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- Herausgeber: Olympia Press
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016
A gender-bending piece of strangeness, starring Taffy, the male but quite bisexual lead. We've just spent a month trying to figure out if, judging by the poems, Diane di Prima might have been involved. (No confirmations there...).
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Spring Fever
Marcus van Heller
This page copyright © 2005 Olympia Press.
CHAPTER ONE
The sky was lurid and overcast, seen through the leaded panes of the bedroom window. The wind touched supple tree branches and a soft rattle of dry leaves brushed against the house, scraping like fingers on a slate. Taffy sighed, stretching catlike on the bed, murky eyes brooding. Taffy Peacock.
No day is like another, he thought. They may seem the same, but they're different. Everything is different, everything changes. He drew his feet up and curled on Jolene's bed. He watched the sweet way she lit a cigarette, dainty and delicate in every poetic move. She looked at him, head cocked pertly, and blew smoke rings. She coughed with the smoke in her nose. She couldn't smoke.
He laughed; she fascinated him today, the sauciness of her. Outside it had begun to rain and the panes misted with the myriad droplets. She was fresh as rain. She was brown with the tawny look of a sea nymph, golden hair cascading down to her shoulders. The soft rise of her young bosom held his gaze. Her tits were barely covered by a flowered blouse that gaped open to the waist. The almost sight of them gave him a nagging erection. She watched him take it out of his pants and her hazel eyes grew wide and she giggled in the smoke.
“Oh, Taffy, you love me?”
“Of course I love you.” He looked at her and extended his arms. She put down the cigarette to smoulder and stepped gracefully to the bed. She wilted into his arms, kissing him, giggling softly. Her satin arms twined about him; he rolled her over, slid her skirt up and grinned down at her round eyes. She made an “O” with her mouth, feeling the cock sliding past the lips of her treasure. He fucked it in deep.
“Oooooo, Taffy—”
He chuckled, feeling her silky legs clinging to him, winding about his slender body. She arched her back and pushed sinuously against the prick: “Oooo, Taffy, you're a darling—-”
His hair curled over his forehead, bouncing with his excited movements; the bed squeaked in shrill rhythm, and the rain whispered.
“Sweet Jesus,” Taffy breathed, thrusting hard, “is this the first time—?”
“For us, yes.”
“I think something new is beginning. Don't you fee! it—a new cycle?”
She giggled, “I feel you. Do me hard—”
“I was talking about love.”
“But I love you.”
He kissed her and drove it in as she asked. “Fucking isn't love, not entirely.”
“But it's real. This feels real.”
He rocked her sideways, thrusting and squirming and she clung to him, sucking in her breath. Sliding velvet thighs against him. She put her feet, soles down on the bed on each side of his undulating body and bucked upward in tempo with his rhythm. They panted together and giggled together as he ground it into her furiously, then let up and leaned on his elbows, licking at her lips.
“Who else do you love?” he asked.
“Silvio, I guess.”
He rubbed his nose on hers. “He was here?”
“Last night.”
Taffy kissed her and jabbed the cock deep again, feeling her respond. She probably hadn't been fucked if it had been Silvio. He was notorious as a mouth-giver. Silvio went from girl to girl, crawling between surging thighs to whisper into heedless cunts. He talked to them and made love to them.
Taffy gazed down at her solemnly.
“Silvio doesn't love you—”
She giggled. “If you say so.”
He made the bed bounce, battering her cunt with the long pecker, sliding it in deep and withdrawing it nearly all the way to plunge it in again and again. Her golden head tossed on the bed, lips parted, tip of red tongue showing; a smile on her lovely face, eyes nearly closed. She was fifteen years old: “I never get enough of that—”
“And you won't, with Silvio.”
She giggled and squeezed his cock with her muscles, writhing and bucking slightly. She whispered, lips against his: “He made me come a thousand times.”
“I have virtues too.”
“I can feel one now.”
“Do you want me to suck you?”
