Janice Cartwright slowly untied the knot on her y e l l o w, bandana-like bikini bra. She blushed, tingling strangely at the feeling of letting her firm, taut-nippled breasts be exposed this way, open to the world as if she didn't have any morals or scruples. She hesitated, cupping the cloth which dangled by its now untied string and her heavy, ivory-smooth breasts, feeling the hot flush of embarrassment warm her otherwise naked skin from her breasts up.
"Come on, Mother," her daughter, Karen said in that peculiar impatient urging of a teen-ager. "Take your suit off and join me. I told you that I wanted to sun in the nude, and I'm going to do it, but - " and here she giggled lightly with the innocence of youth - "I need encouragement!"
Already beautifully naked, she wriggled slightly with girlish spasms of pseudo-fright, as if there might really be something wrong for a mother and her only child to be in the nude together, naked and unadorned as the day one bore the other in love and tenderness.
Karen Cartwright, fifteen, only child of Janice and Harlow, had been the instigator of sunning themselves like this. It titillated her to think that she was going to return to school with a tan all over! One which in the girl's shower room would get "gasps" and "ahhs" from the others who hadn't had the chance to be like this, shielded from prying eyes, for only her father was a real estate broker who could arrange a summer cabin surrounded by fiberglas screening. She wasn't going to say anything as her girl friends glanced embarrassedly at the swell of her breasts which would be bronze instead of white, at her sparcely covered pubic mound, with its thin, still virginal young cuntal slit and curly hair, which would be the same deep shade as the rest of her, as she would skip into the showers and let them watch her firm, smoothly rounded little buttocks bounce as she washed herself, knowing that they were all eating their hearts out in envy that their own buttocks weren't as tanned, but showed the tiger stripes of bathing suits.
And she'd not tell then it was all innocent, either. Oh no, not that it wasn't, being here with her mother and nobody else, but she wasn't going to give her friends that satisfaction. She'd just smile lazily and nod her head knowingly, as if maybe she'd been on a wicked, debauching beach somewhere where boys and girls did things like this ... ran around naked, laughing and free, their lithe bodies glistening in the sun and water ... before they spent an evening in pagan worship of their bodies, with couples writhing together in the tumult of making love .. .
Karen Cartwright couldn't help tingling all over at the thought, the forbidden day-dreaming which she, as a budding young woman, occasionally allowed herself in the privacy of her room. Not that she'd ever allowed a boy to actually do anything like that to her ...
She pirouetted once on tiptoe, spreading her arms wide and letting the warm sun smile down on her and spread its rays like the blanket of one of her imaginary lovers, then turned back to her mother, amused that she hadn't yet shed herself of her bathing-suit, or her false modesty. She recalled last year when it had taken so much coaxing to get her mother just to buy a bikini - a,nd a quite prudish one at that. Oh, her father had been appalled! Well, the old goat was appalled at anything, even her strapless formal gown. The dried-up old fuddy-duddy, why couldn't mother have married somebody more alive? More on the ball? I bet they don't even make love anymore.
"Don't you look fine, Mother!" Karen said, with genuine admiration in her voice as she studied the still magnificent form, the ripe body which, closer to forty, still retained the proud, unsullied firmness of a girl in her early twenties. She smiled encouragingly as finally her mother dropped her bra to the sun deck and arched her back tentatively; her breasts, high and a perfect 36C, stood out in all their alabaster majesty.
"Karen, I feel positively wicked doing this," Janice gushed, but somehow she seemed to blossom with this tantalizing freedom.
"Nonsense," Karen exclaimed, "Why, you know that in some European beachs, nobody wears anything, men or women!"
"Karen ! "
"It's the truth, mother, and you shouldn't be afraid of it. There's nothing to be ashamed of either, especially not nudity; nothing could be healthier than a naked body in the out-of-doors. After all, God gave us our bodies and we should be both good to them and proud of them."
"I know, dear, but still ..." She sighed. "I'm an old woman, dear. A woman who can't get over her teachings by her mother, and you know the way your grandmother was."
Karen sat down on one of the towels, previously spread for their afternoon of sunning. "Humph." she said. "You're not an old woman at all, Mother. You only think you should be because of the way Grandmama brought you up, in black ankle-length skirts and whalebone corsets - "
"I'm not that old!" her mother shrieked in mock shock.
"Well, you might have been. And then Father and his ways."
Karen sat down crosslegged, bending forward and pulling at some of the cloth of the towel between her legs. Her breasts hung down until her cherry-tipped nipples nearly brushed her still pale-skinned legs, and as she picked she could see that her sitting position had stretched open the thin little cuntal valley between her thighs, had spread her still unbroken vaginal slit, showing its coral smoothness and the little, now limp, clitoris that she sometimes rubbed. Seeing it there gave her a sudden jump inwardly, a tingling in the loins that always precluded her guilty bouts always lostwhether she should rub her finger up and down her pussy until waves of pleasure came. She never went inside, even though the hole of her sweet, innocent, blushing-pink cunt flowered provocatively, seemed to want to draw her finger inside, to widen the cavern so that she could explore new and better sensations ... she had always managed to resist that, for it was there she was going to have a boy first, a boy who would have placed a ring on her finger even before that. But now, looking down and seeing her twitching vaginal lips swell with unwanted, automatic desire, seeing the beginning droplets of lubrication form on them like dew on the petals of a rose, she inwardly blushed at the way she couldn't control her chemistry, the glandular changes of puberty, and quickly turned her eyes away, back to her mother.
"... Your father is a hard-working man, Karen," her mother was saying. Karen tried to bring her thoughts around to bear on what her mother was talking about, hands on her still cloth-covered hips, a worried frown on her face. "Harlow has been building up his business so we can live in comfort and security, to go to a nice summer place like this - " she waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Lake Stephan, out of sight over the green plastic fence to their left "to give you the finest education and chances."
"Mother." Karen sighed, not w a n t i n g to argue. After all, he was her mother's husband, not her's, and her mother picked him by choice, "Mother, I only mean that for all his working, he is still back in the Victorian era when it comes to treating you and me like human beings. The day when women are chattel and property to be hid when not in use is over, that's all. Look at you! Having to screw up your courage to be what you always have been - a real live woman! Feeling that your body is to be kept in the dark, to deny that most of you is somehow to do with your being a woman.. ."
"Karen, where did you learn all these awful things?"
"In that best education my father has given me," the daughter replied matter-of-factly. "Where truth is explored and what you are is more important than what you should be."
"I'm shocked! I've never heard you talk like this."
"Maybe it's b e c a u s e I haven't been old enough or mature enough to be able to express it. Maybe it's because we haven't had the chance to really be close, to be more than just mother and daughter. Maybe..." and here even Karen, for all her pretense of being a modern, independent girl, had to pause... "maybe because when we strip ourselves of our clothes, we also strip ourselves of our inhibitions ... Do you suppose?"
Janice Cartwright was disturbed at this moment, disturbed because her daughter had, at the tender age of fifteen, put into words what she had learned and felt only after ten years of marriage. What then she had only dared to suspect because of Harlow's lack of interest in her any more as a woman, as a sexual mate, and she had turned in desperation to books on the subject of marital relations, and they had said the same essentially.
Still .. . She looked down at her lovely offspring, gazed tenderly at the way Karen now lay unprotected on the towel with her golden corn-silk hair fanned out behind her head like a radiant halo; at her sweet, snub-nosed, freckled face with its wide, full lips she inherited from her father; at the way her conical young breasts beat with the rhythm of her heart, solid and upright even when in a supine position, not as large but still not fully undeveloped and would someday rival hers, Janice's; at her flat belly and the cute navel and the gentle sloping to her thighs, where a triangle of softly curling pubic hair covered her vagina; then down, in shapely tapering legs to her feet and small, thin toes then back up to where her daughter's blue eyes held hers locked in the solumn seriousness of y o u t h f u l opinion. Still, as she smiled, Janice couldn't help fearing that perhaps her daughter had been given her education her emergance into mature, healthful, expressive womanhood a little early. Isn't there, she said to herself in that instant, a time when a child is supposed to be a child? To be innocent and foolish? To be uneducated and free of the responsibilities of being and adult? Has Karen grown up too fast?
Then she couldn't help but laugh. The world was simply spinning faster these days, that's all; and if a girl of fifteen could be what her own mother still wasn't at thirty-six, then just think what Karen can be when she gets to thirty-six! Stop worrying, for Karen has still the physical innocence, if not the mental ...
"Oh, my darling little Karen, I love you so!" Janice smiled musingly and almost as if she were Karen's age again. "Your father may be old-fashioned, but then again, he is your father, and the only one you have. Do try and treat him with the respect he needs. He does love you, too, you know."
Karen laughed and stood up and in a gesture of whim, seeing that once more her mother was happy and carefree, spread her arms and legs in a horizontal cheerleader jump, a spread-eagled swoop of joy. The cool mountain air whispering off the lake and dipping over the fence blew against her momentarily open vagina, sending a chill racing up her spine and making her pull her legs together again ... She gasped, shuddering as the breeze played with her young silken pubic hair ...
"What's the matter, darling? Are you cold?"
"N-no, mother," the daughter replied, trying to cover the lurid sensation that flicked up between her legs, her flash of sudden prurient feelings. "N-no, only tremendously glad that we're here for two glorious weeks, with nobody to bother us. Just you and me, Mother, just us together."
But they weren't. Hiding in the thick scrub beside their sun deck, his hands straining oar the supports so that he could lean up and see through, the pin-hole in the green fiberglas screening, was a stranger... a man who now felt his giant penis throb against his swimming trunks as he gazed with gleaming eyes at the exciting sight of two beautiful women nakedly sunning themselves, his mind churning with lascivious ideas to how best bring them both under his control, under his body ... He moved away silently, thinking of his camera ...
Janice, unaware that her and Karen's naked bodies were being spied upon by a man, who would have been horrified had she known, but without that fatal knowledge had to agree with her daughter. It was nice up here, nice and peaceful and free. "Yes, Karen, just us."
"In that case, take off those bottoms and join me." Karen said exuberantly. "Here's the oil." She sat up, holding the plastic sun-tan lotion bottle. "And here's the towel." she added, patting the terrycloth. "Come on."
Janice licked her lips, strangely dry all of a sudden. She stood over her naked young daughter, hesitating because never before had she purposely exposed herself so completely in front of anybody except Harlow. Anybody, that is, except Jackson ... and the image of his suave, handsome face and muscular body arching toward her waiting and palpatating nakedness, his thick, excitedly throbbing penis sliding into her wet, eagerly waiting cunt ... Jackson Trendell, her lover ... She gulped at the idea that she had one, had actually entered into such a clandestine relationship with a man, known intercourse with a male other than her husband, made her knees buckle. She brought herself back in time to again smile shyly at her daughter. "Yes ..." she said absently. "Yes, it's about time. I think."
"That's it, Mother," urged Karen.
Yes, it's time, as Karen says, to own up to being a woman. I can't be one with Harlow like I can with Jackson, and I certainly should be with my own. daughter. Almost as if she was undressing for her lover rather than merely removing her bikini bottoms to sun in the nude with her daughter, Janice Cartwright, still a victim of nearly a life-time of repression from her mother and husband, put her thumbs behind the elastic hipband of her bikini and peeled it slowly down over the full rounded spheres of her buttocks.
The effect of her unconsciously seductive, slightly embarrassed, strip was electrifying on two people. One was her daughter, who found herself catching her breath in the pit of her lungs. She leaned on her elbows, u p r i g h t enough to peer with complete, unhampered vision at her mother. Somehow she couldn't take her eyes off the softly moving strands of her pubic hair that slowly became apparent as her mother worked her bikini bottoms down over her curvaceously shaped legs. Her hair, a natural coal-black unlike her daughter's blondeness which also came from Harlow, was a glistening spray of darkness, a blatant exhibition of her sexuality against the long, downy-soft columns of her thighs and legs. As her mother kicked the suit away from her and stretched, Karen felt as if there were suddenly a marble stuck in her throat.
There, she groaned inwardly, there between my mother's legs, is where I came from. Karen stared at her mother, her heart pumping wildly in her chest for some unknown, unthinking reason. She had never been so enamoured with the sight of naked girls, her own sex, before - in the showers and when she'd stayed overnight at her friends' houses she'd seen breasts and nipples and thighs and vaginas, but she'd never reacted this way. It was because this was her mother, her own flesh-and-blood, she dared to explain to herself; an instinctive drawing to the womb which had produced her, an innate curiosity about the secrets of sex which her girl friends, whether they did or didn't know, wouldn't be able to explain to her, legs splayed apart, was the heart of her conception, the place which had accepted a man's penis and had urged it on until its seed was sent shooting up deep inside her. There, softly protected by the curve of hip and soft triangle of pubic hair, were the pink little pussy lips peeking coyly out, the vaginal protuberances which had clung to that surging, hungry penis, just as hungry and demanding as the male who pumped his sperm into her. Karen, trance-like, not realising that her subconscious bond was as strong as it was, could only sense the empathetic ache in her own genitals, feel the personal identification with her mother's sexual responses with her own, barely tried ones - the ones which were like a volcano inside her, ready to burst but held in check by the morals and fears of a virgin. She could project her wishful fantasies as she looked at the vaginal mound and fluted pink cunt of her mother, for there, so close as to almost be able to touch, was the solid essence of all of her unrequited emotions.
The other person engrossed with the hesitant, insinuating-through-slowness removal of the bandana-looking yellow bikini bottoms was the stranger who peered so intently through the hole in the wall. The stranger had a name: Ellery Quinn, and he had an occupation: the difiliation of every decent-looking woman who could be had in a fifty mile radius, and some women who weren't so good looking but were more-or-less available. Ellery Quinn was a bachelor by choice, a rou� by nature, and had spent his life in the pursuit of new flesh, new sensations, new conquests.
When he had been retired; a result of him, president of Quinn's Lock Company, being caught by the vice-president sodomizing the vice-president's wife in the rectum, he had moved to Lake Stephens, bought a cabin, and settled down to pursue his life's true avocation. "Locked Rooms Our Specialty," his company slogan read; Quinn's personal one was, "Getting in locked pussy is my specialty." He had been near the point of turning over the control to the vice-president anyway, had groomed the man in that direction, so the incident of flagrant delecto was merely making the change a little sooner, and considering the scandal which might have occurred, Quinn was glad to sell out and come to this lake where it was private yet amazingly fertile. Why husbands would think that they could send their wives and daughters here in complete safety, in contrast to the "wicked" cities was beyond Quinn, but who was he to look a good thing in the mouth and complain?
Who was he to look at these lovely, naked, two women and turn his back? And they were available! He heard that the husband and father wasn't with them from Arnold Hutter, the boy at Stephan's landing's only grocery store, who passed on such information in return for a share in the prizes, and who, in this instance, had already put in his claim on the younger one, the daughter who Quinn had heard the mother call Karen. Well, that was fine by him; just look at that woman! That lovely voluptuous mother of the girl standing there! Quinn's loins actually pained him from the frustration of not being free, of his cock not being able to jut out and then plunge into the sweet, black-haired cunt which he leered at though the fence hole. This was almost more than a virile man could stand, those two sunning in unabashed nakedness. And Quinn stifled a groan as his hard penis spasmed with growing pressure, and he raised his expensive Polaroid camera to the peephole, squinted through the view-finder, and snapped a picture ... the first of many, full-color shots of the lovely, naked and unashamedly unaware young women.
Quinn was a man to whom women were drawn, as if his heathen ways had given him a patina, a musk-like aura which a woman could catch the way a bitch in heat can sense a male dog. It was a factor which stopped them from realizing what they were doing until it was too late and he had laid them, a fog which anesthetized them into wanting at all costs to know what so many other women had found pleasure in. And they soon found out, and almost to the one never forgot and never wanted him to stop. He was a master of the sensations, a magician at bringing all of the latent physical emotions their husbands and boyfriends had not surfaced to the top, and he knew, knew with the jungle instinct of a predatory lion that once he showed the pictures he was taking now, the mother would be his next victim.
And more than that, he was utterly transfixed by Janice Cartwright. She stood, now totally unclothed, smiling at her daughter, her mouth parted and her teeth slightly bared, the tip of her pink tongue showing slightly. The petallike, hair-lined lips of her vagina were presented to his eyes and camera lens as if she was waiting for him to take her wantonly exposed portrait of sensuality, and the black triangle of her pubic hair somehow seemed to catch the sunlight and listen lewdly and invitingly. Her high, startlingly white, invitingly round breasts jutted out like twin, ruby-capped mountains, waiting to be climbed. Her legs, so slen der, so smoothly curving into her inner thighs and firm buttocks seemed to beg him to step across and bury himself between them.
Laughing now, Janice held her pose for a long moment, thumbs pressed against her slender, sculptured sides, fingers splayed across her belly. "Well, Karen dear, I'm naked like you now."
"See? It didn't hurt at all, did it?" Karen said, trying to control her strangely swimming head. "Now, come on; there's not to much sun left today. I'm sorry we didn't get an earlier start up here this morning."
"There's always tomorrow," her mother said, sitting down beside her daughter and lovingly gazing at her. And I vow, she promised herself, that tomorrow I won't allow myself to feel so foolish being around my daughter naked, and that this wonderful freedom I've so long let myself miss won't stop me from sunbathing nude every day while we're here.
And Ellery Quinn, unable to move, unable to speak for fear of being caught, could only stare at the two women for the total afternoon, at their twin lovelinesses as they spread the sun-tan lotion over each other's back, and then over themselves individually - a concession to modesty; as they stretched or sat up or walked in and out of their cabin for magazines or food; as they just were, so close to him and yet so far. Quinn loved it like this; the chase, the chance, he challenge, even though his cock was pulsatingly maddened the whole time by the absolute lustfulness of the scene he was witnessing. His camera was almost hot with the amount of film which had passed through it, and the pile of lewd, enticingly prurient poses he'd collected made him only want to snap more, which he did as the sun slowly wended its way over the sky and the many nerve-wracking hours passed so delightedly.
"Mother.. ."
"Mmm?" Jancie was on her back, her face cradled in her arms, her eyes closed as the hot summer sun roasted her skin in the heat of late afternoon. The oil seemed to be fairly bubbling on her, like basting on a turkey, but she didn't care ... nothing mattered as the sun drew all energy out of her, as her mind drowsed in semiconsciousness ... it was so good like this, without restraining cloth ...
"Mother, would you mind if I went down to Stephan's Landing."
Janice didn't even bother to move. It was too much trouble in her presently lethargic state. "No, Karen. I don't mind. Why?"
Karen didn't reply at once. Puzzled, her mother stirred herself by the silence and turned over and raised herself up on one elbow, shielding her eyes with her other arm. "Karen?"
Karen was sitting up now, bending over and rubbing at her feet absently, and Janice focused on the curve of her spine, its tiny ripples and the small pocket just at the top of her buttocks. She had tried not to seem to stare at her daughter's breasts and vagina, as she recalled that when she was that age she was overly sensative about her sex; but that was silly, she had told herself a while back - it was Karen's idea to be in the nude in the first place. Still, it was a matter of propriety, so she watched the back and arms rather than the way her breasts and nipples bob freely and the curl of sparse blonde pubic hair peek over the top of her thigh.
Nonetheless, the revelation had finally come to Janice Cartwright that her little baby wasn't a baby any longer. She was a woman, in body and mind. Karen had been menstruating since she was eleven, but even then it was only an entrance to puberty. But now ...
"Karen?" she repeated. "Is there something we forgot at the store when we shopped?"
Karen let her feet go and turned to smile. "Well, in a way, mother." and then she averted her eyes. "In a way."
"O-ho!" Janice suddenly caught on. Her daughter was certainly grown all right. "The boy there, the boy who was behind the counter. You want to see him, is that it?"
"Well ..."
"Well, go ahead. Don't let me stop you," Janice said. "I think it's a fine idea that you meet a boy of your own age up here."
"You mean it, mother? I mean, we did come together, and I'd be leaving you all alone, and that really isn't fair. But, gee, he's awfully cute, and he likes me. He told me he'd like to see me while we're up here." Karen furrowed her forehead, worried.
"He did, did he?" the mother smirked. "Fast worker. I bet while I was picking up the frozen foods, he was talking a blue streak to you. Well, don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Bring him back here, if you want, for dinner."
"Oh, I will," Karen said, skipping to her feet, her breasts bouncing. "He doesn't get off work there until eight o'clock; he told me so, but I thought ... well, I thought I'd talk to him until then anyway. If he can't come to dinner, I'll still bring him by. To introduce you, sort of. You know. It's only right."
"It's only right that you have a good time up here, dear," Janice said. "How go on and get dressed. I'll sun myself some more and be all ready if and when he arrives."
Karen bent down and kissed her mother tenderly on the cheek. Their breasts touched fleetingly, nipples against nipples, and then Karen was walking into the house, singing some unde-, finable tune under her breath. She dragged her towel with her, leaving the lotion for her mother. At first she had been really afraid that the two weeks up at Lake Stephen were going to be a drag, but then, her summer vacation from school had been turning into a bore around home. What was there to do in a city, with its burning concrete and soft macadam and stultifying, humid heat? Nothing. The friends she liked the most had all gone to camps or in the country the few that were left were all drips and weeds.
But two weeks up in the nowhere with her mother? The two weeks her mother got off from work as manager of a department store dress department were the first two weeks in August, the most miserably hot time of all in the city, and it was that more than the desire to spend fourteen days with her mother which had convinced her to go. After all, a few dumb friends were better than none, and up at Lake Stephen there wasn't a movie or a dance or even a small town nearby. But leave it to Father to pick such a place. If he couldn't go along - and he never could because of some deal or another cooking he was going to make damned sure his wife and daughter stayed out of trouble, had nothing around to distract them from wanting to go home after it was over.
And then when she and her mother had arrived in Stephen's landing, stopping for gas, instructions to their rental cabin, and food, Karen had met a boy her own age. What was his name? Karen briskly scrubbed herself in the shower, using a sponge to lather her body free of the oil, running her hands over her breasts and vagina, her mind intent on what he'd said was his name when he'd come up to her and asked to see her. Ernie ... Henry ... no, Arnold! Arnold Hutter, that was it!
Her nipples seemed to stiffen at the thought of the good-looking, muscular boy in his Teeshirt and jeans, his curly brown hair and sparkling brown eyes as they looked at her, made her feel as if he was undressing her on the spot, right in the market. It was exciting, in a way, boldly provocative, and as he told her about himself she felt the wierd, spontaneous response to his ways. He was about eighteen, a good age for her, and even though he was so forward to her, Karen reflected that all the boys she knew in the city were just as much. Only maybe in the country they didn't try to hide it as much, were more open and honest and unsophisticated nd that appealed to her.
All in all, she was extremely happy she'd decided to come. As she toweled her slender, young skin dry, she smiled at the reflection of herself in the tall dressing mirror on the door. She'd gotten closer to her mother than ever before. had discovered her mother to be more a person than she'd suspected, and it had been fun to be naked side-by-side with her. And naked like that, letting the sun gild her with a tan, her mind had turned to the boy, Arnold Hutter, and the almost challenging way about him. The excitement of first thinking about him - deciding that the spark of excitement seeing her mother naked had aroused in her was only because of her interest in Arnold coming out - then thinking about what he would do if he knew she was here, totally naked, lying out defensless, made her tingle all over. Then, as time passed, Ar nold had become stronger, had become a pervert peeking at her from a hole in the fence and wanting her, then had become a naked boy standing over her ... naked, naked, with his thing - his penis - long and hard and straight the way she'd seen her father's once in the morning as he was going into the bathroom. She'd clenched her thighs together, feeling the tiny rivulets of moisture once more form excitedly on her cuntal lips and pubic hair, knowing that she wanted to see him again.
And that had led up to her asking her mother and of course her mother understood. She might be old and no longer interested in sex, but she had been young once and knew how her daughter felt ... Karen busily d r e s s e d in bra, pink panties, and short-skirted jumper. The top of the jumper was high enough so that it hid her breasts, but she still gave off the impression of being naked underneath. A summer dress, good for the heat. Good for getting a boy like Arnold Hutter interested. Oh, she could handle him. She was from the city, wasn't she? She could certainly stop the crude passes of some backwoods young stallion like him. No, Karen promised herself, she wasn't going to get into any trouble up here with Arnold Hutter, but she was going to have loads of fun getting up to that point ...
After finding her scuffed loafers, she went out to say good-bye to her mother, who was nearly half-asleep again on the towel.
"I'm going now," she called out.
"Mmmmm," Janice replied sleepily. "Have a good time. Don't bring him back too early or I won't be dressed."
"I won't. I won't bring him back until eight at the earliest." She giggled anticipatorily. "That is, if I can get him to come at all. You know, I don't know what might happen."
Truer words were never spoken, child, the insidious Ellery Quinn chuckled to himself from his vantage point. Yon don't know what might happen - what is going to happen. - to yon and your mother. But you're going to find out, my pretty thing, and very shortly
Quinn settled himself, contemplating what he was going to do now that the daughter was out of his way until eight o'clock. What a stroke of luck! But leave it to Hutter to get that little sweetheart jumping like she is. Now, let's see what her mother is going to do, all alone the way she is. All alone except for me and my camera. And if she's alone this evening, I'll come calling, with a surprise which will shock the clothes right off of her!
