up onto the deck from the ladder. Moonlight glittered on the gleaming, nude
figure of Flair Singleton, water drops like crystals.

"I saw you swim out," said the girl. "I figured I didn't want to spend the night on land either."

Phil was still in a state of shock. "Your father . . . Maddy. They're lovers! They plan to get married."

"I was afraid of that," said Flair. "He's been chasing that stupid broad for a long time."

"He . . . they . . . I saw them just now. They fucked!" cried Phil as if it were something beyond all human
ken.

"You still love her," said Flair.

"No, of course not, I . . . ."

Phil became aware of a shooting pleasure in his penis. He looked down. Both Flair's hands had closed
over his hard-on. His prong was still rigid from the hot scene in the cabin.

"Oh, now," he said, startled.

"Texas has told me about oral sex. She gets great store on what she called 'cocksucking'. Will you teach
me?"

"Flair, I . . . ."

Phil wanted to say he was in no mood for sex. He never wanted to touch a woman again in his life. His
soul was shattered and he'd been thinking of diving over the side of the yacht and sinking into the depths.
He could see the shocked, sorrowful faces of Vic and Maddy as they stared down at his corpse in his
coffin. How they'd regret their hot sex together!

Flair fell to her knees. She bent his cock down. She took it in her mouth. She sucked on it awkwardly.
Phil felt a whisper of sexuality turn into a rush of pleasure.

"Now, Flair, dammit!" he protested.

"Teach me, Phil! I have to find out what suck is like."

"Oh, listen, I don't think I want to . . . ahhh!" Without thinking he bunted his cock into Flair's hot, sucking
mouth, feeling the wetness, feeling the sexy ridge of her teeth drag over those sensitive cock nerves.

"It tastes like meat!" she exclaimed in surprise and seized his jong once again.

He howled. She'd bitten down too hard. He pulled her loose.

"What am I!" he cried. "Some kind of frigging sex teacher to all of Vic Singleton's women? Stop it!"

But she merely said, "You want it," and sucked in his prick again, this time softer but with elegant power.
Incredible rushes of delight shot through his belly. He held onto her wet, silken head and fucked into her
mouth with a groan. She was absolutely right. The lines of her naked body, glistening with water drops,
the feel her outrageous, beautiful mouth on his rod, whipped up his lust right through all his sorrow and
anger. But he tried one more time.

"Flair, I spend all my life getting into trouble over sex. For once I'd like to walk away from it. Control
m-my . . . oh, my . . . lust. Do you understand?"

She stopped sucking on him and looked up at his face, her lovely features incredible in the moonlight.

"Teach me to suck," she said.

They were absolutely alone on the deck. He hadn't had relief since the anal trip with Texas two days
before Houdini came. His pleasure nerves were on fire. He slid down to the deck, pulled the voluptuous
girl flat beside him. He placed his cock at her mouth and his head at her cunt.

"I'll teach you the double suck!" he cried. He nuzzled his head into her crotch and found her cunt.

"Wup!" she said. "Hoooo." She shuddered in pleasure, scissored her legs around his head. "Texas didn't
say it worked both ways."

He ran his tongue into her hot, wet vagina, stroking her stiffened clitoris. She gave a gasp of pleasure
wounding. "Oh, my goodness! Oh, my soul!"

Vic's meat. Vic's beautiful young daughter, incredibly sexy, dumb, cold, phlegmatic. But underneath her
father-repressed surface she might be an animal of lust.

"My cu . . . my box!" she whimpered. He remembered that she could not say "cunt". He inhaled a circle
of her cunt flesh with her clit in the middle of it. He tongued on the girl's main sex nerve and thrilled to
feel her whole, rich body quiver and jerk in exquisite pleasure. All he had to do was caress less than a
cubic inch of flesh in her big body and he controlled the whole lovely carcass. He laughed in rueful
humor. Drunks returned to the bottle. Sex destroyed him and he returned to sex. He gulped down her
sweet gland juices, hot, exciting.

"Flair, have you had sex since that time with me?"

"No! I hate men. I'll never marry. I just wanted to try this one thing."

He hugged her firm but soft thighs in delight.

"You're a cold bitch," he laughed, "but I can fuck you. And suck you. I'll bet I could even cornhole
you. I own you. You're helpless girl meat. I could even marry you if I wanted."

"No! No! I don't love you. I don't love anybody."

He felt wildly reckless. He pulled his head off her steaming, streaming box. "Then let's stop this sex right
now."

She didn't answer. She just grabbed his cock and began to suck on it. He laughed in triumph and
gripped her buttocks. She, too, had gorgeous hams, as rounded as Texas Bunny's but much more firm
and muscular. He parted her mounds and ran his tongue up onto her ass pucker. She jerked as if shot.

"Holy mackerel!"

"Suppose I sucked out your cunt juices, pronged my tongue into your asshole and then rammed it into
your mouth," he said. "You'd love that, wouldn't you, Flair."

"Holy mackerel!"

But he was through teasing her. He was burning hot with throw desire. Her body was moist with sex
sweat and his words had inflamed her poor puritanical mind. She humped crazily on his mouth and tried
to suck his blade. In a trembling voice, feeling the hot joy of her eager attempts on his prong, he
instructed her on how to give him pleasure. He dug his tongue into her cunt, sucked more of her juices,
fingered into her flowing vagina and kept up a steady rhythm on her clit. Her big body writhed in ecstasy
and he could imagine her dazed, strained face as she experienced her first double trip of oral sex.

"Phil, it's crazy, wild. I never dreamed anything could feel so good.

Oh, oh, oh."

He'd lost Maddy, he acquired Flair, whom he didn't particularly want. But the big, dumb kid was one
hot sex package, sixty times better than masturbation.

She was in her pre-orgasmic distress now, bucking, gasping, hardly able to keep up her part of the suck.
Her magnificent body heaved in her desire to surrender her womanhood to him. Once again he tongued
up into her crack. Her seam was ripe now with her escaped cunt oils, very sexy. He pressed his tongue
on her sphincter and worked it, knowing that the sensitive nerves that protected her life-necessary hole
were set on fire. She responded.

"Yeeee," she went. "Yeeee!"

She came up to lock with a gasp of wonder. Those silken thighs clamped around his head. Her muscles
tensed. Then she gave up her cunt to him. Throb, throb, throb. God, she did have a store of passion
which, for some dumb reason, he was the one to reach. Keening "Oh, oh, oh," she gave him her full,
complete orgasm with surprising openness. In the past he'd found that some shy girls remained shy in
bed.

At last she fell back, spent, panting. "Phil, it was sooooo good."

He laughed and pulled her warm body on top of his. "Now it's my turn."

She'd learned her lesson well. In seconds she had him dizzy and grunting as she sucked, tongue and
teased his prick with the bony ridge of her teeth.

"Oh, Flair. Close . . . close . . . getting there!" he crooned.

Then he passed the ineffable, inevitable boundary when it was no longer possible to stop his orgasm.

"Remember, drink!" he grunted as he slid into paralysis.

"I Will!"

She sucked. He exploded.

Spurt, spurt, spurt. His jism was liquid fury, expended against his sorrow, his shock and his eternal lust.
Flair held his cock in her mouth and drank off the spasms of relief and pleasure as he had ordered,
milking him deliciously.

"Ah, Flair, drink! Ah, God, good!" he sang, letting it all go and spume out of him into her mouth, down
her throat, his powerful manhood spurting what felt like a gallon of body-hot jism into her being. When
he tapered, his prick felt immediately sensitive, so he withdrew it, catching his breath, delighted with the
saliva sting on his blade, at all like sex. He kissed and nibbled Flair's satiny thighs in appreciation, and
she responded in kind, the two of them stretched out flat and naked on the deck.

Footsteps. Suddenly he heard Maddy's voice.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

He looked up and there stood Maddy staring down on them, obviously seeing what had happened.
Maddy was fully dressed. She was alone.

"Pig!" she cried. "Filthy, disgusting. Phil, you haven't changed a bit in two years. You're a regular sex
maniac!"

Chapter 5

The Twentieth Century Limited roared into Chicago and dropped off Vic Singleton's group on its way to
the coast. Out of Chicago they took the Coast Flyer for the rest of the transcontinental hop.

The train swayed and bounced at a high rate of speed, but George Panther was bored. They had three
more days and nights to reach Los Angeles, and nobody was happy in the group except Vic and Maddy.

It was the middle of September, with Atlantic City and the water show behind them. As Houdini
predicted, they'd had a couple of good weeks of business, filling the aquarium twice a night at five

dollars a shot, and then suddenly it all faded, so they closed the show. It was time to move on to
California and Vic's Invitational endurance swim.

Now it was early evening as they beat their way across Illinois towards Kansas City. Texas Bunny sat in
George and Phil's compartment talking over the future in glum tones with George.

"Phil's in the club car getting stewed tonight, like last night," said George. "You know why?"

"Of course I know why," said Texas. "Maddy's compartment is right next to Flair's and mine. Vic
Singleton spent most of the night in with her. Phil's really carrying the torch for that ridiculous brunette."

"And you're carrying the torch for Vic, and Flair's sore at her old man for planning to marry Maddy,"
said George. "One big, happy family."

"I'm lucky Vic even brought me along," said Texas in her shy, quiet voice. "But if I can get out to
Hollywood, maybe I can find a spot in pictures."

George knew her hope. They were experimenting with sound in motion pictures these days. As a singer,
Texas thought she might get in on the ground floor. George doubted that sound would make the grade. It
was a great idea but there were thousands of theatres across the land, none wired for sound, and the
cost to change them would run higher than the national budget.

"At least you have no problems," said Texas. "You'll stay with the team and do the swim." There was no
place for her in the Catalina action.

"I got problems," said George. "Everybody's fucking everybody in this group, if you'll excuse my French,
but I'm not getting any."

Texas laughed. "There're all kinds of women on this train."

"I've seen 'em," said George. "How about you and me tonight."

"Sorry, George," said Texas. She rose quickly. "I like you but not in that way."

"A million times I've heard that," gloomed George.

After she left, George sat there nursing his flask and feeling bad about his low position on the totem pole.
Vic could tap Maddy and Texas Bunny. He was pretty sure Phil had racked up Texas as well as Flair.
Three gorgeous broads and he got nothing. It just wasn't fair. Fuck Maddy, his niece? Why not? She
was like a stranger to him.

After a bit Phil came in, looking rocky and glum, stripped and fell into his bunk. He was snoring before
George could get out of the compartment. Poor guy, his big triumph was dust in his mouth.

George headed for the club car to find the swaying train's passengers already settling down for the night.
Berths were made up, people were retiring.

George found Vic Singleton in the club car, with a worried look, going over his figures for the Catalina
swim. Phil was really sticking big numbers on Singleton's board; it had to be a class operation. Good for
Phil.

He spoke with Vic for a moment who said:

"Oh, George, would you mind giving Maddy a message for me? Tell her I'm going to bed early tonight."
He gave George a wry smile. "Getting a little too much sex, I'm afraid," he whispered. "You know, older

guy, younger woman. They want a lot. You see, if I go to tell her, I'll get excited again and the first thing
you know it's another night in her compartment. I'm plumb wore out."

"It must be hard," said George, burning with envy.

"Or soft," kidded Vic. "A little too soft tonight."

He was gone with the wave of his hand.

George began to look for a knowing porter who did not believe in the Volstead Act and would find a
way to refill his flask. I'll tell her, her thought. In fact, I'll put a one-night stand for you, Vic, and try to
keep the kid happy. I oughta be good for one night.

Flask refilled, wallet lighter, George headed back to their Pullman, his resentment growing. What he
ought to do was tie Vic's kid on her bunk and rip off a piece himself. He was getting real tired of moving
among these three luscious dames and not getting any.

"I'm tired of men," said Flair to Texas Bunny. Flair sat on her bunk in her panties and bra watching the
platinum blonde comb her hair.

"Tell me about it," said Texas. She smiled to herself. She knew that Flair had been a virgin until recently
and had had no man except Phil. Wonderful Phil, with that huge, stiff prong.

"I'll never marry," said Flair.

"Good idea, honey. Men drain you," said Texas. She had a suspicion of Flair's problem. Since Flair's
father had dropped Texas, Flair had suddenly become friendly with her. Right now Flair hated Maddy.

"I could be a lesbian," said Flair.

"Sure you could, honey," said Texas. "With your looks you could be anything." It was said without
rancor. Texas was well satisfied with her own beauty, except that she was thirty to Flair's twenty. But so
what?

"Have you ever done it?" asked Flair.

"Done what, Flair?"

"Made love to another woman."

"Not me!" laughed Texas. "There's no chance of a home, kids and a strong wage-earner if you go that
way."

"You don't want a home and kids," said Flair. "You want to sing, excite men and make your money."

Suddenly Texas felt herself caught from behind and felt a warm, near-nude body pressing her. "You're
sexy," said Flair dreamily. "Soft, sweet."

"My meat is loose on my bones, honey," laughed Texas nervously. She put down her comb. "Some men
like that."

Flair kissed Texas on the back of the neck where shoulder joined throat. Texas shivered in a tremor of
excitement.

"I'll bet we could make it," whispered Flair.

"Oh child, cut it out!" said Texas in alarm.

"I have to learn about sex," said Flair. "I'm twenty and totally ignorant."

Texas felt strong hands cup her breasts from behind. She wore only a thin dressing gown and her nipples
jumped to life as Flair squeezed them. Texas felt a rush of sexuality clear down to her cunt.

"Nice," said Flair. Her voice sounded aroused.

"Cut it out!" cried Texas in her soft voice, thoroughly alarmed.

A strong hand ran up the slope of her throat and turned her head to her shoulder. Flair's warm lips
sought hers and kissed.

"We're all alone in here, nobody to see or hear," whispered Flair. "We could get ourselves off and
nobody would know. Isn't that swaying of the train sexy?"

"Forget it!" cried Texas in distress. She jumped up and freed herself. She turned to her bunk. Flair gave
an excited laugh and caught her, fell on her taking her down on the bunk.

"Why don't we fool around a little?" said Flair.

Texas was really scared now. Flair was athletic, strong, weighed more than she did, and was younger to
boot. And willful. Worse, that kiss on the lips had excited her some.

"Lay off of me!" cried Texas. She began to struggle which was a mistake. Flair held her down and
wrestled, peeling off her robe. Texas found herself naked with Flair's big breasts almost in her face.

"Oh damn!" said Texas. She tried to strike Flair but the younger girl held her arm.

"You screwed my father," said Flair. "Why not try the rest of the Singleton meat."

"Flair!" gasped Texas. "Stop." Flair had put her strong hand on Texas Bunny's cunt.

Texas didn't know what to do. Flair was sort of spoiled, always got what she wanted. She might get
them into deep trouble without realizing it. Then she had to gasp as Flair held her tight and fingered first
along her cunt lips and then began to work a digit inside.

"Oh, Flair, don't do this!" she begged.

"I've never felt inside a cu-box except my own," said Flair. "Even that I couldn't feel much of until I lost
my maidenhead. Just let me feel."

"No, no, no!" cried Texas, struggling. Her butt came off the bed, her legs spread. She gave a fruity groan
as her teased cunt wetted and Flair's long finger dipped into her honey interior. "Ohmigod," Texas
whimpered. Thrill after thrill shot up her belly as Flair force-masturbated her. That demanding finger
caressing her clit was arousing her, heating her up.