She giggled again. “Of course, but not now, silly. I need this, I need it.” She held him as tightly as she could, legs locked about him, pushing up.
He whispered back. “What do you need?”
Giggles: “Fucking.”
He fucked her. “I think I'm gonna come—”
She kissed him with frantic tongue and held him even more tightly, increasing her delightful writhing and squeezing. Their bodies fused a ballet of squirming, panting ravishment.
“Oh yeah—” He breathed hoarsely, and shot it. It squirted in a gush bringing anguish and an agonized threshing that transmitted its agitation to her and she erupted suddenly. She moaned loudly and bucked wildly. Her legs went again about his lean body and locked, forcing the cock deep into her belly. She was beautiful, he thought, even as he twisted helplessly in the power of the mad sensation. Her cunt was a sucking mouth that had captured and eaten his cock. He felt it being eaten away, felt her jerking muscles working on it, chewing and masticating it. He spasmed against her, shuddered, and was still but for her continued writhing.
She kissed him tenderly and smoothed his mop of damp hair. “You're all virtue—”
“Huh?”
She giggled. “You fuck crazy.”
It made him laugh. He garnered the strength to push himself off her and rolled, belly up, on the bed. He closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling her slip down his form, felt her lips sliding up his cock, kissing it.
She said: “It's a dear little thing,” and she put it all into her mouth and sucked hard, rolling it about with her tongue. She put one knee between his and he pushed up with his leg and rubbed it against her slit; she wriggled her butt.
He sighed and looked down at her. She was shapely, soft and firm with the glow of youth, vigor, tanned and beautiful. She was eager, Jolene was eager to please, a lovely nymph. Her budding tits were bare to his gaze, waggling only very slightly as her head bobbed over the near-soft prick. He wriggled his fingers and she smiled around the cock. Slithering, she pushed her legs toward him and he slipped his finger into the satiny recess and toyed with it.
She licked the end of the cock. “Let's go find Silvio—”
He laughed: He wanted to be sucked. He pushed two fingers into her and wiggled them, mauling her clit. She shuddered and undulated her smooth hips. “Doncha want to?”
“Sure,” he said. He wouldn't mind being in bed with Silvio. Of course one had to listen to him. Sometimes Silvio bored him. “He might be at Thalia's.”
“Oh, Jeez—make me come—”
He teased her, jazzed her and tickled the clit. It was swollen and arrogant. He finger-fucked her, jiggling the clit as she sucked him. He made her come in minutes. She clutched the cock with both hands, leaning over it, eyes closed, bucking against the urgent fingers in a paroxysm of abandonment. She fell, face down in the froth of the bedsheets, moaning and convulsing. He tapered her off, playing the cunt like a violin, proud of his ability to keep her twitching and smiling in orgasm for long minutes.
He lit a cigarette and blew smoke to the ceiling as she got her breathing under control, then looked round at him with hooded eyes. He reached out and drew a finger through the pouting cunt once more and she jumped.
He said, “You still want to go?”
“OK.” She sat up blowing hair out of her eyes, stretched. “I'll put on a dress.” Slipping off the bed, she went to the shelves she used as a dresser. Finding a comb, she drew it through the golden locks and cocked her head at the mirror nailed to the wall. “D'you think I'm pretty?”
“Of course you are.” Taffy sat up and fingered his limp cock. He took it between thumb and forefinger and teased it, pulling it from hair to head, stretching it and massaging it. Jolene watched in the mirror. He moved the skin up and down, masturbating gently, slowly. Jolene turned:
“You want me to do that?”
He shook his head. “D'you like to do it alone?”
“Uh huh, sometimes.”
“It feels different, a lot different when someone else does it.” He hung his head over the end of it and pushed his tongue out, reaching. “I can't touch it—”
She giggled and slid to the floor between his thighs. Putting out her tongue, she licked it up and down the underside. The thing twitched.
“What would it feel like—taking it in your own mouth?”
