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A Vintage Erotic Novel Involving a Sexy and Seductive Girl, Full of Sexual Adventures, Surprises and Twists.
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CHAPTER ONEIt was a fine spring day in the city, but Greg was tense. Outside his window the trees shook their leaves in the freshening wind, and old ladies walked' their dogs. On the sidewalk below, a girl in a short skirt weaved in and out of the slowly moving crowd, and Greg's eyes jumped to her. But no, it wasn't Cheryl. Besides, he chided himself, Cheryl would be coming from the other way-if she came.Greg remembered every detail of Cheryl's anatomy. He had spent five long hours, slowly sipping bottle after bottle of beer, in a discotheque in the Village the night before. Every minute had been spent probing the erotic flesh of the girl in the caged elevated platform in front of him. The night's project had been to move up slowly, as patrons filtered in and out, until he finally had the best seat in the house-the seat right under where Cheryl danced, from which he could stare up at the sequined crotch, bouncing buttocks, and monstrously undulating breasts that squirmed and writhed in time to the music.It was not often that a go-go girl turned Greg on. All too often they wore cardboard smiles, and repeated the same moves over and over in a bored fashion that accurately indicated their indifference toward their work. Besides, many of them had breasts that were clay-like and hard from injections of silicone and they could not bounce and move in a natural manner.But Cheryl seemed to like her work. She seemed to enjoy turning people on. When he had first tried to engage her in conversation, she'd rebuffed him playfully. "Shut up," she'd said with laughing eyes, "you're just supposed to sit there and get a hard-on.So he did just that. The more he stared at her, the more she danced to him. Finally, despite the meager sum in his wallet, he followed an old discotheque custom and tipped her a dollar. Then she danced over quite close to him, squatted down, spreading her legs to focus his eyes on the sequined band that covered the-he imagined-delicious lips of her cunt. Sucking in her beautifully curved and rounded stomach, she shoved her pussy at him again and again, till it was nearly in his face. He shot out his tongue and licked his lips, as if to tell her he'd like to tongue her slit. She laughed. Then, taking the dollar and squatting down till her knees rested on the floorboards, she looked around. It was quite late-nearly closing time-and Greg was the only customer on his side of the podium. No one could see them. Suddenly Cheryl yanked her G-string aside, and the generous folds of her salivating cunt stared Greg in the face. She squatted even further, and the folds spread. For just a second she let her little finger wander into the hole of her vagina. Then she tucked the dollar bill into her G-string and danced away. Greg was shaken. His genitals were warm with the sperm that oozed up in them. He was ready to shoot. He had a wild image of his cock exploding in his pants and washing Cheryl right off the stage. Seconds later she danced back and held her little finger under his nose. The odor of pussy was unmistakable. His tongue wandered out of his mouth in a communicative gesture-and before he knew it Cheryl's finger was in front of his face. He licked it, and the tiny taste of cunt juice made him wild to have her squat down on his face and bury him in the warm folds of flesh.Then Cheryl was dancing on the other side of the platform. For the first time Greg noticed a gray-haired, well-tanned man in a business suit watching her intently from the bar. Cheryl shook her ass at him, and the man picked his drink off the bar and came to sit at a table on the side of the stage opposite Greg's. For a second he sat staring up into the same sequined triangle that had so intrigued Greg.The gray-haired man was suave, and Greg figured that despite the color of his hair, he could be no more than forty-five. Expressionless, he sat watching the dance, and Greg suddenly knew what made Cheryl so attractive. She was not a professional. Her wide brown eyes and her long, straight black hair, her body that was perhaps a trifle too fat-although only in the ass, which Greg didn't mind anyhow-indicated that she was just a girl who liked dancing and liked sex, and who wasn't afraid to admit it. She had a clean kind of feel to her. Greg suspected that the