Chapter 5

Like Ella Montefusco and so many women who had traveled "the same road before her," Rona Everson became a model parolee. Once a week she visited Al Bombannente in the privacy of his small office and always begged for the privilege of blowing him. After locking the door to his office, Al always complied. Here, in the office, when he came, he had to be silent about it. Luckily Rona always came too, and her gullet was so filled with his cock, her muffled gasps were never heard beyond the room.

Rona Everson not only abandoned her previous habit of helping dope addicts by either giving the dope away or selling it to them at cost, but threw herself into her new role of rehabilitator. She went to work for one of the small clinics that helped those addicted to dope who wanted to break the habit. She used her vagina and her mouth to truly telling effect, and men who had been incapable of potency because of the drug habit, became aroused because of the different sexy ways Rona did things. Not only that, but she made sex so thrillingly enjoyable for them, she was actually able to get more than ninety percent of the men she worked with to stay away from heroin. Considering the normal rate of addicts truly rehabilitated throughout the country was less than five percent, Rona was achieving remarkable success.

When she confided what she was doing, to Al, he told her, "I'm not supposed to hear any of this, so I'm going to forget you've told it to me. Just be careful, honey. Unfortunately, the law frowns on such behavior, no matter how good it is, and no matter how much good it does. Just be discreet and pick your addicts with great care."

"Mmmmmmm!" Rona nodded, her mouth crammed full of his cock.

Al Bombannente wasn't the only parole officer who rated sex high on his list of cures for parolee ills. Judy Borgen, one of the female officers who worked in the same office as Al, also believed in it. Though she wasn't the kind who was able to swing bi-sexually, she often worked out an arrangement whereby some of her male parolees and some of her female parolees took out their frustrations on one another. The only thing she insisted on was being there to make sure the male didn't harm the female in any way, or vice-versa.

Judy was a short girl, well-built, endowed with a pretty face, a charming disposition, and an innate knowledge of people. She had short, curly brown hair, bright, glistening eyes which she hid behind dark glasses so no one was able to see the veiled lust in them, a small nose, a full pair of lips, and a long, slender neck.

At the present time she was trying to rehabilitate one Albert Karnstein, a short, weasel-faced man with a long nose, curly black hair which he kept long enough to cover his stuck-out ears, and a small Hitler mustache which he thought would make his nose look smaller. Bert, as he was known non-affectionately by everyone who came into contact with him, was a three-time loser, and this was his last chance. If he went back in the next time, it would be for good. The only trouble was, Judy was unable to get this across to the five-foot-five-inch megalomaniac.

Although Judy had not used her sex treatment on Bert yet, she decided, as a last resort, if this didn't bring the man around, nothing would. It went without saying that the thought of such a slimy, pimple-faced weasel putting his hands on her was something she would never tolerate. However, she did have one girl who had just come under her control, and the girl, who was plain, though not unattractive, needed reassurance.

Ann Mason had only one boy friend in her entire life, and he had proven his affection for her by leaving her with some stolen money when the police came looking for him. The police knew the money was in her possession, she was booked as an accessory.

Ann had served two years, and when she came out, her hair had started turning white. She was still slightly overweight, though she had lost a considerable amount of weight inside. Her breasts were soft and lumpy, yet they somehow managed to hold up, and by some miracle her waistline had pinched in, even if her belly was slightly rounded.

Bert Karnstein had never had a woman. Granted, he had always thought of himself as something super-special, megalomania running rampant in his entire family, but hard as he had tried to get a woman, he had been unsuccessful in his short span of thirty years. Considering that he had spent ten of those years in different prisons, it was not too surprising. He had committed three robberies, had been caught each time, and had gone to prison each time. The first time he had served a year of a three year sentence. The second time he had served three years of a seven year sentence, and the third time he had served six years of a fifteen year sentence. However the parole board never seemed to learn, and Bert was back on the streets again, out on parole, this time assigned to Judy Borgen. Judy Borgen was almost certain rehabilitation with this man was futile, but she was going to give it one last try.

Bert didn't know what to expect when he followed Judy Borgen into the run-down apartment building. His mind was on the trim, luscious form of the twenty-eight-year-old parole officer, and he would have given anything if she had let him bang her. Hell! Maybe that was why she had brought him here. He was always the supreme egomaniac, certain that one day he would meet a female who would see in him all the things he saw in himself.

When Judy pushed open the door to apartment 3C, what Bert saw was something beyond what he had expected. This was the apartment in which Ann Mason now lived.

The apartment, though small, was considerably larger than the one-room dump where he was presently flopping. It had a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom with a single gigantic king-sized bed in the middle of the room, looking like an enormous playground. The room itself was painted a garish purple, and there were red, blue, and purple light bulbs in unshaded lamps all over the room.

What really made Bert's eyes pop was the white-haired woman, obviously not much older than himself, in the middle of the bed. She was bare-assed naked, and she was rhythmically pumping a thick, gleaming white cylinder in and out of the still brown- haired V between her slackly splayed thighs. She was pumping it in and out in time to a tune she was humming.

The steam radiator in the corner was hissing, making the room feel like an oven. Bert took off his black leather jacket, revealing his cheap blue shirt and black pants underneath. Judy also removed her coat, and she was clad in a gray-green dress with long sleeves and a matching jacket. The psychedelic colors in the room made Ann Mason's gleaming white naked body look good to Bert Karnstein. She lay on the bed, totally concentrating on her lewd manner of self-fulfillment. She didn't pay much attention to Bert's and Judy's entrance.