She ducked her head quickly, took it between her lips and sucked hard, then released it. “It would feel like that.”
“Can you reach your cunt?”
She shook her head. “Huh uh, but I tried.”
“Wouldn't it be great if we could suck ourselves? Sweet Jesus, a new sensation! We'd go on the stage. God, what'd it feel like to come in my own mouth?”
She leaned on his thigh, nuzzling his balls, watching him diddle it. “Would you swallow it?”
“Sure.” He worked the cock up and down busily and it strengthened and became long and thick. “I'd just curl up on the bed and suck m'self all day and it'd go out one end and in the other. Perpetual motion.”
She giggled and tried to bite his balls. “You're crazy.”
He sighed, looking down at the red, velvety end of the prick, watching it bob about under his manipulation. “Jeez, this feels good. Lick the end of it a little bit once in a while—”
She put out her tongue and laved it. He hissed in. “Yeah, like that—”
“It tastes salty.”
“Some of that's from you.”
She reached down between her legs and brought up a wet finger, sniffed it. “Strawberry.”
He pulled the finger to his lips and licked it off. Smacked his lips.
She put the finger into her cunt again and gave it to him to suck.
“Cunt-berry,” he said.
She giggled. She slipped the finger down again and continued to diddle. “I got me all hot, Oooooo.”
He bit his lower lip, staring down at the proud thing. His fingers moved on it rhythmically, a steady tempo, up and down. She moved her cheek close, kissing the purple end of the cock as he masturbated.
“Ooo, it's hot,” she said.
“I think I can make it come in a sec—”
“Wait!” She frigged herself desperately, “I can't do it that soon.”
His face was red. “I—can't—wait—” he whispered.
Her lips came close to his. “Were you kidding when you said you wanted to swallow it?”
He could only shake his head, flogging himself hotly.
She lowered her mouth to the tumid head of it, opening her lips slightly, waiting. Taffy jacked-off into her mouth.
She squealed when it came gushing out, and closed her lips tightly about the entire end of it. He masturbated the shaft furiously. She did not help him, merely holding the cock between her lips, receiving the jism. He continued to work it, gasping and jerking luxuriously... losing the rhythm.
Then Jolene glanced up at him and slipped her mouth off the end of the wet prick. With her lips tight shut, she scurried up and pressed her mouth to his. They fell back on the bed. He held her tightly, taking her with him, on top of him... sucking the jism from her mouth. They transferred it in a hot, mad kiss, both licking and squirming. It tasted bitter, he thought, more so than any he had tasted before. He gulped it down.
They began to giggle together, kissing and licking.
Taffy turned her about and drew her over him. She straddled his face and he mouthed her hotly. She sucked on the long cock. They made each other come again.
CHAPTER TWO
Taffy was eighteen; he had not finished high school, he hadn't particularly cared one way or the other. His grades were always poor. He seldom studied.
At the age of eleven no one had inspired him except Willi Petrie. He and Willi had gone to the same school and had drifted together through some chemical attraction. They played, ran, talked, wrestled and quarreled together.
In a moment of deep juvenile secrecy, Taffy had confided to Willi that he had a cunt. Willi wanted to put his finger into it; later he put his cock into it, still later he mouthed it. He became Taffy's inseparable companion.
Taffy knew he was a freak. He had always known it, his parents had made so much of it at one time that he could hardly have felt otherwise. There had been innumerable visits to hospitals and probings by fascinated doctors. He had grown up with the curse—or blessing —and had grown used to it and it had hardly concerned him. His parents had made few moves to shield him; they decided to let Taffy run like other boys—it was determined he was mostly boy—and wait for the future. Perhaps the freakishness would be forgotten.
However, after a few hours of Willi's frantic lechery, Taffy was never the same again. The sensations were intense. Willi was feverish; and Taffy would undoubtedly have experienced the initial bud-breaking at some period. It happened to be Willi. Taffy's cock became very erect and hard, a disturbing factor which Willi tried to ignore but Taffy could not. He insisted on gratification of cock as well as cunt, and threatened to withhold sex-play from Willi if the gratification was not part of the play.
