The Trouble With Eden - Lawrence Block [126]
Mr. Dillinger drove up to a gasoline station
He said, “This looks like a mighty fine location.”
The attendant said, “Do you want any gas?”
“Well, it’s either your gas or your yaas-yas-yas… .”
Somehow she had not expected that they would kiss each other. The specifically sexual acts she had had no trouble anticipating, visualizing, but she had not expected this sort of loveplay. At first it simply astonished her. Then she found it adding to her own excitement She had never been a spectator at other people’s love-making before.
But they did not ignore her for long. They drew apart—reluctantly, it seemed to her—and they joined her on the bed, one on each side of her. Two mouths began to kiss her while four hands acquainted themselves with her body. She closed her eyes and abandoned herself to sensation. A mouth on each of her breasts, both of them sucking her at once. Hands everywhere, fingers in her lower parts, both front and back, both of these powerful men busying themselves with all of her.
Oh, way down yonder in St. Augustine
A black cat sat down on a sewin’ machine
Now that machine, it sewed so fas’
It took ninety-nine stitches in his yaas-yas-yas….
She had a whole little fleet of orgasms, one coming right after another. All they had to do to bring her off was touch her and they never stopped touching her. But her climaxes in no sense slowed her down. Instead they spurred her on, increasing her need for an ultimate release.
She lay with her eyes clenched shut, her hands knotted into fists at her side. A penis pressed against her lips and her mouth gaped to accept it. Another penis slithered into her vagina. She nursed on one while the other pounded at her. They both were taken away from her, and she writhed desperately until the two had changed places; one, moist with her saliva, slipped into her just as the other, slick with her juices, filled her mouth.
Until at last she was between them. Warren lay on his back and she was crouched over him, his cock buried in her cunt, and she felt Bert’s hand on her buttocks and strained to open herself to accommodate him. Sully had used her thus in the past and she had learned to make herself accessible that way. Even so it was painful at first. She fought the pain and squirmed, impaled on Warren, and then Bert was within her as well and she was filled fore and aft, filled utterly, and it was as though she had spent all her life until that moment empty.
They moved in perfect unison, like performers in a ballet, matching their strokes, thrusting and parrying expertly. She felt them on either side of the narrow membrane separating her two cavities, felt them touching each other through the medium of her flesh. Their heads were to the side of hers and their mouths were glued together; they kissed each other deeply while they plunged together in and out of her body. She felt at once utterly apart from what was taking place and simultaneously caught up in a level in involvement she had never before known.
Sully they are fucking me one in my ass and one in my cunt and I am all filled up with cock I am overflowing with cock I am rippling like a bed of hot lava they are fucking the life out of me the soul out of me the hell out of me they are fucking the hell out of me Sully God oh God oh God I am on fire I am burning I am melting I am dying oh God fucking God fucking God—
There was a hole in the middle of the world and she fell right through it.
When she opened her eyes Bert was sitting on the side of the bed holding a cold cloth to her forehead. Warren was in a chair with a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
She said, “What happened?”
“You left us for awhile,” Warren said.
“I passed out?”
“That’s a more direct way of putting it.”
“That never happened before.” She pushed the cloth aside and sat up. “Jesus Christ,” she said.
“How do you feel?”
“That’s hard to say, A little dizzy.