"You're so good looking," breathed Flair. Her hot eyes swept Texas's body. Frigging Texas, she
suddenly dropped her head and began to suck one of Texas's tits.

"Aw, Gawd!" gasped Texas, thrilling, struggling, dizzy with sudden good feeling.. Flair had a real tight
friction going on her clit. That questing tongue on her nipple crazed her further.

Flair lifted her head. "You're one hot bitch," she said as they both watched Texas Bunny's loins rock and

buck to the masturbation.

"Oh my God, Flair, please don't d-do this," Bunny begged.

"I just want to see," began Flair. Then suddenly she capped Bunny's soft lips with hers and forced open
Bunny's mouth. Texas felt the soft, smooth tongue slide in.

In spite of herself Texas took the hot, wet kiss for a few seconds as her heart thumped madly. She was
hot now with her cunt flowing and her belly on fire with desire.

"I can make you come!" cried Flair, like a kid with a new toy. "I know I can!"

"S-s-sure!" moaned Texas. She was fairly lost now, rocking her taken cunt on Flair's finger, her nipples
burning, her belly ready.

The attack stopped as suddenly as it had began. Flair removed her finger, let go of Texas Bunny and fell
back on the bunk. Her own hand moved to stroke her own cunt.

"I'm wet," she announced. "I'm kind of hot."

Texas was plenty hot. For some reason this sudden withdrawal made her mad.

"You bitch!" she cried in her soft voice. She flung herself on Flair's body, and bit the hard, standing
nipple of one of Flair's gorgeous breasts. She expected Flair to scream, but the girl only moaned in
pleasure. The bra had saved her.

"Oh, yessss, I like that!" crooned Flair. While Texas looked at her astonished, she unhooked her bra
and presented her naked tit. Texas bit again on the exposed hard nipple, felt the caress of the soft breast
flesh. She felt her belly heat up some more. It was delightful to kiss another woman's breasts with ardor.
Especially a good-looking girl like Flair.

"I like it, too!" said Texas. She palmed one nipple and ate the other. Criminy, Flair was really built. Her
own nipples thrilled to dig against Flair's smooth, yielding flesh.

"Just a minute."

Flair struggled under Texas and removed her panties. Their naked bellies came together. Softly they
both made fuck motions against the pelvis of the other. Texas found the results were startling. Female
pelvic bones dragged sexily on soft, wet cunts, stimulating eager clitoris. Flair's hot cunt honey smeared
on Texas's platinum bush. She moaned, while Flair gasped.

Flair put her hands on Texas' soft buttocks and held their loins tight together while they ground out glory,
each staring into the other's eyes, with expressions of daring, pleasure, wonder and even a little
embarrassment flitting over their faces, each emotion in turn.

"Incredible," said Flair.

"Sexy," said Texas.

"Hot, wet," said Flair.

"We can come like this," breathed Texas, humping faster.

Time stopped for Texas Bunny, getting the best of the action in the superior position. She was wildly
excited by Flair's body now, experiencing a totally new sensation. Flair was muscled but not like a man.

She wasn't hard, just firm. Her hot young skin flowed through Texas' hands as the singer rocked and
crooned in pleasure, white hot from the clit contact. Texas kissed and nibbled Flair's big nipples until the
younger woman whimpered in distress-desire. She sank her mouth on Flair's sucking out juices from the
hot young mouth; she felt the big, voluptuous body squirm and writhe deliciously under her. All the time
she was rising, rising.

And the train swayed along in a gentle, sexual motion that added fire to her flames.

"Oh, God, I'm fucked!" Texas cried as she reached her peak. She stared down at Flair in horror as she
realized she was about to spend her womanhood in perverted lesbian debauchery. There was no way to
stop it. She thrilled to ecstasy.

"Oh, Flair!" She froze and paid off her sex treasure. Throb, throb, throb. Her cunt thudded and fluttered
in delicious spasms that quenched the hot, brilliant fire in her belly. Flair held her buttocks tight and
ground off Texas' deep body throbs with her pelvis, while Texas moaned and Flair murmured happily to
feel this new sex experience, a hot, flowing cunt expiring against her belly. The combined female juices
oiled their bellies, cunts and thighs liberally.

Then breathing hard Texas slumped on top of Flair's nudity and gave a tinkling laugh.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Oh, Texas, what have I got us into?" cried Flair. Having forced the other woman's sexuality, her puritan
nature took over.

"Into some hot girl fucking," laughed Texas. She spread Flair's thighs and went for her muff and slit,
licking avidly at the spent juices, so warm and musky. As long as they'd started it was better to wallow
than dip.

Texas was the aggressor now as she sucked and tongued Flair's burning cunt. Flair lay there, legs
spread, hot mouth eating her cunt and felt astonished. She had merely been watching Texas comb her
hair shortly before and had wondered what a man would think, staring at the singer. She'd fooled
around a little and look at what they were into. But it was great fun to play with Texas Bunny's soft,
helpless body. To finger into her box, kiss her shapely breasts and suck on her weak, sensual mouth.
Texas was all woman. Now Texas was taking her.

Flair lifted her butt from the bed and fucked happily on the other's face. She gave herself thrills by
cupping her own breasts and releasing the heavenly fire of nipple stimulation. She felt pierced into her
being, almost as taken as if Phil's big, impossible prick grooved into her passage.

"Lovely, oh, lovely!" she sang, rising to peak.

"Go, you bitch," laughed Texas. Her small fox-like face was smeared with love juices as she peered over
Flair's belly. "You wanted the trip, now pay the price." Then she sucked hard again on Flair's cunt and
Flair went right up through the train roof.

"Oh, he, he, he heeeee!" she stormed, lifting again and feeling her body lock in exquisite pre-orgasm.
She hung there and quivered as her sex system got ready to deliver.

"Go!" she yipped.

Throb, throb, throb. Her cunt squeezed out flame and relief in one of her strong orgasms, her organ
convulsing much as she thought a prick must do when it exploded. She gave sobs of delight, relief and
pleasure as she gave up her own sex treasure to her pillaging lover. Again and again she threw off

convulsive, rich throbs of tribute to the hungry mouth that clung to her belly. Finally desire, relief and
pleasure ebbed, to leave her panting and glowing, fully taken.

"I guess we . . . did it," she said shyly to Texas Bunny.

Texas crawled up on her big body and laid on top of her again.

"How about one more time before we go back to the world of the normal," said Texas, as she teased
Flair by smearing her cunt-oiled cheeks on Flair's.

George Panther didn't deliver Vic's message to Maddy right away. Instead he went back to his
compartment to listen to Phil snore and tap his flask a little, but not too much. He kept thinking about the
beautiful set-up that only he knew about. Singleton had bought them four compartments right in a row. A
compartment, or bedroom, had two bunks, its own toilet that the railroad called "enclosed facility" and
plenty of room to move around in privacy. During the day the bunks made two quite adequate sofas to
lounge on. In the Singleton string, there was Maddy, all alone on one end, as befitted Vic's intended.
Next came Texas and Flair's. Flair didn't want to be alone, so she bunked in with Texas. Then came Phil
and George together, and finally Vic all alone in the fourth compartment, as befitted their bankroller.

So Maddy was all alone in her big private compartment, waiting for Vic to sneak in for some fun as he
had done last night. Except Vic wouldn't be coming tonight. George tried to imagine a way he could
entice Maddy to trade off. Maybe he could get her drunk . . . no, the nurse-athlete didn't drink. Maybe
he could appeal to her because he was eight years younger than Vic, but still a father figure. No, that
wouldn't work. What if he jollied her and kidded around? Some people like to cheat on their lovers,
get a little secret outside sex. Adultery was based on that. But he didn't think Maddy was the type and
even if she were, she wouldn't take chances on losing Vic before they were for Crissake even married.

It would make a great Mack Sennett comedy, but life wasn't show business, nor a comedy. It was just
dull. Still, he'd give a hundred dollars for ten minutes of hot sex with Maddy; it would brighten this whole
humdrum train trip for him.

A lot later he went out into the corridor and checked Vic's bedroom. Vic's door was locked, the guy
was bedded down for the night. He listened at the door of Texas and Flair's compartment, and he
thought he heard voices. It didn't matter. Once women took off their public clothes and makeup they
weren't likely to go parading around train corridors. Those ladies were also in for the night. Nor with the
singsong rumble of the train wheels on the track would they be able to hear anything that went on next
door at Maddy's.

George stood in the tight corridor on the swaying train for long moments before he knocked on Maddy's
door to deliver Vic's message that Vic wouldn't be coming. It must have been about ten o'clock but it
felt like one in the morning. Absolutely nobody was moving in this car, as far as he could see either way.

What would happen, he'd go in, deliver his message, make some dumb verbal pass, be refused and be
out and back in his own compartment in less than a minute. She might just open the door and peek out
and that would be all he got, a peek at a slice of her face and "goodnight".

Shit. Forget stolen sex. Knock on her door, deliver Vic's message and get it over with. His flask never
said "no" to him.

He tapped on Maddy's door. Nothing happened. He tapped again and waited but nothing happened.
He knew her door was not locked; it had to be open or Vic couldn't slip in. The railroad didn't hand out
keys.

He opened her door and peeked in. The dim night light was on. Maddy laid on top of her bunk waiting
for her lover, and she wore a sheer gown of silk that was mere gauze. He could see both her nipples
plainly through the filmy stuff.

She was fast asleep!

Heart pounding, George Panther slipped into her compartment and closed and locked the door.

Chapter 6

The train wheels clicked and the Pullman car rumbled while it swayed gently. George was all alone in a
locked compartment with sexy young Maddy. She continued to sleep without the slightest sign of being
aware anybody was in the room, her charms in that see-through negligee on bold display. Her skin was
incredibly white and fine; her figure incredibly good. George could see almost every detail of her two
ivory breasts, from the round bases up the exciting slopes to big aureoles and two succulent nipples. His
niece? Easy to forget that!

His eyes swept on down to her flat stomach and navel, to her trim abdomen and then the exciting part, a
thick bush of luxuriant black pubic hair that set off the pink of a small cunt that dazzled him. There was
the sweet slope of her thighs and the clever curves of her calves, her whole body on display for him.

As he sat down tentatively on the sofa the porter hadn't made up, his cock began to rise. He thought
Flair was as sexy a woman as he'd ever seen. Well, Maddy was Flair with an ivory skin instead of the
tan, and luxurious hair of black instead of gold.

"Oh, baby, you are built!" he informed himself in a murmur.

Just to feast his eyes on the girl's nudity almost paid off for the trip. Well, he certainly didn't have to leave
right away. She was asleep, apparently good for eight hours. Vic wouldn't be coming. His pulse was
fast, his breathing deep, and his cock was now stiff in his pants. He sometimes had problems with
hardons with his two dollar whores, but not here! It was more like Maddy Metcalf was a sexual sleeping
beauty.

He unbuttoned his pants and took out his cock. The train did not come to a screeching halt. Vic did not
break down the door with an axe and rush shouting at him. Maddy did not wake up and scream.
Nothing at all happened. The train rushed on through the night while the girl bounced sexily from the car
motion, loose as a doll and he sat there with his exposed cock rock hard and thrilling.

George felt better. He might make something of a sexual adventure of this after all. Staring at the luscious
body he jerked off until he dry-throbbed, unashamed and unconscious of his masturbation at his age.
He did it whenever he found it necessary or desirable.

But tonight it didn't make sense when there was luscious female flesh to touch. He took off his pants and
shorts and mounted Maddy's hips. She neither wakened nor moved except natural motions of sleep
and the bounce of the railroad car.

He laid back her robe exposing her nudity. Her breasts drew his hands like magnets. He cupped each
warm beauty and felt her unconscious response as the nipples rose to caress his palms.

"Oh, baby!" he thrilled.

She moved to make a brush-off gesture, so he quickly withdrew his hands. He lowered himself gently
until his hard, burning cock rested on the smooth ivory skin of her belly. He rocked, prick caught
between his belly and hers, feeling rushes of pure delight throughout his belly. Ah, this was more like it.

He got in about a dozen luscious strokes before she moved and frightened him into pulling up, his blade
now dry-throbbing furiously from contact with that silken, sleep-hot belly. He felt pretty wild now. He
risked spreading her legs, his heart pumping furiously. He made it on the second try.

"Great balls of fire, there it is, George!" he exulted.

Her pink cunt was totally open for prick play. But it was dry, of course. He'd wake her up if he plunged
in, and he'd wake her up if he diddled her to make her juices flow. A neat problem. He forged ahead
anyway, gently rubbing her warm cunt lips to see what could be done. He knew it was a losing game. By
the time he got her hot and got his cock in she'd be awake and he was dead. Vic would fire him, he'd
lose out with Phil and be put off the train at the next stop. Was one orgasm worth it?

Yet as he worked slowly and carefully his luck held. The warm little cunt in his hand grew slippery and
began to swell. Once or twice the girl softly moaned in her sleep and bucked a little on his fingers. He
guessed she was having sweet erotic dreams about now.

Suddenly his finger slipped all the way into her tight, body-hot vagina. She was all juiced up. He froze,
thrilling to feel her pink cunt tunnel velvety around his fingers, oiled and ready now. She murmured
groggily and half-opened her eyes. He gasped in fear and pulled his fingers out.

She moved a little but slept on. Then his eye fell on the small bottle by her bed. It was Phenobarbital, a
liquid sleeping medicine. He'd used enough of it himself to recognize it. It was powerful, prescription stuff
but easy for a nurse to get. He chuckled when he saw what had happened. Disappointed when Vic
didn't show up, the girl must've taken a sleeping shot to drift to sleep. It would take more than gentle
manipulation to waken her!

He was really on fire now. He had a good chance to get away with a fuck! He waited till she settled
once again into undisturbed sleep, his nerves high with desire. She could be had all the way.

This time he eased her belly up a little and positioned his prick for entry. Then he pressed it forward,
gently but firmly. His eager blade violated her outer cunt lips, found her notch. He gave a soft grunt of
happiness and oozed into her, the young vagina gripping his jong with oiled persistence. The friction was
fantastic!

"Oh, oh," he moaned in sublime pleasure. His wildest dream had been fulfilled. He had his stiff cock
fucked right inside Maddy Metcalf's belly! Their loins slid together as he buried his cock all the way up
into her. She bucked under him and murmured as if coming awake. He froze, hoping that she . . . .

Catastrophe!

The excitement had been too much for his tensed-up sex equipment. Just as he got ready for a gentle,
long sneak-fuck, his pleasure nerves overloaded. He was going to have to come and there was no way
to stop it. He groaned in disappointment and pleasure as he felt the great rise to inevitable ejaculation.

"S-sorry!" he gasped.

Spurt! He'd committed incest with his niece!

He shot off a great dart of liquid relief and joy inside of her cunt. Then he panicked. She was stirring
too much. He jerked back and out of her cunt, cock gleaming with her oils and spuming. He laid on the
outside of her creamy-smooth belly and let the rest of his seed spew out. His excitement in this
adventure had been so great that his jism shot clear up her body to her throat.

Spurt, spurt, spurt. "Ahhh."

As his shots lost force the strings didn't reach so high. For wild seconds he reveled in his hot throw,
jerking, spending, laying oily sperm down her cleavage and onto her belly. Then he was done, glowing
with good feeling of the after-fuck. Emptied.

