The whole world over, hardly a single nation doesn't hold, high on its list of taboos, that of mixing the races in a sexual fashion. It ranks very near the taboo of incest - sex between blood relations. At the same time, one of the more popular fascinations is in breaking that black-and-white taboo, the whole world over.
That was the theme we handed Terry Stevens some many months ago and asked Terry to write a novel for Surrey House, Inc. to use in the special Collectors Series.
Sarah Bancroft, the virgin protagonist of Black-Nailed Virgin, had not been in the city long, and already her lush figure, her provocative red hair, had made her the target of nearly every man's lust. Prominent among those who wanted to partake of her sexual favors was her lusty boss, Arnie Koken. Koken never missed a single opportunity to brush up against her, pushing his bulging crotch at her typing arm.
Only the big black construction worker, Peter Grant, seemed to be around every time Sarah needed help of any sort, like getting away from a horny man. But Peter Grant, too, was horny, and something about the virile Negro just couldn't be denied.
The blackmail tape, and the promise of riches beyond Sarah's wildest dreams, somehow seemed to urge her on . .. straight into his arms and the wildly exciting African jungle love-nest owned by the sultry Negress.
Enroute, helped by the brutal hoods dogging her tracks, Sarah encountered every form of degradation any virgin could be expected to endure, and still find wealth and happiness.
Terry Stevens did well with the theme of black and white sex, so well that there was no doubt that we would include the manuscript within the first group of Surrey's special Collectors Series. Terry is now working on a new novel, on a different theme, one that Surrey House, Inc. will bring you in the very near future.
The special Collectors Series from Surrey House, Inc. is composed of the very best manuscripts from our files. For some time now we have been taking these manuscripts aside, with just this series in mind . . . quite literally the cream of the crop of manuscripts from all over the world. In future issues Surrey Collectors will have the opportunity of reading books from Germany and Sweden and Portugal, and the slightly different sexual mores will give them a broader scope of what the world is all about, at least on a genital level.
THE PUBLISHERS
Chapter One
The Koken Construction Company office was a twenty-eight foot aluminum trailer that was parked on the work-site. Outside, Sarah Bancroft could hear the normal sounds of the workers at their jobs, the frequently yelled instructions and the rattle and clamor of heavy equipment.
Through the paper-thin wall dividing her reception office from that of Arnold Koken, the owner of Koken Construction Company, Sarah was able to distinguish the words that made up the mumble of voices in the other room.
It was a hot Oxnard day with the thermometer pushing ninety outside and almost as high inside.
Sarah resorted frequently to dabbing at the streaks of sweat on her face with a handy Kleenex. The lush, red-haired girl had to look down at her typewriter from time to time and blink to stay awake. The heat was making her drowsy and she felt a definite tendency to drift off instead of concentrating on her work.
Since coming from New Jersey six months earlier, Sarah had considered herself extremely lucky to land a job when so many other experienced girls were seeking work. She didn't have too many illusions, however, about why she had the job. It was no secret that Arnold Koken considered himself something of a lady's man and Sarah was well aware of her own attractions.
Glancing at the mirror hanging on the wall she examined her smooth, honey-colored skin and the way her breasts popped the front of her gabardine suit out. Her waist was small and her hips, though wide, were trim. More than once she'd caught Koken staring at her legs and the hem of her miniskirt with more than casual interest. The memory stirred a warm feeling of embarrassment in Sarah and her fingers hurried over the keyboard as they sought to distract her mind from an unpleasant thought.
The fly in the ointment, as far as Sarah was concerned, was Arnold Koken. He had a reputation among the construction men as a skirt-chaser and a man who got what he wanted- whether anybody objected or not. Sarah had already literally fought her boss off once. Unlike most men she knew, Koken was undeterred when she had told him she was a virgin.
"There's always got to be a first time," he had told her, staring pointedly into her eyes.
Sarah had felt a chill stir her body, starting those forbidden feelings lancing through her groin. She had blushed and felt faint at the same time. Sarah could almost smell the rank animal odor of Koken's sexuality.
The musky smell in the small room, the long, round bulge in Koken's trousers stirred a long hidden memory in the redhead's mind, a memory she tried to suppress. She had wanted to touch that fleshy lump under the thin material of Koken's slacks. She had wanted to fondle the firm, hot tube of flesh and caress his incredibly soft balls ...
The image was so vivid: her slender, freckled fingers wrapped around a throbbing, white pillar of flesh, her mouth inching toward the moisture slick red dome . . . Sarah had shivered and swayed, her firm breasts brushing against Koken's thick chest, sending ripples of unbearable pleasure through her body. Dirty pleasure, Sarah realized without stating it plainly.
She had tried to pull herself together. It had had to be a horrible weakness, a fantasy. The fingers in the dark recess of her memory weren't hers. They were small, too small, like a child's fingers, freckled as hers had once been. And that cock . . . Sarah quivered, still feeling the echo of illicit lust in her body . . . that cock was huge. It was too big to be real, Sarah had thought. And besides, she had never seen a man's penis . . . except for her father's . . . except for her father's.
Before Sarah had time to wonder at that vagrant thought - of course she had never seen her father's penis - Koken had his hands on her breasts, clenching and kneading her hot flesh in a way that made her knees weak. Before her sinful flesh could betray her, Sarah had pushed Koken away.
It was fortunate, she thought grimly, that they had been on the construction site. Because that night Sarah was sure Koken would have raped her if the workers hadn't been right outside the door.
Something buzzed next to Sarah's ear. She looked up, startled by the unexpected noise. It was caused by a big, fat-bellied blue-bottle fly glinting metallically in the hot afternoon sun as it flew around the office. Irritated at the interruption, but welcoming an excuse to get up, Sarah picked up the fly swatter and began stalking the intruder. Finally the fly lighted on the screen door opening onto the construction site. She walloped him with the swatter. As she turned to go back to her desk, she suddenly realized that from where she was standing the voices from Koken's office were exceptionally clear.
"All you've got to do, Al," Koken was saying, "is get me the figures on those bids beforehand."
"I can't do that." The answering voice was thin, lacking character. Just like the owner, Sarah thought to herself. Al Martinez was a city councilman who supposedly represented the huge Mexican-American population around the sprawling Port Hueneme Naval Station. That meant, as Sarah had learned in her six months in the southern California coastal community, that he represented an amalgamation of lettuce pickers, celery growers, and civil service workers who made up the bulk of the poorer paid population in the area. However, a lot of people in the area thought that Martinez' main concern was the lining of his own pocket with fresh green money. Sarah knew she shouldn't listen, but her curiosity rooted her to the spot.
"Listen, Al," Koken said, "I need that contract. I've got all my money tied up in a couple of these Channel Island projects and unless I get some fresh capital a foreclosure could wipe me out."
"What can I do?" Martinez asked.
"It's not what you can do, it's what you've got to do," Koken growled. "It was my money that got you into office and all those greasers out there think you're working for them. You know damned good and well who you're working for."
Martinez started to protest and Koken cut him off. "I need that city contract. It's up to you to see that I get the inside information."
The trailer floor squeaked in the next room and Sarah, realizing that her boss might open the door connecting the two offices, quickly sat down at the typewriter and began pounding. The buzz of voices went on but she couldn't make out the rest of the words.
A few minutes later Al Martinez hurried out. Beads of sweat collected at the black roots of his bristly mustache and coarse sideburns. Sarah's eyes followed the Mexican-American's figure out the trailer office and then intuitively turned to the connecting door between the two offices.
Arnold Koken loomed in the doorway, practically filling it with his broad-shouldered six-foot-two frame. He was going to paunch, but even a casual observer would note the tremendous muscular development in his shoulders and arms.
"How about working late tonight, Sarah?" Koken asked.
Sarah looked down at her hands on the keyboard.
She could feel Koken's staring eyes burning into her naked flesh and she was glad she had worn a gabardine suit even if it was too hot in this weather. From where Koken was standing, if she'd been wearing a loose-bodiced dress, he'd practically be staring between her breasts. Just the thought of that happening started a warm flush in the skin of her face and arms.
"I'm afraid I can't, sir." Primly, she squeezed her knees together, feeling the dribble of sweat start an itching in her crotch.
"Oh, come on, Sarah." Koken sidled up to her and placed his hands on her shoulder. Gently he squeezed her soft, young flesh. "I know you can use the overtime."
Sarah tried to avert her face. The way Koken was standing the front of his trousers were almost at the same level as her eyes and she could see the knob-like bulge in his pants. For no reason her fingers were sweaty and seemed to slip awkwardly off the keys as she hit them, messing up the neat page of specifications she was typing.
"Believe me, Sarah," Koken was groaning, "this is the kind of overtime you'd really enjoy." He pressed closer to her and his thigh was touching her arm. Sarah tried to jerk away, feeling his warmth against her, but there was no place to go.
He turned awkwardly, seemingly by accident brushing the front of his pants against her arm. Sarah distinctly felt the hard flesh that she knew was a man's penis. The strange desire to reach up with her hand and grab that rank protruding symbol of masculinity almost overwhelmed her again, as it had before. But she could almost feel the silk texture of that flesh touching her cheek. She restrained herself, her mind addled by alien desires.
Koken shifted his weight and his hips rocked back and forth, brushing that thick piece of man flesh against her. His hand was on her shoulders pressing her tightly against him. Sarah wanted to scream. But how could she? Koken wasn't doing anything. He was just standing there, talking to her. Too close to be sure. But suppose somebody did come running in? Sarah didn't need a diagram to tell her how ridiculous she'd feel saying her boss was standing there rubbing his rank old penis against her body.
"Please . . . Mr. Koken," she said. "I . . . have ... I have to get this work done."
Koken chuckled and slid his hand up her shoulder to her neck and then patted the side of her face, forcing her closer to that rampant flesh bulge in his pants.
"That's what I like about you," he said and chuckled. "The perfect secretary." Abruptly he let her go. Sarah reeled back in the chair. "One of these days," he promised her, "we'll get together."
"Yes, sir," Sarah said dutifully. But in her heart, she promised herself that she'd take up walking the streets first.
When it was time to go home, Sarah cleaned off her desk, put the cover on her typewriter, and looked into Koken's office.
"Good night, Mr. Koken," she said.
"Sure you won't change your mind?" Koken leered at her from behind his massive oak desk.
"No, sir," Sarah said stiffly. She edged toward the screen door. "See you tomorrow."
"All right," Koken said.
Sarah stepped out into the harsh afternoon sunlight and felt her face redden when she was greeted by a chorus of wolf whistles. The construction bums were getting off work and they had gathered in a small group just outside the door as had been their regular practice since she went to work for Koken.
The first step from the trailer was a really high one and Sarah was painfully aware that an awful lot of her thigh showed under her miniskirt when she made it. The construction workers were aware of it too. Automatically she smoothed her short skirt down to make sure she was decent when she had both feet on the ground.
"Give you a ride home, Miss Bancroft?" a heavy-muscled construction worker asked. He was young with long, black hair and his shirt hung casually from one finger over his bare shoulder. He flexed his pectoral muscles and Sarah averted her eyes from his lewd display of virile nakedness.
She knew that some of the men deliberately taunted her innocence and she was resolved to ignore them. Besides she had no intention of tying up with one of these construction bums. For the most part they were drifters without homes or families, or the desire for anything beyond a quick roll in the hay.
