Jean Sheridan awoke to the harsh jangling of the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed. She struggled gradually from unconsciousness, from the bizarre surrealism of the dream she was having. She opened her eyes, momentarily enraged, slightly confused by her sudden transformation from another world, another time, to the present. She turned her head on the pillow, her silky blonde hair trailing softly over her shoulders. The sheet and light blanket had worked down off her, body so that they barely covered the rigidly tingling nipples of her voluptuous breasts.
The jangling continued for a moment longer, then ceased before she was quite awake. She turned her head again, staring up at the ceiling. Then her eyes narrowed and finally closed; her full pink lips, at the same time, parted. She breathed out softly as a faint but still discernible dream image darted visibly through her mind. Her hand moved beneath the sheet, touching the smooth flat plane of her naked belly, coursing down into the soft curls of pubic hair between her thighs, brushing lightly over the soft little clitoral bud at the top of her already slightly moistened pussy slit. A low, urgent moan rose in her throat. She was slipping back into the dream, her subconscious mind struggling to recreate the mystical and eerie world of the past and of night that moments ago had lived in her.
Then something recalled her. Another subconsciously triggered mechanism was spurred to its function. The dream faded; her eyes opened wide. She jerked her hand away from her yearning thighs, feeling a renewed stab of bitterness and frustration. Then, letting the sheet fall completely away from her lushly curved torso, she sat up, remembering with a mingling of excitement and dread that today was not just an ordinary day, but a day that would always in her life be very special. Today was. her first day of school, not as a student but as a teacher. Well, she admitted, in fact she was a student teacher, embarking on the program that would complete her training for the profession sheM chosen. Six weeks from now, barring acts of God, famine or war or some outrageously freak occurrence such as getting struck by lightning, she would have her certificate, she would really be a teacher.
Jean sat still on the bed for a moment longer, the covers resting lightly on her thighs, just revealing the first soft golden wisps of the "vee" of hair below her navel. She felt like an aspiring actress about to make her debut and the fluttering of nerves in her stomach obliterated all else from her mind for a moment. Yet there was some as . yet unnamed thing gnawing at her, some grand and mysterious unknown thing that related in a way she couldn't fathom to her natural anxiety about taking charge of a classroom for the first time. Then gradually the dream came back to her. It re-emerged. in bits and pieces from her subconscious and, seeing the source of her trepidation, she forced out a little laugh and shook her head. She turned, gazing across the room at the reflection of her naked torso in the mirror on the dresser. She studied her face, her clear blue eyes and sculpted cheekbones, her straight, almost aristocratic nose and her full voluptuous lips. She looked at the long golden strands of her blonde hair hanging down over the soft white of her shoulders almost to the swells of her firm breasts that stood up proudly without the need of artificial support.
Then suddenly she jerked her eyes away. Something she derived from looking at her own nakedness -- an awareness of her femininity and sexuality - contributed with the dream fo her anxiety about her first day of classes, But it was silly, it was the silliest dream in the world, and she couldn't even imagine what had prompted it or how in the deepest recesses of her mind her imagination had been capable of distorting reality to that extent without her -- even given the fact that she was asleep and dreaming -- ceasing to suspend disbelief. She was not going to walk into that ninth grade English class and find herself confronted with the sixteen year old boy who'd been the first lover of her life sitting in the front row gazing hungrily at her naked body. She wasn't going to be naked in the first place, and in the second place Jimmy Sheridan wasn't "Jimmy" anymore. He was Jim. He wasn't sixteen; he was twenty-four. And he had a wife and he was a long way from here.
But Jean was still quivering with nervous tension as she pushed the sheet off her thighs and got out of bed. She slipped her feet into the pair of fur slippers on the floor, then pulled on the flimsy silken robe hanging on the closet door and hurried down the hall to the bath. She turned on the shower, dropping the robe from her shoulders as she did so. The naked blonde again caught sight of herself in the mirror on the door and once more was unable to resist a look. She stood still fora moment, strangely ashamed of herself as she stared at the voluptuous curves of her youthful body, at the full mounds of her high-set nipple-peaked breasts, her slender waist, the firm curves of her hips and thighs.
"You're vain, Miss Sheridan," she said, turning away to step into the shower under the stinging spray of water. But it wasn't guilt about vanity that disturbed her as she'd looked in the mirror. She was bothered by what she'd been thinking about - the dream, again. She'd been imagining that the dream was real. She'd been remembering that perverse excitement she'd experienced moments ago inlier sleep as she'd believed she was conducting her first teaching class in the nude.
Jean soaped herself generously, letting the white froth of suds cascade down over her luxurious breasts and the smoothness of her belly, down into the triangle of sparse blonde hair between her thighs. She let her hands wander slowly toward it, scrubbing herself assiduously and feeling little unwanted tingles of excitement surge spontaneously through her flesh as her fingers touched the hair-lined lips of her pussy. She'd been more aroused by the dream than she'd imagined, and that arousal was evidenced by the sudden hunger that welled in her body in response to just this fleeting caress. She knew she shouldn't be doing this. Washing herself was all right; it was necessary that she wash down there too, but she shouldn't be permitting herself to respond to the pleasure that coursed through her glistening wet body. But then, surrendering briefly, the young blonde let her middle finger touch her tiny clitoris. She stroked the bud gently into tender erection while little darts of pleasure shot through her loins and over her wet skin. And as she touched her naked genitals she let herself remember:
Jimmy was her half-brother, two years older than Jean. He was the product of their father's first marriage, which had ended in divorce while he was still an infant. His mother, of course, had been granted custody. Their father had married again and Jean had been born. This marriage was more successful; it had lasted. Jean and Jimmy had never grown up as brother and sister. Their relationship was more that of friends or perhaps cousins. They met at the age of ten, when Jimmy came for what was to be the first of continuing month-long yearly visits with his father - his mother's second marraige, also now ended by divorce, had been to a Frenchman and until that time he had been living in the South of France. Even now Jean could remember that first nervous meeting with the half-brother she'd heard so much about, dreamed about, but never known. Though at ten she hadn't even begun puberty, Jean was aware" of the difference between boys and girls. Jimmy, at twelve, seemed to her like a roughish man of the world and, though he treated her like a child, she experienced an immediate disquieting attraction for him. He was a handsome boy. In fact, he was probably merely cute. To her he had seemed handsome.N He'd traveled a large portion of the world, and had even been to Africa. He had fantastic stories to tell. He spoke three languages besides English. He even seemed to have a very slight accent, which the blushing ten year old girl found terribly romantic. That visit lasted until the -end of August. When Jimmy went back to his mother, Jean couldn't hide her terrible hurt. It seemed she lived through the winter and spring just waiting for his return.
A pattern was set.vEach Ausust Jimmy came to stay with his father and Jean and her mother for a month. She idolized him. She followed him around like a puppy. And though he seemed fond of her, he treated her as a child. He thought of her not as a girl but merely a "little" girl. But now he was interested in sex. Sometimes when they went out for a walk or to a movie together he would meet girls his own age, girls just a couple of years older than Jean. But they had, by way of their two year age advantage, passed through that all-important transformation: they had breasts and everything that that implied. They were always flirting with Jimmy and he naturally responded. It never occurred to him that Jean, during these encounters, was secretly raging within. He must never have even guessed that she had a crush on him, that she already possessed the emotions of a teenager instead of a child. The third summer Jimmy visited, their father" scheduled his vacation to coincide and they took a two-week camping trip on the Snake River in Idaho. For Jean the outing was a blending of torture and ecstasy. Now she was twelve. She already possessed the first beginning swells of her breasts. She was getting the softest blonde growth of hair between her legs and she'd begun menstruation. And now in the company of her handsome half-brother, something deep inside her, a need she still couldn't quite comprehend, cried out until it almost drove her mad. She remembered the drive up from Southern California. Excess baggage had been placed in the back seat, which she and Jimmy shared, and they were pushed into physical contact, however slight. Because of the heat she'd worn a pair of shorts for the trip. Her legs brushed his. Once, inadvertently, he put his hand on her bare thigh. An awareness of this touched them both. During the two weeks of living in the wilderness, of hiking, swimming, sunbathing, the awareness between them grew. It was an unspoken, mysterious bond between them. Looking back, she thought that even then the potential was there. But nothing had really happened.
It hadn't happened until two years later, when Jean was eighteem, her half-brother eighteen. During the eleven months which had elapsed since they'd last seen each other, both Jimmy and Jean had gone through profound transformations. Hers had been the process of bridging that gap between being a child and girl, with all the physical and emotional metamorphosis involved. For Jimmy it had been simply a matter of experience. Of course at that time Jean was incapable of imagining what caused the remarkable difference in her half-brother, though she had seen it almost immediately, a difference in his bearing, a sharpening of his eyes, a new air of almost swaggering confidence about him. Now, looking back, she realized that had she even remotely been aware of the facts of life at that time, she would have known immediately what had wrought the change: Jimmy was no longer a virgin. During the time since she'd last seen him he had almost become a man. She could still remember the way he'd looked at her as she and her father met him in the airport terminal, that sharp penetrating glance at her face, his eyes running quickly down to the tight little swells of her newly-formed breasts, down to her firm-fleshed thighs arid the "vee" outlined between them in the tight-fitting capri pants she'd worn. Then, catching himself, he looked up self-consciously at their father. "Hello, Dad," he said. "Hello, Sis." Instead of hugging Jean he'd merely shaken her hand, or maybe kissed it -- she couldn't remember any more. Four nights later Jean's grandmother on her mother's side, who lived in San Francisco, had fallen and fractured her hip. Jean's mother and father had driven up, leaving them" home alone. They walked Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan to the car parked in front of the new house in the suburbs to which they'd moved the previous spring. Their father took a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket and put it in Jimmy's hand. To the west the sun was setting. "Well," he'd said, "We've got a good eight hours and it's going to be early morning when we get there. We'd better take off," He hesitated, looking back and forth from one of his children to the other. Jean's mother, already in the car, gazed absently into the distance, preoccupied. 'Take care of your sister, Jim. Take her to a movie or something. And we'll be back some time tomorrow night if we don't get tied up. If something happens, I'll give you a call."
"All right, Dad," Jimmy said. "Have a good trip."
They shook hands. Jean's father turned to her. He bent and kissed her, then looked tenderly into her eyes for a moment. Then he got into the car and they were gone. She and Jimmy stood on the sidewalk, staring after them until they turned at the corner and went out of sight. Then they looked at each other, both of them silent for a moment. Again Jimmy's eyes darted briefly to her developing breasts, down to her lean belly. She'd worn nothing but a halter and a pair of tight-fitting hip-huggers, a very sexy outfit on her supple young body, which she'd doubtlessly selected intentionally to see if they would attract his attention. Now she stood waiting before him, almost breathless. After a moment he shrugged. "So what do you want to do, kid? A movie?"
Jean moistened her lips. "I don't care, Jimmy. It's up to you."
His eyes dropped to the bare flesh of her stomach, where the little hole of her navel was just visible above the top of the tight pants. "You're growing up," he said, abruptly jerking his eyes away from her. "I guess we can look in the papers and see what's playing."
Jean nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. The last place she wanted to go tonight was to a movie. She didn't want to go anyplace. She knew what would happen if they went out. They would end up at a Dairy King and Jimmy would pick out a girl to zero in on. Jean would just be his little sister again, tagging along.
"All right," he said. "Let's go inside and see."
Jean turned away, moving ahead of her half-brother up the walk to the steps. She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder, experiencing a mingling of embarrassment and delight at tire discovery that Jimmy had been staring fixedly at her tight-rounded buttocks, though now he quickly looked back up at her face. They paused, her with her hand on the door, him there on the sidewalk behind her, staring into each other's Tyes. Between them passed that same awareness that had first occurred between them two years ago when they'd gone to Idaho on the camping trip.'
"You know, I really don't feel that much like a movie," he said at last. "If you do, I don't mind. But..."
Jean thought her heart was going to leap into her throat. "No, Jimmy! I don't care that much. I'd just as soon just stay here with you and have ... uh ... a quiet evening." It sounded silly after she said it, and she thought she saw a half-concealed grin flicker on his lips.
"I don't know if it has to be that quiet. I was really thinking in terms of a little excitement." Now her heart skipped a beat as her half-brother's eyes moved fleetingly down her body again. He was interested in her that way! She knew it now. And the mere thought of it caused goosebumps to break out over her smoothly tanned skin. She imagined it already: They could sit together like regular lovers on the couch. Maybe they would watch television for a while, Jimmy with his arm around her, his hand touching that little sensitive spot around the dimple on the back of her shoulder. Perhaps he would wait until an appropriate moment in the TV film, if there was one tonight, before the first kiss, which would be soft and tender on her lips. He wouldn't grope, wouldn't thrust his tongue vulgarly into her mouth at the first moment, panting and slobbering like a dog in heat, like the stupid junior high boys" she'd made out with occasionally. He would be controlled; his passion would be a reserved, seething thing, let out little by little. She would turn to him slowly, and he would stroke he" back, draw her gently to him. Only after her breasts touched his chest would she part her lips to take his tongue into her mouth. They would kiss several times, all different ways. He would still be rubbing her back, her arms, the sides of her body, moving gradually to her breasts. She would let him do that, she would let Jimmy even though she knew it was wrong. She would let Jimmy touch her any way he wanted to above the waist and maybe even a little bit below.
"I was thinking," he said, interrupting her fantasy. "We've got the whole house to ourselves. The stereo and all your records ..'. "
"Yes," Jean urged, her excitement wildly building.
"You must have a boyfriend?" Jimmy asked.
Jean resisted a frown, resisted even a puzzled look. She merely hesitated, maintaining her composure, trying to be careful and choose exactly the reply she wanted. There was a ninth-grader she occasionally dated and quite a. few other boys were interested in her. But she didn't think of any of them as owning her. She didn't go steady with anyone, and even if she had she wouldn't have let allegiance to any of them stand in the way of her and Jimmy. But she didn't on the other hand want him to think she was always alone, unpopular. At last the slender young blonde smiled, as wickedly as she could. "Oh, I have some guys I go out with. Somebody one night, somebody else the next. But I don't really care anything about them. They're fourteen. I prefer older men.
"But you could call one of them up. And you must have a good-looking girlfriend you could invite over for me?"
For a moment Jean thought her legs were going to collapse from under her. She'd been so thrilled a moment ago by the way Jimmy had looked at her, as if she were a sexy and attractive woman instead of a child. And she knew, even in her present mortified state, that she had not been deceived. Jimmy had been attracted to her, excited by her lithe young body. It was she who had inspired his suggestion. She had aroused him, gotten his mind on girls, and now he wanted her to fix him up with one of her friends.
Then, as she hesitated, an idea came into Jean's mind. It was ruthless, treacherous, but once she'd gotten it into her head she was powerless to resist. "All right, Jimmy," she said with a nod. "Most of my best-looking friends are pretty popular. I might have a hard time finding anyone who isn't already busy tonight, but we can try." She opened the door and went before him into the house. "Great!" said Jimmy behind her. "See if you can find one who likes to drink. Makes it easier, to break the ice that way."
"Drink?" she said, looking back at him. "Sure. Why not? Dad's not going to be home tonight and, heck, back on the East Coast everybody drinks by the time you're my age." They continued into the cozy den and Jimmy went straight to the liquor cabinet. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll have one now to get started on. You want something?" he asked as Jean settled onto the end of the couch and reached for the telephone.
She looked up, hesitating. She'd tasted alcohol before, but always in very small quantities. And she hadn't particularly liked it, except for the red wine the whole family drank at dinner when they were having something very special. But Jimmy had mentioned that it helped break the ice, and nervous as she was about what she planned to do, she thought she could use any available crutch. "Yes. I guess I'll take one," she said at last.
"What'll it be, then, Miss?"
"Oh ... Whatever you're having is fine."
"Martini?"
"Do you know how to make one?"
"Sure. Dry?"
"Uh.. .yes. I'll have a dry one." As she lifted the receiver to her ear and started to dial a number at random, Jean wondered how a martini was distinguished by the word "dry". She wondered if its opposite was a "wet" martini. Then the phone began to ring at the other end. She waited, counting the rings, one, two, three ... continuing until five before, though the ringing continued and it appeared she had been lucky enough to dial a number that was not going to answer, she spoke into the receiver:
"Hello, Kathy .... ? Mrs. Jones, is Kathy there...? She had a date....? No nothing important. Just tell her Jeanie called and. that I'll call back tomorrow... Yes, thank you. Goodbye, Mrs.... uh... Jones." She replaced the receiver on the hook, relieved that Jimmy hadn't noticed she'd almost forgotten who it was she was supposed to be talking to. "That was my best friend. I mean, the one I think you would have liked best. She's fifteen. But she had a date: She's already gone out."
"Don't worry about the age," Jimmy said, starting over with her drink. "I like young stuff too."
Jean smiled, narrowing her eyes. She pulled her shoulders back to arch out her small firm breasts. "Do you really, Jimmy?"
He stopped, staring at her the same way he had when they'd met him at the airport, the same way as outside before when she'd caught him looking at her body from behind. She licked her lips, moistening them slowly with her tongue, and gave him a fourteen year old's most seductive and inviting look as he extended the drink slowly toward her, his eyes fixed upon her. She knew her scheme was working. She didn't have a doubt in her mind now that before this night was over she and Jimmy would be making out right here on this couch. And though she knew that not only was her present deception wrong, but the very goal of her scheme was immoral, knew that there was a terrible sounding word for kissing and making out between relatives, incest, she was driven by a compulsion over which she seemed to have no control. Her conscience seemed already to have been swept under the rug.
Jean took the martini. She resisted a grimace as she sipped it, managed instead a smile. She stared back at Jimmy for a moment later, then abruptly turned her eyes away, "Here," she said, setting her drink on the table. "I'll try Sharon Morris."
Jean dialed another number at random. Now a gruff male voice answered. She'd dialed a bar. "Hello, Sharon?" she said.
"Sharon?"
"This is Jean. Listen, Sharon, what are you doing tonight?"
"What the hell are you talking about, lady?"
"Oh, that's too bad. Can't you get out of it? Any way in the world?"
"Out of what? You're out of your mind, I think."
"No, it's my half-brother. He's a dream, Sharon. He really is a dream. And my parents are gone and we thought we'd call up a couple of people and have a little party. I know you'd just love him."
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
Jean thought she almost blushed as she heard that shocking word, and she was relieved as she heard the slam of the receiver on the hook in her ear. She talked to the dead line a moment longer, then replaced the receiver gently. She took another sip of her martini, then looked back at Jimmy and shook her head. He stood in the same place, staring at her, seemingly unconcerned about what he must have deduced from her side of the conversation.
"Let me see," she said. "Yes. I know who might be able to come. Getting a boy won't be any problem, I don't think. I don't want to brag, but I do have a few admirers right now. If I can just find a girlfriend who's available."
"I bet you have," Jimmy said.
