Beauty and the bug

Actually, she was trying to push my trunks down. But they kept getting hung up in front on Old Lucifer. When I reached down between us to help her, she misunderstood and my hand was immediately imprisoned in the vise of her clenching thighs.

Talk about hot! Alicia was on the shortest of short fuses! It was catching. Old Lucifer was well primed by now. But Alicia couldn’t wait. She opened her thighs, lowered herself onto my hand, closed her thighs again, wrapped her hump around my fingers, shorts and all, rubbed her clitty up and down a few times, and came. Not once, but in a series of small explosions like a string of firecrackers. My hand was jerked around so violently that it was downright painful. But I didn’t notice the pain too much. Alicia’s orgasm had me beside myself. Still, I was determined to put Old Lucifer in the stable before letting him gallop and shoot.

With my free hand I grabbed the waistband of Alicia’s shorts and started pulling them down. When my fingers became entangled in the red hair covering her mound, and then came in contact with the clitty itself, Alicia went off again—even more violently this time -- repeatedly, as before. Now it was my other hand which took the beating. And all the time her nails were raking my bun and back until the flesh was raw.

I pushed her away forcibly. She was still coming so fast that she didn’t even seem to notice. I tore off my trunks. I stepped into her again. She squealed with delight as she felt my hard, naked cock press against the dripping entrance to her vagina.

She backed up against the trunk of the palm tree. She reached over her head with both hands. She was lucky. There was a low-lying frond within reach. She grabbed it and pulled herself up in the air. The lower part of her body shot forward and she wrapped her legs around my hips.

I stepped into her. Old Lucifer slid in as easy as pie. But once he was there, she did something with the muscles in there and he was gripped nice and tight and the way her inner flesh rippled provided a thrill a second.

Alicia had her hands on my bottom again. I returned the favor, using the grip to move her swinging body the way I wanted it to move. One of her hands was deep between my cheeks now. The other one was tickling my balls. I probed her anus. When she squealed, I strummed her clitty with my other hand. That made her squeal again and she pushed against me so hard I felt the tip of my prick battering the entrance to her womb.

“Harder!” she demanded.

I backed off a little and slammed into her hard.

“Harder!!!”

I put it to her as hard as I could.

“Harder!!!”

“Bitch!” I plunged in so hard my pelvis stung with the shock.

“HARDER!!!”

She was starting to come again as she said it, and for some reason I didn’t stop to figure out, that made me mad. I bit one of her ripe red nipples and that slowed her down a little. But only a little! This time I socked it to her with everything I had and then some.

She screamed. I felt myself starting to come. So did she. Her own orgasm came with a rush that more than matched mine. She let go of the palm frond and grabbed me around the neck. We spun around in circles, climaxing, coming for a long time, overflowing to fertilize the sand, and still more. . . .

Finally we collapsed to the ground together, spent and dizzy. The redhead’s lithe body was covered with perspiration which made her flesh gleam yellow-tan in the moonlight. Her hair was wild in the ocean breeze. Her nipples were still erect and every so often she would squeeze them again and moan.

It had been a long night, and I must have drifted off to sleep. I don’t know how long I dozed, but I do know what woke me up. It was a dream. In this dream, Alicia was licking and sucking my cock and balls while I slept.

But when the dream woke me up, it wasn’t a dream at all. Alicia’s face was buried in my groin and her red hair was fanned out over, my belly. Old Lucifer, shameless and tireless, was standing up and saluting once again.

“Don’t you ever rest?” I asked Alicia.

“Kiss me there!” she panted. “I love it when I’m kissed there.”

Somehow the desire in her voice excited me even more than what she was doing to me. I kissed the spot she indicated. She must have dabbed some perfume there earlier in the evening. The triangle of red curls under my nose was heavy with musk.

I came wide awake and my gusto matched hers as my lips kissed the lips of her vagina, as my tongue strummed her clitty, as my throat worked overtime swallowing the lubricating love-juice of her lust. Meanwhile she was performing like she’d more than earned her Ph.D. in Oral Lovemaking. She seemed to know just where and how and when to bite and lick and suck to maximize the refilling and rehardening of Old Lucifer.