The fellow with the muscles patted the black leather seat of his 750 Norton motorcycle, a favorite conveyance among the younger construction bums who always seemed broke but able to afford expensive, fast, noisy machinery. Sarah shook her head in a deprecating gesture and the other construction workers who were watching whistled and cat-called rudely at the man who had been turned down. He smiled good-naturedly, kick started his motorcycle and rocketed out of the yard, spewing dust and small stones behind him.
Oxnard isn't a big town in southern California, as cities go, and Sarah did most of her traveling on foot. Between one thing and another, it wasn't until she got all the way home that she realized she had left her purse in the office. She didn't have the key to her small rented bungalow and, what was even more annoying, she didn't have enough money to take a cab back to the construction lot.
The walk home had tired her and she was feeling the effects of the too-hot sun and the ravages of sweat on her neatly applied make-up.
Sarah started to walk back to the project, resigned to the heat, but on the way she passed a long-haired girl in jeans and a baggy sweat shirt with her thumb sticking out. Sarah was barely abreast of the young girl when a car pulled up and the door was opened and she got in and accepted a ride.
Normally the casual hitchhiking would have appalled Sarah as being . . . well, indecent. If she can do it, Sarah thought, why can't I? It can't be all that dangerous. After all, I see these girls hitchhiking out here every day.
Trying not to think about it, Sarah walked to the edge of the street and, standing on the curb, gingerly extended her hand, her thumb pointed up the way she had seen some of the hippies doing it.
It was with relief that she noted the first three cars zooming past her, because she suddenly didn't think it was as good an idea as it had looked at first. When the next car slowed down and pulled over to the curb, and a strange man reached across to the passenger side and opened the door, Sarah was having serious doubts.
"Where are you going?" the man asked.
"Well," Sarah said, "you -I -"
"Come on. Get in and you can tell me on the way."
Hesitantly Sarah slid into the passenger's seat and shut the door behind her. The driver of the car was fortyish with thin features. His eyes kept sliding around in his head so he could glance at her. It made Sarah feel insecure with his eyes off the road so much.
"I'm going to the construction project on Victoria. You know, where they're going to put up the new First National Bank."
"You're in luck," the man said. "I'm going out that way myself." He turned his head and looked fully at Sarah, licking his thin lips with his sharp-pointed tongue. "It's pretty hot today, young lady," he said.
"Yes," Sarah answered. She saw his eyes dropping down her full white blouse to stare at the high hem of her emerald green miniskirt that barely hit the middle of her thighs. Sarah wished that today of all days she had worn something a little more modest.
"Why don't we stop for a drink?" the man said. "How about Captain Jack's?"
"That's further than we're going," Sarah said. "I think we'd better skip it today."
"Aw, no trouble." The driver of the car put his hand on her knee, cupping it warmly. "Just a few minutes, then I'll drop you off where you're going on the way back."
Sarah clamped her thighs together. His fingers felt like hot matches where they touched her flesh and a weird thrill was running through her thighs.
"I think," she said and quivered, "you had better let me out here."
"Don't be like that, babe." The man's hand slowly traveled up her thigh. Sarah was actually shivering.
"Please," she said. "Don't do that."
"Come on," the man said. "Scoot over here a little." The grip on her thighbecame firmer as he tried to force her against him. He took his eyes off the road and leered at her. His fingers started in an inexorable crawl up the insides of her thigh.
"Look out!" Sarah screamed. Immediately in front of them a large truck loomed on the two-way street. The driver of the car cursed, yanking his hand away from Sarah's thigh and jerking the wheel violently. The car wavered and ran off the road and into a ditch.
"Goddamn," the man said. "Goddamn." He gunned the motor but the car just sat. Sarah quickly threw open the door and jumped out. The car was sitting on its frame, the two right wheels hanging over a culvert that ran next to the road, the other rear wheel spinning futilely in the soft sand, not able to get any traction.
Quickly Warah walked on down the road. Behind her the thin-faced man had gotten out and was looking at his car.
"Hey! Wait," he yelled. "Come back." He started after Sarah but she refused to do more than look back before lengthening her stride. He followed her a short way, staring at her and then back at the car and then back at Sarah, but finally made up his mind and went back to the car.
By the time Sarah got to the construction site, the sun was a red ball just tipping the flat blue ocean. She went up to the construction trailer, hoping against hope that the door was unlocked. Usually it was in the morning because Koken was always forgetting to lock it when he left. She tried the pull-out handle and was pleased when the door opened. Quickly she pulled the screen door and stepped inside, walking over to her desk. Her purse, a small flat white thing that seemed more designed for evening use, was laying exactly where she'd left it.
She picked it up and was about to go when she heard voices from the other office. It was Koken. Sarah didn't want anything to do with him. If he knew she was there . . . she was prepared to flee when the sounds became more distinct. It seemed to her as if somebody was in pain. She put her hand on the knob of the connecting door and hesitated opening it. But there was an unusually urgent moan. She knew she had no choice. She couldn't go away leaving somebody in there who might be hurt or sick.
Gently Sarah turned the knob and the door swung in. It had only traveled a few inches when Sarah stopped it with her hand. She was frozen to the spot. The moaning was coming from a busty blonde sprawled on the brown leather couch that took up most of Koken's office. The blonde was on her back on the couch, naked. Her knees were bent and her feet were flat on the leather cushions.
"Oh God, Arnie," she was saying. "Please, Arnie, don't." Her head was thrown back and her hair hung in a long yellow fall over the side of the couch. And then her hips were pushing up.
Koken was on his knees, his head buried between the blonde's full thighs. Sarah didn't know what to think. She'd never seen anything like it before. The blonde was wiggling and writhing on the dark couch, her full breasts jiggling with wild abandon, the little red nipples sharply distended. Sarah's crotch felt itchy at the sight.
Although the blonde was begging Koken to stop whatever he was doing, her lips were twisted in what Sarah could tell was a passionate expression and her hands, far from pushing Koken away, were pressing his head against her. Sarah felt tingly between her legs and she realized that Koken's face was pressing against the other woman's naked sex. Sarah had never conceived of anyone putting his face to her own pee hole. It was a dirty, perverted thought. She knew where babies came from but this was filthy. This was something different. She should have closed the door and she wanted to, but she couldn't. The scene in front of Sarah was too stark and overwhelming.
Slowly Koken's hands lifted the blonde's buttocks and his face was revealed pressed between the woman's golden thighs. From where Sarah was she saw the slick wetness of the girl's skin where Koken's mouth had explored, the way his lips flattened out over every mound and cranny of the girl's pubic region. He lifted his lips away and Sarah could see the slash of the woman's vulva which Koken had been so avidly sucking.
"Oh, oh, oooohhhhaaaah," the blonde sighed.
Sarah gasped soundlessly as Koken's tongue speared out of his mouth like a snake's and pushed its way between the fur-covered lips of the woman's sex.
Sarah's own pee hole felt wet, tingly. It was a sensation she couldn't remember ever having before. And her hands seemed automatically to go to her crotch to alleviate the feeling.
Koken's tongue licked at the blonde, hairy lips of the woman's vagina. Sarah stifled a gasp as she realized his tongue was actually going into the woman's body, plowing into that dark slit and then disappearing. The blonde was shaking and wiggling her hips uncontrollably.
"Oh fuck me, Arnie," she cried. "Please do it! Fuck me!"
Sarah's ears burned. She heard the dirty words enough around the office. The construction workers were always using them just outside her window or across the yard. Yelling them at each other. But to hear that kind of salacious lewd language from a woman was something that she had been protected against most of her life.
"Stick it in me, Arnie! Ram that big, beautiful dick of yours up my cunt."
Koken grinned evilly and dropped the blonde's butt on the brown leather couch. He sidled forward and Sarah could see his huge penis dangling above the woman's crotch. It looked as big as Sarah's wrist and the mushroom-shaped head gleaming wetly red in the dying sunlight seemed larger than her clenched fist.
"Give it to me, Arnie," the blonde moaned. "Uh, uhhuhagh."
Koken reached back and grabbed his rod, his hand guiding it toward the blonde's gaping slot. For a moment it poked against her flesh, flattening as if it were up against a solid wall. Then, unbelievable to Sarah, that huge bulk of his cock started sinking into the blonde's vagina. Sarah couldn't believe that that great thing would fit into a woman's tunnel. Her own would barely accommodate two of her fingers. The blonde shrieked, her hips twitched.
At first Sarah thought it was with pain that she was screaming, but the blonde's words became clearer.
"Give it to me. Stick it into me. Give me more." The blonde's face twisted. "Uhuhuh - Uhuhuh ..."
Koken leaned slowly forward. His penis slipped into the blonde like a post hole digger. It was so long. It kept going in and in and in. Sarah couldn't believe that the blonde could take it all. There was so much of it. And then Koken was lying on the blonde, his pubic hair blackly shadowing the woman's furry mat. He raised his hips and the shaft pulled slowly out of the woman's tunnel. It came out until the red mantle of the end of his penis was showing and only the tip was lodged in the woman's vagina. Then he jammed it cruelly back into her. In and out, in and out.
The blonde was shrieking and heaving her hips, impaling herself on the pointed stick as if she enjoyed it. Sarah's hand was rubbing madly at her own crotch. Her skirt was getting wet in front, the gabardine blotching darkly where the moisture discolored it. The blonde's butt was slamming against the couch and her hips were bouncing up, throwing her vagina against Koken's protruding rod.
The whole trailer was shaking. Sarah could feel it shivering through her feet.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," the blonde was sobbing. She had Koken pulled down on her. His buttocks clenched and unclenched as he pounded his shaft into her joy hole. "Oh God," the woman shrieked. She stiffened. Her toes pointed upward toward the ceiling. Her legs caught Koken's hips in a vise-like grip. His feet braced against the end of the couch and his legs stiffened, ramming him brutally against her and drilling his penis deep into the blonde's body.
Sarah could see a white froth foaming out of the blonde's slot around Koken's thick, white stake that was plugging her hole. Sarah quickly pulled the door shut, soundlessly releasing the knob and letting it latch. She tucked the purse under her arm and went outside, not even closing the outer door, and was heading directly for the highway, careful to stay out of the line of vision of the window in Koken's office.
She hurried along the road aware of the gathering gloom as the sun slipped over the horizon. The cars were few between coming down the road, and Sarah didn't really want to thumb a ride, but whereas coming out to the construction project had been a matter of choice, going back wasn't.
She didn't want to be out on the side of the highway after it was dark. Not with the roving bands of teenaged surfers who haunted the area on the loose, or for that matter the moralless drifters that made up the construction force. Or, worse, with Koken liable to come down the road. When the next car came speeding down the highway, its lights shining brightly in the dusk, Sarah stuck her hand out with her thumb up, hoping that the car would stop.
The car pulled over to the side of the road, its tires slithering on the gravel-strewn dirt. It was dark inside, too dark to see, and Sarah hurried to the passenger door and opened it.
"Are you going to town?" she asked.
"Sure thing," the deep voice replied. "Hop in."
Quickly Sarah slid into the passenger's seat and slammed the door. The car was rolling toward Oxnard even before the door was completely shut Sarah glanced over at her savior and immediately experienced a sinking feeling. The man who had stopped for her was a Negro. The sight of his chocolate brown skin and close-cropped curly black hair almost made her cry out.