Willi's urges were strong. Once started he could not resist the secret meetings and masturbatory thrills. Over a short period of time, Willi became a cock-sucker. Taffy gave nothing but his body. He allowed his body to be used by his playmate in fucking, if the playmate would gratify him. This pattern was set early.
Once the play began to be determined in nature, and Taffy realized its extent, he cast his rogue's eyes about him. In his own bed at night he contemplated the additional thrills of other partners and he began to long for diversification.
Taffy had not yet really found himself; he was restless and flighty—like a girl. He gradually came to realize his power over Willi in all things because of the sex-play. And he quarreled with Willi, he required things of Willi and he laughed at Willi.
The trouble was, Willi could not satisfy him completely.
Taffy threatened to find another partner, which threats drove Willi into fits of pleading, passion and anger. And the threats drove Willi to commit marvels of frigging oscillation. Taffy nearly swooned in delight.
In secret, Taffy found another friend. He was an older boy, Ranee, who worked in a rollerskate palace. Ranee made the first move; he was attracted to Taffy and offered him free passes to the palace. He helped Taffy with skates, with skating, and bought him candy and pop. When no one was about, he took Taffy into the safety of the office and succeeded in unzipping Taffy's pants. He went down on Taffy in a more sophisticated fashion than Willi was doing. Taffy was crazy about it.
Ranee was black-haired, strong and not at all homosexual-looking—or what the common conception of such might be. Ranee wore leather jackets, talked loud and brashly, and he came to Taffy's home at night, waiting outside till Taffy would slip out to meet him. Ranee would then blow him frantically, again and again. The older boy was insatiable.
The time came when Taffy could not get a hard-on and Willi realized his friend had been drained—and they quarreled again.
Willi was astute enough to realize too that he had lost the game, after creating the monster. In revenge, he spread the word about Taffy.
Taffy suddenly had more solicitous friends than he knew what to do with. They flocked to his home after school and Taffy was held and raped in the garage. A half dozen boys availed themselves of the convenient cunt, gorging themselves, creeping home with cat smiles.
It was an instant scandal.
Taffy was guarded and immediately transferred from the public school to a private institution. He was made a ward of the State for his own protection.
The private school was the Addison House, a corrective institution, and Taffy was admitted in secrecy. No one was to know his situation but the Dean of the House. However, to comply with regulations, Taffy was forwarded to the local intern's offices and given a medical examination. The intern was young, Doctor Conger, a man with a pleasing smile and thoughtful countenance. Taffy liked him immediately.
Doctor Conger discovered the astonishing cunt and put Taffy on an examining table to further study it, and Taffy was not even aware when the prick entered him, thinking it another probe. Conger fucked him voraciously.
Taffy said nothing about the sex act because he was afraid he might be placed in a solitary situation; he might need the services of Doctor Conger in the future.
He was placed in a small, private room, a military-like cell devoid of pictures, with only one window. The room had a postage-stamp rug, a dresser, a single cot, a small mirror and a toilet in an alcove. He was locked in the first night. It was like being in jail, he thought.
The floor-warden, a man named Hedley, made a bed check at lights-out every evening. Hedley was tall and gaunt and feared by the dozen boys on the floor. At bed-check time he came into Taffy's cell and questioned him: “Why are you here?”
Taffy could not say, and had not anticipated the question.
Hedley became very insistent. He demanded to know, seeming to feel it his right to inquire into the reasons for each boy's presence. Taffy put him off until Hedley became enraged and struck him. Taffy gasped out his story as Hedley in actual fact pinioned his arms and twisted them cruelly. Hedley was then impatient to see the organ, stripped Taffy's clothes off and pushed him over the cot. The man felt the cunt, toyed with it, finger-fucked it, arousing himself and Taffy—and produced his own cock. He forced the big weapon into Taffy, fucking him hastily and lustfully.
