Chapter 4

Romo was tired the following morning. It made sense. Romo always felt exhausted after a night of fucking or supervising the copulation of others. The job took a lot out of him, physically and emotionally,, and now-as he drank his second cup of coffee-it was eleven-thirty A.M. and time for more work. Fortunately, he was able to turn his energies (such as they were) to the less strenuous task of drafting classified ads.

Advertisements were of immense importance to Romo’s operation. Word-of-mouth helped a great deal, of course, but advertising was the primary means of communication between Romo and potential GSI members. Romo placed numerous ads in the personal columns of Screw and the various other sex tabloids. Some of the ads were subtle, and some were not; it all depended on the sexual topic at hand and what sort of customer (shy or openly sex-crazed) he was attempting to reach.

Romo’s first ad of the morning was aimed at people who were hung up on black-white sex relations. Its language was discreetly frank:

INTERLIACIAL FRIENDSHIP CLUB open to all who share the belief that eroticism is a gift to be shared by people of all colors. Discussions, lectures, demonstrations, audience participation. Details from P.O. Box 8881, Sophie Tucker Sta., NYC 10099.

Interracial sex ads always drew a stack of replies; Romo estimated that there were thousands of New Yorkers who, out of myth hangups or curiosity, were hot to make it with members of another race. It was usually a matter of whites wanting to do it with blacks; the ratio of white to black responses was about two hand a half to one. Orientals were an insignificant factor, though a few men-usually Vietnam veterans-wanted to make it with Asian women. American Indians hardly ever replied, though an occasional white woman (middle-aged, as a rule) inquired about the possibility of being fucked by a “hung Navajo” or a “gentle but manly Apache type.” Odd, but true.

Romo had difficulty in locating suitable black partners for his white customers, since he didn’t deal in ghetto types and the educated blacks seemed to resent GSI recruitment on the grounds that Romo regarded them as “sexual objects.” Thus black GSI members found themselves several times as active in the group as their white counterparts, which was fine with them but worrisome to Romo, who feared that members might become stale from excessive orgy participation.

The second ad to come from Romo’s typewriter was sadist oriented. There were a lot of people who went in for s-and-m, and the number of replies from sadists was almost equal to the inquiries from masochists who were looking for a good stomping, whipping or whatever. Romo used the traditional bondage keywords in this ad:

STERN DISCIPLINARIANS needed to meet with passive men and women who feel that to spare the rod is to spoil the fun. Educated males and females only. Bisexuals O.K. Reply to P.O. Box 7942, Sophie Tucker Station, NYC 10099.

Romo maintained a number of post office boxes under various aliases. He used any of several postal stations within reasonably comfortable walking distance from his apartment. He picked a different station for his ad aimed at anally fixated homophiles:

GUYS WHO LIKE GUYS-Why not meet Mr. Right in the privacy of a luxurious bachelor pad? I provide the partners, you provide the fun. B.Y.O.K.Y! I’m talking about guys who like assholes, blow jobs, hand jobs, the works, but assholes-ah, sweet dimples of lust!-in particular! You must be clean, well educated, and willing to work for the sexual betterment of a like minded group. No introverts, please. Send photo and personal data to P.O. Box 438, Father Hill Station, NYC 10097. All inquiries will remain confidential!

Romo was sure that the authorities were after him, hence the fictitious names, His primary worry, however, was that postal inspectors might get wind of his operation and harass people who replied to his ads.

Thus he was very careful in establishing new post office box numbers. He always tried to deal with a clerk who wouldn’t recognize him, and on occasion he hired other people-hippies, GSI members, friends-to rent the boxes for him. He hadn’t been nabbed or harassed yet, and he hoped things would remain as safe and relaxed as they had been so far.

Screening the replies to his ads was a pain in the ass. A large percentage of the replies were from crackpots and freaks. Romo had no desire to deal with such people. “I run an organization for respectable men and women,” he liked to say, and his customers were indeed reputable for the most part if one overlooked their sexual proclivities. Romo believed, doubt correctly, that letting the freaks into his or would increase the likelihood of exposure and ultimate arrest.