Back in New Jersey she'd been told what black men were looking for and now, inadvertently, she seemed to have put herself in the power of one.
Chapter Two
"I'm Peter Grant," the man said in his husky voice, "and I know you. You're Arnie Koken's new secretary."
Sarah tried to stifle her fear of the Negro. "Yes," she said. "How did you know?"
"Well," Grant said and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "I work for Koken too."
Sarah followed the direction of his brown thumb and saw the silver metal hardhat thrown in the backseat, the trademark of a construction worker.
"I'm pleased to meet you," Sarah said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
During the short ride to Oxnard, Sarah watched the strongly-built Negro out of the corner of her eye. It was the first time she had been alone with a ... a colored man, and the breathless feeling that she had she recognized as fear.
"Where can I drop you off?"
"What?"
"Where do you want to go?" Grant repeated.
"Oh, anywhere along here," Sarah said. "It's just a short walk home."
"I'll take you there."
"No. Just let me off here." Sarah's voice matched the stricken look on her face.
Grant stared at her intently and a sudden wave of disgust seemed to fill his voice. "I get it," he said. "You're one of those honky bitches that doesn't want to be seen with a black man."
"It's nothing like that," Sarah said, but her quavering voice revealed the lie.
With a grimace the Negro slammed on the brakes and skidded to the curb. He reached across Sarah's body and unlatched the car door, flinging it open. Sarah gasped. His arm passed like a bar across her stomach, brushing against her protruding breasts. She felt hot and cold at the same time from the unexpected touch.
"Well?" Grant demanded. "What are you waiting for? Get out."
"It's not like - I mean, it's not that way," Sarah stammered.
"Isn't it?" Grant said and sneered. He jerked his thumb at the sidewalk. "Go on. Get back to your white honky friends."
Sarah stumbled out of the car on shaking legs and slammed the door behind her. Grant didn't even look back as he spun rubber getting his car away from the curb. In a moment the night was silent again except for the crickets and a sleepy chirping of birds bedding down for the night. Around the street lights huge moths battered the still night air scented with the salty tang of the ocean.
Sarah felt very lonely, very empty, as if she had done something bad. And yet.. . she hadn't done anything she hadn't been trained to do. Reflectively she crossed her arms, feeling them press against her breasts where Grant's long arm had touched her. It seemed to her as if she could still feel the muscular firmness of his arm pressing against her there warmly, hotly.
Sarah's face screwed up. She felt like crying. Then she spun about and ran the few short blocks to her house where she slammed and locked the door after herself.
At work the next day, Sarah couldn't help glancing out the trailer window at the work-site trying to pick outthe figure of Peter Grant. She realized that she didn't even know what he really looked like. It had never been light enough in the car for her to distinguish his features other than that he was a chocolate-colored, husky Negro, similar in build to at least half of the rugged construction men who worked for Koken.
She sighed. Besides, she thought, she had no business being interested in seeing Peter Grant again. He wasn't, to phrase it delicately, herkind of people. Sarah's parents, while they were alive, weren't exactly snobs. They were just hard-working middle class people who had lived all their lives in Plainefield, New Jersey and they had felt strongly about the propriety of sex and even more strongly about the propriety of sex with colored.
Sometimes when Sarah thought about her parents it was like a distant, bad dream. Ever since their death in an automobile accident ten years earlier she had been unable to remember them exactly. She remembered the psychologist, though. The one they had sent her to from the orphanage.
He had a big, musty room with dark books on the shelves and a leather couch like Koken's. He was a big man, she remembered that, and then, suddenly stricken, she remembered he was black. Not as black as Grant, though. Sarah blushed as she remembered her confused feelings around the black construction worker. For the first time she realized that he was handsome despite his chocolate colored skin.
Much handsomer than the psychologist.
Sarah remembered the tall, black man pacing the room, trying to get her to talk to him. She'd been silent, staring at him, refusing to meet his eyes as he moved back and forth. She remembered his penis. It had been a thick lump in his pants and Sarah's fingers had itched to touch it, to hold it, and dreaded doing it at the same time.
"What happened before the accident? Just before the accident?" the psychologist had asked over and over. Sarah remembered the question, but not the answer.
Sweat beaded her forehead as she realized she would have told him if he had let her hold his cock and kiss it while she stroked the hot, firm flesh.
But he never did.
And Sarah never told him what he wanted to know.
Sarah had gone to a liberal school and sometimes she thought her fear of sex and black men went back to that moment. But that was ridiculous, she told herself. He had never even touched her. Never once.
If he had ... ?
Sarah's heart pounded faster and harder and her breasts trembled. She had put her hands on her soft mounds and squeezed the way her daddy had squeezed, wringing her juice out through her slot. She felt it trickling down her thigh.
She had felt so good she was dizzy with pleasure. If only he had stuck his prick into her hole then - the way daddy had put his finger in before, just before. . .
Sarah's lips trembled. Just before he died. Her heart almost stopped. She knew. She knew how daddy had died. It was because of the lustful ache in her little hole.
Sarah's heart started beating abnormally loud and a trickle of sweat slid down her belly to the top of her itchy slot. She was feeling it again. It wasn't daddy's fault. She had wanted him to touch her there.
Oooooohhooo, she moaned to herself. Her cunt lips were twisting against her chair. She moaned the way she had before - until mother came!
She tried to push her tiny cunt back on her daddy's big finger
Unconsciously Sarah's hand slipped under her skirt. She sighed as her fingers delved between her lush, red cunt lips, deep into her body until she could feel the pillow-soft tunnel squeezing spongily. "Aaaahaaahaahaa," she sighed.
The force of her climax washed over Sarah - the guilty pleasure that had killed her mother and father. She couldn't believe it, she tried to let the throbbing force of her orgasm wash it out of her. Instead, it pushed it back to fill a cranny in the back of her head - lodging there like the nemesis of fear It was her guilt. Her truth.
She was a sexual jinx . . .a slut unable to control her hungry pussy
Unconsciously, Sarah's hands fondled her breasts feeling the warm, almost burning spots where Grant's arm had touched her. It was as if some of that brown color had rubbed off onto her and was burning into her soft flesh like acid.
She put another piece of paper in the typewriter and determinedly began working on the pile of papers that Koken had left for her to do.
The afternoon was another scorcher. Fortunately there was a little breeze off the ocean to stir the air in the trailer. As the sweat dripped off of Sarah's body, the sheer blouse she had worn stuck to her, plastering over her full breasts like a coat of paint.
She hadn't worn a bra because of the heat, but now she was regretting it. She got up from behind her typewriter and went to the trailer window where she stretched and tried to bathe in the current of air that came through the louvers. Suddenly she realized that half a dozen construction workers had stopped what they were doing and were leering in her direction at the trailer. Tentatively a smile started on her lips and then she looked down. My God, she thought, Fm naked. The sweat from her body had soaked the normally white nylon blouse, turning it almost transparent. It clung to her round breasts, indecently outlining every bump and protuberance so she might as well have been undressed. Nothing was left to the imagination.
She hastily backed away from the window and pinched at the material that stuck to her mammary glands and tried to tug it free, attempting to make it billow away from her body so it wouldn't show her breasts so distinctly. From outside the trailer came a series of ragged cheers and Sarah turned her back to the open window and covered her face with her hands, mortified with embarrassment.
She was still that way when Koken came striding into the trailer. He was grinning broadly and he opened the door into his connecting office and said, "In here." Forgetting her fear of him, Sarah flashed a grateful smile and dashed into the other office which had curtains covering the special oversized windows Koken had had installed in the trailer so he could have a clear view of the construction project when he was working inside.
"You need a drink," Koken said as he slammed the door behind him. He walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a bottle and two glasses, setting them on the blotter.
"No," Sarah said. "No thank you, Mr. Koken. I don't drink."
"Nonsense." Koken poured the two glasses nearly full and handed Sarah one. "After that show you put on for the boys, you deserve a reward." "Show?" Sarah turned red.
"Sure. We saw you in here pulling on your tits and rubbing yourself. Goddamn. All the boys out there were going to draw lots to see which one would come in and take care of you, seeing how you were that horny. But I figured you weren't really interested in having one of the yard studs."
Sarah sipped on her drink and almost choked. It was crystal clear but it wasn't water. The bottle on the table said Beefeater's Gin. "I think," she said, edging toward the door, "I better get back to work.'
"You can't go back like that," Koken soothed
"Look at you," and he waved his hand at her. "The way your tits are hanging out, you look like a Playboy calendar girl. I won't have one of those yard birds out there able to hold a hammer in ten minutes. They'll all have hard-ons bigger than their heads if you keep parading in front of that window."
Sarah blushed again. Her whole body felt as if it had broken out in a rash. What Koken said was true. It was worse. She crossed her arms in front of her, covering her breasts. It reminded her that she was practically naked in front of this turbulent, violent man.
"Have a drink and relax. It'll cool you off." Koken saluted her with his glass and drained it in one gulp.
Sarah, following suit, tentatively sipped at hers. She didn't choke, but experienced a burning sensation in her throat, a warm hot feeling as the liquid splashed into her stomach. She didn't know whether she was imagining it or not, but it looked as if Koken's normally red face had turned a shade redder. The big contractor picked the bottle up from the desk and replenished both their drinks.
"This is just what you need," he said, "to cool you off." His hand slipped around her body and pulled her close to him, and his lips covered hers hotly and firmly.
Sarah was too surprised at first to do anything, but then she felt his callused fingers cupping the firm mound of her breast. She began to struggle but without success. Koken, despite his rowdy life, was in good shape for a man his age. His arm was like a steel bar and Sarah was unable to even make it quiver. His fingers closed more tightly around her breasts, squeezing them, and it seemed to Sarah squeezing the breath out of her lungs.
Thrills shot out from her breasts into the other parts of her body. Strong, pulsating sensations that immobilized her, as they washed over her.
"P-p-please, Mr. Koken," Sarah stammered.
"Catl me Arnie." Koken swallowed his drink and breathed deep. The raw odor of juniper berries smashed into her face. Sarah retreated but abruptly stopped when she felt the brown leather couch catch the back of her legs.
"I have to get back to work, Mr. Koken," she said.
Koken laughed and gave her a little shove. Abruptly she sat down. "Later," Koken said. "I'm the boss, remember?"
Sarah was scared. The man's superior strength, the domineering way he was pushing her around, and the alcohol he drank gave her the feeling that nothmg would make him stop. She had to get out of that room or . . . she let the thought trail off. She seemed about to remember something. Something dreadful. "Go on," he said, "have another drink." Sarah was still holding "hers, a two-ounce tumbler full of gin.
"No thanks," she said. She handed it to him and Koken, without an instant's thought, swallowed it in one gulp and put the glass down on the floor.
"You're a good-looking broad," he said. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time." "Mr. Koken!" Sarah's voice was shocked. "Mr. Koken?" Koken imitated in a squeaky falsetto. "You don't think I hired you for your brains, do you? It's what's underneath that counts." He pushed Sarah down on the couch. "You just relax," he said, "and this won't hurt a bit."
"No," Sarah shouted. "No, no, no!"
Koken put his hand over her mouth and held her while his other hand slipped behind her back and began to unbutton her nylon blouse. As she struggled, he pulled the material roughly off her arms. She stopped struggling as she felt the cool air of the trailer strike her naked breasts. She couldn't help it. Her nipples were suddenly straight up and swollen and iron hard. The areolas of her breasts tingled with the sensation of goose-bumps popping up, making them rough surfaced.