Suddenly Alicia stiffened. Her thigh muscles tightened around my head. She seemed to be trying to swallow as much of the length of Old Lucifer as her mouth and throat could hold. And then her hot, red maw was slapping against my mouth rhythmically, hard, and I knew Alicia was getting it off again. Once, twice, three times—I lost count.

I could have gone with her, but I was having too much fun to want it to end so quickly. I had one of those second-time erections, the kind that are big, and hard, and also easiest to control. Old Lucifer is never as impatient the second time. Now he wanted to probe every corner of her warm, liquid, suckling craw before he filled her throat with the cream he was accumulating.

When this particular series of orgasms was over for Alicia, I swung myself over so that I was on top of her and let Old Lucifer root around her mouth just the way he would have if it had been her vagina. He teased her tongue and tickled her palate and repeatedly threatened her throat. Alicia loved it. She had a counter-move involving lips, tongue, teeth for every trick I put Old Lucifer through.

Passion mounted again. Alicia’s hungering mouth sent signals to her core and soon her panting breasts betrayed that she was once again approaching the verge. This time she’d have company. I too was eager to climax, eager to release my lust into her willing, waiting mouth.

But suddenly her mouth released me. She slid quickly out from under me and got to her feet. Before I could comprehend what she was up to, she had run from our spot beneath the small palm tree to a much taller palm about thirty feet away. I stood up, just beginning to understand.

The soft night air carried the trill of her excited laugh to me. “Remember?” she called. And then she started shinnying up the tree.

How could I forget? “Listen,” I answered. “I’m really pretty tired. Do we have to?”

“Tradition,” Alicia reminded me.

“One time doesn’t make a tradition,” I protested. I Was standing at the base of the tree now, and she was already about ten feet up the trunk.

She wrapped her legs around the tree, hung upside down, and stroked her pussy with both hands. “You talk too much,” she told me. “My mouth is waiting. And not for talking.”

Hell! I started climbing the tree.

Alicia let me get within licking distance of her clitty before she resumed climbing. Every so often she’d stop again and let me get in my licks. A couple of times she did her upside-down act and took some scintillating puffs on Old Lucifer. It was a little like engaging in oral foreplay games with an energetic orangutan. On the other hand, it was exciting enough to make me ready for orgasm once again by the time We reached the top of the palm tree.

It wasn’t that simple, however, to resume the position we’d established on the ground before. Palm fronds kept turning up where my tongue expected to find lust-oiled female organs pulsing for release. And Alicia’s nose was bumped by a coconut she mistook for my scrotum.

When we finally unscrambled our organs from the fruit and fronds of the palm tree, we had other problems. In order to reach Alicia’s yawning vital area, I had to hang my head so low that I became dizzy. And Alicia had to stretch so hard that she got a kink in her neck which forced her to eject Old Lucifer from between her lips.

We made adjustments and compensations. We dared to stretch out and trust our weight to the bower of fronds. We tried again, this time with more success.

The spurs to oncoming orgasm were once again transmitted from our mouths to our organs. Alicia was ready. I was ready. Together we -

Shee-it!

Together we aborted our mission!

You’d think if there was one place in the world a couple could be sure of privacy, the top of a palm tree would be it. That’s what you’d think! But you’d be wrong! You’d be wrong because you wouldn’t have reckoned with --

Charles Putnam!

Jolly Cholly and his hummingbird helicopter! The Edgar Cayce³⁹ of coitus interruptus! I looked up from the tasty morsel I was mouthing to find him right at eye level. Alicia noticed the whirlybird at the same time, and she scrambled to cover herself (and her activity) with some palm fronds. The two of us were so taken aback that we damn near fell out of the bloody palm tree!

“Mr. Victor!” Putnam hailed me merrily.

“I thought your name was Powers,” Alicia whispered, confused.

“I’ll explain later,” I promised her. “What do you want?” I answered Putnam.

“I want to apologize to you, Mr. Victor. I was unduly harsh in my assessment of your handling of the assignment before. But now I’m in possession of all of the facts and I feel I owe you an apology.”

“I accept the apology,” I told him. “Good night.”

“One moment, Mr. Victor. Don’t you want to know what caused the explosion that destroyed former President Nicholas Swillhouse Dickson?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me whether I want to know or not,” I sighed.