Chapter 2
Janice Cartwright continued to enjoy the sun, not thinking of anything except the wonderfully salient pleasure of her nakedness. Occasionally she could hear a distant motorboat on the lake, its engine angrily surging through the crystal blue water, or the sounds of birds twittering and cawing in the High Sierra pines, or the rustling of a chipmunk or other small creature in the underbrush. But she took little notice, her mind imbued with the general peace and contentment of the lake-land retreat.
The sun beat steadily, and longer the shadows became ....
Janice shivered as the impending cool evening touched her with tendrils of gray. She turned around and saw the sun had finally sunk so low as to be cresting the green fiberglas fence, still spilling its radiance on the wood slat patio, but over farther, nearer the house. At first she thought she'd go in, take her shower and dress, so she rose from her towel and padded barefoot to the small table where she kept her bikini and watch. She picked up the watch, and saw the time as she was about to put it on. Why, she thought, Karen had left awfully early, for it wasn't even six yet, still early afternoon at this time of year. The green fence, built high to protect her from prying eyes, had also blocked out much of the still-good tanning light.
Janice looked down at her body, glistening from her many applications of suntan oil. She had been determined to get a tan when she'd agreed to come up here, a badge of her vacation to show off to her employees at the Emporium when she returned; well, she wasn't going to look like a South Seas, Islander standing in the cold, giving up before the sun did! She turned and changed the location of her towel and settled back down for another hour or so of baking. She had plenty of time ....
But the break had awakened her, and as she lay on her back, supine to the gentle loving of the day, she no longer was able to drift into the comatose state she had been earlier. She tried to, but it was impossible - impossible for a number of reasons, all of them mental. Her mind probed and mulled over things as if she was an insomniac tossing in bed at two in the morning, some of her thoughts fuzzy and indistinct, and others long trains of ifs, ands, perhaps, and maybe.
Janice Cartwright, both as wife and mother, was not a completely contented woman, and her troubles ran deep and still like a brooding well. She thought of Karen, her darling young daughter, thought of how alone she was without her companionship now, without the comfort of her nearness. It was as if she had come to a strange town without knowing anybody, arriving the way they had at the lake and having Karen hurry off to meet a boy. Not that the boy bothered her; she wasn't worried that Karen couldn't handle herself. Karen had been running around with the kids in her school, and P.S. 36, Torrance High, was considered a rough place, and if Karen had been able to stay a virgin in such an untamed, sin-spawning environment as thatwell, one gawky teenager up here wouldn't phase her. And Karen was a virgin, of that Janice was certain; Karen had sworn she was, and the family doctor had privately agreed after her last physical checkup. Karen was a good girl, a very good girl, and Janice was proud to be her mother, to have raised a fine, moral youngster as she in these chaotic times.
Janice, faced with a husband who was more wedded to his work than to his family, had tried to keep current with the generations, had become both mother and father in a sense, as she became increasingly aware that Harlow wasn't taking on the responsibilities. From discussions, magazines, and television shows, she felt she'd gained a pretty true picture of how things are; to wit, that this generation was smarter, maturer, and more seeking of truth than any previous one. They could, too, because the pressure of making a living wasn't as keen in modern society, the money easier to get and credit a way of life, and more emphasis could be given to how one should live rather than how one can scrape by as best he could. Karen was of a lucky generation, in spite of the turmoil, Janice believed; while startling to her, she had to take a deep breath and admit she admired her daughter for suggesting the nude sunbathing, for honestly stating her healthy conviction that the body is beautiful and shouldn't be worshiped carnally, nor loathed for being the earthy container of one's soul.
Karen would make a good wife for a man someday, Janice thought. And as lonely as it is, as sad as I feel not having her here, it is selfish not to let her be with boys her own age. No, it's best that she went to see the boy at the grocery store ... and best that I put up a brave front.
The thought of Karen fused with the thought of Janice's husband, Harlow. Karen was the healthy one, preserving her body for the joys of love, yet not bound by the restrictions of a bygone, artificial code of Puritan ethics. When she found the man who would appreciate the extent of her gift, then she would give totally, completely, forever. Which was one hell of a lot more than Janice could say for her attitude when she'd married Harlow. Her mother had warned her about sex, about the nastiness inherent in men and the way her own body could betray her, and the result had been a sad farce of marital bliss. The wedding night had been one of stark terror for her as for the first time she'd seen a man's penis. The limp little worm on a baby boy when exposed during a diaper change was one thing; but the turgid, blood-filled pole which had stuck out from Harlow's loins had made her cower under the covers and whimper. Whimper! It almost made her cringe now remembering that incident.
Harlow had taken her that night as he had on every other subsequent night he'd had the urge to make love. Make love? - no, to pummel her, to somehow punish her with a vengeance, as if he was striking back at his own brand of male frustrations, and it wasn't until too late that Janice found out that he had also been a virgin. His attitude had diminished in frenzy after he became used to the idea he could have what he wanted whenever he wanted; by the end of five years he took her the way he ate his breakfasthe didn't care what was served as long as it didn't take a long time to prepare. His interest in her had become less and less, until now he never touched her at all. She was that chattel and property Karen had so scorned, was a maid and cook and hostess for his cocktail parties. He was all work now, building himself and his company into an economic and political force, and she and Karen had been relegated to the status of subsidiary companies.
And thinking of Harlow, knowing that he had insisted on her and Karen taking this vacation to get them out of his hair more than a genuine affection and concern for them, nauseated her, and her mind turned to what her physical body had already led her - to the warm, welcoming, loving arms of Jackson Trendell.
Before she'd met Jackson Trendell, she'd become worried that Harlow's increasing disinterestedness was because of her, and after reading books, becoming increasingly aware of other women's lives and their problems, she woke up to the twin facts about her relationship with her husband. One, there wasn't another woman in Harlow's life as she'd suspected at first; for whatever emotional problems he had and wouldn't confide in her about, he had lost his desire for sex. He was content, at thirty-five, to live out his life with perhaps eight or ten orgasms a year.
Two, a startling discovery that she, at thirtyfour years of age, had suddenly become sexually responsive. She didn't want sex every night, but her education had made her aware of the damage her mother had done, and this awareness peeled from her the false veneer of her frigidity. She needed loving, and she was re- fused it by a eunuch of a mate. She knew that the original fault lay much with her, though not all, not considering Harlow's peculiarities -but her continual frustration until the time she met Jackson Trendell was directly and totally Harlow's as far as she was concerned.
Then, last year, Jackson had walked into her department to buy a dress for his current girl friend. He was a rangy man; chronologically older than Harlow, but younger in spirit and body; lean and hard-muscled, his darkly tanned face and bold walk more at home on a ranch than in the tailored suit he wore. He was alive and virile, and Janice could no more have resisted him if she'd wanted to than stopped breathing. She hadn't resisted, not the least, for a look passed between them with the intensity of a forest fire, a look which ended that day with Jackson forgetting his girl friend and buying the dress for her.
And the look had blossomed into action a week later, at his apartment. She didn't care that he was an ill-paid insurance salesman, or that his apartment was cluttered and run-down, or that his car had a broken front seat. She'd found a man, a real man for the real woman she'd so recently discovered in herself. And she'd willingly made love with him, sensual and brazen, proud that he seemed to soak in her beauty with his eyes, then feasted on it with his hands, his mouth, his penis. That wonderful, irov-rigid, life-giving penis ....
I have a good body, she said to herself as she lay in the sun. I really do. But it never brought me happiness in all the years of my marriage, but it does when I'm with, Jackson .... And her mind conjured up the last time they'd been together, the week before when Jackson told her not to go up to the lake, but to run away with him .. . and she almost had before she considered her daughter, Karen. If it wasn't for her daughter, Janice would long ago have left Harlow, but until Karen was on her own, that was impossible.
Jackson had beet waked, as she had been, straddling her thighs as he learned over her, kissing her as his excitedly erect cock rubbed against her quivering, wetly aching pussy .... She tried to spread her legs, but his imprisoned hers, making her desire build even more.
Janice quivered on the towel, shocked at her prurient remembrances. Then she let the dream come back, as if Jackson was here with her now, leaning over her on the porch of the cabin. She arched her loins in her mind, remembering ... his buttocks had moved so that his penis would slide up and dozen iv the trembling, pink valley of her lusting cunt, and then the way it felt as her fingers reached down and touched it, slid the stretched foreskin back and forth, making him groan with similar delight to the teasing sensations he teas causing her ....
Oh, God, I shouldn't think thoughts like this! Janice's mind screamed. It's sick! Lewd! But she continued to lie in the afternoon sun, her guilt assuaged by the belief she was alone with her sinful reveries, her stomach involuntarily churning with a series of fluttering sensations as the exciting images filtered vividly through her brain. Jackson was once more on top of her naked body, only lower, his breath hot in her ear, his turgid cock just inside the warm, straining lips of her vaginal mouth. She was straining harder toward him, her inner thigh and buttock muscles clearly visible as she slipped more of his blood-swollen penis inside her cunt, her womb dilating so she could take his great length all the way, deep ... deep up inside her aching stomach.
A tender aching began in her pulsing cunt as Janice could almost feel her lover's penetration o n c e more. Unconsciously - because she couldn't control herself - she raised her hand and touched her jutting breasts, rubbed her nipples with her thumb, found that they were already hard; her tactile contact intensified the throbbing in her loins and the moistness that was wetting her excited pubic lips.
"Oh, God, Janice, Janice ... take me ... take me ..." Jackson's words reverberated in the mind of the distraught young wife. She almost could feel again his body fall upon hers, pressing her breasts flat and crushing the breath within her as his cock soared up into her waiting vaginal tunnel. "Milk me, lover ... milk me ... Ooohhhh!"
A spasm of shame made Janice momentarily halt in her fantasizing but there was no use deluding herself. She was aroused, highly aroused, and she was alone. If only Jackson was here, for she needed release now desperately. It had been a mistake to shed her clothing in front of Karen, allowed her to be talked into her nude exhibition, for see what it has now led to ... but no, it was wrong to blame her daughter for her own inability to control her sexual urges. Karen was the right one, the healthy one, displaying her lovely nudity innocently and without any prurient thoughts ... it was herself, Janice, who was wrong for turning the purity of the body into evil thoughts of sex. But sex wasn't evil, it was good, so good even with her lover in the guilty relationship of their adultery ....
Janice continued to massage her breasts, and slowly she capitulated to her physical urgency, her need for the release which was growing like a cancer within her loins and belly, until only the reassuring knowledge that she was alone and wouldn't be caught at her salacious actions was left ... that and the building waves of her remembered embrace with Jackson that afternoon a week ago.
They were going to cum, to explode hi the fiery constellation of ecstasy. She felt herself taut, her eyes clenched tight, her cant clenched around his lunging penis like tiny lips around a hungry child's all-day sucker. "I'm cumming ... I'm cumming..." was the chant which sang through, her mid. "Cumming ... cumming ... cumming...."
Janice's other hand moved to her now widesplayed thighs, matted with her excited vaginal secretions, and gently she fingered her soft, writhing flesh, manipulated her still softer pubic hair and inner lips until she was nearly overwhelmed by the tingling passions. Her finger came in contact with the trembling bud of her clitoris and she began to gasp in total abandonment, rolling nakedly about on the towel with the delight of her impending release. Faster and faster her hand rubbed her seething pink vagina, her mind a torrent of Jackson's body, Jackson's penis pumping into her, his arms, his mouth. Nothing existed except her lover, and herself as they mounted their surging bodies toward their mutual climax ....
Ellery Quinn's mouth gaped wide in astonishment as he watched the woman play her fingers across her naked breasts, while her lower body seemed to jerk and lunge as if devil-possessed from her other hand swirling among the dark black hairs of her widestretched pussy. He heard her grunt and sigh, saw her tongue running wildly along her open lips.
"Oh, God! Oh ... God!" he heard her cry out as she bucked her hips, forcing her fingers into the warm tunnel of her cunt.
Quinn leaned forward, gripping the side of the porch, feeling as if frozen to the wall. His penis was hard against the wooden supports, and he worked the shutter of the Polaroid as fast as he could, snap ... wait ... rip off the negative strip ... snap ... wait ... and rip, over and over, and all the while his breath was harsh, his mind enraptured by the lovely woman's body spread so revealingly before him, and his own breath rose and fell as her body lifted off the towel and fell back again, and the rigidity of his cock was so hard that he imagined it pressing against the velvety texture of her downy, flesh-pink slit between her legs rather than against unyielding wood. Wild shocks of pleasure stabbed through him at the sight of her lasciviously grinding away, at the idea that she would soon be reacting like that to him.
He saw Janice's eyes grow glassy and a sticky fluid seep from between her smooth, fleshy buttocks as they bumped up and down from the wild ecstasy swirling within her. He felt his buttocks tighten and he groaned inadvertently himself as he pushed yet harder against the porch, imagining the tingling inside his gut as the rubbery tip of his prick pressed into her, its blunt head replacing her fingers which he could so thoroughly watch as they slid in and out of her tight, elastic vagina. His cock would fit so nicely in there, would work its way so perfectly against the wet, hair-fringed little ring of flesh ... his cock was entering now, he thought through a heated haze of desire, slowly slithering into the warm, throbbing moisture ....
Then he sucked in his breath as he saw a rippling shudder break in jerking waves across the lust-filled surface of the woman's excitedly f l u s h e d body. "Ahhhhh ! Ohhhh, Jackson!" came the wail, the arching of her back, as Janice Cartwright imagined her illicit lover bringing her to her climax .... And Ellery Quinn's prick suddenly ejaculated as his imagination let him enjoy the fiery sensations of orgasm waft over him, burst from the head of his pumping cock to fill his bathing trunks with the sperm that he, in his mind, was shooting far into the yielding flesh of the frenzied, black-pussied woman he was spying upon. The wild ache in his loins erased momentarily, Ellery Quinn choked back a gasping sob and fell back onto the ground, hardly able to hold onto the camera.
As her orgasm began to ebb, Janice Cartwright's firm, quivering buttocks sank to the towel and her hand stilled its mad fingering of her wet, bursting cunt, and she lay still. Her chest heaved with the charge of her release, and her eyes were tightly squeezed shut as sanity slowly returned to her mind, and the image of Jackson making love to her faded slowly, like the sun above her. And in its place came utter humiliation, the shame of guilt for her actions.
Her masturbation would have been the cause of an indignant, wrathful scene had she caught Karen self-abusing her body that way. What was the matter with her? Were her long years of sexual starvation so harsh that Jackson and his love couldn't fulfill her? That she now had to resort to arousing her own breasts and vagina for satisfaction, as if she was a nymphomaniac unable to control her own emotional stability? Stop this self-torture, she told herself; it was useless to chastise herself - she couldn't go back in time and not do it. She'd have to watch herself more closely in the future, that's all, and after another five minutes she felt better, calmer. After all, nobody had seen her, nobody knew .... She rose and walked to the cabin, gathering her things on the table and then opened the sliding glass door, stepping inside.
The cabin, a new redwood and pine Alpine type, made with a peaked roof so the winter snow wouldn't cave it in, was darker than the outdoors, strangely silent in its bare furnishings. H a r l o w had rented it sight unseen, through another real estate agent specializing in summer retreats, and it hadn't been a bad choice. It lived up to the color brochures as much as anything lives up to its advertising; nicely decored in the rustic, woodsy idea of bare walls, beam ceilings, and black wrought iron legs on the pseudo-hewn wood t a b l e s and chairs. But the carpet was matting, a grass fiber which tickled her feet as the wool shag in her own home didn't, and she couldn't find things easily - what little there was in the way of glasses and dishes and other accoutrementsunused to their location as she was. It was fine for two weeks, but there was still an air to it of belonging to somebody else, and she didn't feel totally settled as she would have if this was hers.
The cabin was also much cooler than the outside, and Janice hugged herself by crossing her arms and rubbing her shoulders, noting that she was getting goose-pimply all over, even on her breasts.
She walked over to where a kitchenette of stove, refrigerator, and sink, all in one porcelain unit, was set into an alcove at the far side of the living room, next to the bathroom and across from the one, tiny double-bed bedroom. She had planned to put some coffee on, figuring it would have perked and be ready by the time she'd finished her shower, but after a moment's reflection, she decided a drink would settle her nerves and warm her body better. Janice wasn't a drinker, though she had been drunk occasionally like most, but her doctor had prescribed having a drink before dinner as a way of settling her nerves - which was what she'd gone to him about before she'd realized the true cause of her emotional upset, her lack of a meaningful sexual relationship. The idea had been tried, and in time turned to a custom, and she'd packed a new bottle of gin in her suitcase for just that purpose.
The bottle neck rattled against the glass as she poured the liquor, a sign that she was as nervous as she thought; she poured a good dol- lop, better than usual, and drank it down with only a slight grimace. Then she showered; it took a long time to wash the muscilage of her secretions from her pubic hair and inner thighs, and still longer to shed the crawly feeling which still festered coldly between her shoulder blades as she thought about what she'd done to herself on the porch.
Dressed in a pair of colorful culottes - a body-fitting, one-piece robe with flared legs and a big zipper from loins to neck - -she sat down in a chair, and finding herself trembling, poured herself another gin. She sat, drinking slowly, with nothing else to do ....
Janice wasn't drunk, but she wasn't feeling bad, either, when her daughter arrived with Arnold Hutter at eight-fifteen. The mother immediately approved of Hutter, was impressed by his manners and warm openness and the way he obviously liked Karen by the way he kept looking at the girl and was so solicitous of her wishes.
"He drove me home after work," Karen said, her own eyes flashing. Evidently things had gone well down at Stephen's Landing, Janice mused; the two of them seem very happy with each other. Too happy? No ... no ... a young innocent summer romance at the most ....
"Would you like to stay for dinner?" Janice asked. "I haven't started cooking yet, but I can have something whipped up in a jiffy."
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Cartwright," the boy said, smiling graciously, "but I sort of asked Karen here if she'd like to go with me around the other side of the lake to some friends of mine. They're having a barbecue on the beach, and afterwards we'll dance. That is, if it's okay with you."
"Oh, it is, isn't it, Mother? It is, isn't it?"
Janice steeled herself, somehow managing to keep her bright smile on her face, hiding the sinking feeling inside her. "Of course it is, Karen. I think that sounds simply marvelous. I'm sure you'll have a good time. Don't you want to change first, though?"
"No need," Arnold Hutter said hastily. "The others will be dressed just as casually. I mean, look at me!" He grinned infectiously, holding out his jeans. The last thing he wanted was for Karen to put on something difficult to remove; the wild jumper she had on now would slip off of her like the peel off a banana when the time came. His cock gave a little jerk of anticipatory excitement as his mind had the flash of this lovely teenager moaning and mewling out her passion underneath his pistoning body. "She's just fine. Honest!"
"Well ... all right, then," Janice Cartwright said. "Now, you don't stay out too late, Karen," she admonished motherly.
"Aw, Mom," her daughter grumbled. "I'm not a kid anymore."
"Come on, or we'll be late for the feed," Arnold said, grabbing her arm. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
"'Bye, Mother!" Karen shouted as she raced out the door.
"'Bye-" But Janice's words were lost to the slamming of the front door and the surge of Hutter's open-exhaust car. She settled back in her chair again, morose, feeling lost and more alone than before. Her eyes blurred slightly with a film of water, and she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. Get a hold of yourself, she admonished herself. You're just being self-pitying, knophig around feeling sorry for yourself for no reason. Get a book and read .... But Janice didn't feel like reading. Take a walk... . But the lonely, a g i t a t e d young mother didn't feel like going out. Well, do something ... ! So, she poured herself another touch of gin.
Crickets sawed a mournful dirge outside, and a grayness settled over the house. Janice sipped the gin in the growing darkness, then got up to turn on the lights. The brightness didn't cheer her at all. She was alone, and the strange cabin and unknown country oppressed her with their unfamiliarity. Her husband wasn't here, and would only have been a body grouching about everything had he been; Karen had deserted her, and logically knowing her daughter hadn't done it intentionally and it was the better thing for her to do didn't help dispel her gloom; Jackson was back in the city, and she wondered if her lover was missing her, alone in his shabby apartment, as much as she was missing him .... There was a sudden knocking on the door, interrupting Janice's reverie with a start, making her nearly spill the glass of gin. "Who ... who is it?" she called out.
"Ma'am?" a husky, deep, rich voice came through the wood. "Ma'am, I'm your next door neighbor. I'm in the cabin just up the road, the one set back aways."
Janice crossed to the door and opened it, stood there as she looked at her caller. He was tall, almost as tall as Jackson, she thought instantly. Not as tanned, either, but with a wide face marked by two long dimples and a little, light gray moustache and pointed beard. His face was creased with lines and a broad smile that revealed the startling whiteness of his even teeth. His eyes were a deep, lustrous gray, and he had a long nose which was hooked a little at its bridge. He was dressed in a pair of red swim trunks which were so tight that Janice couldn't avoid seeing the bulge of his genitals, the outline of his large penis against the round sac of his testicles, and over his massive shoulders and chest he wore a terry cloth beach robe, tied at his waist with a rope cord.
"Yes? What can I do for you?" the young wife and mother managed to say.
His smile grew wider, and his eyes seemed to catch the light of the room and flash back. "Ma'am," he said, "my name is Ellery Quinn. Mind if I come in?"
Chapter 3
Karen Cartwright looked around at the other couple and laughed, "This is really a keen place, isn't it?"
Arnold Hutter grinned wolfishly. "Yeah, it sure is. Ham's Old Man must own half this side of Stephen's Lake, I bet. He built this house as a retreat long before all the tourists discovered it."
Ham - a nickname for Hammond Ellisonlooked up from where he was sitting. Ham was slightly older looking than Arnold, about twenty, Karen guessed, and was big as if supporting his nickname in size as well. He had long blonde hair and small, ferretlike eyes which also seemed to have a hint of yellow to them and which were always moving as if he was watching for some- thing to strike out. Beside him was his girl friend, Lola Aubrey, a short teen-ager perhaps a year older than Karen, built with that Southern European voluptuousness of large, rich-swelling breasts like melons and curving hips with seductively swaying buttocks and limber legs. She liked to giggle a lot, Karen had noticed, even when there was nothing apparently to find funny. They were all sitting on the flagstone patio of the large brick house, having retired to the warm outdoors after dinner, which had been served when she and Arnold had arrived a short time before. The house had impressed her from the start, the size and way it sprawled across the timberland, and the long gravel drive from the road which ran around the lake to its circular entrance and parking lot.
Karen and Arnold had hit it off right from the beginning, right from when she'd gone back to the store at Stephen's Landing and stayed around until it closed. Usually she'd never have considered "throwing herself' at a boy like she was at Arnold, but what the heck - it was vacation, wasn't it? She was only going to be up here a couple of weeks, and there simply wasn't time to play cay, not if she wanted to be taken places and do things with such an exciting guy like him.
And so far it had been swell. He'd talked a blue streak, but about all sorts of interesting things and not the usual silly junk that boys she knew talked about - cars and other girls. No, Arnold Hutter was a find, as far as she was con cerned, and she wasn't about to screw it up by playing hard to get. Unless he started getting overly fresh.
Perhaps a kiss tonight, she'd promised herself on the way up. A little necking and that was all. Later, like next week, when it was too late for him to get her any farther, she'd allow him to take her bra off and play with her titties. She liked that, even though she hadn't let a boy do that to her until last year, and she'd found that her breasts were extremely sensitive, especially around her nipples. She'd learned in health class that contrary to general opinion, many women aren't excited by having their breasts felt, and some don't like it at all - but not her. Boy, the way a hand on her breast made her squirm with heat! She peripherally wondered if her mother was the same - -0r had been when she was interested in such things years ago.
But that was far from her mind now as she sat in the comfortable porch swing with Arnold, holding hands, still fascinated by the ivy-framed french doors which seemed to cover the whole back of the Ellison home, and the broad set of steps leading down to the water's edge. She turned her head from the inspection of the house, and looked out over the dark expanse of water as Arnold continued his graphic description of the property.
"... Ellison imported eight tons of sand just to make the beach, and see the dock over there?" He pointed to his left, where a wooden pier jutted out into the lake. "In the boat house is a brandnew Century inboard-outboard cruiser. A twentyfour footer, and maybe one of these days Ham will take us water-skiing."
"I ... I never learned how to," Karen admitted, hanging her head in false modesty.
"Ah hell, pal," Ham said expansively to Arnold, "if your chick wants to learn, bring her around. Lola and I will teach her." He snickered slightly and Lola giggled, holding her hand to her mouth.
"Bullshit! If anybody teaches Karen to ski, it'll be me on my day off. How about it, honey?" he asked, turning to her.
"Sure," she gasped. "I'm a good swimmer, and ... and I do a lot of ice skating at the rink back home."