"Please, Mr. Koken," she moaned.
"Sure, baby," Koken said. "Anything you want." He lowered his head and his hot mouth ringed her throbbing breasts.
Sarah gurgled in her throat. It was like a hot branding iron being put to the milky-white smoothness. Koken was sucking on her breast, not just the nipple but the whole breast. His mouth was stretched wide and he had the spongy piece of flesh in his hot mouth. Sarah thrashed about. She didn't want to admit it but her moans were moans of pleasure. Koken was sucking her breast into his mouth, stretching on it, pulling on it, kneading it. She wanted to explode.
It was a heavenly sensation. A feeling she never dreamed was possible before. Slowly her suckled breast pulled out of his mouth until only the nipple was left between his lips. It hurt deliciously as he chewed on it with his big, white teeth, and his tongue stroked the tip roughly.
"Please," Sarah moaned. "No more. No more." But her hands had stopped trying to push his head away from her chest.
Koken lifted his head. "God, you've got beautiful tits, baby," he said. "I love to suck them. We can do this every day." His head bobbed down and his lips fastened on her other tit.
Sarah gurgled a stifled shout of ecstasy and shock. He was doing it again, sucking and pulling at her tit, stretching it like a rubber band, making it feel momentarily as if he was going to pull it right off of her, and then letting it snap back, driving flashes of pleasure like shivers through her body.
One shiver seemed to light in her pubic region and a gradual heat was spreading from her virgin slot.
Koken's hands were busy. They found the waistband of her skirt and unhooked it, then he was rolling the skirt down, pushing it past her hips and over her head. Sarah was thankful she had worn pantyhose.
Surely he would stop when he got to that nylon corset, but Koken didn't seem bothered that her hips and pelvis were encased in nylon underwear. His hand dipped between her thighs and rubbed briskly while his mouth continued slurping at her firm, young breast.
"Uhhhhooooohahaaahhh!"
Sarah arched her back and hips. She couldn't help it. She wanted his hand hot and burning against her pubic mound. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. And yet her body said it was right. Her vagina was leaking moisture that ran down her thigh, a sign, she knew, of arousal.
Koken used both hands to pull the pantyhose over Sarah's hips and butt. When they were midway down her thighs, he put one hand between her legs and began rubbing the dark red patch of hair that concealed her most private parts.
"Don't. Don't," Sarah said and gasped. "Please." She was stricken at the invasion of her body. She tried to push his hand away but Koken just rubbed harder. Soon the lips of her vulva were glowing with heat from the friction of his hand. Her body was seething with desire. Weakly she pushed at his hand, but it did no good. His fingers trailed through the squishy softness of her vulva, stopping only when they encountered the bulge of her swollen clitoris.
Sarah was so ashamed of the wetness that kept draining out of her and wouldn't stop until it ran on to Koken's prying fingers. She was ashamed too, of the way his fingers felt as they delved into her body, exciting her, making her hips seem to command a life of their own as she shimmied and shook before his onslaught.
"Oooooh," Sarah moaned. Koken's fingers were having their effect. Her thighs were trembly with the forbidden desire that seemed to spring from her vagina. Sarah clamped her thighs together, catching Koken's hand between them.
"You've got to stop," Sarah gasped. It felt like her body was ready to explode. She didn't want that to happen.
"You've got to stop right now or . . ." she paused, ". . . or I'll call the police."
Koken's hand pulled slowly back along her thigh, cupping her firm flesh. He laughed and the vibration from his body shook through her. Grabbing the almost empty gin bottle, he filled his glass again and threw half of it down with one gulp.
"That's a laugh," he said. "Who do you think you're talking to? You want to see how far you'll get calling the police?" He leered down at Sarah's naked body. "Just listen," he said, stumbling slightly, the gin beginning to show. Koken made his way to the tape-recorder and snapped it on.
"One hundred twenty-five thousand, five hundred dollars," a voice said from the speaker.
"I'll bid two thousand less," the seeond voice said, definitely Koken's. Sarah had heard enough of it. "You just make sure I get the contract."
"It won't be easy . . ." the second man sounded to Sarah like Al Martinez, the city councilman, but she couldn't be sure. His voice had the same wishy-washy inflections though.
"You'll do it," Koken's voice growled, "if you know what's good for you, Mr. Martinez. I've scratched your back a lot before this."
"Well, there are rumors, Arnie," Martinez' voice whined. "Some of the inspectors claim that you use inferior materials in your construction jobs."
"A few bucks and they'll stay quiet," Koken's voice assured, "just do what you're told and . .." Koken snapped the recorder off.
"You think about it, baby," Koken said, "and then you try to go to the cops. I've got a dozen men who'll swear that you've been parading around here half naked, trying to get me hot enough to take you. And Martinez knows which end of the hook he's on. That pipsqueak throws a lot of weight down at city hall and with the police department. You figure out just how it'll look when I slap you with an extortion charge." Koken laughed. "That's rich," he said. "I can just see them hauling your pretty ass down to the police station for trying to pull a little badger game on me."
Sarah cringed on the couch. She realized that
Koken was drunk, that his meanness was showing through and that the animal cunning which had carried him as high as he was in the construction industry was still working for him. She got to her feet. It was embarrassing to stand before Koken naked, her breasts feeling heavy and swollen and taut, the slit between her legs still soaked with her own intimate virgin liquid.
"Please, Arnie," she begged. "Please don't do this to me. I'm a virgin."
"Well, that makes me a pretty lucky guy, doesn't it?" Koken said expansively. He started toward Sarah, his eyes glinting rapaciously.
Suddenly the trailer rocked slightly and both Koken and Sarah knew that somebody had walked into the other office.
"Goddamn," Koken said. He looked menacingly at Sarah and said, "Don't even try to move your goddamned ass. I'm going to be right back." Quickly he opened the door and stepped into the other room, slamming the door behind him.
Sarah heard the rumble of voices, Koken's more than a little angry. Wildly she looked around the room. There wasn't any time to lose. She pulled her skirt and blouse back on, drawing her pantyhose back up over her hips. Almost without thinking she went to the tape-recorder and pulled off the full reel of tape threaded on the machine. Trying to shake the trailer as little as possible, she crossed to the rear door and carefully pressed the door handle down until it clicked open.
"Where the fuck are you going?" Arnie Koken's voice filled the trailer.
Sarah glanced over her shoulder just once, startled.
Koken was halfway in the other room when she shoved the back door open, jumped out and started running up the road.
"Goddamn you! Come back!" Koken growled. He jumped out the back door after her but he tripped as his feet hit the ground and he spilled forward on his face. Every construction worker could see what was happening and practically doubled over with laughter. Drunkenly Koken staggered to his feet and started running after Sarah.
Although he swayed from the alcohol, Sarah could hear the heavy thud of his big flat feet, pounding after her. The sound lent impetus to her own legs. Suddenly a car pulled up in front of her and the door on the passenger side swung open. Without thinking, Sarah jumped inside and closed the door. The car took off down the road and she turned her head to say thanks. Only the word died in her throat. The driver was a big, chocolate-colored Negro. "Mr. Grant?" she asked hesitantly. Peter Grant smiled, his big white teeth filling his face with a flash of brilliance. "That's right. White knight at your service or . . ." he frowned, ". . . or should I say black knight."
"I. . . I don't know what to say," Sarah blurted out.
"We'll think of something," Grant told her warmly as he pointed the car toward Oxnard.
The drive passed through a combination of celery fields with Mexican laborers working in them and expensive private condominium homes still in the process of being constructed and landscaped.
"What's that you've got there?" Grant asked, nodding his head at the roll of recording tape thai
Sarah still clutched.
"Nothing," Sarah stammered. "N-n-nothing at all."
When Grant drove down her street, Sarah had him pull up in front of the house and she jumped out of the car with a quick thanks.
"Is that all I get?" Grant asked. His question shook Sarah, alarm bells flashed in her head.
What more does he want? she thought. A salacious vision of his black man flesh poking into her privates presented itself, his black mouth fastened on her white breasts. Sarah shivered. She knew what he wanted, but he wasn't going to get it.
"Thanks," she repeated, then turned and ran into her house.
For a long time Grant sat in front of the small cottage in his car. Sarah peeked out the window at him periodically. Finally he seemed to have made his mind up about something and drove off. She sighed with relief but relentlessly paced about her living room.
Sarah couldn't understand why Peter Grant's nearness awakened a quivery feeling in her body, the forbidden tingle in her loins. By sheer force of will, she thrust the black man out of her thoughts. For the first time, the implication of what she had done came to her. Sooner or later Koken was going to realize the tape was gone and that Sarah had taken it. When that happened, she knew Arnie Koken would come looking for her. The material on that tape was enough to topple Koken's construction empire. The implication that a city councilman was on Koken's payroll, and in fact was feeding Koken secret information to win city bids, would probably be enough to put him in jail.
He deserves it. . . the bastard, Sarah thought, using the strongest expression in her vocabulary, after what he tried to do to me. Impulsively her hands slid down her round, firm thighs, sending tremors of feeling through her body.
It had been hard for Sarah to keep her virginity. She was good-looking and sexually attractive, a point not lost on the boys she had gone to school with. But there had always been something worse than animalistic, it seemed to her, about the sexual act, something truly degrading about letting some man mount her and shove his long, fat piece of meat into her body. As Koken had almost done.
It was more than just her virginity at stake, though. All her teenage life, Sarah remembered the awful fascination a man's sex organ had for her. Her body burned with a strange fever when men came too near or pursued her too boldly. Sometimes she thought her fear was of her own sexuality . . . her own irresponsible response to the feelings aroused in her sweaty crotch. If she could only remember . . . Sarah tried to shake off the sudden depression that always gripped her when she thought about her childhood. She weighed the tape in her hand and debated what to do with it. Return it to Koken? she thought. Never. Perhaps send it to the local newspaper or county prosecutor's office? Sarah shook her head. That wouldn't do either. The tape recordings weren't evidence. Without her testimony as a witness as to who was talking on the tape it was doubtful that it would cause any disruption in Koken's activities at all.
That's when the idea began to formulate in Sarah's mind. The tape and her silence could be worth a lot of money to Arnie Koken. A lot of money! And if she was going to get even with the gross contractor, there was no better way of doing it than through his pocketbook.
Sarah smiled and lifted the spool of tape idly. Some people she knew would call what she was planning blackmail, but to Sarah it was just a way of getting even. The telephone rang. Sarah put down the tape and lifted the receiver. In a suddenly fear-constricted voice she said, "Hello."
"Is that you, Sarah?" Arnie Koken's growl was no more pleasant over the telephone than it was in person.
"Yes. . . Mr. Koken," Sarah said. She leaned against the telephone stand, her knees weak from the sudden tension and fear that Koken's voice generated in her.
"When you left," Koken said, "did you take something with you, Sarah?"
"No," she said. "Yes!" She changed her mind. It was fortunate that she was leaning against the telephone stand. Its sharp edge pressed heavily against her pubic mound, literally supporting her. It seemed to Sarah as if Koken's voice was an extension of him in the room with her. She felt strange again, as if his thick lips were licking and sucking at the tight slit of her vagina.
"You're going to bring it back, aren't you?" Arnie asked.