“I knew you’d be interested. Well, he didn’t self-destruct as Rococco thought. At least not deliberately. What happened was that somebody shot him and the bullet hit his self-destruct button.”

“What about my button?” Alicia whispered to me impatiently.

“Who shot him?” I couldn’t help asking.

“Either Marsha Twitchell, Dotty Whiskers, or Rosalie Forest. All three fired at him with long-range rifles at the same time. We’re not sure which one of them actually hit him. We found the guns in the bushes, you see. With their fingerprints on them. When we confronted the ladies, they broke down and confessed.”

I remembered the first attempt on Dickson with high-powered rifles. At first I’d been sure Rococco’s hoods were responsible. But then I’d come across the three women in the woods, and near them I’d found three high-powered rifles still warm from being fired. Rococco’s hoods had confused things, but now it was clear that the three women must have been responsible for that first attempt.

“What was their motive?” I Wondered.

“They were working for D.O.P.E. They were zealously devoted to the D.O.P.E. cause.”

“I don’t understand. Why did D.O.P.E. want Dickson dead?”

“The same reason the country forced him out of presidential office,” Putnam told me.

“Huh?”

“Think back, Mr. Victor. In the ultimate analysis, was Nicholas Swillhouse Dickson pushed into becoming the first deposed President of the United States because he tried to cover up the breaking into of the opposition political party’s headquarters? Because he accepted campaign contributions in exchange for raising buttermilk price supports and/or arranging to have dropped an antitrust action against I.L.L.? Because he tried to cheat the government out of several hundred thousand dollars in income taxes? Because he indirectly okayed the break-in into the office of the astrologer of a man being prosecuted by the federal government? Because he established his own secret police with powers beyond all constitutional restrictions? Because he established Enemy lists and tried to use federal agencies to harass his foes? Were any or all of these the reason he was forced out of office, Mr. Victor? They were not! The plain truth is that Nicholas Swillhouse Dickson was forced out of office because he committed the one crime which the society of American people could not countenance. He used dirty language. He cursed. He had a bad mouth!”

“Yeah,” I remembered. “That’s right. They ditched him because of all those deleted expletives.”

“And that’s why D.O.P.E. wanted him killed,” Putnam summed up. “As the foremost living proponent of the removed expletive, he had to be destroyed -- actually as well as symbolically.”

“They didn’t know he was a robot,” I realized.

“I’m not a robot!” Alicia hissed. “I’m flesh and blood. Warm flesh and hot blood. Remember?”

“No, they didn’t know,” Putnam agreed. “But it’s lucky for us he was a robot. Now we can hush the whole thing up and rebuild him and nobody will be the wiser. Only this time President Nicholas Swillhouse Dickson will be under our control!”

“You mean you’re going to bring Dickson back to life?”

“As far as the world is concerned, it will be like tonight never happened,” Putnam said smugly.

“Old Presidents never die,” I reflected. “They only rust away!”

“I’m going to rust away!” Alicia announced. “If you don’t start paying some attention to me.”

“Good-bye, Mr. Putnam.” I decided she was right. It was time to end this conversation.

“Just a minute, Victor. I’ve got something for you. A souvenir.” He reached out of the helicopter and handed me a metallic gadget about the size of a pack of cigarettes.

“What is it?”

“The voicebox from the Dickson robot.” Putnam chuckled. “I thought you’d like to have it. Just push that button to activate it,” he called out as the chopper rose up above the palm tree and headed away. “Good-bye, Mr. Victor.”

I didn’t bother answering his good-bye. Nor did I bother fiddling with the gismo he’d given me. I had more important things with which to fiddle. Namely, Alicia and her various fixtures.

I put my mouth where my memory was. She did likewise. I kissed. She sucked. I nibbled. She licked. I tongued. She lapped. I came! She came!

We came!

Together!

Orally!

It was super. We damn near fell out of the tree again with the thrashings which accompanied our orgasms. And one of the inadvertent results of those ecstatic thrashings was that one of us tripped the mechanism which activated President Nicholas Swillhouse Dickson’s voicebox. Thus, in the throes of our mutual climax, this was the music which assailed our ears:

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear . . . wallowing in Watergate . . . [Expletive removed]! . . . Executive privilege! . . . [Adjective omitted] . . . One year of Watergate is enough . . . [Characterization deleted]! . . . I am not a crook! . . . I am not a crook! . . . I am not a crook! . . .”