Jean smiled and dialed another number at random. She took another sip of her martini as she listened to the ring, finding that, she was already getting used to the strong, burning taste. This time she got what appeared to be a private residence, where her one-sided conversation with a girl the three people who took turns on the end of the line had never heard of, created' even more confusion than when she had called the bar. She finished the same routine, then hung up again and looked back at Jimmy, who seemed still not to have moved nor taken his eyes off her.
"I don't know what to do. I know, there's not going to be anybody, I mean, anybody you'd like. It's summer, Thursday night. And vacation will be over before long."
Jimmy downed the rest of his drink quickly. His eyes roved with obvious longing over the supple soft curves of Jean's ripening body. "Why don't you just forget it," he said. "Forget it?"
"Yes. I mean, unless you had somebody you really wanted to see. We can just have our own party. The two of us."
Jean looked into her half-brother's twinkling blue eyes, trying not to appear too excited. "No, Jimmy. I don't want to see anybody else. I'd just as soon be just with you."
He stared at her for a moment longer, that same awareness now a profound entity between them. "Good," he said. "Then why don't you go pick out some of your records and I'll mix up a pitcher of these things."
Her heart pounding with excitement, Jean bounded to, her room and selected several of her favorite records, both rock n' roll and slow romantic stuff. She returned just as Jimmy was finishing with the drinks, pouring them two fresh ones. They drank a toast, then she put on an album by one of the English groups that featured a little of both kinds of music. She took her glass and went over and sat on the couch, near the middle so that they were already very close to each other when Jimmy joined her there. They drank and listened to the music for a while, not speaking. It seemed now a tension had arisen between them. Then Jimmy asked her if she wanted to dance.
"Sure," Jean said. The song playing was a hard-driving rock number, but Jean was a good dancer and she liked having this opportunity to further display her body before the boy she idolized. And as she rhythmically jerked her buttocks and shimmied her breasts, she relished the hardly concealed hunger in his eyes. And Jimmy was a good dancer too, moving about before her with a display of almost perfect natural rhythm. The dancing, the communication of their eyes as they writhed and twisted before each other, seemed to alleviate some of the tension that had arisen. Then the fast song was followed by a slow blues number and as Jean fell warmly into Jimmy's arms, fitting her sensuously curved body snugly against his muscular chest and thighs, the tension seemed to fade completely, replaced by a maddening electric tingle of excitement. Then the song ended and they parted slowly, looking into each other's eyes. Jimmy smiled and, still holding her hand, led her back to the couch. The next record dropped. They sipped their drinks, sitting even closer together than before. Now her awareness of Jimmy's nearness filled the inexperienced blonde teenager with a longing she could hardly even comprehend and she waited breathlessly on edge, longing for that moment she now thought was inevitable when he finally really would break the ice and take her into his arms.
But instead he spoke: "Tellme, Jeanie. These boys you go out with? How tight are you with them. How ... ?"
He let his voice trail off, dropping the second question, as she turned to look at him. "I'm not tight with them. I just do it to pass the time. Because it's expected for a girl to have dates. But I don't care anything about them. Why?"
He shrugged. "Just wondered." He took another drink and was silent.
"You were going to ask me something else?" Jeanie prompted.
"I was going to ask ... what do you do with them?"
"Nothing much. Just movies, dancing and things. You know there really aren't that many places for teenagers to go in this world."
"But that's not what I meant. I mean, how far do you go? Sexually?"
Jean thought she must have blushed. The question put her completely off balance. Yet at the same time it seemed a terrible let-down, for she jumped immediately to the conclusion that she'd made one great big mistake about the whole night. She thought Jimmy must not have been interested in her romantically after all. He was going to play the concerned brother. The awareness she'd perceived in his eyes did exist, but he had.merely realized that she was coming of age sexually and now considered it his responsibility to take an interest in her situation, perhaps to advise her, even lecture her.
"What's the matter?" Jimmy asked after a moment. "Your face is all red." Jean merely stared at him in silence, still unable to speak. Then suddenly he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was quick and tender, but at least it shocked her out of her momentary paralysis.
"Why did you ask me that?" she asked in an almost quivering voice.
He grinned, reaching up and putting his hand on her shoulder, bare above the tight little halter. A chill danced teasingly down her spine. "I just wanted to find out how much experence you've had."
Again Jean balked. "Experience" in sex seemed almost too big a word to describe anything she'd ever known. "Not much," she stammered, finally. "I've been kissed and the boys I go out with are always trying to get their hands all over me. But they're so clumsy and stupid about it sometimes they just nearly make me sick."
"Then.you've never gone all the way?" he asked.
"All the way?" the fourteen year old girl gasped in shock. "My God! Of course not. I..." Her -voice trailed off as she saw, the smile on her half-brother's face. "Have you?"
The smile broadened. And then, though she still found it almost beyond the realm of belief, she knew that Jimmy had gone all the way with girls before. Perhaps she knew, even at that immature age, sensed without completely understanding it, that Jimmy's newfound worldly knowledge was what had wreaked the change in him she'd noticed when she first met him after he got off the plane. And in her present shock, the image of that lewd act he referred to, visualized hazily in her muddled mind, was almost more than she could bear. It angered her. It filled her with jealousy and rage to think of some other girl doing that with her Jimmy. And at the same time it aroused her. It excited her in some bizarre way she'd never been excited before, for her wildest "sex" fantasies did not go beyond kissing and a little relatively innocent stroking. And it filled her with a most perverse and disturbing curiosity.
"Would you like to try it? With me? Would you like to really do it with me tonight?" he asked her.
Now Jean was too dumbfounded to speak, but she wouldn't have had time to anyway, for suddenly Jimmy took her drink from her hand, placed it on the table before them, and leaned quickly toward her. He seized her shoulders, pulling her closer to him, crushing her against his strong chest until the sharp little points of her nipples seemed to bore into his flesh through his shirt. She whimpered with the forbidden pleasure rising through her body, and melted, still stunned and confused, without resistance into her half-brother's arms.
Jimmy inched closer on the couch until his thigh rested against Jean's; then he turned halfway toward her, crushing her even more tightly against him until she thought her breasts throbbed and her blood was on fire. He tilted her face up to his at last. As he looked into her eyes, she thought: This is the moment I've been waiting for. This is the kiss, the embrace I've longed for. And though she couldn't imagine how she'd stood the waiting, something in the back of her mind tried faintly to remind her that this was only the beginning, that this innocent kiss she'd so longed for in her immaturity might be the first step onto a path from which she would not be able to retreat.
Then Jimmy pushed his warm moist lips down against hers so hard, so ruthlessly that she almost cried out with pain and fear. "What's the matter?" he gasped in her ear. "Don't you like that?"
"Oh yes," she murmured, squirming her swelling breasts eagerly against her half-brother's chest though her conscience was now shouting out for her to resist. "Oh, Jimmy... oh yes!"
"Good," he groaned, bending his head to her face again. This time his tongue flicked out to shoot between her lushly parted lips and sink into the deep warm cavern of her mouth. He swirled it hungrily around, sending little chills of mingled fear and excitement shooting through her helpless body. She knew this was wrong. She knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong, an invitation to disaster. It would have been immoral no matter who the boy was, but for her to do this with her own half-brother was doubly evil. But at the same time it seemed the most wonderful thing that had happened to her in all fourteen years of her life and Jean sucked in her breath as she felt the tingling between her thighs intensify, felt her youthful breasts throb and swell, her blood seem to boil all through her loins and body. Jean's little nipples had hardened into rigid tight buds of adolescent desire even before she felt Jimmy's hands begin to fumble with the buttons of her halter. Deliriously, she remembered what she'd told herself earlier as she'd contemplated this moment. She'd decided she would let Jimmy feel her up all he wanted to on the upper half of her body, above her waist. She hadn't even been thinking at that time about the prospect of being naked above the waist, but now somehow she managed to rationalize the prospect. Yes, she would let him take off her halter. She would let him strip her naked like some Indian slave for sacrifice -- from the waist up. She would let him see her breasts, her nipples, let him kiss them, suck them, do as he pleased. There could be no real harm in that, as long as she drew the line and kept her tight hip-huggers on.
Then, as Jimmy drew back from her slightly, she watched wordlessly as he slipped the shoulder straps of the halter down her arms and the flimsy halter fell suddenly away to reveal the naked mounds of her small young breasts, peaked by the already pertly swollen little buds of her nipples.
"Oh wow, Jeanie!" he gasped with genuine admiration. "You really are gorgeous, did you know that? Your tits are really beautiful!"
A little shiver passed through Jean's body as her half-brother reached up to place his hand over one of the rounded swells of flesh, then took the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing back and forth on it almost cruelly. A strained little gasp rose in her throat, but in spite of the pain, she relished her brother's sensuous touch, relished all the maddening sensation.
The half-naked teenage girl closed her eyes, feeling almost dizzy with the ecstasy of the moment. She wanted to call out his name, "Jimmy, Jimmy!" She wanted to shout, "I love you, Jimmy!" But no words came. She'd completely lost her voice. It seemed as though she'd stopped breathing, and even though she could feel her heart flailing wildly against her chest it seemed that nothing in her moved, nothing existed in her except this forbidden pleasure that swept over her like a wave as the caress on her naked breasts again became tender.
She closed her eyes, sighing ecstatically as he continued the fondling, then resumed the pressure on one tiny budding nipple until Jean thought she would go completely insane with her rising passion. Then her handsome half-brother began to trail his fingers gently over the snowy mounds of her breasts to inspire even further spasms of excitement to wrack her now fully-aroused young body. Her flesh seemed to be igniting all over, to take fire and burn with an unending need. She shuddered completely out of control, knowing how perverted it all was, knowing she was going too far, much too far, yet powerless to stop it, powerless to make herself even will that it should stop.
And then she felt his mouth, his warm moist lips, as they grazed her neck and trailed down to the firm white flesh of her newly developed breasts. She cried out softly as the lips parted to take the small hard nipple between them, and again she shuddered, her whole body now quivering. She brought her own hands up to his head and pulled him even closer, hugging him to her as if she were a mother and he a suckling baby.
Jimmy's tongue swirled hotly around the small perforated bud of hardened flesh, giving it maddening little licks as the shivers of excitement took possession of his lust-crazed sister. She began to moan as he cupped one firm mound of breast in each hand, squeezing and kneading them to her ineffable pleasure. Flaming little sensations of arousal coursed through her body, making her tremble like a leaf in the wind. And though she still might not have admitted it to herself, Jean was already his, to do with as he pleased. Nothing on earth could have made her stop him now. Not the knowledge of the wrong nor the fear of their father's wrath could have given her the strength to refuse Jimmy anything he desired.
Again the half-naked blonde eighteen year old sucked her breath hoarsely in. His hand left her breasts to trail down across the flesh of her smooth flat belly and slip beneath her tight capri pants and the clinging elastic waistband of her white nylon panties. His fingers wormed teasingly into her sparse-curling pubic hair, just inches from her already lewdly throbbing clitoris. She was breaking her rule now. This was what she'd vowed she would not permit, and even as his other hand dropped into her lap to move up between her thighs, pressing warmly against her sensitive pussy flesh from the outside of the tight-fitting pants, she vowed that in just a minute she would stop him. Just a minute more, then she would.
Then she started as Jimmy worked his one hand lower inside her panties and his middle finger came into sudden shocking contact with the hard little clitoral bud. Her whole body jerked and she stared at him, helplessly confused at her own obscene response to that familiarity, as he drew back from her and gazed hungrily into her narrowed eyes.
"We're going all the way, Jeanie," he said in a strained voice. "I'm going to fuck you."
Jean recoiled again from that lewdly shocking word that she'd rarely ever even heard in her life. She shook her head weakly, unable even to speak, hardly able to believe her half-brother could really be serious. This was something she'd hardly ever imagined in even her wildest dreams. Perhaps somehow she'd always taken for granted that someday she would confront the real act of sexual intercourse itself, or whatever it is that grown people called it. But that had been in the distant future always -- after she was married, perhaps, or engaged, or at least after she had gone to college. And now her own half-brother told her he was going to do it to her, at the tender age of fourteen, right here tonight in the living room, and in spite of all her fear, all her moralistic objection, she wanted it.
She wanted it!
She wanted Jimmy!
And if it was going to happen someday, it might as well happen now. Jimmy had done it to other women; if he couldn't do it to her she knew she would lose him. And that was the one thing she feared even more than sex.
Then a cry of frustration rose spontaneously to Jean's lips as Jimmy withdrew his hand from within her panties, removed his finger from contact with the sensitive bud of her clitoris. She stared at him mutely as he loosened the snap and unzipped her tight-fitting pants, then urged her down onto her back in a reclining position on the couch, sitting now just on the edge to give her room to stretch out her legs.
"Now, lift up your hips, Jeanie," he said softly.
"Oh, Jimmy," she moaned, but that was the closest thing to a protest she managed, another shiver of desire running through her body as he worked the tight hip-huggers slowly down over her rounded buttocks, down the length of her sensuous thighs and calves, and off over her ankles to leave her completely naked except for her thinly clinging panties.
He gazed down at her with burning eyes, feasting over her supple near-nakedness. He leaned forward and kissed her again on the lips. She responded hungrily, sucking his tongue into her mouth in eager rapture, arching her back to squirm her breasts against his chest. Then she stiffened as he placed his hand back squarely between her slightly parted thighs, pulling aside the crotchband of the white silk parities and insinuating one finger and then another up under the flimsy wisp of material, seeking and finding the tiny, sparse patch of soft pubic hair nestled in the "Vee" between her legs.
Jean's whole body trembled out of control as her half-brother slid his fingers gently along the fleshy lips of her cunt, already moistened with her undepressed desire. They moved teasingly along the soft wet tenderness, back and forth, back and forth until she thought she would stand it not a minute longerrThen he again found the tiny bud of her clitoris, stroking it gently until it seemed it would burst into bloom, until it stood erect and taut and she feared her whole body would explode in a thousand searing fragments of unbridled lust.
The writhing teenage girl looked deliriously around, hardly able to believe this was happening to her, right here in the front room of her home, her family's house, right here on this couch where she'd so often sat with her father and mother, talking, eating a snack, watching television. Then she closed her eyes again, wiping all thoughts from her mind, forgetting everything else and allowing herself to enjoy without restriction the sheer raw excitement she derived from Jimmy's fingers upon the most treasured part of her .body.
She groaned as they slipped gently between the moist fleshy lips of her tortured pussy, searching out the glistening hole of her vagina, teasing it and taunting it until she almost went out of her mind. She held her breath in the intense ecstasy of the moment as Jimmy's middle finger stretched forth and slipped slowly and relentlessly up into her virginal cuntal slit, twisting and turning between the warmly throbbing walls of her vaginal passage. Impaled on the tip of it, Jean winced and thrashed, moaning louder as he began- a gentle finger-fucking motion in and out between her parted thighs.
Now the eighteen year old's stiffened finger slipped rhythmically in and out of his half-sister's throbbing pussy lips, the clasping walls closing tightly on it, grasping it as if to hold it in. Then with a sucking sound he withdrew his finger and the disappointed girl sobbed aloud in frustration. "No, Jimmy! Don't stop."
"I'm not gonna stop, Jeanie. I'm not gonna stop until I've fucked you."
Again she mentally recoiled from the use of that obscene word. Then Jean heard the metallic rasp of a zipper being undone and watched through narrowed eyes as Jimmy hurriedly stripped the clothes from his lean, athletic body and dropped them to a pile on the floor. At last he stood completely naked before her, and Jean dared let her eyes descend fearfully down to his young and eager penis jutting out rigidly from between his thighs.
Then the incensed adolescent climbed hurriedly up onto the couch, leaning eagerly forward to slide his hand beneath his naked sister's quivering white ass-cheeks, urging her to again arch them upward. With his other hand he seized the top of her tight-clinging panties, drawing them slowly down off her buttocks and thighs, and tossing them lightly away. He knelt above her, his legs straddling her trembling thighs. Then he urged them apart and planted his knees one at a time between them, forcing them gradually wider until Jean felt completely vulnerable beneath him.
Again the frightened but nonetheless excited teenage girl felt her half-brother's fingers parting the already lewdly moistened lips of her cunt. Then she gasped as she became aware of the presence of his slim but iron-hard penis poised above the tiny virginal opening when he lowered himself down between her wide-splayed thighs. It brushed against her pulsating pussy flesh with a tantalizing pressure that set off even more violent sparks of pleasure and lust to dart through her quivering body. Then she groaned from a sadden increase of pressure as Jimmy guided his rigid young cock-shaft right up between the parted cunt-lips and, a moment later, rammed his hips eagerly forward.
"Agghhh!" the breath caught in her throat.
She shuddered from the momentary red-hot pain as her body resisted; then the tight restricting ring of flesh that guarded the depths of her desire-filled loins gave way and Jimmy's throbbing cock wormed ' gradually up inside her, deeper and deeper, pushing her virginal pussy flesh aside in rippling waves before its lewd advance, tearing her hymen apart like a tissue and lunging all the way up into her yielded innocence until Jean was impaled to the hilt.
"Nnnngghhh!" The shivering girl groaned at the searing pain that shot through her skewered loins as the penetration was completed. Then she sighed with relief as it gradually faded, replaced by a pleasure she'd never experienced in her life. She lay back, moaning ecstatically, her legs spread out as wide as they would go, as Jimmy began to move, fucking slowly in and out of her freshly skewered loins.
Now the lust-inspired young girl knew nothing but the unnatural pleasure and even more unnatural lust that overwhelmed her, that made every pore of her skin tingle with unaccustomed delight and want, a joy and hunger that seemed to set her very blood to burn.
Jimmy was caught up in his own excitement and triumph now, fucking eagerly and swiftly in and out, each lunge, each thrust of his perversely hardened cock adding new excitement to the rapture that engulfed his younger half-sister. And in spite of the continued faint discomfort that even her joy and pleasure could not completely erase, she began to move urgently beneath him, grinding herpelvis against his jerking loins, undulating her hips in a slightly circular motion to even further increase the titillating sensation as she whimpered in sheer forbidden lust and longing.
Again and again her first lover's pulsating hardness plunged into her, deeper and deeper, was withdrawn and plunged again. "Oh Jimmy, Jimmy," she cried, writhing beneath him on the couch as his throbbing cock-head burrowed in and out of her desire-tortured cunt.
The impaled girl knew still that what she was doing was wrong, but she no longer cared. She gave herself up completely to the ecstasy that enveloped her. She was one with her half-brother, her lover, taking him deeper and deeper into her most forbidden and sensitive flesh, responding with ail her heart and soul, with all her supple, sensuous body, to his passionate lovemaking, And gradually the excitement in her throbbing vagina began to spread like ripples in a pond over all of her nakedly twisting flesh.
She lost herself in the sheer sensation. Her own orgasmic juices began to flow forth to wash the burgeoning penis now enclosed within her previously unviolated cuntal passage. Tremors of lascivious delight overcame her. Then something she'd never experienced took place, It was like a bolt of lightning in her mind, a robe of bright light on her perspiring flesh. For a moment she was too dazed to even realize what it was. Then she knew. A most primeval female instinct warned her of the approaching fury.