Sarah sagged against the telephone stand, feeling it press hard into her love mound, spreading the puffy, soft lips against the varnished wood, and an unaccustomed thrill lanced through her body. She straightened and the friction bore into her moisture-slick slit. Slowly she ground her pelvis against the wooden stand. Arnie's voice beating her ear seemed to strike a sexual desire in Sarah.
She moaned. Her hips rotated, sliding her fur-covered pubes in regular rhythm across the stand. Sarah couldn't stop herself, and it seemed as if reflex and instinct had taken over. Her hips worked back and forth, trapping the pointed corner of the stand between her thighs and rubbing the sharp tip against her yearning crotch.
Sarah grunted. She was banging her pubes with jack-hammer strokes against the table. Her body was a flame roaring out from the tunnel of her sex, which was so agonizingly empty. Sarah grunted again. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead.
"Sarah. Sarah. Sarah." The voice on the telephone droned. "What's happening? Talk to me." The frantic appeal in Koken's voice touched an inner core in Sarah's mind. The terrible convulsion shook her body and she sighed as she sagged against the telephone stand, the pointed corner jammed deeply into her slot by her own weight.
"Ooooooohohohummmm."
"Sarah," Arnie demanded. "What's happening?"
"Nothing," Sarah said. "Nothing, Mr. Koken." She laughed shrilly.
"Are you going to come over here?" Koken asked, "or am I going to have to go over there?"
For a long moment Sarah held the telephone, staring at it, not prepared to answer. Then very quietly she said, "Neither, Mr. Koken. If you want this tape, it's going to cost you . . . ten thousand dollars."
There was a silence on the other end of the telephone line, an onimous lack of sound that was broken by Koken's angry growl. "You stupid bitch," he snarled. "All you'll get is a kick in the ass. Who do you think you're playing games with? I'm coming over. You better hand that tape over to me when I get there."
"No," Sarah said. "If you try to take it from me, I'll go to the police."
Koken laughed. "You better think again. Martinez can handle the Police Department."
Sarah felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe, just maybe, Koken is telling the truth. She let her hand fall with the receiver clutched in it.
Koken's voice was still coming from the earpiece. "You bitch. Goddamn fuckin' bitch. You better be there when I get over there," he repeated.
Then Sarah dropped the receiver on the cradle and cut him off. She knew Koken wasn't making an idle threat in any case, about coming to the house. The easiest thing to do perhaps would be to surrender the tape, but Sarah had no delusions about her rough-shod boss, and once he had the tape he was sure to rape her, if nothing else. Just out of a sense of fury.
She picked the tape up. She was in too deep to back out now. And like it or not, she had to go ahead with her plan. It only took her a minute to throw a couple of changes of clothes into a bag and dash out the back door. Panic clutched at her. Koken would be coming down the street any moment. She felt sure that he would feel no compunction about getting out of his truck and assaulting her on the sidewalk. Blind terror guided her as she hurried down several back streets into Oxnard's downtown business district.
She had nowhere to go, nobody to turn to. Sarah felt terribly naked, exposed, standing on the street comer. Most of the stores were closed anyway. If she went in one she had to come out again sooner or later.
A dingy sign in one of the more decrepit buildings caught Sarah's eye. "Rooms for rent," it said, "by the day or week." Clutching her bag containing the tape in one hand and her purse in the other, Sarah stepped out of the hot, glaring sunlight into the squalid shadowy interior of the hotel.
A rummy old man with a three-day growth of white whiskers stared at her as if she were anapparition, and said, "Yes?"
"I want a room," Sarah said. "Please." "Yes?" the old man repeated. "I want a room." Sarah's voice shrieked just a little on the end of the sentence.
The old man adjusted his rimless glasses on his nose, peered at Sarah again as if he were uncertain as to what he saw, and then pulled a card from a file under his desk and laid it onthe counter. "That's one," he said. "Three dollars a day or eighteen dollars a week."
"I'll take it," Sarah said.
"By the day or the week?"
"I don't know." Sarah was uncertain what to do. She had no idea how long she would have to hide from Koken before he realized he was going to have to pay her.
The old man's eyes flicked appreciatively down Sarah's body, caressing the round globes of her breasts, dipping to the hollow between her thighs and finally peeping at her nylon-clad legs beneath her short skirt. Slowly his tongue licked at his dry lips. "Day or week?" he repeated.
"I. . . I guess a week will do," Sarah said. She opened her purse carefully, counted out eighteen dollars to the old man who released the card and put a pen next to it.
On the blank for name, Sarah put down Sasha Hunnicutt. She scribbled in a made-up address in Los Angeles.
"My key?" Sarah held her hand out on the counter, palm up. Slowly the old man dropped a large key with a triangular piece of blue plastic attached to it. His hand pressed down harder than it needed to and caressed Sarah's warm flesh.
He stared pointedly into her eyes until Sarah felt warm all over. She felt dirty as if the old man were propositioning her for some perverted act. Quickly she snatched the key away, relieved as she felt his fingers leave her. In faded gold lettering on the plastic was the number nineteen.
"I'll show you where it is," the old man grinned, showing a gaped-tooth row of teeth. He started to hobble from behind the counter.
But Sarah quickly said, "Never mind. Thanks. I'll find it," and sped up the steep, narrow stairway, acutely conscious that with each step she took the old man's eyes crawled higher up the backs of her thighs, seeing the feminine frilly-blue slip she had worn. Sarah blushed. Possibly the old man could see the dark crotch of her pantyhose. She almost ran the last few steps, having never felt so exposed before in her life.
The musty corridor had five doors opening onto it. The hotel had once been a house. Sarah had no great hope for the room that was behind the peeling paint on the door to nineteen. She wasn't surprised when she was inside and noted only an old brass bed with a lumpy mattress, a tired nightstand with cracked varnish, a dresser, one hard straight-backed chair grotesque in its coating of red kitchen enamel. Sarah sat on the bed and bounced unhappily on the lumpy mattress, listening to the cacophony of protesting springs.
Straight out her door at the other end of the hall was another door marked bathroom. She heard footsteps on the stairs outside and, not wishing to meet any of her neighbors, quickly shut the door, slipping the night chain into the brass runner. Sarah looked at the bed without enthusiasm. There was nothing much to do except wait. She lay back on the ragged bedspread, folded her arms under her head and slipped into an uneasy nap.
When Sarah awoke the room was in pitch blackness. She felt terribly lost and alone, disoriented. It took her a few minutes to remember what she was doing in a strange room and a cold feeling settled in her bowels as the seriousness of her position became apparent to her.
What she had done she had done in the heat of action without thinking. But there was something she had known subconsciously all along. Arnie Koken was a dangerous man.
She fumbled for the bedside light and turned it on, casting a glow of yellow light in the room. Getting to her feet, she went to the door and stood waiting, listening, and then opened it. There was nobody in the short hallway. She walked quickly across it to the bathroom door with its peeling green paint. She stepped inside and threw the bolt on the door.
Her bladder felt like it was bursting. Quickly she peeled her pantyhose down her thighs and sat on the stool. It was then that she fully and graphically realized that the rooming house she had picked was not exactly the most gracious accommodations for a young lady.
Staring her in the face was some of the most lewd graffiti she had ever seen anywhere. Sarah blushed as she recognized the words she never had spoken. The first thing that caught Sarah's eye was a huge penis drawn crudely in black pen with the inscription, "With any luck, you love to suck, come to Room Three."
Sarah had to turn her face away, the sign was so lascivious. She felt defenseless against this obscene message, sitting on the toilet straining to empty her bladder and get out of there. Another inscription read, "Carolyn sucks" and gave a telephone number.
Then there were a bunch of names like Audrey, $15., 298-4061; Angel, $5. for a blow job, 298-7443; Hand-job Hanna, 298-4669; and Ass-end Mary, $20., 298-6924, and in parentheses after Ass-end Mary was the notation: She's a gas.
Sarah was shocked and realized that what she was reading were the telephone numbers for a bunch of girls who obviously performed perversions for money, that the men who lived in this dingy hotel sat on the same stool she was sitting on and copied those numbers down while shitting into the bowl.
Sarah's bladder felt like it was bursting but she couldn't let go. She was so horrified at understanding what she had let herself in for that she couldn't even piss. Desperately her eyes searched the walls for a blank spot that wouldn't be an embarrassment to her. But Sarah looked without success. Artistically inscribed on the back of the door was a huge . . . vagina. Sarah gasped as she traced the lines of the drawing with her eyes .and suddenly realized that if she looked at it just right a big penis was slowly inching its way into the vagina.
Suddenly her urinary tract opened up and with a rush, the steaming hot liquid poured out of her, splattering noisily into the bowl. Hastily Sarah dried her vulva off with a piece of toilet paper, shivering erotically as the rough material sensitized her genitals. She flushed the toilet and pulled up her pantyhose, settling them firmly in place so they again cupped the bulge of her pubic mound. She straightened the hem of her skirt, pulled her blouse straight, and opened the door.
"Oh," she said, her eyes wide with shock. Standing on the landing, looming huge and black in the dim overhead light was Peter Grant.
Slowly his mouth spread in a huge grin. His eyes lighted up, seeing her framed in the bathroom doorway. "Well, if it isn't little Miss Purity," he said. "Well, well, well."
Chapter Three
Sarah looked down at herself reflexively. She felt as if her pantyhose were hanging around her thighs, or her skirt was unbuttoned, or one of her breasts was sticking out of her blouse. The big black man's gaze seemed to strip her naked. She shut the door behind her and sidled around the chocolate-colored construction worker, wary of the muscular strength in his neck and shoulders, and in his big, square sensual face with its full lips and broad nose.
She was about to slam the door of her room when Grant said, conversationally, "Arnie Koken's looking for you."
Sarah felt the blood drain out of her face. She knew she must appear chalk white. If Arnie Koken was looking for her and Peter Grant knew where she was, then where could she go? Koken would be over in a matter of minutes.
"Don't worry," Grant said, and he took a step toward her. "Amie Koken isn't one of my favorite people." He winked lasciviously. "I think I just might be persuaded not to tell him where you are hiding." Grant's big, muscular body was almost pressing against Sarah.
It seemed as if the warmth of his body penetrated her blouse and skirt and warmed her thighs and breasts. She backed away and the tall Negro followed her, shutting the door silently behind him as he stepped into her room.
"What do you want?" Sarah asked.
"Nothing. . . much," Grant replied. His eyes roamed around the small room, noting the undisturbed condition of it. "Koken's been saying you stole the company payroll, and there're a lot of studs out looking for you right now." Grant shook his head. "They won't go to the police if they find you."
"That's ridiculous," Sarah gasped. "I've never stolen anything in my life."
"Maybe," Grant said, "and maybe not. But I think you're afraid of Arnie Koken."
Sarah shivered. Peter Grant couldn't have been more right about anything. She was afraid of Koken. She picked up her bag from the chair beside the bed and started to leave. Grant stood in front of the door.
"Just hold on a minute," he said. "Just you hold on a minute. I don't think you've got to go nowhere."
"I. . . I don't understand," Sarah stammered. She sat on the bed and Grant sat down next to her.
He put his brown arm around her and his big, square, work-hardened fingers began stroking the silk fabric over her breasts. Sarah struggled to get away but she couldn't. He was too strong for her and held her prisoner in the circle of his arms. His fingers were hot on the soft swell of her breasts. She could feel her nipples responding, hardening and growing like small buds.
