Wydawca: Sandy Kategoria: Obyczajowe i romanse Język: angielski Rok wydania: 2017

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Opis ebooka Sexpo '69 - Adult Erotica - Sand Wayne

A Vintage Erotic Novel Involving a Sexy and Seductive Girl, Full of Sexual Adventures, Surprises and Twists.

Opinie o ebooku Sexpo '69 - Adult Erotica - Sand Wayne

Fragment ebooka Sexpo '69 - Adult Erotica - Sand Wayne

Sexpo '69

CHAPTER ONELisa Garris pulled up the collar of her raincoat as she hurried through the dark, rain-slicked streets of Montreal. Weary from fighting the crowds at Expo 69, her steps automatically quickened as she approached the apartment house where she and Joyce lived. Expo was fun, and Montreal was lovely even in the rain, but she had felt ill at ease all day long. And she knew why. The familiar itch in her loins told her the reason for it. It had been a long time since she had any sexual relief.If she could just relax her nerves and her morals, it would have been so easy. Out at the fair, men were everywhere looking at pretty girls as well as the exhibits. While she was standing in line for one of the national pavilions, someone brushed up against her from behind. She turned around, startled, and a pleasant young male face had smiled at her. Quickly she turned back, but she could still feel him pressing up behind her, using the line as an excuse to thrust the front of him against her buttocks. Even through the layers of cloth she could feel him shifting subtly so his erect sex organ rubbed against her. She'd felt embarrassed, too embarrassed to even tell anyone. She'd hissed over her shoulder at him, "Stop it, or I'll call a policeman."But the man had just laughed, reached suddenly for her waist and pulled her closer to him, fitting the bulge in his pants tight against her rear. Lisa was too startled to protest. It was broad daylight, but no one seemed to notice, probably thinking the two of them were together. The man wiggled the front of him in a gyrating motion against her. An instant later, she could feel him throbbing with release and sighing.He released her, said, "Thanks for the dry fuck, honey," and when she turned he was gone.Lisa had felt very upset by the occurrence. She got out of line herself and went to the nearest restaurant to get a cup of coffee and try to calm her jangling nerves. Was there something about her that made men persecute her so, something in her face that let them know she burned with a sexual fire that couldn't be put out?That was when she noticed the fiery itch that returned to her loins, that made her want to reach under her skirts, up under her panties, and place her fingers through the wealth of curly black pubic hair into the moist warmth and find the button that would release the passion building up inside her. But she didn't, and eventually the ache had subsided. A good night's rest, she decided, is what she needed--but even as she thought it, she knew that wasn't really what she needed.Her high heels clicked up the brick steps, and a moment later she was in the lobby. The elevator took her slowly to the third floor, where she got off. She went down the corridor to their apartment, inserted the key quietly, and gently pushed open the door. As an afterthought, she took off her shoes and held them in her hand as she eased the door shut behind her. There was no point in waking Joyce. The blonde liked her sleep too well to take kindly to having it interrupted. Lisa was padding silently across the dark living room toward the dimly lit bedroom, when a voice stopped her."Oh, Hugh baby, don't stop. Screw me, baby. That's it. Ram it on home!"It was Joyce's voice, overcome with passion."I ain't stopping now," a hoarse male voice promised.Lisa paused, smiling wryly as bedsprings cried out protestingly beneath the two writhing bodies. She'd been worried about waking Joyce, but the blonde was obviously not thinking of sleep just then. The thought amused Lisa, but she felt an undercurrent of disgust. Joyce was willing to spread her legs at the drop of any male zipper. If she'd been the one at the Expo, she'd have raped the man on the spot without batting an eye."Oooooooh, you're so big!" Joyce squealed. "You've got the biggest cock in the world, and I want it! I want all of it stuck up inside me! That's it, baby! Ram it up me as far as you can! Give it all to me!"The girl's voice rose to almost a shriek, and Lisa recalled Joyce saying she was the noisiest lay in town. She seemed to enjoy sex of any kind, and mixed with Lisa's disgust was a secret envy of the girl, combined with a half-belief that perhaps there was something special in the way Joyce was built that made her react so violently to a male animal pawing her. In the short time she'd known the blonde, Lisa had gotten plenty