He then proceeded to suck-off Taffy: “I've done this with a dozen of the boys—” And, aroused again, fucked the boy once more before locking the door behind him.
In the days that followed, Taffy went to lessons with many of the other boys, some sex-offenders, some thieves, some dope-users, and they became interested in Taffy because Taffy was excused from physical education though he was apparently in perfect health. The other boys also learned, by spying, that Hedley went into Taffy's cell each night instead of making the check by the tiny window provided. Knowing Hedley for what he was, they began to look at Taffy with extreme interest.
One of the boys was a gifted burglar, though young, and long after Hedley's bed-check, he and two others went to Taffy's cell and let themselves in. It took them considerably less time to discover Taffy's secret. Thereupon they raped him several times each and forced Taffy to suck them.
Taffy had never done that before. But in the next year, Taffy became an expert cocksucker. And at the Addison House he was able to enjoy sex at greater length and with less annoyance than he had before. In that respect, he was not deprived.
He ran away from the institution during a small fire that had broken out in a supply room and went to the nearest highway where he got a ride, and another, and finally one with a young married couple returning from a vacation.
The couple was very friendly, questioning him, sympathizing with him in the story he had prepared. They stopped at a motel and invited him to stay with them and he accepted.
The girl was Valerie, the man, Roger. After dinner they locked themselves in the motel room and the two, Valerie and Roger, undressed completely in front of the surprised boy and smilingly began fucking on the bed. Taffy had never seen such a thing, he knew little of girls, and he was fascinated and aroused. The girl's cunt was like his own. He went close to see. They grabbed him and undressed him, despite his giggles, and the girl embraced him provokingly.
“—Don't you like me—?”
“Of course.”
“Then come, lay on me.”
“I never did that to a girl.”
“You'll like it,” the man assured him, smacking him on the bare butt.
Taffy got on her, she put it in and he thrust. Now he suddenly know how Willi and all the rest had felt. The girl squealed as he fucked her wantonly. Upon completion of their fun she let him up reluctantly. Roger compared cocks with Taffy, they were almost the same, and Taffy was only twelve.
Roger then greased the prong and demanded that Taffy bugger him—which Taffy did without protest. Valerie looked on and clapped her hands in glee at Roger's ecstasy. She even wriggled under him accepting his cock between eager lips as Roger muzzled her cunt.
They got little sleep that night.
Taffy learned about girls from her, and went on to . other impetuous and exciting couplings.
When he was seventeen he met Judson Sills. Juddie took him to Haverhill.
Taffy stayed in Haverhill for several reasons. He was tired of traveling and in the little town he met a number of people who seemed compatible; also, because Judson kept him. Juddie was a male turned inward, slinky and actually lovely. He had auburn hair, long lashes and pale, sad eyes. He was tall, excitable and given to wearing women's clothes and underwear. Juddie loved the feel of silken things, velvet and the feel of Taffy. He so envied Taffy his cunt.
He wanted to eat Taffy alive.
CHAPTER THREE
Taffy quarreled with Judson, and moved out. It nearly broke Juddie's heart. And after only three months of delirious bliss.
Taffy took a room at number two-twenty-one Booker Street, upstairs in apartment five. The building was run-down, a cream-colored frame box with much of the plumbing on the outside, and owned by a woman whom no one ever saw. The manager was a hooked-nosed man named Brock Smith whom everyone called Arab.
Arab was really a poet, a manager through circumstances of poverty; a man of great good will. The woman whom no one ever saw wrote him constantly, scathing letters demanding overdue rents, rankling letters about unnecessary repairs, and moaning letters about the taxes. Arab was a beautiful person. He was tall and strong though not handsome in the movie sense. He had a strong face, a wiry, tanned body, and he owned nothing save a plaster bust of Socrates which someone had given him. He loved Taffy because Taffy would listen to his poetry. Taffy appreciated him, he felt. So few would listen.
