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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 1968 by paperback Library Inc.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Popular Library

  Hachette Book Group

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  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our Web site at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  First eBook Edition: May 2008

  ISBN: 978-0-446-54047-6

  Contents

  THE COXEMAN’S MISSION WAS TO PENETRATE THE ENEMY

  OTHER BOOKS IN THIS SERIES BY TROY CONWAY

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE COXEMAN’S MISSION WAS TO PENETRATE THE ENEMY

  But the nine nymphs, part of the scientific laboratory, were determined to make it as hard as possible for him.

  Rod was a man of action and he could not allow anything to stop him from reaching the power-mad scientist whose twisted mind confused sex with the ability to rule the world. While his co-workers developed The Bomb, he entertained himself with the most unusual harem ever devised by man.

  Trapped in a love cycle that could finish him, Rod knows he must not lower his guard for a moment. Somehow he must discover and defuse the bomb or nobody would remain alive in a climax that would be the biggest bang in history.

  Other Books In This Series

  By Troy Conway

  The Cockeyed Cuties

  Don’t Bite Off More Than You Can Chew

  A Hard Act to follow

  The Billion-Dollar Snatch

  The Wham! Bam! Thank You, ma’am Affair

  Come One, Come All

  Last Licks

  Keep It Up, Rod

  The Man-Eater

  The Best Laid Plans

  It’s What’s Up Front That Counts

  Had Any Lately?

  Whatever Goes Up

  A Good Peace

  I’d Rather Fight Than Swish

  Just A Silly Millimeter Longer

  The Big Broad Jump

  The Sex Machine

  The Blow-Your-Mind Job

  The Cunning Linguist

  Will the Real Rod Please Stand Up?

  All Screwed Up

  The Master Baiter

  Turn the Other Sheik

  It’s Not How Long You Make it

  Son of a Witch

  The Penetrator

  A Stiff Proposition

  The Harder You Try, The Harder It Gets

  Up and Coming

  CHAPTER ONE

  They were succulently soft, fantastically firm and gorgeously golden. They were high and proud, radiant and round, cuddlesome and caressable. They were, in a word, exquisite—as exquisite and inviting as breasts can be.

  And they were mine to do with as I wished—all four of them.

  My eyes pored appreciatively over the shimmering expanse of their loveliness. Then my palms closed over the pair on the sides while my face burrowed eagerly between the two in the middle. My tongue traced playful patterns over the captivating curves of one, My neck rubbed rapturously against the bewitching beauty of the other.

  A duet of soft, sensuous purrs told me that I was doing exactly what my plural paramours wanted, but for the moment I was less interested in what they wanted than in what was wanted by the third doll in the room—a small, sloe-eyed, stern-faced but still super-sexy bundle of loveliness named Lin Saong.

  She sat fully clothed in a chair alongside the bed where my playmates and I were frolicking. Her soft, brown, almond-shaped eyes were scrutinizing us carefully. In one hand she held a cup of tea. In the other she held a snub-nosed forty-five automatic, leveled at my ahead.

  “You needn’t spend too much time in those activities which you Occidentals refer to as ‘foreplay,’ Dr. Damon,” she said quietly. “We Orientals believe that the female’s sole purpose in the sex act is to accommodate the male.”

  “As a sex expert, Madame Saong,” I replied, momentarily taking my lips from the quivering nipple of the golden-skinned cutie on my right, “I can assure you that Foreplay is essential to successful sexual union, whether Oriental or Occidental.”

  “I’m not interested in successful sexual union, Doctor, “she said curtly. “I’m interested in determining whether you are in fact the sex expert which you claim to be.” She gestured impatiently with her forty-five. “Now, please proceed.”

  I promptly went to work south of the border. My facile fingers found their way along two creamy valleys of satin-smooth flesh, then came to rest between two pairs of tantalizing thighs.

  The thighs parted invitingly as I neared their apex. At the same time, two slender hands closed around the ramrod-rigid proof of my virility and two others hungrily groped at the cleft between my buttocks.

  “Mmmmmm,” murmured a velvety voice at my left.

  “Mmmmmm,” echoed another on my right.

  “We’re wasting time, Doctor,” prodded pistol-packing Lin Saong. “Please be so kind as to—in the American idiom—get the show on the road.”

  The “show,” as she called it, was one of the many three-person sex positions described in the classic Japanese love manuel, Hikatsu-sho, or “Book of Secrets.” To prove to Lin Saong that I was a bona-fide sex expert and not just some impostor, I had to demonstrate three of the positions in the book. According to our arrangement, she would identify the position I was to demonstrate only by telling me the name it was given in the book. For example, “Position of the Mysterious Pearl and the Two Crabs.” Then, without consulting the text, I had to assume the position with the twin playmates she had supplied for the demonstration.

  But there was more to the positions of Hikatsu-sho than mere sexual gymnastics. The anonymous author of that venerable Japanese erotic classic had stated explicitly that each party in the sex act must achieve orgasm—and all at the same time. I reminded Lin Saong of this, and I said, “Without adequate foreplay, out little show is going to—in the American idiom—lay a big fat egg.”