of opportunity to see the way Joyce was built. The girl, proud of her lush body, enjoyed walking around the apartment in the nude, often sprawling naked on the couch with her legs pointing in opposite directions as though to give the world the best possible view of the soft blonde down which framed her genitals. Except generally the only one looking was Lisa, who felt ill at ease at the sight of the girl so openly exposed, of the generous, ruby-tipped breasts thrusting out. She wondered if it might be envy, since her own body tended to be on the slim side."Oh, baby! baby! baby!" Joyce was moaning.The words shook Lisa from her trance. She couldn't just stand there all night. She had to do something. She hesitated. Then she crept silently across the darkened living room to the open bedroom door."You like me to fuck you, don't you?" the man said."I love it," Joyce said, hysterically."Tell me!" the man demanded, "I like you to fuck me!" the blonde said. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"A low-wattage light glowed from the night-stand, sending feeble rays over the naked, sweat-gleaming bodies on the bed. Joyce's blonde hair splayed across the pillow, her head moving side to side, her eyes closed, her tongue snaking out to wet her ruby lips. Flat on her back, her legs spread, raised to accommodate the male body swarming over her. Lisa recognized the man as Hugh Alexander, a young engineer Joyce had met at the Exposition only a week earlier. One of his hands covered a creamy breast that quivered with excitement. His head twisted to suck the nipple of the other. And all the time his body moved in and out between the girl's legs, in and out, in and out. Lisa almost gasped aloud as she saw the man's sex organ, a huge shaft of flesh. No wonder Joyce liked him. Joyce measured her men in inches of erect penis, and Hugh Alexander was obviously one of the leaders. She felt disgust fill her at the sight of his naked, sweating, hairy body--and yet she couldn't tear herself away from the sight.Joyce shrieked her delight. Her lips were parted, red and moist-looking, her eyes slitted with passion. Her full breasts, her stomach, her thighs quivered and shook.Lisa shuddered, partly with disgust at what was happening, but mostly with sheer ecstasy at the view she had of Joyce's golden legs dancing in the air."Come on, baby!" the blonde cried out. "Make it happen! Now! I can't wait any longer!"Hugh was only too eager to comply. His thrusts grew faster, more forceful. Joyce wrapped her slim legs around him, rising to meet each thrust. His mouth found hers, covered it. Their tongues moved in and out in rhythm. Lisa felt drops of perspiration bead her body as she stared in hypnotic fascination at the scene taking place before her hungry eyes. She wet her suddenly dry lips. She felt an ache in her breasts and she reached up and touched them, feeling the nipples grow firm and hard even under the blouse and bra. She felt her blood pound hotly through her veins and her heart race. She could hardly breathe as a stifling pleasure sought to grasp her. She couldn't help herself. She knew what she had to do. She reached down and lifted her skirt, then moved her hands along her stockinged thighs, up above the rim of nylon, under the panties, searching for the seat of her own mounting desire, finding it.On the bed, Joyce was crying, "Oh, baby, you're good! You're so good!"The lovers thrashed about on the bed, moving in naked unison. The man hammered his battering ram against the girl, who lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. She twisted and gyrated her hips, squeezing moans of pleasure from his lips. The tempo of their movements increased as passion took hold of them with its relentless grip.The girl's full white breasts rose and fell in time with her labored breathing. Lisa too felt the hot tides of passion engulf her. Her body shuddered convulsively as she continued working herself to a fever pitch. And all the while, she stared at Joyce's creamy breasts with their turgid ruddy nipples swollen with passion, at the white legs dancing in the air, the firm and round buttocks twisting in sensual gyrations. She knew that none of them could last long at this rate.Joyce was the first to go. She went crazy, rolling and twisting on the bed so that the entire bedroom seemed to shake. She shrieked, her body went rigid from head to toe. Then the man gasped loudly, his own body stiffening to meet hers. In the living room, Lisa felt her own passions reach their inevitable peak, climb over the top, and explode in a series of spasms that rocked her entire body and left her weak and trembling.Their passion spent, the man and the blonde both collapsed in each other's arms, laughing as their mutual tensions were released by the