Romo sighed as he went to work on the final ad of the morning. It was aimed at voyeurs, specifically those peepers who dug stag films. It was a triumph of copywriting talents:

CINEMA BUFFS, UNITE! We’ve got the movies-all we need now is the audience, and that means you! See stag flicks, vintage and contemporary, in congenial surroundings with like minded adults. This is a private club, and we can show you the finest erotic movie material available today. Our stuff is hotter than anything you’ll see on 42nd Street and of infinitely greater quality than anything you can order by mail. You’ll be able to enjoy these classic film works in an audience situation; what you do in the screening room, whether it involves masturbation or making new friends, is entirely up to you! This ad is NOT aimed at derelicts child molesters and dirty old men-rather, it is intended to appeal to those educated, sexually liberated adults whose interests are centered on the silver screen. Reply in confidence to Box 1940, Warren Harding Sta., NYC 10092.

Romo was tired. Writing advertisements might not be strenuous, but it was fatiguing. It wasn’t yet noon, and he had been awake for only an hour and a half, but Romo was sorely tempted to go into the bedroom and take a well-earned nap. Instead, he found himself once again reviewing his earlier years… thinking back… There was a certain joy and a certain sorrow in doing that…

There he was, a high school student, and he was going to get his first piece of ass. Oh, it hadn’t been promised to him, but he knew he was going to get it. No doubt about it. Luline, a sixteen-year-old bundle of nymphomaniac desires, was going to spread her legs for him. It was a sure thing, as sure as subzero weather in a Minnesota January.

He knew about Luline. Everybody did. There were a good two dozen guys who said they’d fucked her; and Romo had no reason to doubt their stories. Luline was the kind of girl who looked like she did it… She walked sexily and wore short skirts; she let her knees fall open when she sat in class and she licked her lips whenever she chatted with a male teacher or one of the more self-assured boys. Romo had asked her out, and she’d accepted. There wouldn’t be anymore petting or finger fucking, not tonight. A bit of foreplay, perhaps, but it wouldn’t take Romo long to jet down to basics. Fucking. That was what Luline was all about. She was a fucking machine, a hunk of meat with a gaping pussy in it, and he was going to luck her for all that she was worth.

Romo picked her up at seven and took her to a movie. The film was Dracula Meets the Lizard Man, and it was an artistic disaster. But it turned Luline on and that was what mattered. Romo had heard about her fondness for monster movies, of how she squirmed and giggled every time a reptilian creature slithered across the screen. Phallic symbolism? Romo didn’t know. He was a teen-age boy, not a Freudian psychiatrist. What he did know was that he was going to fuck her, probably within an hour or two.

They had cokes at Morrie’s Milk Bar when the show was over, and they headed for Luline’s car. Lune had to do the driving, since Romo didn’t have his license yet, but neither of them cared. Luline drove slowly, provocatively; Romo felt like crying “Go faster!”, like telling her to speed to the local lovers’ lane t they could fondle, pant and fuck.

Luline didn’t have any doubts as to her own place in Romo’s plans, fortunately. She reached the wilderness preserve in due course and parked as if she’d done it a million times before. She probably had, Romo thought with mixed jealousy and amusement. It was funny, but he didn’t like the thought that she’d slept with so many other guys. Maybe it was because he hated to face the fact that she was more experienced than he.

“Hi,” she said, turning to face him. She was grinning.

“Hi.”

“I guess you wanted to park, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

Luline giggled. “I’ll bet you’ve heard a lot about me.”

“I sure have.”

“You must think I’m terrible.”

“God, no. I think you’re great!” Romo said it so intensely, so sincerely, that he blushed a second after he’d uttered the words. It sounded so adolescent. So goddamned dumb.

Luline licked her lips. The old telltale sign, thank God! “What do you want me to do?’ she asked.