But she was a mess. His overfull reservoirs had laid a river of sperm from her throat, between her
breasts, down her belly to her cunt. And she stirred and gurgled. "Wha'sisss!"

He pulled back off of her, sure she was going to wake up. But she didn't. She went back to sleep with
her sexy body gleaming with his trail of jism all the way down. He jumped up and used his pocket
handkerchief to clean her as best he could, then fled the compartment.

Safe in his own bed, he congratulated himself on his big adventure. He fulfilled his wild dream all the
way. He'd gotten his cock all the way up Maddy's cunt and even shot one lick against her womb wall.
But he wished now he'd finished inside of her. It wasn't quite as perfect as he'd hoped. But his emptied
groin felt great, and he slept . . . .

Only to awaken with a start and find his cock rock-hard again. Spilling that semen had only made him
eager for more. It was the old story. The more you got, the more you wanted.

George looked at his watch. He figured it must be near dawn. Holy Hackensack, no! It was only
twelve-thirty. It had only been two hours ago that he diddled Maddy. Time on the train really slowed
down. At this rate it would be five centuries till dawn.

So there she was, still in her drugged sleep, still naked. He could go back for more!

Oh, no, George. You dreamed of it; you got it. You told yourself that one good shot would make this
whole train trip happy. You've had your shot.

But it was a long way till dawn.

He tried to go back to sleep. He could not. His cock stayed hard his mind in imagining a second
successful visit to Maddy's heavenly compartment.

At last he rose groggily, took a nip of his flask, and staggered out into the corridor to finish the job he'd
botched so badly out of fright the first time. It was that or lie awake till dawn with regrets. He was a
knight in shining armor off to complete the unfinished business of his sexual conquest. Only his armor
was merely his shorts. This time he moved quickly, with determination. He went through the
compartment door without knocking and right to Maddy's bunk.

He'd turned off the light on that first trip, so her bed was dark. Must remember to leave it on so she
wouldn't be wise in the morning. She was still there, still naked, still sleeping.

Thrilling again, feeling much more confident, he mounted her body. He felt up her smooth body, the rib
cage, cupped her breasts. Oh, yes. Once again her nipples rose to his palms. Ahhh. He gently jigged
her cunt, getting her wet once more. She was still a little moist from his last trip; he knew that women
often stayed moist for some time after sex.

She stirred and moaned but he didn't worry this time. In her drugged sleep he should be able to take her.
If she cried out Vic's name, all he had to do was whisper as if he were Vic. Her addled mind wouldn't
know the difference.

There! She was nice and liquid, her velvety cunt sexy on his fingers but not nearly as sexy as it would
feel on his prick!

Once again he slanted her loins up a little, fitted his cock to her hole and shoved in past the outer cunt
lips to notch her passage.

"Uuuuuu," he cried softly in delight as his shaft oozed deep into her body, giving him wild thrills. "You are
a fuck," he murmured.

She stirred and bucked some in her drugged sleep.

"Easy, baby. Keep it quiet," he whispered. Then he began long, delicious, pleasure-crazing strokes in
and out of her cunt. She started to moan and gasp, flexing under him. His cock thrilled madly.

"Ah, uh," she went.

"Sleep, sleep," he crooned. "Just enjoy."

He slid over onto her body rocking his prick in and out of her cunt more and more boldly. He felt her
soft thighs quiver and clutch on his flanks as he began to breathe heavily. She was half-awake, but of
course she would think in the darkness that it was Vic. The friction really maddened him with pleasure
now. He risked the full hug of her body, kissing those stiff nipples, nibbling, palming as his fucking loins
drove faster and faster.

She was half awake now, grunting in pleasure, taking his fuck and responding groggily with murmurs and
sighs.

Heaven. Pure unalloyed heaven, rocking his cock deep into the belly of the luscious Maddy with the
resilient firm flesh, the creamy skin, the tight young cunt. He was miles away from his loose-jointed,
two-dollar whores. This was princess stuff.

The train rocked and swayed, adding to his sensuous pleasure, the plunging cock and cunt met and
parted sending streams of pleasure fire through all of his body. The girl gasped and writhed and he felt
powerful fires begin to consume his belly. There was nothing like plugging young flappers!

"Oh, baby, oh. I love this kind of train travel."

"Sooo sexxxxy!" she cried softly.

Even as he rose to ecstasy he felt a finger of caution. Maddy didn't sound drugged. Maddy was fucking
him as lusciously as he fucked her. Maddy was going on his trip! But she thought he was Vic, so he'd
better keep his mouth shut. Anyway, it hardly mattered because he'd entered the sublime plateau of
animal lust to where orgasm and relief were only seconds away. And how luscious was the sensation of
maddening pleasure on his shaft.

"Going . . . to go . . . ." he whispered.

The hot girl astonished him. At his words, as if they were a signal, she lifted her powerful loins under him,
grunted and began to give up her womanhood.

"Ah-huh!" she gasped. Throb, throb, throb. "Oh, Phil!"

Something disturbed him but he was too crazed with joy to worry about it as he felt those strong cunt
throbs that told he'd satisfied his partner and could explode in happiness.

"Here . . . goes!" he hissed in sublime pleasure.

As he froze for orgasm, clutching the voluptuous body, a light flashed on. A sleepy platinum crowned

head peered at him.

"Wha's going on!", asked Texas Bunny. "Whut you doin' to Flair?"

"Oh, Flair," said George. Then his heart gave a great leap.

"George!" screamed Flair. "Thought you were Phil!"

"Ah-gung," cried George. It was too, too late. He clutched Flair whose body so closely resembled
Maddy's, sang out his joy and burst. Nothing ever felt so good, hugging that delicious, tanned body and
pumping off his seed deep in her cunt. Spurt, spurt, spurt.

"Ooooo-ieeeooooeeee," sang George, getting an extra pleasure lift out of his natural mistake. He gushed
and gushed, shivering in ecstasy as he seeded the kid's body.

"Why are you fucking George!" asked a puzzled Texas Bunny of Flair.

Flair wanted to stop but the sensual pleasure was altogether too much. She grunted and lifted up to the
spuming cock inside of her and throbbed off more thrilled cunt spasms to the command of the male's
bursting orgasm.

"There's not a heck of a lot - ahh - I can do about it j-j-just now!" cried Flair, giving up her sex treasure
to the older man.

George finished in style. You learned that in show business. If you made a big mistake right up on the
stage in front of everybody the best thing to do was go right ahead like it was part of the show. Of
course he'd staggered into the wrong compartment in his groggy state and got the wrong girl, but then he
dreamed of pronging Vic's sexy daughter even longer than Maddy. And except for the skin and hair,
they were almost exactly the same in those voluptuous builds.

"Ah, baby," he murmured, hugging Flair as they both finished orgasms and fell off the tension to that
wonderful after-sex glow. "I been sleepwalking. Thought I was back in Dallas with my wonderful
Mildred." He'd never been in Dallas and never known a "Mildred" but an ad-lib was called for and a
quick-thinking showman had to come up with it.

"Mildred, hell," said Flair, eyes flashing as she struggled out from under him. "When I tell my Daddy you
raped me, you'll go right off this train to jail."

"Pig!" cried Texas Bunny.

George got up and grabbed his shorts. "Sorry . . . ."

The two women were really angry now.

"George Panther, you've ruined yourself," cried Flair. "Look at me, all filled with your stupid seed."

"Pervert!" said Texas.

But George had a sudden brainstorm. "Hey, Flair you were kinda moist when I mounted." He whirled,
grabbed Texas and felt in her crotch. Even through her nightie he could feel that her cunt was much too
soft and moist. It had seen action sometime in this night.

"Well, well," he grinned. "It looks like you girls have been at each other tonight. Does your daddy know
about that, Flair?"

There was a sudden silence in the compartment.

"Just get out of here, George," said Flair after too long a pause.

"Wou'd've thought it? His ex-mistress and his daughter, fucking each other's brains out. Probably been
going on for weeks."

Two pillows came flying in his direction as George laughed and retreated in triumph. He'd knocked off
both, Maddy and Flair in one night. His train trip was turned from a dismal flop to a sparkling smash hit
all in a few hours. There might even be more up ahead! Maddy didn't know she'd been had, and Flair
wouldn't dare tell. He'd hit a Babe Ruth banger over the right field fence!

He retrieved his flask and cuddled back happily into his bunk by the still snoring Phil.

"George," he told the flask as if it were himself, "You're the cat's pajamas. Or is it the Panther's
pajamas?"

Chapter 7

"Pay attention," said Phil.

He was lecturing Vic Singleton, George Panther, Maddy and Flair on endurance swimming in Vic's suite
in a Long Beach hotel. The ex-bootlegger was having a hard time learning about this strange world, but
with the announcement of the swim contestant to the papers and radio, Phil insisted that Vic as the
sponsor ought to know a little about swimming and endurance.

Phil pointed out that many land mammals besides man could swim, and in the case of fire or catastrophe
swim well indeed with no prior experience in the water. Sea mammals, of course, did the best. Whales
could swim for thousands of miles at good speeds. Seals could swim easily at five miles an hour and
reach up to twenty miles an hour if they were chasing their dinners. Porpoises had been known to keep
up with modern steamships, while a mammoth sea turtle had been clocked at twenty-two miles per hour.
Penguins could easily do ten miles an hour and go up to thirty in short bursts. Some had been found
more than a thousand miles from land, quite happy in the desert of the ocean.

Polar bears were great swimmers, well-insulated for their cold water environment and had been clocked
at six miles per hour, while a trained human swimmer would be lucky to do three for short bursts.

Tigers and elephants had been found swimming; the only way they could reach certain isolated islands in
the South Pacific or near Africa. Monkeys had been taught to swim for the inducement of food thrown
upon the water.

Small mammals were likewise capable of good swimming records. Rats had been kept swimming
steadily for fourteen hours, as well as woodchucks, chipmunks, skunks and possums in stints of six to
eight hours.

"I hope no skunks enter my race," laughed Vic.

"You'll get a few human ones," commented George.

Phil moved on to human swimmers. Slow in speed they could still last for many hours in the water. Most
challenging was the English Channel swim, first conquered by Matthew Webb in August of 1875 in the
time of twenty-one hours and forty five minutes. It was thirty-six years before anyone was able to
successfully swim the channel again. Several other men accomplished it, but Gertrude Ederle's recent
swim was not only the first female success, but she set a new time record of fourteen hours and forty

minutes, from France to the English coast and won her ticker tape parade, fame and money. The English
Channel distance was exactly twenty-two miles.

"But we have a twenty-two mile swim from Avalon to the California coast," said Phil "And no one has
officially done the Catalina straits at all. So the publicity, after the Ederle swim, is going to be enormous.
You, Vic, are going to have to know a little something about professional swimming. The newspapers
treat such swims as a kind of weird circus anyway, so a little reality coming from you will help the cause."

He then went into some of the factors that made for good endurance swimming. Protection from the cold
was important. That's why he thought Maddy had a good chance to win this show, because women's
bodies were better insulated than men's, with a fatty layer just under the skin. However, the Catalina
water, even in January, should not be a great problem. Buoyancy was a factor. Surprisingly the best
endurance swimmers hung low in the water. Surface swimming offered waves and currents to slow the
pace. Those who could swim deeper in the water did better, so a neutral or even negative buoyancy was
best. The power in swimming came from the arms and muscles in the upper torso, so the arms should
not be too long; a compact, symmetrical torso and arms in proportion was best.

Phil didn't believe that legs counted at all in long-distance swimming.

"The motion's wasted in up and down movement," he said. "It's like pumping a bicycle where most of the
effort is wasted in up and down motion, maybe ninety percent. I teach my swimmers to use the legs as
little as possible or not at all."

The rest was a matter of the individual's physique. Great oxygen intake, rapid sugar conversion for
energy, a slow heart rate from good conditioning, plus an iron will to win - these things made up the
pattern of a champion endurance swimmer. To this you could add training for the specific event and that
was the whole story.

"What about kinds of strokes?" asked George.

"I teach crawl," said Phil. "However, I long ago learned not to force an ideal stroke on a swimmer.
There is no ideal stroke, because bodies are different. I once saw a swimmer with a frenzied eighty or
ninety strokes a minute, hanging on top of the water and felt sure he was going to drown. He beat all my
well-trained students instead."

"I remember that," said Maddy as they all laughed.

"What kind of gear will Maddy need?" asked Vic.

"Not much," said Phil. "Endurance swimming is cheap. Nose clips if she wants, although most don't use
'em. Some ear protection against later infection, perhaps cotton with a little oil to combat water
penetration. A cap to cover the ears, certainly. It cuts down heat loss up to twenty percent. Lots of
swims are lost by the swimmer getting too cold; it's as simple as that. Goggles for the eyes, yes, in salt
water."

"And grease?" asked George, fantasizing the bodies of the girl swimmers glistening sexually.

"Probably," said Phil, "but you have the problem of a thin grease like Vaseline wearing off too quickly
and a thick one like lanolin being hard to apply. You only need a millimeter or so. If nothing else it gives
a psychological lift. Also it saves the friction points of the body from burns. Hours in the water and your
armpits, groin, shoulders and even chin begin to ache pretty badly. But no grease on the face or arms.
Grease on the face makes it impossible to keep the eyegoggles sealed, and on the arms gives you a loss
of the arm's biting power in the water. Greased arms allow slippage and loss of power.

"Now," he finished, "you already have learned more than ninety percent of your newspaper readers will
know about swimmers and swimming for records. Anything the reporters ask beyond that you can turn
over to me as technical consultant."

"What if they claim the swim is rigged because Maddy works for Vic, the promoter?" asked George.

"A swim is a swim is a swim," said Phil. "We'll have impartial judges. The first one in at Catalina and
out at Point Vicente is the best swimmer and it doesn't matter who she's related to, or works for. It's a
fair swim."

"I'm glad you said that," said Flair. "I'm going to swim, too. I'm going to hire my own trainer. And I'm
going to win, too."

Having dropped her bombshell, she gave Maddy and the others a dirty look and left the room while the
group stared after her in astonishment.

To Phil's sorrow the New Jersey group was broken up now. Flair's sudden decision to enter the swim
and compete against Maddy was only the latest blow.

"How can she do in this race?" George asked Phil.

"Flair's a helluva swimmer," said Phil. "With the right training and some luck she could give us a bad
time."

"How do you feel about Maddy now that she's . . . she's . . . ."

Phil felt his face set sternly. "I dreamed up this whole thing for Maddy to begin with," he said. "It makes
no difference to me that she's decided to marry Vic. I owe her a good winning swim and I'll give her my
best."

Secretly he felt quite hurt. He realized that he'd counted on the old intimacy but it was gone. He had
Maddy during the daytime but her nights belonged to Vic. Once the training started he began to scold
her for her night time activities.

"You're losing sleep, f-f-fooling around with your fiance too much," he complained. "How can I bring
you to top form when you dissipate my work each night?"

She merely gave him a cool, infuriating smile. "Look at my daily records. At this point in my training I'm
way ahead of where I was when you and I worked together before. Love makes the difference."

He could've killed her.

Flair disassociated herself from the group. She found her own trainer and paid him from her own funds.
When Phil complained to Vic he got practically no response.

