Three cheers for women’s liberation! If nothing else, it has freed up feminine bedmates to ask for what gratifies them. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned as the man from O.R.G.Y., it’s that satisfying a woman while making love to her always—always!-—-makes the man’s experience more gratifying.
I slid to the floor on my knees. I put one hand under Stephanie’s hot and writhing bottom. I reached my other hand up to her breast and grasped it, palming the long, quivering nipple. Then I bent my head to the treasure between her legs.
Stephanie moaned as I ran my tongue up between her muscle-tensed thighs. I felt her heart speed up wildly as I dipped into her honeyed well. When my lips closed over the swollen, purple lips of her quim in a sucking kiss, she let out a little yelp and raised her bottom to arch her belly so that the pressure there—and the suckling sensation—would be increased.
Continuing to suck her, I explored with my tongue. The inside of her pussy, while coated with syrup, was tightly ridged. When my tongue grazed her clitty, the ridges clutched at my tongue like the fingers of a hand transforming itself into a fist. Deliberately, I broke off contact with the stiff, aroused clitty. Immediately both of Stephanie’s fists pummeled my shoulders. I squeezed her nipple and she subsided. I pushed my tongue all the way up inside her and began moving it in and out as if it was a prick fucking her. The lower part of her body began bouncing frantically as if that was the case. The bounces were contrived to rub her clitty over my tongue, but again I avoided the contact. I didn’t want Stephanie to come this way. I wanted her to come when my cock was inside her.
“Oh!” she pleaded. “Please! I’m so hot! Please! I can’t get any hotter!”
She was wrong. When I slid my hand between the bouncing globes of her behind I found another furnace there and turned up the heat still more. My fingertip playing with her ‘quick’ while I sucked and licked her pussy made her even more frantic.
‘You devil!” Her fists were pounding my shoulders once again. “Suck my clitty! Lick my clitty! Play with it! . . . Something! Something! . . .” She writhed wildly over my double penetration of her most intimate recesses. “You devil! You devil!”
My cock was sticking out in front of me like a policeman’s billy. Stephanie couldn't reach it, but she kept clawing at my belly with the effort. Finally she managed to reach my pubic hair and tugged at it demandingly.
I got to my feet. I pushed Stephanie back on the bed. I lifted her legs over my shoulders. I drew back, ready to plunge, and --
And Stephanie Greenwillow rolled out from under. me and off the bed to the floor.
“What the hell—?” I stared” down at her, suddenly feeling foolish.
She looked back at me with gold-green eyes that were still cloudy with passion. Her lovely, ripe breasts were. still panting, the long nipples still bright red with lust. The swollen lips of her. cunt were still squeezing and unsqueezing regularly as if beyond her control. “Let’s not hurry things, Steve.” Her voice quavered.
“What the hell do you mean ‘hurry things’? Unless I’m nuts, we’re both as ready to fuck as we’ll ever be!”
“What I mean is that I know how important it is to you to watch the Superbowl.”
“The Superbowl . . .” I echoed blankly. Truthfully, it had gone out of my mind.
“Because of your involvement with the Stonewalls all -season,” Stephanie explained, I understand how important this game must be to you.”
“Stephanie!” I rallied my senses. Is this your idea of getting even with me for last year, or what?”
“Not at all,” she said. “Really. She certainly looked sincere. “I just think you should watch the game. And besides, we can sort of fool around while you’re watching and we’ll get so hot . . . so hot . . . Her voice trailed off. “It will be fun!” She looked very turned on by the idea.
“My balls will bust!”
“No they won’t,” she promised. “I’ll soothe them. She laid down beside me on the bed, her head on the pillow next to mine. She reached down and cupped my balls in one hand. She stroked them with the fingers of her other hand.
I looked at the TV screen. It was halftime. I had no idea what the score was. “Why don’t we just get laid now, real quick, and then relax and watch the second half,” I suggested to Stephanie.
“Why, Steve! Neither one of us has ever been much for quickies. Besides, it’ll be so-o-o-o much better if we build up to it slowly. . . “
“I'm already built up. And besides, it s halftime. There’s no game to watch.”
“Well, I didn’t finish what I was saying before anyway. There was one more thing I wanted to point out.”
“Please, Stephanie! Not politics! Not when I’m in this condition!”
“Your condition is perfectly delightful.” She squeezed my inflamed balls fondly. “What I wanted to say about those destructive boys playing their asinine games at the Baroquian Club is that the worst thing we allow them to do is run our governments—city, state, national and world—Democratic and Communist and Third World. We actually give these ninnies who have to exclude women from their clubs so they can urinate on trees—we actually give them the power to make laws to govern us, laws to dump food surpluses while babies go hungry, laws to subsidize nuclear plants they can’t control, laws to tell women what they can and can’t do with their bodies, laws—”
“Stephanie!” I interrupted desperately. '°You’re squeezing too hard!”
“Oh! Sorry!” She loosened her grip on my balls.
“Besides,” I said quickly before she could resume her diatribe, “the second half is starting.”
“Okay.” She patted my genitals soothingly and subsided.
I learned now, for the first time, that the first half had ended with the score Eagles 14, Whittier 10. Jaworski, ‘the Polish Rifle’, had evidently done his homework well enough to pierce the Stonewalls’ defense with two long passes that had set up the touchdowns for Philly. The Philly defense, on the other hand, had devoted themselves to a pass-rush blitz that had held Terry Niemath to one touchdown bomb plus a series of buttonhooks mixed with bootlegs that had culminated in a field goal. Coming out for the second half, the Stonewalls looked grim. They’d gotten out of the habit of being on the short end of the halftime score.
The kickoff was called dead in the Whittier end zone and it was first-and-ten on their own twenty. Stonewalls halfback Luther went around the right side for four yards. On second down, Terry’s pass to Pete Gorgonzola was knocked away by left corner back Roynell Young. On the next play, she con-nected with a slant-out bullet to tight end Craig Cramp, and Whittier had the first down. As they lined up on the thirty-six, Stephanie nuzzled her head on my chest, being elaborately careful not to block the TV screen, and tongued my left nipple. My semi-hard prick nodded acknowledgement.
On the second play, Terry Niemath threw a long one straight down the middle. This time Gorgonzola got under it and held on. Two plays later, Luther went over for the TD. Horseshoe Cohen kicked the extra point, and Whittier was ahead seventeen to fourteen.
“Go, team!” I exclaimed jubilantly. Stephanie, reacting, ran her tongue down from my chest to my belly. When I shivered, she laughed a low, throaty‘ laugh and kissed my navel. My cock came up like periscope investigating the action.
Ron Jaworski looked grim when the Eagles up after the kickoff return. The shadow of bowl XV hung over him and he probably help having visceral memory flashes of his defeat the hands of the Raiders. Nevertheless, he began mixing up his plays coolly and, just before quarter ended, Philly was back on the board to make it twenty to seventeen. Rushing through a hole made by Grinder Meade, linebacker Freck Foley leaped like a heavyset gazelle to block Tony Franklin’s kick for the extra point.