gray-haired man saw the same things in her. Dirty old man, Greg thought, probably wants to fuck her because she reminds him of his daughter.Suddenly the music stopped. The set was over. Greg wondered whether there'd be another one, or whether it was closing time."You coming back?" he asked, as Cheryl put on a flimsy robe and stepped down past him."Yes," she said, slightly more coolly than he would have expected. Then he saw the manager staring at them from the front bar. Was Cheryl's coolness a result of the fact that she was not supposed to talk to customers? Or was it because the gray-haired man looked better to her now than he did? He would certainly have more money.Cheryl disappeared downstairs, and Greg stared into his beer for ten minutes until she returned. When she did, the gray-haired man was ready with a few dollar bills on the table in front of him. As Cheryl started to dance, he held one out to her. Her black hair fell down over her back as she squatted in front of him. Greg's spirits fell. She must give everyone the same treatment, he thought. A look at the old pussy for a buck.The gray-haired man was talking to her. Greg tried to pick up the conversation. "What's your name?" The voice was low and calm."Cheryl," she answered. Then Greg's eyes, which were fastened to the crack of Cheryl's ass as she squatted, moved up to the side-strap of her G-string, where Cheryl was tucking the dollar bill in."Why don't you put it where the other one is?" the man asked."Because there's no room for it there," she said playfully to him."If I give you this one, where will it go?" he asked, holding up another crisp dollar."I don't know," she said."How about in the rear?" he suggested."All right," she agreed. She plucked the bill from his outstretched hand and danced around with it. First she lifted a breast and placed the bill under it. Miraculously, it stayed when the mound of flesh flopped back to her chest, pinned between her luscious tit and the smooth skin of her body. The gray-haired man applauded."What's your name?" Cheryl asked him."Stan," he said."Okay, Stan," she said. "In the rear, eh?""In the rear."Cheryl turned her back on Stan and bent over till the tassels at the end of her pasties drooped nearly to the floor. Then she reached behind her with the dollar bill and, wiggling her rear in Stan's attentive face, gently pulled the G-string out just far enough to slide the bill into place-giving Stan, Greg thought, a very brief glance down to the bottom of her crack. Greg imagined the tiny round red spot of her asshole, and wondered whether Stan's gaze had penetrated that far.Suddenly Cheryl danced away from Stan and over to Greg. She leaned down very close to him and wiggled her torso until her tits almost slapped him in the face. "Do you like my rear?" she asked, in a whisper so Stan wouldn't hear it."It's beautiful," Greg admitted. Cheryl smiled and danced away a bit. Then, under the guise of giving Stan the same tit-treatment she had given Greg, she leaned over in Stan's direction, spreading her legs and wriggling her ass, tightening and loosening the flesh of her buttocks as she did so. Stan stared at her tits and reached for another dollar. While he did, Cheryl reached both hands around behind her and, placing one on each buttock, spread herself wide. The tiny rope of her G-string strained tight. Then two fingers wandered over to Stan's dollar bill, which, pinned under the cloth, protruded from her cheeks as though she were passing it out. Grasping it firmly, she yanked it to one side. It took the G-string with it, exposing the depths of her crack from its top to the point where the bushy hairs of her cunt sprouted and stuck straight back at him.Greg's eyes fastened on the gyrating reddish dot of her asshole, which miraculously began opening and closing in a sensual rhythm to the music. Greg, staring at the raw flesh, felt an almost uncontrollable urge to stand up and shove his tongue into it. But just at that moment Cheryl stood up and let go of the dollar bill. The G-string shot over into place snugly in her crack, and she commenced dancing as if nothing had happened.Seconds later Stan was saying something to her. "What are you doing...." was all Greg could catch. And then, "A hundred dollars." Greg gasped. How could Cheryl-who probably earned twenty or thirty bucks a night here, plus tips-afford to turn down an offer like that? And, he found himself asking, why should she turn it down? He wondered for the first time in his life what