by AnonYMous
"Vernie, you oughtn't tell such stories in front of Eedy! Just look how she's blushing!" Mr. Tucker exclaimed gleefully.
As soon as he was gone, Vernon's good humor and gaiety vanished.
"What did you do to George to make him peeved while I was gone?" he asked, turning angrily to me.
"I didn't do anything to him, Vernon dear. He put his hand on my leg, underneath my dress, and I moved my chair, that was all."
"I'd like to know," he exclaimed furiously, "why you're so damned finicky with George!"
"But, Vernon!" I protested, almost speechless with surprise, "you surely don't approve of him taking such liberties as that, do you?"
"Oh, what the hell does it amount to? He isn't going to eat you!"
I stared at him wide eyed and, changing his tones, he added coaxingly:
"Say Eedy, why don't you loosen up a bit with George? He could do a lot for us, if you'd be more sensible. There's nothing in all this damn prudery. It isn't going to get us any place!"
As I listened to these strange words, scarcely able to believe my ears, a terrible comprehension began to dawn on me and suddenly an explanation of many things which had hitherto puzzled me made itself apparent.
I looked at him steadily, and for the first time I saw him in his true light, a weakling, a selfish, spineless man from whom the last bit of artificial gilt was gone. And in an instant every shred of affection faded away and in its place, at the recollection of all I had lost, came a cold determined longing to revenge myself. Even as I looked at him a plan, suggested by his own words, formulated itself in my mind.
With simulated calmness, I said softly:
"Vernon, let's get things straight. Just what is it you want me to do to help you? Do you want me to let Mr. Tucker fuck me?"
his face flushed at hearing the ugly word, but deceived by my apparent tranquility, he replied:
"Well, Eedy, George is a good scout. You could loosen up a bit with him. Of course…" he added virtuously, "I wouldn't want any other chap fooling with you…"
"Vernon, was that why you went out tonight? You don't have to hide anything from me. Now that we understand each other, I'm going to help you but I want to know just exactly what I'm expected to do. You've already told Mr. Tucker he could do it with me, haven't you?"
Still deceived by the suavity of my tones, he answered:
"Well… not exactly, but there wouldn't be any great harm if you came through to him once or twice and it would put us on easy street!"
"Very well, Vernon. That's what I wanted to know. I'll do it. But the next time you arrange it, don't go out. It isn't necessary and besides, I'm afraid of him. If you want me to let him do it with me, you must stay in the room."
"But Eedy! That wouldn't be decent!" he exclaimed in surprise. "He wouldn't hurt you! What would he think if I was sticking around?"
"You leave that to me, Vernon. You'll have to be here, or I won't let him touch me."
"Well," he agreed, doubtfully, "we'll fix it some way."
CHAPTER 8
The following day when I returned from the store I found that Vernon had prepared supper, something which was generally left for me to do and I guessed the significance of this unusual attention. But my plans were complete, and I was ready to go ahead with them.
"Seen Mr. Tucker today, Vernon?"
He nodded his head affirmatively, without looking at me.
"Everything fixed for tonight?"
"Why … ah … I guess George will be in, after dinner."
"All right, Vernon, dearest. As soon as we finish dinner you can go out and get some wine. Get plenty. And while you're gone I'll bathe and put on my prettiest things."
"You don't need to dress up especially for George," he said, with a shade of resentment in his voice at my cheerfulness.
"You want me to look nice, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes…" he answered eyeing me doubtfully, "but he's getting enough as it is, without extra trimmings!"
"Well, you get the wine, and leave the rest to me."
It was evident that my unexpected enthusiasm had somewhat dampened his spirits. He had supposed that my submission to this man would be in the nature of a sacrifice to necessity, and in his egotism had taken it for granted that to me it would be only a disagreeable incident. Rejoicing inwardly at his discomfiture, I looked forward with bitter pleasure to what was yet in store for him.