She was going to cum!
Sobbing in complete abandon, Jean ground her buttocks up and down on the cushion of the couch, her arms shooting up to clasp her incestuous lover closer to her, her fingernails raking across his naked back and leaving a trail of thin red welts behind them. Suddenly her legs jackknifed back until her knees almost touched her quivering breasts. She felt Jimmy's hard thick cock slide in her to the hilt until it smacked against her tender cervix. Then suddenly his own seething, burning male sperm shot forth, pumping into her in great hot droplets to mix and mingle with her own lewdly flowing vaginal juices.
A moment later it happened.
Time stood still. She shuddered, and inhuman animal sounds poured in a torrent from her throat, lightning flashing again in her mind, the robe of fire of light consuming her naked flesh, her vagina spasming in urgent and feverish delight as the waves rolled over her, burned her, blanked her mind and set her to drift upon a cool sea of air.
Then there was nothing. Just the two of them still locked together, entwined and fused, brother and sister of one body there upon the couch in the den of their own father's house.
Then they slumped. Sound came slowly back to Jean's ears. It was the sound of their own panting. She realized, unable to regret it, what had happened. During the ecstasy of that orgasm that had engulfed her it had seemed like a dream from which she never wanted to awake. But now reality returned. She had been fucked by her own half-brother. They had committed incest. She was no longer a virgin.
And worse, even as tears of sweet sorrow swelled in her eyes, there was only one thing about the future that she knew for certain:
Though this had been the first time, it would not be the last.
Chapter Two
Jean fought her way through the morning traffic on her drive across town from the State College campus to the junior high school where she was to perform her student teaching. As she neared it, she noted the gradual disintegration of the neighborhood. It wasn't a slum, but it was no comparison to the residential section near the college where her little apartment was situated. But she'd already been forewarned: Benjamin Franklin was one of the most difficult schools in the city. They always accomodate student teachers.
Barely on time, she parked in the faculty lot, got out and hurried into the old building which, like the neighborhood, was run-down. It was still an hour before the first class and none of the students had arrived. The halls were deserted -- empty, gloomy echo chambers.
Consulting her mimeographed instruction sheet, Jean sought out the home room that was to be her charge and was disappointed to find it still locked. She had hoped to slip in and acquaint herself, not so much with the room, as with the desk. It was perhaps a subconscious whim. She wanted to claim that desk, to leave a few personal items that would make it seem like her own, her territory, her "turf" as her students would doubtlessly have said. She wanted to make it a defensive position from which to greet her first class. In that little symbolic security she hoped to rally her scattered, jittery nerves.
Then she hurried on to the little auditorium where her fellow student teachers 'had assembled for "orientation" Orientation, conducted by Dr. Blando from the college, proved to be a" pep talk presented on a level somewhere between a football coach's half-time lecture and a small-town political rally. It dragged on and on and on. Old Blando was always strong-winded, long-winded; today he was indestructible. Almost everything he said he'd already said many times before to these same students. But it seemed he had to let it all out again. From the hallway outside came the bell announcing the beginning of first period. Dr. Blando consulted his watch, apologized to his students for detaining them, and continued doggedly with Ms speech. Perhaps he thought of it as a sermon.
Jean's mind drifted. She was filled with dread, at the same time filled with secret guilt over what had happened this morning. She had masturbated in the shower, thinking about what had taken place with her half-brother Jimmy eight years ago, and remembering the many times it had happened after that until he'd graduated, from high school, returned to the France that had been his childhood home, and enrolled in the Sorbonne. She remembered with a twinge of sorrow the letter she'd received, some two years after that, informing her that he'd met a girl and was going to get married. She supposed he hadn't known, even then, that all that time she'd been waiting for him. She'd riever thought of Jimmy as her half-brother, particularly not after that first night on the couch. She thought of him only as her lover, thought he was the one real man in her life, taken for granted that he could never be replaced by any other. Such practical questions as marriage, the impossibility of it happening between them, she never bothered to consider.
"And you," Dr. Blando continued, his voice building to crescendo, "are the true New Centurions; you are the Roman Legions marching into conquest, the Christian Soldiers of the intellect. You are at war, and your only purpose is the banishment of your enemies from whatever corner of the earth you may find them. Your enemies are ignorance, prejudice, illiteracy and deprivation!" He stopped. He smiled. It looked as if he might expect applause. Then he mumbled, "Go get them, team. Dismissed."
Jean sighed and got up and left the auditorium. She walked back down the long gloomy hallway, again deserted though no longer silent; chatter and laughter poured from the doorways to the classrooms that lined it. Nor was her homeroom any exception.
Outside the door the sensuous twenty-two year old blonde hesitated. Her heart was pounding rapidly. There was a tight constriction in her throat and she wondered if she would be able to speak. She stood with her ear almost to the closed door, listening to the din of racket from within. That, she thought, would be her first chore of the morning. She would have to demand silence and attention from these noisy ninth-graders; she would have to get it before she could proceed further. But right now, she felt very inadequate in the attributes that would command that respect. But she knew that to delay would accomplish nothing.
Jean took a last deep breath. She smoothed her modest skirt down over her lithe thighs, made sure her conservative white blouse was carefully tucked in. She checked her long blonde hair, which she wore conservatively in a bun below her crown, pulled back tightly from her forehead somewhat in the manner of aristocratic Spanish women. Then she opened the door and stepped inside.
The young student teacher felt at that moment like a Christian prisoner entering the arena of the Roman Circus. She seemed to be floating, her feet almost not touching the floor. She glanced at the students, thirty-five of forty, both male and female, and saw only a blur, a montage of distorted, indistinguished faces. She focused her attention on the old wooden desk situated in front of the blackboard before the class. It looked as if it had been carved-on down through the years by an army of woodworkers. It looked like it had been beat on, walked on, sat on. It was dusty, A few books stood up between two bookends. There was a box of Kleenex. Spread on it was a seating chart, above that lay the roll-book, beside it a piece of legal paper with a topic outline of something, the teaching schedule, a second copy, as she'd already received her own and indeed spent the entire last week preparing for the lessons which she would pick up in the middle of the spring semester. Behind it was an old swivel chair, equally worn. The desk and the chair appeared now a million miles away, vague things, yet curiously familiar. It was not so much as if she'd seen them before, but as though she'd imagined them.
She walked toward the desk. She was thinking how she would stop there, behind it. She would feel much better once she was behind it. She would turn there, still standing, and address the class. She'd planned all this yesterday, worked out carefully in her mind what it was she was going to say. She would remember it, she trusted, once she reached the desk. And after she'd made her initial address, she would sit down.
The silence came suddenly, seconds after she'd entered the door, as swift and abrupt as if it were her own ears being turned off like a radio. She had not expected it to be that easy, yet somehow it disquieted her; there was something forbidding and oppressive in this sudden lack of any sound except the sound of her own heels clicking on the floor. But there was something familiar about it, as if it corresponded to some other occasion when silence had come too suddenly and completely over a scene. She looked at the windows, glimpsing the tattered shades, the light filtering through. She looked at the old walls painted in dreary and chipped institutional green. That was the color that was supposed to let schizophrenics sleep without having nightmares - or something.
It was supposed to get them through their days with a minimum of emotional turmoil, an ugly lulling, a depressing of spirits. And here she was, thrust back into that dream, almost, as the little bits and pieces, little sketches fell like floating papers that came down magically off the air and into place on the ground, to make a perfect picture, recreating again without error what had been torn assunder and scattered.
At the desk she started to turn, to face the silent blurred portrait before her, that she had barely looked at and without having seen it she still almost knew what it would be when she did.
Then the silence was broken by the shrill whistle. As the color drained from the blonde English teacher's face, it was further ruptured by the catcalls, the exclamations, a clamoring commotion. She felt naked. She felt as naked as in her dream this morning. And as she turned and looked at the class, the picture.was the same. Jimmy Sheridan, fourteen years old, was seated in the front desk on the second row to Jean's right. It was Jimmy! It looked just like him! The only difference was that now he was wearing glasses and with the changing of the times he'd grown his hair longer to keep up with the fashion of the day.
Jean blinked and looked again. The picture was the same, just as she had dreamed it. The boy at the front was not Jimmy, however much he resembled him. Nor was she naked, however much she felt like it.
They were laughing now. On the back row some of the rougher looking boys exchanged under-the-breath remarks that nevertheless drifted to the front and into Jean's shocked ears. Desperately trying to compose herself, she let her eyes wander over the room. With a trembling hand she opened the roll-book. Then she looked down at the seating chart, singling out the seat where the boy who'd so stunned her a moment ago was sitting. She noted his name, then looked back at his face. He was different from the rest. He was not making a sound. He was staring at her, almost, it seemed, as though with recognition. She looked again over the room, back at this young boy.
"What is your name?" she asked.
The voices died momentarily away, with only a lingering of sniggering. The question seemed to have surprised everyone. They must have expected something else, a scolding, a military call to attention. Perhaps they'd expected her to break down completely and that is what she had almost done.
"What is your name?" she repeated, though she knew it.
"Craig," the boy said in a weak voice. "Craig Williams."
The near silence continued. Jean settled slowly down in her seat. She looked at the work sheet to refresh her mind as to exactly where the class was supposed to be. Then she remembered. It was English Literature, they were now reading the World War I poets. Today they were responsible for Rupert Brooke. 'Tell me, Craig. Have you read today's assignment?"
. "Part of it," the boy answered, looking her straight in the eye.
She shifted her gaze to encompass the entire class. "Is there anyone here who bothered to read the entire assignment? Could I please have a show of hands."
With the exception of Craig Williams, every student in class raised his hand. A couple of the boys on the back row, Jean thought, raised two hands. She also singled out a couple of clench-fist salutes. She looked back at Craig.
"Why did you read only part of the assignment? It wasn't overly long, was it?"
"But it was, in my opinion, overly terrible poetry," he said, still looking her straight in the eye. "I have a hard time imagining a few square feet of England still in France after all this time."
Jean laughed. She didn't intend to, it just slipped out. "I'm afraid I agr^e with you. I don't think that is any excuse for your not completing the assignment, though."
"I skipped ahead and read Dylan Thomas, even though I thought the selection limited, and rather bad."
"Rather bad?" Jean asked. "I'm afraid I haven't come to the Thomas section in this text. How about the rest of you? Let's see the hands of all the people who've read ahead to the Dylan Thomas section."
Immediately all hands went up, accompanied by a rapid shuffling of pages. She quelled another laugh. "Don't panic, ladies and gentlemen. We're not going to discuss Mr. Thomas today, as much as I'm sure Craig would prefer to. But I'm sure we will have a very exciting discussion when we reach that period." She paused. "I, by the way, am Miss Sheridan. As you probably know, I'll be with you for six weeks." Suddenly, for a reason Jean could hardly imagine herself, she was enjoying this. "The general idea is that during that time you students will teach me to teach. I will appreciate all the help and encouragement you can give me. And now, for Mr. Brooke..."
There was another frantic shuffling of pages. If they had indeed read the assignment, it hardly appeared that these students trusted their memories.
"All right," Jean went on. "Now, could I please see the hand of somebody who did enjoy this British poet."
There were no hands shown. The students, it seemed, were in complete agreement with Craig, with her for that matter; as the class progressed, it became apparent why: they felt safer there. And as she'd of course anticipated, there were very few who had read the poems, though everyone she called on had managed to select a line they could throw back at her as an example of what they considered bad poetry -- as was opposed, it turned out, to the poetry of Dylan Thomas, William Shakespeare and Bob Dylan.
Jean settled with remarkable comfort into her knew teaching situation. It was not easy. It was a challenge like nothing she'd ever faced in her life. For just as the lack of preparation on the part of the class that first day foreshadowed the general apathy towards learning and particularly towards literature, that first male whistle and the catcalls and guffaws that had followed it signaled the attitude of the boys in the class toward her. They should probably have respected no ^]ne as having authority over them, except maybe a karate expert or professional football player. But the fact that Jean was a sensuous and attractive young woman, a blonde, made her situation doublely difficult. A lot of these boys, particularly the bigger, rougher ones who sat in the back row, were very worldly for their age. The way Jean caught them looking at her sometimes was almost enough to convince her that that disturbing dream she'd had the night before she'd begun her classes had come true. She felt naked as a slave sometimes- She felt as if these kids had X-ray vision and were looking straight through her clothing to her completely exposed flesh. It did demonstrate one thing though: though the education these students had been receiving might not be up to the standard one would have hoped for, there was no lacking to their imagination.
By the end of her third day in class, Jean had decided that her job was to present something out of the prescribed subject matter that could interest her students. Looking ahead in the text, she decided Dylan Thomas did offer the best possibility. With that in mind, she went to the library at State, refreshed her memory with a bit of research and the next day, completely out of the context of the prescribed teaching schedule, she spentthe entire literature period discussing Thomas's life. And she allowed herself to wince at nothing, alluding both to his reputation as a ladies' man and to his alcoholism and the general state of debauchery in which, according to the autobiography she'd read, the poet had lived a great period of his life. She quoted a few of the more humorous and cynical, even partly ribald remarks that had been attributed to him, which genuinely broke the class up with laughter. The stories of drinking and women were something they could "respond to, as they were for the most part tough kids, street kids. They could in an odd way identify, even at their young age, with a man like Thomas. One boy remarked that the poet reminded him of his father; another said he couldn't imagine a man like that even writing poetry. It was unorthodox, but it worked. She had aroused their interest. There were moans of protest at the end of class when she announced that tomorrow they would be obliged to return to the text and their study of post-war poets. Thomas would have to wait until next week. But on the following Monday, when she assigned the class to turn in two page essays on what they liked or did not like about Thomas's poetry, there was scarce objection. It appeared that by now some of the class had skipped ahead and read the Welsh Man. They had opinions and they didn't mind taking the trouble to write them down.
Craig Williams was the most promising student in the class. He seemed of a different cut of wood than most of the other boys. He was interested in literature, quick to express an opinion. He had taste; he knew what he liked and what he didn't like. But for Jean he was nothing but trouble. She should have known it the minute she saw him sitting there in front of her. The dream, her vivid recollection of that first night with Jimmy, her recollection of the heartbreak when he'd informed her he was getting married and finally her shock at seeing this young boy had initially so reminded her of her half-brother, had served to bring her half-brother to the fore of her thoughts. And though there were many things about Craig, characteristics and quirks of his nature that were in almost direct contrast to Jimmy, the resemblance remained strong enough to make mental association impossible to avoid. Sometimes the two of them almost changed places in her mind. Once, when Craig raised his hand and she called on him to speak, she said not his name but her brother's.
Other times, as she remembered making love to Jimmy, she found herself wondering what it would be like now, now that she was an adult woman, to do the same thing with Craig. She knew she had no right to think such immoral things, no right at all. And yet she was powerless to prevent the lewd images from parading through her brain. She imagined what it would be like to lie beneath this boy naked, just as she had beneath Jimmy that first night and so many times after. She could almost feel his delicate young hands tracing over her quivering belly, slipping lower and lower until he touched ever so delicately at the swollen little mound of her pussy, covered with her soft golden pubic hair. She could have almost cried out, imagining that; she trembled with the knowledge of the pleasure that would sweep over her naked flesh at that electrically titillating contact.
Of course it was all just a crazy dream. It would never happen, but it was a dream that went on; what preceded would have been but the beginning of her delight. Then came that first ecstasy as he took her throbbing breasts in his small hands, the little nipples already hard and pulsating sucked deep into his mouth as he swirled his tongue around and over the erect little buds to send shivers of sheer lust shooting up and down her spine, chills of excitement raging through her whole body. And she would lie back then, surrendered and helpless just like that first night, unable to resist any longer, her flesh responding submissively to the eager slavering of his tongue over the hard ripe buds of her nipples as the tiny lewd darts of fire seemed to shoot through her belly to lap at every inch of her forbidden nakedness.
The tingling between her legs would be almost unbearable -- it began now, just with the dreaming of it -- and it would grow more maddening until at last the young boy slipped his finger even farther down, below her belly, right down between her thighs and up between them to part those tingling lips of her cunt and begin to worm inside...
On and on the fantasy went. Sometimes it went all the way to the end, to the violent crescendo of her orgasm itself.
Sometimes it stopped. She awakened and was returned - to the rudeness and the dreariness of the present, of reality.
, When the weekend came and Jean awoke on Saturday morning to the realization that she could sleep as late as she wanted to, she actually experienced a twinge of regret that she would not be teaching today. She wrote this off, or tried to write it off, to the fact that she regretted not really having anything special to do. The fact was that she had pjenty. She had a stack of doubtlessly atrocious papers to grade from the grammar class she taught during the second period. That evening she had a date with a graduate student in European History. But she wasn't that interested in him and tonight would be no different than the other boring times she'd been out with him. But her real problem today wasn't the prospect of boredom. It was a loneliness, a very special loneliness for the young students in her class, particularly Craig Williams, though the fact was that something in her had also responded to several of the other fourteen year olds, especially Pete Harris and Butch Niermeyer, two rowdy and irreverent, but actually quite intelligent youngsters, who sat at the back of the room. And though she still hadn't admitted it to herself, Jean was already beginning to realize that making her career as a teacher was going to create a very special personal problem for her. There was something in her that responded to adult men during the time since she'd started college. It had found its focus in Craig, in his resemblance to the half-brother she still secretly loved. But it was not limited to him; it was a general syndrome in her nature.
Jean spent the afternoon grading her papers. The job was even more dismal than she'd expected it to be. Late in the afternoon she became moody. She decided she didn't feel like keeping her date. Breaking dates was something Jean rarely ever did, for in spite of her good looks she didn't have that many in the first place. But she rationalized her decision by telling herself that she wouldn't be good company anyway in her present mood. She called up the graduate student and told him she had a touch of food poisoning, which he assured her she'd probably gotten in Benjamin Franklin Junior High School's cafeteria.
She spent the night alone with her fantasies. Somehow she resisted the temptation to masturbate. Sunday was better than Saturday only in fact that it was closer to Monday. To escape her thoughts, Jean took in a movie that night. Then Monday morning appeared and she was back in front of the class she'd come to enjoy so much in spite of all the challenge it presented. She was back at her desk in front of Craig Williams, and this morning she could hardly keep her eyes off him. One time he caught her staring at him, having almost forgotten where she was. She blushed and looked away, wondering what the poor young boy would have thought if he knew what she'd been imagining as she looked him over.
Tuesday's discussion of Dylan Thomas proved as animated and full of interest as Jean had hoped. Though there had been smaller events that had greatly pleased her, this was the first example of real success as a teacher. She had gotten these rowdy street kids to take interest in the work of a serious poet, granted that she had virtually tricked them into doing so. Some of the ideas about Thomas's work that were presented were hardly a concern to the blonde teacher. It was the fact that the ideas were put forward in the first place that was so thrilling. Now the only problem was finding ways to maintain in the authors who appeared subsequently in the text. Jean vowed she would use any means possible to achieve that objective. It was almost with a relish that Jean left the junior high school after she'd completed her classes and drove back to State for the one afternoon class she had there, She would spend tonight reading over the papers the class had handed in describing their reaction to the poems they had discussed. She'd counted them before leaving and to her astonishment, every single student had done the assignment. Even before she sat down for her grading after supper that evening, Jean had made a decision; her only question in determining her grades would be in evaluating whether, relative to the work of his classmates, each student deserved an "A" or a "B". She hoped that kind of reward to go at least some distance in spurring the pupils to continue the effort they'd put forth in their study of the Welsh poet.