"Yeah, that's the stuff," Arnold said, and took his hand from hers and placed it around her shoulder, squeezing her protectively. There was an instant which Karen froze, and then she snuggled to him, feeling safe and warm and not at all as if Arnold was trying to get more than he should ....
Arnold winked at Ham, who caught the sign and winked back. Arnold let his arm dangle, not wanting to scare his little pigeon by being overly forward until the right time, but as he moved in a gesture of consideration, he let his fingers brush her breast "accidentally," and felt her gasp slightly. He smirked to himself as he thought what was in store for Miss City Bitch as the evening progressed, what he was going to do to this inexperienced little virginand that she was a virgin he was confidentonce she reached the stage of helpless submission. The dinner had been planned with Ham and Lola, who both got a big kick out of seeing one of Arnold's dates succumb, in the same style other dinners for other girls had been set up. Lots of hot Mexican style food which Lola was a whiz at preparing, with lots of salt and things to make one hell of a thirst. And then there was the beer and sangria.
The first time Arnold had been exposed to sangria had been when he'd been here on a date with a girl Ham and Lola had introduced him to. He'd ended up fucking her on the living room rug, drunk out of his ever-loving mind to where he didn't care if Ham's Old Man had walked in, instead of just being in front of them. And then he'd let Lola suck him off .... That had been the start, the introduction to Ham and Lola and how they got their jollies, and between them and Mr. Ellery Quinn, he'd had quite a summer up here. It had been a full, if draining, season for Arnold and he figured he'd had his pants down as much as he'd had them up what with one girl or another. Just like with Quinn, if things worked out with Ham and Lola tonight, he'd end up taking on Lola, who'd fuck your ears off with that insatiable box of hers, while good old Ham pounded into what was left of Karen's virginal little hole.
And leave it to an inexperienced girl like Karen to guzzle the sangria like it was an inoffensive sweet wine, not having the faintest idea what sangria would do to her. They'd told her it was just wine when she'd refused the beer and tried to make do with water during the dinner, but the saltiness and hotness of the food had finally gotten to her, just like it eventually got to them all, and the chilled red liquid went down so easily .... She never caught the other tastes the base of red wine hid; the Contreau, the regular and apricot brandies, the little bit of lemon-line fizz to get it into her system faster ....
"Let's go down to the beach, everybody," Ham said, standing up and hefting his pants around his waist. That was all he wore, a pair of dirty tan dungarees, and his large stomach sort of bulged over the belt-line, his navel prominent and slightly obscene-looking to Karen. Lola agreed, giggling, and jumped up beside her boyfriend. She was wearing tight black toreador pants but because of her figure, which Karen snidely prophesied would become blowzy in another ten years, any pair of pants would have accentuated her hips and buttocks with a second-skin look to them. As she stood, Karen gulped with the unnerving view of the girl's vaginal slit, a view she'd tried not to stare at unmannerly all evening, but how could a person not notice that the pants were so tight through the crotch that they actually followed the contours of her cunt lips and mound, creasing along the vertical line of her well-developed pussy? Karen swallowed, driving from her mind the image of exactly what Lola's relationship with Ham was, but instinctively knowing in the bright, honest way she considered things that Lola and Ham were not strangers to each other's bodies, that in the terms of the cruder boys in her school, she and the boy "fucked." Fuck ... the bald, gutter word chilled her, and as she stood up with Arnold, she let her mind think for a second that the word had popped into her mind only because of the wine.
"And don't forget the sangria," Ham called over his shoulder as he ran down the steps to the beach. Lola grabbed the seemingly ever-full pitcher and two of the glasses. Arnold smiled at Karen, picked up the one she'd been drinking from and handed it to her, then picked up his and down to the beach they went, arm in arm.
She stumbled once, groping for Arnold, who caught her with ease. Hot damn, he thought, she's had a few, all right, and she's going to have a lot more ... and maybe a little something to smoke too just to really get her mind blown. Yes sir, by the time he took Karen home, she'd know what fucking was all about!
From a weatherproof locker at the back of the beach, Ham took a half-dozen canvas cushions, and in a minute the four of them were sitting on them and talking and joking. Arnold poured Karen more sangria, and insisted she drink it all down in one swallow.
"What's the matter," he challenged when she balked. "You drink, don't you?"
"I have been, Arnold," she replied. "I ... I don't want to get sick, that's all."
"You won't," he promised. "This wine is so mild a baby can take it. See?" He tilted his head and drank his glass with a loud gargling noise. "Now, go on, be a sport."
"Be a sport," Karen murmured to herself, and then stiffening her resolve to be just that, to not ruin Arnold's opinion of her, and trusting that it was just alight wine, she drank the sangria quickly. She'd become a little thick-headed during dinner, as if the "wine" had begun to affect her, but she'd passed it off as the heaviness of the delicious meal and the fact that she was so excited. The warm evening air had done much to clear her mind - or so she thought, not realizing she was being slowly brought past the point when she would care how she felt, and her euphoria at being in so wonderful a surrounding, so magnificent for a city-bred, apartment-raised child as herself was making her not notice the insidious effects of the alcohol as much as anything.
"Whoo!" she breathed, taking a deep gasp of air and setting the glass beside her, empty. Her head was whirling, and the lake was churning before her eyes in slow, sweeping circuits.
"Here, have a cigarette," Ham offered, leaning over Lola and Arnold to extend a pack.
His hand covered the brand name, and Karen, who didn't like non-filtered kinds, only saw the loose, tobacco-filled end of the cigarette sticking out, and she shook her head.
"No, no thank you, Ham. I've got my own."
"Aw, go ahead. They're a special type Lola got when she was in Mexico, and they've got a lot more flavor than the usual. Besides," he added with a smile, "you didn't bring yours with you, did you?"
"No, I didn't, but="
Arnold, who'd made sure that her purse had been conveniently forgotten inside the house, snorted derisively. "For the love of God, take one, will you, Karen! I ain't going all the way up to the house to get yours, let me tell you, and Ham looks awful stupid just holding the pack like that. Je-zus!" In emphasis, he took one out of the pack and then another, almost slapping it in Karen's hand.
Karen felt like biting her tongue. How uncool could she be? She put the coarse cigarette in her mouth and let Arnold light it. She inhaled as she usually did and came up coughing. Arnold laughed. "A little stronger than those hernia-causers you suck on normally, aren't they?" The others laughed, and Karen fought back a blush of embarrassment. She'd show them! They were all sucking on theirs, so she'd do it too, somehow. The second breath was easier, and Ham was right, the tobacco was tastier, giving off a strange, sour-sweet aroma that was very pleasant. She exhaled, looked around with a smile of triumph at the other three, but they were all engrossed in smoking. There was a small warning bell tolling in the back of her mind, and the feeling of an odd discomfort that somehow she'd gotten involved with more than she'd originally bargained for, and the bell continued to warn her to watch out ... watch out ... that the others were showing too much concern over a simple cigarette.
Frowning, she looked at the cigarette which by this time she'd halfway smoked. "What ... what kind did you say this was?"
For a city girl, you're awfully stupid or awfully damned blind, Arnold thought contemptuously. But he chuckled disarmingly and answered: "Mexican, honey, and the tobacco they grow down there is darker because of the soil. That's all."
The sangria was pulsing through her bloodstream now, a cumulative punch starting with her first dinnertime sip and culminating in that last chug-a-lug glass, and her brain wasn't functioning the way it should, and a warm loginess had settled between her eyes, spreading a similar contentment through her young, sweet body as the sun had done that afternoon. The warning bell became fainter, more distant, and the realization that she was actually smoking marijuana never penetrated the headiness she was experiencing. Another time, another place, hit cold with the cigarette she now smoked so placidly, and the innocent teen-ager would have remembered her school lessons, remembered the films and pictures and lectures about the drug and immediately caught on. But the completely callous, totally corrupt Arnold Hutter and his two compatriots had counted on this and had set their devious course well ... too well for a mere fifteen-year-old virgin to have foreseen and counteracted.
A girl of Karen's age can be educated beyond her tender years, can be raised and taught a maturity which makes her see things with a wisdom of an adult, and can be instilled with a healthy outlook on herself and life which can save her many bitter problems over her lifetime. But a fifteen-year-old girl is still not twenty, or thirty, or older. She has just plain not lived any longer than those fifteen years, and she can't be expected to have the experience which time, and time alone, can give. Her deportment and opinions may make her seem to be that experienced, but it is only a facade; the difference between experience and intelligence is the difference between making a first mistake and learning from it, or continuing to repeat that mistake.
Karen Jackson's mother was wrong - Karen was not able to take care of herself. Karen herself was wrong - she was a child, and a child heading toward a disastrous confrontation between the myth of her maturity and the facts of reality.
But at the moment, lounging on the beach cushion, smoking the marijuana cigarette, she was oblivious to anything except the present situation. The curling fog in her lungs and the alcohol had been working their insidious ways, just as Arnold Hutter and Hammond Ellison and Lola knew it would because of their years and experience. She felt good, staring out at the lapping water, laughing and talking with the others on the quiet beach. Another glass was passed to her - how many did this make? Who knew? Who cared? - and then a n o t h e r cigarette ....
The lovely teen-ager rested her chin against her drawn-up knees and d r e a m i l y leaned against Arnold to let him know she was having fun and was happy being here with him ... and the delicious, dulling illusion of liquor and marijuana pervaded her slim, untouched body, and there was a delightful tingling deep inside her, so deep that she couldn't even imagine its bottom, its end ....
Lola giggled after Ham told a dirty joke about a farmer, his daughter, the traveling salesman, and a big brown bear. She jumped up, whirling around as if in worship of the blinking stars above. "You can all sit here on your asses if you want, but I want to go for a swim! Wheee!" she yelled, and romped over the sand, down to the water. "Hey! It's really warm! C'mon, you bums!" And then she giggled again.
Karen squinted through the darkness, seeing Lola only as a black spectre against a gray backdrop of sky. But she seemed to be doing something to her clothing ... Karen tried harder to focus, especially after Ham roared to his feet and raced after his girl, yeowling that he was going to join her and dunk her in the water. He, too, was pulling at his clothes.
The teen-ager was tempted to follow. "It's too bad I didn't know we would swim, Arnold. You said we were going to dance, so I didn't bring a suit along with me."
Arnold lay on his back. "Neither did they, honey. They're skinny-dipping."
Arnold felt his young, naive date jump from the sudden and unexpected realization that a few feet from her was a blatant display of male and female nudity. He curled an arm around her waist, rubbing her stomach and thigh with his hand. "Yeah, naked, honey. What the hell, why not? They've been fucking each other, so why not swim together? You want to try it?"
Karen was at a loss for words. She stared at the water, not wanting to because of her instinctive morality, yet drawn to it by the prurient sensation which Arnold's revelation and his utter calm acceptance and casual use of the four-letter word seemed to generate in her belly. She could see the outline of Lola and Ham as they splashed and frolicked in the lake, shouting and laughing and swimming, and even though their forms were indistinct, she could see the pile of clothes on the shore and hear their w o r d s. Their words ... their lust-inciting words ....
Come on, you bitch, let me grab that tit again .... Yon do, anal I'll bite your cock off . ... Yaaa, your cunt is full of seaweed .... I'm going to get it full of something, Daddy-o, just as soon as I get hold of it ....
"No, no, I couldn't Arnold," she finally managed to stammer. But through the intoxicating haze of alcohol and marijuana came the salaciously exciting desire to do just that, to strip her clothes off and jump in after them, and in sympathy her drugged and alcohol-plied body began to twitch spasmodically. She pressed her thighs tightly together, worming them down on the cushion, only to find that the rough material of her dress bunched together and grazed the sensitive, panty-covered lips of her vagina, and more throbbings of secret pleasure darted in the bud of her clitoris, try as she might to hold them back.
But it was to no avail. The lulling, sensual effects of the combined drugs, and the lecherous tableau before her innocent, wide-staring eyes were too much to be controlled, and it worked its debauching influence in the undefiled teenage child. She couldn't resist the overwhelming fire swelling her breasts and loins, and she moaned and squirmed, terrified that should Ham and Lola return to the cushions in a dis play of nakedness, she'd do something she'd be sorry for the rest of her life.
Arnold didn't attempt to force the issue about the naked swimming, knowing that it would only stiffen a weakening resolve which had to be overcome by t e n d e r n e s s. The sight was enough to work its magic on her; he could feel her heat and trembling fever, and secretly gloated over what was sure to follow. Instead he continued to stroke her, and then with his other hand he took her shoulder and made her lean back, down on the cushions beside him.
"Shh, now, honey," he whispered into her quivering ear. "If it bothers you so much, don't watch them. Hell, I didn't know they would get so drunk to do this, but don't let it get you this way, so worked up, so frightened. Gee, I thought a girl like you would know about things like this, being so hip ... ."
Karen cuddled in Arnold's arms, feeling his hot breath on the side of her face, his hands so soft and comforting on her back, her hair, her sides. She thought about her speech to her mother that day about how naked bodies aren't to be considered evil or dirty, and the marijuana- and liquor-filled youngster let herself fall more into the carnal trap by mentally allowing herself to rationalize that Ham's body and Lola's body weren't any less clean than hers or her mother's - and then the remembrance of her mother standing over her, her breasts with their brown-areoled nipples and white, globu lar tautness, and then the sweet, black curls of pubic hair with the slight hint of her pinkrimmed vagina made Karen shiver with still more emotion, the emotion which had been released from her inner soul by the twin demons of sangria and marijuana.
"Baby, baby.. ." Arnold c r o o n e d in soft tones, and his hand moved in small circles on her back, then around to the front, almost touching her breasts, but not quite. He thought about her breasts, how they were begging to be taken out of their tight restraining brassiere and suckled, and his cock swelled in his pants, the tension grinding in his testicles until he thought they were going to burst. He could barely contain his impetuousness, for this sweet, tight, little virgin in his arms was going to be one hell of a fuck once she let herself go, but he was going to have to take his time, let nature do the work for him so he wouldn't lose it all. Slowly he tilted her face up to his, sensed that she was breathing harshly, moaning with her inner passions which were being unfolded like a flower in the morning sun as her mind whirled with the drugs and the alcohol. Her lips were moist and parted, her eyes shut ... and then he kissed her.
His kisses made her surge with excitement, seemed to set off the rocket which had been so tenuously held in check until then. Karen mewled under the pressure of his wetly grinding lips, but after one panicky moment, fell limply to him, savoring his lips and darting tongue worming by her teeth and into her mouth; she had never dreamed that a boy kissing her could stir her so much, could arouse her the way Arnold did, and then his hand crept up and touched one of her breasts, and for some unexplainable reason, they were twin comets of fire tonight to her, and she couldn't have stopped his gentle massage of her sensitive young flesh for anything.
"No ... no..." she murmured through his kisses, trying to force herself to stop him before he tried anything further, and she squirmed back, but he only pressed his hands harder against her palpitating young breast, fondling the soft tender globe through her brassiere. Oh, God, she wanted Arnold to like her, wanted to be his girl friend, and wanted his hands on her breasts ... yes, wanted her breasts touched and fingered ... and the euphoric sensations allowed to be fully awakened by the moralbreaking marijuana made her desires seem the most important thing in the world at that moment, and she pressed her thighs tighter together in a vain effort to cut off the maddening tingle which again invaded the wetly aching valley of her cunt.
Arnold Hutter massaged the teen-ager's breasts and knew Karen was excited almost beyond control. Everything was working perfectly: the sangria, the marijuana, the naked swimming ... and he could tell the stupid little virgin was responding by the way her nipples were hardening under the cloth, puckering her bra and jumper as he took the tiny buds in his thumb and forefingers and rolled them. Karen gasped and let her head roll back, uplifting her swelling mounds to his hands and looking out at the water with drug-glazed eyes.
Sensing his victory with impatience, Arnold moved his other hand inside the open back of her jumper and fumbled with her bra snaps. Karen labored for breath and squirmed harder, which only pushed the swollen, tingling lips of her pussy down harder against the cushion again and made her more excited than ever.
"Oh ... no ... please, no ... I've never done this before ..."
"Always a first time, honey," he whispered lewdly into her ear. "Relax, like you're a big girl now, aren't you? I mean, take a gander at Lola and Ham. They've come back from swimming."
"Lola ... Ham..." she moaned, and then her eyes cleared for an instant, and she stared up in shocked disbelief. Lola Aubrey was standing by the cushion, giggling, with a weird fire dancing in her black eyes. Droplets of water were covering her naked body, and her long, dark hair was dripping on the sand. She was fondling her own left breast with one hand, making the globeshaped flesh stand out invitingly, the wide nipple a huge dark button that was hard and erect - as hard and erect as Karen's. Her young haircovered vagina was caught in the dim light of the lights from the patio, shining iridescently in a lewd, debauched display of her sex. Through the curling, almost satin-looking covering was the rich, round, ruby-colored lips of her vagina, a vagina that seemed to be swelling with prurient welcome to her boyfriend who stood beside her.
Karen couldn't keep her marijuana-dilated eyes off the other girl's pubic area, and for what seemed like centuries she studied the resilient flesh of Lola's inner thighs, the way the lake water slowly rivuleted down her smooth skin from the obscene spectacle of her open, moistly writhing slit and the darker shadow of her elastic cuntal mouth. It was almost like looking up at her mother again, at the way her mother might have been when she had approached the bed the night of Karen's conception! The black hair and sensitive-looking p u s s y of Lola blended with a picture of Janice Cartwright in Karen's mind ... and then Karen shook herself free of the sick image and turned away, only to stare at ... at....
The fully erected, hardened penis of Ham - the second time in her life she had ever seen a man's cock ... and Lola had her other hand around its lengthy shaft! She was fondling Hammond Ellison's cock! "Oh, no," Karen moaned. "Oh, God, no!"
She hadn't expected this. She couldn't believe it - or the tremendous feelings of lurid, lusting sensuality provoked by the sight of the boy and girl fondling one another in front of her, playing with his cock and - and now Ham had inserted his fingers into the wet, pulsating opening of Lola's quaking vagina, was stroking rhythmically in and out of her as if it was his ... his penis! They were looking at one another as they did so, pleased with their lewd, perverted display! Karen whimpered, her raw, immature teen-age body a bundle of nerves, a furnace for the seething, licking flames of her own desire.
Then Arnold, his cock crying out from the torture of his own excitement, trying to control his lust so that he didn't tear the jumper off the virginal young girl and fuck her then and there, groaned and pulled Karen to him, slipping his hand up her leg and locked his lips once more hotly against hers. She tried to twist away again, but the pressure of the excruciatingly erotic scene and his mouth were too much. His hand snaked upward, stroking her ivory smooth thigh, and his mouth engulfed the distraught girl's soft red lips, and an uncontrollable tremor surged through her as she wilted to the pillage of the boy's hand, and Karen relaxed against his heaving body. He held her tightly, his hands hot and tingling on the bare skin of her lower buttocks and thighs, and he ground his hard bulge into her vaginal area, and she sensed his penis was as rock-like as Ham's, bursting to be out of his pants and up between her thighs.
In a spasm of terror, envisioning where this was inevitably going to lead at this rate, Karen s u m m o n e d the last of her strength, and squirmed free from his grip. "Stop! Stop, please, before ... before... ." She swallowed hard, gasping for breath. "Let's calm down, please. I'm ... I'm not just some little slut you can make the first time out."
"I know you're not, Karen," Arnold breathed in her ear. God, how his balls hurt, how his cock longed to slide up into her tender young pussy. His panting, ragged breath transmitted his excitement to Karen, and forcing herself against her will she sat up--and gasped in total horror at the sight that suddenly met her unbelieving eyes.
Ham was lying on his back now, on the cushions, his hardened pole of a penis standing high in the air like some giant tree stripped of its branches. Straddling him was his girl friend, Lola, the roundness of her naked buttocks poised quiveringly over the burgeoning penis, and her hand was still on it, still stroking the shaft up and down, but she was also guiding his cock into the moist, open flanges of her cunt. With a slight, soft, "Oooohhhhh" she ground her hips downward, sinking until all of Ham's excitedly hardened cock was swallowed by her clasping vaginal lips and Karen could only see with tormentedly-wide eyes a tiny bit left at the base of the boy's loins. Karen wanted to scream, to suddenly jump up and run down the beach from this lewdness, this filthy debauch of everything she'd ever considered good and pure about bodies and sex and love ... but the tranquilizing effects of the sangria and the marijuana and the high-pitched arousal caused by her emotions and the actions of the young boy holding her wouldn't permit her to. Instead, she sat frozen and watched helplessly as Lola began a slow, grinding motion with her buttocks rising in the clear, evening air until just the tip of Ham's now wet-slicked penis was left inside the warm sheath of her fleshy cuntal tunnel, and then the girl dropped heavily back down upon his widespread thighs, impaling the boy's shaft again and again with each smooth stroke.
Karen shuddered violently, for she'd never seen two people engaged in sexual intercourse before, not even in the dirty pictures some of the girls at school tried to show her, and instead of finding herself revolted as she'd imagined she'd be, the little virgin teen-ager pulsed with a deep quivering between her own moist, excitedly swollen vaginal lips ... and then Arnie pulled her roughly to her again, his hands, his tongue, his whole enveloping body enflaming her as the sounds of the lovemaking next to her drifted through her brain. She gasped from the wantonness and utterly overwhelming craving which was rapidly blotting out any degree of denial to her instincts. Arnold's hands traveled teasingly up her leg again, around the soft, white flesh of her trembling buttocks and thighs once more, and this time she didn't even consider stopping him. Then his fingers snaked into her thin, sheer nylon panties, and a thought raced through her befuddled brain that he was going to take them off, to touch her between the legs, where no one except she had ever touched there before. But her blood boiled too heatedly, and his fingers felt so good, so warm, and she undulated her thighs with the rising tide of passion roaring through her tender body, as if she was another girl responding to him, rather than Karen Cartwright.
"Oh, Arnold ... Arnie..." she moaned as he reached further inside her panties and into the rich, pulsating valley of her teen-age pussy, stroking the hair-lined fringes of her vaginal lips until they seemed to spasm from delight, seeking yet deeper .... Karen involuntarily raised her hips, rotating her sex-starved cunt in helpful deliberation, spreading her legs wide until he was able to tease the moist, pink folds of her inner cunt, parting the soft young flesh carefully with his fingers until he was able to make ecstatic contact with her throbbing clitoris. Her brain screamed with emotional agony of sensual desire, and Karen moaned and mewled, wrapping her arms around Arnold's neck and trailing sibilant, hot kisses across his face. There was an odd sensation of weightlessness as Arnie moved, and then Karen's pot-drugged mind caught on to what he wanted, and she lifted her hips higher off the cushion and clenched her legs moistly together so that he could slide the wetly stained panties down ... down her thighs and her legs, and off. They lay limply on the sand, a soft flimsy flag of abject surrender ....
And then he was by her again, continuing his teasing and fondling of her soft, defenselessly twitching vagina. She lay back, caught in a delirious whirlwind of unwanted passion as he fingered her throbbing cunt better than she had ever been able to do to herself. But there was suddenly an alien sound, a cursed hissing, the unmistakable noise of a pants zipper being lowered. She could feel the boy struggling in his effort to open his pants, and in a blast of terrified comprehension, the shattering impact of what was going to happen to her seared through to her tortured brain, and she opened her eyes. A scream came low in her throat as she stared at this boy she'd only known a few short hours, stared at his face and then down at the hardened, blunt-headed penis he held high in one hand!
It was that; his long, hard penis bearing down on her in lewd concentration, its angry, blood-red head pressing against the softness of her tender inner thighs as he endeavored to break her naked virginity that sent Karen into hysterical, frenzied mindlessness. The almost forgotten vestiges of her principles, the morality her mother had taught her burst to the fore instinctively, even as her pussy angled upward in its own betrayal to her prurient demands.
"No! No. Arnie! Don't!" The girl fought him savagely, trying to lock her thighs together and pull away, the fog of alcohol and marijuana dissipating from her like a bad dream.
Arnold pressed on, gritting his teeth in desperation. "It's too late, baby! God damn it, you can't stop now! I'm ready to cum! Don't back out baby, you'll love it up inside your cunt!"
To Karen, all this boy was after was to shove his lust-hardened penis into her pussy and brutally snap her hymen uncaringly like a twig, and defiantly she squeezed her legs as he worked the throbbing head eagerly into her cuntal slit, locking her smooth young thighs tightly around his invading penis as it endeavored to part her wetly pulsating vaginal passage. His every stroke between her clamped thighs sent wild sensations through her as the rigid length of his prick rubbed excitingly against the erect bud of her clitoris, and as she grasped his thick, pummeling member with her body, he continued to pump wildly, and then he emitted a harsh cry:
"I'm c u m m i n g! Oh, you bitch, I'm ... I'mmmm ... ahhhhhh !"
Karen felt the boy's prick expand between her trapping inner thighs, and helpless gasps of passion poured out of him as a hot, surging fluid inundated in thick spurts from the hidden head of his penis. White, sticky semen boiled from between her legs, wetting her inner thighs and spilling up and out from along her pink, quiver ing cunt and golden fleece of pubic hair, flooding her lower abdomen and trickling down the cheeks of her smooth, arching buttocks. Then Arnold, groaning over and over as if in some anguishing pain, rolled over on the cushions, panting with his subdued frenzy.