When he had gone I hurriedly packed a suitcase with my belongings, leaving out only such articles of apparel and toilet as would be needed that night, and pushed the suitcase our of sight, under the bed. Then I bathed, and dressed myself in the prettiest garments of my modest wardrobe. I arranged my hair, powered my face, and touched up my lips. My whole being seemed to have undergone a complete physical and mental evolution, and as I gazed into the face which looked back at me from the mirror, I was amazed at the transformation. I felt as though a heavy and long sustained load had suddenly been lifted from my shoulders and with its going the depressions, disappointments, deceptions for the past year had gone, too. I felt as a prisoner must feel upon release, after weary months of confinement. A wave of exhilaration passed over me.
Vernon returned, placed the liquor in the kitchen and stood watching me moodily. The daintiness and coquetry of my dress was plainly irritating to him. Though I was acceding to his own suggestion to prostitute myself for his benefit, it hurt his vanity to see me making what appeared to be an excessively elaborate preparation for the event.
"I've half a mind to tell that guy there's nothing doing," he growled, finally.
"Oh, that would be foolish now, Vernon. You've already promised him and besides, you've got to have somebody help you get a start."
The sarcasm passed over his head, and he agreed:
"Yes, I guess you're right, Eedy."
Mr. Tucker appeared promptly at nine o'clock, and even had my husband not confessed it, I would have guessed from the expectant look on the man's face that he had some reason to anticipate a change in my attitude toward him. His eyes fairly devoured me as they traveled up over my legs, skirt, breasts and face.
"Sit down, George, and make yourself comfortable!" I exclaimed merrily.
"How's the little girl tonight?" he asked, as I took his hat.
"Oh, fine George! Just in the right humor for a good time!"
The first step in carrying out the program I had formulated was to see that Mr. Tucker was provided with a generous, and continuous supply of liquor. Calling to Vernon to bring in some wine, I seated myself in a chair directly in front of the man, and immodestly crossed my legs in such a way that my rather short skirt ws drawn up over my knees. I knew that some bit of naked leg above my hose must be visible to him, and as I had expected his glance immediately flashed downward and he stared as though mesmerized by the sight.
Joking, laughing hilariously at the slightest pretext, I sipped my own wine. Frequently, I refilled my glass but always it was empty, thus I was not in reality consuming any great quantity and the artifice passed unobserved by Mr. Tucker, whose thoughts were evidently more occupied with my legs than with what I was drinking.
Vernon, sitting across the room from us, looked on in silence, his face reflecting surprise at my unusual conviviality. I perceived that he also was glancing surreptitiously at my legs and I knew that the careless posture had attracted his attention as well as Mr. Tucker's. The difference was that while Mr. Tucker was enjoying the sight, he was not.
I tilted my chair backward against the wall, a movement which contributed to the elevation of my skirts. Mr. Tucker was probably able to see half up my thigh. The effect upon him was instantaneous. He hastily poured himself a glass of wine, and beneath the cloth of his trouser leg an elongated swelling began to make itself apparent.
Vernon arose from his chair, came toward me, placed his hand on my shoulder and pinching it significantly, said:
"Eedy, you're drinking an awful lot. Better not take any more!"
"Let the li
ttle girl enjoy herself, Vernie! The wine isn't going to hurt her!" interposed Mr. Tucker, a shade resentfully.
My plan was unfolding with admirable precision. I had counted on my husband's inherent egotism being awakened by my actions toward Mr. Tucker, and I knew that in such a state of mind he would not be very likely to enter into the festive spirit of the occasion, and would in his sullenness refrain from drinking. I wanted him to keep a clear head in order to appreciate to the fullest his situation. On the other hand I intended to excite Mr. Tucker and encourage him to drink until he lost all control of himself, and under these conditions surrender my body to him in my husband's presence. I knew that to accomplish this I would have to inflame the man to the point of beastliness. Unless I could do this, he would naturally expect to consummate the act in privacy.
He was no almost drunk while Vernon had taken but a single glass, and I by means of deft manipulation of bottles and glasses had avoided drinking much more, though I pretended to be half tipsy.
"Come on, old dear," I called to Vernon, "put a record on the gramophone; Georgie and I want to dance!"
With reluctance, still eyeing me reproachfully, he obeyed. Seizing Mr. Tucker by the arm I pulled him from his chair. He was unsteady on his feet, but our gyrations served the purpose of enabling me to rub my leg against the place where something hard and stiff under the cloth of his trousers was throbbing and pushing.