"Don't," she said.
But her protest was weakened by the fact that she had started responding involuntarily. It seemed to her as if her breasts were pushing themselves into his hands, which got rougher and rougher. She looked down and watched his big brown fingers squeezing and kneading her large mounds. "Don't," SArah whispered.
"Sure," Grant said. "Sure." He pulled her down on the bed so that she was laying on her back with her feet over the sides and on the floor. He half rolled on top of her and she felt his big hand caressing the inside of her thigh, moving up her leg under her skirt.
He's going to rape me, Sarah thought hysterically.
She could see in her mind's eye his black hand moving toward her crotch, his fingers eager to plunge into her wet slit. Her hips were moving unconsciously and her breath rasped in and out of her lungs in short, hard bursts. Grant's hand was kneading the inside of her thigh, squeezing and caressing her tender white flesh, sending thrills of pleasure radiating up into her body.
She arched her back and it drove his fingers closer to her crotch. She could feel her secretions turning her panties into a soggy mess. She thought of his fingers as huge, brown sausages that in another moment would be plunging into her virgin hole. "No," she moaned. "Nooo."
Grant just laughed and with one hand began unbuttoning her blouse. Slowly he drew her blouse off her, drawing it over her arms. Then he unsnapped her bra. Sarah's creamy-white tits spread like soft bean-bags on her chest, topped by ruby-red nipples. Grant's breath caught in his throat as he stared down at them.
His head came down and his thick, dark Negroid lips enfolded one of Sarah's tits. She cried out. His lips were hot. His mouth was wet. The sensation at first tickled, and as it became more insistent as he sucked at her swelling nipple, it turned to something else. Pleasure!
Sarah could feel her whole breast swelling, getting bigger. She tried to move but Grant had her pinned to the bed. His big, flat tongue was licking the pudding-soft flesh of her breast, stroking it until she was forced to put her arms around his close-cropped head and pull his face down against her so his mouth would swallow her soft flesh and stop teasing it. It felt so good Sarah was moaning. His mouth was setting her on fire.
Sarah started moaning and writhing. "Oh God, don't stop," she said. Sarah was aghast to hear herself say it..
Suddenly Grant raised his head off her throbbing aching breast, and stared into her eyes. "You want that?" he asked softly. "You like that?"
"Yes. . . No." Sarah couldn't get her feeling together. Her body was flailing against the big
Negro's, begging him to touch her, to stroke her body, to thrill her until she couldn't move any more. But deep inside she was screaming hysterically, shrilly and silently.
"Please . . ." she sobbed.
Sarah stared into Grant's face, seeing him clearly for the first time. His black eyes were smoldering and somber, wide-spaced under a broad forehead and split by a prominent, sharp-edged nose. His skin was warm and brown and his large ears lay flat against his head - almost disappearing into his close-cropped curly-black hair. The realization stirred belatedly in Sarah that he was sexy.
"Please don't do it," she begged.
She rolled off the bed and stood up. Grant stayed still, staring at her with what seemed to be hurt eyes when she suddenly whirled and ran out of the door, slamming it closed behind her. Her breasts were bobbing obscenely out of her unbuttoned blouse. She hooked her bra in place and buttoned her blouse as she ran down the stairs. Grant's footsteps pursued her then stopped as she burst into the lobby of the rooming house.
The rummy old man lifted his head and stared near-sightedly at her for a moment, but Sarah didn't pause and went straight out the front door and into the darkness of the street.
Sarah was terrified that Grant would catch her, that the Negro would make her give in to his advances. She blindly ran down the street, driven as much by fear of herself as fear of Grant who, she knew deep inside, would follow her.
Oxnard was three-quarters closed that late in the evening. Only the honkytonks, cocktail lounges, and the primarily Mexican bars were still open, garishly lighted by neon signs outside their doors.
Sarah had left her purse and everything else she had brought from the house in her room. She had nowhere to go, so desperately she decided to go back to the house and pick up some other things and an extra chedkbook that was in her bureau drawer.
The night was full of strange sounds, scary noises. Sarah had to remind herself constantly that they were the result of her imagination and not in fact threats to her. Her heels rapped loudly on the deserted sidewalk as she hurried down the street toward her rented cottage.
She paused at the gate to the yard, staring at the house. It seemed all right; deserted, the window black, the door closed tightly. Sarah pushed the rusty gate inward, shivering at the squeaking sound it made, walking up the porch. Fortunately, she had left an extra key on top of the porch light, after her unnerving experience of going back to the trailer office the day before.
She reached up and fumbled around on top of the light for a minute before her fingers felt the cold smooth brass of the key. Then she unlocked the door The click was disproportionately loud in the still night air.
As she stepped into the familiar surroundings of her own house, Sarah began to feel better, more secure. It had been, she decided, a mistake to leave the house in the first place. What can Arnie Koken do anyway? Pay or lose his business. She had the upper hand. She shut the door and reached her hand out for the light switch on the wall. Then she stopped suddenly, gasping with terror.
Her hand was touching something warm and soft. A light flared and Sarah cried out. There were two men in the room, husky, broken-nosed bruisers, the sort who staggered half drunk onto every construction job and disappeared after a few weeks or months once they had enough money to go on another bender.
"Arnie's looking for you," the bigger of the two said. Bigger perhaps, but probably no heavier or stronger than his muscle-bound companion. He grinned at Sarah, revealing several missing teeth. "You be a good girl," he said, "and give us what Amie wants, and we'll let you alone."
The other man, the stockier one, grinned bleakly, and said, "Yeah."
"Get out of my house," Sarah ordered, her voice quivering.
"Now that ain't no way to treat us," the construction bum said. He put his hand on Sarah's ripe breast and gently squeezed. She moaned. It was the same breast that Peter Grant, only minutes before, had been sucking and mauling. It was still tender and moist.
"Don't do that," Sarah insisted.
"Why not?" the bigger man squeezed harder and the pleasurable feelings Sarah had, became mingled with pain.
"Because," she gasped, "I don't have anything that Arnie's looking for. Why don't you look and see?"
"We already have." The man increased his pressure on Sarah's breast and it definitely turned into sharp, biting pain. "I think, Jim," the bigger man said, "we're gonna have a little fun."
"Yeah, Cliff," Jim replied. His mouth was twisted in a leer and his eyes gleamed lecherously. He licked his dry mouth with his tongue. "Can I go first, Cliff?" he asked.
"Not this time," the big man replied. "I think I'm gonna get a little of this for myself. You can have what's left over. Go ahead and turn the light out. We don't want any nosy neighbors coming over. Make it look like she's sleeping, like she's gone to bed."
"I'll scream," Sarah said. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer. She was terrified of the two men. "If you don't let me go this instant, I'll scream. I'll getthe police down here." Only her words were cut off in mid-sentence and she mumbled the last few words, because the big man had his hand over her mouth. And then the lights blinked out.
Sarah shivered. She felt a man's hand groping up her nylon-clad thigh. She was terrified, almost paralyzed with fright. She wanted to scream but her vocal cords were frozen and the air in her lungs seemed to have turned to a block of dry ice.
While one of the men held her, keeping his hand over her mouth, the other was pushing her skirt over her hips and pulling her pantyhose down.
"No," Sarah moaned through the clenched fingers. But the men ignored her. In a moment the hands were back, feeling, pinching and squeezing the soft inner flesh of her thighs.
She felt Jim's fingers slipping sensuously up and up and up until she shivered and the thrill of contact soared through her body. She couldn't believe it but her vagina was dripping wet. It felt hopelessly expanded, enlarged, so swollen and ultra sensitive that she almost opened her legs to relieve the pressure.
The man's fingers played lasciviously over her smooth cunt lips, sliding slickly from the bottom of her slot to the top, then rubbing at the round swollen knob of her clitoris. Sarah thrashed and moaned. A moan that was turning from indignation to pleasure. Something stiff and firm plunged into her tunnel. She arched her back. The sensations coming from inside her body around that foreign object were so good she had to scream and gurgle in her throat. She realized that the man had jammed a finger up her body and was feeling the inside of her vaginal passage. It was humiliating, more embarrassing even than terrifying, that her body could be violated this way. She slammed her thighs tightly together and tried to constrict the muscles in her cunt to force the man's hand away. But he didn't retreat. Instead, new feelings of joy spasmed around her vagina as her tightening muscles battled the man's sausage finger. She gasped. Another finger was being pushed into her, spreading, pulling apart her tight vaginal lips.
Sarah wanted to cry out but she was panting for air, drawing it in in deep, sucking gasps. Her body was one huge muscular convulsion of pleasure, all centering around those probing fingers boring into her cunt. She hadn't realized it before, but the hand that held her mouth was gone. Instead her blouse was being opened and another pair of hands were squeezing and kneading her lush, full breasts.
Her nipples were burning and the goosebumps seemed to be sprouting around them, making her breasts unbearably prickly. And then the man's hot mouth was sucking at her breast, his teeth clamped over her rigid nipples, drawing on them, milking them. His fingers continued to squeeze and knead the soft flesh of her tits. Sarah was gasping out loud with each tightening of his hand.
Sarah's mind and body were transported. They seemed to exist only as a physical manifestation of pleasure. Her hips were pounding against the floor as she rocked and swayed and churned against those probing fingers, and her breast pushed roughly at the hot mouth that sucked on them.
A fire was spreading out through her lower belly from her cunt. The rough friction of those two huge fingers sawing in and out of her, pushing past the tightly constructed hymen of her cherry, was churning her insides. She couldn't help it but she was smashing her hips downward, trying to engulf more and more of the probing digits.
"Goddamn, she's hot!" one of the men said. "Just about right," the other chuckled. "Get off her. I'm going to stick my prick in that tight little hole and see if she's really a cherry."
"Like hell," the other man snorted his contempt. "I'm going first round on this one." "Says who?"
Suddenly Sarah was alone on the floor, still writhing and gasping and shifting her body, searching for those pleasure-giving fingers and mouths that had been all over her an instant before. Above her she could see the two men standing facing each other, their faces and figures dark blurs in the blacked-out room.
"Me," one of them said. "I'm going first and that's the way it is."
"Fuck you!" Jim's hand lashed out, a shadowy blur that pounded Cliff on the chest, sending him reeling backward.
"Cocksucker!" Sarah thought it was Cliff's voice, hissing out of the darkness.
He started to get up, then Sarah realized the door of the cottage was swinging silently inward. Cliff lunged from the floor athis partner. There was a grunt when they collided. And then the cottage door swung all the way in and a big, broad-shouldered shape swept into the room, lashing out with what seemed to be an extended right arm. There were more grunts and groans and a heavy thud.
Sarah stared up fearful and still half dazed. Only one man was standing in the room. He closed the door and turned on a light. Sarah was blinded, her eyes hurt. She couldn't see for a second, and then as her vision returned she realized that the man standing there was the big, broad-shouldered Negro, Peter Grant. He moved his hand and threw a short piece of two-by-four on the floor.
Cliff and Jim were sprawled unconscious on the carpet, Cliff bleeding from a long cut along the side of his head.
"You killed them?" Sarah asked.
"No such luck," the chocolate-colored man rumbled. "Those two've got super hard heads."