"She has my guts," said Vic. "It's good for her to step out on her own."

"She could give us bad publicity."

"Maybe the public will go for my fiance and my daughter competing for the prize I give," said Vic
proudly.

They did. The newspaper and radio stations also began to build interest in the endurance swim because
it was open to all with no entrance fee, and the prizes were huge. Phil had had a fierce struggle with Vic
on that.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars to the winner!" roared Vic. "That's five times too much!"

"Twenty-five, fifteen and ten," insisted Phil. "A channel swim is already thought to be a nutty, useless
affair by most people. But nobody thinks twenty-five thousand dollars is silly, not even with Wall Street
booming."

In the end he won his point, and it was a wise decision. The newspapers and the public would ignore
some ego maniac making the swim to get his name in the papers. Or a small affair sponsored by some
athletic club for a minor prize was only of limited local interest. But these days a whole family could live
extremely well on twenty-five hundred dollars a year. A comfortable living for ten whole years was
important money. Invested properly it could last the winner almost indefinitely.

So the entries poured in, as interest mounted, and the publicity for the Vic Singleton Invitational Swim
grew across the nation and stimulated interest in foreign countries. Very soon a snowball effect carried
them along to the delight of Vic.

"We've got a legless newspaper vendor from San Francisco, and a seventy-year-old entry from
Nebraska," he told Phil. "One of the papers is going to start a daily column on us in December, and I'm
almost tired of seeing my name in print. Me, Vic Singleton, a nobody from Jersey City, New Jersey. I
got to hand it to you, Phillip."

But Phil could only answer with a dour "Thanks." For him it was afternoons in the training boat following
Maddy's daily swims, directing her conditioning on land, watching her diet and worrying, as he spent
lonely evenings alone in his hotel room. He was even deprived of the company of Texas Bunny who was
lost somewhere inland a few miles in the dusty streets of Hollywood, trying to advance her singing
career. Nights she had a job warbling in a small night club, so she didn't come around at all anymore.

By Thanksgiving he grew philosophical about it.

"Love and sex had crumbed up my life every time out," he told George.

"At least this time there's no chance to spoil things that way."

"Considering that it almost got you killed with Vic and now you're his fair-haired boy, I'd say it didn't
hurt you too much," George responded dryly. As Vic's main publicity man he found life quite interesting,
especially when certain female, nubile entrants sought his after-hours company with the mistaken idea
that they'd have a better chance if they could get close to an "insider."

The holidays came and went with Phil busy if not happy. He hardly noticed as the swim date of the
middle of January rushed towards him.

On the night before the race all the contestants were brought by boat from the mainland to the Avalon
settlement in Catalina. Hotels were filled; most camped in tents along the beach. There was a general
carnival air to the whole area, with the rising excitement about tomorrow's race. Although more than
three hundred people had entered during the long publicity build-up, the actual contestants were down to
about a hundred and fifty on the last night before the event. The coldness of the water accounted for
most of the dropouts, because in January the temperature ran between fifty-five to sixty-five degrees.

Vic Singleton's yacht had been brought around the canal from Atlantic City a couple of months earlier.
On this last night he gave a candlelight dinner party for a select few in the big dining room. His guests
included a sports editor, the head of the biggest radio station in the area, a motion picture mogul and
officials from the Long Beach and Los Angeles city councils. The guests enjoyed champagne and steak
as well as the presence of Flair, Maddy and Texas Bunny, whom Vic invited especially so she could

meet the movie mogul.

It was to be a truce for the night but of course Maddy and Flair who had to swim tomorrow could not
stay late.

After the dinner was over, Maddy, eyes shining, took Phil by the hand.

"Come to the stateroom," she begged. "I want you to see my wedding gown. It's the most gorgeous
creation I ever saw."

Phil had already seen her wedding gown. Flair had dragged him there when he first arrived. It was
indeed an expensive affair of white satin and veils, displayed on a dresser's dummy in the big bedroom.
To Phil it looked like enough cloth and train to cover three brides. Both the gown and the room left a
sour taste in his mouth. It was here that he'd first pronged Flair but it was also here that he'd seen Vic
screw the love of his life and change everything.

"Very fine," he murmured to Flair.

"What are you going to do about it!" cried Flair. "Right after the race that slut is going to marry my
father!"

What Phil did about it was haul off and slap Flair a resounding smack on the face. His nerves were
screwed up to the breaking point, but Maddy was no slut. He stalked back to the dinner, leaving Flair
shocked and in silence, glaring after him in rage.

Now with the dinner over, Maddy wanted him to see the dress for a second time and he had to go
because he couldn't admit he'd seen it already. On the night before a big race you humored your star
athlete. Flair sat with her father, head resting dreamily on his shoulder, monopolizing all his attention.
Texas Bunny was involved with the movie mogul, George was making eyes at the nubile wife of one of
the city officials, while the husband loaded on the champagne. Phil and Maddy slipped away.

The wedding dress was no more. In the short interval that the dinner had taken place, someone had
slipped into the bedroom and slashed it to threads. Long, useless pieces of satin fluttered from the
dressmaker's form and torn veils littered the floor.

Phil froze in shock. Maddy gave a gasp and then uttered a scream of rage. She plunged out of the room.
Phil recovered and rushed after her.

What happened next took place so fast that no one could stop it. A furious Maddy seized one of the
steak knives from the table, then jerked Flair up from her place at Vic's side.

"You bitch!" shrieked Maddy. She plunged the knife into Flair's middle. The knife hung there, quivering
while Flair gasped, her face going white and began to crumple. Maddy turned and sped out of the room,
tearing off her dress. Naked but for panties, she leaped to the boat rail as Phil followed her and
executed a dramatic dive into the water.

Phil cursed, stripped off shoes, pants and coat and went over the rail after her with considerable less
elegance than his idol, Doug Fairbanks. There were several boats moored at the landing rack. He
climbed into one and started off in hot pursuit of the swimming Maddy whose head was already
beginning to disappear in the murk.

Silence. Phil and Maddy rested alone in a tent along the Avalon shore. Phil had caught Maddy, brought
her out of the water but she didn't want to go back to the yacht. He found a friend who was glad to give
up his tent so that Phil could settle Maddy down. They had a long talk, the first time he'd been able to

speak to her out of Vic's shadow since she'd come back into his life. Some time passed.

Phil was anxious to know how badly Flair was hurt, but Maddy insisted that the steak knife wound was
slight. "It hardly went into her at all." Well, Phil couldn't be both places and he was sure that Vic and
George would do all that needed to be done to help Flair.

The rest of the time they talked about the old days, their hurts and small triumphs. Phil was delighted to
find that she had her doubts about marrying the older man. As he looked at her in all her beauty, her face
glowing in the soft, golden light of the kerosene lamp in the tent, he felt his cock begin to thicken. The old
desire to fuck her luscious, creamy body was as strong as ever.

He put his face close to hers.

"Maddy, are you sure you didn't destroy that gown yourself!"

"What!"

He kissed her on the mouth, thrilling to the soft lips, the sweet breath. She gasped in spite of herself.

"Cut it out!" she cried. "Why would I destroy my own wedding gown?"

"Part of you doesn't want to marry Vic. You're in too deep, can't admit it to the world." He felt under
her blanket, cupped a rich, naked breast, feeling the nipple respond at once, coming up hard against his
palm.

"Non-nonsense!" she cried softly. "Don't do that. I don't want sex. I hate all men!"

He desisted but his hard-on persisted. After a moment, he sneaked a hand under the blanket, this time to
cup her pelvis and touch her cunt, sexy in those almost-dry panties. For a second she opened her legs
with a groan of desire, but then closed them and shoved his hand away.

"No, Phil, I won't be seduced."

He thought she would. He thought she needed the relaxation of sex, then sleep on the night before the
big race. He felt a rising excitement. Here, at last, he was getting some of his own back, after dismal
months.

The tent flap opened. Flair came in, wearing only her one-piece bathing suit. She stared down at them. "I
didn't do it, Maddy."

"Flair!" Phil jumped up.

"No," she said, answering his anxious expression. "The knife didn't go in very far, Maddy. Not that it
feels too great, but it only needed a small bandage. Daddy's madder than hell, though. He wants to kick
us both out of the race for unsportsman-like conduct; torn dresses and flashing knives."

"He can't do that!" flashed Phil.

"He needs the excuse," said Flair. "There's been too much talk about a rigged race in favor of his
daughter or his fiance. Have you fucked yet?"

"What?!!" said Phil.

"Of all the nerve-" Maddy began.

But Flair reached into Phil's shorts and found his rock-hard cock which she brought out with a murmur.
"Just getting ready, I see."

And while both Phil and Maddy stared in horror, Flair bent her head and sucked Phil's stiff manhood
into her mouth. Phil gave an immediate groan of pleasure. He'd been sexed up for quite a while.

"Flair! What are you doing!" cried Maddy as she suddenly sat up so that the blanket fell back and her
naked breasts shone in the golden light. "You tore up my dress, now you come here and pull this vulgar
. . . ."

"I didn't tear it. Texas Bunny tore it. She's always been mad at you for grabbing Dad," said Flair
between sucks. "Anyway, I need Phil's prong. I need sex so I can relax and sleep, in case Daddy
reinstates us tomorrow."

"Don't do that in front of me!" cried Maddy, jumping up. "How dare you do that! Phil, stop her."

"She n-n-needs sex to reduce tension!" sang the happy Phil as Flair sucked deliciously on his shaft. "So
do y-you, as I was trying to tell you a minute ago!"

"You beasts!" cried Maddy.

"Come on, Maddy," said Flair. "You've been fucking the heels off my father for weeks - on the yacht,
the train, in hotels. You know what sex is all about, so why resent me and Phil having a little?"

With a cry of despair, Maddy grabbed her blanket and fled the tent.

She was gone exactly twenty seconds, not quite long enough for Phil to enjoy a couple of hot,
open-mouthed kisses, feel up Flair's gorgeous-breasts and mount her saddle.

"Phil, are you going to f-f-fuck that odious girl!" cried Maddy.

Phil stopped. "She says she needs the relaxation and relief from tension. "You don't."

"So do I," said Maddy. She stripped off her panties and stretched out next to Flair. "And you're my
trainer, not hers!"

That was the beginning of the best sex Phil ever had, in that modest tent under the golden light of the
kerosene lamp. Never again would he smell that kerosene smell again without remembering those two
luscious, naked girls, both voluptuous, both exquisitely built, both equally hot, both yearning for the
plunge of his rock-hard cock. In size, weight and richness, in their supple bodies and large, firm breasts,
they could've been sisters.

There was really no choice to make. Phil had hungered for his randy Maddy for too long. Quickly he
mounted her hips and violated her wet, swollen cunt with his eager cock, crying out in delight as he
targeted home in the hot, waxy tightness of her cunt.

"Oh, Maddy!"

"Oh, Phil!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said the third voice. It was Flair, who far from being angry, seemed delighted to
witness two other human beings in hot sex, a new thrill for her. She used her fingers between her legs to
good effect as Phil and Maddy grunted and groaned, rocked and keened, sucked and caressed, as if
they had to destroy each other's blazing, sex-hungry beings.

But Flair had no intention of missing out on the action. She noted as Phil hugged his sex partner his head
extended past the head of the girl getting cock-reamed. She sat behind Maddy's head and opened her
legs.

"As long as you're not doing anything much at this end, how about a little tongue?" she begged.

Phil gave a cry of delight and began to suck on Flair's cunt while he drummed his blade into Maddy's
writhing belly. Maddy protested but there was nothing she could do, pinned down by Phil's weight and
driven to glory by his big, thrusting prick. Maddy had been used to sex with Vic and while Vic was all
right in sex, he didn't have Phil's body, Phil's prick girth, or Phil's youth. In no time at all she completely
forgot about Flair as she went dizzy with the sizzling friction of crazed prick deep in her cunt. She
humped and panted and cooed like a silly girl on her first wild sex trip.

Flair could hear the meaty sound of male cock digging into female sheath, she could see the
stretched-out Maddy, alive with friction madness, shaking to her fabulous drilling . . . and she could
enjoy Phil's hot, sucking mouth and tongue on her box. The stimulation of watching two adult bodies
fuck while having her own parts taken soon lifted her to heights of glory. "Oh, my heavens, it's ta-tooo
much!" she cried.

Phil had the best of it. With his long-neglected prick flexing happily in his Maddy's belly, he could bury
his mouth in the rich wetness of Flair's pink cunt, find her clit and drill two women at once. Never had
male pride risen higher than to feel the sweet distress of the two females as they writhed and grunted,
pleasure-wracked and helpless under his double assault. He thrilled over and over, driving, driving,
driving, lost to the world, living in the high exultation of mastering two gorgeous females at once. He
went on and on.

It was Flair who gave up her sex treasure first. The lascivious orgy was just too much for her
inexperienced soul. She felt the ineffable, sweet culmination rush at her. Her eyes went big, her mouth fell
open, she grabbed Phil's head, froze and delivered her cunt throbs with rich cries of "Oh, oh, oh, I'm
fuckedddd!"

Legs wrapped around Phil's back, cunt driven to ecstasy of feeling, Maddy heard Flair's desperate cries
of joy and succumbed to Phil's ravaging prick.

"I have - to - oh, God, I have to goooo!" she sang.

Throb, throb, throb. She locked on Phil, went paralyzed and opened her belly in female submission, her
cunt squeezing powerfully on Phil's shaft as she lost her womanhood to the white-hot blaze in her cunt.
"Ahhh!"

It was the double orgasms, the feel of two hot, helpless cunts expiring one after the other that raised Phil
to the peak of his own lust passion. With Flair done and panting in relief, with Maddy finished, he cried
out his sex warrior's triumph.

"You're both fuckeddd! and I'm gone!"

His body tensed in an incredible locking of muscle, nerve and gland. There was a glorious,
unforgettable paralysis of bliss before the deluge. Then his cock let go to explode inside the cunt of the
girl he'd always wanted so badly. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Giving animal grunts he seeded her with massive
relief and exulting shots of jism. "Yeee," he cried as he spent and spent in total fulfillment of his sexual
power. As he spurted in glory, Maddy throbbed some more and he floated away into sublime spheres of
ultimate consummation, realizing his manhood in mind, body and soul.

When Phil woke up the next morning the girls were gone. So, he discovered, when he emerged from the
tent, were all the contestants! The beach was bare of everything but tourists.

"Oh, they moved the start of the race up to the Isthmus," a man told him. "Old Singleton knows it's only
eighteen miles across at that point, so everybody has a better chance."

Phil arrived at the Isthmus boat-hitchiking, minutes before the start of the race. The scene was chaos
with the final hundred or so swimmers standing just short of the water, waiting for the starting gun.
Spectators on shore and on boats leaned forward anxiously.

The starting gun sounded and a hundred or so eager marathoners dived, ran, splashed or walked into the
water. Among the number were some world-famous, highly trained swimmers. These few immediately
stroked ahead of the field and disappeared. Even as the roar from the crowd and the blasting boat horns
began to fade it was easy to see that the vast horde were only there for the fun. The sun was out, but the
water close to shore was fifty-five degrees and only sixty-four in the middle of the San Pedro channel.

There were plenty of volunteer boats to pace the swimmers as well as the boats of the judges. Vic didn't
want anybody to drown in his extravaganza.

Phil found Vic at the starter's booth.