  She unscrambled the mixed metaphors and her brow furrowed. I could see that she wasn’t quite prepared for the last curve I threw her.

  The reason for her unpreparedness was simple. Lin Saong wasn’t Japanese. She was Chinese. More precisely, she was Communist Chinese. After Mao and his bully boys overthrew the Nationlist government in 1949 every erotic book on the Chinese mainland was destroyed. Consequently a whole generation had grown to maturity without being aware of the sexual practices and sexual literature of China’s Golden Age.

  Now, Lin Saong, as a member of Red China’s new generation—and, incidentally, as a member of CHILLER, the Red Chinese all-female espionage agency—had come to test my erotic expertise. Since she had no genuine Chinese erotic works to use as a model for the test, she had had to borrow from the erotic lore of Japan. But she evidently hadn’t read the entire book that she planned to test me on.

  “Well,” she said blushingly after a moment, “use foreplay if you must. But please be quick about it. Remember that while we dally here an enemy of both your country and mine is perfecting a bomb that coul
d be as formidable as any weapon either of our countries has in its arsenal. Every minute counts.”

  “If you’re in such a hurry, “I shot back, “why don’t you just dispense with the test?”

  She hesitated for a moment, as if giving the suggestion serious consideration. Then, smiling slightly, she reasserted her old authority. “Unless you prove beyond a doubt that you’re the export my agency has told you are, I can’t risk sharing with you the information we’ve acquired.”

  I could’ve debated with her. I could’ve argued, for example, that the United States wouldn’t have sent me on this mission unless I were the sex expert whom everybody seemed to agree was the only person who could do the job. Or I could’ve pointed out that she herself evidently knew so little about sex that no matter what I did with the two girls, she’d really have no way of knowing whether I was a sex expert or not.

  But I didn’t feel like arguing. And I did feel like getting back to the project at hand, namely what Hikatsu-sho described as “Positions of The Mysterious Pearl and The Two Crabs.” Reimmersing my face in the twin cushions formed by my dual lovelies’ breasts, I murmured, “Okay, Madame Saong, the show will go on.” They I brought my fingers back into play against the delicate folds of my playmates’ most sensitive parts.

  Twin purrs of delight told me that my golden-skinned partners were glad I was getting down to business. As a matter of fact, judging from the way the gals began writhing and moaning. I was the best thing that had happened to them since the day they discovered that boys and girls are truly different. Obviously nearly twenty years of Mao’s anti-sex propaganda hadn’t extinguished their natural urge to merge.

  And they weren’t exactly the worst thing that had happened to me either. It’s not every day that a guy finds himself in bed with a delicious duo like these dolls—even if the guy is the world’s foremost authority on sex.

  Their soft, smooth bodies, pressing lovingly against my arms and chest, set off hot sparks of passion deep inside me. The gentle, undulating movements of their hips worked hard at fanning the sparks into flame. The slow, provocative caresses of their slender hands on my excited manhood let me know that when the flame came it would be one hell of a conflagration.

  I probed deeper and deeper into the love-starved recesses between their thighs. In reply, the twin cuties began writhing all the more passionately. The doll at my right found my neck with her lips and nibbled on it fiercely. The one on my left brought her tender-lipped mouth to my ear, and while teasingly tonguing the lobe, whispered something in Chinese. I don’t understand the language, but it didn’t take too much imagination to realize what she was telling me: she was raring to go.

  Frankly, so was I. but before I went wanted to make sure that my tantalizing twosome were heated up like they’d never been heated up before. I knew that in the days ahead I’d never been heated up before. I knew that in the days ahead I’d need all the help I could get from the girls from CHIILLER. The best way to insure that I’d get it was to make them so hungry for my loving that they could never have enough of it.

  My fingers continued to search out the depths of the delectable caverns which Chinese poets of centuries past have described variously as The Jade Treasure, The Dark Vale, The Heart of the Flower, The Jewel Terrace and The Jade Gate. Each of my movements sent new ripples of excitement through my passion-drenched playmates’ quivering bodies. “Oooooohhhhhhh,” cooed the one at my left. And the one on my right murmured something in Chinese that sounded very much like, “Now!”

  But I still wasn’t ready for the grand finale. Abandoning my nestling place between the dolls’ breasts, I kissed my way up one girl’s throat. Then, after kissing her lightly on the lips, I passionately kissed the other girl. Next I kissed the first girl again, then the second and alternated again and again. The boiling point was getting near.

  With each kiss I maneuvered their faces closer and closer together. Finally the three of our faces were pressed against each other and I was kissing both girls at once. My tongue darted hungrily through one set of lips, then the other. At the same time, the girls’ fiery tongues hungrily probed my mouth.

  Now the twin cuties were really raring to go. Their steeltaut bodies were arched up of the bed. Their hips were pumping away furiously, Their hands clutched at my manhood as if it was The Staff of Life.