He reached down and grabbed one of Sarah's arms and pulled her to her feet. She was still quivering and her hands and feet felt as if they didn't belong to her. Grant stooped once again and pulled her pantyhose off her right foot where it had been wrapped when she struggled with the two men.
"Let's go," Grant said brusquely.
Before Sarah could object, he had jerked her out the front door, slammed it behind them, ran her out into the street and stuffed her into his car. He gunned the motor, getting away from the house. Sarah looked back in time to see the front door of the bungalow swinging open, one of the two men staggering out, shaking his head. Then they were around the corner and out of sight. "Where are we going?" Sarah asked. "Back to the hotel," Grant said. "I don't want to go with you." "Tough." Grant wheeled the car around another corner and slammed it into a parking slot. "You don't go with me, then I'll tell Koken where you are. And from the looks of it, that could be a lot worse than what my company could do for you. Besides," Grant's brown face clouded as he laughed bitterly, "I'm not going to dirty myself by touching your pure white body."
Sarah's mind was in a whirl. She didn't know what to think, where to turn. All she knew for certain was that Arnie Koken was taking violent and immediate steps to get her and that tape. And Grant was right about one thing, she didn't want those two sex monsters to catch up with her again. Grant shoved her into the hotel lobby and hustled her up the stairs. The old man seemed to take her hurried entrances and exits from his establishment as a fact of existence and barely blinked as she went by.
Grant dragged her up the stairs. Sarah was panting by the time she got to her room where he pushed her inside and then followed, slamming the door behind them. He latched the night chain.
"You can run around all you want," Grant said; running a lustful eye over her soft curves, "but I don't think it's too healthy for you out there right now.
"Aren't you . . . aren't you going to go?" Sarah stammered. She wanted more than anything else for Grant to get out of her room so that when she put the night chain on, it wasn't only Koken's men she was secure from, but from Grant also.
"You know," Grant said, leering at Sarah, "I thought you were going to reward me first."
Sarah's eyes flicked to her purse lying on the dresser.
"How?" Her voice quavered. "How am I going to do that?" She edged away from Grant.
"Oh," he said and sneered, "you'll think of a way, won't you?"
Chapter Four
The big, muscular Negro moved toward Sarah. Instinctively she backed off until she was against the window facing the street. She couldn't back away any further.
"I won't do it," she said. "I'm a virgin and - and I'm not going to let you rape me, even if I have to go back to Koken."
Grant stopped, his eyes gleaming with amusement "Well," he said, "I wasn't planning on raping you But I'm sure we can work out some sort ol compromise. After all, I stuck my neck out for yoi tonight. Koken wouldn't like it if he ever finds ou who laid his boys out that way."
"What- what kind of compromise?" Sarah stammered.
"Oh, nothing much." Grant walked over to the bed, sprawled out on it on his back. "You take care of me a little, baby doll, and I'll take care of you."
Almost casually his hand went down to his pants and he unbuttoned the front of his Levis. Sarah almost cried out. His big, black penis leapt into view, seemingly as thick as her forearm and almost as long. She turned her eyes away, her body trembling.
Sarah couldn't admit even to herself how much the black man's strong, loose-jointed body beckoned to her. Her mouth filled with saliva and her throat worked convulsively as she stared at the huge black bulge that welled up from Grant's crotch.
"I can't," Sarah whispered. "Won't you understand? I can't!"
"I understand all right," Grant rumbled bitterly. "You're saving that tight white ass of yours for some little white prick. You're afraid that some of the color will rub off a black cock if it ever gets jammed up that tight, white cunt of yours." \ "No," Sarah moaned. "It isn't that way at all." The girl couldn't take her eyes off the huge knob projecting from Grant's groin. She licked her lips with Jier pink tongue. It was as if she were transported pack in time to the psychologist's office. Only this ^ime the tall, fatherly man was offering to fill Sarah's desires. And suddenly, after so many years of Imfulfilled want, Sarah was desperately afraid to Continue, to remember. "I'm right, aren't I?" Grant demanded. "Get out!" Sarah screamed. Her muscles wouldn't pbey her brain. In the back of her mind, Sarah was entranced by that huge phallic object. The thought of it sliding roughly up the tight tunnel of her vagina, tearing her apart, splitting her to the very center of her being, was a flame of anticipation inside her.
Sarah told herself that it would never happen, that she'd prevent him ever getting that huge thing into her virgin slit. But she was irresistibly drawn toward the bed.
"What... what do you want me to do?" she whispered in a hoarse voice.
"Come over here. Sit." Peter Grant slapped the bed where he wanted her. Sarah sidled over and sat down primly on the edge of the mattress, her feet firmly on the floor so that she could run if he made so much as a false move.
"Look at it," Grant said. "Go ahead." He laughed. "I promise I'm not going to lay a finger on you." He folded his hands behind his head.
Slowly Sarah turned her gaze toward that shiny-smooth pillar of evil black man skin. She'd seen pictures of penises in books before but never anything like this. Grant's erection lanced straight up from his body like a flagpole, brown with a loose foreskin darker than the rest, and a huge purple-brown ball on the end. Almost by reflex Sarah put her hand out and felt the hot throb of his flesh on her palm.
Her fingers curled around the massive staff encountering the wet flow of his preseminal fluid that was lubricating his penis. Her hand slipped slowly sensuously down the long rod with a smooth squeezing motion that made the Negro writhe. Her hand opened and she stroked the thick column feeling the throb of blood that kept it engorged.
"What - what do you want me to do?" she asked again.
Grant chuckled. "What you're doing now. Go ahead. Feel it."
Sarah's cheeks flushed red, but she did as he told her, taking her hand up again to that round ball on the end of his cock and enclosing it in her fist. It felt so warm, so hot. She quivered. She actually was holding a man's cock in her hand. Not just a cock, but a black man's cock, and it felt strangely familiar.
Grant's skin seemed five times darker by comparison with the creamy whiteness of her own skin. She pushed down and for the first time noticed the huge slit that opened in the end of his prick, then her hand was over the wrinkled foreskin and seemed to zoom to the base. The feel of his penis slipping through her fingers was exhilarating, thrilling.
Sarah began pumping her hand up and down on his long, hard cock, faster and faster. Grant was enjoying it. His heels were braced against the bed and his hips were thrusting his cock out against the pounding of her hand. When her hand circled the base of his penis, his hairy balls rubbed against it. Impulsively she slipped her fingers open and then down to hold his soft, warm sack in her palm.
"Kiss it," Grant whispered. "Kiss it."
Sarah bobbed her head down. She laid her soft lips against the purple knob on the end of the Negro's penis. A strong, peculiar sex odor filled her nostrils. She was only doing it, she told herself, because she was afraid, because if she didn't, Arnie Koken would get to her and something worse would happen.
She opened her mouth slightly and that big moist head slipped between her lips, making her stretch her mouth wide. Her nostrils were filled again with the musk odor of Grant's sex. The sweaty musk from between a man's legs. She could feel her saliva gathering over that slick piece of flesh. Tentatively, her tongue flicked out, touched the head of Grant's penis, then circled around it.
Sarah sucked and tasted his cock flesh. It was bland. There was almost no taste. But like a fine spice, slowly Sarah became aware of his flavor. It filled her mouth. She slipped her lips further down his rod until her whole mouth was full. She was sucking and slurping at it. She had forgotten she was afraid. She loved the feel of his prick in her mouth and the taste of him.
"Mmmmmmm," she moaned around his big black cock.
Her hand played with his balls, lifting them and dropping them to flow over her fingers. With her other hand, she stroked the part of the shaft that wouldn't go in her mouth. It was a glorious sensation. Sarah felt electrified from her own cunt to the pointed tips of her breasts.
Grant put his hand on her thigh. She shivered but she didn't try to push it away. She was too involved in that new experience of sucking his cock. She could feel and taste the clear fluid welling up out of the slot in the end of his prick, and ravenously she tried to get more and more.
Grant was moaning and pitching, then his hand slipped up Sarah's thigh and touched her joy box. It was pouring out fluid in a steady stream, salivating in, its own way. An intense feeling of pleasure stabbed all the way through Sarah's body, as if she were impaled on a long stick as Grant's finger touched her sensitive clitoris.
"Oooooh, stretch it out a little bit," Sarah moaned. "What are you doing?"
"Feeling your cunt," Grant said, his long finger, curiously black on the top and white underneath, poked through the red fur covering Sarah's slit.
Sarah stifled a cry. Grant's finger slipping into the crevice between her thighs was delicious. She felt her vagina reacting to the intrusion by clasping her warm, puffy cunt lips around it.
"Ooooooh, you've got to stop that," Sarah moaned. "Please. Please stop that." But she didn't really want Grant to stop. Sarah realized that her cries were false. What she wanted was for that delightful tingle in her crotch to go on and on and on.
She pressed her pelvis toward him, impaling herself even further on that probing finger. Her hand freed Grant's upthrust penis as she lost herself in the delirium of the sensation he was plowing in her loins. Suddenly the feeling of fullness, of delight, was gone. The stretching sensation in her crotch had disappeared, leaving a vacant throbbing in its place.
Weakly she turned her head to look at the Negro's serene, smiling face.
"Please," she begged, "don't stop now. Not now!" Sarah felt as if she were burning up, as if her cunt were on fire, drooling for the touch of Grant's black hand. Saying nothing, Grant pulled his pants off, and then his shirt, revealing a compact, muscular, round body that glinted in the light of the room. He lay back on the bed, sprawled out in obvious invitation. Sarah bit her lip. She knew what he wanted. Grant's huge prick throbbed and beat with the pulse of his blood. His balls were huge and tight and warmly black-brown.
"What you want me to do is evil," she protested. Sarah believed her accusation. The consequences of. . . of sex had been drummed into her since that day her parents died.
She tried to resist the Negro, to hold back, but her whole body was a searing flame. She was engulfed by it, drawn to his long, thick prick as if it were a magnet and she an iron filing. Shedding her clothes, Sarah knelt naked on the bed, her skin creamy white in sharp contrast to the darkness of Grant's body. Her breasts were milk-white globes, the nipples flushed and fiery red. As she knelt, her face only inches away from Grant's throbbing prick, her tits swung down in two perfect-shaped cones of soft flesh, aching to be mauled and kneaded. Her red hair fell in a curtain of red curls around her face, stroking Grant's prick with feather-light touches.
Slowly Sarah lowered her head, drawn by the irresistible throbbing heat of his thick, brown prick. Her lips were half open when they settled on the moist ball of his cock. This time Sarah knew what she was doing. A primitive instinct guided her as her red lips slid slowly down, swallowing Grant's black fuck meat until it was rubbing against the back of her mouth. She breathed in, inhaling the warm, musky odor of his sex, then ran her mouth up the long shaft. Grant groaned. "Oh, baby," he cried. "Ooooooh, baby."
His big, black hands settled over her head, holding it firmly and urging her mouth up and down on his saliva-slick rod. Sarah felt the throb of his cock in her mouth and savored it even though Grant was forcing her to suck his prick. And then he pulled her head of and was urging her body up his. As if in a trance, Sarah felt his flesh rub against hers as he pulled her up until her lips were on his. Passing the taste of his sperm-swollen prick to his mouth, Grant's fat tongue lanced out and caressed her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth. His hands slid warmly, like two great black spatulas over her back, in caresses that ended with his fingers cupping her round, taut buttocks.