Jean settled down on the couch in her apartment and put on the reading lamp standing at the end of it. She placed the stack of essays in scrawled longhand on the coffee table before her. She shuffled through and found Craig Williams's paper, which she'd intended to read first. Then she hesitated. Perhaps it would be easier to maintain her interest, she thought, if she saved Craig's paper for last. Then she placed it at the bottom of the stack.
Though the papers were hardly brilliant, the reading of them was for Jean an exhilarating experience. For they were invariably sincere, reflecting the same thought and interest that had gone into this morning's discussion. She divided them almost evenly into "A's" and "B's", and on the "B" papers she tried an encouraging note of some kind. Near the end of the stack she decided the whole experience warranted a drink of the whisky she kept in the kitchen for so-called "medicinal" purposes. She went out and poured herself half a glass. She finished this just as she was finishing the papers, save for Craig's at the bottom of the stack. She went and refilled the glass, then settled down to read it.
Spellbound, yet at the same time stunned, Jean skimmed through the boy's paper, five and a half pages of it, written in a neat longhand that contrasted with most of the others. Finished, she put it back on the table, beside the others, and sipped her drink and tried to think about it. Craig's paper was nothing short of a brilliant piece of writing. It revealed a deep insight into the poet's work. It was sprinkled with quotations to support several very original theses it put forth. Coming from a eighteen! year old boy who went to a second rate school on the wrong side of town, it was absolutely astonishing.
There was only one problem. Craig had excluded any mention of the work that had been assigned from the text and discussed in class. He'd devoted himself entirely to discussion of the author's other works, concentrating on the most controversial. Jean knew that she should be impressed. She was, and she knew as well that Craig's paper was far superior to any of the others. She thought in fact that with just a little more effort it might actually be made publishable in a literary journal put out by the English department at State. But Craig's refusal to even refer to the poems on which the paper had actually been assigned infuriated her. Granted that Craig had read that work, that he'd brought forth several very interesting points during the in-class discussion, she could only take his action as an insult. It seemed an act of open disdain to her, and as she sat there sipping her "medicinal" whisky, she fluctuated rapidly back and forth between "A" and "B" as a grade. Of course the paper warranted an "A" but to give it the top grade seemed to be to encourage this kind of independence. To give it a "B" on the other hand seemed- almost petty, and though it might vex the boy, it would be a gesture of little actual consequence.
Then Jean could hardly believe the idea that popped out of the blue and into her head. There was one way to really teach Craig a lesson. She could give him a "C", the absolute lowest grade in the class. And at the same time she could explain to him why she had done it; she could assure him of the merit -of the work he had done on the basis of content alone. The whole gambit was perfect. Craig would at first be furious with her. Then, her flattery, perhaps even her offer to work with him at perfecting a few rough spots in the paper and to do what she could do to get it published in the English department journal, would calm him. A bond could be established between them, a really genuine friendship on a platonic level.
It was somewhat of a cheap, ruthless stunt, she realized. In some ways it was similiar to the trick she'd played on Jimmy that night so long ago when she'd merely pretended to phone her girlfriends and try to get him a date with one of them. But she couldn't resist trying it, and it was almost with elation that Jean downed the last Of her drink, placed the glass on the table and leaned- forward and marked the big red "C" across the top of the coversheet of Craig's paper.
She sighed and leaned back in the chair. She shook her head, almost sorry for what she'd done already but determined nonetheless to go through with it.
Then she closed her eyes. Her mind drifted. Almost without warning she found herself back in that familiar, frightening fantasy world again.
Chapter Three
It was Thursday evening, the day after Jean had delivered the graded papers. She'd had a conference at the student union building and she was getting home just a little bit late. She was going to have to rash in order to be ready for her next engagement. As she let herself into her half of the duplex apartment in which she lived, Jean wondered, just as she'd wondered almost without stop since the end of English class yesterday morning, if she hadn't made a serious mistake. She knew that considering the way she'd been feeling this last week of so she was really courting the devil. Perhaps she was inviting disaster, but it wasn't so much that she'd arranged the situation she now had to face herself as that things had just worked out that way.
Jean didn't think she'd ever forget the look of hurt and anger that had flashed on Craig's face when she'd -handed back the papers at the end of class. He'd clutched it to his chest as though to avoid letting anyone else see the grade which he would certainly consider as a failing grade though technically that wasn't the case. He'd just stared at the floor for a moment, confused and hurt. Then he'd looked up and caught lean staring at him and something that approached genuine hatred flashed that moment in his eyes. He stared at her until she had flushed and looked away. Then as the rest of the students milled around congratulating each other and themselves on the "B's" and "A's," he'd stalked toward the door.
Almost petrified with regret, Jean had watched him go. At nearly the last moment she had risen and spoken his name, softly at first then in a loud quivering voice, "Craig."
That had stopped hinf; he turned and looked back at her, almost the same way as he had before. She went to him. Almost frantically, she'd tried to justify it on the basis of the fact that his paper had not dealt with the actual assignment she'd given him. She had assured him that the "C" would not affect his overall report card grade. Then she told him her idea about trying to get the paper published, and he appeared to cool off somewhat. She said she would like to discuss it with him in detail and asked if he could meet her after class. He'd informed her that he worked every afternoon as a busboy-dish washer in a cheap off-campus restaurant frequented by college students. That was when it had happened. It had come out of her mouth almost without her having thought about it. She had seen an opportunity; she had jumped to it without evaluating the possible repercussions. She had invited Craig to come by her residence with his paper after he got off work the following evening, pointing out that it was actually a short walk from the restaurant where he was employed, and she had assured him that after they had finished going over the paper, she would be only too glad to drive him back home.
Now Jean wondered if she had made a mistake. But this was one date she couldn't back out of. Craig had seemed somewhat astonished in accepting her invitation, but this morning in class he'd displayed no hostility toward her over the low grade she'd awarded the paper. And he had seemed almost eager when, after class, he stopped by her desk to confirm their appointment.
To calm her jittery nerves, Jean poured herself a couple of fingers of her "medicinal" Scotch then fixed herself a sandwich and ate it while her bath was running. She stripped hurriedly and got into the tub, soaked herself just as quickly and got out. She hesitated for a moment before selecting a dark blouse that buttoned down the front and a skirt that came not quite to her knees. In the hope of maintaining at least a semblance of the formality that the approaching possibly awkward meeting seemed to warrant, she pulled her hair back into the same austere , bun she'd worn her first class-day. She inspected herself quickly in the bathroom mirror, applied just a touch of makeup. As a last impulse, she put just a dab of perfume on her wrists and earlobes. She was just capping the little bottle when the doorbell rang.
A little qualm of apprehension which Jean tried to dismiss as silly, welled in her as she rushed to answer it. Then she opened the door and stepped back. Spontaneously she smiled and said, "Hello, Craig. You're right on time, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Craig nodded as she let him in. She led him to the living room and motioned for him to have a seat on the divan then asked if he would like a Coke. When he accepted,, she went out to the kitchen to get it. While she was there, she had another drink of whisky, this one considerably stronger than the previous one. As she returned with the Coke, she discovered that already she could feel a slight effect from the two drinks she'd had, manifested in a lightness in her head. She found Craig seated there with his paper spread on the table before him. She set his Coke down then went to retrieve several Thomas volumes she'd checked out of the library and went to join him on the couch where they would both be able to read the paper at the same time without having to pass it back and forth between them.
Then she bent forward and began to examine the first page. At the same time Craig bent his own head forward, moving just a few inches closer to the lovely blonde school teacher so that he could see the paper better. His thigh brushed softly against hers, and as it did, Jean couldn't help but recall that night so long ago that she and Jimmy had sat together on a couch not so very different from this one, a night that had marked a whole new life for her, a night from which she still had not completely recovered. And the memory prompted a little tremor of excitement to ripple through her, a little chill of imminent arousal to crawl teasingly up her spine.
Jean hesitated just a moment though even that was too long, before she moved her thigh away and turned to look curiously at the boy beside her. Though Craig was not as worldly as some of his classmates or at least did not appear to be, any boy who was working at his age must have at least some inkling of the facts of life. She couldn't help but wonder if that brief electrifying contact had been intentional and wonder how she should respond should she determine that it had. But a quick glance at Craig's face showed it to be impassive, almost blank.
Craig returned his eyes to the paper. He made a remark which Jean didn't even catch, some reference to the poet himself. He continued to study the paper and she continued to study him. She shuddered almost imperceptibly, marveling at his resemblance to her half-brother Jimmy. She wondered fleetingly what Craig would look like without his glasses, wondered if when they were removed, the resemblance would become even more profound. Then, trying to put the whole question from her mind, she returned her attention to the paper. But she couldn't concentrate on it, and as Craig brought up another point, she found herself unable to follow his line of thought. Instead she relaxed her thigh, letting it fall back against his, and how Craig looked up at her with a startled expression.
"About your grade, the "C" I gave you. I've already changed it in my grade-book. It's now officially an "A." She was not telling the truth. It was something she'd merely felt compelled to say. But she would change it tomorrow. She'd never really planned to leave it in the grade-book anyway. "That was all just... kind of a joke," she went on, feeling very ridiculous and vulnerable. "I waS'just somewhat vexed that you seemingly had complete disdain for the assignment I had given."
Craig nodded thoughtfully. "I guess I really can't blame you, Miss Sheridan. But I do appreciate your changing it to an "A."
The young boy stared at Jean in silence for a moment. He was looking at her face but then abruptly his eyes descended to the full swells of her breasts straining against the material of her blouse, causing the buttons to pull against the buttonholes. Then he looked abruptly away, appearing embarrassed. Watching him, Jean gritted her teeth in an effort at self-control. But she knew the strain was showing in her face when she lcjoked back at him.
"Is there something wrong, Miss Sheridan?" the boy asked with concern in his voice. Again his eyes flicked down her body.
Desperately she shook her head. "No, Craig. There's nothing wrong. But. .. would you do me one favor?"
"Of course, Miss Sheridan."
"Would you take off your glasses?"
"Looking puzzled, Craig removed the glasses, and as he did so, Jean's mouth almost dropped open wide. The resemblance was uncanny. Now, sitting there looking at her with confused excitement, he seemed almost the double of her own half-brother. It seemed almost as though it were Jimmy himself she beheld here before her. But it was not the same Jimmy who had taken her virginity. His face did not have that worldly knowledge Jimmy possessed at sixteen. Craig looked like a younger virgin version of her brother. Now the tables were turned, and in her present delirious state, she thought it was somehow the workings of the hand of fate, a balancing of the contradictory forces of nature.
"Is there something wrong?" Craig repeated.
"No." Again Jean shook her head desperately. "No, Craig. Do I frighten you?"
"No, ma'am. But ... something's happening to me, being so close to you like this."
Then Jean's hand reached out as if it had a mind of its own. She touched Craig's longish hair, stroking it gently then dropping her hand to the back of his neck to turn his face up toward hers. Then she pulled his face slowly forward until her own soft lips brushed against his sweet young mouth and again she felt a sudden spark shoot through her, igniting her flesh and blood. And as she held his mouth to hers, Craig made no effort to resist.
Jean's passion, nurtured for so long in her secret fantasies, seemed to know no bounds. There was nothing she would not do for this ... this child, she admitted to herself. If he would only respond to her, there was nothing at all in the world she would refuse him now.
The aroused blonde teacher moved suddenly closer on the couch to the surprised teenager, pressing her thighs tightly against his. Her lips tftill covered his mouth and now her tongue darted suddenly outward between his parted lips and teeth. She was rewarded by the touch of his tongue against her own. Then with a start of delight, she realized that Craig's was swirling around of its own accord, now working its way into her mouth and shooting far back toward her throat, searching hungrily.
Her ecstasy now, her lewd anticipation, was as great as that night she remembered from so long ago. She cared for nothing, nothing in the whole world but the fulfillment of her obscene desire to be possessed and violated by this handsome young boy. Her mind whirled in her confusion as the forbidden sparks of joy darted through her body. Even now, finding it hard, to believe it was really happening, she realized that to fight her building passion would be futile. Then she forgot the possible consequences entirely. She took Craig's hand tight in hers and placed . it firmly on the full throbbing mound of one of her breasts, moaning deep in her throat as she felt his strong fingers begin to almost mechanically stroke and tease her sensitive flesh.
But that wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. She had to have more, more of the delightful tantalizing sensation, and hurriedly she reached up and began to flick open the buttons down the front of her blouse.
"Put your hand in here," she whispered"^ huskily now, again taking the boy's hand and guiding it into the dress and under the flimsy white lace of her brassiere cup.
Reveling at the touch of his hand against her naked flesh, Jean was swiftly becoming lost in a lurid excitement, trapped by her own lust in this compromising and immoral entanglement. But even the youngster's now insistent stroking of her warm white skin and the teasing of his thumb and forefinger at the hard little bud of one of her nipples seemed pallid by comparison to the fantasies that had been raging all week in her lust-crazed consciousness. Her body demanded more and more. Her body demanded everything, full and complete satisfaction.
Craig stroked eagerly at the tender flesh of one of the aroused student teacher's breasts; then, seeming to sense what would please her even more, he moved his hand into the cup that covered her other breast, cupping it even more firmly now in his own palm until she moaned aloud. Then as he again began to tweak at the tender little nipple, he heard a soft cry rise in her throat.
"Did I hurt you?" he gasped, looking at her with an anguished face.
"No," Jean sobbed. "NO, God no! It feels good! It feels wonderful!"
Reassured, 'he continued. Now Craig's fingers teased and taunted even more fervently at the rigidly swelling little nipple, and already a fever of excitement was beginning to grip the aroused older woman. "Oh God!" she whimpered. "Oh dear God!" She had to get her clothes off. She had to be completely naked, completely vulnerable to the youngster's building lust. She had to hold him close, much closer than she could hold him now, and with nimble fingers, she hastily undid the rest of the buttons of her blouse then loosened the snap at the side of the skirt.
A startled expression crossed Craig's face as she pushed the blouse off her shoulders, and then that was followed by a lewd grin as she lifted her buttocks and began to shimmy out of her skirt. She left it clinging at her ankles and reached behind her back to unsnap her brassiere, letting the light garment fall away from her torso to completely reveal the firmly uplifted mounds of her naked breasts.
Craig had never experienced anything like this before in his life. This was really going to be something. He never imagined the real reason Miss Sheridan had given him that "C," but now it was obvious. And he couldn't wait to tell the other boys at school what had happened.
Jean stared at the teenage boy with desire-filled eyes, seeing again the almost perfect image of her half-brother. Then, hardly aware of what she was saying, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Suck me, Craig. Suck my breasts and nipples."
Again Craig looked startled, but only for a moment. Then he grinned happily and nodded his head. "Yes, ma'am. Ill be glad to."
He hesitated but a moment then his head came quickly forward and he fastened his mouth hungrily on one of the firm little nipple-buds, barely touching it as he first began to suck. Jean groaned out her pleasure and tangled her hands in the boy's long smooth hair, pulling his face even closer to her naked torso. Now her whole body was like a roaring furnace as her pitched emotional state allowed her to recreate the ecstasy that had surged through her body when she'd made love to Jimmy so many years before. But she still wasn't satisfied. Craig had to be naked, too.
She still had to see his whole virgin body naked before her.
"Craig," she murmured. "Oh Craig. You've got to take your clothes off, too."
Blushing, the young boy removed his lips from the woman's breasts, looking hungrily at her body and decided that no matter how embarrassing what she'd ask of him might be, it would be worth it to Jiim in the long run to comply. There was a terrible erection throbbing up in his Levi's that was about to drive him crazy. Jesus, he wondered. Would she let him do everything to her? Would she let him fuck and everything like the guys at school were always talking about?
The mere idea of it sent shivers chasing up and down the youngster's spine, causing his boyish cock to stiffen even further in anticipation. The whole school was talking about this new blonde-haired student teacher. She was the sexiest thing that had turned up in a long time. He could hardly believe this was really happening to him, and the aroused woman, sitting there before him under his penetrating gaze, wearing nothing but her thin white panties, stared at him hungrily, trying to wipe away the last of his inhibitions.
"Here, Craig," she said in a lusty yoice. "Strip me completely naked first if that will make you feel less nervous about taking your clothes off in front of me."
"Gee, Miss Sheridan! Can I?"
The youngster hesitated but a moment. Then he slipped his fingers beneath the narrow elastic waistband of her panties and pulled them slowly down. The sensuously excited blonde raised her hips up from the couch to make the boy's task easier, listening with bated breath to the rustling of the fabric as he drew them off her tightly rounded ass-cheeks and down her thighs to fall to the floor.
Jesus, Craig thought. She really was gorgeous. And now he knew he was going to get her. She was going to be his, and he was feeling less embarrassed by the second. He didn't care any more. He couldn't help himself. He had to have her, and he wasn't even sure how long he could hold back. And even if he was still a little scared, he knew he couldn't let that stop him. He had to run his hands over her soft smooth skin, had to explore that little mound of sparse pubic hair. He had to fuck her. Then once he'd told the other guys at school about that, they wouldn't think of him as just an intellectual punk anymore.
Craig hesitated but a moment longer then stood up abruptly and began hastily stripping off his clothes. Now the lust-crazed student teacher watched him with eyes that were mere slits of sexual need, a little sigh of delighted relief escaping her half-parted lips as she saw his trousers and jockey shorts drop and his slender young penis spring forth in a hard throbbing erection.
Then he dropped back down beside her on the couch, reaching out eagerly toward her. He let his hand trail softly over the smoothness between the lush twin mounds of her breasts then down lower across her belly, descending at last to the swollen hair-fringed mound between her thigns. As he did so, the naked woman gasped at the new flames of passion shooting through her loins and breasts. She let her legs go limp, and she collapsed to a half-reclining position on the couch, parting her thighs and splaying them out wide to each side.
Craig leaned forward over her, trembling, transfixed by the obscenity of this completely exposed view of the blonde student teacher's cunt. She was a natural blonde, he realized. The hair down there was as beautiful a golden color as the hair on her head, and the sight of it inspired a further surging of his cock, a tightness in his aching balls that could not be denied.
"Miss Sheridan," he gasped in a nervous, trembling voice. "I want to fuck you."
Now Jean closed her eyes completely in the delirium of her lust. He had said it! This young boy had said those magic words to her. He wanted to fuck her, and she couldn't have been happier at that moment if it had been a proposal of marriage from a man she loved. She shivered with sheer ecstasy at the lewdness of the word coming from his innocent lips, further excited by that very shocking incongruity. And as she relished the prospect of what he'd demanded, she nodded her head, purring in only the faintest voice, "Yes Craig. Oh yes. I want you to fuck me, Craig. I want you to! I want it! Fuck me!"