shuddering climax.Lisa closed her eyes and leaned weakly against the nearby wall. Sweat drenched her body, and she still trembled from the effects of the sexual release she had provoked in herself. Her hand retreated from its position, and her skirt fell back into place. It had been good, she thought happily; but not as good as if-- "Baby, you are really too much," Hugh said, laughing."You're quite a lot yourself, baby," Joyce told him, her voice full of admiration. "You've got it where it counts."Lisa opened her eyes and looked up in time to see the blonde girl affectionately pat the man in the spot she admired so much. It was no longer erect and throbbing, and it lay there between his legs like a huge Italian sausage."I wonder what time it is," the man said. "Your roommate--""Lisa? She's probably still out at the fair. We've got time for one more."Hugh laughed. "Time maybe, but suppose I can't make the grade. You take a lot out of a guy.""I know my men, baby," Joyce told him confidently, "and you can do it." She bent over him "With my help, of course."Joyce eased her body toward the foot of the bed, twisted her body so her head was above the man's groin. She seized his limp organ and wet her lips."You look good enough to eat," she said."As a matter of fact," he said, "so do you."He pulled her legs up over his shoulders and buried his face between them. Joyce squealed in delight as his lips and tongue plunged into her sensitive areas. Then, as the shaft of flesh in her hands began to tremble, she pulled it to her lips. A moment later, the only sounds to come from either of them were muffled moans of pleasure.Lisa moved away quickly, her stomach churning. The room seemed suddenly stifling. Hastily, silently, she made her way across the darkened living room, opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. Her only thought--escape.The cool Canadian night greeted her, and she pulled her collar up again as she went down the steps of the apartment hotel. A light mist had begun to fall, so she hurried down the street, past the subway, to the coffee shop on the corner. The place was still open, so she went in and used their wall phone to call Joyce. It took a dozen rings to make Joyce answer it, and when she did she seemed out of breath."I--uh--hope I didn't wake you," Lisa said."I was just--uh--relaxing," Joyce told her.There was a man's muffled laughter, which annoyed Lisa for some reason. She said, "I just wanted to tell you I'm still out here at the Exposition. I'm going over to La Ronde, the carnival section. I won't be home for at least another hour and a half.""Good," Joyce said. "I mean, I'm glad you called. I was worried about you. Well, have fun.""Sure," Lisa said. "Joyce?""Yes?"Lisa hesitated. For some reason, she was reluctant to let the blonde girl go. It was probably because she knew what the girl was going to.She said, "I wished you'd come along with me. Some of the exhibits were wonderful.""Me too, Lisa," Joyce said, a trifle impatiently. "But I did have this awful headache. In fact, I think I'll go to bed right now.""Okay. Good night."When she hung up, Lisa realized she was having the start of a headache, too. She thought of staying in the coffee shop, but it was too quiet and would only depress her more. What she needed was something stronger than coffee. She remembered there were several bars on the street, so she went out into the cold again and started walking. She realized what was bothering her. Joyce had recently called her a square, and in many ways it was probably true. She really envied the blonde girl's uninhibited passion for having fun whenever and wherever she could. And Lisa began to wish fervently that she had been the one on the bed, letting herself go, releasing all the pent-up sexual tensions that had been building up inside her for so long. Then she realized something else. Even now, she still recalled vividly her feelings at the sight of Joyce's slender legs flailing the air, of her magnificent hips gyrating in the throes of passion, of the blonde's full breasts rolling from side to side, of her rich red mouth moist with yearning. And Lisa knew that she had wanted to be naked on the bed--no? with Hugh, but with Joyce-making beautiful passionate unrestrained love to every part of the girl's lush, throbbing female body. She wanted to suck on the blonde's nipples until they grew stiff in her mouth. She wanted to put her head, her mouth, her lips where Hugh's had been, tasting the sweet nectar of her roommate. And, she wanted Joyce to shriek with delight and twist around on the bed and do the same thing with her.CHAPTER TWOLisa hurried through the misty night, her thoughts in turmoil. It was close to midnight. Few cars passed her, and no pedestrians seemed to be out in that area. Ahead