"What about the girls?" he asked.

"I'm letting 'em swim, but they have a handicap. They have to wait for an hour after the start to go in the
water."

That was fatal. With strong male champions out there, the girls could never catch up.

"You prick!" said Phil.

Vic put his head close to Phil. "No, you're the prick! You fucked my girl last night. I'm through with you,
always screwing my women. You're fired, Griffin!"

Later Phil paced Maddy in the water, ready with hot broth and encouragement as he followed in a boat.
He didn't blame her for trying. To train and then not to swim would be too much. She gave up after
four hours, because the leaders were too far ahead and her heart wasn't in it.

A while later they saw Flair picked up by her handler's boat. She waved to them, they waved back. Phil,
saw the look on Maddy's face and understood then that she felt guilty about knifing Flair and ending
Flair's chances. Maddy wouldn't have swum her best anyway.

Phil asked her about the situation with Vic after last night.

She said she didn't know. Vic still wanted her; she wasn't sure.

She wanted to take a month and think it over.

"I'll visit my folks in San Diego. I want to get away from everybody, Phil, including you."

Phil was suddenly sick of the whole thing, and of Vic, Flair, Texas, George and even Maddy. He was
angry that Vic had shortened the swim. In sum he'd wasted better than two years and gummed himself
up with too much sex at the wrong time as usual. What he needed most of all was a new career start.
Once he reached land he was through with this crowd. Even if Vic hadn't fired him, he'd have quit.

The winner of the race was a penniless Canadian teenager, George Young, who confounded everyone

by beating several world champions. He collected the twenty-five thousand, lots of publicity, and some
stage appearances, the hero of the hour. A poor, widow mother back home added to the magnificence
of his triumph. His time was fifteen hours and forty-five minutes, a beautiful swim for the record books.

Chapter 8

New York, the Hippodrome Theatre, 1935. Billy rose, the pint-sized showman with the personality,
energy and charm of a six footer, was in a pet.

"We got to open Jumbo in two weeks!" he cried to his staff. "Now you tell me my best comic diver has
a sprained back and can't work for a month! So what do we put in that big tank under the stage?"

"We're trying to get a replacement, Mr. Rose," an assistant placated him.

"Wait a minute," said Rose. "That sleazy guy who got me the Austin Sisters. What was his name?
George, yes, George Panther. Find him. I remember he mumbled about some mug he knew who was
doing a water show over at the college in Princeton. Find Panther for me."

While a member of the staff hastened to the card file, Billy Rose ruminated aloud. "Funny thing about
Broadway. A spiffy guy in a high hat and spats sells me an act and it turns out to be a mangy dog show.
On the other hand a guy who looks like he slides around corners and steals leavings at the Automat
hands me an act that sings with class. Who can figure it?"

The staff remembered the cheap-looking agent who camped on Billy's tail with trying to promote a
singing trio, the Austin Sisters. When Billy finally gave the guy a tumble and saw the act, it was classy
enough to win a big spot in Jumbo. Everybody loved the Austin Sisters and so would the audience.

"Oh, yeah," said George when Billy got him on the phone. "I know this guy, he puts on water shows at
colleges across the country. Raises money for swim sports. He's a real pro. Better in the water than on
dry land."

"But can he dive forty feet into that tank on the stage of the Hippodrome and make it look funny?"

"If the price is right," said George, "he can scare 'em white and then make 'em red-faced with laughter."

"Get him," ordered Rose. "What's his name?"

"Phil Griffin."

"We'll look at him this afternoon at three," said Billy and hung up.

George hadn't seen Phil for eight years. He got a letter once in a while and cards at Christmas, but that
was about it. When Phil came to his hotel room, George was glad to note that he looked as sleek and
young as ever, though he was in his mid-thirties. He told Phil about Billy Rose, after they'd exchanged
the shy greetings that were inevitable after a large gap in time.

"This Billy Rose is some kind of a genius," said George. "Started out as a hot shot shorthand and typing
whiz, giving demonstrations for the companies. Set world records that way. During the war he was
secretary to Bernard Baruch and other big shots in Washington, and then in the twenties he became a tin
pan alley songwriter. He ran up a couple of big hits and went into the night club business."

"Oh, yes," said Phil, settling down with the bottle of beer George had offered. It still seemed strange to
be able to drink right out in the open. "Isn't he the guy that's married to Fanny Brice, the comedienne?"

"Right, only don't push that at him. It burns him up that people call him Mr. Fanny Brice. So he's decided
to make a big splash on Broadway at the Hippodrome with this show Jumbo. Make his name. It's got
everything. A book by Hecht and MacArthur, songs by Rodgers and Hart, Paul Whiteman's orchestra,
and everything class. Jock Whitney and his sisters are bankrolling it. It's a combination musical comedy
and circus, with elephants and Jimmy Durante as star."

Phil looked around George's cheap room and wondered whether even after eight years he could trust
George Panther again. He'd never forget Atlantic City and Catalina.

"Sounds pretty big."

"It's fantastic, Phil! His idea is that he's got the big three ingredients that pull people into the theatre; love,
comedy, and death. Death-defying circus stunts, you know. For the comedy they've got clowns and
stuff but for the big tank onstage he wants a comic diving act. Listen, I can get you two hundred a week
if you'll let me be your agent. Rose wants to beat the "Mr. Brice" tag, so he pays big."

Phil sighed. The whole thing sounded unrealistic. But he'd finished his stint at Princeton and made the trip
all the way over. Two hundred a week in these depression times sounded incredible, though.

"Maybe I could audition," Phil said. "Are you sure about the money?"

"Whitney's loaded," said George. "Come on. We're meeting Rose at three."

Just like that . . . after eight years. A phone call, a trip across the river, and here he was mixed up with
George Panther once again.

Phil stood on the stage of the Hippodrome, looked at the tank that was revealed when the stage floor
was retracted, looked up at the ladder and platform forty feet above. George sat nervously on the stage
apron.

Billy Rose, his directors and some assistants sat out in the audience.

"Give us two or three jumps, if you will," Billy cried.

To everyone's astonishment, Phil removed his clothes. But as always he had a bathing suit on instead of
shorts. He hadn't changed that habit in years. Then he bounced up the ladder, did a very quick half
gainer, making it sloppy to look funny. Once again he felt the thrill of the leap and the rush of wind past
his ears as he plummeted down. But he'd done this sort of thing so long that his body responded
automatically. He emerged and did two more jumps without a pause.

The group in the audience applauded.

"We'll hire you, Mr. Griffin," said Rose. "You're very good."

One of his assistants murmured that the diver wanted the fierce sum of two hundred a week.

Billy Rose grinned. "You couldn't get me to do those jumps for a thousand a week. Hire him. He's a
class act."

Phil met the Austin Sisters at the rehearsal next day. They were gorgeous looking in long, white clinging
gowns and they sang in beautiful harmony. Afterwards George took Phil over to them, and Phil noticed
as they approached that there was a platinum blonde, a golden blonde and a brunette.

"My God!" he cried. "Texas . . . Maddy . . . Flair!"

The three women were as startled as Phil. Although Texas was past thirty-five she looked as slim and
sexy as ever. Maddy and Flair in their late twenties were at the peak of their beauty.

"Phil . . . Oh, Phil . . . Hi, Phil . . . ."

The three were as shy as he was. Long years had passed since they had last met. In the confusion and
bustle of the rehearsal there was no time to talk but there were murmurs about getting together later.

However, it was George alone who brought Phil up to date later in Phil's hotel room. Phil had taken a
place in the same hotel because it was inexpensive and there was no reason to waste money on luxurious
quarters. This way he could save a lot from his salary. George told Phil that the girls worked well
together, that they were his best act and got a lot of appearances on radio and with big bands. They
even had some records out that sold well. No, Maddy had never married Vic. Vic Singleton owned
some radio stations out West, and the Austin Sisters always had free time on the air when they were out
there. Vic had never married either. Then he wanted to know about Phil.

Phil's story was simple. Water shows had been popular ever since Cleopatra floated down the Nile with
nothing on her luscious body but an asp clasped to her wrist. Phil moved across the country to various
colleges and universities putting on shows with the local students to raise money, sometimes for sports
programs, sometimes for the schools themselves. He had a small company and didn't make much
money, but it kept him active in the water world that he liked. He too had never married.

"And I take it easy on sex, George. I don't get myself in tangles the way I used to."

"Wish I could get into tangles. My three beautiful broads drive me crazy, but they won't put out."

Phil found that the old ache was there, the desire for Maddy, and, to his surprise for the bold Flair,
almost as strongly. But when he approached Maddy for dates, she turned him down.

"We could've been great, Phil. But you're too wild, like the time in the tent with Flair. You'll bed any
woman when your lust is up."

Nor could he get anything going with Flair. She said she'd given up "the wild ways of her youth" as if she
were somehow old and gray!

Still, just being in Jumbo was lots of fun. The show opened with fanfares and Paul Whiteman appeared
on a white stallion followed by his band, resplendent in blue and gold uniforms, music crashing. Then
came a fantastic circus parade, complete with clowns, wild animals and the title figure of the show, the
elephant Jumbo, with the human star, Jimmy Durante.

A cannon boomed. A young girl shot from its mouth. There was no net to catch her. As the audience
gasped, her partner, from the sidelines, jumped forward to make the catch and save her life. A woman
performer slid from the top balcony three hundred feet to the stage on a taut wire, hanging by her teeth.
Another daredevil group did aerial stunts on a tiny plane that zipped around a recessed dome, high up.

In another set, a high wire artist did somersaults on a wire, as the spotlight gradually revealed that he
worked above a cageful of snarling jungle cats. At the end he swung down into the cage . . . then ran to
a safety door among the animals while the crowd screamed.

Besides the thrills there was music, including the Austin Sisters, comedy, including Phil's act and
spectacles with Rose's specialty, fabulous showgirls. In a wedding scene forty beauties in white satin
rode forty white horses, also arrayed in white. They were escorted by forty muscular boys in black tights
riding black horses. A "bride and groom" descended from the ceiling amidst fluttering petals and

surrounded by white doves.

Phil found that it was almost as much fun to watch the audience's reactions to the thrills, comedy and
beauty spectacles as it was to be in the show.

The show opened, the crowds came, the cast settled down, and Phil judged that Billy Rose would no
longer be thought of as "Mr. Fanny Brice."

After midnight is the true evening for show business people. The excitement of the performance must be
overcome before sleep can be enticed. One post-midnight evening Phil sat in his room planning new
water show engagements after Jumbo was finished. There was a shy knock on his door.

He opened it to find Texas Bunny Long before him. She was alone except for a bottle of champagne she
carried in her arms.

"Oh, Texas." He admitted her.

"I hope you don't mind, Phil. I have a career decision to make and I need somebody with an objective
mind to talk to."

He felt immediate excitement. Her face had a serious, businesslike look, but her dress suggested other
things. A tight-fitting black rayon outfit clung to her body. And the champagne in her arms hinted at
perhaps some pleasure.

His lust rose at once. Whenever he saw Texas his cock thickened as he imagined fucking that loose
flesh, soft and silky, off her bones. As they set the champagne in ice he caught a flash of her rounded,
sexy ass and wondered if she still . . . .

"I have offers to leave the act and go single as a singer with a band," she said. She went on to explain
that she was a better singer than either Flair or Maddy and she felt she'd devoted enough time to the
sister act.

She explained that the "Austin Sisters" took their name from the Texas city, but she was ready to go
back to being Texas Bunny once more.

Phil had already made his decision. He seized her and hugged her, digging his hands into the yielding
flesh of her remarkable rear. He kissed her and felt his prick thick and hard against their bellies.

"Why don't we . . . have some fun . . . relax . . . before we talk about careers," he breathed in her pink
ear.

Her loins thrust against his, undulating, thrilling his stiff cock. The soft brown eyes were hungry. "A good
idea," she whispered in her gentle voice. In seconds his tongue was halfway down her throat reveling in
the sweet honey hotness and he kneaded those glorious buttocks as he jacked off between their bellies.

There was a knock on the door. They broke apart, gasping.

"Flair, maybe Maddy," she cried softly. "Don't want 'em to catch me here."

Before he could react, she'd grabbed her champagne bottle and dashed into his closet.

It was not Flair or Maddy at his door. It was George Panther with a champagne bottle in his arms and a
sad look on his face.

"Phil, I've got to talk to you. Serious problems. I happened to have this bottle. Can we talk?"

Phil was about to cut him off, but George really looked sad, and didn't even notice the tent in Phil's
pants, his sex blush nor the ice bucket for Bunny's champagne. Besides, Phil had all night. Nonchalantly
he tossed George's bottle into the bucket, sprawled on his bed and said, "Okay, shoot."

George complained that he feared the Austin Sisters were going to break up after Jumbo. Maddy and
Flair were mad at Texas Bunny. She never tried new things. They thought they could be better off as a
duo.

Delighted to know that Texas heard all this from his closet, Phil pointed out that George might double his
income as agent for Texas as a single and the two girls as a team. George gloomed that more likely
they'd all drop him for new agents.

"They're gonna desert me!" cried George. "Here I've built 'em big and never even got any sex from them,
except once a little bit. They hate me."

It was a night when Phil felt high and reckless. He suggested that maybe George just never found out
what kind of sex the girls liked. What did George think of Texas Bunny?

"That one I'd like to diddle most of all!" cried George. "She has the sexiest ass that ever walked down
Broadway."

"So why don't you suggest anal intercourse."

"Cornholing?" George's eyes got big. "She'd kill me! How could I suggest such a perverted thing to a
classy girl like that?"

He went on rhapsodizing about Texas, her charms and her sexy rear.

Delighted, Phil kept his eye on the closet where the door was ajar. Slowly, slowly it opened wider and
wider as George talked. Finally Texas stepped out into the room, holding her bottle of champagne.
Otherwise she was totally naked.

"Well, now," she said in her soft voice, "maybe you haven't asked the right questions, George, as Phil
suggested."

George froze in horror. Phil laughed and said that maybe it was time for them to put the two champagne
bottles together.

It was, thought Phil, going to be very tricky but also very rewarding. When he and George had
stripped, Phil got on his back on the bed. At his direction, Bunny mounted his hips. He spread his legs
really wide and offered his stiff jong to the girl. Tongue curling, eyes glowing the brown-eyed blonde
slowly impaled herself on his blade, both of them gasping as he violated her wet, ready cunt.

"Now then, George," laughed Phil. "When we get going take hold of her hips, find her second hole and
live a little!"

George was beside himself with excitement, his smaller cock as hard as Phil's.

"Holy Magruder, this is the banner night in my life!" he cried.

Phil recalled that he'd been sucked by Texas Bunny, that he'd buggered her luscious back hole but that
he'd never plundered her pink little cunt. So why not let George have the back seat on this ride?

"Oh, Phil!" thrilled Bunny, oozing down on his shaft.

"Ah, God, a cunt like a kid's," he mooned, thrusting up to take her entire vagina. Because of the size of
his prick and the tightness of her small cunt, the friction was delicious. Once again, he felt that extra
pleasure of that flesh, a little loose on her bones. She was just as sexy as eight years ago. He pumped for
glory.

"Ahhhh, heaven!" cried Bunny, matching his thrust with hers. They literally flew into a hot fuck.