They sat in Arab's barren apartment. “They're living too fast,” Arab said, waving his hands at the windows. “Their very hearts beat faster, like the hearts of little birds. So little is pure or sacred to them, the sheep. So little is beautiful to them, unless they're told. They have to be told.”
Arab sat on the floor, on a hooked rug that he had saved from a church welfare collection. It was the only rug in the apartment. There were posters on the walls and a Mexican serape hung over a door for color, but the furniture was meager and old. A few chairs and a dingy couch, yellow originally, but now tired. The place had the feel of poverty, real hard-core poverty. It was also ascetic and pure. The kitchen had no appliances, only a refrigerator which struggled from day to day and seemed forever on the point of giving up. One closed its door carefully lest it be taken as a slap. Arab swore that the old refrigerator resented a slammed door.
“They are paupers,” Arab said. “With all their money and cars and possessions and expensive women, they are only paupers—don't you agree?”
“I never thought of it that way,” Taffy said. “But you're terribly clever, I know that.” He looked lazily at Arab's mouth. It was full and richly red.
“That's flattery,” Arab said. “What do you want?”
“I want you to get horny.”
Arab laughed. His poems were scattered about the bare floor, some of them written on scraps of paper, some on sheets of blue-lined foolscap. Thalia had once given him a ream of foolscap.
“The trouble with you, Taffy—”
Taffy stirred on the couch, yawning and flexing his arms.
“I don't want to know my faults—if I have any. Spare me, sweet Jesus.” He pushed at the curl of hair that danced in his eyes and unzipped his pants. He flipped out his hardening cock. He waggled it, pink and round in the fading light, standing out from the dark pants like a fat little weenie.
Arab stared at it, smiling. He moved closer. “You're serious. You bastard, you're really serious!”
“Get horny—”
Arab chuckled softly and licked his lips. He slid close, between Taffy's legs, and nuzzled the cock with his cheek. He licked at it. The pink spike grew very hard quickly, almost jumping erect.
“Hello, baby,” Arab whispered to it. He took it in his mouth, sucking hard. Taffy squirmed on the chair, stretching out his legs, scissoring Arab. Unfastening his belt, he opened his pants wide and unbuttoned his shorts. In seconds he was naked almost to the knees. Arab slid both hands about Taffy's waist and held him firmly, sucking and licking the cock noisily and roughly.
Then Arab lifted the cock and balls, slid down and licked the cunt underneath. Taffy screamed out and yanked his knees high.
Arab grinned up at him. “Now you've got me horny.”
“S'bout time,” Taffy breathed. He watched Arab with bright eyes, mouth open, teeth gnawing his lower lip now and then. When Arab ducked his head to the cunt, Taffy's mouth opened wide and he hunched his shoulders. When Arab teased the cunt, Taffy made little high-pitched sounds.
Arab's hand manipulated the quivering cock and his mouth concentrated on the wet cunt; then he unzipped his own pants. A long, beautiful cock leapt out. Taffy's bright eyes fastened on it and he smiled. When Arab moved closer and got to his knees, Taffy almost held his breath. When Arab put the lovely cock at the door he looked expectant—and Arab pushed gently. Taffy moaned and squirmed on the chair as the cock moved into the sopping cunt. Arab fucked it in a little at a time, smiling at Taffy knowingly, watching for response.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Taffy breathed, “gimme it, gimme it—” He held his knees up. He stared at Arab's mouth, wanting it. Arab leaned closer and kissed him tenderly.
The prick sank in deeply and Taffy gasped. It stretched him tight; he could feel the precious thing inside him, throbbingly alive. He ground his teeth and moaned in luxurious anguish. Arab fucked him steadily and lovingly, holding him on the chair. Then he bent his head and licked the end of Taffy's dong. Taffy giggled happily.
With the cock deep in him, Taffy was deliciously female, or so he seemed to himself. For an interval he could think as a female; and the change was curious, he never failed to marvel at it. Each time he was fucked this subtle change crept over him, flooding his being. He had grown to expect and to love it.