Now the boy's hands slid further down into the inviting obscene warmth of her inner thighs into that soft golden pubic hair to brush eagerly along the wet pink slit of her cunt.
Jean moaned as the fingers gently teased the sensitive moistened flesh, moving slowly and maddeningly up and down her pinkly glistening pussy-slit. Then a shudder shook her nakedness at the first sudden tantalizing contact with the blood-inflamed button of her clitoris. The young boy sensed her response and began to stroke eagerly at the hardened little nubbin throbbing beneath his fingers. Jesus, he thought. Now she really was getting hot. And he could hardly wait a minute longer. The fire that burned in his inexperienced young cock was consuming him, and he could already feel the churning of his sperm in his now heavily swollen testicles.
His breath coming in deep strained gasps, Craig placed both his hands on the soft wetness of Miss Sheridan's eagerly parted inner thighs, pushing them even farther out to expose more perfectly the narrow pink slit of her vagina. He probed greedily over the glistening little orifice that seemed to quiver as if in invitation to the continued teasing. Then, sighing deeply with his building adolescent desire, the eighteen! year old plunged his middle finger suddenly between the lustfully sucking lips and wormed it slowly up into the clasping tightness of his teacher's vagina.
The squirming woman moaned again and again as the youngster probed deeper and deeper up into her loins then began slowly to finger-fuck in and out between her parted thighs. She writhed in heated tension on the couch, reclining completely on her back, beginning to hunch and undulate her buttocks in response to the maddening penetration. Then she whimpered in surprise and disappointment as Craig withdrew his obscenely probing finger.
Jean opened her eyes and shook her head in desperate protest. "No, Craig. No. Don't stop now. Please don't stop now."
The lust-tortured teacher waited breathlessly, little twitches of frustration shaking her naked body. Then nervously the boy kneeled between her parted thighs, holding himself poised and trembling above her.
"What is it, Craig?" she purred softly. "What's the matter?"
He shook his head. "I... I'm not sure what to do now, Miss Sheridan."
For the briefest instant something in Jean almost froze. A twinge of sanity and regret held her back from this' final corruption. She closed her eyes, drifting in a whirlpool of mixed feelings, of sorrow and hunger, madness and remorse. Then she reached slowly downward and closed her trembling hand about the stiff slender penis, still hesitating. Then his words came reverberating into her ears like far away thunder, "Help me, Miss Sheridan. Please help me. Show me what to do."
"Oh my God, yes," Jean gasped. The poor child. Wrong as what she was about to do now was, it would be an even greater injustice if, after leading him this far, she were to suddenly stop here at this moment of their mutual height of passion. And that was her justification, her rationalization. A . moment later, Jean forgot her hesitance completely. She let the boy's words play over and over in her ears, that final proof of her original supposition that he was a virgin. She told herself, and she knew it was not a lie, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He wanted her as much as she had wanted Jimmy that fateful night so ago. He wanted her to be the first woman in his life, and that honor drained the last of her willpower to resist, wiped out the last semblance of sensibility from her mind, leaving her nothing but the overwhelming need to feel this youths virile young cock deep up inside her warm clasping cunt.
Then, arching her hips up from the couch, the trembling blonde student teacher guided the hotly pulsing rod of cock-flesh up to the moist and swollen cuntal opening between her lewdly parted thighs. She felt an unspeakable ecstasy which blotted all else from her thoughts as the boy's tender penis touched and teased at the opening of her pussy. Then with an instinctively powerful lunge the young boy drove his buttocks forward; the blood-engorged head of his cock popped up in between her slickened pussy lips, driving, relentlessly up between the clinging cuntal walls to push all resistance aside.
As Jean reached down to cup his buttocks and hold him tightly to her, Craig lay still for a moment. Then unable to hold himself back, any longer, he began suddenly to move, grinding slowly in and out in sudden jerking strokes, swiftly increasing his motions, building and building until his straining pelvis moved powerfully against his teacher's belly with each urgent forward thrust of his body, and beneath him, the young woman arched and gyrated her naked ass-cheeks in frenzied abandon, mewling out her pleasure and want in an obscene tirade
"Yes, yes. Fuck me, Craig. Fuck me harder! Fuck me deeper!"
Now her hands jerked wildly at his squirming buttocks. Now they danced up and down his back. Now her fingernails clawed like a cat's at the skin of his spine. Then she moved lower to again seize the white mounds of his buttocks, to cup them tightly and pull his blood-swollen cock deeper and deeper into the aching depths of her lewdly surrendered pussy.
And as her climax gradually approached, Jean felt the devastating waves of ecstasy sweeping like wind over her voluptuously thrashing body. "Oh God," she moaned. "Oh God! It's good! I'm going to cum. I'm going to! I'M CUMMING, CUUMMMIINNGG!"
The lust-maddened naked blonde gave herself up at last, surrendered completely to the surreal pleasure of the moment, feeling the warm orgasmic wetness seep forth abundantly in her loins, bathing her throbbing cuntal passage with slickening moisture.
At almost the same instant she felt the terrible tension inscrease in the young boy's body as Craig zoomed to his own explosively shattering climax, arching his buttocks up one last time and then plunging his spurting penis so deeply it seemed to fill every inch of her wildly spasming cuntal orifice.
"I'm cumming too!" he groaned. "I'm cumming too, Miss Sheridan!" A deep shudder shook the boy's body as though to match her own continued bucking undulations as his warm seminal fluids spurted forth to unite with the pungent searing wetness deep inside her vagina.
The impassioned couple, junior high school student and student teacher, clung to one another for a long and unforgettable moment. Then with a last deep sigh of contentment, young Craig let his body go slack, and he rolled -- hardly more than half conscious now -- from the still quivering figure of his ninth-grade teacher. Giving out with a little gasp of remorse at the loss of contact with his body, Jean purred softly and distantly, "Oh Craig. Oh Craig." Then she closed her eyes. Her breasts heaved as she tried to cateh her breath. Those last few moments she'd completely forgotten to breath.
Jean knew somehow . . . dimly . . .vaguely . . . that Craig was pulling his clothes back on. She knew he would be gone in a few minutes. She could understand that now he would want be alone. He would need some time to think, to adjust to his new status. She opened her eyes for a moment, gazing at him Wearily, then she closed them again. She almost slept. It seemed she was just drifting off when she heard the click as the door was closed.
It was only then that reality returned. She sat up suddenly, staring across the room at the door that had shut behind the young boy she'd just corrupted and violated. A small teardrop filling each of her eyes, she gazed silently after him. They spilled lightly down her cheeks as she lowered her head, looking down almost in disbelief at her own obscene nakedness, realizing the seriousness of what she'd done, astonished, ashamed, almost sick -yet satisfied as she'd rarely been in her life.
Chapter Four
She'd fallen asleep again, not long after Craig's departure, right there where she lay naked on the couch. It was only by chance or by habit, that she awoke the next morning without the aid of her alarm, in the same place. She looked with disbelief around the room, then down at her aching body over which she'd managed to spread her blouse and skirt in her sleep. In a fit of anger she tossed both garments away; for a few moments she lay there on her back, completely exposed, panting as she remembered the way Craig Williams had fucked her until she'd almost gone out of her mind, remembering the way she'd led him into it, seduced and corrupted him. She moaned quietly then, feeling weak, still exhausted, slightly dizzy.
Oh dear God, Jean thought to herself. What had ever possessed her? What had driven her to the lewd and obscene seduction of oije of her own students? She searched for an answer to her question and at last found one and was forced to discard it as tpo shocking to face. For a few moments longer the naked young teacher merely lay on the couch, trying to gather her strength for the day that lay ahead, wondering how after what happened last night she could ever face her class again. Then she sat up, looking at her breasts, her thighs, her golden-haired loins. She now found the sight of herself disgusting. She found her own sexuality repulsive, degrading. Yef it was this same white body that she'd gjyen last night so freely. She had welcomed Craig's lewd ravishment, thrilled W his obscene caresses. And now she was filled with regrets.
Then she struggled to her feet. She started to pick up her clothes but instead kicked them aside angrily. She went to the bathroom, debating whether to use the shower or the tub. But she knew if she drew a hot bath and actually got in it to soak, she might not even have the courage to get out. Instead, she chose the shower,-ice cold. She stepped under it and washed herself quickly then emerged and dressed and put a pot of coffee on the stove.
As she drank it she wondered again how she would ever face her class today, how she would face young Craig. But in spite of all her terror and shame some inner voice told her that somehow she must go on. She couldn't let this one mistake, this one accidental slip, ruin her whole life. She hesitated to the last minute then left her apartment and got in her car and drove through the morning rush hour traffic to the south side of town" and Benjamin Franklin Junior High School.
Inside the shoddy old building, in the gloomy, shabby hall outside the door of the classroom, Jean hesitated again, now almost terrified of walking in there and finding Craig sitting there at his desk in the frorft row. The second bell rang then as she continued to hesitate, the noise reverberating through the hall. Still she waited. Then she took a deep breath, trying frantically to control the tremblings of her body. Her legs felt like spaghetti and she feared they would buckle under her before she reached the desk. Then somehow, almost on a momentary impulse, Jean opened the door and went through. Once she'd done that, it was too late to turn back, and for lack of any other alternative, she succeeded in walking to her desk and taking her seat. It took her a moment longer to get the courage to raise her eyes; then gradually the conversation died away. She gazed over the eighteeni year old students, seeing them as a blur before her. Then she singled out Craig, in his place there in the first row, looking every bit as pale and afraid as she imagined herself. And seeing that, her own fear suddenly left her. She realized that, though it should have been impossible after what had happened, she would after all be able to carry on in spite of herself.
That morning Craig barely said a word in class, and only fleetingly did he look at her. She didn't call on him during the discussion, nor did she, after the bell rang, speak to him as he was leaving. She merely sat where she was, experiencing a deep inner relief. She knew that already she'd gotten through the hardest part, and once today was ended, she would have the whole weekend to recover.
By Monday, Jean was feeling indeed much better. Craig seemed to have recuperated, too. He did do some talking in class, and several times their eyes met. Once Jean even managed to smile at him, and he smiled back. She dreamed then that somehow what had happened would eventually be forgotten. But she should have known it wouldn't be that easy. She should have known her own body would betray her again, just as it had before.
The first really visible signs of her imminent collapse appeared On Tuesday. She should have recognized them immediately. By Wednesday it should have been apparent to Jean that she had a serious problem to deal with. The respite her secretly lusting flesh had been granted as a result of her interlude with Craig Williams had ended. On a purely physical level, her need had returned. Her body, satisfied once, demanded satisfaction again. And as translated from her body to her mind, this need was manifested in the fantasies. The fantasies returned, they were with her always, even more vivid and perverse and devastating than before:
She would lie naked on her back on the couch, just as she had that first night. Also naked, kneeling over her, Craig would gaze hungrily down at the open-splayed invitation of her cunt. Gently, so gently, he would place his hands on the quivering flesh of her white inner thighs, his thumbs on the sensitive edges of her moistened cuntal lips. He would draw them slowly open, revealing gradually the inner treasures of her pussy, completely exposing the little rosy bud of her clitoris.
The agony of waiting would be almost more than she could bear lying there beneath him. Then he would lower his head slowly toward her belly. He would slide down on the couch, poising his face between her thighs. Suddenly his tongue would flick outward and into lewdly tantalizing contact with the tiny throbbing protuberance there between her exposed pussy-lips. He would lick it, just as that one night he had licked the hard buds of her little nipples. He would rekindle again those flames that had consumed her ...
Just thinking about it was enough to rekindle the flames. The lurid visions were with Jean wherever she went now. In class she would drift away. Something would startle her and snap her back, and she wondered shamefully if anything in her expression had hinted at what was going on inside her. At night, sitting alone in her apartment, afraid to even go out, she suffered hysterically. Her sleep was a series of erotic dreams.
By Thursday a week had passed and she was almost going out of her mind. By Friday evening she could stand it no longer. She started to masturbate; then she changed her mind. She decided, in her frenzy, to do something she had never done in all her years. She would go out to the campus, to a restaurant or maybe even a bar. She would see if she could get herself picked up by a man.
Jean put on her most daring miniskirt and a thin sleeveless sweater. She wore no brassiere, and the material clung almost lewdly to her breasts around the little visible protrusions of her nipples. She wore no nylons, just a pair of sandals on her feet, Beneath the short skirt she wore her skimpiest sexiest lace panties. She applied her perfume generously. She let her hair hang loose and free over her bare shoulders. Before leaving her apartment she had a generous drink of her whisky. Then she went out and got into her car and drove toward the main drag that ran alongside the campus proper. She was trying to decide where she should go as she was stopped by a red light as she prepared to turn on the drag, itself. She had determined she would have her best chance at a bar several blocks, down the street, a place frequented primarily by faculty and graduate students, with a few fraternity members on occasion. Then, waiting for the light to turn, Jean's eyes widened as she saw the long-haired bespectacled boy standing in the crosswalk before her, staring dazedly through the windshield at her.
It was Craig, and recognizing him, Jean realized that it was only natural enough that she should find him here. It was eight-thirty; the restaurant where he worked was just up the street. It couldn't have worked out any more perfectly if she had planned it herself. She hadn't planned it! She hadn't even thought about it, not even subconsciously. It was an accident. A coincidence. An evil twist of fate.
The light changed. Behind Jean's car, a horn honked. Still staring at her, seemingly stunned, Craig moved slowly away. The horn honked again. Then on sudden impulse, Jean leaned over and opened the door. "Craig," she called. "Come on. Ill give you a ride home."
As tiie horn beeped again, the boy hurried back and got into the front seat beside her. Jean pulled onto the wider, busier street just in time to make the light. Acutely aware of the boy's presence beside her, Jean stared straight ahead, trying futilely to concentrate on her driving. She didn't think in terms of the direction toward the south side where he lived. She concerned herself only with the fact that she was driving away from her apartment, directly away from it. If she drove toward it, if she got anywhere near it, she knew what would happen. She went for several blocks then was stopped by a light As she turned, she caught Craig staring at hef breasts and her almost completely exposed thighs. He looked away quickly, embarrassed. The light changed and Jean pulled forward. Then, still not really thinking of what she was doing, she took the right of the fork in the road and now recognized that she was driving toward the small lake at the north edge of town.
Self-consciously, she glanced again at the boy beside her, to find him .again staring hungrily at her, "What am I doing?" Jean asked with a nervous little laugh. "Fm going the wrong way, aren't I?"
"Well, you're ... uh... you're going the opposite way from my house," Craig stammered. "But..."
"But what, Craig?"
He was too nervous to even face her. "I don't know. Nothing."
Watching him from the corner of her eye, Jean managed a smile. "I guess, since we've come this far, we might as well drive back alongside the lake and catch the expressway. What do you think?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Craig. "That's probably the easiest way to get there now."
They drove on in silence. In a few moments the lake loomed before them like a flat slick mirror reflecting the long beams of moonlight. Jean took the road running along the water, continuing for about half a mite before she pulled off onto a deserted concrete parking area. Knowing what she was doing was madness, she flicked off the ignition. It was crazy. It was insane. Again she was flirting with disaster. But now that she had Craig beside her, she couldn't bear to give him up so quickly. She couldn't bear to take him straight home and drop him off with hardly a word. She needed his company, she longed for and needed it. And here they were alone and the night so 'beautiful...
The already dangerously aroused blonde gazed in silence out toward the water for a moment. "Well," she said in a soft voice. "Here we are."
"Yes, ma'am. Here ... we are."
"Let's ... let's just sit here for a while. All right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Craig said, trembling, hardly able to contain his breathing.
Jean leaned back against the seat, inhaling the fresh cool air of the night. She felt wonderful now. For this brief moment she felt wonderful, happy, felt-even as if she wasn't doing anything wrong. It seemed so perfectly innocent, so perfectly natural for her to be here with Craig. And as she turned to gaze out of the corner of her eyes at the young boy, she was again struck by his uncanny resemblance to her half-brother. Yet strangely, and for a reason she had not quite fathomed, that hardly seemed important anymore. She liked Craig now for himself. She wanted him for himself, for who he was. But tonight she would ignore that, she vowed. She would not further corrupt this young boy tonight. In a few minutes she would take him home. Then, if she still felt the way she had earlier, she would do what she'd come out to do in the first place.
Her body quivered slightly with the intensity of her feelings, and as she thought of Craig, as she dwelled on the emotional bond she now felt with him, she felt a renewed excitement begin to stir of its own accord in her loins. But she told herself that was all right. It wouldn't hurt her. She would control it until she'd taken him home. She could do that in the knowledge that if she needed to, she could attract a man, an adult who did not have to be corrupted, who was not for her forbidden.
But the excitement increased gradually. She was hardly aware of it, or aware of what she wa& doing as she inched slowly over on her seat toward" Craig as she absently dropped her hand to the boy's thigh and stroked teasingly along on the outside of his Levi's.
Craig's sudden start of surprised pleasure made the lovely blonde teacher's body tingle with suppressed desire. There was an undeniable warmth spreading through her now. It seemed to start at the very center of her being and flow outward over all the supple softness of her immodestly clothed body, over every tingling inviting inch of her flesh. Then she became aware that there was a hint of moisture between her legs, and the sudden dawning of that realization caused her to suck her breath in harshly.
"Oh God," she whispered to herself, aware that the youngster had jerked his head sharply toward her, feeling his eyes descend from her face to her voluptuously straining breasts. She hadn't wanted it this way at all! She'd only wanted to be with him, wanted to prove she could trust herself alone in his company. She'd only wanted to dream that perhaps someday the two of them could be merely friends. But she knew now that she couldn't control what was happening to her body beneath the flimsy seductive sweater and skirt she wore. She had to do something, she had to have some kind of relief from her all-consuming lust. And in her deliriously building passion, she could only justify that realization by telling herself that at least if she didn't do what she'd done before, if she didn't actually let Craig fuck her, afterward she could feel that still she wasn't completely rotten. She couldn't feel that way again, she might lose her mind with sheer guilt. But she had to have something, some kind of contact, dangerous as that might be. And that contact, shocking as the thought was, had to be with his cock.
Then, punishing herself, Jean thought she'd hit upon the perfect solution to her problem. She narrowed her eyes, turning her head slowly to gaze down at the crotch of Craig's Levi's. Unconsciously, she flicked out her tongue to moisten her soft inviting lips. Then she looked at his face. "Craig... Craig, I want to do something for you. I want to do something with ... my mouth."
He was momentarily stunned. Then a lascivious lust filled his eyes. He nodded. "Yes," he croaked, barely able to even speak. Then, his fingers trembling excitedly, he leaned back against the seat and the opposite door of the car and started to slowly and obscenely draw downward on the zipper of his fly. "Yes," he managed. "Yes, Miss Sheridan. Do it to me like that. With your mouth."