"Ann," Judy snapped, "didn't I tell you not to do things like that? You know, you might damage yourself."

Ann merely smiled and pulled the slick, shiny cylinder from her tight pussy, and Bert realized it was a long, thick Christmas candle. The juicy pink lips of her clamping cunt seemed to cling to the candle like a sucking mouth, and when she plunged it back into herself, she grunted with a certain satisfaction. From time to time she took a drag from a cigarette, and Judy realized, from the smell of it, it was pure tobacco and nothing else. Ann had no intention of doing anything that would send her back inside.

Today was Saturday, and in the privacy of her own apartment she was able to do anything she wished, including masturbating with a convenient candle. Not even Judy Borgen was able to stop her from doing that, and when Judy had phoned earlier to tell Ann she was coming over with a surprise, Ann had decided to surprise Judy by stripping down and letting the parole officer see her naked body on the bed, this way. She hadn't expected Judy to bring a man with her, but when the man had come in and Ann had finally become aware of him, she knew what Judy intended.

Bert felt his limp cock solidly lurch in his pants as it began swelling. He stood there, wide-eyed, salivating hungrily and observing just what it was the white-haired woman was doing. She was shamelessly masturbating to a climax. Bert saw the woman was really getting hot now because of the way her pelvis was starting to snap upward on every driving instroke of the candle as it continually vanished between her thighs. She grunted each time she pushed the candle out very slowly, its wetly glistening length shining as she prepared to ram it into her all the harder.

Though Judy shuddered at the thought of touching Bert Karnstein, she knew he wouldn't really make a move until she did something to let him know it was all right for him to act. He was shaken up when he felt her hand unzip his fly. He was even more shaken up when she reached into said fly and pulled out his small penis, already as long and as hard as it was going to grow, and she began tugging it back and forth, keeping perfect time with the way Ann was fucking herself with the candle.

Reluctantly, the man tore his eyes away from the thrillingly lascivious sight on the bed and looked down at the way Judy's hand was gripping his cock. The beautiful curly haired woman was grinning mischievously at him with sparkling eyes that looked unbelievable now that she had taken off her dark glasses. There was no question that Judy was a knockout, prettier by far than the white-haired woman with dark circles under her eyes who lay on the bed. Still, the nakedness of the woman on the bed made her look unnaturally sexy, so suggestive of total and complete erotic abandon, that he felt himself drawn to her.

"Well will you look at the present my parole officer has brought me," Ann Mason said aloud.

Bert Karnstein stared at the bed and the woman lying on it, and he dribbled a little. The white haired woman was watching him with an amused smile on her prematurely pouchy face. She had stopped jerking the candle in and out of her vagina, but with the candle inside, and with her legs widely splayed, he was able to see part of the candle sticking out from the hairy lips of her sucking cunt.

"Come on over here, whatever-your-name-is," she said to Bert, beckoning to him. "Let's see what you have between your legs, and then maybe I can spare this candle for another time. It doesn't look like much from here, but I think it'll fit."

As if he were suddenly being tugged by some powerful magnetic force, the man walked away from Judy Borgen and moved toward the woman who was lying on the bed amidst a series of colorful throw pillows. His thinly distended cock was jutting out of his fly, pointing the way before him.

As he neared the bed, Ann rolled from the middle of the bed to the edge to take a closer look at the penis. Prison had hardened her, and because she no longer looked attractive to most men, she had come to the point where any cock, any cock at all, looked good to her.

"Oh, I like the look of that," she purred appreciatively, and she reached out a slender hand, white with prison pallor to touch the dome-shaped head of the skinny little man's throbbing penis. It was the second time in as many minutes that a feminine hand had touched his cock, and it took all Bert Karnstein's willpower not to shoot. Ann gave the tip a sharp little pinch which sent a lightning flash of mixed pain and delight charging through every tingling nerve end in Bert's shuddering body. Jesus, the bitch really knew how to touch a guy just right. She must have seen him ready to boil over with lust, and instead of grabbing his cock and making him shoot, she had pinched him in just the right place to make the feeling inside him recede. Bert had no idea who she was or why Judy had brought him together with the white-haired woman, but he was willing to bet the broad had already learned more ways of giving and taking pleasure sexually than he would ever learn. The white hair and the young, albeit pouchy face made her look mystical, almost witch-like, and there was that look about her that made him associate her with dark practices and strange, secret rites. Yet she was young, he was sure of that, younger than himself. She darted a quizzical, challenging look up at him from under her grey, arched brows, and said, "YOU tell me, man, do you know what to do with this pecker of yours besides piss?"

"I'm sure if I don't, you'll be more than happy to teach me, won't you," he said.

"I want the two of you to enjoy each other," Judy said to them. "I think if you like one another and want to live together- -without my knowledge, of course--it might be enough to straighten out both your lives. How about it?"

"I'm willing," Ann said. "Now it's up to skinny here with the Hitler mustache. Hey, you know Judy, you're all right. You really know what a girl needs, don't you. Hell! I'll bet not many parole officers can look into a person's soul and see what it is he or she really needs. Tell me, are you gonna hang around and watch, or d'you think we can be left alone?"