“I want you to undress,” he said.

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugged. “Are we going to do it here or on the ground?”

“We’ll get dirty if we do it outside the car,” Romo said.

Luline laughed in a way that said Romo was lacking in something-namely, experience. “There’s a blanket in the trunk, stupid,” she said with a wry smile.

Romo was steaming. The girl was trying to make an ass out of him! Still, she wanted to be fucked. She wouldn’t have come here with him if she wasn’t eager. “Give me the keys,” he muttered. He took the key ring from her and went to the trunk, where he removed the blanket and spread it out under a nearby tree. In the moonlight he could see the numerous stains from previous escapades. Indeed, the blanket felt stiff in spots, its wool hardened by God knew how many gobs of starchlike semen.

Romo looked around. Luline was already undressing. She had her sweater off and was fiddling with her bra. Romo moved to help her, but she had the strap unhooked before he could reach her. She shrugged the brassiere off her tits casually, as if to remind him that she’d done it a hundred times before. Romo’s cock tingled as he saw her breasts. They weren’t fantastic, their shape wasn’t anything to write home about, but the quantity was something else. They were big, with soft nipples that spread across two inches of flesh at the outermost point of each breast. There was nothing aesthetic about them, and they’d never get into a photo magazine, but they were female. Very female. They were the kind of big, floppy breasts that a fellow could dream of sucking, of sticking his cock between and sliding back and forth till the jism started to flow.

“I-” He was going to compliment her on the magnificence of her breasts, but he stopped himself just in time. She’d merely think him naive. Romo kept his mouth shut and watched as Luline stepped out of her short plain skirt to reveal a cotton half-slip. The petticoat came off quickly, and Romo’s guts began to churn as he saw the bulge in her panties where the fabric was strained by an excess of something… labia? Pubic hair?

Luline didn’t waste time on seductive nonsense. She pulled the briefs off quickly, and Romo saw what he’d been waiting for. Hair, tons of it, a multitude of curls that grew from the hidden recesses of her crotch up to a point not far below her navel. She had the bushiest twat that Romo had ever seen; he didn’t know a girl could be so hairy. It made him uncomfortable at first; was she part male? Was there something unfeminine about a girl who had so much pubic fur?

Luline was laughing. At him.

“What’s so funny?’ he asked angrily.

“I’m laughing at the way you’re staring at me,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you look so shocked.”

Bitch! “Maybe I am a little shocked,” he allowed.

“Sorry.” She was still laughing. “Look, maybe you’d better get your own clothes off if we’re going to do you-know-what.”

Romo cursed silently but did as she suggested. He almost ripped his shirt off, tossing it onto the forest floor without thinking that it might get dirty. He kicked off his brown loafers, unzipped his jeans, stripped down to his shorts as quickly as she’d gotten to her panties. His briefs were bulging with the enormity of his erection, and she could hardly wait to set the cock free. Bitch! he thought again, as he inserted his fingers in the waistband and pushed downward, drawing the shorts over his hips and bringing his cock, all seven-and-a-quarter inches of it, into view. He waited for her reaction. There wasn’t any to speak of. She was eyeing his prick with interest, but she didn’t seem particularly impressed. Well, fuck it. Romo kicked his shorts to one side and motioned to the blanket. Silently, he dropped to his knees, cursing to himself once more as he felt the stiff spots and saw the stains, and he watched with trembling cock as Luline came over and knelt beside him on the blanket.

“Kind of eager, aren’t you?” she said as she nodded toward his cock. Romo flushed proudly and reached out to grasp her right fit. Luline didn’t resist as he pinched the nipple between two fingers and rubbed it to hardness. Nor did she object when he let go of the breast and moved his hand to her crotch, which he explored slowly, his fingertips creeping from the thatch of her pubic mound to the moist slit between her thighs.

Romo grinned as he slipped an inch of finger into her cunt. “Kind of eager yourself, aren’t you?” He felt a curious quivering just beneath the head of his cock.