he would do if he were in that position.He only heard fragments of Cheryl's reply, but he knew she had turned him down! "Too tired," she said, "and besides...." a few words were lost, then, "don't go in for that anyhow...."Suddenly the gray-haired man got up and left, forsaking a nearly full drink and almost stomping out the door. Cheryl danced over to him, shoved her buttocks toward him and wiggled them, and then, in what Greg would almost have called a pensive mood, said, "I can't figure people like that out."All Greg could manage to say was, "I can't figure you out. You turned down a hundred bucks!""I've turned down a lot more than that," she said simply. "If I don't get really turned on by a guy, I don't sleep with him. Besides, what I told him is true-I am goddamned tired. This dancing really takes it out of you."Greg sensed that there was a message in this for him too. He wasn't going to fuck Cheryl tonight. Suddenly the music stopped. This was the last set. Cheryl was leaving, and Greg didn't even have a phone number.As she stood facing him and putting her robe on again, Cheryl quietly took Greg's dollar bill from her crotch and handed it back to him. He was about to protest when he saw that there was writing on it. "I don't take money from friends," she said, removing Stan's bills from her G-string along with a few others she had accumulated during the night and rolling them up neatly. Then she disappeared without a word.Greg stared at the scrawls on the bill in the dim light of the bar. The spotlights on the dancer's cage had gone out, making the place almost black. "Walk me home?" it said, in a neat script rendered almost illegible by the wrinkles and dirt on the bill. "Stage door, down the alley, in ten minutes."Greg's heart normally would have started pounding at a proposition like this. A girl who just a short time before had squatted in front of him and exposed her cunt to his ravenous gaze ... but now he had a different feeling. It was almost as if she really wanted to have company on the way home.And that was the way it turned out. Greg met her at the stage door. She was dressed unobtrusively in dungarees and a dark blue turtleneck. She looked like a coed with her wide brown eyes, face devoid of makeup, unaffected, almost shy smile. They walked a few blocks through the vacant streets of the Village, till they came to a five-story brownstone."I don't know whether I can make it up the stairs," she said. "I'm suddenly so damned exhausted. You know I danced for almost eight hours tonight? I'm supposed to go twenty minutes on and twenty minutes off, which is brutal enough-but the other girl got sick and went home just after you got there...."I saw her do a couple of sets," Greg informed her. "She's not you.""Me or not, she wasn't there," Cheryl wailed in an almost girl-like fashion. "And I had to go twenty minutes on and ten off.""Do you get extra pay for that?" Greg asked her."I damned well better. The boss is kind of a shit, if you'll pardon the language....""I've heard it before....""I thought you had. But he does need girls to work for him, and if I bitch enough I think I can get some extra out of him.""How much do you make there?""Twenty-five a night," she said. "Pretty lousy, isn't it?"It was strange. Greg was beginning to wonder whether he really liked being behind the scenes in a go-go girl's life. Earlier they had talked about how the adhesive tape she put her pasties on with some times irritated her nipples. This was hardly as sexy as watching her dance. But she was incredibly loose, easy-going, and free-spirited-which was why he had liked her in the first place. "Yeah, that's pretty low pay," he agreed."I don't want to stay at it for long, though," she told him."What do you want to do?""I play guitar ... and sing," she said. "Maybe I can get a few gigs in the little clubs around here. That is, as soon as I get enough bread together to get a really good guitar."A thought struck Greg-a way to get together with Cheryl again. "Hey, can you work out accompaniments to songs-if you have the tune and the words?""Sort of," she said. "Yeah, I think so.""Because I'm just learning how to play the guitar, and I wrote a couple of songs. But I don't know enough about music to work out the chords for them.""Oh, I can do that for you," she said, as she turned the key in the front door lock and cracked the door open a little."When?