Bill E. Balle
Passion's Her Game
The body of the man, with all its soft, flabby bulk, pressed upon Toni She could see his eyes glowing. She backed up and was stopped by falling against a tree. The hands were at her breasts as the voice whined piteously and the heavy body, heavier still with the acrid odor of booze, moved closer again.
"Be nice, baby!" mumbled the voice in the dark. "Be nice to Big Benny! It's been a long time…" Toni wished she could scream, wished she could slash out at that bloated face with her nails. But her pert, tight young body was a helpless mass against the onslaught, against the searching, feverish hands.
"I was watching you on, the bus, honey. I know why you got off here in Hoboken. You ain't goin' to Hoboken. You got off before New York 'cause you knew Big Benny was watchin' ya'. And you knew I'd get off too, right? 'Cause you want Big Benny to fuck ya', right? Well get a hotel room and… "
The big, fat penis sprung out of his soiled pants. "Here, feel this. Look what Big Benny's got for that little twat of yours. This here salami is why they call me Big Benny. What the hell you look so scared for? You was givin' me those fuck-eyes of yours on the bus, wasn't ya'? "
"No. I got off the bus because you was watching me!" Toni gulped out the words.
A New Jersey State Trooper car pulled up to the curb, lights flashing. A flashlight shone on the big tree.
"You all right, Miss?"
In an instant the big crummy-looking man was gone.
Toni had come to New York to escape from what her father and mother had become-a pair of sex maniacs at age forty.
She could still remember-as if it were yesterday-how she had unexpectedly returned from high school and caught them, her father's massive prick firmly embedded in a neighbor-woman's sopping cunt while her mother beat him with a stiff riding crop. What Toni, at nineteen-years-of-age, couldn't figure out was why the memory both delighted and haunted her.
Now, here she was, a hick of a girl from the Midwest, with little money and no job, a wide-eyed virgin living in a flea-trap hotel in New York. In fact, the hotel was more of a brothel than anything else. There were hookers in almost every room, and the whole establishment was catered by a madame of huge proportions.
Then out in the hallways one morning, a towel over her arm, she was introduced to the busty madame of the hotel. Toni suspected that it had all been arranged, the old desk clerk "just happening" to be up on the third floor, and the madame "just happening" to be down from her nest of rooms on the fifth floor.
"Talk, you two. Maybe…just maybe you can help each other. This is a tough city to make it in by yourself," the old desk clerk said, blowing his nose. "I'll leave you alone…go ahead…talk."
They went back into Toni's room, and shortly they were talking like old friends and Toni was learning about all the perversions known to mankind, how much they were willing to pay for them, and that most of the girls under the madame's wing had good educations and were from good families.
"So why do they need to be prostitutes?"
"It's a compulsion, deary," the woman had explained. "Either they're keeping a lover-usually another girl-or they hate men and this is one way to make them pay. Some of them just want to get back at their families-even though the families rarely know about it."
Toni suddenly realized what category she fit into. Every time she thought of her father and mother, she had to close her eyes and rake her mind clean of the ugly scene.
"Oh, there are hundreds of reasons," the madame went on, "but I don't bother myself with them any more. I just know I have to have nice clean college types on call at all times."
"Why?" Toni stroked at her blonde hair, intensely interested in the bizarre conversation. There was a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach, and a not unpleasant ache in the depths of her crotch. She was familiar with the feeling-it had always made itself known whenever the other kids in high school talked about sex. But the other girls did something about it. Toni didn't. Petting in drive-in movies was about the limit of her experience, and that, among other things, had earned her a reputation of "a righteous square."
"Well, deary, I'll tell you. My clientele is high class, famous people or big businessmen. When I send a girl out, she's got to be able to talk intelligently, have good manners, be the kind of girl the client would never have to apologize for if he's seen with her. A girl like you, with class. My gals aren't just whores, Toni. Never mind what the lousy hotel looks like. They get a hundred bucks for a whole night's entertainment: they go to good restaurants, dancing at smart nightclubs. They've got to know how to really entertain a man in and out of bed-and know what to do with a stiff cock. At a hundred clams a night, who wants to be a typist or secretary at a lousy seventy-five a week? It's dumb! You're not dumb, are you deary? And my girls are clean! No clap…I send them to the doctor once a month for a checkup. All I need is for one of my customers to get a dose from one of my girls, and then we all get hell from the fuzz. I've got a reputation to uphold! You clean?"
"I'm…clean," Toni said, and almost added and untouched by human hands, but thought she'd better not. She was almost resigned to her fate already.
"Good. I'll send you along with one of my girls to learn the ropes. You just watch her with a couple of tricks. You'll learn good! Then you can forget about money problems."
Although she didn't fully realize it then, Toni was going to learn about life from the inside-the sordid, the perverted, the coarse, the vulgar, the pitiful, the cruel…and the beautiful. She had come to New York to learn about life, and she was about to get it with full impact.
The madame's selection of an instructress and a first trick to watch was unfortunate. Or perhaps it was the madame's method of "kill it or cure it" for new girls. A steady customer named Gino was sent down to Toni's room, along with a big-busted young redhead.
Gino didn't waste a second after he said he didn't care if Toni watched or not. He unbuttoned the redhead's bathrobe and began sucking her nipples while they still stood in the middle of Toni's grubby little room. He pulled on the redhead's nips until they came out full, then raked them with the surface of his tongue until she was breathing uncontrollably. He groped for his zipper. Toni just sat there in an old chair, trembling with fear. He pulled out his cock, hard and red and big. The redhead let him push her to the bed, expecting him to shove in his big prick and give her the hard ride right off. He didn't. He said, "Not yet. I want you to suck yourself first. Seeing a woman do that sends me off the roof!"
The redhead smiled. "So I gotta be a contortionist for him, Toni. jDon't let it bother you, kid. We get all types."
"Not your cunt, dumb-dumb!" he said, laughing "Your tits. You got big boobies, oughta be able to get one of them in your mouth easy."
Toni couldn't take her eyes off his big cock, as it bobbed up and down like a flagpole. "C'mon," he said. "Suck one of your tits first; that'll make me hotter. I'm a good lay-ask any of the girls."
The redhead complied with Gino's request, taking one of her breasts and pushing it upward toward her mouth. With some effort she was able to get the nipple past her lips, into her young red mouth.
She began sucking on it, and Toni felt sorry for the girl. She must feel a little stupid, Toni thought-but at the same time felt that ache in her own pussy again.
While the girl sucked her breast, Gino played with his prick. As he watched, his eyes filled with lust, shining darkly, a stupid grin on his face and his fingers full of his own flesh. The redhead had to finally stop sucking her own tittie because her mouth and chin ached. Then she lay back on the bed and practically begged Gino to fuck her. "Put it in me!" she cried, acting out the role. "Screw me, baby! That's why we're here!"