  From somewhere behind me I could hear the sensuous panting of a third girl—none other than CHILLER-Chief Lin Saong. It occurred to me that more than five minutes had passed without her saying a single word about cutting short the foreplay. Evidently she was getting her kicks out of the proceedings too.

  But I didn’t spend too much time thinking about Lin Saong. My dynamic duo was all fired up and so was I Hoisting myself up on my hands and knees, I began silently maneuvering the twin cuties into place for The Position of the Mysterious Pearl and the Two Crabs.

  The position drew its name from the oriental euphemisms for the sex organs and the bodily postures involved. A rather free translation of the instructions in Hikatsu-sho reads something like this:

  “Girl Number One kneels before the man, her legs spread wide, her buttocks high in the air and her shoulders flush against the bed. The man crouches over her, entering her from behind in the manner of coitus practiced among beasts. Girl Number Two then lies across Girl Number One’s back, her head being in the same direction as the head of Girl Number One, her legs being draped over the man’s shoulders. The man then brings his mouth to her Mysterious Pearl and proceeds to polish it with his tongue at the same time that he assaults the jade Gate of Girl Number One with his Lotus Stalk.”

  In other words, I was supposed to make it, doggie-style, with Girl Number One at the same time that I went down on Girl Number Two, and according to the part of the book which Lin Saong evidently never got around to reading, all three of us were supposed to have orgasm at the same time.

  Girl Number One obediently slipped into position as I guided her with my hands. She might not have read Hikatsu-sho, but she certainly was no stranger to making it doggie-style. Once I had urged her body into a kneeling position in front of me, her legs parted automatically and her buttocks instinctively rose high into the air. Then I maneuvered my “lotus stalk” into place between them, and she hungrily shimmied against me, immersing the weapon to the hilt. A quiver of delight shook her entire body as I hit bottom, and her hips promptly took up a slow gyrating movement.

  Girl Number Two didn’t get the message quite so quickly. I tried to ease her into place atop Girl Number One’s back, but she didn’t seem to understand what I had in mind. If anything, she seemed a little teed off at me –probably because I had made a play for Girl Number One before I made my play for her.

  I thought of asking Lin Saong to translate into Chinese exactly what I wanted done, but I finally decided that it’d be more fun setting the thing up strictly via nonverbal communication. Taking the miffed cutie’s face in my hands, I kissed her gently on the lips. Then I slowly began kissing my way down her body.

  By the time I reached her bellybutton, she had a pretty good indication that I didn’t plan to stop there, and she suddenly wasn’t miffed anymore. After that it was just a case of guiding her into position and maneuvering her legs over my shoulders. I kissed my way down her smooth golden thighs, which parted obligingly as I neared their zenith. Then my tongue gently invaded the tender folds of her womanhood, and The Mysterious Pearl wasn’t a mystery any longer.

  Girl Number One began gyrating her hips more quickly. The searing heat of her boiling passion-pit sent electric tongues of sensation coarsing through my entire body. I thrust harder, and she responded by gyrating all the more furiously. Her frantic movements told me that she was very close to the proverbial edge of the ledge, which suited me fine, because so was I.

  And so was Girl Number Two. As my tongue flickered hotly over the satin-smooth slickness of her Mysterious Pearl, her thighs scissored wildly around my face and her feet pounded fiercely against my back. He
r hips skittered madly back and forth, and her trim, flat belly began heaving.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” she sighed, or the Chinese equivalent thereof. Then her clenched fists began pounding against the bed in a gesture that needed no translation: she wasn’t merely at the edge of the ledge, she was off it and skyrocketing up, up and away into the orgasmic stratosphere.

  Determined to observe the letter as well as the spirit of the law set down in Hikatsu-sho, I hammered all the harder against the furiously gyrating buttocks of Girl Number One. The first few strokes made her moan. The next few made her groan. And the few after that set off the ecstatic explosion which the boys on Madison Avenue might describe as The Big O. Like Girl Number Two, she was up, up and away—but really AWAY!

  And not a second too soon, because I was right there with her, in a mad moment of supreme bliss, my body erupted into spasm after spasm of overwhelming delight.

  For all of minute neither of us said anything. Our bodies remained in place like three statues in a display of erotic sculpture. The only sound in the room was the cacophonous symphony of our deep breathing. Then, slowly and gently, I eased the legs of Girl Number Two over my head and onto the bed, and disengaged myself from the still quivering Dark Vale of Girl Number One.

  “Well,” I said to Lin Saong, “so much for the first position. Now what would you like for an encore.”

  My gun-wielding examiner looked at me through glazed eyes. Her expression told me that she was nothing less than awe-struck at the performance. I naturally hadn’t paid much attention to her while I was going through my paces, but it was obvious that she had paid a lot of attention to me—and it was equally obvious that the spectacle had moved her. Her tea cup had somehow or other found its way into a night table and her arms were draped lifelessly across her legs, the snub-nosed forty-five automatic dangling impotently between her knees. “Dr. Damon, “she said quietly, “you really know your business.”

  I flashed a self-satisfied smile. “Like I said, Madame Saong, I’m an expert. Now what’s the next test you’ve devised?”