Alicia and I changed position and embarked on good old plain, old-fashioned ordinary sexual intercourse.

“I am not a crook! . . . I am not a crook! . . . I am not a crook! . . .”

It was music to be screwed by!

Notes

[←1 ]

Pun on president Richard Milhous Nixon, involved in the Watergate affair (telephone bugs placed in the offices of the Democratic party). By late 1973, the Watergate scandal escalated, costing Nixon much of his political support. On August 9, 1974, he resigned in the face of almost certain impeachment and removal from office. -- This novel was probably written, just before the resignation, while impeachment and deposition were very much actual possibilities.

[←2 ]

The 1970s energy crisis was a period when the major industrial countries of the world, particularly the United States, Canada, Western Europe, Japan, Australia, and New Zealand, faced substantial petroleum shortages, real and perceived, as well as elevated prices. The two worst crises of this period were the 1973 oil crisis and the 1979 energy crisis, when the Yom Kippur War and the Iranian Revolution triggered interruptions in Middle Eastern oil exports. Mark refers to the 1973 crisis.

[←3 ]

Nixon entered the race for the US Senate in November 1949. He engaged in a contentious campaign in which the ongoing Korean War was a major issue. During this campaign, Nixon was first called "Tricky Dick" by his opponents for his campaign tactics.

[←4 ]

As narrated in Here’s your O.R.G.Y.

[←5 ]

Gloria Marie Steinem (born March 25, 1934) is an American feminist, journalist, and social political activist who became nationally recognized as a leader and a spokeswoman for the American feminist movement in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

[←6 ]

Pun on Charles Gregory "Bebe" Rebozo (November 17, 1912 – May 8, 1998) was a Florida banker and businessman who became infamous for being a friend and confidant of President Richard Nixon.

[←7 ]

The Katzenjammer Kids is an American comic strip created and drawn by Rudolph Dirks and also drawn by Harold H. Knerr for 35 years (1914 to 1949). The two artists worked for competing journals, and were involved in huge legal suits. After settlement, the Dirks version was called The Captain and the Kids.

[←8 ]

Pun on Henry Kissinger.

[←9 ]

This does not match the Kissinger curriculum. Kissinger served as National Security Advisor and Secretary of State under President Richard Nixon, and continued as Secretary of State under Nixon's successor Gerald Ford. On Nixon's last full day in office, in the meeting where he informed Ford of his intention to resign the next day, he advised Ford that he felt it was very important that he keep Kissinger in his new administration, to which Ford agreed.

[←10 ]

Pun on president Gerald Ford.

[←11 ]

Pun on Martha Beall Mitchell, John Mitchell’s wife (see a further footnote).

[←12 ]

Pun on John Newton Mitchell (September 15, 1913 – November 9, 1988) who was the Attorney General of the United States (1969–72) under President Richard Nixon.

[←13 ]

Pun an Dita Beard – See following note.

[←14 ]

This refers, pun-wise, to the situation where the International Telephone and Telegraph Corporation, a.k.a. I.T.T. needed to settle anti-trust suits by the DOJ and it needed DOJ approval of its merger with Hartford Fire Insurance. The settlement of I.T.T.’s legal troubles happened in 1971. At nearly the same time, I.T.T. pledged $400,000 for the 1972 Republican National Convention to be held in San Diego. President Nixon’s White House tapes showed that Nixon personally intervened in the I.T.T. settlement with the DOJ. On February 29, 1972, syndicated columnist Jack Anderson reported on an inter-office memo from an I.T.T. lobbyist, Dita Beard, which indicated that the $400,000 pledge for the RNC convention was in exchange for the DOJ’s anti-trust settlement.

[←15 ]

Pun on Rose Mary Woods (December 26, 1917 – January 22, 2005), Richard Nixon's secretary from his days in Congress in 1951, through the end of his political career.