Jean closed her eyes, shuddering. Then she eagerly reached out to the boy beside her, slipping her hand into his fly and her fingers inside the cotton fabric of his jockey shorts to maneuver his already rigidly erect young penis out to freedom. She narrowed her eyes, looking hungrily down at the hard-throbbing cock, beginning to stroke it softly as her own body was enveloped in the wanton flames of desire.
"Oh Craig," she breathed then bent her head swiftly down. The lust-driven blonde stifled a moan, and a little quiver of passion darted through her aching loins as she parted her lips to close them over the blood-engorged head of the squirming youngster's pulsating cock. She felt him tremble from the contact, his movement answering her own growing excitement, and she swirled her tongue eagerly around the stiffened shaft of flesh before she let it slip from her mouth. "Do you like that, Craig?"
"Golly yes, Miss Sheridan," the boy groaned. "I like it more than almost anything."
The teenager's buttocks jerked in a spasm of excitement as Jean's tongue swirled and twirled around the desire-swollen shaft of his slender penis then found the tiny opening of the glans at the top to flick up a little tangy tasting droplet of oozing seminal fluid. Craig moaned out his ecstasy and anticipation as he watched Jean's long blonde hair cascade over his loins then reached suddenly down to run his fingers into her hair and draw her face even closer to her thighs, forcing her to again take the shaft of his cock in her mouth and lunging his hips up at the same time to drive it deeper into the warm wet cavern between her lips.
For a moment Jean thought she would choke as the rigid rod of youthful male flesh brushed almost to the back of her throat. She gasped for breath, reveling in her wanton masochistic pleasure, enjoying all the suffering and humiliation the suddenly aggressive teenager was subjecting her to. She began to suck more eagerly, her moist lips ovalled, her cheeks hollowing and expanding, and she was rewarded only by a further arching upward of the boys hips, an even harder thrust of his-palpitating cock deeper and deeper into the welcoming hunger of her mouth.
Craig's groans of pleasure were echoed by her own sputtered mewls. Jean knew that he liked what she was doing to him, and she liked it too. But she had to have something more. The fire in her own loins was unquenched. It was not even being fought. She had to have contact from him on her own genitals as she sucked him. She had to have his fingers on her clitoris and pussy.
Still sucking in wild abandon, Jean seized one of the boy's hands from the top of her head. She shifted the position of her body then guided it urgently down to the hem of the short miniskirt and up beneath it. "Put your hand in my panties and feel me up," she mumbled around the cock plunging into her mouth. 'Touch my pussy. Finger-fuck my pussy the way you did that first night."
Jesus, Craig thought. She was really begging for it. And he was only glad to give it. Flexing his cock deep in his beautiful teacher's mouth, he pushed her skirt completely up off her buttocks then slid his hand down into the tight elastic waistband of her panties, grazing through the soft golden pubic hairs to stroke up and down the narrow slit of her now wildly throbbing cunt.
Another racking shudder passed through Jean's body at the shame and degradation she was being subjected to. She wondered if anything could ever be more depraved than what she was doing now, but she sucked even more greedily at her student's pulsing penis, swirling her tongue again and again around its hot slender length. Then she felt Ms finger begin to tease at the tiny bud of her clitoris, coaxing it to quick rigidity so it quivered with need beneath his obscenely stroking fingers to send new thrills of delight streaking through her lustfully excited body.
Now completely lost in her passion, Jean swayed wildly on the car seat, her buttocks quivering, her whole body moving as her face met the lunging boy's cock plunging up into her mouth. She felt his fingers tease more eagerly at the small, lust-wet opening between her thighs, parting the lips as they began to ease up into her sensitive cuntal orifice and match her sucking movements with a deep sawing in and out between the clasping hair-lined lips.
She squirmed back and forth on his invading finger as the flames in her loins burned hotter. Her whole body ached and tingled with desire, her blood seethed and boiled as the young student's response to her continued masochistic sucking further increased. And she began to long for the imminent moment when the manipulations of her mouth on his cock would become more than he could resist, when the dam on his desire would break and he would lose the last remnants of control, and his hot adolescent cum would spurt forth to fulfill her most depraved and secret longings.
The lewdly undulating mouth of the impassioned school teacher sucked voraciously, wantonly, oblivious to all else except the cock that filled it and her own warm vaginal secretions beginning to seep down around her student's rapidly pistoning finger as she approached her own inevitable climax. She increased the gyrations of her lurching buttocks, working back and forth on the boy's violating finger until she knew she could contain her joy, knew she would cum within seconds.
And with that realization, Jean encircled her lips even more tightly around Craig's throbbing young cock-shaft. Then she felt a ripple of sheer ecstasy shoot through his body. He groaned, thrustirig deeper and harder into her surrendered mouth, his whole body trembling and jerking wildly. And then, not two seconds later, she tasted the first hot thick droplets of his cum shooting into her mouth. She swallowed hungrily, gobbling down every drop of his precious sperm.
At the same time, the teenager fucked into her cunt with his finger, displaying an expertise that belied his years, spearing deeper and deeper inside her clasping cuntal passage to send new waves of excitement rolling across her completely submissive and subjugated flesh, shattering and racking her as she drifted in a state of final and consuming oblivion.
Together the two of them rose to heights of ecstasy neither had ever known alone. There was a long final shudder of joy rippling through them back and forth from one to the other before they subsided in exhausted pleasure, and Jean heard Craig's deep satisfied sigh echoed by a deep sigh of her own.
She let his penis slip from her mouth and straightened up, gazing still deliriously out at the moonlight dancing on the lake. It was some time later when she found the presence of mind to pull down her skirt. Then she started the car and pulled back onto the lakeside road, by which they eventually reached the freeway which took them to the southern edge of town where the boy lived. At his suggestion, she stopped a block from his house and let him off after a brief but passionate good night kiss. Too satisfied and happy to bother feeling ashamed, Jean drove back to her apartment and parked outside.
As she was about to go in the door she noticed the special delivery letter sticking halfway out of the mailbox, retrieved it and saw it was from her half-brother Jim. She went quickly inside and eagerly opened it, scanning with near disbelief down the page. The letter explained that he was leaving his wife and coming back to the States. It said he would be coming to see her. Then her heart almost leapt to her throat as she read the last stunning lines.
My reasons for this decision are so complex I hardly dare try to explain them. But they involve you, Jean. I never thought and still don't think of you as a sister. You 've always been my lover and, since I was married, that mysterious "other woman " in my life. I don't know how it could ever work, you and me, in our society. But for my part, I have to see you, make love to you again after all this time, see if you want to give it a try.
I love you, Jim
Chapter Five
During the days that followed, Jean tried to tell herself that Jim's letter -was the herald of her own. approaching salvation. Jim hadn't specified the date of his return, though he said he would be on his way as soon as possible, that he would call her from the airport when he arrived. And when Jim got here, Jean told herself, everything would be all right. At last she would be able to escape the syndrome of lust for her half-brother's fourteen year old look-alike that was presently consuming her.
But in the meantime the lust remained. Her wanton sucking of Craig's cock had proved the catalyst to a profound transformation of the young boy's character. She could see in his bearing an increased confidence. With a twinge of jealousy, she watched him occasionally flirting with girls before and after class. He was more natural in the presence of the other boys, even the bigger, louder ones at the back of the room. And even the knowledge that Jim would soon be here did not quell her continued want for the young boy who so reminded her of her half-brother -- even more now than before. The transformation that had taken place in Jim, "Jimmy" at that time, before he'd seduced her was now mirrored in Craig. And she waited desperately for the time the young boy would make his first active move toward her. Somehow it seemed it had to be him who initiated their next interlude. She had been the aggressor before, now it was his turn.
It happened on Wednesday. Craig was leaving the classroom, laden down, with books, in the company of two of his new companions, Pete Harris and big, lumbering Butch Niermeyer. Jean sat almost trembling at her desk, watching Craig with unconcealed invitation and just hoping the other two boys wouldn't notice. The three of them walked past her, almost to the door, then Craig stopped.
"Just a minute, boys. I want to ask Miss Sheridan a question about a book I've been reading," he spid in a voice that was exaggeratedly strong.
"Yen sure, Craig," said Pete. "Well catch you outside."
Jean waited, filled with anticipation, as Craig let the other two boys go out the door, then walked slowly back to her. Now he looked her over without hiding his desire. "Hello, Miss Sheridan. I was thinking ... I might stop by your apartment tonight."
Jean smiled warmly. "Yes, Craig. I'd like to .. .seeyou."
"I thought so," the boy said, grinning mysteriously. "Ill come around after I get off work."
"Ill be waiting." Jean stared after the youngster as he walked toward the door, then just as he was about to go out she said, "Craig?" He turned, looking back at her. She bit her lip, hesitating. "Craig, you haven't said anything to ... your friends?"
He looked puzzled. "About what?"
"You know. About... us."
He smiled. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"
He watched her in silence for a moment, then turned and went out.
The waiting that night was almost unbearable. Jean sat on the couch and nursed a whisky, watching the minutes tick away on the clock. She finished the first whisky, then went to the kitchen for another. Eight came and passed. Then eight-thirty. Any minute now, she thought. But it was five minutes after nine before the doorbell finally rang and she got up and hurried to answer it, looking warmly down at the young boy as he came past her through the foyer and into the living room.
They faced each other in the center of the floor. The- youth's eyes wandered unreservedly over her body as outlined in her tight-fitting blouse and skirt. Then Craig stood on his tiptoes, reaching up to seize her shoulders, his nails digging almost painfully into her flesh through the cotton material. He pulled her aggressively to him, crushing her breasts against his chest, letting his hands rove down her back to squeeze and fondle the tightly rounded cheeks of her buttocks.
Already the slender blonde was trembling with uncontrollable lust, responding eagerly to the teenager's pawing hands, reveling in the rising of her perverted pleasure. Hungrily she lowered her face and pressed her lips to his, her tongue darting between his teeth to eagerly explore his mouth. Then, drawing back, she glanced down and saw the already rigidly looming hardness bulging up in his trousers and her hand moved swiftly down to find his throbbing cock. She stroked it forcibly, lewdly and sensuously, feeling it grow even larger and harder beneath her caress: A wild excitement flowing uncontained through her body, she unzipped his fly and inserted her hand in his Levi's, taking his rigid erection in her fingers, squeezing and tugging at it and raking her nails up and down so hard the young boy gasped aloud.
Jean was really breathing heavily now, already longing for the moment when Craig would begin to undress her, unbutton her blouse and reach his hand beneath her sheer white blouse, slip it into the skimpy cups of the lacy brassiere she wore to knead and fondle her soft white breasts, to tease and coax her nipples into hard-throbbing buds of desire, but just as she thought he was about to do this, he pulled suddenly away from her, looking at her in a way she'd never seen before during the times they'd been together.
"You're really hot tonight, aren't you, Miss Sheridan?"
Jean stared at her young lover in shame and anger. What had come over him? she wondered. Then she smiled, moistening her lips, and nodded. If Craig wanted to be aggressive tonight, that was in a sense what she'd been waiting for the last several days. She took it as a sign of progress on his part, of development, and she secretly gave the credit for the change to last week's lewd episode when she'd humbled herself to suck his cock until he'd ejaculated his hot load of sperm in her mouth.
"Yes, Craig. I'm really ... excited for you tonight."
"I call it hot," Craig said.
An image, a warning light, flashed in Jean's mind. She put it out and nodded seductively. "All right, Craig. I'm hot."
"What do you want to do?"
"I want to make love to you."
"Make love?" Craig asked, staring lewdly down where her skirt fell against the "vee" between her thighs.
A little shiver coursed through Jean's body. She knew what Craig wanted her to do. He wanted her to humiliate and debase herself before him. But the very idea of it only further excited her, and after everything else she'd already submitted to, she couldn't see what would be the harm.
"All right, Craig," she' said in lusty surrender. "I want you to fuck me, ravish me, despoil... despoil my naked flesh."
Craig grinned. "All right. Go in the bedroom and strip. I'll be there in a minute."
"But I want... I want you to undress me," Jean purred, happy to play the young boy'sgame.
"Some other time," Craig said flippantly. "Now go do what I told you. Get on your bed and put your ass on a pillow."
Astonished, unable to imagine where the inexperienced teenager had even gotten such an idea, Jean turned and walked slowly toward her bedroom, looking back over her shoulder at the still erectly exposed penis looming up obscenely from the open fly of Craig's trousers.
She went through the door, pushing it shut behind her though not bothering to slam it. Now she was going out of her mind with the anticipation of really being fucked by the youngster, genuinely taken, violated, used, and her stomach was churning with excitement as she quickly stripped off her blouse and then reached behind her back to unsnap her brassiere and completely free her straining breasts. She tossed both garments onto a chair near the foot of the bed, then hesitated, quivering, her full round breasts throbbing and swelling at their contact with the air.
Then she started as she heard Craig's voice and realized he was watching her through the crack in the door. "Take off the rest too. Drop your skirt. Arid the panties. I want to see you completely naked." He pushed the door open wide and stood framed in it, glaring at her.
The trembling blonde hurried and shed her skirt, then hesitated but a moment longer, relishing her own passionate and masochistic response to the lewd command, before slipping her fingers into the tight elastic waistband and working the panties down off the golden hair of her pubis with a sexy little wriggling movement of her buttocks,. Then she slid them down her thighs, stopping awkwardly to do so, stepped out of them and stood then completely naked and vulnerable before the young boy. Cringing with delighted shame, she awaited his next command. But his eyes had spent a long time roving up and down every contoured inch of the front of her body before he ordered, "Okay, turn around and let's see your ass."
Jean shivered almost fearfully. Now he was going too far. Yet she welcomed the indignities her arrogant young student was heaping on her and, feeling his eyes bore into her, feeling them almost like hands roving over and mauling her body, she turned her back to him, showing him her naked ass-cheeks and the forbidden little crevice running down between them. And now, in a wild flight of fantasy, she could almost feel his eyes stroking at the tiny puckered circle of her anus.
At last the degrading inspection was over. "All right," Craig said. "Now get on the bed." Shaking with relief, Jean stepped to the edge of it. She hesitated, looking with narrow eyes back at the fully-clothed youngster, then she retrieved a pillow from the head of the bed and placed it squarely in the center. She got onto the bed, lowering her naked buttocks to the pillow, reclining on her back and spreading her thighs so that her helpless little pussy was pushed up in the air in total vulnerability. As an innovation of her own she reached up with both her arms spread wide apart to seize the brass bars of the bedstead and completely arch and part her defenseless high-set breasts. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, and when she opened them again she saw that Craig was stripping off his clothes. A moment later, completely naked, he got onto the bed and knelt between her parted thighs.
"Now tell me again," he said] leering down at her. "What do you want me to do?"
"Fuck me," she purred. "I want you to fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."
The young student reached down to cup the two snowy peaks of her breasts in both his hands, squeezing and kneading them so brutally that Jean whimpered with mingled pain and masochistic pleasure, a pleasure so intense she hardly even dared to imagine it. Then she brought one of her arms down from the bedstead, placing her hand on the back of Craig's head and forcing his face down to the two parted, quivering mounds in an act of. aggression of her own, at the same time arching her breasts to thrust the nipple into his mouth. Then again she extended her arm above her head, little quivers darting over her flesh as he sucked and bit at her nipple so furiously that she cried out aloud. A whimper of furstration rose in her throat as he raised his head again, staring at her with wild eyes, then she could hardly believe it as the boy slid downward on the bed, his tongue trailing a searing path of fire over the warm skin of her stomach, licking down into her softly curling cunt-hair as he lowered his face between her thighs and right over her pussy. The position of her buttocks on the pillow and the wide extending-out of her thighs served to part the pink moist lips slightly, and it was almost more than Jean could bear when she felt his warm breath blowing softly through her hair that fringed them.
Oh my God, she thought, staring down at the boy with disbelief. This was too wonderful to be true. This was the fulfillment of her wildest and most desperate fantasy. "Oh yes!" Jean cried out, unable to contain herself any longer. "Eat me, Craig. Do it. Eat my pussy."
The boy leered up at her between the voluptuous mounds of her breasts. He grinned. "Beg me."
"I am begging," Jean sobbed. "I am begging. Do you want me to get off the bed and crawl on my hands and knees? Do you want me to kiss your feet? Just tell me what you want. Anything!"
"I just want you to make a promise. Promise me that tonight, after I eat you out, you'll do anything I tell you to."
Jean experienced a flash of sobriety, rationality. "What?" she gasped, looking at the boy suspiciously. Then she closed her eyes, her buttocks jerking spontaneously as he leaned lower and again breathed between the hair-lined lips of her cunt. "All right!" she gasped. "I promise. I promise I'll do anything you ask if you'll just go ahead and eat my cunt. I can't stand it. I CAN'T STAND THIS WAITING ANY LONGER!"
Without further hesitation or ado, Craig plunged. He placed his hands on the moistly throbbing edge's of the lust-crazed school teacher's moistened pussy lips. With his elbows he levered her thighs out until they were spread apart like the legs of a leeping from to completely expose the narrow vaginal furrow and even the small quivering bud of her clitoris. Lizard-like, his tongue flicked out, trailing slowly along the slit, up and down in the hair and warmth and moisture, worming gradually inwar#, up between the hotly pulsating walls of Jean's vagina.
The delirious blonde sobbed, basking in the ecstasy of a dream come true, gasping with her building sexual hunger at this maddening titillation of her secret genitals. This was the end of everything. This could have been the end of her life and if she died remembering it, she wouldn't have cared. Nor did she care, but briefly, as she heard the jangling of the telephone on the nightstand beside the bed. Without even opening her eyes she reached over and lifted the receiver before even the first ring was ended. She dropped it back into the cradle to break the connection, then lifted it again and let it fall from her hand to dangle by the cord off the nightstand and onto the floor.
Then she scissored her thighs suddenly tight around Craig's ears, holding and smothering him between them, squeezing his face tighter and tighter into her upthrust cunt, bucking her hips in violent contortions off the pillow as it wormed further and further up into her salivating pussy as if it were trying futilely to lick at the little nub of her cervix deep within. She moaned in an impassioned, distant-sounding voice as the boy grunted over her loins, his tongue slipping in and out of the clasping vaginal walls, rutting with his nose against the tenderly pulsing bud of her clitoris to urge it to even more desperate hardness.
Then again she spread her thighs wide apart, basking for a last fleeting moment in this most perverted joy she'd ever experienced, before she realized she couldn't stand it another second.
"That% enough, Craig. I can't take anymore. I want your cock. I want to be fucked by your cock in my pussy! Oh my God!"
Craig lingered just long enough to flick his tongue one last time against Miss Sheridan's erectly quivering clitoris, then raised his head and began to inch his body toward her, the lewdly flowing juices of her pussy dripping obscenely from his mouth and cheeks down onto the nakedly proffered mounds of her breasts. She shuddered as she felt the pressure of his blood-swollen cock poised hotly against her vagina, then began to twitch his buttocks frenziedly so the glistening tip of his penis prodded in little tentative, rapid jerks at the small tight entrance of her vulnerable loins.