He was ready to fuck her, and he was on the verge of doing just that when she pushed him away. “Not yet,” she said.

“Why not?” His cock was aching with need.

“Eat me first”

“Oh, shit-“

“I always insist that the boy eat me before we screw. Sorry, but it’s one of my rules.”

The bitch! She was trying to humiliate him with her constant reminders that he wasn’t the first. And she wanted him to eat her pussy Hell, he didn’t mind that, and he rather liked the idea of sucking her cunt because of his relative lack of experience in that area, but he didn’t like being told what to do. “Let’s fuck,” he said thickly, trying to shove her onto her back.

“No!” She slapped him. Slapped him! Romo couldn’t believe it.

“Holy-” he began, but she cut him off with another light slap to the mouth. She was laughing at him, her eyes sparkling tolerantly, and Romo was incensed.

“Eat me,” she ordered again, lying back with her legs spread wide. “We’ll fuck in a little while.”

Romo held his breath. He couldn’t rape her; he could go to jail for that, right? He’d heard of guys being thrown into prison for fucking women who’d been, eager at first but who’d changed their minds midway through the proceedings. He wanted to fuck her, had to fuck her, and there was only one way that he could count on doing it. That, alas, was to do as she insisted. He had to eat her. “Okay,” he muttered. The bitch!

Angrily, Romo fell to his knees and elbows and prepared to go the oral-genital route. He brought his face near her pussy and took a deep sniff; she smelled like… well, like a female. She was hot for it, there was no doubt about that, Romo paused briefly, hoping she’d beg him to get on with it, but she didn’t say anything. The bitch was still trying to humiliate him; still, he had to go on…

“Ah!” She gasped softly as Romo pressed his mouth to her cunt. Romo’s tongue slid into the fissure and held the inner lips apart while he used his upper lip to rub the sensitive clit. He felt her thighs tighten about his head, and he stuck his tongue even deeper into the slit so he could savor the taste of her fresh, abundant juices. There was something faintly fishy about the flavor, but he didn’t mind it at all; on the contrary, he found it exciting, and he felt an even greater need to stuff his cock into her snatch.

“Higher,” she said after a while. “Lick my clit. With your tongue.” Romo stiffened; she was still giving commands! Here she was, trembling with desire, and she had the presence of mind to give him orders! Still, Romo knew better than to object; he pulled his tongue from her labia and moved it upward to the exposed knob of the clitoris, lapping at the oversized organ until he heard a long, racking noise and felt her pubic bone press against his face as she lifted her ass off the blanket. Well, he was showing her. She might be more experienced than he, but he had the inborn talent to give her a hell of a good licking.

Romo kept at her. Tongue on clit, teeth scraping against the flesh where the shaft disappeared into her pubic mound, fingers sliding into pussy, single finger of other hand stroking her perineum and asshole, hot breath bathing her entire genital region in humid warmth…

Shit, she was responding! Really responding. He could see her writhing beneath his moving mouth, could feel her fingers digging into his scalp. So she thought she could humiliate him, eh? Well, he’d show her who was boss Tongue into cleft. He was stroking her cut with two fingers, now, alternately rubbing and strumming it as he forced his tongue deeper and deeper into her juice-drenched cunt. He loved the taste of her, loved the stench of her juices, the stench that tickled his nostrils almost to the point of irritation but not quite, loved to stroke her, to stick his tongue in her, to feel her asshole and to think of how he was going to fuck her in a very, very short time.