of her, several blocks away, the lights of the downtown area glittered, seeming brighter as they reflected their multicolored neon in the glistening streets. She recalled vaguely there was an English-type pub she'd once passed. She came upon it suddenly, set down from the sidewalk. It was called THE COCK'N'BULL, and sounds of music and laughter filtered through its closed front door. She went down the steps leading to it and went inside.The place was crowded and warm. From somewhere in the rear of the place a man was hammering out melodies on an ancient piano, while men and women raised their tankards of ale and their voices in song. It was a warm, cheerful place, but suddenly Lisa knew it wouldn't do. A young curly-blond-haired fellow at the bar near the door made a motion with his head and invited her in out of the cold. But she merely shook her head no, and retreated. She had to go to some quiet place where she could think.She found it on a side street. It was a dim, dingy bar, and if it had a name, she didn't know what it was, and she didn't care. There were probably better and cleaner places, but they would be more crowded and noisier. Just at that point, Lisa didn't want any company. She wanted to warm her insides with a few drinks, and numb her brain to the scene she'd witnessed in the apartment between Joyce and the engineer. She still had an hour to kill before starting back. Maybe even that wasn't enough to satisfy her nymphomaniacal roommate, but it would have to do. She climbed up on a bar stool and when the bartender appeared she ordered a scotch and soda. She checked the money in her purse and discovered she had only about five dollars left. Damn! Fortunately much of Expo 69 was free, but she'd still had to eat out there and take the monorail around when her aching feet gave out. She should have taken some more with her when she was at the apartment. Except she had her rapidly dwindling resources hidden in the bedroom--which was very busy at the time.Well, that would give her five drinks anyway, which would probably be more than she could stand. When the scotch arrived, she gulped it down, letting the alcohol seep through her insides, warming them. In a moment, she could hardly tell the difference between the warmth produced by the alcohol and the warmth that was still tingling her loins in the aftermath of her spent passion. It was a good feeling, so she ordered another drink, but this time sipped it slowly. Her eyes were now accustomed to the dimness, and she looked around. It was apparently a neighborhood-type bar which held no interest for tourists. Men and women sat at the bar or huddled in dark booths. In back of the bar a radio was playing. She caught phrases of intermingled French and English from all around. She felt a prickly feeling, and looked up to see a fat male face smiling in her direction from the opposite end of the bar. The man nodded to her, but Lisa merely looked away. She gulped the remainder of her drink and pushed the glass forward on the bar. "I'd like another one of these," she said.By the time he'd brought it to her, the second drink had exploded inside her, sending warmth and numbness to every part of her body and brain. She began to feel very light-headed and knew she'd just about had her quota of booze for that night. One thing she was grateful for; her loins were finally calming down from the excited state they'd been left in back at the apartment. It generally worked. Whenever she started feeling sexy and didn't want to masturbate, she'd just take a few drinks to numb the sensations. Of course, Joyce had a much more direct solution for her own problem. Whenever she was in the mood--which seemed to be all the time--she'd just grab the nearest male and take him to bed with her. Lisa felt renewed disgust flood her at the thought. She didn't care if a man ever touched her again. They were just animals, thinking of their own lust, not caring about a woman as a human being. No, it was better to be an alcoholic than a nymphomaniac.She took another healthy gulp of her drink. When her eyes came up again, she found herself staring at her own image in the mirror directly behind the bar. For a moment, it was as though she were looking at a stranger. She was only twenty-six-years old, and her figure was just as full and firm and alluring as it had been when she was eighteen. All the men who'd tried to proposition, seduce or rape her would agree that she was a most attractive girl--even her stepfather who had succeeded one night during a fit of drunken passion.