Jean felt the exquisite and almost unbearable need Craig had awakened in her increase at the rapid jerking of the rigid cock-flesh against her soft cuntal hair and tingling lips of her pussy. Then, when she thought she could stand the waiting no longer, he shoved forward with greater urgency to intensify the maddening pressure. There was a faint stab of pleasing pain, a moment's resistance, then the excited cunt-lips slickly parted and the youngster's aching hardness shoved slowly up into the welcoming depths of her already orally ravished pussy.
Jean groaned with renewed excitement, with a lewd anticipation she had never imagined possible. The young boy probed deeper and harder into the narrow channel of her cuntal depths, stretching and widening it until she was gloriously filled. Her face was bathed in perspiration and an even more shattering delight floated through her body as she felt him reach down with both his hands to seize the two tautly clenched mounds of her buttocks and jerk them upward from the pillow on which they rested. Then she moaned as he pulled the two cheeks apart and even as he began sawing into her vagina with his cock he started to probe down between the naked ass-cheeks with his finger, searching out the most sensitive and forbidden little hole of her puckered anus.
The curious youngster poked cautiously at the tiny tight entrance, reaching across the separating membrane to spread a few droplets of his teacher's oozing vaginal secretions over it before he probed again, now harder, and with a surprising little pop found his finger embedded to the first joint right up into the hopelessly clenching nether hole.
Jean gasped with pain from the sudden unanticipated intrusion as the tight little ring of her anal flesh gave way. Then she lunged her buttocks up from the pillow in spontaneous retreat from the devastating sensation as she felt the finger worming relentlessly deeper, quelling all her futile resistance until it was buried to the joint and seemed to completely fill her all the way to the most sensitive and sacred depths of her rectum.
For a moment she quivered, her buttocks still held completely up off the pillow-. Then miraculously the pain began to subside and partly in exhaustion and partly in perverse curiosity she screwed her buttocks back downward against the lewdly invading finger even as the teenager's thinly haired pubis struck her own with a punishing downward thrust of his hips that drove his swollen coek far into her hungry vagina and sent wave after wave of pure licentious pleasure to course through her trembling loins in contrast with the continued rectal discomfort.
Then, as his finger and his lust-engorged penis began to move in unison, Jean completely forgot the pain, beginning to thrash and buck beneath the teenager in wanton delight, screwing her buttocks down on this humiliating impalement as if she longed to have him thrust his finger even deeper.
Now every nerve of the blonde school teacher's body seemed to tingle and burn as Craig quickened and intensified his thrusts, spearing in and out of her obscenely skewered orifices with all the force of his youth, his' tight little sac of testicles slapping between the widespread half-moons of her buttocks and against the sensitive membrane that separated the two simultaneously violated openings. She felt the warm vaginal moisture seeping down from her obscene cunt onto her straining buttocks, felt reality slipping from her grasp, her consciousness heightening as if in surreal vision as the first vague warnings of the oncoming storm of her orgasm appeared. She moaned ecstatically, beyond all thought and reason now, conscious of nothing but the primeval, dream-like lust that permeated every wicked cell of her nymphomanically thrashing body. And in her sheer consuming gratitude, she thrust her face down, craning her neck to cover her parted lips over Craig's mouth, shocked and even more perversely enraptured by the taste of her own cuntal lubricant on his breath and mixed with his saliva.
Craig exerted all the control he could manage, spurred to greater heights of accomplishment by the knowledge of the presence of the two boys he'd let into the other room while Miss Sheridan was undressing, knowing that even now they were listening to the squeaking of the bedsprings, the gasps and moans, the lewd panting and the slapping of sweating flesh against sweating flesh -- knowing this was his chance to prove his masculinity and prowess once and for all to both of them.
But he knew he couldn't hold off for ever. It felt too good and already he could feel the cum begin to strain and surge up into the canal of his rigidly throbbing, lustfully burning cockshaft.
"Look out, Miss Sheridan," he croaked, jerking his lips away from hers. "And as Ishmael said to Captain Ahab: Thar she blows!"
Jean was too delirious to even take note of the literary reference to what she considered one of the greatest American novels ever published. And she was too obsessed with her own building climax to respond with but the basest of answers the English language had to offer: "Oh yes! Fuck me, Craig! Fuck me as I've never been fucked before!"
Craig didn't wait a moment longer. With a mighty, violent lunge, he slammed into Miss Sheridan's spasming cunt, releasing all his controls as the cum welled up from his balls, shoved and surged its way up the length of his pistoning cock and out of the opening of the little glans at the tip. It spurted forth in a great torrent of heat and slickness to fill the warm greedy passage of Jean's pussy, lubricating it more to even further facilitate his continued inward thrusts. With an animal-like moan he ejaculated all the way up into her hotly sucking vaginal depths, far up into her quivering belly. His cock jerked and twitched in last fantastic frenzied as he felt her echo his release with her own completely abandoned response.
"Oh cum, you bitch!" Jean shouted at herself in the utter confusion of her consuming madness, feeling her orgasm begin even as she said the words to herself. It came sweeping like fire up from her ankles and down from the pineal gland in the back of her head. It was lightening striking the two buds of nipple that peaked her breasts and her body was the ground, absorbing all the devastating and destructive current of an angry universe. It raged through her loins and rectum and anus, finding momentarily brilliant focus in the lewd finger-fucking that continued beyond her sphincter and the most basic limits of human decency. It was a devastating, resounding thing, a blast of deafening music that went on and on in her ears and only faded gradually with the exhausted collapse of her buttocks crushing Craig's hand back down into the now obscenely soiled pillow on which she'd been propped.
She tightened her hands on the bars of the bedstead, stretching her whole nakedly sated body, again craning her neck to smother kisses of gratitude on the youngster's perspiring face. She closed her eyes, sighing.
The creaking of the door was a meaningless sound in her ears. Her eyes were lazily closed now. Her arms had moved slowly downward to entwine tightly about Craig's back, holding him to her in love and obedient gratitude. It was only his stirring, combined with a gasp that sounded as distant as the door, that caused her to open her eyes and turn her head to look. And she could hardly believe, not merely begin to comprehend, the sight that greeted her.
There were two more boys in the room, and even as Jean gawked at them in total confusion, they both began to hurriedly shimmy out of their clothes.
Chapter Six
Jean's whole naked body stiffened beneath the boy lying on top of her. She opened her mouth, staring in shock and shame at the two leering youngsters stripping off their shirts and trousers. A wanton stab of frustration course through her loins as Craig suddenly withdrew and rolled off her. The ravished woman's first impulse was to reach out and try to pull him back. Then the truth dawned on her like a ton of bricks.
"You told?" she gasped. "You told about what had happened between us?" Craig looked back over his shoulder. He looked somewhat helpless now, almost as if he were a little bit sorry. "You told! Oh Craig, I could kill you." He held his eyes on her for a moment longer, then he looked away as she felt the tears well into her own eyes and turned again to stare at the two more musclar and mature looking boys standing in her room in their jockey shorts, which were both already tented with obscene erections.
"What did you expect," Miss Sheridan?" Butch Niermeyer said in a voice that was incongruously tender compared to his almost brutish, though not unattractive appearance. "Most of the guys at Benjamin Franklin are fingering their next door neighbor's sister by the time they're old enough to hear rumors about the facts of life. And until he came to your apartment that first night, Craig hadn't ever even seen a woman's.. . pussy. Most of the guys thought he might even be a little queer. But after tonight he won't have to worry about that anymore."
Jean blinked. She looked again at Craig, who had gotten up from the edge of the bed and was pulling on his own jockey shorts. Then she returned her attention to Butch and his companion, Pete Harris. "I ... I know I made a mistake with Craig. But I'm not like this. I'm not really. And if you think you can come here like this and .. . and ..."
"And what, Miss Sheridan?" Pete asked.
In a sudden motion Jean reached over and pulled at the bedspread to tug it in a fold over her exposed body, "If you think you can come and. . , rape me. . . then you've got another think coming."
"I don't think we have to rape you, Miss Sheridan," Butch said. "The fact that we're here is enough. We've seen everything."
"And we don't wanna hurt you anyway," Pete put in. "We just want our share of the fun too. Hell, we're here beeause we like you. That's really why we came."
"Besides that, you promised," Craig said.
"Promised what?" Jean gasped, looking back at the young boy she'd once been so fond of.
"You promised you do anything I told you tonight if I'd eat your pussy." He wiped his lips. "I ate it. Now it's your turn, and I'm telling you I want you to let Pete and Butch fuck you."
"But Craig. You've betrayed me. And why? Why would you want to let them do it to me when you could have me for yourself."
"Because I... I..." Craig's voice faltered.
"Let me explain," Butch said. "First of all, nobody but you and us three boys are ever gonna know what's happening here. Me and Pete, we get plenty all the time. We don't have to impress anybody. But Craig, he was in bad shape. Now we're telling the other kids that Craig's getting ... cunt. We just don't tell who. We even tell that he's fixing us up with some too."
It was all too crazy, Jean thought. But she knew she shouldn't have expected it to be any different. She'd been so naive, so hopelessly naive, to even dream that a boy in Craig's position to keep it a secret that he'd been fucking one of the teachers. And she had promised. In a way, now that s.he sort of understood what was going on, and she felt she owed it to Craig to keep the bargain she had made with him. Because he had eaten her. He'd eaten her as she'd never been eaten by anybody but her brother Jim, and that was something she never could thank him enough for.
Then she started, feeling a surprisingly gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder above the bedspread that only partially served to cover her prone body. She turned her head and looked up to see Butch standing over her, looking down at her tenderly. "Come on, Miss Sheridan," he said in a soft voice. "You can see why it's got to be this way, can't you?"
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, I guess so." His hand still lightly touching her, Butch settled down onto the edge of the bed and it was only then that she saw he'd taken off his jockey-shorts while she wasn't looking. Now he was completely naked, the hard pulsing shaft of his exposed cock looming up almost twice the thickness of Craig's from his loins.
Then gently he pushed the cover off her, again completely exposing her voluptuosly naked body. His hand moved with light expertise down her shoulder, down to the fully inviting swell of one of her breasts. Then he stretched out, reclining on his back beside her, rolling over to lean toward her as his finger began to tease and tweak at one of her now soft little nipples, causing it to almost instantly swell to renewed rigidity. She realized with a twinge of unwanted anticipation that this was by no means a mere child as far as experience with women went. He was comforting her; she was greatful for his tenderness, for his nearness, for the little currents of electric delight coursing in pulsing rhythm out from the bud of her nipple.
The idea of being defiled again, not just once but twice more, caused a new and even more disturbing wave of depraved thrills to course through Jean's already ravished loins. Her breasts throbbed and it seemed that every nerve in her body tingled with a new charge of rousing excitement. She liked what Butch was doing to her. In spite of everything she wanted him to go on, she wanted him almost as much as she'd previously wanted Craig, and she let her body relax in open surrender, quivering softly as the hulking youngster trailed his fingers over her breasts and her tingling little nipples. Again he took one of them between his forefinger and thumb, rolling them so tightly she jerked. But seeing no objection, he continued, increasing the painfully tantalizing pressure until it seemed all the raging fire that had consumed her loins and body would soon be rekindled. And as he leaned and kissed her lips and trailed his tongue over the lobe of her ear and down the sensitive skin of her neck, the fire in her loins spread, sweeping out over her flesh, to the tips of her toes, to the tips of her fingers, up and down her thighs and legs, shooting through her veins.
Within moments Jean's need for this second young boy had become unbearable and she wondered distantly if she were not a nymphomaniac. She moaned in her mingled shame and surrender, crying out unintelligible little pleadings, invitations for him to take her. She closed her eyes, undulating her hips softly as she felt caresses move lower over her belly and down into the still moistly curling hair between her thighs, as she felt a tongue lick softly over her navel, darting teasingly into it to cause her to whimper aloud. Then, realizing that the teasing of her breasts still had not ceased, Jean opened her eyes and discovered that Butch had been joined by his friend Pete. Both of them were feeling her up, preparing her simultaneously. And after a moment's confusion she thought she understood.
Not only would they prepare her simultaneously. They would take her simultaneously. Both boys together, fucking her at the same time, incredible as it seemed, exploiting both her available orifices for their obscene use.
Yet in the aroused blonde school teacher's present state of delirious excitement, even that seemed only fitting. She thought about it, visualized it, and realized that she acutally wanted it. And once she'd gotten the idea in her head, she realized that nothing less than that would satisfy her. She did want them both; she wanted them bpth at the same time. And she reached out with both her hands, touching them, a hand for each of them to signal her willingness. Pete raised his head just enough to gaze over her breasts. "She saw on his face that he understood. She turned, narrow-eyed, to Butch. He did too. They'd probably even planned it this way.
Then Jean closed her eyes. She didn't want to look anymore. She didn't care to see which boy was doing what to her. She just wanted to feel, to experience. Anything and everything they might have in store for her!
Then it began. Something hard and firm and warm brushed against her mouth. Even without opening her eyes, she knew what it was, a big thick hard-throbbing male cock that belonged to one of the boys, probably Butch, though she was the last person to worry about that distinction now. All that mattered to her were the qualities, the blood-swollen head, the iron-rigid shaft, the little drop of fluid she tasted in the glans as she flicked out her tongue.
Then, hearing the boy groan in response to that lewd familiarity, Jean willingly ovalled her lips, parting them around the pulsating cock-head, swirling her tongue with renewed eagerness around the shaft as the young rod of flesh sank deep within the heated wetness of her mouth. Oh God, she thought. It was so good, lying here like this, not worrying, not caring, sucking this thick hard cock and feeling a second penis beginning already to slither up her inner thighs as the other boy positioned himself over her.
Still not opening her eyes Jean reached up with her hand to claw softly at Pete's back, urging him to lower his body on hers, the unrestrained invitation she displayed serving only to intensify that teenager's flaming passions. Her buttocks jerked and a gasp rose in her throat as she felt the hard young cock-head of that boy's penis come at last into contact with her still slickly moistened cuntal opening, pressing hard against the vaginal lips that were still soaked and dripping with her own love juices and Craig's warm wet cum. She parted her legs wider as Pete probed gently, and as she felt his hand move down to stroke along the quivering length of her lustfully lubricated cuntal slit to find searing contact with the quivering bud of her clitoris, she responded by sucking even harder and more voraciously at the cock which filled her mouth.
Already Jean was beyond all reason, aware of nothing but the depraved ecstasy of the moment, of her utter and exquisite degradation at the hands of her loving students. Now she realized as never before why it was she'd always wanted to be a teacher, and experience the rewards of her profession to a degree she'd never dreamed possible. Idly, she wondered if there even existed a limit to the depravity to which she would submit, to her own inner evil. But the thought drifted away. Besides, she didn't care anymore. It was time she discovered what she really was and learned to live with the truth to the best of her abilities. And nothing was of real importance but what was happening now, the wild uninhibited joy of being ravished by the two young boys at once.
The lust-inspired student teacher arched her buttocks upward in a rhythmic undulating motion, feeling the pressure of Pete's cock increase against the sensitive opening of her cunt. Then the last of the resistance gave way completely and the rigid shaft of flesh skewered slowly and relentlessly up into the deep tight vaginal passage until she was impaled to the hilt with teenage cock-flesh. As the boy began to move, she lifted her legs up off the bed and locked her ankles high above his bucking hips. His hands roved eagerly over her body as he began to fuck her in earnest, leaving trails of burning excitement behind them on her tingling skin. And all the while, Jean kept on with her sucking.
She gurgled deep in her throat; her cheeks expanded and contracted around the other plunging cock-shaft. She worked her head back a"d forth, burying her nose in the thick tangle of Butch's pubic hair, synchronizing her motions into a perfect complementary rhythm to the continued plunging of Pete's penis into, her surrendered loins. Then her pleasure was only further increased and a sheer moan of joy escaped around the hardness that filled Jean's mouth as Pete dropped his face to her breasts and began to suck and nibble at one of the throbbing pink nipples.
Still concentrating on her hungry sucking of Butch's cock, Jean was able nonetheless to pull Pete's head even more snugly to her breasts, tangling her fingers in his hair, arching her shoulders to force her urgently responding nipple even deeper into his mouth. Sensing her need and the pleasure she derived from this, the young boy fastened his teeth tightly over the small, erect bud, bitting down on it so hard a muffled whimper issued from the English teacher's throat even as Butch continued to fuck ruthlessly into her ovalled mouth. And as the youngster shifted to the nipple of the other breast to suck at it even more greedily, his cheeks hollowed and expanded just as Jean's mouth did around the pulsating cock that fillejd it, just as her pussy clasped tightly around the cock of Pete's penis to hold it deep up in her loins.
Now it was Butch's turn for a display of affection toward the aroused schoolteacher. He slid forward on the bed, running his hands into her hair, pulling her face so tight against his hairy loins that she could hardly breathe and shoving the lust-engorged hardness of his penis so deep, into her throat she thought she would choke.
All the lewd excitement that had coursed through her previously had been regenerated in Jean's lustfully thrashing body and she knew it was only a matter of time until she exploded in even wilder orgasm. She clenched her eyes tightly closed, still bobbing her head in a frenzied motion, undulating and gyrating her buttocks in wanton abandon in a desperate effort to bring the two boys to climax at the same time as herself. She wanted to give them all the joy they were goving her. She wanted to entire trio to cum in unison in a final display of togetherness that would bond them forever. And she strained and struggled, she became aware somewhere far in the back of her mind, of the presence, forgotten for a moment, of another boy in the room.
Craig must feel completely left out now.
The thought of him brought Jean back to the present for the briefest fleeting instant. It was Craig who was responsible for what was happening to her right now. If he hadn't talked to the other boys, she was sure they would never have had enough imagination to make a pass at her on their own. Nor would she have had the presence Of mind to submit. And she realized that, angry as she'd been with him before, it was still Craig to whom she really owed her thanks. And in the desperate delirium in which she wallowed, Jean searched desperately for some way in which Craig could also be made a part of the action.
There was only one thing she could think of, and though the idea was less than perfect, though it would hurt her, though it would constitute a greater humiliation than anything she'd previously suffered at the hands of her students, Jean did not think she had any choice but to employ it.
Giving a last voracious suck on Butch's swelling penis, the blonde teacher squirmed her head free of his strong grip and drew back, letting his penis slip from her mouth. Then she raised her head up, trying to peer past him so she could see the rest of the room.
"But Miss Sheridan," the boy croaked. "I haven't finished. I want to cum in your mouth like Craig did that night."
The poor dears, Jean thought. All three of them. Craig had even told them about-that, and now Butch just had to enjoy the same sadistic conquest. She turned her head and looked up at him and smiled.
"You can, Butch. Ill finish sucking you in just a minute and I promise you can cum in my mouth." In spite, or perhaps because of the sheer absurdity of her situation, Jean almost laughed. "We're going to all cum together. You. Me. Pete." Again she strained her neck to peer past the boys broad muscular torso. What she saw confirmed what she had feared.
