He called back over his shoulder: ‘Hey Bo, it’s Desiree.’
‘Well, there’s really no need. I just want to know whether—’
Then Bo was there too. The two boys bustled her into their warm apartment and solicitously stripped away her sodden clothing. While Al dried her with a soft towel Bo fixed her a mug of hot chocolate. In moments she was sitting nude at their table, drinking it. It was wonderful.
‘This may seem inopportune,’ Al said. ‘But there’s something about you. Would it be too much to ask if—’
This was the test. What did she have to lose?
‘Welcome, both of you.’ Suddenly she was on the bed with them, and Al was kissing her mouth and fondling her breasts while Bo was squeezing her buttocks and tonguing her cleft. Then Al’s rigid penis was in her mouth while Bo’s was plunging her vagina. They tried to be gentle, but were overcome by passion. They jetted almost simultaneously.
Desiree swallowed the coursing fluid, and rocked with the force of the eruptions. Her question had been answered: she had potent sex appeal.
The boys were embarrassed as they subsided.
‘We’ve never been like this before,’ Al said. ‘I don’t know what got into us.’
‘I do,’ Desiree said, satisfied. Innate caution caused her to avoid the truth. ‘You just never saw me nude before.’
‘We thought you were, well, plain,’ Bo said.
‘No offense. This was amaz ing.’
‘Just my luck to get caught in the rain. I’d better go home now.’
‘Of course,’ Al said. ‘But now that we know the real you, we’d like to—’
‘How about formal dates with each of you, on alternate nights?’ They agreed. Soon she was on her way home, in borrowed dry clothing, carrying her wet things. She was well pleased with her supposed curse. Now she had two nice boyfriends.
But as she settled down to sleep in the evening, it occurred to her that it could be awkward at her job, where there were four men for every woman. Could she turn off the sex appeal? Would baggy clothing mask it? Or would she be stuck trying to fend off married men, including her boss?
Well, she would worry about that in the morning. She drew he sheet over her and dropped off to sleep.
She woke in alarm. There was a man in bed with her! Or something. He was trying to rape her.
She turned on the light. She stared. The sheet was squeezing her breasts, and part of it had somehow gotten wadded around her hairbrush, and the wrapped handle was pushing into her cleft. She realized with horror that she had so much sex appeal that the very things of her bedroom wanted to have sex with her. It was indeed a curse; how could she sleep if she couldn’t trust even the sheets to leave her alone?
Veil paused in her narration. The man’s penis had swelled in her hand with each recounted sexual episode, and was now fully hard. She sat up and mounted him, setting his member at her cleft.
The man looked at her, remembering where he was. And his penis shrank. Sex became impossible.
“Damn!” he said, blowing out a foul stench.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you. You were potent only when you forgot you were with a woman.”
“True. But you got farther than any other woman has. You could tell me other stories, and perhaps in time it would become possible.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed. But she was afraid it was a lost cause.
The next man was a callow youth with a dirty neck. How clean would he be where it didn’t show?
“I got two friends,” he said, farting politely. “We do everything together. We swore never to let a woman break us up. So we figure to do it together. One for the mouth, one for the cunt, one for the asshole, blasting off together if we can. Between times you can scrub the floor, cook the mush, wash the sheets—you know, what women do. You understand?”
“Perfectly,” she said. She had described two young men having simulta neous sex with one woman; this trio planned to go it one better, stretching all her orifices at once with their unclean instruments. She’d be better off with the impotent man.
One day remained, with one more man to qualify. She hoped he turned out to be a better prospect.
Chapter 13—Tower
Prior woke with one hand on Smellie’s breast. He wasn’t sure whether it was accident, or he had been feeling her in his sleep, or she had placed it there. It didn’t matter; it was nice. He rolled over, kissed the breast, and then her mouth.
“It’s been great,” he said.
“The greatest,” she agreed. “You’ve done so much for me.”
“But do you want the last thing?”
“Yes. I have decided.”
“You will be blind for a few hours, and you’ll have to keep your face bandaged for days.”
“I’m ready. Do it now.”
She put two breathing straws in her nostrils and lay with her eyes closed. He straddled her on hands and knees, his rear aimed at her head. The Spire issued an almost liquid fart that settled across her face and around the straws. That was all; Prior, prompted by the Spire, moved away.
Her face was melting. It looked like a wad of taffy with two straws poking out. It was awful.
LEAVE HER, the Spire gouted. SHE WILL BE UNCONSCIOUS FOR SEVERAL HOURS, THEN HER FEATURES WILL FIRM ENOUGH SO SHE CAN REMOVE THE STRAWS. ALL WILL BE WELL; SHE KNOWS WHAT TO DO. IN TIME SHE WILL BE BEAUTIFUL.
Prior hoped so. He dressed, ate, and quietly departed. At least this abated any sticky farewell scene.
He made his way to the fart balloon. It was being filled by several men with so much intestinal gas the hiss of it was continuous.
A woman arrived. There was a provocative flirt to her hips as she walked; that, more than her pretty face, identified her. She was the winner of the seduction contest, who had made a penis spurt without touching it.
“Ah, the fart champion,” she said, recognizing him. “We are to be travel mates. May the farts be with you.” She let out a ladylike fart.
“We are?” he asked, surprised, as the Spire loosed a courteous response fart. “Travel mates?”
“I have kin in Maid-in-Tower Village, so I’m taking advantage of the transport there. I’m sure you won’t mind.”
Prior wasn’t eager for such a distraction. “I, uh—”
“I promise to entertain you on high,” she said, taking a little dance-like step that compelled his attention. “I am Seducia, mistress of masters.” She farted again, with more authority, and removed her jacket so as to bare her breasts.
Nevertheless, he was determined to resist her blandishments, because he wanted to be at full potency for the Tower contest on the following day. It was bad enough to have to tangle with demons, without doing so depleted.
“I am Micro, master of not much,” he responded, and the Spire issued a social fart that smelled of honeysuckle.
Soon the balloon was full of gas. They boarded and it was cut loose. It floated into the sky.
“But how does it steer?” Prior asked, alarmed, for there was no visible mechanism.
“The wind takes it, silly,” Seducia said, laughing. “The trip is timed for the correct direction.” She farted humorously.
“Live and learn,” Prior said, and the Spire let fly with a two note tweedle fart.
“Oh, you are good,” Seducia said admiringly. “As we saw yesterday. You came from nowhere, but you farted in masterly fashion.”
She glanced sidelong at him. “Shall we proceed?”
“Uh—”
She shook her midsection, causing her short skirt to flounce up, flashing her bare bottom as her breasts bounced jigglesomely. “I don’t really know a man until I have had him in me,” she said. “But it’s more sporting if I make him spurt untouched.”