[←16 ]

(Probable) pun on Robert Henry "Bob" Abplanalp (April 4, 1922 – August 30, 2003), an American inventor and engineer who invented the modern form of the aerosol valve. Abplanalp was a close friend and supporter of former US President Richard M. Nixon, Nixon's immediate family, and Nixon's long-time confidant, Charles "Bebe" Rebozo.

[←17 ]

Pun on Ron Ziegler.

[←18 ]

"In like Flynn" is a slang phrase meaning "having quickly or easily achieved a goal or gained access as desired". In addition to its general use, the phrase is sometimes used to describe success in sexual seduction. The title of the film In Like Flint (1967) is a play on the phrase.

[←19 ]

Reference to Nixon’s frequent use to coarse language. Also, the transcripts of the Watergate tapes had all expletives redacted in this fashion.

[←20 ]

The Katzenjammer Kids comic featured Hans and Fritz

[←21 ]

Long reach pun on Spiro Agnew. Spiro Agnew's father was born Theophrastos Anagnostopoulos, in Greece.

[←22 ]

Jack Benny (February 14, 1894 – December 26, 1974) was an American comedian, vaudevillian, radio, television and film actor, and violinist. Recognized as a leading 20th-century American entertainer, Benny often portrayed his character as a miser, playing his violin badly, and claiming to be 39 years of age, regardless of his actual age. Benny was known for his comic timing and the ability to cause laughter with a pregnant pause or a single expression, such as his signature exasperated "Well!"

[←23 ]

Reference to Howard Hughes, an American business magnate, investor, record-setting pilot, film director, and philanthropist, known during his lifetime as one of the most financially successful individuals in the world. He first made a name for himself as a film producer, and then became an influential figure in the aviation industry. Later in life, he became known for his eccentric behavior and reclusive lifestyle—oddities that were caused in part by a worsening obsessive–compulsive disorder.

[←24 ]

To prevent Dita Beard from testifying before the 1972 -1973 Watergate Grand Jury investigation of high crimes at the highest level of government, she was kidnapped by the White House Plumbers and secreted out of Washington DC, and forcible hospitalized in Denver, CO. The White House Plumbers, sometimes simply called the Plumbers, was a covert White House Special Investigations Unit, established July 24, 1971, during the presidency of Richard Nixon. Its task was to stop the leaking of classified information, such as the Pentagon Papers, to the news media. Their membership is the subject of speculation.

[←25 ]

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, often referred to as just Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, is an absurdist, existential tragicomedy by Tom Stoppard, first staged at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 1966. The play expands upon the exploits of two minor characters from Shakespeare's Hamlet, the courtiers Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

[←26 ]

Four days after the arrests at the Watergate Hotel, Martha Mitchell called a UPI reporter from Newport, California claiming : "They threw me down on the bed, five men, and stuck a needle in my behind. A doctor stitched my fingers after the battle with five guards." Martha's telephone conversation was bugged. Her room was entered, the phone was pulled from the wall, and the silencing treatment began. A security agent from the Committee to Re-elect President Nixon gave Martha an injection in her behind and a doctor was called to stitch up her finger. Martha became a political prisoner in her own house.

[←27 ]

Obvious parody of the Exorcist, an American 1973-movie based on William Peter Blatty's 1971 horror novel of the same name.

[←28 ]

William Penn Adair "Will" Rogers (November 4, 1879 – August 15, 1935) was a stage and motion picture actor, vaudeville performer, American cowboy, humorist, newspaper columnist, and social commentator from Oklahoma. He was a Cherokee citizen born in the Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory.

[←29 ]

Samuel James "Sam" Ervin Jr. (September 27, 1896 – April 23, 1985) was an American politician. During his Senate career, Ervin was a legal defender of racial segregation, as the South's constitutional expert during the congressional debates on civil rights. Unexpectedly, he became a liberal hero for his support of civil liberties. He is remembered for his work in the investigation committees that brought down Senator Joseph McCarthy in 1954 and especially for his investigation of the Watergate scandal in 1972 that led to the resignation of Richard Nixon.

[←30 ]

Daniel Irvin Rather Jr. (born October 31, 1931) is an American journalist and the former news anchor for the CBS Evening News. As a White House news correspondent, he accused Nixon of not cooperating with grand jury investigation and House Judiciary Committee in relation to the Watergate scandal.