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager."I don't know," she said. "I usually get up around ten or eleven. I don't have much to do.""Why don't you come up to my place for lunch tomorrow?" he suggested."I'll tell you what," she said, with a tired smile. "Call me tomorrow morning around ten and I'll let you know. I don't know whether I'll be able to walk then."Greg wondered vaguely whether she would be able to do anything else-or, more important, whether she would want to do anything else. He had visions of Cheryl dancing for him in his living room, spreading her bare cunt wide open and letting him peer into its yawning cavern. He could see her wide sensual mouth closing over his prick and drawing at it insistently, sucking the sperm up from deep inside him. He could see her full, round ass wiggling tantalizingly in front of him....He walked away. In the silence, he could hear Cheryl's footsteps clomping wearily up the stairs of the brownstone. The dull aching of an unsatisfied prick bothered him from the crotch of his pants. He wondered whether that prick would ever get where it wanted to be.The doorbell rang. Greg snapped awake. He had been mesmerized by the sight of an immense tree waving in the wind while he'd remembered the events of the night before. Moments later, Cheryl was dancing in front of him. Was it a dream? He could hardly tell. Her immense brown eyes stared into his as he fastened his gaze once more on her crotch-this time covered not with the professional G-string, but with an amateur pair of bikini panties whose pure white showed the same cluster of hairs that he had seen briefly the night before.Cheryl turned. The record on Greg's stereo revolved slowly, beating out a sensual rhythm. Boom, Boom, Boom. Cheryl's ass ground away as if it were pulverizing a cock between its generous cheeks. She turned around to shove her tits, encumbered only by a tiny bra, toward him."What a set," he said admiringly as she fingered them and teased the nipples erect."Thank you," she said. She approached him till her breasts were hanging in front of him, and then swung them gently toward his face. They bounced off like immense clouds, the nipples drawing hard little lines on his cheeks. "Suck my tits," she said gently.The brownish-red puffiness of an aching nipple approached Greg's mouth. He opened wide, and in a moment was rolling the lumpy button around in his mouth, feeling its hard, tense texture on the inside of his cheeks, along his tongue, down his throat. Sucking Cheryl's tits was like eating foam rubber-the masses of them just kept coming. Pliable, soft, they oozed down his throat till he felt a nipple tickling him deep down. He made a swallowing motion and Cheryl groaned. He felt her hips gyrating, still in time to the music, more fervently now. There was a rhythm building up that he knew would only end with a climax. Could this be the same girl that he had walked home the night before, the girl with tired legs in dungarees and a turtleneck? Sheets of his music slid to the floor as he shifted his position on the couch. He felt fingers moving toward his crotch, teasing him to a phenomenal erection.Suddenly Cheryl broke away. She was dancing across the room to the music."God, you have fantastic tits," Greg moaned as he collapsed back into a heap on the sofa."You seem to have a pretty good cock," she returned. "After I dance for you, you have to dance for me.""Never did it before," he breathed, taking a drink from a glass of scotch he had poured for himself ages ago. "But I'll try."Cheryl danced back toward him. There was a pencil on the table. She picked it up and played with it. Then she licked it. Then she turned her back to him and drew off her panties.Greg sat, with his organ throbbing uncontrollably in his pants, staring at the shimmering buttocks that faced him. Cheryl looked over her shoulder at him. She squatted a little, and the buttocks spread. Between her legs Greg could see the pouting Bps of her cunt already beginning to drip with come. A drop fell to the floor."What would you like me to do with this pencil?" Cheryl asked."I don't know," Greg said in a stupor, transfixed by the sight of the total nakedness before him. He was breathing heavily. He wondered whether he could stand the suspense. Cheryl had him right where she wanted him."I think I'll stick it up my cunt," she said. Still dancing, she turned and her wide, big-lipped pussy stared at him, a panting mouth waiting to be satiated. He stared at the outer lips, and then his gaze meandered downward as Cheryl ran the pencil up her leg, leaving just the faintest