Taffy was nearly helpless. He squirmed on the chair, responding to Arab's heated prodding, to Arab's voracious mouth. He drifted into a love-dream of swooping and gliding excitement, kissing and wanting. Arab's loving cock was an eager piston, urging and impelling, inciting both. It was poetry in driving turmoil, a bringer of storms. Taffy threshed and gasped, feeling the far-off welling of fiery sensation. Arab's hot cheeks bent; knowing that Taffy was beginning to come, he sucked the throbbing cock desperately to bring Taffy on faster. He manipulated the root of it with sensitive fingers, milking the orgasm, nursing it.
Taffy rubbed breasts that he did not have, and gasped air in agitation. The rapture seized him, shook him and made him scream in release. He rocked on the chair, thrusting wildly with his spouting organ. Arab's penis joined them, held them together; the molten gobs spat. Arab gulped them and swallowed furiously, milking the throbbing cock as he fucked the pulsating cunt.
Taffy writhed in pain, groaning his delirium as hot irons seemed to brand his brain and twist it into helplessness. Arab sucked and pulled at the cock, mauled it, knowing what Taffy felt. Arab's face was hot, nostrils dilated, as he squeezed his own balls pleasurably, working the foaming prick. He tapered off the writhing Taffy, easing the prick in and out, slower, lovingly. Mouthing the weakening cock, loving it and licking it, kissing it.
Taffy ceased to struggle, twitching spasmodically as the frenzy subsided. Then Arab withdrew the long cock and Taffy mourned, unable to prevent it. Taffy sagged on the chair, hanging his head and watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Arab sank back on his haunches, still between Taffy's thighs. Taffy licked dry lips, wanting the cock that Arab was flogging. Arab was masturbating the swollen organ lustfully, panting and sweating with the energy, pushing his dark head toward the purple head of it, reaching out his tongue. His fingers flew on the shaft, the tumid thing bobbed and appeared to grow in size. Arab squeaked and the milky stuff squirted; he made a strange little sound, opening wide his lips, stretching his head toward the spitting cock. The gobs smeared his lips, clotted his red tongue, spattered his cheeks. Arab relished it, smacking his lips, working the prick desperately—and slowly crumpled.
As he fell, Taffy scrambled from the chair and scurried to reach the wanton cock, forcing the smeary thing between maddened lips, sucking it sensuously. Arab groaned and jerked, almost choking on Taffy's jism. The two sucked each other in frantic lunges, legs writhing.
Then the wild twitching passed; Arab clutched at Taffy's legs with near-dead fingers pulling the slighter body toward him. They settled into a gorging feast of loving satisfaction, lying on their sides on the hooked rug.
CHAPTER FOUR
Taffy is my life to me. Oh, my God, how I love him. And hate him at the same time. No, I do not hate him —but he drives me to despair. He uses me. He lets me love him and casually he wanders off, unconcerned and uncaring. Yes, he lets me love him, lets me, allows me. His body is not mine, he loans it because I give him pleasure. Then he forgets. He has a hard little heart, no one knows how cruel he is. Everyone loves Taffy, they say, but no one really knows him but me. Taffy is cruel.
I am Judson Jakov Sills. My middle name was my mother's maiden name, and she branded me with it. Had I been older I would have discarded it, but she wrote it out, even proudly, at the school and it has followed me like a canker and seared me. I have never lived it down. The boys at school called me by it: “Jack-off,” they called. It sounded like jack-off and they loved the sound with their evil little minds.
When I was seven, slight and red-headed, they would gang up on me, taunting me with the name. I ran, what else could I do? And they yelled that I ran like a girl. When I defended myself feebly from their constant attacks on the school grounds, they said I fought like a girl. They even said I talked like a girl... unfortunately my lisp was pronounced. Now it is under control because I have learned. When I was slightly older they ganged up on me and hustled me into alleys, into empty garages, into any secluded place and held me down. They would open m [...]