Karen looked down at the white-hot puddle of male semen as it covered her vagina and pubic mound. She couldn't touch it, couldn't do anything but stare at the slowly drying cum which blanketed her innocence, and in mortification, she said: "Take me home."
"Oh, Jesus, Karen, I'm sorry," Arnold said, unable to look at her, just lying there with his penis still in full view, though rapidly deflating. "I ... I don't know what got into me."
"It's as much my fault as yours, Arnie," Karen said dully. She realized even in her hysterical stupor that Arnold Hutter was physically a man, and that his sex drive was too great to allow him to stop after a certain point. She should have done more to control the situation, and felt soiled and humiliated that she hadn't been able to for the first time in her life. She couldn't understand it, and at the moment didn't want to. She only wanted to go home. "Please, Arnold. Take me back or I'll walk."
Arnold sighed. He looked over at his friends, but Ham and Lola were so engrossed in their totally wanton lovemaking that they were entirely oblivious to what was happening with Arnold and Karen - and wouldn't have cared if they had been aware. Arnold turned back to his girl, realizing that he'd blown his chances for tonight by being too fast, too insistent, just as he feared might happen. That made him want this sweet little cherry trembling next to him that much more, and in a false display of chagrin and remorse, he stood up and zipped his pants up. "Yeah, maybe you're right, Karen," he said. "I'll - I'll get a towel to clean up the mess and then we'll go. But ... but I want to see you again."
"I don't know, Arnold. After this="
"It just happened, honey. We both got carried away, and that's all."
Karen thought about it for a few moments, and knew he was telling the truth, and she couldn't stop the still-gnawing desire to see him again. "All right, Arnold. All right, we'll see about tomorrow." She avoided looking at him or the writhing couple so close, their groans and grunts and heaving of breath and bodies, once so exciting, revolting to her now. "But take me home!"
"Sure, honey," the boy said, grinning. There'd be another time, another chance ... . "Sure, anything you say, Karen."
Chapter 4
Harlow Bixbee Algernon Cartwright considered himself as a pillar of the local community, a man who was forcefully leading the direction of his neighborhood's economic and political future, and whose respectability was unimpeachable and opinions avidly sought by other responsible figures both in the area and downtown. His friends considered him a pompous ass.
He was a short, chunky man the color of library paste, with course greying-black hair parted in the middle of his rather pointed head and slicked back with a patent leather shine, and prominent age-lines around his watery, wet-marble small eyes and sagging flesh of his chins. He was only eighteen months older than his wife, Janice, yet was one of those kind who are almost senile when they're born; ancient in his ways, his beliefs, his prejudices and hatreds - a tradition to him was something one kept on doing for no other reason than because it was traditional, and some of the men who had worked closer with him than others swore that Harlow Cartwright had never had an original idea in his life, hauling out platitudes and proverbs from a tattered bag of ancestral cliches to justify whatever he did or thought. Nobody could recall when he'd ever been trim and youthful, for his school mates still remembered him in his dark, formal clothes and steelrimmed spectacles and paunch-bellied dignity; as a man he had merely become more conservative in his dress, sticking to bow-ties around too-small, too-starched high c o l l a r s, and pleated pants and waistcoats to his gabardine suits, even at the height of the summer.
He belonged to and supported every Anti-league around, for he seemed to resent the fact that since he wasn't having any fun out of living, nobody else should either. In the name of Civil Rights, he'd personally emptied the local libraries of Little Black Sambo and Huckleberry Finn; and in the cause of decency, he'd stopped the bookstores and movie houses from selling or showing anything depicting life as it is or people as they are or other important, vital subjects which would have to do with sex, the wicked human body, all other basic interpersonal rela tionships.
People other than his friends not only called Harlow Bixbee Algernon Cartwright a pompous ass, but added the words "conceited, bigoted prig" as well, when they were feeling sociable about him. His parents, a gentle, elderly couple living close by, couldn't understand where he'd gotten his attitudes from, for both Bixbee and Clara Cartwright (her maiden name was Algernon) were the type who might not approve of how another person lived, but defended the right to live that way so long as it wasn't harmful to others; Harlow's meddling, as they called it, had not been a product of their teachings.
They would have been shocked to learn that because Harlow's first puppy-love affair in grade school had ended with the girl laughing at him after he'd taken his pants down at her insistance, Harlow had never trusted another women beside his mother. Only his mother had ever loved him, it had seemed to him, had ever accepted his old-man ways and unyouthful looks; he had reverted subconsciously to the Oedipus complex, and without realizing it began to consider all females other than her dangerous and potentially subversive. He had married Janice because he had reached an age where it was the thing to do and she was the only one inexperienced and withdrawn from the sinful wiles of womankind to have him - -she treated him, in other words, like his mother had.
Sex with his wife had been unconsciously to him like having sex with his mother, and since that ruined the pure relationship, sex became a punishment, both to Janice because she was a wicked woman, and to him because he was mentally making love to his mother. Freud recorded almost a volume's worth of case histories about the unadjustment of men when they didn't outgrow the Oedipal complex; Harlow Cartwright was not unique either in his derangement or his actions.
Punishment delivered to himself and his wife, he had stopped the sex and devoted his time to other things like business and the stamping out of normal, healthy objectives by mature people who just wanted to be left alone. His family became no more than a possession, a badge of his solidarity and a rational for "cleaning up" his community, and never received his love, affection, or interest - they were possessions to be used for his own warped drives, but like most embittered persons, Harlow Cartwright was jealously protective about Janice and Karen. Egotistically immature, he couldn't stand others having what he didn't or others taking what he only wanted as decoration. He'd rather smash his property than hand it over to someone who would genuinely cherish it, and it was this sad, sordid psychosis which made him buy a shotgun and shells of heavy buckshot, and set the stage for murder.
Harlow had long convinced himself that his wife was having an affair and often dreamed of catching her and her lover in the act. Of course he didn't want to warn her, so his veiled accusations had been in snide, underhanded comments which half the time went over her head, and sneaky shadowings and investigations of her actions which often puzzled her but never proved anything. When at last Janice did succumb to the repressed longings of her natural instincts and started seeing Trendell, she had been living around Harlow's odd behavior long enough to cover her tracks automatically.
She had made only one mistake, but it was the mistake Harlow had been waiting for for nearly two decades; she had left the sales slip of the dress Trendell had bought for her in her handbag, in case she had to return it for alterations, which was in another department and which required proof of purchase before doing any altering. Harlow had copied the number of the slip, gone to the credit department of the store, and unknown to his wife, had said there was some mistake, he didn't remember this item. The credit department had pulled their copy, apologized for having somehow put a purchase by Jackson Trendell on his account, and Harlow, gloating with vengeful satisfaction, had the name of Janice's lover. Trendell was in the phone book, and after waiting one night to make sure Janice was in his apartment. Harlow had slunk back to his office, savoring the agonizing relish of being a righteously indignant cuckold.
His wife was as he'd often suspected: a libertine, a harlot and adulteress, and not at all like his saintly mother. Her lover was a seducer and fornicator, and Harlow had every traditional right to strike back in defense of his family honor.
They had to pay.
Murder? Harlow Cartwright had laughed scornfully at the label, for what he had in mind was extermination, the removing of two more insideous destroyers of the American Virtues who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as he and other Good People did. But, afterall, this was an Age of Decay, Harlow had told himself; he had to plan well so as to not jeopardize his business and reputation, to become a target for ridicule and scorn and perhaps prison by those who held the strings of authority. He couldn't confront Janice and her lover in his apartment, not with so many witnesses around in other apartments and the street ... he'd have to lure them away, to someplace which was unknown and untraceable. And so he had surreptitiously rented the cabin at Lake Stephens, figuring that since he couldn't go there with his wife, his wife would arrange things so Jackson T r e n d e l l would ... and when they were there, animalistically coupling in lewd abandonment of the holy marital sacraments, he'd wreak his rightful vengeance.
He had been taken aback a bit when Janice had persuaded their daughter to come along, but after a moment's contemplation, he'd concluded that it was a cover, a cleverly constructed ruse by which Janice hoped to convince him that she was innocent of adultery; after all, with fifteen-year-old Karen along, certainly she couldn't be seeing another man. But Harlow had seen through the veil, knowing it only meant Trendell would be in a local motel or another rented cabin, and when Karen was conveniently away, Janice would revert to her whorish self and join her lover in the sybaritic worship of carnal pleasures. The only difference to his calculations was that Karen would have to be told that Janice ran off with Trendell, that he, Harlow, had heard rumors about them but didn't believe his wife and her mother capable of such things, but with Karen left up at the Lake all alone...
All alone, all right; when Karen returned to the cabin, he'd have already buried the bodies and returned to the city to wait for the hysterical call his daughter would surely make when she realized her mother was gone ... gone to the perdition she so richly deserved.
Shotgun and shovel in the trunk of his Buick, Harlow Cartwright set off for Lake Stephens as the evening began to settle over the city buildings like a grey sheet being pulled over large, blocky furniture. He detoured to the other side of the city to make sure that Jackson Trendell wasn't home, and as he'd have bet - if he had been a gambling man - Trendell's bang-fend ered Plymouth was gone from the apartment house garage. Eagerly, Cartwright headed toward the four-lane highway which would take him upstate, upstate and to the vacation cabin. He glanced at his watch: by midnight he should be there, and the itching urgency he felt made him put his foot to the floor. The Buick responded, surging along over the speed limit, something Harlow had never done before...
* * *
Jackson Trendell had spent the same day sitting in a bar, drinking beer and wishing that he wasn't. What a life, forced to work at a job he detested and wasn't any good at, and unable to be with and openly love the woman he cherished. If he only had Janice, he could start fresh, have a reason and purpose for striving, but as it was, well...
Trendell had been raised in the farming country of Southern Illinois where his widowed father raised horses; his heritage and yearnings sprung from the soil, from the roots of Nature, and he didn't feel happy when he looked at his roughhewn hands and didn't see dirt under the nails. His father was dead now, and the ranch long gone, but Jackson Trendell would still have been out there, pitching and digging and tending, if it hadn't been for Samantha. Samantha Russ, daughter of a wheat grower, the perkiest, brightest, flashing-eyed female hell-cat in ten states, and Trendell had fallen ass over stirrup for her, just like all the rest of the boys. The difference had been that Jackson Trendell had the misfortune of marrying her, unlike the others, and his slide downhill had commenced from the moment he slipped the gold band on her finger. Samantha had wanted his virility, the hours-on-end fucking which Jackson had gladly given her; she knew every trick in the book of sex, and a few more never recorded, and it seemed to him that their marriage had been one never-ending spewing of his cum up inside her demanding and ever working little pussy.
Samantha had also wanted money, lots of it, and city things and city ways, and it had taken Jackson almost three years to discover she was so hungry for them that she was fucking every man who passed through their back-woods town of Enterprise who had the balls to tell her about Chicago or New York or LA. He'd loved her so much that when he'd finally woken up to her promiscuity, he'd packed their bags and dragged her to the city lights, setting out to be that slicker-man she desired. But he hadn't been cut out for suit wearing and sidewalks, and after another year Samantha had left him flat.
He'd found her once, and after that never tried again. She was working out of an expensive hotel suite, and she laughed at him when he pleaded with her to come back to him, sneering at him as she related how she made a hundred dollars a night lying on her back, how she was saving her money and in another couple of years would be able to spit in the eye of every male in the world by going into the wholesale prostitution business, managing a string of houses for her bosses. She'd talked big and ruthless, and he saw that her insides were as hard and brittle as the make-up which caked her cheeks. And he'd seen the needle marks on the insides of her white, slim thighs, and knew she'd never make it, that her bosses had her going to their tune, and the tune would eventually become a funeral dirge.
Sickened, he'd left the city and gone back to the country life he knew and loved, but it hadn't worked. The long, lone hours on different ranches had made him think about her, for it had been in just such a kind of life that he'd been happy with her - and the good memories linger on in a man's soul after the bad ones have perished. Eventually he'd worked his way to this city, where in his misery he could retain his sanity by reliving the wretchedness of his later days with Samantha. And he knew that he would never be able to return to ranching until Samantha was out of his system.
He'd tried d r i n k i n g, but that had only drowned his sorrow on a temporary basis, and Jackson was too healthy inside to ever get used to the idea of using a crutch, shaped like a bottle or otherwise. He'd thrown himself into different kinds of work, but his employment record was of such a nature that the only work he could find was the type which didn't pay unless he produced: selling on straight commission. Magazines, used cars, funeral plots - he'd tackled them all, and after a few months they all appalled him so much that he would end up in bars, unable to force himself to knock on one more door and paste on one more false smile. This latest, selling insurance for Bridgeport Mutual and Life, was following the same road, and it was only a race to see if he quit or he was fired first.
Jackson Trendell was still a man, however, down at the heels though he might be. Women still loved him, and he'd taken his share to bed in hopes that this one, or the one after this one, would be the woman to replace Samantha. He never came close .. . until he walked into the dress department and Mrs. Harlow Cartwright waited on him. Janice - just his damn-fool luck that he'd fall in love again with a married woman, and the only thing which made the sordidness and frustration worth-while was the unalterable fact that Janice loved him just as passionately. Even Samantha hadn't been as eager for his body, his long, hard penis - and while he was sorry that Janice wouldn't do all the things that his ex-wife would, he found a satisfying relationship with her in every other respect, and that was a hell of a lot more important to him than variations between the sheets. He had hopes of melting her shyness and resistance, and she had become wilder as time passed. Why just last week -
No good torturing himself with thinking about last week and the way she'd made love with him; it only caused his eager cock to swell up as he sat on the stool and bulge his pants to the point he didn't dare walk to the men's room. If only she wasn't married! And to what? A bloated little snit, a stuffed-shirt with a reputation for hypocracy and contemptuousness, a supersilious bastard who had forced the warm blooded young woman to live an un-natural life of celibacy. Jackson alternated from clenching his beer glass as his loins ached with the pent-up desires he had for Janice, and drinking the beer in an effort to put out the flames of passion which stirred every time he so much as thought her name.
He'd wait. Somehow, he vowed as more drunken he became, that Janice was a good woman unlike that bitch Samantha, that Janice was worth waiting for; the fact that she wouldn't leave her husband until her daughter was grown and out of the nest proved to him just how inherently decent she was and how she disapproved of her uncontrollable love for him. He'd wait, and then when he finally had her for good, he could return to the life he loved and be the man he had so long rejected. And he'd fill the time until then with stolen hours and snatched opportunities to be with her
He banged the glass down, causing the bartender to turn around with a frown, interrupting his watching of the evening TV news. After a day of drinking, Jackson didn't care about the bartender, only about the lewd, throbbing pain in his cock and swollen testicles, about his avid lust for the pretty, slim-waisted, taut-breasted, raven-haired woman he loved, and where was she? She wasn't there with him where she belonged, she was up in the mountains, at some damned cabin retreat at Lake Stephens, where for two weeks she'd bask in the sun and swim in the lake with her daughter. Her daughterand then with a gleam in his eye, Jackson thought: with her daughter but not her husband! Janice had told him not to come there when he'd suggested it, to stay away because it wasn't right, not with the daughter there, too, but shit! How much can a man take? He had to have her and to hell with the consequences; once she saw him, once she felt his mouth on hers and his hands on her hard-nippled breasts and his already steel rod of a cock in her sweet, tenderly pulsating, cunt, she'd want him to stay: yeah, he'd go there and surprise her, daughter or no daughter, because she was his, Goddamnit, his no matter what her frigging marriage certificate said.
He had a couple of more beers as he thought over his audacious plan to drive up to see her, and by the time they were added to the vast amount of alcohol he'd consumed over the past eight hours, he was ready to walk into her own home itself and take on her husband. Unstead ily he got off the stool, not caring about the prominant bulge of his erection or the slight seepage of seminal fluid which had made a large, wet ring on the front of his trousers. He flipped some bills and change noisily on the polished counter, staggered into the toilet to relieve his bladder, and then walked out into the same darkening shadows which Harlow Cartwright was seeing on the way to Trendell's apartment. Jackson considered going to his apartment, then said to hell with that, he wanted to get to Janice as soon as he could; and it was a wise decision on his part to not go to his apartment, or he would have run into Harlow Cartwright, their timing being as close as it was.
With that earnest, somber expression of a drunk trying to appear sober, Jackson slowly walked to his Plymouth. He dropped the keys once, but then started an engine, and with an impatient jerk of the wheel, started on his way to Lake Stephens. Lake Stephens, Janice Cartwright, and destiny.
Chapter 5
Ellery Quinn, for all his aching desire to delve into the hot, tingling, moist cunt of Mrs. Janice Cartwright, knew that to suddenly hit her with his threats, his demands and evil proposals, could very well sour an otherwise wonderful set-up. He had learned the secret of timing, of how to mix honey with vinegar so as to lead an unwilling little bed partner not only into bed, but into becoming a seething, hungrily demanding partner as well. He was having a difficult time controlling his cock from again leaping into full erection just at the sight of the lovely fully clothed young wife, for she was as delicate as heather mist to him, the way she half-lidded her eyes and sensually cast them downwards, and he longed to tear his bathing trunks off and thrust his hard, throbbing penis into the narrow, teasing slit of her warm, moist pussy that he'd seen and photographed that afternoon. But he knew that this was not the moment, that before the physical conquest of her resilient flesh had to come a stage of mental submission, a lessening of the barriers one stranger automatically erects toward another, and when that spirit of softness was reached ... a relaxing that was almost there.
"I'm so glad you asked me to stay," he purred over the table, smiling at Janice Cartwright. "It's so much better than sitting around all alone, isn't it?"
"Yes," Janice replied. "Yes, it certainly is." She raised her drink and sipped from it. Her mind was still confused, still a whirling morass of conflicting emotions. It was better, she had to admit honestly to herself. It hadn't been good for her to sit here brooding by herself, becoming more depressed as if the cabin was a tomb, vacant as if filled with the dead. Yes, company was better, but that hadn't been her intention when she'd opened the door to him.
How had it happened? There she had been, slightly afraid of this Mr. Quinn as he had stood there, a little intimidated by a neighbor who was so handsome, so masculine, so ... well, she hadn't been able to put her finger on it, other than he had seemed to be overwhelmingly magnetic. In that respect, he reminded her of Jackson, of her lover's forceful personality and pervasive muskiness, and the same sort of tingling of animal attraction had hit her in the pit of the stomach when she'd met Mr. Quinn. Even now, as they drank and talked in a civilized, adult, and very respectable manner, she found herself looking at him with a detached interest, not as a potential sex mate, but just as a very good-looking man.
His presence bothered her in some inexplicable way, in an ethereal, uneasy fashion which she couldn't put her finger on, but which had been unsettling to her from the very first, from the moment she had stepped aside to allow him to enter the cabin, as he'd requested. She knew that his being here with her was perfectly all right, that in this day and age a lone woman is not considered bad if she enjoys the company of a nice man, as it might have been in her mother's day. She knew that nothing would happen, nothing could happen; she had been on her guard and would continue to be, and Mr. Quinn had been the very soul of gentlemanly discretion. But still there was the pervading air of something wrong, something deliciously wrong as if she was skirting danger and relishing her brush with fate. She tried to think back to what had caused it, but as she recalled from the time he'd introduced himself to the present, she couldn't remember the conversation, much less what was behind her apprehensions.
She'd had a hard time meeting his frankly brazen gaze, she remembered that clear enough, but how had the conversation evolved from Mr. Quinn being out of sugar for a special drink he was preparing to inviting him to stay awhile? There had been the talking in the kitchen alcove and then he'd mixed her a sample of his drink, which had been delicious and luckily used gin as its base - but who had first suggested that sampling? Had she? It was all hazy .... And was she the one who had felt it so sad that he, too, was all alone that evening and had thought up the idea of mixing a pitcher of his specialty? It must have been, for Mr. Quinn certainly wasn't the type to invite himself. It was so unclear in her mind, leaving only the ambivalent feelings that it was a natural, innocently gracious gesture to have him stay, and that in spite of his manner, she couldn't escape the weird impression that he was mentally undressing her all the time, and she was all but naked as she sat there across from him.
Quinn had been with Janice for almost an hour and a half, and she'd found the time flying, and as she drained the drink in her hand, she shrugged off her apprehensions. He was witty and could converse artfully on a dozen different subjects, and even his only slightly naughty risqu� jokes hadn't been offending, but set her laughing delightedly. And as she set her glass down she decided to relax and stop being such an old wet blanket, that the sensations in the depths of her belly were the result of one too many glasses of his excellent gin drink, and that what the hell, she was having a far better time in the company of this Mr. Quinn than if she was alone.
And the carnal, lust-raging Ellery Quinn caught the almost imperceptible relaxing of Janice Cartwright's natural defenses, and gloated with a satyr's evil satisfaction. This was what he'd been waiting for, had with the consummate skill of a devilish master of seduction steered the conversation artfully from the innocuous excuse of being out of sugar, to finding out what kind of liquor she had available, and then miraculously having a "special" using it as a base - which in actuality was a quick selection of one of the numerous recipes that his years had awarded him then to being invited to stay, and finally a slow and inexorable channeling to other, more intimate talk. He was experienced in the sensing of the most subtle of moods, knowing when to retreat or advance, just as now he stifled a smirk having sensed this passionate young woman's release of her qualms.
"I could use another refill, Janice," Quinn said, glancing at the pretty Mrs. Cartwright and picking up the nearly empty pitcher. "How about you, hmmm?"
"No, no thank you, Mr. Quinn. I better not."
"Ellery, please. After all, we are neighbors."
"El-Ellery. But please, no more right now."
Janice's head was woozy from the unaccustomed heavy amount of alcohol she'd had over the past few hours, both from her own hand and the specials of the man across from her. On an empty stomach, the gin had gone straight to her head, and she realized belatedly that she was nearly drunk, that much besides not being able to remember the conversations with Mr. Quinn - Ellery - -she couldn't even recall the number of drinks she'd consumed. Her empty glass was on the coffee table, empty from five, six, perhaps seven "specials." Worse, she didn't really care, but she knew that she had to stop. But Ellery was already pouring some in her glass - after she'd specifically asked him not to!
"Please, Mr. - Ellery, I told you I didn't want any more to drink. I'm ... that is, I think I've had enough before I get something to eat."
Quinn chuckled, appraising the lusciously figured wife and mother, and he was renewed with a burgeoning desire for the raven-haired beauty with her damnably provocative innocent appeal. Quinn was nearly unable to sit back in his chair as his cock stiffened into a throbbing, painful erection again and bulged his pants.
"Janice," the lecherous rou� said, his face now opening into a lewd, salacious grin of desire, "Janice, I have to admit that there was another reason I'm glad you asked me to stay."
A clammy iciness crawled up the lovely wife's slender backbone, as if in his tone and sudden leer she was able to perceive what was in store for her. Her throat was suddenly dry, and the gin pounded in her temples parasitically, but somehow she managed to stammer: "Wh-what, Mr. Quinn? I don't understand."
"No, I'm sure you don't," he mused darkly. "But you will, Janice, you will. And do call me Ellery." He arched his loins and from the inside of his bathing suit he produced a flat envelope; he'd carried it there the whole time he'd been with Janice, both because he wanted to be sure she didn't ask premature questions about it if she'd seen it before he was ready, and because even the close proximity of the pictures the envelope carried excited him, made him dwell on the salacious finger-fucking scene he'd so thoroughly photographed that afternoon. He placed them on the coffee table, beside the glass.
"Here," he urged. "Open the envelope and see for yourself."
Trembling with anxiety, Janice slowly leaned forward and picked up the envelope as he'd ordered, and after one chilling look at the obscenely glittering eyes of Quinn, she'd hurriedly ripped open the flap and removed the pictures. "Oh my God!" she croaked, sucking in her breath as blood rushed from her face and leaving it deathly pale. In horror she shuffled through them, through the top ones in which she was standing, frontally naked to the camera, her hands on her hips and all of her breasts and pubic mound displayed, and not only her, but her daughter as well, almost lewdly sprawled on the towel by her feet, her legs wide, and her young, tender, pink-lipped vagina nakedly apparent in close detail. The pictures didn't seem to end but go on and on ... her and Karen lying, sitting, rubbing oil on one another. Even before she got to the bottom half, she had the horrid revulsion gorge her throat that she knew what was coming ... what the pictures surely must show. And to her utter and total horror she was right.
"Isn't this a fine one of you, Janice?" Quinn chortled obscenely as he pointed out the first of her alone, alone and spread-eagled on the porch, fingering herself. Her hands were on her breast, squeezing the hard, round globe, and tangled in the p u b i c hair of her own moist, splayed-wide vagina. Every sinew of her beautiful, quivering body had been caught by the fine eye of the Poloroid, catching every detail of her exquisite, self-caused torture as she strained for physical fulfillment, and her mouth was open and her face contorted with crazed, raw lust.