"Hey, wait for me!" yipped George, trying to control the leaping loins as they flexed.

They laughed and stopped the action so George could come aboard. George found plenty of juices in
Bunny's crotch to oil his blade. Then with trembling fingers he parted her rich buttocks and found her ass
pucker a couple of inches above her cunt, well filled with Phil's cock, already gleaming with musky cunt
oils. The three made some shifts until George had his prick placed at a good angle for Bunny's asshole.
"Now," he muttered and shoved.

The mingled pain and pleasure made Bunny yowl and tighten her buttocks as the second prick violated
her sphincter and eased inside of her intestine.

"Bless the Greek gods, I don't think I can stand this!" she sang happily as her second hole filled. She had
trained her asshole well enough so as to permit rear entry, but she'd never had a double filling like this.
The exquisite pressure on her cunt was matched with even more fabulous pressure on her tender, slick
gut membranes.

"Uh, uh, uh," she went as George inched his cock deep into her loin mass. The partition that separated
her cunt channel from her rear was stretched gossamer thin between the invading blades. Phil fucked,
George moved and Bunny screamed, "Don't move! I'll die! Oh!"

Yet as the men shifted and her sphincter sullenly retracted she began to feel incredible, hot flames
consume her belly and her ass.

"Ah, oh, I'm so fucked!" she blatted happily. The two pricks had a seesaw lock on her parts now as
both Phil and George began to move in and out to service her holes. She quivered, sang and moaned her
ecstatic joy. The two men moaned in satisfaction as they felt the silken, hot and maddening friction and
listened to her gasps and felt her little body jerks as if she feared being torn open.

"Oh, this is crazy, good, feels divine!" she cried. It was okay now. She could even move herself, though
carefully, and take cock plunges from both men. "Hooooo," she sang in deep gut violation pleasure.

Vaguely she was aware of Phil reaming her mouth with his tongue, sucking off kisses and stroking and
setting her nipples on fire as he fucked her. George licked and caressed her satiny back, murmuring. But
mostly she felt unbelievable, deep fire from her navel to her knees as the two hungry male cocks
devoured her holes. The sensation was so fabulous that she lost all control of herself and bucked and
rocked at the will of the men, crazed to a purple glory of front and rear fuck-friction. It was too good to
last long, yet a century of joy.

"Haaaayeeee," she went and felt the fury of her orgasm rush at her, then screamed and came, cunt
throbbing, sphincter servicing George's prick, cunt locked and squeezing on Phil's. Throb, throb, throb.
She gave up her womanhood in searing yet furious pleasure. A double fuck like this could just not last
long.

The throbbing sphincter broke George's jism seal. Too long he'd hungered to shove his prick into
Bunny's body. He gave a happy grunt and spurted leaping seed deep, deep up into Bunny's ass as she
still throbbed in joy.

Phil now felt a double orgasm. There was Bunny's cunt clipping on his pleasure-crazed shaft and through
the membrane he vaguely felt George's cock pump jism streams into the girl's gut. Phil's cock had great
endurance, but this was just too much.

"Oh, boys and girls!" he cried. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Deep belly streams of sperm shot up his shaft into
Bunny's taken belly as he spent out his manhood in fantastic relief and singing joy.

There was a knock on the door which they were all too busy to answer. Then it flung open and Maddy
Metcalf entered, champagne bottle in her hand.

"Phil, I was just thinking . . . ." Then she saw the lewd display on the bed and screamed and Phil knew
he'd ruined things one more time.

Chapter 9

Billy Rose introduced the first aquacade to the American public at the Cleveland Fair in 1937. Nothing
quite like it had ever been seen before. The moon, the stars and the sky served as an overhead setting
for his ten thousand seat amphitheatre, with the waters of Lake Erie as a stage, or part of the stage.

A water curtain of dancing fumes, colored by lights served as a curtain. When it was turned off the
audience saw a long line of performers clad in white, skin-tight bathing suits, well over a hundred of
them. Slowly they peeled off into the water in majestic domino fashion.

Early in the show Eleanor Holm appeared in high heels, wearing a sequined swimming suit and royal
cape to match. In seconds she was in the ice cold water showing her world famous backstroke, spurred
in her efforts as the cast knew, but the public didn't, by little schools of minnows that sometimes got
stuck in her suit. Not that the beautiful swimmer, later to become Mrs. Billy Rose, needed extra help in
speed swimming. She was a 1932 Olympic champion. Johnny Weissmuller, an Olympic swimming
champion of earlier years, made the hearts of the women in the audience beat faster before he went on
to a second career as the film hero, Tarzan.

Serious and comic diving and figure swimming by specialty acts and a chorus of champion swimmers
held the audience spellbound. Barges manipulated an actual stage more than three hundred feet wide and
about sixty feet deep when it was necessary to cover the pool for music and dancing. Best of all, the
prices for seats in this spectacular ranged from forty cents to ninety nine cents. Billy Rose had mastered
the technique of serving brilliant spectacles to the masses at prices they could afford in depression times.
From Jumbo in 1935, he'd gone to the fabulous Casa Manana show at Ft. Worth in the Texas
Centennial Fair in 1936 which won him the Cleveland assignment and opened the door to still greater
triumphs to come. The Cleveland show was both a milestone and an unforgettable innovation in the
history of show business.

The Austin Sisters barely made the cast by virtue of the fact they were both beautiful and could swim
elegantly. Without Texas Bunny, their singing was strictly of the show business average variety.

Phil came in off the road to try out for the big extravaganza, and looked up both Maddy and Flair. The
two young women gave him the distinct cold shoulder, so he left Cleveland without even an audition.

After the show, George and the two girls headed for Buffalo where Flair's father, Vic, had recently
bought a radio station. The West had not agreed with the New Jersey ex-bootlegger. "Not enough
people," he groused. "Not enough audience for a real radio station." His goal was to buy into the New
York market, but so far Buffalo was as close as he could get. While the girls rested in Vic's Buffalo
home, George went to see his old friend.

"You can forget the Austin Sisters," said Vic. "They ain't going anywhere. Not without Bunny."

"She hasn't exactly burned up the majors either," said George. "Neither has Phil Griffin. We're all just
treading water, you ask me."

"Forget Griffin," said Vic. "What those girls need is marriage, good husbands. Maddy's thirty-two, for
Christ's sake, and Flair's thirty-one."

"They still look like eighteen," said George.

"Still young and hot," nodded Vic. "That's why I told Flair and Maddy they had to get married while
they've still got it. We need to get married, too. This show business is a killer."

George's eyes gleamed. "What did you have in mind, Vic?"

"Flair for you and Maddy for me," said Vic. "We can pop up to Niagara Falls and tie the knot, as
Winchell says."

"Holy Christ!"

"Listen, we need sexy young wives and those two kids are spinning their paddles. So let's get the act
together. I told the two of 'em yesterday. We should've done it ten years ago, like I was going to marry
Maddy at Catalina."

George glowed all over. "They'd never hold still for it, but . . . ."

"Sure they will. A woman gets sick of all the one-night stands, cheap hotel rooms and loneliness. Not to
mention smart aleck young guys. They need mature men with a few bucks in the bank. Like you and me."

Maddy came awake feeling a hot mouth covering hers. As she sleepily kissed back, dreaming it was
Phil, a wet tongue snaked into her mouth. Her nipples were caressed, starting fires, and she felt
warmth, smooth, moist skin.

Then she came awake to find Flair nibbling along her jaw. Flair was naked and had pulled open the robe
Maddy slept in.

"Oh, cut it out, Flair," said Maddy. "We've done that too often in too many hotel rooms."

"Better than nothing." A pink tongue teased, thrilled her ear.

"Not much."

She put her hands on the sweet slope of Flair's back and caressed down the flesh, her fingers pleased by
the muscles and the yielding softness.

She knew she'd get aroused. She and Flair would have each other. They'd each feel loved and sexual
tension would be relieved. Yet as she dreamily stared at the sunshine coming through the window she
realized this was the first time in a year they'd slept in a real house. At home, even if it was just Vic and a
couple of servants. As Vic said yesterday when he brought up marriage, the road was a killer. There
were night club patrons that wanted to toss you for a one-night stand. Besides that there were only
musicians, who had their booze and their reefers and who were always broke. You died wanting guys.
So it was only natural, even if perverted, to crawl in bed with your best buddy, even if she were female,
and hold somebody who cared and have somebody who cared hold you. Once in a while, not too often,
she and Flair slipped into pussy love.

Almost absently she bucked her loins as Flair dug fingers into her cunt and made her hot oils run. Flair's
belly kisses skittered some excitement across her flesh, but really now.

"I've got something new," murmured Flair.

"You've always got something new," said Maddy. "Single dildoes, double dildoes. Fingers poking rear
holes, cunt balls, feathers, candles."

"This is different."

"Bring me something called "cock" with a real, loving man attached, Flair."

"You want to marry my father, again?" murmured Flair.

"He's terrific," said Maddy with a rush of deep feeling. "But I guess you couldn't stand George."

"Sure I could stand George," said Flair. "Why not? He fucked me once on a train, and it wasn't too bad.
He loves me - us. He'd go crazy being faithful and he has a few bucks, too. Don't let those sleazy looks
fool you."

Maddy could believe Flair. Flair never reacted like other people. She could probably marry George and
be happy. And she? With Vic? Why not?

"You've still got it for Phil," said Flair.

Maddy frowned. She began to buck her belly real fast. "Do me! Do me!"

Flair laughed and began to suck her cunt. Maddy lifted up and groaned in pleasure, going hot and wet.
Flair caressed her big breasts and Maddy got hotter. She was into it now, wanting the breathtaking
surge of orgasm. Then Flair eased up and straddled her head so she could eat Flair's cunt. As Maddy
dug her tongue, her mouth into the soft, wet chamber she thought of Phil, his strong body, his big,
powerful prick-stick, loaded with liquid flames. Oh, Phil, Phil, she thought gobbling Flair's clit, making
the big blonde moan. Flair meanwhile kneaded her own breasts with the swollen nipples and rose to
peak.

They were both close to orgasm now. Maddy knew Flair's next move was to lie back down on
Maddy's body while they stroked pelvises and cunts to glory, hugging.

Flair rose. "Here comes the new thrill," she warned. "Ready?"

"Whatever it is," said Maddy.

Flair spread her legs, her crotch over Maddy's high breasts. The stream of piss started slowly and then
began to gush, golden liquid spraying on Maddy's tits, her cleavage.

Flair thrilled to ecstasy to release her urine stream on Maddy's lovely body. She could see, and hear, the
bubbling stuff strike the silken flesh, spread, body-warm, on Maddy.

"Oh, my God!" Maddy's eyes went big, her whole being frozen in shock.

"T-told you it was new!" cried Flair.

Squatting she slowly worked down Maddy's body, decorating her with the streaming girl piss, feeling the
thrill of her emptying bladder, letting everything go against all the wise rules of mankind. Down over the
belly, the abdomen.

"Almost there!" gasped Flair, wild-eyed. The act of pissing just about made her come. Maddy's body
was a blanket of urine now, golden and shiny. "Ahhhhh!"

The last squirts shot onto Maddy's dark pubic hair and cascaded down over her oil-wet cunt. Flair was
empty. She stared down at Maddy with hotly gleaming eyes.

At first the body-hot stuff shocked Maddy to stillness. She felt the sting of the piss, smelled the smell.
Suddenly she wanted the whole humiliating experience, to feel Flair's bladder completely emptied on her
nudity. She gasped as if she'd dived into a pool. It was the ultimate outrage.

Flair gave a cry of delight, fell on top of Maddy's body and hugged her, the pee serving as a hot
stimulant between their bodies. Flair's cunt rocked on Maddy's. Maddy surged up, crazed with the freak
sex act for the moment. The girls clung together, wallowing in Flair's piss, rising in perverted ecstasy to
orgasm. Then they both broke.

"Ahhhhh." Throb, throb, throb, went Flair.

Maddy's cunt expired with ecstatic squeezes as she reveled in the tight body lock and the unspeakable
fluid that sealed them together. She worked off her spasms crying animal grunts. Then everything faded
into the sweet afterglow of sex.

Then Flair rolled off of her and laid back, her face shocked, her big luscious body smeared with her own
piss.

"Jesus, what have I done?" wailed Flair.

Maddy got up slowly, inevitably. "Ruined your father's bedclothes and maybe a mattress," she said.
"Also you've reached the limit, Flair. Ended it, once and forever. We won't have sex again. The next
stop would be the nuthouse."

She walked to the door, heading for the bathroom, her body smeared with urine, her thighs still wet with
oil and more of Flair's piss.

"I'm going to marry your father," she said. "You'll marry George."

Lying there Flair knew Maddy was right. There was a point when wildness with sex got dangerous. Her
flaunting of taboos was over.

A week later the two couples were married in a double ceremony, Flair to George, Maddy to Vic
Singleton, thus completing a courtship that had begun over ten years ago. George was in seventh heaven;
the girls mellow. When Maddy asked Flair who had torn up her wedding gown at Catalina, Flair
confessed that she had, and everybody laughed. So much for ancient, knife-wielding passions!

There was no question about where to go for a honeymoon, or two of them. Niagara Falls was only
twenty miles away. The two couples spent the afternoon ogling the majestic vistas of the two great falls,
the American side with its famous separate Bridal Veil Falls and the much wider Canadian Horseshoe
Falls. The guide told them the American side was 167 feet high and about 1,000 feet wide, while the
bigger Canadian Horseshoe was 158 feet high and 2600 feet wide. He added that several people had
actually gone over the falls in barrels and survived, while some had not.

"Right now there's another nut planning to go over. He wants to swim the rapids above, reach his barrel
on Goat Island, between the two falls and then go over. Naturally the authorities will try to stop him, but
if a man wants to commit suicide, it's pretty hard to prevent it. The guy may make it; he's some
professional swimmer named Phil Griffin."

The two couples looked at each other. "Holy mud!" cried Maddy. "We ought to stop him!"

"I say let him go," grunted Vic. "At least he won't be screwing some poor guy's newlywed wife, making
sex trouble for a change."

But they weren't going to be able to evade their old friend. He was in the dining room that night as they
enjoyed a luxurious wedding feast and he came over to wish the couples well.

"I heard all about it on your radio station," he told Vic. "Lots of luck in your marriage."

A suspicious Vic grunted his thanks and offered a limp hand. Maddy thought she saw exquisite pain in
the back of Phil's eyes. They discussed his crazy mission, trying to dissuade him, but he pointed out that
he needed the publicity to get his water shows started again. He invited them to see him shove off. He
planned to take off under cover of darkness, reach his barrel on the island and do this stunt in the
morning. He had his own photographer hidden out, and this way he could evade the authorities.

Vic declined the invitation to see him off. "We have other business tonight," he said dryly with a
possessive glance at his bride.

Phil saluted them and was gone, Maddy's eyes following him, looking worried.

Nine o'clock. The moment of glory for George Panther as he and the new Mrs. Flair Panther retired to
their bedroom. She had a gorgeous black lace wedding nightie to set off her tanned good looks. George
looked forward to a wild night of sex that would be the finest hour of his passion life. He was eons away
from Atlantic City and his bit whores of 1926!

But Flair talked to her father on the phone and then excused herself, giving George a peck on the cheek.