We sat down, flushed and panting, and I poured him another drink.
"Vernon, you don't care if I sit on Georgie's lap, do you?" I pleaded coaxingly. "He's a good old scout and i have to love him a little bit too, you know!"
"Go ahead if you want to!" he replied gruffly. There was an angry glint in his eye and I felt a thrill of satisfaction. His punishment had begun.
I seated myself on Mr. Tucker's knee, and placed an arm around his neck.
"Vernon, you don't care if I give Georgie a teeny kiss, do you?"
His eyes shot fire.
"Give him a dozen, if you want to!"
I pressed my mouth to Mr. Tucker's, and inserted my tongue between his lips. I felt his body tense, and knew that every carnal instinct in the man was aroused. I touched my tongue to his, moaned, sighed, shivered, and took on as though I was in a state of passionate excitation. He placed a hand greedily over one of my breasts and I felt the fingers of the other squeezing and pinching the flesh of my thigh.
But he was not drunk enough for my purpose. I slipped from his lap, and shaking my finger in his face exclaimed with mock severity:
"Bad man. Putting his hand on Eedy's titty! Mustn't do that. Makes her have naughty feelings!"
I served another drink to Mr. Tucker. His gaze never left me as he drained it, and in his eyes I read the thoughts which filled his intoxicated brain, and knew that in imagination he was already contemplating my naked body, and mentally possessing me.
Again I sat on his knee and as if my accident permitted my hand to brush against the bulky swelling under his trouser leg.
"George! What have you got in your pocket? Why, it feels as though it was alive!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" roared Mr. Tucker. "She wants to know what I've got in my pocket, Vernie!"
My husband vouchsafed no comment, but looked on in frozen silence, then suddenly arose, and walked into the dining room. It was not my intention to permit him to escape a single detail, and so, on the pretext of getting more liquor, I followed him.
"Say!" he whispered savagely, seizing me by the arm, "I've changed my mind! To hell with George! Let's get him out of here, before he gets any drunker!"
"Why, Vernon!" I replied tipsily, "Georgie's an old dear! He's the best friend we've got. I'm going to loosen up with him. Where the hell are we going to get up with a lot of damn prudishness?"
He tried to hold me, but I slipped from his grasp and flitted bacvk to Mr. Tucker. Raising my dress above my knees, I essayed a half drunken dance.
"Vernon says," I declared solemnly, "that you're the best old scout of a friend he ever had. He says: Treat Georgie nice!"
"Sure, Vernie's my friend!" agreed Mr. Tucker thickly.
My husband returned and resumed his seat near the door. The moment in which Mr. Tucker would be in a condition suitable to my purpose was not far off. He was now almost drunk enough to be indifferent to my husband's presence, and my familiarities with him, the exposure of my limbs, which I continually found opportunities to provide, had fire his passions almost to the limit of his endurance.
I placed another record on the gramophone and as the disk began to revolve I pirouetted about the room elevating my dress high enough to expose the bare flesh of my legs above my stockings. Mr. Tucker applauded wildly urging me on. Faster and faster I whirled until my skirt billowed outward and the short, lace edged panties I had on, were visible. I had dressed myself with just such possibilities in mind, and the panties, one of my few remaining pieces of finery, were of French manufacture, made of the sheerest of rose-tinted silk, very short of leg, edged with narrow bands of black lace, and semi-transparent.
Mr. Tucker continued to express appreciation loudly. Stopping suddenly in front of him, I exclaimed:
"My skirt's too tight to dance in. if it wasn't for that, I'd show you some real dancing!"
"Take it off!" roared Mr. Tucker, rising instantly to the bait.
"Oooooh! That would be naughty!" I answered, opening my eyes widely in shocked disapproval.
"Take it off!" cried Mr. Tucker again, his face fairly glowing with anticipation. Putting his hand in his pocket, he withdrew a five pound note and laid it on the table. "Take it off, and the money's yours!"
"Oooooh!" I repeated. "Let you see my in my panties? Why, that's as bad almost as being naked!"