"Or isn't this a jewel?" Quinn tortured her with his tormenting words, indicating another of the lewd photographs, describing in minute detail Janice's actions. His breath was heavier, for the photos and the humiliation he was inflicting upon the shocked, mortified young wife made him desire her even more. "I was there all the time, you see, Janice," he cruelly added. "There's a hole in the screening which I know about. I know - -but you didn't. I think this one is the best, don't you? The one where you were teasing that pretty little anus of yours while the rest of your fingers were digging in your cunt so frantically."
Janice Cartwright's head reeled from the abject humiliation of sitting before this stranger while his now beady eyes absorbed the views of her self-seeking gratification, at the way she was jolted with tearful anguish by each new posture of her passions and shuddering under the degrading monologue he uttered, using the most obscene words to d e s c r i b e what he'd watched and photographed in lurid, full-color precision. She wanted to vomit, hit and slash and tear herself away from the reality of her situation, and in a hysterical act of defiance, she ripped the photos in half, then half again, until there wasn't anything left of them except a pile of tiny, flesh-tinted squares.
Janice looked up, trying to stop the quaver in her voice, the unreasoning desire to scream at this wretched, sick, Mr. Quinn. "Get out," she gasped, choking. "Get out of this cabin and take your dirty, pornographic filth with you! Get out, you hear?"
"Don't shout, Janice," Quinn said calmly, sitting back and crossing his legs. "I hear you, and I'll go. That is, if you really want me to."
"I do! I do!" The nearly mindless housewife blurted.
"But if I do," Quinn said, suddenly turning grim and threatening, "Your husband will re ceive a set of you playing with that tender little pussy of yours. That's right, Janice; I have others. Many others. Those you have are only a sampling of them, and not even the best. And let me see, what about the ones of you and your daughter nakedly fondling each other.
"No! Not Karen! You wouldn't involve an innocent child - ?"
"Oh, yes I would. And I will. I'll have enough prints of these pictures made to blanket every bar and book store from Seattle to Miami. I will make sure that some of the sets are sent to your husband's friends. Believe me - I will." He grinned maliciously again, bursting with the gloating satisfaction of grinding this proud woman down to being his slave. "This is, if you want me to leave. Think about it, and maybe you'll ask me to stay."
A light tremor of goose-flesh rippled over Janice as she stared at Quinn's eyes and clearly saw there was no denying the lust-filled gleam in them or the truth of his threats. She swallowed tightly, her throat and lungs constricted with effort.
"Do you want me to stay?" Quinn leered expectantly.
"Y-yes."
"Ask me, Janice. Ask me nicely," Quinn commanded savagely.
"PI-please stay, Ellery. I want you to stay very much."
Quinn's smile broadened. "Well now, that's better." He picked up her glass and offered it to her. "Better drink it, Janice. Make it easier on you."
She stared at him for a long moment, dread coming alive in her. She took the drink and lifted it to her lips nervously, taking a small sip and then the rest of the glass, feeling it burn her mouth, her throat, all the way to the pit of her nervously throbbing stomach. My God, she couldn't believe that she was sitting here, ready to bargain with her body for her only child's happiness ... . She was trapped and she would have to submit to this crude man's demands, to get whatever he wanted over with quickly and get those pictures of her innocently touching her daughter and her later sinful disgrace. If Harlow ever got hold of such p h o t o s, Janice wouldn't know what he'd do, considering his fierce pride of ownership. And if Jackson should ever learn of this, he would be humiliated beyond belief, and she would lose his love forever. How could she deny, explain, justify the bitter calamity of herself and poor, sweet Karen in every dirty old man's trembling hands from coast to coast? She couldn't, and if she didn't submit to Ellery Quinn for her own safety, she'd have to for her daughter's well-being and future. Perhaps, afterwards, she could begin to forget and live a normal life again.
"Now, this film and my time are expensive, Janice," Quinn sneered rapaciously from his chair. "If you want the pictures back, as I'm sure you do for obvious reasons, we'll have to come up with some way of repaying my expenses and perhaps a little extra for the value of my silence."
"Blackmail!" Janice cried out in horror. "How much? I'll pay somehow ... name the amount, name it ... ." the raven-haired wife mewled helplessly.
"I don't want money," Quinn spat. "No, I think there's other ways. Better ways, Janice, if you see what I mean."
The terrified, hapless Mrs. Cartwright looked over at Ellery Quinn, endevouring to portray an outward calm by a sheer force of will, while deep inside her body was the whirlpool of knots and convulsions. She knew exactly what he had in mind now, knew that he meant to force her to submit her body to him and work off the debt of those photos, and the only question was regarding exactly what perversion, what foul act of degrading, whorish sex was to happen to her should she be agreeable. Still, she sought to play naive.
"Wh-what do you have in mind?" Janice asked hesitantly.
"You're a smart woman, Janice," Quinn chuckled and stood up, and she saw now the extent of his excitement, his lecherous desire for her now that victory was at hand. The bulge of his hard penis stretched the tight nylon fabric of his bathing suit almost to the breaking point, and a dark, widening stain of his seminal emissions was plainly evident on the front, right where the throbbing head of his cock pressed against the fabric. "I want to fuck you, fuck the living daylights out of you starting right now."
"I ... see," she flinched at the lewd words, but forced herself to continue. "And if I ... I let you, what then?"
"Why, tomorrow you get all the pictures. No fuss, no muss, and nobody will be the wiser."
Janice felt her lips twist into a harsh, cynical smile as the galling acidity of her choice poisoned her mouth. The ghastly truth of submitting to this handsome but beastial man in exchange for the avoidance of a worse fate seemed inconceivable to her, but it was a fact, and she knew that she was going to do just that. She felt nauseous as she imagined what was going to take place, the sensation of Ellery Quinn's obviously huge cock buried in her defenseless pussy, and momentarily the threat of vomiting returned.
Quinn read the symptoms and forced another glass of gin into her trembling hands. "Here, Mrs. Cartwright, drink it. Drink all of it."
She felt the liquor sear her throat as it spilled into her stomach with a warming sensation that slowly began to spread through her chilled blood. The big man was sitting beside her now, and had his arm around her; she could smell the heavy scent of his male excitement and then his hand tightened, his fingers toying with the tender flesh of one breast beneath the quilted material of her culottes.
"You ... you better give me another drink," she heard herself say, and then the gin once more glowed in her belly. Maybe if she drank enough it would be endurable ... . Dear God! All this to make up for her own miserable mistake, and the future of her only daughter!
"Feeling better, Janice?" Quinn smiled lecherously, removing the glass from her hand and drawing her to him. The tormented young mother found courage from the burning liquor in her body and said, "Oh no, oh Lord, no, not here, please. Don't make me do it here, because my daughter might come home and see us."
Ellery Quinn, aware that since the daughter was out with that Arnold Hutter, the chances of her appearing before morning were damned slim, didn't tell the distraught lovely woman that her daughter was probably being fucked half senseless right at that moment. Instead he grinned, removed his pawing hand, and pulled her upright out of the chair as he stood. He looked at the totally capitulating Janice and snickered, "Fair enough. We'll fuck in your bedroom."
Still in a half-comotose shock of disbelief, Janice allowed Quinn to take her by the hand and guide her to the small bedroom, still utterly at his mercy with his base and brutally obscene demands. How could this have happened? How could she have become the victim of such ugly perversion?
"Take that thing off you're wearing," Quinn commanded crudely. "Strip down to your bare ass, the same way you were this afternoon, you hear?" And he laughed raucously.
Her mind tried to formulate thoughts but she struggled against them, wanting only blankness, only a total void of what was being done to her and by her. Obediently she zipped down the culottes and slid out of her all-enveloping wrap, then unhooked the meager bra she wore, threw it on top of her culottes, and after a hesitant, shuddering second of revulsion, sent her thin, white lace panties on the same pile. She lay down on the strange, cold bed and saw Quinn had removed his robe and trunks, and she gasped involuntarily as she studied the size of him, the wealth of hair, and his great, thick cock which stood out from his flat, muscled abdomen like a huge ram-rod, his weighty testicles swaying between his inner thighs as he lightly stroked his penile shaft back and forth.
Butterflies filled her stomach as she tried to hate herself, but as he moved toward her on the bed, unwanted tongues of prurient desire began to tickle her loins and moisten the mouth of her vaginal tunnel. Oh God, oh God, what has she become? First her inability to stop fingering herself, and now this ... she is sick, sick and no better than this terrible man about to rape her, she thought through the thick taste of the gin. "Where's the gin?" she cried out suddenly. "Please, please give me another drink!"
Quinn laughed and walked into the living room, his stiff cock swaying in front of him as if pointing the way. He returned with a full glass of his "special," which he handed to her saying: "That's all there is, Janice. Sorry, but you've just about drunk a full bottle of gin." She swallowed the glassful thirstily, thinking that one bottle hadn't been enough, not now, not considering ... . Quinn was on the bed now, stroking her naked flesh, sliding his hands provocatively over the awakening mounds of her breasts and down over her belly to the soft, fleshy folds of her cunt. He wanted her excited as he was, for then his mastery and control over her would be complete. And he knew just how to do it, to draw the unwanted passions for sex from the very depths of her soul, and he continued to caress her flesh, her moist, pink vagina, her tender and quivering little clitoris as she unconsciously spread her legs to his large hands until her skin seemed to her to be a hot sheet of molten steel.
Her eyes clenched shut, her mind battling the reality of who was teasing his hands up between her thighs and what was happening, she could only sink deeper into the seething pit of sensitivity. Her body ached to be touched gently, the way Jackson did so well, the way the hands on her now were doing ... oh yes, so gentle ... gentle ... that way ... her brain swam! She'd drunk too much! Good! Good! She kept thinking of Jackson in her boiling fever, Jackson whom she loved, and once more it was his fingertips playing over her defenseless skin. "Aaahhh, yes, darling," she crooned deleriously. "Ahhhh, Jackson, Jackson, darling ... ." She knew it wasn't her lover; she wasn't that drunk, but if she could imagine it was him, perhaps she could hold onto her sanity. "Jackson... ."
"It's Ellery, Janice," Quinn exclaimed, his greedy eyes feasting on her lewdly squirming nakedness. He edged around, pushing her milkywhite thighs wider apart, and then he slithered between them, his face a panting few inches from the hair-covered slit of her pulsating vagina. His mouth watered as he gaped at the sensual rotation of the deliciously narrow opening of pink flesh, and his hot, moist lips lowered to her soft mound at the base of her belly and he planted tingling, soft kisses on the still snug apperture, his tongue lashing teasingly at her quivering pussy.
"Aggggggggh !" Janice deleriously cried out, jerking insanely. "Jackson! Jackson! Oh God ... you've never done this to me before!"
Her own hands moved uncontrollably down over her throbbing breasts and along her heaving stomach to rest at her hips, her fingers stroking softly for a moment at the flexing hollows of her inner thighs. Then, unable to stop her mounting spiral of passion, the black-haired wife moved her hands again and spread. the fleshy, hair-lined lips of her moist cuntal fur row apart, allowing the stranger complete access to her wet, quivering clitoris. She tossed her head from side to side as his searing wet lips sucked and drew the warm, soft folds into the hot cavern of his mouth, while his tongue continued its maddening licking against the straining bud of her pink clitoris. She groaned unashamedly, and her hips ground hungrily around on the cabin bed, soft mewling animal sounds occasionally escaping as in her passion, she clenched her teeth together.
The big, muscular Quinn worked demonically, feeling her dark moistened pubic hair brush tantalizingly against his cheeks. Christ, he'd never seen anything like this woman! The way she was squirming under his tongue, and from what she said, this was her first time at being sucked ... she really loved it, and her groans were driving him wild! He worked his tongue faster up and down her steaming hot cunt, and he ached for the moment when the proud young wife would beg for his cock to fuck her, beg for it as she most certainly must at this rate, and the time wasn't far off.
Her hands tangled in his hair, forcing his face closer to the tight little hole of her squirming, pink-edged hole. She guided his mouth so that it covered the clasping viscous opening, and he thrust his tongue deep within it, raising a low gutteral moan from Janice whose soft, warm thighs closed convulsively around either side of his head, and the walls of her invaded vagina opened and closed spasmodically, attempting to suck his tongue deeper and deeper into it with a volition of its own. Her heels pushed back on the bed and her body was lost in the fire of the moment and the imagined embrace of her lover, every muscle she had tensed as she strained upwards toward the maddening probe between her legs. Jackson was magnificent! She had never dreamed that her lover could bring such pleasure from her!
And then suddenly it stopped. The head between the lust-trap of her clenched thighs was suddenly gone, and no matter how hard she arched her back or widened her flame-seared cunt, the gluttonous licking didn't begin again. "Oooohh! Ooohhh! Jackson! Jackson, darling! Don't stop! Go on! Go on!" she pleaded. "Oh God, don't stop licking my cunt now!" She splayed her legs and kicked wildly. "Jackson! Where are you, darling?"
"D a m n i t, my name is Ellery!" Quinn howled. Her passionate craving to have her pussy licked had sent him to the point of not being able to control his desires. The woman was too much for him! He had to stop or he'd explode all over the g o d d a m n e d bedspread! "Damnit, I'm Ellery, not Jackson," he snarled, "and you're going to suck me now!"
Then Janice opened her eyes for the first time since she'd been assaulted, and her mouth gaped as she realized where she was and that it teas a man named Ellery and not her lover on top of her. She tried to cry out as he crawled over her writhing body, but he lifted his legs over her and positioned himself with his buttocks squeezing her aching, hard breasts, his knees nearly to her arm-pits. And his throbbing, angry-red penis pulsed in front of her face.
"Now, it's my turn, Mrs. Cartwright," Quinn hissed down at her, taking her head between his hands firmly and maneuvering it so that her mouth leveled even with his cock. "Suck it, bitch! Damn it, suck my cock like I sucked your cunt! "
Chapter 6
"Good-night, Arnie," Karen Cartwright said as she stepped from Hutter's old Ford.
"Gee, Karen, I - " Hutter licked his lips, abashed.
"Don't apologize anymore, Arnold. I told you I'd see you again." She sighed and closed the door, for in spite of the fact it was still relatively early, the close call with losing her virginity to this boy had exhausted her mentally and physically. "Maybe I'll walk down to the store tomorrow, all right?"
"Yeah, Karen. That'll be fine."
The cabin was well lit as she walked up to the front door; she paused, Hutter's car moving from where he'd parked in the drive slowly, as if he didn't want to leave her. Oh God, Karen thought as she looked at the door, Mother's still up, and I'll have to say goodnight to her. She hoped she'd gotten all of Arnold's hot, sticky semen off her thighs and dress - she and Arnold had both cleaned her as best they could - ,and there weren't any tell-tale stains left which would raise questions. She trembled, her head still swirling from the madness which had overcome her and the enveloping whirlwind of her own emotions as she'd seen Ham and Lola naked in the water, later copulating before her on the cushions, and then Arnold nearly raping her with his large, throbbing penis which had ejaculated his cum all over her pussy ... and the effects of her traumatic evening and the marijuana and sangria still were there, filling her blood with tingling, effervescent tendrils of desire, a quaking impulse to lose her precious virginity and lustily partake of flesh-reveling lewdness.
She gripped the doorknob, sucking in her breath so that when she confronted her mother, she'd have some semblance of control, as if nothing had happened and her insides weren't still seething with barely banked fires of sexual frenzy. It had taken everything she had learned from her mother to stop herself, everything her love for her mother demanded she honor, to fight off her urges and Hutter's insistences, and she tried to will herself to calmness so that she could somehow rationally examine what had happened and why so that next time she was with Arnold it wouldn't happen again.
But her mother wasn't in the brilliantly lighted livingroom. Strange, Karen thought as she looked about, seeing the cigarettes and empty pitcher and the small pile of ripped photos. Very strange ... and then she caught the light from the bedroom through the slightly ajar door, and figured that her mother had gone to bed to read or something. Brushing her jumper reflexively, she steeled herself for the encounter and walked across the cabin to the bedroom.
A harsh groan stopped her in her tracks. It was a male voice! Then another, followed by her mother's slurred voice desperately pleading in a tone Karen had never heard before!
"Agggg! Jackson, oh Jackson, darling! Oh God..."
The teenage girl paled, her hand rushing to her wide open mouth, frozen with uncertainty what to do.
"Jackson! Ohhhhh, yes! Yes, lick me that way! Ohhh ..."
Her mother was asking for it, for whatever torture was being inflicted upon her! Karen had to find out what was going on ... she slowly tip-toed to the door, her whole body tense, and then she eased the door wider until she could see the whole bedroom, the bed in the middleand she recoiled, her beautiful young face draining of blood! She choked back a cry of horror in her young throat as her vision swam with the lewd exhibition of depravity her drunken mother and a strange man were intensely embraced in; her mother, her prudish, virtuous mother who Karen had figured had given up sex years ago, was lying on her back in a sensual position of un-natural lovemaking, her legs raised high in the air as the big, tanned man buried his head and made loud wet sucking noises between her inner thighs. She was clutching his hair and grinding her pelvis desperately up against his face, and the man's large, wet tongue lashed like a snake, disappearing into the soft, hairlined slit of her wide-splayed vagina, and Karen heard the resultant murmuring encouragements mewling from her mother's passioncrazed mouth, words broken and swallowed.
The horrified teenage girl couldn't believe her ears, and a tightening sensation caught her in the depths of her muscle-taut belly while she blinked her eyes still hazy from the marijuana and sangria, trying to bring them into proper focus to assure herself that what she was seeing was actually taking place. The horrible scene was beyond her comprehension, and she stepped backwards as if struck by a blow. Karen shook her head in an effort to think straight, the almost overpowering thought blazing through her that she should intervene, should rush in and tear this vile, disreputable man from her mother's vagina and end the wanton debauchery of everything holy. My God, she'd never wit nessed such a spectacle of unadulterated lust ... even the pagan display of salaciousness which Ham and Lola had done in their craving to fuck each other on the beach wasn't as bad as this, for Ham and Lola were like animals, but this ... this was ...
This was her own mother!
Karen Cartwright, temporarily hypnotized by the c o r r u p t i n g sight of seeing her beloved mother making carnal love to a complete stranger, was suddenly and totally shattered by the full import of the revelation of who the woman was. Her mother - a crazed nymphomaniac, no more than some slut rolling abandonedly in naked lust with the first man who came along, a man she kept calling Jackson. Some mother, always lecturing Karen on not giving away her body, on watching out for hands and mouths, always talking about the purity of love. What a bunch of crap it had been, a load of hypocracy! Karen told herself she should turn away and let the night have her mother, but she couldn't - she found herself listening and staring and instead of being absolutely revolted by seeing her mother's naked body spread-eagled in depravity on the bed, a strange, light-feathered quivering began deep between her thighs.
It was almost as if ... as if the scene excited her!
It was. Karen, unbeknownst to her conscious mind, was being affected by the tremendous subconscious drives of her inner soul. The years of building a filial bond with her mother, drawn more intensely because of her father's alienation of both her and her mother and his thinly veiled fear and contempt for women in general, was beginning to break through the tender crust of the young teenage girl's immature control. The sangria, the powerful marijuana, aided and abetted by the lust-provoking actions of Arnie, Lola, and Ham, had released many of the restraints her moral upbringing had instilled in her, and now this - this shattered the last of Karen's resistance. For as she watched her mother's cunt being sucked, she was mentally watching herself, so strong was her empathetic projection of her personality with the writhing, passionately subjected woman on the bed. She felt each lash of the big man's tongue just as if he was licking her own enflamed pussy, and as her mother moaned and shuddered, goosebumps rippled across Karen's full, pulsating breasts, now beginning to fall and rise heavily, the nipples distended against the sheer netting of her bra.
She watched in wild-eyed, lewd fascination as the man worked animallike at the widespread tightness of her mother's cunt, and she could see the contortions on her face above the white mounds of her breasts. Suddenly, he raised Karen's mother by the legs, his hand down in the furrow between her buttocks, exposing the whole flat plane of her vaginal slit. He flicked his tongue into the tight little anus, and Karen stared as if mesmerized by the sight as a long, low wail escaped from Janice Cartwright's mouth, her lips bared back over her teeth at the obvious sensations racing through her heated, uncontrollably shaking body.
"Ohhhhh, Jackson, don't stop? Don't stop"' Janice whined, writhing her hips furiously at the hot, slavering tongue licking without mercy between the open cheeks of her uptilted buttocks. "I like it! I like it so much! Ohhhh!"
Karen hardly dared breathe now, the rasping bubbling from her throat and lungs having become so loud she feared she would be detected. The insides of her mouth was parched and hot, and the prurient sensation between her inner thighs caused her to clamp them tightly together, making her own wetness apparent to her. She reached down, unable to stop her hand as if it was separate from her, a life unto itself, and she stroked her tender, young pubic mound sensuously, the way Arnold had done a short while before. Never before in her short life had she experienced such a repulsive sense of fascination, and the obscene sight and wetly exciting sounds held her spellbound, and a throbbing of agonizing desire built in her virginal cunt and hard breasts, and she realized that she was wishing in the back of her mind that it was she lying naked on the bed, that the big man with his thick cock was licking her cunt ...
Suddenly Karen saw the man lower her legs and raise himself up to kneel in front of the other's face with his knees straddling her body on either side. His long, rigid penis stood out in the air, all but brushing her mother's trembling lips. "Ohhhh ..." Karen heard her mother chant, hips, thighs, and wet, black-haired cunt revolving and arching madly off the bed, "Jackson! Where are you darling?"
"Damnit, my name is Ellery!" the man cursed. Karen gulped as the man who called himself Ellery, not Jackson as her mother kept repeating, rubbed the glistening, massive flesh of his cock-head in the mother's face. "Suck it, bitch," she heard him hiss, "suck my cock like I sucked your cunt!"
Janice Cartwright had her eyes wide open now, but all she could see was the quivering, blood-enraged head of Ellery Quinn's penis glistening wetly from its sheen of lubrication. The yellow light of the bedroom's lamp fell across his cock, adding to its fascination, and she reflexively tried to resist by rolling her head from side to side. But Quinn pressed his hands tighter around her head, imprisoning her, making her stay before the nearing shaft of his cock, and the hard, spongy head finally touched her lips, rubbing lightly across her teeth. The terrified mother hesitated, sickened by the thought of her mouth being used as a receptacle of lust by this stranger, but then the lewd threats he'd made and the images of the pictures flashed through her mind, and she parted her lips to receive his thick pole of flesh. She had never had a man's penis in her mouth before, never allowed it in all her years of marital relations; she considered it dirty and degrading, and when Jackson had wanted her to do it to him, she'd said that it defiled the purity of their love. Just as she had when he'd desired to kiss and suck her genitals - -an act which in her mind her lover had just performed, assaulting her cunt with intense pin-points of needle-sharp sensations.
To suck Ellery Quinn's cock now only accentuated the terrible entrapment of her mind and body, was the very act of abhorrence which signified her humiliation and anguish and complete capitulation to the lewd outrages which she had brought upon herself, and as Quinn gasped and leaned forward, sliding the gland of his giant head wetly up the full length of her tongue and she tasted the salty pungency of his secretions filling the warm cavern between her cheeks, her mind wandered in an alcoholic deliriousness again. She would suck his cock, suck as hard and passionately as she could to please this beastial and cruel blackmailershe had to until those pictures were safely in her hands and she could destroy forever the lurid depictions of her and her daughter.
She ran her tongue wetly around and around the shaft of Quinn's cock, flicking the tip into his tiny open slit at the head of his blunt spear, feeling it swell and pulsate with life. She would show Quinn, she drummed through her gin-fogged brain, she'd show him she could please; he wanted her to suck, she'd suck ... he wanted a whore, then a whore she'd be, doing all the tricks a whore can do. Her tortured, confused mind droned on senselessly, the very helplessness of her position excusing away the wierd masochistic sensations arising erotically in her belly and loins.
Janice Cartwright sucked and licked in earnest, and as she did, the powerful stimulations Quinn's tongue had sent coursing through her body began to build in her pussy again, and though a great shudder passed through her and a wave of revulsion ran along her spine as she realized what she was avidly doing, the exquisite madness of being totally at Quinn's mercy coupled with her abject acceptance of his kisses on her triangle of moist, hair-covered vaginal lips was enormous, quickly overcoming any and all opposing emotions. She felt the hair of his pubic area against her chin and lips, his testicles sweeping against her with every thrust, and as the previous sensations of abandoned ecstasy grew again to hotly burn her seething loins, nothing mattered but the sweet agony of lovely swirling fire which once more rippled over every inch of her naked flesh. She writhed and twisted beneath Quinn as he buffeted her, using her helpless body as the obscene vehicle for his crazed, cruel lust.
"Squeeze my balls!" Quinn rasped down at the lovely wife. "Take them but be gentle. And suck! Suck, baby, suck harder!"
Janice cupped his soft, semen-filled testicles and sucked demon-like, swishing her tongue with vengeance around and around the throbbing head sliding in and out of her widely ovaled lips, the masochistic response to knowing that she was completely helpless and could do nothing else permeating her flesh in tingling, spiraling thrills, making her mewl submissively from her tightly locked mouth filled with pumping cock, and she shivered inwardly in forbidden blissful delight.