"I've got to talk to Daddy for a moment. I'll be right back. I won't be gone more than five minutes." And
she darted out of the room with her nightie absently clutched in her hand. George wasn't sure why that
made him nervous.

"She's gone!" Vic exploded when his daughter reached his room.

"Gone where!"

He flung a note at her. "To save that young bastard's life."

Flair gasped. "We've got to catch them." She ran to the window and looked out at the wild expanse of
trees and river, hearing the roar of the falls.

"I won't chase her!" said Vic. "I'm the husband. She has to come to me, want me."

"Daddy."

"No. If that little bitch wants to spend her wedding night with some young idiot on a boat on the Niagara
River, so be it. I'll settle her later!"

Flair grinned, locked the door and spread out her nightie.

"I thought it was strange that you'd marry Maddy after all these years and that she'd go along." Flair
started to undress while Vic looked at her with a horrified expression.

"You know who you really wanted to marry, at least sleep with," she teased him. She was out of her
dress, taking off her bra.

"Flair, stop! I'm your father. What do you mean!"

She went on coolly. "I mean married to young Maddy no one would suspect you of fooling around
elsewhere."

"Flair, I command you?"

"And Maddy could never trust Phil as a wage earner. So it works out perfectly. We each get the lover
we want, plus security." Her slip was gone, her panties came down. There was only her sleek hose held
up by garters and her high heels.

"Scandalous girl!" he cried. "I forbid this!"

"You want it!" she whispered, coming to him. "I want it. You always have, I have always." She took out
his cock which was stiff as a board from watching his sexy daughter undress.

He moaned as she began to jack him off with warm hands.

"We can't . . . do this," he muttered. "Incest!"

"Say it and get it over with," she laughed, thrilling to the movement of soft flesh over hard love muscle.
His cock throbbed in joy.

Vic was beside himself. A thousand times since Flair had grown up he'd lusted for her smooth, tanned
body, the big, bountiful breasts, and the hot, wayward little cunt between her legs. Yet he was shocked
to the core to think of sex with his own daughter. His belly was on fire with pleasure, his blade loaded to
the brim to explode. As he stared at her in horror at this perverted sex, the excitement, the magnificent
outrage, the utter sexiness of it, he knew he could not hold back. All day long he'd been unconsciously
thinking of hot sex with Maddy. To have it with Flair was so carnal and vulgar that he could not hold
back the rush of semen."

"Oh, Flair!" he cried.

His cock burst, shooting out high strings of jism through her fist, while he trembled in ecstasy and relief.
Spurt, spurt, spurt. It was copious and extraordinarily powerful for an older man's ejaculation. Flair
looked down in surprise as he shot off three gorgeous flings, then she quickly knelt, capped his geyser
and milked the rest of his Daddy-seed out of his prick.

"Mmmmmmm."

"Oh, God!" he moaned in exquisite joy, looking down to see the daughter-mouth harvest his spuming
manhood. He held her head and gushed it all out with tender gasps, until he was empty. Then he
staggered back.

"There!" he said in triumph. "You see I can't make it with you."

But Flair only grinned. She licked his spent, warm sperm off her hand and then turned to her sexy,
see-through nightie.

"That was only your last defense," she said. "Premature coming. But we have all night to do it right.
Come to bed."

The nightie, black and enticing over her smooth, young flesh contained her charms enticingly. If anything
she was sexier than before.

"What . . . what about your husband, George?" he asked.

"There'll be plenty of nights for George," she said. "He's waited a long time. He's younger than you. He
can wait. This is what I really want on my wedding night!"

It was what he wanted too, Vic knew, though he'd denied it for years. He got into bed naked, with his
daughter in that sexy nightie. He put the idea of incest from his mind. This was a young person, a body,
he wanted to fuck, fuck, fuck!

Now that Maddy had deserted him, now that he was converted to the idea, he decided it was best to
make the most of it. It was a little strange to be fucking his own daughter on his wedding night, but then
the whole human race was strange.

At first he used fingers to relieve her of her own tension, masturbating her until she gurgled, locked her
thighs and gave up gentle throbs of orgasm. Then he began to kiss and play with her body in that sexy
black netting, reveling in the feel of seductive cloth over warm, satiny flesh. His cock began to get hard
but his jism reservoir was not yet filled.

Slowly, easily he got acquainted with her body, feeling then kissing those big tits, then peeling back the
cloth to gobble the hard naked nipples in delight.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered in ecstasy.

He kissed her belly, her cunt, her thighs, He turned her over and kissed her back, her smooth, rounded
buttocks and back thighs. He placed her back in the first position, took off her nightie and spread her
legs to suck lusciously on her full-flowing cunt. Flair was so hot she writhed in happy agony.

"Oh, oh, oh. Suck me, take me," she whined.

She couldn't last long. After all those years of wanting and waiting she was a firestorm of passion. In no
time at all she surged up, froze and paid off her sex treasure to his cunnilingus.

"Ahhhhh. Now!" she yipped and throbbed over her relief and sweet joy.

Her recovery was quick. Each orgasm only lifted a woman to higher erotic planes. Now they were
ready for the master fuck, because Vic's cock was fully restored.

First Vic mounted her with his knees under her armpits. He lifted her head and shoved his stiff cock into
her mouth. He looked down on her beautiful face and saw his jong fuck in and out of her mouth while,
big-eyed and happy, she sucked and licked gently. Then he moved down to her breasts, his cock
gleaming with her syrup. He laid the reddened, alive blade between her breasts, made a tunnel of her
breast meat and rocked in pleasure.

"Oh, baby, you do have tits."

"Ohhhh, my nipples," she moaned.

The friction was exquisite but Vic rationed that pleasure. At last he arrived at her cunt, spreading her
legs. He fitted the smooth cockhead to her pink opening. Father stared down at daughter. She looked
back up at him, dazed, lost in her ultimate heaven, getting the sex she'd wanted so furiously for so long,
making her cling to her maidenhead and then fight both Texas and Maddy.

"Fuck me," she whispered.

He drove his prick forward with a glad cry. Swollen cock nestled inside swollen cunt lips, found the
encouragement of sweet, hot body oils, notched her inner passage and violated her.

"Heaven," she moaned.

"Best of my life!" he cried.

Slowly, slowly he fucked her open while she panted and thrilled, until his prong pressed lightly on her
uterus wall. They were totally locked.

Then, with his daughter fully prick-laden, Vic lowered himself against her flesh, belly to belly, chest to
chest, mouth to mouth. His tongue snaked out and drove between her lips while she writhed happily and
gasped at this double invasion. Eagerly they sucked tongues, washed teeth, explored pink tissues.

When her mouth was numb, he moved down to her tits to caress, gobble and tease those big nipples.
Flair thought she would faint from the hot, flashing pleasure that raced from those sensitive breasts to her
box and back.

"Ah, I can't believe!" she sang.

Then Vic carefully got his arms behind her shoulders and began a long slow fuck, all action in their
locked loins, each staring in the other's eyes as if reliving all those deprived years and making up for it in
the slow drive and thrilling friction of prick moving majestically in cunt.

Long, breathless minutes passed filled with sighs, gurgles of joy and groans of exquisite pleasure. Flair
moved her own butt to keep the friction just below the stage of orgasm. On and on, they dragged it out,
both bodies covered with sweat, bellies sucking air, hot flesh thrilling to hot flesh.

At last Flair gave a gasp of impossible wounding. "Oh, I can't last any more. Wooo!"

"Shall I m-make it a rush . . . or let it happen."

Her body ached madly for relief and sang with approaching orgasmic fury.

"Three . . . three more shoves, Daddy."

He gave her hot belly three more fierce fuck thrusts and they both went paralyzed in that faint-like joy of
immobility as the nerve net and muscles prepare to explode.

"Now!" he yelled.

"Yesssss!" she screamed, sobbing.

She felt her whole belly, her whole body stiffen. She felt massive streaks of incredible joy overcome her
as her cunt first tightened on Vic's daddy-prick and then began to flex. Throb, throb, throb. She spun
out in a wild, gossamer web of total relief and total ecstasy, rocking under Vic, giving up her
womanhood, squeezing the cock to have its juices, fucked to the limit of her powerful young body.

"Eeeeeee."

Vic gave his own wounded cry of delight. His prick, already ultra stiff and crazed to complete passion,
seemed to lock harder, and then his wondrous bursts came. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Freely, openly, vulgarly
he seeded his daughter's cunt with huge rushes of come, gush after gush of manhood in incestuous
madness, washing her womb wall with his sperm, sighing and slobbering in relief and the supreme glaze
of good feeling at a perfect fuck and cock throw.

Throb, spurt, throb, spurt. On and on the orgasms went until they were dizzy with relief and joy and
half-conscious with erotic satiation.

"Ohhhhhhh."

"Ahhhhhhh."

They finally expired and dozed happily in each other's arms, glowing from the peak sex run of their lives.

Alone in his room, George nursed his flask and faced the fact that his bride wasn't coming tonight. He
had a pretty good idea of where she was and where Maddy was too. As for him, he was nowhere. He
looked down at his flask, no longer necessary in these post-prohibition times.

"I should line you with rubber and turn you into a cunt," he told the flask. "At least you never desert me!"

Chapter 10

By 1939 Billy Rose and the New York World's Fair were ready for each other. America's greatest city
wanted a fabulous exposition. Rose wanted to nail down, once and for all, his reputation as a great
showman. His 1935 Jumbo, his 1936 Ft. Worth Centennial Casa Manana, and his 1937 Cleveland
Aquacade had lifted his star to the heights. Now he wished to put it in permanent orbit.

Yet he was not chosen at first to have a part in the New York Fair. When he learned there was to be a
10,000 seat amphitheatre to be filled with some sort of show, he knew the logical answer was a new
aquacade, better than Cleveland's. But first he had to win the job of Director of Entertainment from
Grover Whelan, the Fair's decision-maker. He hustled in his unique way - put on a Broadway show
called Let's Play Fair which not only advertised the show but flattered Whelan with taste and class. It
was a show that cost him well over $200,000 and it was put on for just one man, Grover Whelan.

Whelan came, saw the show and was convinced. Billy Rose got the Fair job, put on a fabulous new
Aquacade and filled the amphitheatre every night. His selection was more than justified when he
produced a million dollars profit from the show, both in '39 and '40. He was to go on to other triumphs
but that year at the New York Aquacade, with his lovely swimming star, Eleanor Holm, he reached the
pinnacle of his career, and filled his cup with more happiness when in the Fall of '39 he married Eleanor.

It was a great year and the end of an age in America, because World War II started in Europe in
September.

The New York Aquacade brought together some old friends who had not been seeing much of each
other. Phil Griffin came off the road to take the job as one of the swim choreographers. He knew the
value of being identified with the world-famous aquacade when he returned to colleges with his water
shows. His business thrived since he'd gone over Niagara Falls in a well-padded barrel and survived,
such being the value of bravado stunts in his line of work.

It did cost him two months in the hospital and the attentions of Maddy Metcalf who tried to dissuade him
in a night of lovemaking before the event. She saw him through his recovery and then returned to her
parents in San Diego, who were ill.

Maddy never consummated her marriage with Vic Singleton, as that individual seemed disgusted with
her for not showing up for a bedroom bout on their wedding night, although she pointed out to him that
they'd consummated to exhaustion some ten years before. A divorce followed.

Maddy believed that Flair served Vic as a surrogate wife, and she was right. But Flair didn't last much
longer than six months. It is a peculiarity of incest that while talking about it is never-ending, maintaining it

is difficult. In the end the mores of society prevail, guilt enters and incest ends.

Flair joined Maddy a year later to revive the Austin Sisters and eventually they came to the New York
Aquacade as singing swimmers or swimming singers as in Cleveland.

George left Niagara Falls and Flair, also without enjoying the fruits of marriage. "Even a worm," he
claimed, "has the right to leave the same old apples in the same old rotten barrel." Just as he and Vic
went through matching marriages, they separately went through matching divorces. George was
convinced that '37 was not Niagara Fall's best year. Through contacts with some of Rose's staff he was
able to agent some new clients into the '39 Aquacade.

Vic Singleton connected with the Aquacade after a string of odd circumstances. While he was freezing
his way through the Buffalo winter after Flair and Maddy left, he received a letter in the mail which
contained a deed to a small swim suit factory in Southern California. Maddy wrote that her father had
died, leaving a business that neither she nor her mother wished to manage. If Vic would be kind enough
to send $200,000 the factory was his.

Three things appealed to Vic about the deal. First, it was warm in Southern California, second he was
tired of selling non-tangibles. The booze he used to sell you could put your hands on, so many bottles
with so much liquid content inside. An endurance promotion was a phantom thing. A swim suit was
something you could put your hands on. If it had a nubile girl inside you'd put your hands there soon and
often. Yes, swim suit manufacture assured contact with lots of females, mostly undressed. He sent the
money.

There was a little bit more to it than that. He'd heard whispers, first through his science reporter at the
station and later in the garment trade that the DuPonts had come up with a new cloth called "nylon", a
synthetic fabric they were just putting into toothbrushes, but would soon feature in hose and other
articles of clothing. Why not swim suits? The cotton, wool and rubber affairs of the day were heavy,
ungainly and stayed water-logged. And so Singleton Swim Suits were born and Vic was able to get
some of his new items used by the Aquacade swimmers, which brought him to New York that summer.

Texas Bunny Long showed up in her old single singing role, but with a tight-fitting cowgirl costume of a
short skirt, silken legs, cowboy boots and the inevitable ten gallon hat. This time she sang authentic
hillbilly songs which were well-received by Fair visitors from the West. There was nothing like being in a
big, sinful city like New York and hearing the plaintive prairie wail one knows so well at home.

With the greatest of efforts the old Atlantic City "friends" managed to avoid each other throughout the
run of the Aquacade. Vic would hurry in and out with his new swimsuits. George would huddle with his
new talent, avoiding Flair, Maddy and Phil. Flair, Maddy, Texas and Phil had to be around a lot for
show changes and pick-up rehearsals but in a mob of a couple of hundred swimmers, plus dancers,
singers, specialty acts and musicians it wasn't hard to do.

After the Aquacade closed, Phil gave himself some time off. He went down to Atlantic City to do a little
swimming and sunning before his first water show assignment which began in the Southern sun states in
October. Atlantic City looked pretty seedy these days. He felt sad as he wandered the Boardwalk and
the Steel Pier and found the old building where George had had his aquarium girl show, complete with a
tankful of Vic's gin. The building was empty, desolate, boarded up. Even the signs were gone.

Gone too was the fabulous Houdini who'd done so much for them. Gone these thirteen years because a
couple of months after he'd come to help them he'd died in New York on Halloween. His last great
show had never fulfilled itself. He was injured in Canada on that tour when a man struck his stomach
with his fist at Houdini's invitation. Houdini did not have time to tense those rugged stomach muscles, and

his appendix was ruptured. Death followed shortly.

Did Houdini's ghost wander these streets, and the other places of the world where he'd put on his great
escapes, Phil wondered. The old order had passed. The new world war would surely bury an age.

Phil stayed at one of those old boarding houses with its smell of cooked food, wet clothing and rotting
wood. On the second afternoon as he went to the beach for sun and a swim, he suddenly ran into a
living ghost.

"Well, now, Phil, I thought you'd show up," said George Panther.

"Ah, George." Phil shook hands. He had no grudge against the sleaze promoter.

