Author: Marcus van Heller

About: Bert and Eli are out of jail, ready for action, and willing to do just about anything to handle their pent-up lust. Of course a pair that wild's gonna run afoul of the law eventually, but they know how to handle themselves on the inside as well. First published 1968, this rather succesful new Marcus was reprinted at least twice by the American Olympia Press.

Excerpt:

“Relax, f'Crissake,” Bert growled. “I thought you done this b'fore.”

Eli paused, his lean face half in shadow, beak nose jutting. “Wish t'fuck I had me a drink.”

“We knock off a good one, you'll get a drink.” Bert was taller, black-haired and broad in the shoulders. He had the face of a rugged movie idol, which he had tried to minimize by a strip of tape over the bridge of his nose. He straightened.

“Somebody's comin'.”

Eli padded around the far side of the car. They had decided on a plan; he hoped Eli would do his job, he'd met the guy only that afternoon. Bert ground out the cigarette. He kept his silhouette low, eyes on the approaching couple. They'd let three couples go on by so far—none of them looked as though they had dough.

Bert smiled faintly. This guy looked richer. The couple came down the lane between cars, talking in low voices. The man was not much taller than the girl, and chunky. The girl wore a light dress and a wrap of some kind. She looked pretty good, as much of her as he could see. He licked his lips. It had been more than a week since he'd had a woman. He reached down and squeezed his nuts. Even the sound of her voice was interesting.

He saw Eli looking at him through the glass of the car. Bert nodded at him. They'd take this guy. He pulled out the revolver and rubbed the barrel against his pantleg. Eli had no gun. He had a short length of cloth-wrapped pipe.

The couple was very close now. Bert took a breath, and stepped out in front of them.

The girl gasped and her hand went to her throat. The man stopped short and his eyes widened. Bert could see the whites all around. That was a bad sign.

“Just stan' still,” he told them in an even voice. “Nobody's gonna get hurt—”

The man was suddenly panting as though he'd run a block. “I haven't got a—” He pushed the girl at Bert suddenly and started to run.

Eli clipped him with the pipe. He went down like a bag of coal. “Stupid son of a bitch,” Eli said.

Bert had caught the girl with one hand. Her arm was round and cool. He stared into her face, close up. She was very pretty. He smelled her perfume, a heady scent. “Yeah,” he said. “You'll do.”

Eli was going through the fallen man's pockets. “Jeez, dough,” he said, holding up a wallet.

“Do for what?” she said.

She didn't seem scared. Bert smiled at her. He put his arm about her slim waist. She didn't move away. When a broad said a thing like that, she already knew the answer. He let his hand drop down; he rubbed her ass and found it firm and round as he had expected.

“Drag that guy outa there,” Bert said. He pulled the girl. “C'mon, honey, let's me an' you take a little walk.”

Eli frowned. “Where the hell you goin'?”

“I'm gonna fuck this broad,” Bert said. She giggled.

He took her almost to the end of the lot, finding a convertible finally. He stopped beside it and pulled her into his arms. She came, breathing hard. The holdup had excited her, he realized. Some dames were like that. Her mouth was hot, her tongue sought his and her willowy body moulded itself to him. He held her tightly, leaning back against the cold body of the car. They kissed lustfully and his hands roved her back, rubbing her, pulling her closer. He could feel her pussy mound moving over his iron cock. She parted her thighs and rubbed it against him hard.