Archive-name: First/furlouh2.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: Furlough - 2 CHAPTER 2 Some of the guys teased me until I finally admitted I had gotten laid. And blown. "No shit?" We were showering, about five of us. "No shit?" George repeated. He was a big, black man, Seaman First. "Hey, guys, Eddie finally lost it!" Cheers went up and some more kidding. "So how'd you like it, kid?" George asked. I grinned at him. "I liked it a lot." "What'd you get, some old bag?" "Streetwalker over on Fourteenth, just like you said. About 19 or so, I guess." "How'd she like that big club of yours?" He nodded toward my cock, swinging under the needle spray of the shower as I sluiced off the soap. "She had some trouble with it -- couldn't take it all -- but she sucked me off a couple of times." "I know someone who could take it all," he said, winking. "C'mon, George, you know how I feel about that." As soon as George had learned I was unrepentantly straight, he'd stopped making passes at me and passed the word to the other queers. Generally, nobody came on too strong. But George still kidded me from time to time. "Can't blame a guy for trying." He laughed and grinned again. "Anyhow, congratulations, kid." "Thanks." I dried off, got into my civvies, signed out and went shoreside. At the first vacant, functioning phone, I dialed the number. It was answered on the second ring. "Mrs. Tell, please." "Who may I say is calling?" "Eddie Carr. A Miss Legs said I should contact her." "A moment." I listened to traffic overhead on the West Side Highway for a few seconds. Then: "Mr. Carr?" The woman's voice was tense, but not hostile or pushy. "Yes. Mrs. Tell?" "Yes. Wanda said you should call me?" "Yes, ma'am. Said you'd like to meet me." "Oh, she did? Was Wanda able to take care of you completely?" "Mmmmm -- not nearly, ma'am. Left about a third of me out in the cold." I felt weird talking like this, but -- What the hell! "Really?" Her voice had even more tension in it. Now I realized what it was -- excitement. "Really? Well, Mr. Carr, perhaps we could have a drink this evening, say about seven-thirty." "That'd be fine, ma'am. Where?" "Why, here, of course." She gave me an address on East Fifty-Eighth Street. "Mrs. Tell, I have to ask you -- are you still married? Because I don't like to get friendly with married ladies, if you know what I mean." "Scruples? Good heavens, Mr. Carr, you are not a resident of New York, are you? Of course not. Midwest, I'd guess. Anyhow -- no, I am not married any longer. Mr. Tell and I split up a few years ago. I'll be glad to give you all the sordid details over a drink. Seven-thirty, then?" "I'm looking forward to it, ma'am." "Good, because I am looking forward to accommodating you. Good- bye." I wandered around town with some of the other guys for most of the day. We had lunch at some Greek place in the Village and went up to the Empire State Building. Everywhere we went, there were good-looking women. I think there're more good-looking women in New York City then any place in the world. And all kinds -- young and old and in between, big and little, white and black and yellow. It was great, and by six o'clock, I was definitely in the mood for an accommodating woman. I decided to walk over to the address Mrs. Tell had given me. I had plenty of time and walked slowly, but still got there ten minutes early. Which gave me time to have doubts again. For all I knew, Mrs. Tell was some fifty-year-old battleax. Or a fat, dumpy broad who had to pay guys to take care of her. It was a four-story brownstone with what looked like a roof garden, judging by the shrubbery and lights I could see from the sidewalk. As I waited, a limousine pulled up. The door of the house opened and two fabulously beautiful women, long legged and graceful, appeared. They were in slinky, formal evening gowns and wore nice jewelry. One was black and the other was white and either one was enough to break a natural man's heart. One of them flashed me a quick smile as she ducked into the limousine through the door the chauffeur held for her. And what did a night with a babe like that cost? I guessed it was more than a Seamen-First made in a year to get either of them. The limo pulled away and I crossed the street. A moment later, I was ringing the backlit doorbell. The door opened and a maid stood there. "Yes?" "Eddie Carr to see Mrs. Tell. She's expecting me." "Oh, yes, please come in. I will tell her you are here." She closed the door behind me and I looked the place over. I was in a formal vestibule, dimly lit and heavily carpeted. Everything I saw sort of quietly screamed MONEY at the top of its lungs. Mrs. Tell might be a battleax, but she was a rich battleax. The maid returned, smiling. She was Hispanic, pretty and had a really good figure. I guessed she was in her thirties. "Mrs. Tell said she will receive you in her lounge. Follow me, please?" She started up the stairs and I was right behind her. She really had a good ass, that maid did, and it was twitching right in front of my face. And she knew it, because when we reached the top of the stairs and she gestured toward an open door at the other end of the landing, she gave me a smile and a wink. At the door of the lounge, I paused and said, "Mrs. Tell?" The room was lit only by the light coming in from the street, through the windows. "Over here. Come in, please!" A small table lamp went on. The room was big and sumptuous, furnished with white, modern sectionals lining two walls. The third wall was taken up by all sorts of electronic entertainment stuff and the one through which I'd entered was covered with mahogany cabinets. The carpet was plush and a pale blue. Mrs. Tell stood and held her hand out to me. Mrs. Tell was a fox. "Mr. Carr?" I crossed to her, feeling suddenly awkward, and took her hand. It was small. Hell, *she* was small -- a good six inches shorter than me, and not even her dark blue jogging suit could