Karen Cartwright saw her mother's lips nibble forward with an eagerness as the man thrust forward with his muscular hips, and slid his wetly glistening cock within the confines of her warm, wet mouth. The girl stared at the tiny ridges of soft pink flesh pulling from her mother's rounded lips as he drew back and forth in a lewd burlesque of the sex act, sliding his rockhard shaft into her voraciously sucking cavity and rhythmically sawed back and forth. She heard her mother moan, and Quinn order her to squeeze his balls, and then her mother reach up between his wide-spread thighs and cradle the softness of his testicles in her palms, stroking them gently as she voraciously sucked his thick, wet, glistening piston of flesh. And once more Karen caught the overwhelming sense of involvement and touched her own tender, moistly pulsating cunt with her fingers, sliding her hand up and down the throbbing flesh of her slit in time to the methodically ramming cock.
Abruptly, an electric jolt shot through her making her remove her hand, for suddenly another pair of hands were slipping around her and curling their fingers over her hard, tingling breasts.
"Shhh!" the voice of Arnold Hutter warned. "They'll hear you." He whispered in her ear as he drew her back against him, pressing his already hardened cock into the crevice between her buttocks. "I stopped by Ellery Quinn's place after dropping you off, Karen, but he wasn't there. Some pictures were, though, and I figured this is where he might be." He snickered softly at the recollection of the pictures. "Yeah, and I was right. Quite a show, ain't it?" He breathed hotly into the young girl's face. "I've been standing here, behind you, watching too. She's really sucking him off, ain't she?"
"Don't talk that way!" Karen hissed shrilly over her shoulder. "She's my mother!"
"I know," Hutter snickered again. "I've seen her before."
"And ... and another thing," Karen ordered, "take your hands off me this minute!" She tried to squirm free of his clutching hands on her breasts, feeling once more the numbing excitement from his touch grind in her loins. She didn't want anything to happen, not now with her mother but a few feet away.
But Arnold wasn't about to release his hold, and he shoved his hardened penis into her buttocks, pressing her skirt into the soft, quivering crevice while his hands continued to massage her breasts. "Now, why you getting on your high horse for? I told you I've been here, and I saw you stand and watch them suck and lick each other for ten minutes, and then put your hand inside your panties and play with that sweet little pussy of yours. You know what I think? I think you wish you were in there and sucking on that big juicy cock."
"No ... Oh God, Arnold, stop it! You're sick!" she whispered but as he pressed forward and she could once again watch the utterly despicable performance going on in the bedroom and he continued to squeeze and caress her breasts, his palpitating cock throbbing between the cheeks of her buttocks. She found that she was more beside herself than ever with near uncontrollable mixture of rage, abhorrence, and unfathomably smoldering lust which the combined obscenities were enkindling in her.
"Hot damn, you're luscious," Hutter hissed, and he slid one hand gently over her stomach, down ... down to gently apply pressure at the mound of her pelvis while the intensifying sensations surging through her nerves reigned unchecked. She shut her eyes, fighting against it with all her strength, but Hutter had her in a position where she couldn't fight back and he knew it; if she resisted too strongly they were bound to be discovered like this, and the last thing she ever wanted to happen was for her mother to find out the way her daughter had been spying on her, excited to the point of no return by the lewd, carnal fuck show on the bed. Good Lord, but she must fight, Karen said to herself, she must! But his soft fingers gently teasing at her breasts and the hardness of his penis in her unresisting vaginal cleft and the fingers of his other hand slowly, tantalizingly gathering the hem of her skirt up was too much for the teenager to bear, and all she could do was whimper helplessly as lasciviously devilish tingles rippled across her skin.
"Ohhhh, no, no, don't touch me there ..."
Arnold had a hard time swallowing a harsh, brutal laugh. "A fine one to say that," he whispered wetly. "That's where my hand was before ... where I saw you rubbing up and down ... heh, heh, damned right I'm going to touch you there again, and I'm going to do a lot more to that sweet little cherry cunt of yours, Karen."
The virgin girl moaned and tried to pull away, using all her willpower to overcome the myriad of strange feelings billowing up against her will deep in her belly and vagina, but then, gasping, she felt the hem of her dress reach the top of her thighs and a cool rush of mountain lake air suddenly came in contact with the searing heat of her soft, naked flesh. A ravishing shock rippled along her white, bare legs as the second time that night Arnold Hutter slipped a finger under the tight elastic of her thin panties. She squirmed against him, but he wasn't to be denied, not this time, and she chokingly held her breath helplessly as he inserted a fingertip in the narrow, sensitive slit of her pussy, slowly thrusting into it, parting her soft blonde pubic hair and once more making delicious contact with the throbbing head of her clitoris.
Oh God! There was nothing the silently sobbing Karen could do as she held back a groan of unwanted pleasure which rose from deep in her chest, and to her horror, she found herself as before, reacting to the fantastic desire his caresses of her breast and vagina gave her. She was excessively wet between her trembling white thighs and her hips jerked in unintentional rhythm to' the teasing of her clitoris and pink, moist, hungrily demanding cunt.
Weakly she rolled her head back and forth in limp protest, and then he forced her to kneel down on all fours in front of him on the floor, still in such a position so that she could watch her mother suck the large man's brutish penis sawing in and out of her mouth, and unable to fight her raging emotions any longer, Karen allowed the boy behind her to slide her wet panties over the full ripeness of her voluptuous thighs, exposing to his lustful gaze the full beauty of her white, quivering buttocks and the crevice dividing them with its soft pubic-hair covering that only partially concealed the now swollen, aching lips of her virginal pussy.
"Oh, God, please, Arnold. Let me up ... no boy's ever put his thing inside me before. Nobody! "
"There's got to be a first time for everything, honey," Arnold hissed in uncontrolled passion. "See? See there on the bed? Your mother knows all about fucking. She knows what to do with a real man's cock!"
Karen gaped, her attention rivited momentarily on her mother and the evil Ellery Quinn as in a blood-filled moment of panic, she was certain she and Arnold had been heard. But Arnold knew that wasn't what was taking place, and as she watched in captivation, Karen saw what he meant, for her mother and the man were moving around on the bed, the man sinking down on her mother, hand between them, and then she saw her mother, gasp and lurch, and the thick, fleshy column of his cock slid upwards so that the underside of its shaft, wet and glistening, was visible to the hypnotised young girl. Her mouth dropped open as she watched her mother's legs come up and wrap tightly around Quinn's hips, her heels pulling against the cheeks of his buttocks to pull him farther in, the cords on the inside of her thighs flexing as she ground her hungering soft-haired pussy up over his cock, still wetly glistening from the saliva of her mouth. A wet vicious sound drifted out to Karen's shocked ears as her mother's open cunt slithered wetly up the man's smooth, hardened rod, and her heaving thighs and b u t t o c k s began a rhythmic tempo, his soft, hairy balls slapping in time against her faintly puckered anus.
"See that?" Arnold taunted, loosening his own pants, his urge to fuck the little girl beyond all rational control. "See that? She's got her long legs wide open so Ellery can fuck that cunt of your mother's right up to her belly!"
"Ohhhh, Dear God," mewled the abjectly delirious girl. She had seen Hutter slide his pants down from the corner of her eye; saw his thick, hard prick in his hand, like before; then felt him force his way between her legs behind her, spreading her buttocks unmercifully as he guided his penis forward, the thick rubbery head of his cock parting the full fleshy lips of her expectantly quivering little cunt. She groaned as the first hard pressure against the tight elastic opening of her vaginal lips made her recoil in terror, petrified into utter subjugation by the unwanted, involuntarily flowing, heat of her sensitive little vagina.
He pushed.
"Aggg!" she cried out as the tip slipped through, stretching cruelly her resillient passage until she felt as if her thighs were splitting wide apart from the almost unbearable pressure. "Agggg!"
"Shut up, baby!" Arnold blurted in a soft voice. "Christ, they'll hear us if you shout like that! "
"It hurts, it hurts," she murmured pityingly.
She and Arnold froze in their lewd, depraved position, for suddenly Ellery Quinn rose up on his arms and frowned. "You hear something, Janice?" he asked, holding Karen's mother tightly to him by the long shaft of his cock.
"No," Janice sobbed, "no, but I don't care. Not now, not after all this. Finish me, you bastard," she gasped, arching up. "You wanted me so damned bad, well, take me. Fuck me, Ellery, fuck me in my cunt ... Oh God, that's it, that's right ... Ohhhhh, you feel so good inside me ... oooohhhh... ."
Arnold Hutter, seeing the danger pass, drove heavily into the once undefiled cunt of young Karen Cartwright, spearing her without tenderness or regard, ripping away her hymen as if it were a tissue of nothingness, his plunging cock sliding into her cuntal passage with a roaring fury, pushing the soft, moist flesh of her vaginal walls in pulsing waves before it. There was no stopping him, until with a mighty slap of his testicles against the underside of her upraised vagina, he buried his white hot pole deep inside her, up to its hilt. He lay unmoving for a moment, his face contorted in a grimace of sheer, raw victory at the debauching sight of her helpless and utterly exposed beneath him, with the entire length of his young penis sunk lewdly in the tight, wet sheath of her widestretched pussy.
Karen felt an agony like an explosion of dynamite in her belly, her soft, sensitive flesh one mass of living fire from his attack, and she was shocked insensate, unable to stir for fear of the pain it would cause. Silence, save for the moanings on the bed and Karen's labored breathing, hung in the cabin for a long moment, and then the boy flexed his virile cock inside, and the length and breadth of her penetrated vagina jerked with shooting torture.
"Nnnnnggg!" she moaned through clenched teeth, and then Arnold began a slow rocking motion between her thighs, and she spread her legs in an uncontrollable effort to relieve some of the agony, flexing and unflexing her inner thighs and buttocks as he slid in the moist wet hole of her invaded cunt. She wriggled and undulated, hoping to find some way of withstanding the screaming pain lancing up from the shattered remains of her virginity, wondering through the haze of her anguish how her mother could want any man to do what Arnold Hutter was doing to her. But as Arnold sawed with his long, burgeoning penis in and out of her widestretched vagina, little by little the original pain subsided, and in its place came lewd flames of desire, and without realizing it at first, Karen burst out in a warm sweat and her body twisted and writhed, bucking against his loins as if demanding more of his cock, more and longer strokes.
Arnold complied feverishly, moving above her and cupping each buttock with his hands, and he drew his cock nearly out of the teenager's clasping pussy on the b a c k s t r o k e only to plunge forward again into her uplifted buttocks until she felt his balls slap harshly against the exposed pink flesh of her cuntal valley. She closed her eyes, slavering her tongue around her lips, low hums of velvety pleasure emitting from her throat as fervently she began to understand the magic of sexual response. There was no longer the slightest thought of resistance, and she surrendered her soul and mind to the delicious sensation of lying before this boy who was fucking her against her will and giving back to him what he was giving her.
Glassy eyed, she raised her head, drawn by the similarity between her and her mother, for both she and her mother were being fucked at the same time, fucked by brutish men who neither had seen before this day, fucked good and loving it, wanting it ... and as if inately res p o n d i n g to her daughter, Janice squirmed lewdly on the bed in her throes of passion beneath Ellery Quinn. Karen's own enrapturement from Hutter's penis pumping madly into her upturned vagina was heightened as she watched completely absorbed as her mother spread her legs wider and higher and the man's hand curled beneath her pumping buttocks and the tip of his middle finger tantalizingly circled the puckered ring of her anus. It played there for a long, teasing moment, then suddenly brought a tortured wail from Mrs. Cartwright as it slipped through the protective fleshy sphincter ring and disappeared inside, just as Arnold's cock had burst through Karen's maidenhood. Legs kicking, toes curling, Janice tormentedly squealed, and then suddenly, with a sigh of contentment as the pain eased, she locked her legs up behind his back once more, pumping viciously against both probing instruments ...
Karen's vagina seemed to gape in greedy response, swallowing the whole of the boy's penis that was plunging mercilessly to her very core, and he quickened his thrustings, hot and pulsating and deep, and the torturing agony made her thrash, opening the plane of her crotch still wider to the pile-driving pounding of his loins. She was vaguely aware of his hands running over her like searing tendrils of fire, his body hot friction against hers as he swarmed over her raised, widespread buttocks. This was it! This was it! This was what she'd been denying herself, and why? It was so good ... how could anything this wonderful be bad? It was too good..."
"Oh God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me Arnold," she chanted under her gasping breath. "Harder! Harder! "
She panted and writhed, then heard him suck in his breath just as a long, gutter wail came bursting from the grimacing lips of the man on top of her mother. She saw Quinn shudder and quicken his pumpings, jerking his loins as her mother mewled and cried out; behind her, Arnold's cock, like a huge unrelenting animal, suddenly expanded and a wetness hurtled into the depths of her womb, filling her with something that made her want to scream and shout with delirious joy, a raging and hurtling of a thick, heavy body which she knew was his cum, the white, sticky seed which she'd foolishly made him spill between her thighs earlier that evening. It was a dream ... a heavenly nightmare! Oh, it was beautiful!
Then came that scream she had so ardently swallowed, but not from her lips did it erupt, but from her mother's - and clenching her eyes shut, the teenager Karen dropped all of her fears of being discovered and joined in her mother's wild shout of climax as wave after wave of her own orgasm flooded her mind of all else.
And even as she jerked and bucked against the wildly fucking boy, she felt his cock still pumping out his hot, thick sperm, and her quivering vaginal walls soaked up his juices in a mingling with her own secretions that she never dreamed could possibly exist. At last her legs grew limp, and she started to slide to the floor, her heart pounding in her chest as though it would burst. Her body was beaten, bruised, and satiated; and then temporarily the sense of shame and humiliation returned as she remembered who she was and that she'd been fucked and no longer could claim to belong to the select few known as virgins. Tears flowed from her eyes to stain her cheeks as she looked up, but as she did, her inner torment was replaced by something else, something far worse.
Fear.
In terror, Karen Cartwright looked directly into the bedroom, and there, sitting up with her thighs bent in such a way as to show her soft black pubic hair still glistening between her legs with the surging cum of Ellery Quinn, was her mother. And her mother, with eyes as wide as saucers, was staring straight back at her.
"Karen "Mother!"
Chapter 7
Karen Cartwright's cry of orgasm, as loud and tremulous as it was, didn't pass by her mother's satiated brain, even though her own spiraling climax shot through her like a speeding train. The mother was unaware for a split second who had joined her in the lewd climax of her cumming, and she pivoted under the still surging loins of Ellery Quinn to raise up and see who it was. Her mind was shattered with fright at the idea of being caught in lewd adultery like this, and shaking the vestiges of her satiation from herself as she thought wildly of how to escape.
Then, with terrifying clarity, Janice saw her daughter.
Karen! She had been discovered by Karen! Oh God, this was the worst thing imaginable, to be seen like this by her innocent then Janice Cartwright's emotions tumbled drastically as she saw her daughter as she was, not standing in gaping-eyed horror at her mother's indiscretions and ready to bolt in tear-filled wretchedness, but as her beloved Karen really was! On her all-fours like a bitch in heat in the doorway of the bedroom, writhing in some lascivious sexual dance macabre!
"Karen!" the mother screamed, comprehending in sheer torment and agony the whole incredibly filthy scene, for as Karen looked up in a mirrored expression of her own horror and cried out Mother! Janice also saw Arnold Hutter move back on his haunches and slide his long, reddened and glistening penis out of the still undulating buttocks of her daughter. In one blinding flash, Janice realized that her daughter - her innocent, virginal teen-age offspringwas no longer innocent and virginal, but had been watching and allowing the boy to fuck her from behind as she did. She stared at Karen's rumpled skirt, her ivory white thighs and buttocks which were quivering with her spent passion, heard the final, unstoppable mewlings of desire bubble from her tender, swollen young lips, and Janice Cartwright thought the earth would open up and send them all to the hell they so richly deserved.
Yet s o m e h o w she managed to gasp out, "Karen, Karen ... why?"
Karen, b e a t e n and in abject humiliation, slowly tottered to her feet.. She couldn't reply, for the shock of seeing her own mother being fucked to crazed, screaming orgasm by this stranger named Ellery Quinn, coupled with her own loss of her virginity, was too much for her dazed, benumbed senses to handle. The only burning thought in her reeling mind was to flee this cabin, to run and run and never to return, for although she had caught her mother in the act of adultery, she knew that it hadn't given her the right to do what she had done with Arnie. She whirled around, tears of self-abasement streaming in a torrent down her cheeks, and if it hadn't been for the strong arms of Hutter restraining her, she would have fled out the door.
"Not so fast, baby," snickered the young boy. "The evening's still not over." He turned to grin evilly at Quinn. "Right, Ellery?"
Quinn, watching all of this with eyes like burning coals rubbed his moist, naked flanks and rubbed a tongue around his lips as he heard Hutter speak. That boy was really on the ball, Quinn thought, and in a hoarse, trembling raucousness, he said, "Right, Arnold." Then in a cynical taunting manner, he asked, "Do you or Karen know about the pictures I took today?"
"She don't, I don't think. And I didn't know about them until I stopped by your place."
"Wh-what pictures?" Karen moaned. "Whwhat are you talking about?" She was motion less for a moment, indecisive and quizzical.
"My darling, my darling child," moaned her defeated mother, hiding her face in her hands and weeping, her shimmering coal-black hair covering her shuddering face. "No, Ellery, I did what you wanted. Leave her out of this, I beg of you. Please, don't - don't tell her!"
But Quinn only laughed low and ugly. "Your daughter's in the photos, isn't she? Hell, she has a right to know about them," and then he continued his corrupt and salacious words by adding: "Yeah, and Arnold's right, the evening has just begun. Since she's in them, this sweet little Karen ought to help you earn them back."
"Oh, Lord, no," groaned Janice, and sunk defeatedly to the bed.
"What p i c t u r e s?" Karen demanded, wriggling in the emprisoning grasp of Hutter's embrace. "And let me go, let me go!"
Hutter gripped her tighter, and hissed in her ear, "Not by a long shot, bitch. Now listen to me, Karen. Ellery's got pictures of you and your mother in the nude - "
"Naked!" The horrified girl recoiled as if Hutter was a snake.
"All pussy and tits, Karen. Taken today, from a hole in the green fence. But what the hell, you ain't the only ones he's done that to. You ought to see his collection."
"And the prints I make of them to sell," the corrupt and depraved older man sneered lustily. "Like I told your mother, Karen, if you don't co operate, you don't get the pictures back. Hell, this is a little extra dividend, mother and daughter together, but I'm all for taking what's offered. I couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried. So, you better decide to do what Arnold and I want, unless you want your father and all his friends to see you two in full-color, and some of them are pretty damned hot. Like the ones where your mother - "
"Ellery!" Janice gasped, "no, don't tell her that!"
"Shut up, you slut!" Quinn spat, and gripped Janice's quivering arm in a talon-like hold, glaring menacingly at her. Then he snickered gleefully. "Like the ones where your mother was fingering her luscious pussy after you left. Fingering it and rubbing her pink cunt until she came all by herself, right out there on the porch! "
"Mother!" Karen's jaw dropped, stunned by the revelation.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." Janice moaned, the final point of no return having been reached, bitterly grieving at this shattering confrontation. Her mind spun dizzily at the thought that no more could she take her baby girl in her lap and cuddle her with warmth, security, and motherly advice.
"Your lovely mother's naked and now I want you to strip, my little tender child," Quinn breathed hoarsly at Karen. "Let me see that sweet little pussy of yours which is still warm and moist from Arnold's hot cock."
Janice moaned the tortures of the damned, and tears burst from her eyes as she looked at her trembling daughter standing defiantly before the lusting, incredibly repulsive pair of beasts. "God forgive me," she mewled abjectly, "God forgive us both, Karen darling."
"Hurry up," Hutter commanded, releasing Karen's body so he could strip off his own remaining clothes. "Hurry up and do as Ellery wants, or by God, I'll rip that dress off of you."
"Yes," Karen said in a tone of low, even resentment. "Yes, I'll do it." She started unzipping her jumper with unsteady but determined hands. "We have no choice, Mother. It would ruin you and father if we didn't get those pictures back, and I'll go through with it no matter what." She stepped out of the jumper and stood in full splendor, with only her thin white bra covering her otherwise naked young body, and tried not to react when Quinn gasped at the salaciously enticing sight of her lithe legs and thighs, her sparse blonde pubic hair matted with the juices of Arnie's recent ejaculation. "Don't worry, Mother, because I'm no better than you, not now, not after I let Arnold do it to me while I watched you on the bed. And ... and I liked it, Mother, I really did."
"Damned right you did," Hutter breathed harshly, and he fingered the once-again acing sac of his testicles, already feeling lewd, prurient desires r e k i n d I i n g his lust-hardening penis. "And for a starter, I want to see you and your mother play with each other."
Janice gasped suddenly in horror and revulsion at the incredibly sick demand. This young boy was demanding lesbianism, a terrible perversion by itself, but worse, he was demanding it with Karen, her own daughter! She just couldn't do such a perverted act! She regarded Karen with agonized eyes as Karen came slowly forward to crawl on the bed beside her, face lined with sweat; she swallowed heavily as she studied her lovely daughter's quivering, hardening breasts and pink rosettes and chip-like nipples, and then down lower, to the now experienced hair-lined lips of her vagina and the dainty pink clitoris nestling sweetly in the trembling, fleshy folds. "Karen, my Karen," she mewled in undisguised misery.
"Take me in your arms, Mother," Karen said softly. "Take me and love me, for I would rather have you make love to me than one of them ... ." She sunk to the bed, spreading out to lie alongside Janice.
Janice stared into the other's pain-flecked eyes, and the mother knew instinctively that she and her child were both the same, having committed sins of the flesh, and were now enslaved in their own web of physical weakness. The immoral ties bound them in mute bonds of sympathy and love, and somehow that helped blank out the hoarse urgings of the lewdly naked men as they hotly eyed the two exposed women; things somehow seemed a little less terrifying if together, and perhaps together she and Karen could fight off the effects of this insane night of ravishment and sexual debauchery.
Slowly Karen pressed the soft, young, curling fleece of her golden pubic hair into her mother's loins, arching her back, and then she kissed her mother fully on the lips but not as she always had kissed her, but as she had always secretly wanted to, as a lover, the way she had kissed Arnold earlier that same evening. Janice stiffened, painfully aware that her daughter was kissing her with agile, pliant, yet demanding lips, but resolving that if Karen could go through with it for her sake, then she would have to as well. She fluttered her tongue out, entering the moist hot mouth, pressed to hers as she had so many times when Jackson had kissed her, and when Karen's lips ground back hotly in answer, she sucked the girl's pink-tipped moist tongue deeper into her mouth. Then she felt the first tentative touchings by her child on her skin, and a hot, electric shock rippled over her, for Karen's fingers were so much softer and lighter than a man's thicker, tougher hands; Janice melted with the love she had for her and allowed the swiftly moving tongue and familiar hands to send out their urgent, teasing messages along her body, her breasts and nipples, and hesitatingly, she let her own fingers rub along her daughter's satin smooth buttocks as Karen trembled with strange forbidden ex- citement. The mother and daughter couldn't help but squirm excitedly on the bed, locked in their lewd, perverted embrace, and when Karen's tender, pink-ridged anus parted inadvertently, the girl moaned low in her throat when her mother touched the tiny puckered little hole.
"Yeah! More! More!" Quinn panted crazily. "Hutter, you sonofabitch, what an idea, teaming this mother-daughter pair together! Jesus! More! "
Spurred on by Quinn's lewd and salacious demands, Janice and Karen Cartwright rubbed and caressed each other's turgid breasts until the globes of throbbing flesh were swollen with unwanted sensations and the puckered nipples were distended and biting the other's tormented body. Janice felt Karen's fevered breath on her face and her mind cried out in futile rejection, but then her hands once more were moving of their own volition, down over her daughter's hot, anguished little belly, down to the wet, parting lips of her blonde-haired vaginal mound.
Karen tensed her small, quivering body as her mother's fingers sought out her pink, palpatating slit, moaned with the lancing and undeniably exciting pleasure from the spasming contact, and in reply, she extended her middle finger and located her mother's hard, throbbing clitoris and tweaked it, rubbing it around and sliding her other fingers up and down the wet valley of moistly open cunt, her mind a revolv ing whirlwind of thoughts, of dreams of herself masturbating and her mother beside her, fingering herself too, the way Hutter had said her mother had done on the porch ... .
Hutter drooled uncontrollably as he watched the mutually subjegated mother and daughter now voluntarily fondle each other's genitals, and he glanced over at Quinn, whose thick, hirsute body was sprawled beside the women as he reveled in the lewd display, his blood-sated, pulsing cock rigid, his hand stroking it lightly. "God, Ellery, I can't stand to wait! Get them to suck each other off now!"
"Sure, A r n o l d, sure," Quinn panted obscenely. "You heard him, Janice. Get upside down on top of her and lick your daughter's little cunt."