traces of markings from its soft lead.Cheryl mounted the coffee table in front of Greg, her buttocks spreading out flat on its shiny yellow-painted surface, and drew her legs up to her chest. "You like my juicy cunt?" she asked."I'm about to come in my pants," he admitted feverishly.Cheryl started to ease the slim wooden shaft of the pencil up her pussy. It was covered with thick white secretions instantly. "Your cock is going to be in there in a minute," she said. "Your big, long, fat cock. Let me see your cock, Greg."Greg drew his pants off slowly. As he did, the pencil disappeared completely into Cheryl's cunt. In a second it was out again. Staring at his cock, Cheryl drew her legs up even further, till she was almost lying on her back, and the loose flesh of her asshole came around into sight. Still undulating in time to the music, she took the slimy pencil and poised it at the entrance to the tightly knotted little opening. Then she began to ease it in slowly. When she had it in about two inches, she let go of it and, working her ass muscles, jerked it spasmodically up and down. Mesmerized by the jerking yellow rod that emerged from the delicate pink tissue that held it so firmly in place, Greg began to massage his organ, now grown to a huge mottled red."Shit, that really turns me on," Greg breathed."Me too," Cheryl said, staring up at the ceiling, massaging her now erect clit with one hand while she brought the other one back to work the pencil still deeper. "I want to get fucked in the ass.""All right," Greg agreed. "Right after I fuck you in that ripe luscious cunt of yours.""I don't know," said Cheryl, "maybe I'd better blow you first. I love all that hot come shooting into my mouth." At the thought of it, her lips formed an oval, as though they were sucking a prick. Greg gazed at them admiringly. He had noticed her wide mouth and full lips immediately upon first seeing her, and had wondered whether she knew how to use them."I know what I want next," said Greg, remembering his fantasies of the night before. "I want you to squat on my face, and rub that pussy all over me till I drown in come."So they went into the bedroom, and Greg laid down on the bed. Above him, Cheryl prepared to let herself down and squash the thick stew of lips and clit and hair and thighs onto him.She started down. He guided her. Just before she made contact with his waiting face, he ran his tongue quickly up and down her crack, tasting the sweat and Smelling-the odors of a female in heat. His cock jerked like a rocket ship about to take off. He grabbed the lower part of her left buttock as if it were a tit and sucked it into his mouth."Ooh," she squealed, "that feels good."He bit down. "That's it," she said in a high pitched voice, somewhat surprised at the pleasure of the slight pain. "Hurt me ... hurt me more."Greg bit down hard on the flesh of her ass, leaving a red row of tooth marks when his mouth came away."Stick your tongue up my asshole," she begged. Her hands wandered back and began pulling her cheeks apart, framing the growing pinkness of her expanding asshole in a sea of white jiggling flesh that strained for satisfaction. Greg's tongue followed the line of her crack once more, lifting when it came to her asshole and passing over."Oh shit," she begged, "don't tease me like that!Greg's tongue continued down to where the slit of Cheryl's pussy began, and then licked little circles on the hairy sides of her cunt."Up my ass, up my ass," Cheryl almost screamed.Suddenly, Greg drove his tongue into the hot little crevice and buried it deep in the tight, smooth opening. Just as suddenly Cheryl's hips jerked even farther apart, her hands yanking at her cheeks to spread them as far as possible. "That's it," she said, like a jockey encouraging a horse in the crucial part of a race. "Lick me up my ass! Ooh, that feels good!" Her breath shortened.Then her own mouth began to come down on Greg. Cheryl hooked her arms behind Greg's knees and leaned down on him, bringing his knees up to his chest and exposing the bottom of his iron-hard penis, the silky sac of his balls, and the secret opening of his asshole.As Greg shoved his curled-up tongue into Cheryl's beautiful ass again and again, he felt a pleasurable sensation coming from his own crotch. As he pushed his cheeks up against the cheeks of Cheryl's rear end, he felt her tongue working into his asshole. It was extraordinarily pleasing, and he began to rock.
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