"Be a sport, Eedy!" begged Mr. Tucker, almost beside himself, and a second note was laid beside the first one.
"Well…" I said, doubtfully, "it's awfully naughty, but if you'll promise never, never to tell anyone…?"
"Of course we won't tell!" shouted Mr. Tucker.
I took the money from the table and brazenly slipped it inside my stocking. I was going to need this money very shortly, and felt that I was well entitled to it. Vernon arose from his chair, stepped into the dining room and signaled furiously to me to follow him. I pretended not to see his motions, and he remained standing in the door.
With simulated bashfulness, and encouraged on by the ecstatic Mr. Tucker, I unhooked my dress and drew it off.
He clapped his hands and shouted his appreciation drunkenly, vowing that I was the "cutest little girl" he had ever laid eyes on. With my hand on my hips, I began to weave about, as I had seen girls do in some of the vulgar shows Mr. Tucker had taken us to. My husband stood as though turned to stone till I came near him in one of my evolutions and then he whispered hoarsely:
"Eedy, you're drunk! You're making a spectacle of yourself! Put on your clothes! I'll get George away without hurting his feelings."
Heedless of his admonitions, I continued my writhings and undulations frenziedly applauded by Mr. Tucker, until breathless, I sat down on his accommodating knee. I handed him a glass of liquor which he took with trembling fingers and drained at a single gulp. He appeared to be completely oblivious of my husband's presence and probably nothing was lacking now to bring the drama to its conclusion but to permit him to follow his own drunken inclinations. He set the glass back on the table and I relaxed loosely in his arms, my hair against his cheek.
His arms tightened around me and I felt one of his hands slipping up under the brassiere which covered my breasts. It closed over one of them, and I lisped reprovingly:
"Bad, bad man! Feeling Eedy's titties again and making her want to do something naughty!"
his other hand was working convulsively with the flesh of my bare thigh. Enboldened by the words, he slipped it inside my panties and for the first time in my life I felt the hand of a man, other than my husband, touching my sexual parts.
"Aaaah!" I breathed, shivering involuntarily.
> Vernon was still leaning rigidly against the door. His face was the color of a brick and he looked as though he was suffocating.
Revenge! Revenge for my ruined girlhood, the blasting of my illusions, the months of privation!
I squeezed closer to Mr. Tucker, wriggled and squirmed as though his coarse fingering was causing me the most exquisite pleasure. Sacrificing the last instinct of modesty, subordination the instinctive repulsion I felt for the man, I placed my hand over the bulky swelling in the front of his trousers. It responded to my touch with powerful throbs. However limited Mr. Tucker's cultural and educational qualifications he was certainly not lacking in physical vigor. Drunk as he was, he ws entirely alive and responsive sexually. Accommodation myself upon his lap in such a position that every movement was visible to my husband, I unbuttoned his pants, put my hand inside and took his thing out. Almost involuntarily I uttered an exclamation of surprise when I saw its dimensions. Nature had endowed him generously indeed, it was fully twice the size of my husband's and as I had never seen any other man's but his in its erected state, I was more than startled. Despite the aversion I felt toward the man, the sight and feel of it, as it jumped and throbbed in my fingers, inspired me with a strange feeling of … oh, I don't know how to express it … a tingling, trembly sensation that went all through me.
I recovered quickly from my momentary confusion and then, in plain sight of my stupefied husband, whose eyes were fixed glaringly upon me, I began to fondle and toy with it. I pulled the white foreskin down until the big, cherry shaped head stuck out nakedly. I tickled it with my finger tips, squeezed it and played with it until some big drops of limpid moisture appeared and rolled down the side. And at the same time I shivered and moaned and pressed my thighs together as if I wanted to do something so bad I could hardly wait.
Mr. Tucker had succeeded in unfastening my brassiere, and had uncovered my breasts. He put his mouth on one of them and while he sucked at the nipple he squeezed and massaged the other one with his hand. And at the same time his other hand was engaged in rough manipulation of my sexual parts. He even stuck his finger up inside as far as it would go, and while I writhed and twisted on his lap he worked it in and out. I stole a surreptitious glance at my husband. He was still standing motionless, frozen.