"Nooo!" Janice howled. in piteous protest, but her cry was cut by Quinn to a strangled sob. "You fucking slut!" the man snarled, "you will! Do what I tell you or I'll never give you those pictures! Now start sucking Karen's pussy, you hear?"
A tortured gasp burst from the mother's throat, but she rolled over and got on her hands and knees and straddled her daughter's desirecontorted face, her own face just above the softly curling strands of her pubic hair. Her head dipped forward and her hot breath blew like searing flame down into the deep, coral-pink well of Karen's vagina, and then her tongue snaked out and she heard a muffled intake of air from Karen as she felt the tingling contact of the blonde-haired girl's fiery wet cunt lips against her mouth. After a quick shudder, Janice burrowed deeper, licking molten wet paths from the tip of Karen's impassionedly quivering clitoris down through the soft moistness of her curling pubic hair, to the pulsating orifice of her hungry little vagina, plunging with a hopeless dispair at being unable to avoid the calamatous act of burying her face in the furrow of her child's soft, gently pulsating cunt.
"And you, Karen, you start sucking your mother," Arnie croaked, lust-drenched in his debauched role of tormentor. "Lift your face up and lick your mother's pussy, just like she's licking yours."
Karen stared up at her mother's vagina and the enticing pink flesh which was honey-dewed with droplets of moisture, and she breathed the musky perfume, then tongued teasingly the rich folds of flesh, hearing her mother groan and her buttocks squash back against her face unintentionally, her ivory body quivering from the grazing tickle of her daughter's mouth and lips. Karen kept telling herself that this was disgusting, and a ripple of terror and shame made her tighten her inner thighs against her mother's tongue momentarily, but the lascivious delights racing through her blood from her vagina couldn't be denied. Her mother kissing her did feel good, and she began to pant explosively from the salacious and unwelcome passions which were flowing in her convulsed loins, then to her horror, she found that she received still more stimulation by returning the liquid caresses, and unable to stop herself, the girl lashed out everywhere, her pink, wet tongue invading her mother's pussy frantically.
Janice twisted in the grip of her daughter's increasingly voracious mouthings, writhing as Karen refused to stop, wretchedly aware that she herself was unable to break the open nibbling mouth which was gluing itself to her insanely responding cunt. In a strangled mixture of a sob and a sigh, the mother heaved with the ambivalent emotions of wanting yet not wanting her daughter to stop, and as if of a body separate, her thighs widened and she pressed her loins downward, allowing Karen fuller access to her burning cunt, tangling her lips and mouth in her daughter's richly wet pink pussy below.
"Ohhhh, man, I've got to fuck one of them," Arnold moaned, rolling back and forth as if in great pain. "I gotta! I gotta! I can't stand just watching any more!"
Quinn, eyes flashing beacons of perversion, chuckled lasciviously. "Take the mother, then. Take her any way you want - because I want a little of her sweet young daughter's hot little cunt!"
"Ohhhh, man, yes!" Arnold intoned frantically. He came around to where the smoothly rounded buttocks of Mrs. Cartwright waved and undulated tormentedly above her blonde teenage daughter's hungrily teasing mouth, and after a moment of indecision, spurred on by the electric thrill of the lewd sight before him, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to fuck the mother in the ass! Yes, right in that exposed little rosebud of an anus, while her daughter still licked her cunt from below! He cried out in heaving, uncontrollable passion: "Karen! Lick her rectum! Lick your mother's asshole now! "
Moaning undefiably, Janice couldn't tell which, her daughter raised her head and began to tongue the tender, slightly clenching opening, bringing dartings of acute tinglings shooting through her, which Janice, in spite her sudden abhorrence, couldn't ignore. The idea of a girl, any girl, doing this strange perversion to her was degrading, but the knowledge that it wasn't just any girl but her own flesh-andblood made Karen's teasing of her buttocks and anal opening totally abhorrent ... but ohhhhh, did it feel wonderful, so wonderful ... and Janice slipped downward still more so that her daughter had still greater access to the tiny, excitedly pulsating hole.
"Kneel up, Mrs. Cartwright!" the young boy commanded crudely, eager for this perverted testing of her shaking body. She hesitated, then lifted her buttocks higher, away from Karen's warmly sucking mouth, but her daughter's lips followed and were once more locked tightly on her naked, fleshy slit; in a surge of responsiveness she doubled her own fevered task in licking the delicious tasting cunt before her mouth, new salacious thrills coursing through her body as she kissed Karen's smooth, creamy thighs and bit her tingling pink flesh with small, sharp nips, feeling her daughter eagerly splay her legs wider so she could lick the crevice between them. Then, she sensed a sudden strain on her anus as the young boy pressed the skin around it outwards with his thumbs, and though she felt obscenely naked with him hovering behind her defenseless little anal hole, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any longer to her!
Then, Janice Cartwright felt an alien finger probing the puckered inlet which her daughter had so beautifully kissed and moistened with her lips a moment before. The finger prodded, making her wince and jerk forward slightly as Hutter burrowed at her anus, and then suddenly his fingertip slipped lewdly inside, not hurting her as she'd anticipated, but rather sending a new and strange sensation of surprised pleasure through her. Hutter moved his finger gleefully around in the tight but expanding hole, moving it in and out, widening her tiny rectum. And, in spite of her shame of being subjected to the lewd perversion, she found herself wiggling her hips back against it, her mouth digging into her daughter's pussy harder, as excitedly she responded to the strangely appealing subjugation sweeping over her as the boy deliberately stretched her now unresisting back passage wider and wider.
"I ain't ever fucked a woman in the ass before," Hutter groaned. "Ohhhh, I've never had the chance before, but this is it!"
"Ohhhh," Janice mewled back in an echo, still slavering in the churning pink cunt between her daughter's wetly oscillating thighs. She felt him remove his finger, the rubbery skin of her anus clinging to it and making an obscene hissing noise as it popped out. She quivered, drawing her knees wider apart and up, so that she could present him with the fully stretched moons of her buttocks, and she felt his hot, hairy body move in between her thighs, and a shiver of lewd anticipation surged through her. Then the blunt head of his hard cock rested menacingly in the wide split crevice of her upturned backside, and she held her breath as he clutched the top of her thighs and placed his excitedly throbbing penis against the tight, hairless little opening so lewdly displayed to his bulging eyes. She felt him begin to prod and realized in that instant that his cock was too big! It was way too big, and her dreamy state of arousal was shattered as the boy's pulsing weapon strained against her virginal asshole, suddenly bursting through her vainly resisting spinchter and popping into her rectum.
"Oh dear God! Stop! It hurts! It hurts!" the mother cried out, trying to pull away from him, but unable to. "Ohhh, stop!"
But Hutter only ignored her pleas, grinding mercilessly forward as he hugged her hips in his savage attack, and he growled: "Christ! Two virgins in the same night! A virgin cunt and a virgin asshole! I must be dreaming! Shove back, Mrs. Cartwright, shove back just like your daughter did when I popped her cherry!" And maniacally, he began to laugh.
Janice could hardly think, for every way was pain and more pain. "Aggggg," she groaned as his pelvis smacked hard against the softness of her white buttocks and his huge prick surged into the spongy, resilient flesh of her rectum, and she heard his laughter change to a harsh whine of passion as the boy began to fuck rhythmically, deep into the soft confines of her upturned anal passage. By degrees the pain lessened and a certain stimulation began to blend with the slavering caresses her daughter was still ministering on her pussy below, the magic touch of the young girl's tongue and lips on her wetly quivering cuntal channel and clitoris driving her wild. It can't be ... It can't be she groaned to herself over and over, her head flaying in open humiliation in Karen's steamingly hungry cunt, and she tongued her daughter's pussy from side to side and up and down, spearing in and out of the involuntarily clasping lips of the teenager's hotly pulsating pussy. In spite of the young mother's terror and revulsion at the horrible things being done to her de fenseless genitals, forbidden excitement purled deep down in her quaking belly, and her firm, round breasts jiggled sensuously from the buffeting her lower backsides were undergoing.
Sweat poured off of the face of Ellery Quinn as he watched the pink flesh of Mrs. Cartwright's rounded little anal hole draw back with Hutter's penis, her anal ring clasping his sawing cock greedily as if to keep it from escaping. He stared in sadistic delight as his young friend's balls smacked resoundingly against the woman's daughter's nose below, each time Arnold sunk his prick to the hilt in her wide-split crevice and then draw it out almost to its tip, her flesh puckered around it. And below, whining in ecstasy, her eyes wide to catch each second of the long, smooth stroking of the lustthrobbing cock in and out of her mother's tight, elastic rectum, Karen sucked and licked the tender black-haired slit of her mother's pinkfleshed vagina like a crazed child, her beautiful face flushed and her breath coming in pants like an animal in heat as she threw her loins deeper into her mother's face, to get more of the wonderful tongue assaulting her own throbbing cunt, undulating her buttocks in maddening, circling motion.
Yes ... yes, mother dear, I Love you ... I love your pussy, I Love kissing your cunt where a man's cock went in and I came out ... . Karen nuzzled the soft, sweet-smelling flesh, returning her mother's liquid embraces on her own va gina by running her tongue from the base of Hutter's ramming cock, down around his testicles, then taunting the half-inch of exposed penis not yet swallowed by her mother's pulsating, open rectal passage, finally downward again to suck her inner lips and clitoris, delighting in the abandonment of her body to such lewd, carnal desires.
"Ohhhh, Jesus! Shit, that kid's licking me as well!" Arnold Hutter blurted, and Ellery Quinn was spurred on by the absolutely lustblinding enhancement of Karen tonguing the boy's prick and testicles as she continued to suck her mother's cunt. Violent spasms surged through his loins as he peered with wide, sexcrazed eyes at the girl pressing her flowering vagina wetly against Janice's wildly sucking tongue, his unsated passions building and building until he could hardly breathe without ejaculating on the bed.
"You ... you want a little cock, Karen?" Quinn hissed in his ecstasy. "You want a little more in that pussy of yours than your mother's kisses?"
"Ohhhhhhhh," the girl writhed in piteous abandonment, for at that moment she was too delerious to know what she wanted beyond the unquenchable desire for more ... more ... more... .
"Then stop sucking your mother and come here, precious child. Come here and suck my cock ... and then I'll fuck the living hell out of your tender young pussy - cunt, so lovely and wet and ready."
Karen Cartwright shuddered with the abominable thought, but then she wriggled expectantly, for that was Ellery Quinn's cock! ... the cock her mother had sucked so voraciously once tonight! ... now she would suck it, suck it like her mother had ... ohhhh,h,... . She twisted around, leaving her mother's wonderfully soft, warm pussy, but then, rearranging herself by sliding under the kneeling woman up into a sprawled sitting position, legs wide and thighs parted and buttocks poised directly in front of her mother's lust-contorted face. She leaned back, propping herself up by her arms, her young, taut breasts with their hard, distended nipples quivering as they stood proudly out from her chest. "Kiss me more, mother," she g r o a n e d. "I want you to kiss my pussy more ... ."
Janice looked at her daughter wild-eyed for an instant. Karen wanted her to kiss her, wanted her to make love to her with all of the Sapphoic skills of two women together ... her own daughter was more than complying to the lewd, depraved demandings of the two evil men, but actually desiring to have her mother put her mouth and lips and tongue deep, deep in her young pussy! A fevered shaking overtook Janice, but then as her mind was filling with the horrible pleasure billowing from her tortuously impaled rectum, she was forced to admit that she had liked having her daughter in her arms that way - that gripping the tender white flesh of the girl, kissing her white thighs and trembling vagina had given her tremendous pleasure, and that she had secretly reveled in the physical joys Karen had given her own pussy. She sensed an odd wetness in her cunt as her mind surfaced these weird confessions, and she realized that this night, of all nights, she could not saddle herself or her daughter with false guilts or hatreds manifested by social conformity. Tonight she had to be totally honest with herself and her daughter, and in that blinding flash of self-truth, Janice Cartwright found her belly churning with desire, and a tremendous wave of love and devotion swept over her, inundating all other emotions.
"Oh yes, yes, Karen, darling, I want to kiss your belly, your breasts, your pussy. I want to ... I think perhaps I always secretly wanted to." And with those shocking words spoken, she lowered her head to the fragrant young hair-covered vagina, and salaciously sucked the wetly engorged pink lips and widened slit offered up to her, wallowing lewdly in the pleasure of her debasing confession, happily entering into an incestual relationship for the first time, no longer fighting her inability to prevent her wild, passion-mad body from demanding its fulfillment.
Karen's eyes fluttered to Ellery Quinn, and she saw through her satiated gaze the great girth of his swollen cock sway back and forth before her mouth, just as it had earlier in front of Mother's lips. Her tongue voluntarily snaked out and tasted for the first time the bittersweet flavor of male secretion and flesh; with a groan of sheer beastial lust, Quinn jerked forward, and Karen's mouth parted and she accepted the lewd offering of his cock, guiding it inside her mouth with one stroking hand on its base, beginning to suck him, suck him as she'd seen her mother suck him, running her tongue wetly around his slippery cockhead, easing the tip of her hot probe into the open slit of his glans. Her head pumped abandonedly to and fro, slavishly taking every inch of his thick shaft, sucking harder and harder, her tongue twirling faster and faster, and as Quinn's buttocks began to flex forward and add their own movements to her pistoning head, her mouth and his cock were fucking together like a well-buttered machine. Karen continued to respond with heaving thighs and loins to her mother's honey-like sucklings, shattered shafts of undiluted pleasure crashing through her belly and stomach and breasts like shrapnel, and the seminally slick shaft battering against the back of her mouth made her react with fervid and abandoned lust, her subtlely tender body a sex-crazed joy ride of maddened abandonment.
The throbbing pulses of her daughter, her once innocent darling girl, going stark raving mad the way she was made Janice lash out and lick and kiss Karen's sweet-flowing pussy with still more impestuousness. Hutter's cock sunk in her anus united with the thrashing wetness of her passionate mouth in a tempoed team of obscene delights, making the flesh between her tongue and her hotly clenching rectal passage melt and flow with tingling ambrosia. Outrageous defiliation surged through her boiling bloodstream, and her full, rounded hips which had once carried the child she was now kissing so lewdly and unashamedly commenced unanticipated gyrating motions in a lewd cadence with the increasing speed of the sodomistic penis fucking into her rectum. It seemed to Janice Cartwright that everywhere were the lusting pleasures she had so long denied herself, for her flesh was amassed with the stinging needles of her miraculous, indescribable elations.
So lost was she and the others, including her daughter, that they never realized in the billowing heat of their rising climaxes that the door to the cabin was opening and another man was entering ... .
Chapter 8
Jackson Trendell arrived in Stephen's Landing a little after eleven-thirty that night, having rashly driven at break-neck speeds with the uncaring recklessness of a drunken maniac. To recharge his courage, he'd stopped along the way at an all-night grocery store and bought two sixpacks of half-quart cans of beer; the balance of the trip had been strewn with the twelve cans, tossed negligently out the car window. By the time Trendell reached the small, vacation lake town, he was inebriated beyond reason, the roadway to him a blurring and weaving ribbon of black, illuminated briefly by yellow headlights in between rapid.blinkings of his dull eyes.
The more he drove and the more he drank, the more intense did the handsome, tanned man become. His lips were set in a grim thin line, and he hunched over the wheel with a determined frown on his craggy face, every muscle of his lean, virile body tensed. with the immediate job of keeping his old Plymouth on the road and the more important future reason of seeing his lover, his one true love, his Janice. Janice ... her name was like the carrot before the proverbial donkey, whipping Jackson Trendell along with the single-tracked attentiveness of a psychopathic lunatic. He veered into the one lonely service station, screeching to a halt before he sideswiped the front gasoline pumps, and the summer dust rose like a cloud of angry smoke from underneath his suddenly braked car, pluming up and over the Plymouth, inundating him momentarily.
The old, white-moustached man in the service station took his feet off the cold pot-bellied stove, put his "Righteous Raider" western story magazine down and slowly got to his creaking stance. Before he could get to the door of the small office, Trendell had burst in, nearly bowling him over.
"Where - where is she?" Trendell demanded, clutching the door.
"Where's who, sonny?" the man asked, taken off guard so much that he fell back in his chair. "Nobody's here but me."
"Janice, Janice Cartwright, you fool!" Then Trendell put his hands to his head and shook hirpself, remembering through his stupored fog where he was and what he wanted. "No ... no, I'm sorry," he groaned. "Had a few on the way, and ... and I'm a little drunk, I'm afraid."
"On the way where, sonny? Or you want gas, is that it?"
"No, no gas, pal," Trendell said. "I want to know where a woman and her daughter are staying up here."
"Heh-heh," the old-timer chuckled warmly, settling himself again. "Lots o' women and kin up here at the lake, sonny. What's their name? I've been here nie on forty years in Stephen's Landing, so I knows them all."
"Cartwright, I told you!" Trendell exploded in an alcoholic rage. "Damnit, Janice Cartwright ! How many times have I got to tell you, you old coot!"
"Calm down there, sonny. And m'name's Balshazar," the old man said, tightening his toothless jaw. "I can hardly understand you, your tongue's so thick. Now let me think. Cartwright ... Cartwright.... Nope," Balshazar said, shaking his head, "nope, no Cartwrights here."
"They've ... they've rented a cabin for a couple of weeks. I . .. I don't know which one, only that it's around the lake someplace."
Balshazar picked up his magazine and started to fan himself, his eyes turned upwards in reflective consideration. Trendell tried to hold his impatience in check, his loins aching with the urgency of his desire. Finally the old man turned to him and said, "Well now, if the woman's real pretty, and her daughter's blonde, I do recall a couple stopping here early this morning and='
"That's them! I know it is!" Trendell cut in breathlessly.
" - asking directions to 1224 Piney Wood Circle, which is where a lot of the summer cabins are up for rentals. I told them how to get there and they went their way, but I didn't catch no name."
"Where's, where's this cabin?"
"Well now, you take the first left and go down about a half mile, turn left again and follow that road that's Piney Wood Circle, see - and about where it comes into Sundown Court, you'll see a tall, A-frame set back in the trees a bit, with a green fiberglass fence running around its porch. That's it."
"Thanks, Bal ... Bal whatever it is."
"Balshazar, sonny. Balshazar Murphy. You can see m'name over the door, if f'n you want - " His words were lost in the slam of the old wooden office door. He peered over the maga zine and watched as Trendell stumbled to his car, lurching against the fender as he groped his way to the driver's door. "Huh," Balshazar Murphy muttered. "He's old enough to have some manners. Damned got a snort goin' to his eyeballs, he does, and seems like he's in a ter rible hurry. Well, no concern of mine, no case. Just hope he finds the. cabin and don't pester my old bones no more tonight." He glanced at the octagonal Seth-Thomas clock over his cluttered roll-top desk. "Only half-hour more and I can close up," he sighed, opening the western magazine to his place. "Damned fool, he's just heading for trouble in his condition ....
Jackson Trendell, uttering the simple directions over and over in his fevered, liquored mind, turned left on the first road, but was going so fast that he had to cram on the brakes and back up after he'd passed the second turn. Piney Wood Circle wound its way through the dark, tree-lined lane, and he had to slow down, itching at this extra waste of time impestuously. Janice ... Janice ... look for an A-frame with green fiberglas ... God, Janice, please be there, please ... .
Then he saw it, set back as the service station owner had said, and he knew it was the right one. Janice's car, a two-year-old Pontiac Firebird was in the driveway and all the lights were on in the house, their glow glittering oddly like fluorescent moss as it filtered through the tall, green paneling which ran around the extended porch. But ... but there was another car in the drive, a beat-up old Ford, raked and decked like a kid's hot-rod. What? Who? Puzzled, Trendell swerved off the narrow road onto the soft, needle-encrusted shoulder. She had visitors. Another man? No . .. no, Janice loved only him, he was sure of that. It couldn't be another man, not just like that. Her daughter? Perhaps, her daughter might be entertaining a boy around her own age, which would account for the Ford being the way it was ... yes, that was it . . it had to be....
Trendell got out of the car, swaying from the cool evening air again as he deeply breathed its cleanness, his head a whirling, hot carousel from the dizzying tumult of his mind being hit by the freshness and by his panting exertion. The alcohol and stimulation of his furious passions rendered his brain almost insensate to rational thought as he staggered up the driveway, his head and torso high and arched in his attempt to stay upright and look sober; the wide, shallow steps to the front door were narrow, wobbly ladders to him, his feet slipping, his hand clutching the railing, and then he was at the door, fumbling with the knob.
He stopped - -should he knock? Yes, that was the polite thing to do, but his hand wouldn't form in 'a fist properly or hit the wood door with more than a muted tap. He heard sounds from inside; Janice was there, Janice and her daughter ... but they wouldn't answer the door . .. and unable to control his longings a moment longer, ground to the very foundation of his emotions by the long drive and flood of beer, Jackson Trendell wrenched the knob and walked in the cabin, trying to put a hearty, devil-may-care smile on his lips.
Across the cabin was the bedroom, its door wide open. One look, one wild, blinding vision of what was going on in the bedroom on the wildly creaking bed, and Trendell dropped his smile like it was splinted glass. He stopped short, air surging from his lungs in shock, his whole body weaving from the carnal degeneracy which seemed to hit him like heat from a suddenlyopened blast furnace. He took a step backwards, stifling a cry of horror, his mind a complete shambles, unable to do more than stare at the lewd foursome in unblinking fascination, mumbling incoherently under his breath, engrossed with a stupefaction caused by the shock of what he was witnessing and the tide of alcohol pumping through his brain.
Oh Lord! That can't be ... the black-haired woman couldn't be his beloved Janice, his lovely, modest Janice! And the girl, that beautiful little nymph with her golden hair and young, firm body couldn't be her daughter . : . no, not her innocent young daughter, Karen! But oh, Lord, they were, and Jackson gulped aloud, afraid of what he might do or say, and thanking God in the back of his tortured mind that he was fogged with enough liquor to anesthetize him to this for without the beer, he knew that to have hit this perversion cold would have sent him out of his mind forever!
Jackson's face grew a livid red from the heat of watching his woman being pummeled by a young boy, and not even in her cunt, either, but up her asshole! God Almighty, Janice was being brutally sodomized! and liking it! And there ... there in front of her was her own daughter, the girl Janice had sworn just a few days ago was a virgin, and she was sucking hungrily on another man's cock, not only swallowing it greedily but slavering with all her teenager's vigor as the cruel hard cock fucked crazily into her tiny, ovaling mouth! The child's eyes were glazed with a wild, ecstatic film of lust that sent a shiver through both her and her mother's bodies, and Janice was gyrating her own naked flesh back against the turgid, slick penis of the sadistically grinning boy behind her! And ... and Jackson couldn't see Janice's face, to see if she was as caught up in the sexual fury as her daughter was, because her face ... her face ... Good Christ!
As if it wasn't punishment enough for the unsuspecting lover, his mind finally allowed him to become cognizant of what Janice was doing with her mouth and lips and tongue. Goddammt ... goddamv ... she's sucking leer own daughter's cunt! Jackson stared incredulously at the sight of Janice's bobbing head almost completely absorbed by the writhing, undulating hips of Karen, her tongue twirling at her daughter's wetly matted pubic fleece and pink, widespread vaginal flesh, the edges of her pubic slit quivering as Janice clung greedily to them, nipping them, licking them, sliding her lips from the apex of the girl's throbbing clitoris to the tenderly peeking pink bud of her hairless anus. Trendell's whole head was splitting from the mind-shattering picture of orgy and incest, hearing the combined mewlings and groanings of the naked foursome in their prurient bliss. How goddamned naive he'd been! How utterly stupid he'd been again, just like he'd been the first time with that bitch of a wife, Samantha!
Jackson moaned to himself, a torrent of diffused, irrational, widespread emotions, as he continued to stare at the nightmarish debauch. Janice, the woman who'd been so modest and prudish with him - it had all been an act, he realized that now! She'd fucked others before him, probably hundreds of others by the way she was carrying on now ... and she had kept him from enjoying the fruits of her experience with some cockeyed bullshit about feeling guilty going out on her husband and having never done such things before because they made sex dirty. Dirty! He had never dreamed of such rampant abuses, much less suggested them to her, and she had been faking her puritanical behaviorthat was all too obvious to him as he watched her hungrily sucking at her daughter's cunt and getting ass-fucked from behind at the same time!
Trendell's mind reeled with insanity, and all he could think about was that Janice Cartwright had made a fool out of him, taken his love and affection and twisted around to make a mockery out of it, to scretly laugh at his good intentions and honestly given love. She was no better than Samantha! She was worse, for Samantha wouldn't have considered making love to a girl, a teen-age girl who was her own daughter! Janice was the absolute bottom of the pit, the one woman who was the worst possible person for him to have met and considered as his own. Seething with anguish, fuming with rage, wracked with torture and sickness of heat, Jackson Trendell found his already drunken eyes now blurred with tears. He had to punish Janice for this! He had to strike out and soothe the misery of his soul, and the only way he could, the only way he wanted to was by joining in the lewd rape of her body, to take her and extract his vengeance by fucking her, too just like the dirty gutter-whore she was!