“Yes!” she moaned. “Oh, yessssssss!’ Her voice dissolved into a hiss as he slathered saliva over her cunt. Shove! Yeah, he drove them as deep as they’d go. Her vaginal sphincter gripped the fingers, and when he pulled his hand away her cunt seemed reluctant to let go. I’m going to lick your asshole, he told her silently, and so he did. He pushed her legs farther apart and used both hands to spread her anal cheeks so that he could slide his tongue into the cleft of her ass. He tickled her perineum with his tongue tip leaving a trail of saliva as he did so; then he stabbed the tongue against the tight dimple itself, soaking the crimped-opening with vast gobs of spittle. Take that, he thought as he cleared his throat noisily and spat yet more saliva into the space between the cheeks. She was whimpering now, begging him to fuck her. “Now!” she cried. “Fuck me!” she shrieked a moment later when he continued to lick her asshole. No sweat, he thought; he was going to fuck her, all right, but when he was good and ready. The tables had been turned, and now it was she who was doing the begging. Well, let her beg some more. Let her wheedle, whimper, beg, wheeze, groan… shit, he felt like forcing her to give him a blow job. But no. He didn’t want to come in her mouth, not yet. He just wanted to fuck her.

Ah. He’d pulled his tongue from her asshole and was about to stick it back into her pussy when she surprised him by blowing a fart. He was turned off at first-Christ, to think he’d licked her there a moment ago-but after a moment’s thought he found it rather amusing. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be shitting all over the place after a couple more licks. No more asshole licking, he cautioned himself; it was back to the cunt where the smells and flavors were more to his liking.

“Oh, God!” She was whimpering, and her tone pleaded for him to fuck her. Romo stabbed four fingers-four whole fingers-into her twat and spread he opening as wide as he could make it go. Luline cried out in pain and begged him to stop. Romo, amused, only hurt, her more. He forced a fifth finger into the pussy, spread the sphincter until he was certain she’d burst, and only when he saw the tears running down her cheeks did he pull them out.

“Sorry,” he muttered in a sudden burst of shame. He was relieved when he saw that she stopped weeping and went back to normal once his fingers went back to massaging her clit. She was writhing again, lifting her ass up in the air with her legs parted wide and her cunt glistening in the moonlight and the stench of her juices assaulting his nostrils and…

“Fuck me!” she begged yet again. Romo, his cock suddenly burning with unfulfilled desire, made the snap decision to obey, He’d fuck her, all right, but only because he was ready at last. He was doing it for his benefit, not for hers.

“All right,” he said softly as he rose halfway and crawled forward so that his prick came within inches of her cunt.

There was a way of doing this, he thought as he stared down at his swollen cock. He lowered himself into the missionary position and used his left hand to balance his weight as his right hand moved to the cock and aimed it in the direction of Luline’s pussy. He rested the cock head against her pubic fur, then moved it downward until it slid into the waiting vestibule of her labia. The lips were wet and warm and the sensation was completely fantastic, Overwhelming, that was the word for it. He hadn’t even fucked her yet, was only on the verge of sticking it in her, but he was feeling great already. This was going to be quite a night.

“Fuck me!” she screamed, thrusting her hips forward and upward, catching him by surprise. A good three inches of cock was in her before Romo knew what was happening, and he almost fell off balance as she began to pump back and forth on his organ.

“Jesus,” Romo took stock of the situation and felt a tremendous surge of relief. She’d done it for him, she’d saved him the worry of wondering just how to handle his first fuck. Suppose he’d made an ass of himself as he put it in?… God, how embarrassing it would have been! Or what if I’d shoved it in too far, too fast, and broken her mood?… That, too, would have been a disaster.

Romo fucked her now, steadily and powerfully, and he rose high on his arms as he rode her so that he could look down at her, could see her heaving tits and the contorted features of her face. She was breathing hard, punctuating each breath with gasps and grunts; an occasional moan came out of her chest to tell her of her fantastic need, and her cunt seemed to become tighter and tighter as they humped toward orgasm. She needed him, needed him badly. She was gripping him with her vaginal sphincter, crushing him as tightly as she was able, and now, as he felt her cunt tremble around his prick, he knew that she was at the brink of climax…

Well, fuck her! Or, rather, cease fucking her, he thought as he pulled his cock from her pussy-just in time. “Who’s boss now?” he muttered so softly that she couldn’t hear him. He watched her writhe angrily, laughed as she cried out in frustration. She’d been on the very edge of ecstasy, and he’d pulled out of her. Romo, not Luline, was king of the mountain now.