"Vic Singleton expects us aboard the yacht," said George, waving his hands towards the bay.

Phil looked out to sea and rubbed his eyes in astonishment. There was Vic's yacht as it had been on that
long ago day.

"Vic wants to see me?"

"Yup. He's got some new wild idea. Texas Bunny's over there, and Maddy and Flair. Vic himself of
course. Your hotel gave us your forwarding address and Vic already figured to come back to his old
stamping ground for a few days."

"I'm leaving town!" cried Phil.

But he was only kidding. He was curious. And on this trip George's boat had enough gas for them to
reach the yacht without swimming.

"AquaFun," said VIC.

Phil and George found him seated in the big cabin where the Catalina steak dinner had been held. Lined
up behind drinks were Texas Bunny, Maddy and Flair. There were polite nods.

"What's aquafun?" asked Phil.

"My new water show," said Vic proudly. "Our new water show. Billy Rose had a trademark on
"Aquacade" so we'll use my title. We'll use your show schedule across the country, featuring my
Singleton swim suits."

"We will?" said Phil.

"That's only the beginning," said Vic. "What goes on in Atlantic City every year since 1921?"

"The Miss America contest," said Phil. He'd already seen some of the contestants around town.

"The war may reach us," said Vic. "I hope it doesn't, but it probably will. Roosevelt can hardly keep us
out. We can't affect that, but wars are grim. People need something soft and beautiful and glamorous in
troubled times. Like a new beauty contest, only on the West Coast instead of here. Sponsored by
Singleton swim suits and others. We'll build up to it in about a year. And Texas and the girls can go
along on your shows while George gets us publicity and I get some of my old radio friends to push us
along. It can't miss, huh, Phil?"

Phil sat down gingerly as if he expected his pocket to be picked and stared at them all. Texas Bunny,
who already had a pretty good reputation as a singer. The beautiful girls, Maddy and Flair, who could

sing and swim. George to line up talent and boost the shows. Vic to bankroll a much classier line of
productions in the colleges than he'd been able to afford. Costumes. Musicians. Tabloid versions of the
aquacades. Why not?

Suddenly he grinned.

"I don't hear anything that makes me want to jump overboard," he said.

The rest of them cheered, somebody put a drink in his hand and the ice was broken as everybody
babbled happily at once.

But soon a strange silence fell. The moon hung low over the bay, while a soft ocean lapped at the yacht's
hull. Restless people came together, broke apart. Phil felt aroused. Something sexual had to happen with
this crowd because all three females excited him and he knew he excited them.

But how? The tension rose. He wandered into the bar to find the girls seated all in a row, nervously
playing with drinks, like teenagers at a dance, hoping to be asked, dreading it. Vic looked keyed up.
George looked scared. Suddenly Phil could stand it no more.

"What I suggest," he said, his voice almost a shout, "is that we turn off all the lights, send the crew below
deck, remove our clothes and play 'Sardine'!"

There was a moment of shock and then the happy, relieved babble started again. The game was what
they needed to get started.

The game of 'Sardine' is usually played in a large house with many rooms, halls and other hiding places.
One person is chosen sardine. The lights go out. The sardine hides. The guests search for him. As each
person discovers him, he or she bodily piles on top of the sardine, trying not to giggle or laugh and give
away the hiding place to those still searching. As more and more guests find the spot they throw
themselves bodily on the pile, making a people pyramid. The object is to be first, or at least avoid being
last to find the sardine and join him in his sardine tin. Playing the game nude adds a distinctly erotic flavor.

Phil guessed that the yacht would do nicely and that the game would only go one round, and he was right
on both counts.

Vic sent the crew below, all lights were put out and everybody stripped, the girls giggling. Phil was
selected as 'sardine'. He streaked directly for the deck-level stateroom and dove on the bed with the big
"S" on the spread, the bed where he'd first screwed Flair so long ago, where he'd seen Vic toss Maddy.

Seconds later the bed filled with nude, squirming bodies, male and female and seconds after that cocks
were pumped hard by feminine hands, cunts stroked wet by the men. The orgy was on, the game over.

Phil found himself on top of a warm, voluptuous and squirming nude female. He had her face down on
the bed. Without finding out who it was in the dark, he forced his cock under her ass, found her cunt and
violated her.

"Ahhh, yes," sang Flair. It was her rounded buttocks, firm and muscular that he rested on, as he fucked
his prick deep into her belly to make her groan in pleasure at her unsealing and him to gasp with friction
joy.

Fair enough. He had not plugged her delicious belly since taking her maidenhead so long ago, yet her
cunt was sweet and tight, very hot, very wet on his rocking, oozing blade.

Somebody had gone into action next to Phil. He reached out a hand to enjoy the luxury of feeling

another couple ream each other while he did his stuff. His hand stroked the soft, shapely thigh of Texas
Bunny, on top of her a man who turned out to be George Panther. Phil didn't know it, but George had
once more or less plugged his niece, plugged Flair but had only had Texas in the butt. Now he rode his
prick happily up into the belly of Bunny, humming in pleasure. They ground on each other with furious
intent.

Phil let their rocking bodies inflame his senses while under him crazed Flair bucked fiercely enough for
them both.

"Oh, oh, fuck," sang Flair.

"Ah, lover, love your marvelous prick," keened Texas to George.

"Hot, loose-boned woman, sexy," gasped George.

"Round-up time," laughed Phil. His shaft received tremendous surges of joy from Flair's cunt. But what
was the use of losing yourself in your own trip when a whole orgy went on around you. He reached over
and turned on the light. There was a "thump" and he saw that Vic and Maddy had fallen on the floor,
pushed off the hot exertions of the other two couples. Vic was on top of Maddy, giving the girl's rich
body a fantastic reaming. Vic made up for what he'd lost at Niagara Falls two years before. The fall
from the bed didn't even disturb them. They kept on plunging, making happy carnal sounds.

"Eeee, yesss, good!" came from Maddy.

"Hot little bitch," drooled Vic.

It was easy to see that while each couple was self concentrated on their own hugging, caressing, kissing
and fucking they were highly stimulated by the other hot sex going on around them. The bed shook as if
in an earthquake.

Phil grabbed Flair's big tits from underneath, hugged her firm body tight and gave her a cock-sprint of
furious action, reveling in the knowledge that with athletic girls you could be a little rough. He dug his
mouth into the sweet flesh of the back of her neck, making her surge and rock faster under him.

"Uh, uh, uh."

She was getting there in a hurry, thrilling him unbelievably. He was ready for this. In recent years and all
this summer he'd gotten control of his lust that interfered with his business, had almost reached a state of
celibacy. His neglected cock now made up for lost time.

"Uh-huh!" yipped Flair. She tensed her buttocks thrillingly under him, squeezed her legs together and
came for him with sturdy cunt throbs of surrender against his buried shaft after only about three minutes
of wild action.

He fucked her through. Then, cock drenched with her burning cunt oils he got a bright idea. He slid his
blade out of her cunt, moved up two inches and dug against her asshole.

"What . . . you doing?" she cried in surprise. Then, "Oweeeee!"

He caught her sphincter by surprise. His lusting shaft broke her seal and pried open the soft but tough
gut muscle and he drove his prick inside her rectum.

"Phil! Wrong hole!" she cried.

"I want your luscious ass," groaned Phil in exquisite pleasure. To sink his prong deep in her loin mass
between those firm, rounded hams was a delectable pleasure. Over her squirmings and protests he
oozed his jong deep, deep inside of her.

"Oh, my ass!" she keened. "Oh, I'm ass fucked!"

His cock reached its limit, encased in pink gut, held fiercely tight all around, saturated with her interior
body heat. He dry-throbbed richly, feeling the quakes of good feeling to his toes. He began to bugger
her asshole, thrilling to the play of those powerful buttocks on his belly, hugging her close, driving, driving.

"Ohhhh, Phil!"

"Got to have girl ass," Phil grunted, gathering speed and rocking in mounting joy.

The others didn't notice, because George was just then spurting hot seed in the cunt of Texas and
Maddy and Vic were peaking. As Phil drove in his new love chamber he heard the cries, groans and
gasps of the two couples who reveled in cock spurtings and cunt quakes.

At first Flair was shocked at Phil's bold use of her ass. She'd not gone much beyond an occasional finger
in that private orifice. A thick cock was much more of a painful stretch for her sphincter than a slim
finger. She felt fierce pain at first and the unpleasantly full feeling of having her back passage unsealed
and used, threatening her living organs deep inside of her. There was no womb to stop the progress of a
hard, driving prick.

"Ah, God!" she sang in distress.

But those sensitive tissues and nerves adapted very well to sex stimulation, she found. The agony eased
and the slick play of the hungry cock soon began to send hot sex thrills shooting up her belly and her
body.

"Do it . . . faster!" she begged.

Phil raged to his finish now, lifted in the golden glory of a tight female hole, sweet friction, hot lust and the
excitement of the lewd, open sex around him.

"Soooooon!" he crooned, rising to peak.

"Fuck . . . fuck my ass!" she responded. Her finger worked on the clit in her empty cunt, making her
squeeze and work her fabulous hams against him for greater pleasure.

"Now, oh now!" shouted Phil.

He felt the powerful glaze of his coming sex-throw. He gave an animal grunt of protest at all that tension
and good feeling. Then he burst deep in Flair's ass. Spurt, spurt, spurt.

"Ahhhhh," he sang.

It was the ultimate heaven, the breathtaking paralysis followed by the crazed spurts of his shaft, powered
by the belly and sex muscles bunched and organized by the nerves in orgasm. Wham, wham, wham. He
drove out rich, virile gushes far into Flair's ass interior while she squirmed and gasped at the surprising
enema of body hot seed on tender gut.

"Lush-ee-usssss," went Phil, grunting it off until his crammed sex reservoirs had exploded all his juices
into Flair's body. They hung exhausted after that, because Flair had also reached orgasm. Sexual

aberrations were the delight of her life, yet somehow she'd missed cornholing and she laid in perfect
contentment under Phil, his cock still firmly planted up her rear, loins attached to her rounded buttocks,
as they glowed in after-sex euphoria.

"You are a great lover," she panted as her heart rate began to slow.

"You're worthy of great love," he replied, hugging that moist, fucked out and voluptuous body.

That was only the beginning of course. After a great deal of petting, fondling and even discussion of the
new AquaFun and the coming water show expedition where they'd all work together, the men were hard
again. Phil took Maddy, while George had his workout with Flair and Vic renewed acquaintance with
Texas Bunny's cunt.

After that Phil no longer paid much attention. This happened and that happened. Half-dazed with the
sweet lust after a long vacation he saw the girls play with each other and some good oral action. He
remembered Texas Bunny's great skill at that form of sex and made sure that he surrendered his cock to
the greatest expert that had ever mouthed his blade.

At some point, the action ran down as they slept like babies, a nude pile of humanity, to stir, reach out,
caress flesh sleepily and then drift off reassured that the sex goodies were still there.

Phil came slowly awake after a long, restful sleep. His head rested on a soft, yet firm pillow. As he
blinked his eyes, he became aware that his body felt terrific, absolutely great after the night of sex. What
a party! He squeezed his pillow to find that it was a warm and silken naked thigh. For a moment he was
puzzled as to what he found inches from his eyes. Then full intelligence returned. What he stared at was a
graceful cunt, thatched with glossy black hair. He heard a couple of giggles.

He became aware that his cock, so richly emptied inside three ripe females in last night's orgy, was hard
once more. Impossible! There could be little juice left inside of him. Yet his prick thrilled and exulted
with pleasure.

When he looked down Maddy's sweetly curved leg he saw why. At the foot of the bed Texas Bunny
and Flair played with his penis, first one and then the other sucking on his stiff shaft.

"More?" he asked sleepily as lust began to flame in his sex parts.

"Your cock wants it," murmured Flair.

He lifted his head. He was still on the bed. So were the three girls, naked. Of Vic and George there was
no sign.

"They sneaked out on us," said Texas Bunny.

He put his head back down on Maddy's creamy thigh. She sighed and stirred. Her cunt brushed his
mouth. Feeling the new lust capture him he opened his mouth and began to eat her cunt, bringing her fully
awake with suction, his tongue and his teeth.

"Oh, Phil!" she whispered. She started to pull back, then realized the fun wasn't quite over, and pressed
her warm, oiling organ to his mouth, shivering in dawn arousal. Yes, it was almost dawn.

As her oils flowed, he sucked her avidly, drinking down her body warm juices, while she gasped and
fucked faster and faster on his face. His sex interest was intense now, because Flair and Texas Bunny
were getting serious with his hard jabber, sucking and slurping his shaft, giving him teeth that dragged
over excited nerves, hot closed mouths, and warm saliva.

"Uh, uh, uh," he said as he bucked happily. "Don't know . . . if have anything left."

"If it's there, we'll find it," laughed Flair.

So, he had the complete harem, all three of them at once. As he grunted his animal lust, felt the rising
rushes of good feeling, he realized that he was no longer hung on on Maddy alone. He loved them all, he
wanted to fuck them all in every available hole, over and over. They were welded into a unit now, their
lusts matched and there were good times ahead, both in business and pleasure. All around him was
naked and hot female flesh, and every line and curve, every breast, thigh and leg was elegantly shaped
for visual as well as carnal pleasure.

Maddy closed her milky thighs on his head, bucking in rapture, so he could no longer hear, nor see, with
her belly close to his eyes. With the other two on his legs, sucking him off he was buried in nude, hot
flesh. It was a strange and thrilling sensation to lie there so, giving up his cock to whichever mouth was at
work, while he gobbled Maddy's cunt and drove her crazy with pleasure. Faintly he could hear her
gurgles and the other two laughing and sucking on his prick. It was total immersion in carnal glory. He
wanted it to last forever!

"Mmmmmm," was the only sound he could make, and he was the only one who heard it but it was the
exclamation of total satisfaction.

He tried to hold Maddy back as well as himself to stretch out this fantastic dawn sex but his tongue on
her hot little clit maddened her right up to orgasm. Maybe he made it last ten minutes, the best of his lust
life. It was touch and go between the furious rich delight of his sucked cock and her writhings to glory.
She gave up her cunt slightly before his cock burst. He felt her deep-gut throbs and whines with utter joy
as he took her. Then she pulled away panting, murmuring, "Never . . . had it . . . so good!"

He grabbed her lower body, pressed his face into the satin-warm stomach, stiffened and gave himself up
to his fabulous throw.

"Ah . . . wow!" he yipped and then the jism shot off, an incredible amount after all he'd thrown off last
night. Each gush brought him thrillingly alive as he shot off leaping sperm, first into Texas Bunny's mouth
and then into Flair's as she grabbed his bursting tube away to drink the rest of his shots.

"Ah, ah, ah," he expired completely, open and milked, glowing and relieved. Was there anything in the
world better than orgasm in sex?

After that, Texas and Maddy wanted to sleep some more, but he and Flair were fully awake. She
challenged him to a nude swim to the shore and back.

"I'll let the clean sea wash out my cunt," she laughed.

"You can say the word 'cunt' now!" he laughed.

She looked surprised. "Say it and use it," she smiled. She leaped to the boat rail and dived over, her
naked body an exquisite form in the air. Then it was his turn as he finally got to make his dramatic
Douglas Fairbanks dive after her, and she watched in appreciation.

The End