conceal the fact that she couldn't have weighed more than a hundred pounds. "Please, call me Eddie, ma'am." "Okay, Eddie ma'am." We laughed. "And call me Sherry. Can I get you a drink?" "Something soft, please." "Coke?" "Fine, thanks." I watched her walk to a cabinet and open it, revealing a little refrigerator. She scooped some ice from an ice bucket into a glass retrieved from another cabinet and quickly fizzed some Coca-cola into it. I was watching her move inside the jogging suit. The material wasn't heavy enough to be a sweat suit and when she moved, it clung nicely. She was petite, with a nice, tight body. And her face was lovely. She had very full lips, big, dark, pretty eyes and a straight little nose. Her hair was very dark and I guessed she was maybe thirty years old -- probably less. She had a great little ass. And that started me wondering if this was some kind of joke. Wanda was a big girl and she hadn't been able to handle me; was this little piece of fluff even a candidate? She came back and handed me the Coke, then sat at the corner of the sectional. She gestured and I sat on the other side of the corner. She picked up another glass and took a big gulp. I could smell the gin. "Well, Eddie, I got a call from Wanda this afternoon and she told me all about you." She smiled. "So Wanda got your cherry, eh? Sweet. And she told me you have rather impressive endowments." She squirmed a little lower in the cushion and cross her legs at the knees. I watched the fabric of the jogging suit drape her calves. Her gaze traveled up and down my torso, then back to my face. "I've been wet since she told me." The tension in her voice was growing and her nipples were pressing the thin material of the jogging suit, rising and falling as she breathed. "I had to lock my door and help myself out four times since she called." I swallowed. She licked her lips. "Let me see it. Please." "Just like that? Right here? But the maid -- " "She won't disturb us. Please?" I noticed her hand was in her crotch and she was blushing. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. I stood, unzipped and pushed my jeans and briefs to my knees. "Yessssss...." She put her drink down and slowly folded to her knees on the floor. Her eyes were locked on my cock. She walked on her knees to me and took my cock in trembling fingers. Her touch was hot and my dick began swelling, making up for time lost while I'd questioned her capacity. She raised my glans to mouth level, kissed it and then opened her mouth very, very wide and stuffed my prick inside. She groaned as she began licking and sucking it. She put both hands on my shaft and lightly stroked me as she began working her mouth back and forth over my erecting flesh. She pulled more than pushed and kept taking more of my cock into her mouth. The knob hit the back of her mouth pretty fast and I was ready for her to stop and pull off me. She didn't. She made a kind of throat-clearing noise, bent lower and angled her head up. I could see she had her throat and mouth all in a line. She bent my cock down so it was in line with her gullet. She pulled me again and I felt my dickhead slipping into her throat. Her nostrils flared and then she backed me off a bit. Her tongue was trapped under the meat in her mouth, but she never stopped fluttering it against my prick and she never stopped jerking on my shaft. She pulled me forward and my knob went into her throat a little bit more easily. She gulped and pushed herself up at me as she put one hand on my hip. She kept pulling me toward her. I could feel her throat swallowing on my cock, the muscles in her gullet squeezing me. Her throat was starting to bulge out a bit. She had two thirds of my cock in her mouth and throat before she started backing me off this time. I thought she was going to pull me back out of her throat. She didn't. Instead, she suddenly rammed herself up at me. She took me as deep as before and then deeper, deeper, deeper -- but slower, and slower, and slower. She finally had to take her hand away from the base of my shaft, but because of how much it swells out there, she couldn't open her mouth wide enough to get more. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she tightened her throat around my cock and sucked a foot of my prick. I tried to warn her I was going to cum. She knew it, though, and then she did something I'd never heard of -- she slid one finger up my ass and began pressing something inside. My dick swelled up and she got a panicked lock in her face, and then I unloaded inside her. I really came hard, just pouring what felt like pints of my spunk into her hot throat. After about the fifth big spurt, she pulled her throat off me and sucked just the glans. She kept wiggling that finger up my butt and resumed jerking my shaft and Wham! there came another torrent. Her mouth opened around my prick and the stuff overflowed her lips even while she swallowed. She resumed sucking and never stopped jerking. I fired one more big load before spurting a half-dozen little ones, real fast. She swallowed about half of it. The rest was coating her lips and chin and throat and was staining her top. When she finally let my dick out of her mouth, her eyes were glazed and her nipples looked ready to pop right through that thin silk. She fell forward onto all fours and shook. The way her hips moved, I knew she was feeling something powerful. I thought my knees were going to give way. I backed away and let myself sit pretty heavily on one of the sectionals. My dick was still fat and long, but limber now and it hung over the edge of the cushion. She looked up and saw it and came over on hands and knees. "I love your cock," she whispered and kissed it. She licked her tongue under the glans and slowly sucked it back into her mouth. I groaned, feeling my balls start to fill up again. I wasn't sure I could take another orgasm like that too soon. "Let me give you a show, sailor boy." --