“Why?” she asked. “Why, oh God, why?” She made a grab for his prick, presumably in an attempt to shove it back in, but Romo knocked her hand away.

“Not yet,” he said, chuckling cruelly. “In a little while.” Those had been her words, hadn’t they? In a little while. Let the chick suffer a little, let her beg for his cock. If she wanted him, she’d have to plead. He’d show her who was boss.

“Bastard!” she muttered, She glared at him, showed her teeth to him, tried to slap him but was stopped by Romo’s hand on her wrist. “You son-of-a-bitch,” she hissed. Romo, still in control of the situation, only laughed.

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, “when I’m good and ready,” He laughed again, holding his cock in one hand and waving it at her as if to mock her. “Want to suck it? Want to get it all nice and wet, huh?” He was being vulgar, incredibly vulgar, but what the hell! She was a bitch, wasn’t she? The bitch!

Suddenly Luline began to cry. She started with a few tears that trickled out of each eye and glistened on her cheeks, but within seconds her whole body was jerking with powerful sobs, and her hands flew up to cover her face. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t complain, but Romo knew why she was crying. He wanted to laugh at her, but a sudden twinge of compassion prevented him. He saw her right hand move from her cheek to her belly; when she reached for her cunt, he knew that she was going to try and finish up by herself. “No,” he said thickly, seizing her wrist and forcing the hand back to her face. “We’ll finish the regular way.”

Slowly, less angrily now, Romo moved over her for a second time and let-his cock head slide around her thigh and pussy until it settled in the appropriate spot. He thrust forward quickly and decisively; Luline, her entire body trembling, uttered a cry of delight as five inches of meat slid deep inside. Romo fucked steadily, his rhythm unaffected by Luline’s writhing or by the jerking spasms of her Cunt. She had one climax, then lay gasping while he fucked her until her vaginal sphincter began to shudder once again (Romo could feel it), and finally twitched in a second orgasm. Romo grinned; he was good, and he knew it. And, just as important, he was boss.

“Come,” she begged as she nibbled on his shoulder. She was pulling him close to her, and her fingers were running up and down his spine. “Squirt it into my guts!”

That did it. At the word “squirt,” Romo slammed forward with all his strength, building up momentum with each thousandth-of-an-inch until his forward progress was suddenly stopped by the rear wall of her cunt. Romo then went into reverse, sliding backward till his cock almost fell out; another thrust, another reverse, and the heat built up in his cock head and in the flesh just below the knob and finally, wonderfully, uncontrollably, the jism came out of his balls and prostate and forced its way through the urethral canal until he was spewing it, firing it in rhythmic bursts, into the slippery recesses of Luline’s cunt.

“Christ!” he cried, as if the orgasm were the result of some divine inspiration. “Holy mother of… shit!”

He shot the last gob of the stuff into her, and then he let his body sink onto her belly and rest there until she finally begged him to roll off so that she could get her breath.

“Was it nice?” he asked a few minutes later.

“Yes.” She was still breathing hard-and he was too.

“I’ll bet you thought I was a first-timer,” he said.

“Yes, I did.”

Romo laughed.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” he lay there, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand, not caring that the blanket beneath him was stiffened from a score of ejaculations. He was boss, wasn’t he? He was the conqueror, the first-timer who’d made a nympho plead.

“Romo?”

He glanced at her. “Yeah?”

“I don’t understand you.”

“Why not?”

She smiled uncertainly. “I don’t understand why you’re so cruel.”

Romo laughed. It was a long laugh, a loud one that came from deep in his belly.

“Why are you laughing?” she asked.

Romo looked at her for a moment, then stopped laughing and grinned. “I guess it’s because-” He paused and thought for a moment. “I guess it’s because-I don’t understand it myself.”

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