[←31 ]

Jean-Paul Charles Aymard Sartre (21 June 1905 – 15 April 1980) was a French philosopher, playwright, novelist, political activist, biographer, and literary critic. He was one of the key figures in the philosophy of existentialism and phenomenology, and one of the leading figures in 20th-century French philosophy and Marxism. His work has also influenced sociology, critical theory, post-colonial theory, and literary studies, and continues to influence these disciplines. Sartre was also noted for his open relationship with Simone de Beauvoir. Together, Sartre and de Beauvoir challenged the cultural and social assumptions and expectations of their upbringings, which they considered bourgeois, in both lifestyle and thought. De Beauvoir (9 January 1908 – 14 April 1986) was a French writer, intellectual, existentialist philosopher, political activist, feminist and social theorist. Though she did not consider herself a philosopher, she had a significant influence on both feminist existentialism and feminist theory

[←32 ]

Brigitte Anne-Marie Bardot (born 28 September 1934) is a French actress, singer, dancer, and fashion model, who later became an animal rights activist. She was one of the best known sex symbols of the 1950s and 1960s and was widely referred to by her initials, B.B. She appeared as lead in a number of movies where she wasn’t shy of exposing her body.

[←33 ]

Reference to Operation Paperclip, which was a post-World War II secret program of the Joint Intelligence Objectives Agency (JIOA) largely carried out by Special Agents of the Army, in which more than 1,600 German scientists, engineers, and technicians, such as Wernher von Braun and his V-2 rocket team, were recruited in post-Nazi Germany and taken to the U.S. for government employment, primarily between 1945 and 1959. Many were former members, and some were former leaders, of the Nazi Party. In a secret directive circulated on September 3, 1946, President Truman officially approved Operation Paperclip. The New York Times, Newsweek and other media outlets exposed Paperclip as early as December 1946. Albert Einstein, Eleanor Roosevelt and Rabbi Steven Wise publicly opposed the program, and according to a Gallup poll, most Americans at the time considered it a “bad” idea. It went on and opposition abated until the operation became “forgotten” by the public at large, certainly at the time of writing. Numerous studies and books started to appear on the subject since President Clinton signed the Nazi War Crimes Disclosure Act in 1998.

[←34 ]

During his teen years, Fred Waring (June 9, 1900 – July 29, 1984), his brother Tom, and their friend Poley McClintock founded the Waring-McClintock Snap Orchestra, which evolved into Fred Waring's Banjo Orchestra. His Banjo Orchestra became so successful that he decided to abandon his education to tour with the band, which eventually became known as Fred Waring and His Pennsylvanians . Fred Waring was sometimes referred to as "America's Singing Master" and "The Man Who Taught America How to Sing". Kathryn Elizabeth Smith (May 1, 1907 – June 17, 1986), known professionally as Kate Smith and The First Lady of Radio, was an American singer, a contralto, best known for her rendition of Irving Berlin's "God Bless America".

[←35 ]

At the time of writing, flying armed was not much of a problem. And certainly not on a private flight.

[←36 ]

James Francis Durante (February 10, 1893 – January 29, 1980) was an American singer, pianist, comedian, and actor. His distinctive clipped gravelly speech, Lower East Side Manhattan accent, comic language-butchery, jazz-influenced songs, and prominent nose helped make him one of America's most familiar and popular personalities of the 1920s through the 1970s.

[←37 ]

Barry Morris Goldwater (January 2, 1909 – May 29, 1998) was an American politician, businessman, and author who was a five-term United States Senator from Arizona (1953–65, 1969–87) and the Republican Party's nominee for President of the United States in 1964. Despite his loss of the 1964 presidential election in a landslide, Goldwater is the politician most often credited with sparking the resurgence of the American conservative political movement in the 1960s. While he had supported other federal civil rights measures, Goldwater was a vocal opponent of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

[←38 ]

Reference to Hitler’s death or presumed survival. Bussinger had a German youth.

[←39 ]

Edgar Cayce (March 18, 1877 – January 3, 1945) was an American clairvoyant who answered questions on subjects as varied as healing, reincarnation, wars, Atlantis, and future events while claiming to be in a trance.

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