* * *Once, in her home town in upstate New York, she had been filled with hope and ambition. She had a good singing voice, she'd taken dancing lessons, she could fill out a stage costume the way it was supposed to be filled. Why not give Hollywood or the Broadway stage a try. Besides, she wanted desperately to leave home. New York, being closer, got the first--and only--crack at her. She arrived with very little money which soon dwindled to nothing. She took a part-time job so she could see agents and producers the other part of the day. But expenses were too great. She got a full-time job and took an apartment with Joyce, whom she'd met one day in a Times Square snack bar. Finally, she resigned herself to the inevitable. There were too-many other girls who were prettier, more talented, and willing to sleep with anybody to get ahead in show business. In desperation, Lisa herself had tried it. She hadn't enjoyed the frantic, sloppy pawings, and the producer--if he was one--never bothered calling her. She settled down into a rut so deep and long that sometimes she cried herself to sleep.One day Joyce announced she was going to Montreal. "How about coming along, Lisa. It's a real swinging town, especially with Expo 69."Lisa knew what Joyce meant by "swinging," for the blonde's nymphomaniacal tendencies would be difficult to hide if she'd tried--which she didn't. Lisa had enough money for the air fare and a month's stay. She was frankly tempted. New York represented failure to her, and she was rapidly growing to resent it. She wouldn't be able to get a vacation or a leave of absence from her clerk-typist job, of course--but it wasn't that good of a job to worry about. She might even find employment up in Canada if she could get a work permit. More importantly, it would be a change which she needed very badly. It might even be fun.And it was. Montreal was a beautiful city, like New York with its glistening buildings in many ways, but lacking the crowdedness. She enjoyed taking the bus up to Mount Royal lookout, where she could see the entire panorama of the city below, with its uncluttered skyline etched against the background of the St. Lawrence River and the blue sky. She loved to stroll through the downtown area, with its combination of gleaming-new buildings such as the Royal Bank Building in the area around St. Catherine and Peel Streets, mixed with old-style architecture as the City Hall, the Mary Queen of the World Basilica, interrupted by green oases of parks such as Dominion Square where she could sit, pretending to be a native, and watch the tourists.* * *She smiled at the face in the mirror, and the face in the mirror smiled back at her. It was a pretty face, framed by dark hair, with a nice nose, and full, generous lips. It was a face that longed for love and understanding. Montreal had been fun during the past several weeks. But it had been lonely, too.She tossed off the remaining drops of liquid in her glass, then inspected her purse, in case she'd been mistaken about the amount of money she had with her. She hadn't. But at least there was enough for one more. One for the road, as the lesser poets put it. "Another scotch and soda, bartender," she said.That's what she intended to say, but that's not precisely the way it came out. Her voice was slurry, and when the bartender came over he was unclear and indistinct. She'd had her warning long ago, she knew. She should have quit with the last drink, packed up her belongings and gone back to the apartment while she could still navigate. The incandescence in her loins had gone, replaced by a warm glow that had spread throughout her body, warming every nook and cranny. What harm could one more do, anyway? She wanted to just go home and pass out. Maybe then she wouldn't think about what Joyce and her boyfriend had been doing on the bed together. She made a face as she thought of it. Joyce was really nothing but a slut. No matter how lonely she felt, Lisa knew she'd never do that. She'd rather go to bed alone than have some male animal in heat putting his rough hands all over her body, squeezing her breasts, pulling apart her thighs, invading her with his lustful male body, grunting a couple of times--and then forgetting her."Can I buy you a drink, honey?" a syrupy voice said, beside her.She twisted her head to see who it was. The fat face that had smiled at her was closer now, still smiling. But his eyes weren't on her face at all. He was letting his gaze roam over her breasts, over the legs revealed in their creamy smoothness by her dress which had hiked up above her knees. Lisa felt revulsion fill her. "No," she told him. "Go away."He didn't go away. He got onto the stool beside her. "You needn't play games with me, honey," he said confidently. "At least," he added with a chuckle, "until we get up to my room. It's just a few blocks from here. You like scotch. Good. I got a bottle of the stuff up there. You and me can have ourselves a ball." He winked obscenely at her. "Maybe a couple of them."