Craig was sitting in the straight-backed chair with his hands cupping his chin, his elbows braced against his knees. He looked forlorn as a little league baseball player doomed to perpetually warm the bench. He still wore nothing but his jockey-shorts, and that near-nudity, not to mention the fully stiff erection of his penis looming up inside them, was completely incongruous with the look on his face.
"We're all going to cum," Jean repeated, emphasizing the word "all" so that Craig jerked his face sharply toward her, staring at her in confusion. Jean nodded, managing a warm almost motherly look even in her state. of frenzy, maintained by Pete's continued, obscene ravishment of her loins and breasts. "That's right, Craig," she purred softly. "You too. I want you to come over and finger-fuck me in my ass and I'll make you cum with my hand along with the rest of us."
Chapter Seven
Jim Sheridan stopped just short of the steps, turning his head sharply in the direction of the corner of the little one story duplex apartment, scowling suspiciously. He listened intently a moment, for a sound, any sound, that would confirm that he had not been hearing things a moment ago. But if a sound had followed that first only half-distinct phrase he thought he'd heard, it was drowned out by the sound of the taxi which had delivered him to Jean's address from the airport. The car squealed around the corner of the next intersection, braking, gearing down, then spinning away with the ribbing of the souped-up motor the driver must have had installed in the vehicle for his own amusement and at his own expense.
Then the sound died away and Jim waited, listening. Now he heard nothing but a murmur, or a rustling. It was hard to even be certain it was coming from inside this building, and in any event he didn't even know which of the two apartments his half-sister occupied. But he was going to find out pretty damn quick, and he was going to find out who'd lifted that receiver off the hook when he'd phoned from the airport, then replaced it to break the connection, then removed it again and left it off to prevent Kim from getting any of his subsequent calls through. He was also going to find out what that crazy sound was that he'd heard over the line for just a moment when the phone had first been answered. Jim had had an almost sickening feeling in his stomach ever since he'd left the airport. It wasn't like Jean to leave a phone off the hook, especially when she should have known that he was likely at any time to be arriving and calling her up as he'd promised. He had a feeling she might be in trouble, and just hoped he wasn't too late.
Jim left his suitcase on the sidewalk where he'd set it down and hurried the rest of the way up to the steps. He looked at the names above the doorbells, started to ring his sister's, then had second thoughts. After another moment of hesitation he descended the steps and hurried alongside the little flower garden around the corner to the side of the house. Here he heard an even more distinct sound, some horrible wailing like the crying of a cat in heat, and now he hurried to the window from which it had come, pressing his face to the screen to peer through a little gap beside the curtain, the color draining from his face at the sight that greeted him.
Jean was stripped naked on bed, lying sideways. Before her another naked figure also lay on its side, facing her, entwined with her in an embrace involving more than just lega and arms. From the way the stranger's butt was jerking back and forth, from the wild scissoring of Jean's naked thigh thrown up over his flank, it wouldn't have taken a marriage counselor to tell that the two people were fucking. It was equally easy to figure out what the second, hulking . male figure was doing standing beside the bed, leaned over it and supported by his arms so that his pelvis almost hid Jean's face. Even from here Jim could see the huge cock pistoning in and out between her ovalled lips. She was sucking it. There was no other explanation. The third smaller male figure, no bigger than a race jockey, lay behind Jean, but hardly even touching her, just doing something to her badtside with his hand, playing with her or ... Jim almost groaned as it dawned on him. This third character was finger-fucking his sister in the ass, probably in preparation for the moment when his finger would be replaced by something a little harder and a little bigger.
And the worst of it all was, that from everything Jim could ascertain, it wasn't rape, Jean was submitting to this lewd gang-fuck of her own free will, and if her submission had been forced, no one was forcing her any longer. He couldn't remember when he'd ever seen her so out of her mind, so crazed with lust and passion.
Spellbound, Jim stood at the window and watched. He didn't know what else to do. This was absolutely the last thing he'd ever expected to get as a greeting, though he supposed he didn't have any real reason to feel bitter. He'd been pretty abrupt, a few years ago, in writing Jean and informing her that he'd decided to get married. He'd given her no warning whatsoever, and from the letter he'd gotten back from her he'd been able to deduce that the shock had really gotten to her. But, damn it! Jean still didn't understand. What he'd never told her was his real reason for getting married. She had been the real reason. He'd had a strange feeling of puritanical guilt about their incestuous affair; his marriage had been an attempt to deny their relationship. But the scheme had been a failure from the beginning. Beautiful and affectionate as his young wife was, willingly as she'd sucked his cock and let him fuck her in the ass as only a French girl knows how to do, he'd never been able to get Jean out of his mind. It seemed she had spoiled him for other women. Or maybe he was just a pervert, fascinated by his own feelings of wrongdoing by having seduced and corrupted his sister at the tender age of fourteen.
Then Jim's inner monologue was interrupted by an even louder groan from the room as one of the men said: "Uh-oh, Miss Sheridan. I think I'm gonna cum?"
Miss Sheridan? What in the hell was going on here anyway?
"I am too," another voice echoed. "I can't hold it back any longer, 'Teach'!"
"Holy mother-fucking Jesus ChristP' Jim groaned under his breath. She was fucking her own goddamn students! Those weren't men! They were goddamned boys!
And if Jim had retained any lingering doubt his suspicion was incorrect, that was erased by a third, even more juvenile voice: "But I'm not ready to cum yet! Jack me off faster, Miss Sheridan! Move your hand faster!"
Jim took another look through past the shade. Now he understood. One of Jean's arms, which had somehow eluded him before, was reached behind her back, and that was what the smaller boy was doing there. He was being jacked-off while he finger-fucked her in the ass.
Then as Jim heard a familiar, though now muffled pre-orgasmic groan swelling in his sister's throat, he turned away from the window. He'd had enough. He couldn't take watching that any longer. It hurt him and it infuriated him and, worst of all, he had an erection looming up from his loins so big it hurt. But neither could he break in and stop what was taking place. It was Jean's apartment, Jean's bedroom, Jean's sensuously naked body that was being ravished. He would have to let nature take its course, which, judging from what he'd heard wouldn't require but a couple more minutes. Then he would send the kids on their way and take his own turn with the woman he'd come halfway around the world to see.
Jim reached the sidewalk, went down and retrieved his suitcase and brought it up to the steps. Then he sat down. He smoked a cigarette hurriedly, still visualizing the shocking scene he'd witnessed through the bedroom window. Then he tossed the cigarette angrily away and stood up. He turned and stepped to the door, opened the screen and tried the handle. As he pushed forward it eased gently open. He hesitated for a moment, then retrieved his suitcase and stepped into the foyer. He left the suitcase there and went into a small cozy living room on his tiptoes, listening to the continued panting and grunting, the anguished cries pouring through the half-open door. Not knowing what else to do. Then the noise built to a crescendo, accompanied by a loud squeaking of the bedsprings, and after a moment tapered off. Then there was only stillness, soft strained panting, desperate gasps for breath.
Jim decided to give them another minute or so to start getting themselves together before he made his entry. To keep himself amused in the meantime, he lay his hand on the tight-stretched crotch of his trousers and began to rub up and down on the straining shaft of his erected cock on the outside of the material. Then he stiffened as he heard the juvenile voice almost whining from beyond the door.
"But Miss Sheridan! I haven't cum yet. Do something to make me cum!"
"Oh Craig, you poor thing," Jean said in a tired voice. "Here, let me see. Put your penis in between ... in between here ... the cheeks of my ass ..." Jim leaned forward on the couch, glaring at the door that blocked his view. "Hold them together so you'll get some, friction and s.. fuck up and down along the crack across my anus ... oh ... oh yes ... ! Just like that, Craig ... does that feel good?"
"Yes . . . Ma'am ... it feels ... goooood!"
An instant later Jim bolted from his seat. He knew he'd really had enough now. To let that continue any longer was to directly court disaster. He'd deflowered two of his sister's available orifices already and for a long time he'd been wondering what it would be like to break in the third. And he wasn't going to be beaten to it by some half-assed high school student. If the kid wanted to rub up and down in the crack a little bit, that was his own business. But Jim was going to be in that bedroom personally making sure he didn't do anything that would actually stretch the hole.
The medium-built but prow twenty-four year old man strode briskly to the bedroom door, no longer concerned about the sound of his footsteps on the floor. His face contorted with suspicion and rage, he shoved the door open and stepped forward, glaring down at three shocked faces looking back at him. The only one who hadn't noticed him was the youngster rutting between Jean's buttocks. But Jim sure as hell noticed the youngster. Except for the longer hair, the glasses and an age difference of about ten years, he could have been looking at himself in the mirror.
Then his eyes shifted to Jean, who looked back at him in horror and shame, pinned in her prone, belly-down position on the bed by the boy who mounted her from behind. Then he looked at the other two kids, one of them glaring at him in fear, the other's big, brutish face adorned by an angry scowl.
"Who the fuck are you?" the big kid said.
"Don't worry about it, punk," Jim retorted, then wondered if he'd made a mistake in saying that as the still completely naked youngster rose and lumbered toward him. Jesus Christ, this guy looked like some sort of over-sized Baby Huey. He had at least a seven-inch cock and it was small compared to the rest of his appendages.
"Butch!" Jean shrieked in a terrified voice as the overgrown youngster was bearing down on her brother Jim. "He's my brother! He's my brother, don't touch him."
Jim sighed with relief as the big boy stopped before reaching him.
"Holy Christ!" gasped the third youngster, the frightened one who was now struggling into his trousers. "Look at that guy. He looks like a double for Craig."
That would be Craig there, Jim thought to himself, watching the even more frenzied jerking of his look-alike's young, clenching buttocks. And from the expression on his sister's face, he could see the kid hadn't actually gotten it into her anus. That was all Jim had been worried about, once he'd got over his initial shock. Relieved, he stripped off his jacket and removed his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt as the two other puzzled kids started getting dressed.
A couple of minutes later it was all over. The third kid finished, leaving a thick shining puddle spread over and between Jean's buttocks. Now Jim had on nothing but his trousers. Jean, naked and sobbing, lay immobolized where she was, staring up at him helplessly. And the kids -- they were on their way out, though they weren't quite through the door. But to Jim they no longer counted. They weren't even there.
"Oh Jim," Jean sobbed, remorse and shame welling through her breasts as she -remembered the ringing of the phone, which she'd completely forgotten, which she'd never associated in the slightest with her brother's imminent arrival. "I'm sorry! Please forgive me! Please."
Jim somehow managed a grin. What the hell had he expected? Not this, of course. But he could hardly have demanded chastity after all this time. "I forgive you, kid. Forget it. I didn't see a thing."
"But... oh, Jimmy." Then Jean's eyes widened as she saw her brother drop his trousers and boxer shorts, his cock looming up in a full-fledged erection from between his muscular, deeply tanned thighs. "Jim? What are you doing?"
"What the hell do you think I'm doing, after watching that? I'm getting ready to fuck you."
Seeing the look of shocked protest on Jean's face, Jim decided not to waste time with his shoes. He left them on, stepping out of his trousers and bounding toward the bed, catching his sister before she even had time to roll over her, pinioning her there on her belly and planting a hot hungry kiss on the back of her neck, biting the tender skin until she cried out before he turned her head so far to the side it almost broke her neck and kissed her ruthlessly on the lips. Then, as she continued to squirm and sob beneath him, he shoved her thighs apart and dropped his loins on the softly inviting cushion of her defenseless ass-cheeks, prodding instantly up into the cum-moistened crack with the giant, lustfully throbbing shaft of his blood-hardened cock.
Then she stiffened beneath him, her face suddenly paling. "Jim?" the young teacher gasped. "Jim? Jim? What are you doing?"
"I'm not sharing holes with those horny kids, and from what I heard outside that window, you've still got one hole left."
"Oh my God!" Jean sobbed, trying futilely to clench her buttocks together. "Don't Jim. Not like that! I've never had it there!"
"That's what I figured. And I want to get you once before some goddamn adolescent beats me to it!"
Then Jim seized his hard pulsing cock and guided the bulbous head straight down to the already slickly moistened, frenziedly puckering little hole."
"Oh God, Jim!" Jean wailed. "You're hurting me. I can't stand it."
Her brother might as well have been deaf. He drew his finger down the narrow furrow between her quivering buttocks, pausing to tease at the tight little hole before grunting under his breath, "Just relax. You'll like it once you get used to it."
Again Jean sobbed, shaking her head. But she no longer tried to resist as her half-brother pushed her legs out wider apart on the bed. Her fear and the sheer perversity of the situation prompted a strange renewed excitement to begin to churn in her loins and along the little membrane that separated the two genital orifices. Tearfully she glanced back over her shoulder and observed Jim's large rigidly throbbing cock aimed right between her upthrust buttocks. She shuddered, realizing for the first time in years how truly large his penis was, certain she could never actually take it in her tight rectal passage. He would kill her! The half-brother she so loved would kill her with his cock if he tried to enter her there. Then a more desperate moan escaped her lips she realized that if he chose to do so, she would let him. After what he'd seen tonight, she couldn't in clear conscience refuse him anything, not even her own life.
Letting her head sink forward, muffling her sobs as a forbidden thrill coursed through her entire naked body at the realization of what she was actually doing, Jean waited without further protest beneath her half-brother. A shudder racked her body as he probed into the tight little hole with his middle finger, followed by a moan that sounded almost like protest as he withdrew it just as quickly. Then she trembled as she felt the thick hard head of his penis replace his finger at the entrance to her little forbidden orifice, probing in the same area as his finger had a moment before.
She sucked in her breath, hardly able to bear the waiting; then she was blinded by the sudden searing pain as he lunged forward, as the tightly clenched little ring clung together in futile objection to this further obscene invasion. And then, just as the first time when she'd been fucked in the anus by a finger, the little ring gave way, popping open as the huge blunt head of Jim's cock lunged up into the tight straight passage.
Jean bit her lips in agony as the shattering penetration continued until Jim's penis was buried at last to the hilt in her rectum. He lay still upon her, giving her time to adjust to the knew sensation, then gradually began to move, sawing slowly and cautiously in and out of the tightly clenching anal lips and the caressing rectal walls, skewering lewdly into her, his devastating hardness pushing aside all resistance that remained in the resiliently rubbery flesh. At last Jean began to feel the hard rhythmic smacking of his loins against her upturned ass-cheeks.
The man's ravished half-sister buried her face in the covers of the bed as the wild stabs of mingled pain and masochistic erotic pleasure darted out from her rectum, searing and coursing gradually over her whole naked body. As the harsh waves of illicit desire surged and swelled, her sobs of agony evolved gradually to lewd mewls of pleasure and surrender and she began to welcome more and more of the sheer raw sensation, relishing evefy merciless thrust, every lunge into the tightly quivering little opening.
"Yes, Jimmy! Yes!" she murmured, now beginning to arch back against him, to undulate and wave her white ass-cheeks before his loins.
As if in answer to her submissive moans, Jean's older brother slid one hand down beneath her pelvis and back between her thighs and with his outstretched middle finger he found the hard little button of her clitoris. He began to stroke it slowly and softly, then increased both the pressure .and the speed of his movements until Jean was sobbing aloud in her wanton and perverted passion, aware of nothing but her erotic ecstasy, surrendering totally to his obscene assault on her buttocks.
Impaled beneath his thrashing cock, Jean's head flailed from side to side as he started fucking harder and she rocked her buttocks in turn violently back against him, thrusting them upward to meet his every racking lunge as his penis disappeared deep into her rectum.
Jean was excited almost beyond endurance now, and her excitement was contagious. Her brother Jim basked in final triumph behind her, lunging forward harder and harder, shoving his thick cock into the narrowly constricted anal passage in time with the now frenzied burrowing of his middle finger up into her pussy.
And that was all it took. A few moments later the last of Jean's resistance faded and spasms of electric fulfillment possessed her body as the separate sensations in her two violated orifices became separate no longer; irrefutibly merged and confused, they were one.
"Oh Jimmy!" she cried. "Jimmy! I'm cumming. I'm CUUUUUMMMMINNNNG!"
Plunging deep up into the warm forbidden passage of his younger sister's ravaged rectum, Jim felt the last of his own not insubstantial control deserting him. He groaned his own gloating ecstasy as his warm thick semen burst from his lust-bloated balls to fill his half-sister's lewdly violated anal depths. He bucked and hunched without mercy .above her, his groans swelling into uncontrollably wild passion. Finally he'd achieved the thing he'd dreamed of ever since his wife had taught him about this perversion on the night of their wedding. He had fucked his sister in the ass. He had truly and completely and totally subjugated her and he knew that no matter how many young boys or how many other men she might fuck in the future or might have fucked in the past, this was one act that couldn't be taken away from him. one deed that could never be erased from the record.
Then, feeling her sag beneath him, Jim collapsed over Jean's prostrate form, drained and spent, still enthralled in the climactic ecstasy of his accomplishment.
Chapter Eight
Jean gazed with narrow eyes up into her brother's tanned handsome face. A little tear welled in her eyes as they both heard the voice' on the loud speaker: "Pan American Flight 736 for New York is now boarding at gate four."
Jim shrugged and made a little face. "What the hell, kid?"
Jean put her hand up to touch his cheek. "I feel so terrible. I don't know why ... I don't understand... It was exactly what I'd been longing for, always. And then..."
"We tried. And I've got no regrets. I had a hell of a good time anyway. Did you?"
"I had a wonderful time," Jean said, and in spite of everything, she was not lying.
"It would have been pretty weird anyway. Brother and sister. Even half-brother and sister."
"I guess so," she nodded, biting her lip. She fell silent as a group of luggage-laden tourists flooded past her. "But if you ever come near here, anywhere near here, come back to stay with me for a few days."
"You'll put me up in your bed, Sis?"
"I promise." Jean hesitated a moment longer. Then the well of tears burst and she was on her tiptoes, her arms around her brother's strong. shoulders, her lips showering kisses on his face.
"And I'll give you a warning, a definite date, the next time I come." A sober expression crossed his face. "But listen: I know what you're going into now. You're not fooling me. And my way, Jean, that's just as unorthodox as incest. And it can get you into a lot of trouble if you aren't careful."
"I know, Jim."
"So be careful."
"I will."
"And have fun with the boys."
"I... will." She looked down at the floor for a moment. When she raised her eyes he was gone, walking briskly with his suitcase toward the departure gate.
And so ended Jean and Jim's week-long experiment in incestuous co-habitatidri. It had ended, though they both still loved each other, because they had both changed. She admitted her own new interest, new fascination, already. To herself and, in so many words, to Jim. And just a few hours from now her bizarre indulgence would resume. She was meeting the three boys at her apartment at nine this evening. She didn't know what Jim would do next. She didn't think he did either, but she thought that though he still cared for her as much as she cared for him, he had somehow gotten her out of his system. He could live, his own future life just as she could live hers. It was almost as if he'd come here looking for something specific he needed from her. She hoped he'd gotten it, and she thought he had.
One thing she did know: No matter how divergent their separate paths might be, when their paths crossed, the two of them would always be more lovers than kin.