He stripped with lightning speed, throwing his clothes every which-way in the living room, and then he ran into the bedroom, his cock jutting from him like an angry lance leading the way. Crazily, he clambered on the bed, and for a moment, his presence stopped everybody dead, for all that Quinn, Hutter, and Karen saw was a strange naked man, a leering grin on his open, bubbling mouth and a demoniacal contortion to his features. But Janice knew him, and when she looked up, her mouth and cheeks glistening wet, her voice echoed the terror and humiliation suddenly surging through her.
"Jackson!"
"That's right, bitch! Jackson!", And he began to laugh again hysterically. "I've come to join in! I've come to fuck you and ... yes, and your daughter, too! Ha-ha! How do you like that bag of apples, my innocent little Janice?"
Janice moaned in mortification at her lover seeing her like this, seeing her daughter like this, nakedly and shamelessly cavorting on the bed. She started to sob, and then choked out, "Yes, Jackson, yes, I deserve this. Fuck me, darling, fuck me good - but only remember that I love you, and I always will."
"Janice..." Jackson stared at her incredulously, not believing his ears. "But.this ... this, I don't understand!"
"Buddy, I don't know who you are," Quinn said, glaring at Trendell, "but all the time I was fucking this lovely woman, she kept calling me by your name. Jackson, Jackson," he mimicked, screwing up his face. "She wants you, Jackson, so what are ;you going to do about it? Are you with us or what?"
"Yes! Yes, of course I am," Trendell cried out, still not aware of what the exact situation was, but deliriously uncaring, for it was enough to know that Janice, his Janice really loved him. "God damn rights, I'm in this!" he crowed, and as he looked at Janice and the boy behind her, he realized that he was fantastically excited, that it didn't matter that his love was being sodomized and getting physical pleasure from another male; she was a woman, all woman, devoted to him but hotly passionate in her throes of sexually coupling, a writhing and twisting act as old as time itself. He felt his cock throbbing and aching with new intensity, his testicles swollen and angry and small droplets of cum oozed from the rubbery tip, wetting the blunt head and long, hard shaft. "Yes ... I want to fuck!"
"Not back here, you ain't, mister," Hutter snarled, and to show his dominancy over Mrs. Cartwright's lewdly naked backsides, he jerked his pulsing cock into her stretched, pink anal opening, making her grunt. "Ohhhhh," Janice mewled, the lickings of her insane lust-fire wrenching her flesh spasmodically from his surging rod. "Ohhhhh, God, that's nice!"
"Fuck me! Fuck me, Jackson," Karen panted, looking up into the bronzed man's deep eyes. "You love my mother, don't you? Well, love me, too! Love me in the cunt, just like you would mother!" She squirmed around so that she, like her mother, was on her hands and knees, her beautifully vibrant buttocks spread lewdly before him in a wanton dance of desire. "Fuck me hard, Jackson," she repeated, and then took the still rigid penis of Ellery Quinn back into her young, tender mouth, mewling contentedly as she began to suck him again.
Jackson groaned, unable to resist, and he slid to his knees behind Karen - directly in front of Janice - and fingered the flowering wet pussy Janice had been kissing so ardently. Then his prick made jolting contact with the satiny pubic flax covering Karen's slim folding of vaginal flesh, rubbing its moist pink smoothness up and down, touching her quivering clitoris under her, causing the teen-ager to jerk and undulate and moan passionately around the cock skewering into her tightly locked lips. Then Karen reached under her trembling young body with one slim hand and her fingers lovingly guided his thick shaft to the warm, moist flanges of her cuntal hole.
"Mmmmm," Karen sighed. Jackson has given mother his cock ... now he's giving it to me, and like my mother I'm receiving the joys of his love ....
Jackson felt the softness of the child's sparse curly pubic hair tease his aching cockhead as he entered her tight young cunt. The driving luridness which the scene had instigated had made him lose all sense of decorum, and unable to do more than accept and partake of this lewd ruttishness, he threw back his head and smiled at Janice behind him, then speared forward, ramming his jutting penis deep, deep up into her daughter's wet, fevered young vagina, convulsively reaching forward with his hands to clasp her tender buttocks and narrow waist and hold the girl tightly to him, a low, dragging moan of ecstasy erupting from his soul as he battered Karen with long, hard strokings in her wide, palpitating vagina.
Janice felt the pit of her belly hot and trembling as the savage brutality of Hutter's rapaciously pumping cock jerked in and out of her torturously stretched rectum, and with fogged eyes she gazed on the flexing buttocks of her lover with fondness and love, knowing that with each driving surge of Jackson's penis, he was breaking down the shackles that Hutter and Quinn had over them. It didn't matter what those evil maniacs wanted to do with the Pictures, because now she had Jackson and Karen for good, and they were the only two things, she now realized heatedly, which meant anything to her life. "We're together, Jackson ... oh, we're just like a family ... I love you ... I love you both so much ...." She knew she was babbling incoherently, that she was pouring forth the very foundations of her being and deepest meanings of her spirit and will, but at the same time the rolling tide of sensual delight was making her disembodied and free of all her artificially restraining bonds. Her natural instincts and honest appraisals which she'd tried to suppress for so long were now on top, and there was no more meaning to pretense, either to herself or to her loved ones. It was all out in the open, and she was soul-naked as well as physically naked.
And as if her daughter sensed the mother's release from torment, Karen turned her head slightly, just enough so that she and Janice could exchange a look - split-second glance which told all there was to tell. They knew one another for what they were, what they had always been, and what they would always go on to be, and the handsome and virile Jackson Trendell saw that look, smiled to them, and was emancipated along with them, understanding and accepting it all for what it was. Deliverance!
Now that the message had been passed between them, Janice sighed and let herself go, for now everything was going to be all right, and whatever they were doing now, whatever might happen in the future couldn't destroy the bond cementing the three of them. And Karen, Jackson, and the lovely wife and mother behind them were freed of their mental pressures and tensions and abandoned themselves totally to the enticing pleasures of their orgiastic revelry, striving pantingly for climax, the heat and rapture billowing in their bodies with intense headiness. They were all far too gone in their bliss, all of them including Arnold Hutter and Ellery Quinn, to notice the rotund, beady-eyed face pressed to the pane of glass at the bottom of the bedroom window, the old man's face which was flattened to the glass so that it resembled a kid's nose and cheeks buried to a candy-store display ....
* * *
Harlow Cartwright was livid over his foul luck. A flat tire, of all things, and the stupid idiot at the service station didn't want to fix it just because he was closing for the night. An idiot! and if he had been a swearing man, which no decent protector of morals was - Cartwright would have called the old fool far worse. He didn't know where he'd picked up the nail, but in a miserable one-horse flea-bag of a town like Stephen's Landing, it could have been in the main street as much as anywhere. Main street! The only street! And the only service station around was that lean-to shack run by Methusala himself, a tottering and feeble wheezer named Beezlebub - no, Balshazar Murphy, who should have had the public decency to go in some field and die ten years ago. And all the time talking about how the lake has been growing and new houses and new people all the time, as if he, Harlow, gave a fig about that.
Harlow was interested in only one thing, getting to the cabin he'd rented for his wife just as fast as possible, because midnight was a good time to catch her with her lover. Infuriated to apoplexy, Cartwright had left the service station after his tire had been repaired and drove to the cabin, his face ruddy with anger over the delay, but when he arrived, a smile peeled back his lips across his teeth, for he saw the old Plymouth along the roadway. Jackson Trendell was here! Cartwright gleefully thought to himself. But what about the Ford in the driveway, behind the Pontiac? Who else was here? Cartwright considered possibilities furiously, and concluded it would be the best to reconnoiter first, see exactly where the adulterous trollop he'd unwittingly married was wallowing in harlotry with that obscene panderer, Trendall. Where, yes; for when he entered with the shotgun, he didn't want them to have a chance, not one to somehow carry their shameless nakedness and perhaps escape the retributive justice he had condemned them to. And who, for in case Karen was there, or whoever owned the decrepit Ford, then he would have to postpone the execution, somehow stifle the impulse to strike out and wait impatiently until that libertine and her whoremongering seducer were alone ....
Despotic thoughts raged out of control, and Cartwright saw through a blood-red haze of vengeance as his psychotic sickness ran rampant through his mind; to kill Janice and Jackson Trendell took on more of a holy crusade against the sins of the flesh with every passing second, and Cartwright was forced on by a warped mind bent on purging itself of any taint it might have gotten by being tempted with fornication. What he was determined to do was a sacrificial washing of the hands - washing his hands free of complicity in the blood of others.
Sweat rolled off his body, staining his suit, as Cartwright made his way slyly around the house, slithering through the underbrush like a ferret. He peered in the window at the side of the living room, saw nothing but scattered clothing. Good ... good.... That meant the bedroom, and that meant - Cartwright rubbed his Goldfish hands together, and a strange, errie tingling made his loins tremble as he anticipated the salacious, pornographic sight he was surely to see as soon as he made his way to the next window. His mouth was open, his breath heavy, his rubbery lips moist with beads of perspiration ... careful ... carefully step up to the window ... that's it ... now raise up on tiptoe and press against the glass to see through the slit at the bottom of the shade ... yes ... yes...
Great Jehosafat! Harlow Cartwright stared with huge, bulging eyes, rigidly frozen in his position to the window pane as his already fomenting mind became dangerously close to the point of total paroxism. He saw what was transpiring in the palely lighted bedroom, and the hideousness of it was like throwing the circuit breaker on a shorted electronic device, for there .. . but a few feet from him was to him the very base incarnate, the absolute lowest level of everything he'd ever despised. He mentally recoiled in utter loathing, his hands gripping the sill of the window so hard that his fingertips turned white and his nails clawed furrows of splinters in the wood. His heart hammered in his chest, pumping the blood faster and faster through his distorted, crazed brain as the sights and sounds of the bacchanalia ruptured Cartwright's final, tenuous thread with sanity, with the real world. A small, frothy foam appeared on his bloodless lips, and an unnatural trembling fell over his limbs like the last stages of a plaguish fever, and his whole body was gripped by the desperate need to kill ... kill his wife, and kill that debaucher who was having intercourse with Karen! Jackson had even gotten his precious little daughter caught up in this tar pit of depravity! Yes! Kill all of them! They were all bad! Harlow Cartwright sucked in his breath, staring in absolute disbelief, as lewdly, Trendell swung his head from side-to-side, pumping his lust-hardened penis into the teen-ager's widestretched and hungrily moist pussy, seeing with his own sparkling eyes Karen's sucking, fish-ovaled lips around the other man's huge, thick rod as it pumped lewdly in and out. He reached down and softly rubbed the girl's distended, twitching pubic mound, seeking out her clitoris and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and he was unable to stop a grin of triumph and lewdness from spreading across his features. Karen Cartwright writhed and undulated in return with maniacal fervor, allowing herself to be buffeted between the two older men and following their increased tempo with the swirling of her tongue around Quinn's nearly exploding cock. And behind the trio, Janice Cartwright heaved her thighs and loins against Hutter's hammering body, relishing the tingling heat in her pussy; she moved her left hand under her, along her taut-muscled, rippling belly, across to the saturated mound of her hot vagina and the quivering button of her clitoris. She rubbed her finger over her clit, churning her hips against the groaning, panting boy fucking her harder and deeper in her ass, and then she leaned forward uncontrollably and nuzzled her mouth and lips in the superbly thrusting buttocks of Jackson, slicking his tiny puckered anal ring teasingly with her tongue, causing him to moan deliriously.
Suddenly a blind and consuming rage of insanity took hold of Harlow Cartwright, seizing control of his actions the way a terrier shakes a rat's neck. He emitted a low, animallike snarl of hate and disgust, whirled from the window, and ran back in staggering, stumbling leaps to his car. He fumbled with the keys, shakily opened the deck lid, and grabbed his new Stevens model 77 pump shotgun and three 12 gauge shells. He ran back, fumbling with the shotgun, trying to load the shells as he went - a, foolish, dangerous action only a man unaccustomed to handling guns and a man too nervewrought to think straight would ever attempt. He slipped on the pine-needled ground, losing his balance, using the shotgun as an emergency crutch to save himself from a headlong fall, and he reeled back, taking a deep breath and wiping the barrel, rib, and adjustable choke with his coat jacket, too crazed to consider the long, dung-colored slash of adobe and clay on his suit or the fact that the barrel had gone into the packed, dry earth. He was an avenging angel, bent on being the apocalypse to those five savages in the cabin, their own personal Second Coming; all else was secondary to the now insanely fanatical desire to stand in the bed room doorway and fire the three shells as fast as he could, and to hell with the consequences.
Still unaware of their fate, the hedonistically entranced ravagers were struggling with their building, spiraling orgasms. Janice Cartwright rode the superbly expanding cock of the Hutter boy, burying his thick, slippery shaft of hard flesh deep and long in her rectal passage while her breasts danced furiously under her, and faster and faster she tickled her clitoris and vaginal hole, her buttocks writhing in maddened salaciousness. She could see her pretty teen-age daughter buffetted between the swollen cocks of her lover and Ellery Quinn, and that spurred her on, her body fired with passion which she'd never dreamed existed. She dug another finger into the hot, soaking wet passage of her cunt and moaned insensibly as she strove for her own release, once more returning to kiss and lick the tantalizingly heated little anal hole of Jackson Trendell, her Jackson.
Karen Cartwright rode the hammering prick of her mother's lover, mewling as she sucked spasmodically the hot, hard penis of Ellery Quinn, as if she were some pagan horsewoman astride a racing steed, so proud and haughty and determined. She heaved herself with increasing fury up and down the powerful rod filling her young, steaming cunt, her hips undulating madly, frantically, her left hand dipping between her legs to fondle and caress Jackson's swinging balls as they slammed down in rhythmic slaps against her smooth, moistly splayed thighs. Quinn's fingers were cruel and merciless on her throbbing breasts, squeezing her nipples painfully with thumb and forefinger until she thought she would cry out in painful delight at his manipulations. Sweat streamed off of the tanned body of Jackson Trendell, rivuleted down to the white strip where his beltline started, then down to mingle with the juices of Karen's vaginal passions and his own seminal emissions as he neared his bursting point.
For long, frozen moments the five naked lovers remained that way, each straining every fiber and nerve of their beings for the orgasms, their only sounds grunts, mewls, and sighs of desire, and the wet, slapping sounds of naked flesh against naked flesh. It seemed as if they would go on throughout the night, striving for but never quite achieving their releases ....
And then ...
A deep, inhuman cry erupted from Arnold Hutter's throat, and he howled: "I'm there! Oh, Christ, I'm ... I'm ... cuuummmming!" He suddenly stiffened with his glistening cock pulled almost free of Janet's clasping anus, the puckered skin pulling out around his thick, knobby head, and then he levered forward with a crazed brutal lunge, still screaming out his climax, and Janet felt as if the boy's cock was ramming all the way through her body and to her throat. A great, burning surge of hot, swirling semen flowed in spurts into her rectum as he jerked convulsively, and the boiling fluid filled the lovely young wife's belly like an enema, and Janice moaned soulfully, bucking back in order to arrive at her now split-second away climax.
"Now, Jackson, now, fuck me harder..." her daughter moaned writhingly, and the rhythm of her twin lovers lewdly increased, faster and faster, until Jackson could no longer control his own voice, and he shouted: "Yes! Fuck faster! I'm ... I'm cumming tooooo! Aaaaagggg!"
His cock was jammed to its hilt in the raging tornado of the teen-age girl's hotly milking vaginal tunnel, and his own impending orgasm swiftly approached, while Quinn growled from the bottom of his belly, locking his hands around the back of Karen's head, drawing her fully onto his pulsing shaft until all that Jackson could see was a small bit of his base protruding wet and glistening from the daughter's hungrily sucking lips. Jackson gazed in fascinated awe as suddenly her throat constricted and she began to desperately gulp, and he knew that the warm wet cavern of her soft young mouth was being filled with a wildly spewing river of Ellery Quinn's orgasm, her cheeks bloating outward with his white hot cum as she tried to keep up with the never-ending torrent, and then he saw white ooze burst from around her flowering lips and form trails of viscid liquid which ran down her bobbing chin and drop to the bedding, and then his mind reeled with the almost inhuman squeal of delight from behind him, and the feel of a shuddering tongue and he knew that his beloved Janice was now in the final throes of her own climax.
Janice's frantically pumping buttocks contracted uncontrollably as she was torn apart by her climactic upheaval. She screamed again and thrust her ass back toward young Arnie Hutter's still jackhammering cock as it ejaculated into her bowels with unbelievable force. Her stomach quaked and her thighs trembled, and her brain spun with the sensual reactions she felt, and then she saw Jackson's buttocks clench tightly together, flexing spontaneously as he arched his spine and gripped the plunging buttocks of Karen's desperately quivering backsides. Janice knew that this was his moment, when her lover was shooting out his full load of hot, white sperm, only this time it wasn't in her, it was in her darling daughter, and this realization only added to her blissful lightheadedness, and over and over she thought: so good, so good ....
Jackson Trendell clenched his teeth together and felt his testicles erupt like great cannons, shooting his hot seed into the young girl's expectantly dilated cunt, far, far up into her quivering little belly like liquid arrows. He ground his pelvis hard into her churning buttocks and dug his penis further into her tiny womb as he continued to pour out his heated male semen against her soft inner vaginal walls, and Karen whimpered, her own orgasm nearing its end, and Quinn's cock slipped from her lips, limp and expunged, leaving a thin trail of sticky white spider-webs between its spongy head and the teen-ager's mouth. Karen groaned, and only Jackson's hands on her waist and buttocks held her to his penis as he strained to empty the last of his cum from his jerking testicles, and then, he released the child and let her collapse limply forward, his own shrinking cock sliding from her wet, flooded vaginal hole with a soft, sibilant sound, until she lay half conscious across the loins and chest of Ellery Quinn, her own slim legs unable to support her. She lay displayed in shameless abandonment, her soaked pubic hair and pink vaginal flesh glistening temptingly in the overhead light.
Jackson turned and smiled peacefully at Janice. "Christ, I love you," he murmured, falling on his side and kissing her fondly on one, hard, sweat-slickened breast.
"I love you, too, darling," she whispered in return.
"I ... I still don't understand what happened tonight, but somehow I can't help thinking that whatever the reason, it was for the best."
"Someday, I'll tell you all, Jackson," Janice grinned at him. "For now, just accept the fact that we're together, really together. I've found myself, and - "
"A family, Jackson," Karen said, looking up from her warmly curled position. "We're a family, the three of us. I wish you were my Daddy. You were so nice to me."
Quinn groaned and rolled over and stared balefully at them. "My God, that was the finest fucking I've ever had. That kid's really got a set of lips, let me tell you."
"We get the pictures back?" Karen smiled provocatively.
"Christ, yes. You sure earned them. I="
There was a tremendous crash as the front door burst open, and the five on the bed were frozen in startlement as they heard the thudding of feet and then the appearance of a deranged, wild-haired man, his coat open and tattered and streaked with dirt, a fire of some unholy brilliance dancing in his otherwise opaque eyes. They all shuddered and sucked in their breaths, cowering together in the moment of comprehension that this man who'd burst in on them was holding a heavy shotgun in his trembling hands. "Aha!" he cried.
"Harlow!" Janice cried, flinging the back of her hand to her mouth in sheer mortal fright. "Harlow, wh-what is this?"
Cartwright stood in the open doorway, his face a bright red, his stubby legs spread and spittle flecking his lips. "You Jezebel!" he shrieked madly. "You ... you adulterous slut! And the rest of you! You're all the same! Shameless violators, incestual gluttons, vermin of all that's clean and pure! You're not fit to live, any of you! Not one, not even Karen now that you've defiled her with your obscene and bestial abuses! Die, you filth, you carrion!" He swept up the shotgun, fitted it to his shoulder in such a swift motion that they were all caught off guard, stunned by his archaic swearing and sudden appearance. Janice had time for one, long wailing scream: "Noooooooooo ..." before the gun blasted into the remnants of the night.
Chapter 9
"Blowback," the sheriff's deputy said condenscendingly. "I'm terribly sorry about it, but accidents will happen."
Weeping openly into a small hankerchief, Mrs Cartwright heard and nodded her head. Standing beside her was Karen, and on the other side of her chair was Jackson Trendell. Sitting on a long, wooden bench with sullen, still half-shocked expressions were Ellery Quinn and Arnold Hutter. All were dressed, all were tired; it was four in the morning at the County Sheriff substation in Lockingville, at the base of the hills. Above, some thirty-five miles away, was Stephen's Lake, and the blood-spattered walls of the cabin.
"Do you know what caused the blowback yet, sir?" Jackson asked.
"Oh yes, and that's why I called you here now, for I've received the report from the lab. I thought you'd want to know as soon as possible so you could go home."
"Go ... home?" Karen said in a soft voice. "The ... we're free, and no charges?"
"No, of course not. I didn't think there would be, but naturally we have to make sure about these violent deaths." The deputy cleared his throat and ponderously settled his arms on the desk and opened the folder in front of him. "Hmm yes," he said mostly to himself. "You were all having an evening together, the six of you, sitting around and having a drink or two and generally relaxing, is that right?"
Everybody nodded; that was the story they had decided to tell after - after Harlow died. Janice shivered at the remembrance, the tremendous flash of b u r s t i n g light, like the flash-bulb of a giant camera going off in front of her eyes, and the sudden hoarse cry of agony from her husband, and the way he toppled backwards, the gun landing on top of him. The entire upper third of his body was covered with black scorch marks and ribbons of blood, his head was nearly severed from his body, a bloody stump of pulp which had once been nose, eyes, mouth, and a brain. And the shotgun clutched by the corpse was like a banana, its barrel curled back in three blackened strips. The air was foul with cordite and charred metal and human waste. She had screamed and screamed and screamed, even after Jackson had led her out of the cabin and Harlow's shattered body was draped with the bedspread.
The deputy was still talking, and Janice wrenched her mind back to what he was saying. "... Jackson a friend of the family's, and Hutter and Quinn two neighbors you'd met that day. Mr. Cartwright was showing off his new shotgun, and unthinkingly pulled the trigger as a joke." The policeman grimaced. "Some joke."
They had dressed hurriedly, had to before they could go to the authorities, and none of them wanted to explain how they'd been confronted by Cartwright, even if they could somehow explain his crazy threat to kill them all. The living still have to go on, after all ....
"Blowback is what happens when somebody fires a gun like Mr. Cartwright's with a solid blockage in the barrel; the unreleased load causes the gun to explode, splitting and peeling back so that the shooter receives a full charge in his face. It happens to hunters occassionally because they're not careful, and from what you've told me about Mr. Cartwright, he was most inexperienced with the handling of weapons. We had to test, and we did, and we found particles of the thick clay we have around that lake in the muz zle. We also found where it looked as though somebody had slipped on the grass outside and used the shotgun to stop himself from falling, for there was a hole like a small, round cookie cutter might make in the adobe there. An accident, a tragic accident caused because Mr. Cartwright made two careless errors. One, using the gun that way, instead of taking the fall and throwing the weapon aside; and two, firing the gun in the cabin without making sure it wasn't loaded." The deputy shook his head, and closed the manila folder. "That's it. That's the report I'll make to the coroner's jury when the matter comes up, and if you want, you can have your insurance company contact this office for a similar deposition."
There were a few other formalitites, but then the five were free to leave, which they did with great sighs of relief. Nobody spoke for a long time, and Hutter Quinn went their separate ways with only a shuddering nod of the head and a promise to mail the incriminating pictures to Mrs. Cartwright the next day. They'd had enough of this fracas.
"Jackson, what are you going to do now?" Karen asked.
Trendell stopped beside his car. He looked back at the lights around the substation, and pulled his jacket tighter around his neck with one hand. "I don't know," he said slowly. "Go back to my place, I suppose."
"I'm not going back to the cabin," Janice said, "not for anything. But would you like to come back home with us, Jackson? Karen told you just before ... well, just before Harlow came in that we were a family now. You ... still want to be one?"
"Very much."
"I couldn't be happier," Karen said with the enthusiasm of her youth. "I think you'll make a wonderful father." She licked her lips expectantly, knowing that the ache in her loins, the fire in her quivering pussy was the same as Jackson and her mother felt. "You marry mother and we all live together. Just as close as we can ... ."
Janice turned and put her arm through Jackson's and hugged him. "You mentioned wanting to ranch, didn't you?" Jackson nodded, and she went on, "Well, since this was an accident, Harlow's life insurance policy will be doubled, and we should get about fifty thousand I imagine. Think you can find a ranch somewhere for that?"
"A fine one, lover, a real fine one. And when we're there, there's nobody going to bother us. No matter what we do."
And as the three of them climbed into Jackson's car, they had the thrilling feeling that from then on, they would be doing all sorts of things together, all sorts of wonderful things, mainly in the bedroom. And ... it started later that very night, as they climbed naked into the warm double hotel bed and snuggled close to gether, and already the erotic flames were beginning to smoulder, to burn on for the rest of their lives.