Grant's fingers kneaded and squeezed her behind, sliding into the crack of her rear. "Aaaauuuggg," Sarah moaned. The pleasure flowed from Sarah, warm and soft and squishy. She was sopping wet between her thighs. It was blissful - and yet something was driving her on. The desire, the itch in her cunt was intolerable. Grant's hands slipped between their bodies. She felt his palms on her lower belly and finally they clamped on to the soft mounds of her tits, already squished against his chest. His fingertips were fire on her breast, sending sensations lancing through her body rhat seemed to concentrate in her cunt.
She held her arms around him and rocked her body back and forth, half crying, half moaning. The big, round head of his prick nestled against her tiny, virgin slot. It was hot. It was stretching her delightfully, even better than his finger had. Only the tip was in her, she could tell, and her body insanely desired more. But even his tip plowing that squishy, soft, virgin trough of pink pleasure was better than nothing. Slowly her hips gained a cadence of their own, flexing up and down, up and down, rubbing Grant's big, round penis against the entrance to her body.
"You can't do it," she sobbed wildly. "For your sake, please don't do it."
Grant's hands were tight on Sarah's buttocks. She clenched the muscles and felt his fingers digging into her, sending streaks of pleasure through her body.
"I can't stop, baby," Grant groaned. "Don't you understand? I can't stop."
Grant's hands shoved downward on her flailing hips and his prick nestled against her "cunt like a battering ram, driving inside in one fierce lunge. "Iiiiiieeeee," Sarah cried.
It was as if a red-hot poker had been rammed up her tunnel to burrow into her belly. A fire burned and seared, particularly around the entrance to her body, but it was a delicious feeling. It was a hurt she loved and wouldn't have stopped if she could. She pressed her face against the bulging hard muscles of Grant's chest and opened her eyes, staring at his dark skin wonderingly while her cunt became used to the thick intruder in her body. Her knees had turned to water. She couldn't move. She was spitted on his thrusting prick.
Slowly Grant began to work his hips, sliding that huge piece of black meat in and out of her white hole. As each velvety inch of dark skin pulled out of her pink vagina, Sarah gasped. Her whole body convulsed with pleasure - and then Grant was shoving his big cock back inside her cunt.
His huge penis seemed like it was too much for her tiny hole to take. There was so much she could feel each magnificent inch as it forced its way into her gaping cunt until the black, curly coarse hair around Grant's pelvis was scratching at Sarah's puffy cunt lips. She sighed and groaned, feeling Grant's cock buried all the way into her belly, and she lifted her
1 ass, sliding that huge cock out of her until nothing more than the thick, bloated tip was lodged inside her slit.
Sarah laughed shrilly as she drove her hips down, impaling herself once again on that wonderful thing, that joy stick. She pulled off and went down again, and again, and again. She couldn't control her own body, shuddering around his prick. Without warning, she felt her climax engulfing her. Shoving down with her hips, Sarah swallowed Grant's magnificent prick all the way into her almost virginal cunt and clasped him tightly to her. Her legs were gripping his, her arms holding him tightly to her body while she shivered and her cunt quaked like mad, fluttering around that hard, slick black flesh.
It seemed to Sarah that Grant's prick had gotten hotter, fatter, and was throbbing and bobbing inside her, swelling fiercely.
"Ooooooh," she said. "Oh, oh, oh," as she felt the pouring of hot fluid into her cunt, spattering her vaginal walls, lighting a new fire in her belly while her knees gave out once again.
Sarah sprawled slackly on top of the Negro's body with his huge dark prick still jammed tightly up her pussy. For a long time it seemed to Sarah as if her orgasm had dissolved her bones and her flesh. She felt as if she were limply puddled on the soft, firm flesh of Grant's dark body. The fear she had been fighting off engulfed her in black regret. She was a jinx, she knew it.
She had let the memory bubble to the surface of her mind. When her daddy had touched her and let her play with him, with his prick, it had caused his death. His and mommy's. Sarah remembered that night as clearly as if it had happened a moment before, instead of ten years in the past. She had crawled in bed with her daddy. She was only eleven and she had been curious about that long, hard thing sticking up at his groin, tenting his pajamas. She remembered feeling between her own legs, feeling the smooth, slick slot and wondering how her daddy could make his pajamas stand up like that in his sleep. Sarah closed her eyes tight but couldn't shut out the image of that night. Before he knew what she was going to do, she had her hand on her daddy's cock. It felt warm and firm, like Grant's, and friendly. She had giggled and her daddy had come fully awake, his eyes suddenly wide open. He had grabbed at her, holding her. When she wouldn't let go of his penis with her hot, little hand he didn't push her away. He only groaned. Sarah remembered his eyes, pain stricken as if he was hurt.
"I'll make it better, daddy," she remembered saying, and then - then, Sarah felt dizzy. Then she had leaned forward and with her child lips caressed the swollen tip of her daddy's prick in a slobbery kiss to make it better, kissed it and licked it and then mommy had come in. Sarah felt her heart lurch to a halt. She remembered the bedroom door opening and light flooding the room. She didn't remember what happened after that. Not much anyway. Mommy and daddy fought, daddy strangely silent, stricken, and then they had gone out in the car and . . . and they never came back again.
Softly Sarah began to sob to herself, her tears running off her cheeks to splash hotly on Grant's chest.
"Don't cry," Grant's deep voice rumbled. His hands touched her gently, caressed the side of her face and his big, flat thumbs brushed the tears away from her big, blue eyes. "Don't cry, little baby," he said. "It isn't the end of the world."
Sarah looked into his wide, honest face, his hurt, black eyes. It didn't matter any more to her that he was a Negro. She just knew somehow that she had done something horrible to him, like she had done to her daddy and her mommy, horrible enough even to kill him.
Chapter Five
Gently Grant eased Sarah off his body, laying her out on the bed. She didn't resist. She was even thankful for the strength of his hands moving her, stretching her out. Grant gasped.
"Jesus God," he said. He was looking at her slightly spread thighs and the long streaks of pink Sood on her milk-white skin. Wonderingly, he stared down at his shriveling black prick also marked with thin streaks of almost invisible blood. "Jesus God, he repeated. "You were a virgin."
Wdly, Grant poured water from the pitcher onfoThanciowel and began to clean Sarah's cunt-long soothing strokes, drawing the rough-but-soft weave of the wet cloth up the long sweep of Sarah's pussy, dabbing tenderly at the slick flesh of her cunt lips.
"Ooooooh," Sarah moaned.
She put her hand down to her crotch and caught his wrists, holding the cloth motionless against her cunt. It was cool and soothing, but when he moved it it aroused her and made her hips want to buck, to drive it into her. Her breasts prickled, her nipples seemed made of molten lead. Even the skin around her cunt seemed different. She hurt, but it was an okay hurt. She felt good, better than she ever had before.
"Honest to God," Grant was saying. "I didn't think you were a virgin. I thought... I thought you were just another piece of white trash, putting me down because I'm black." Grant's hand brushed her fevered flesh. "Are you all right?"
Slowly Sarah nodded. Her red hair spread around her shoulders. "Yes," she said softly, "but- but I'm afraid."
"That you'll get pregnant?" Grant asked.
"No. No," she said. She stared into his face, at his eyes which seemed to be pleading for her to be all right. "I'm afraid for you."
"Listen, baby," Grant said, half jovially, "how can you be afraid for me? I don't remember it ever being hard on a man." .
"Maybe," Sarah said, staring at him with the conviction that she might be seeing him for the last time. She sniffed and tried to make her tears go away, but she never got them further than from just behind her 'eyes. She tried to grin. "It's all right," she lied. "Everything will be all right."
When Grant left her he promised to look in later. Sarah nodded sleepily before she crawled between the covers and fell into an easy, untroubled sleep.
It was daylight when Sarah awoke. Sunlight sparkled on the only window in the room, painting a big, bright patch of color on the threadbare carpet. Sarah slipped out of bed and groaned. The muscles in her loins protested, rebelling at the harsh treatment they had had the night before. Pulling on a robe, the redhead hurried across the. landing to the bathroom, her bladder aching with the need to empty itself.
Fortunately there was no one in the toilet. She was able to go in immediately and sit on the stool. The wild, hot rush of her urine out of her crack felt good. It flamed past the lips of her pussy in a wonderful, erotic feeling. Even the drawings and scrawls on the wall didn't bother Sarah as much as they had the day before. She even took some delight in comparing the long, dark penis shoving into the badly drawn vagina on the back of the door with Grant's huge, black rod, pushing into her white hole. The thought sobered her. Hurriedly she completed her toilet and went back to her room. Grant had left her, shewas sure of that. She had come to the point of relying on his presence, and she missed him. There was something comforting about the solid, muscular black man. She almost missed the note that propped against the water pitcher that said, "Went to work. See you tonight. Don't go out." It was signed "PG."
Although Grant's note was good advice, Sarah paced restlessly around the room. Several times she paused to examine the reel of tape. That was what they were after, she knew that. That was what would save her, too, and Grant. She had to think about Grant now.
He was in as much or more danger than she was, and after what had happened . . . she knew she was a jinx. She should have told him. Her watch had stopped but it must have been around noon when she made up her mind to do something. The sunlight was pouring straight down and, outside, the street was deathly still in a way that can only be found in places where the sun bakes the life out of the earth.
Dressing in a miniskirt and blouse and high heels, and wrapping the tape in newspaper, Sarah left her room. The old man looked up expectantly, his mouth half open in a gaping leer as Sarah came down the stairs and he caught glimpses of her pantie-covered pussy. She felt the stroking of his eyes through the thin fabric and instead of being upset about it as she would have been before, the knowledge that the old man could see her sex caused a thrill to ripple through her cunt.
"Could I get you to do something for me?" she asked the old man sweetly.
Leaning against his counter, she cupped her breasts between her arms, making them bulge indecently against the sheer white blouse. She hadn't wom a bra and her nipples dented the material, straining at it until she could feel the rough texture of the cloth exciting them and making them stick out even harder. The old man couldn't take his eyes off her nipples. He licked his lips, his tongue making a pink flashing motion around his mouth, accenting the paleness of his skin and the scraggly white and gray whiskers that showed he hadn't shaved for several days. "What?" he asked sharply.
"I want you to ... to keep something for me," Sarah said softly.
The old man didn't take his eyes off the soft, jutting mounds of her tits. "What?" he repeated again.
"A package." Sarah showed him the tape, neatly wrapped up in a discarded newspaper and some string she had found in her room. "Let me feel," the old man. It was Sarah's turn to ask, "What?" "I'll do it," the old man said. He licked his lips again. "If you let me feel them. Your breasts."
"I - I don't know," Sarah stammered. Suddenly the fear was back, the fear that the old man would do something sexual to her - that any man would. Sarah knew she was irrational. She was no longer a virgin and ... and she had to admit it, it felt beautiful. Perhaps - too beautiful.
"It's all right," the old man said. "Just let me do it, and that's all. I swear." His voice was pleading. "It's been so long ..."
Sarah weighed the tape in her hand against the revulsion she felt forming in her body. "All right," she said finally. "All right."
She forced herself to hold still, her breasts squeezed together in front of her. The old man's hands poised shakily over her jutting tit as his rummy old eyes seemed to see something that wasn't there. Almost imperceptibly his hand lowered, his fingertips shaking slightly. Lower, lower, and then an electric thrill galvanized Sarah and her whole body quivered as his fingertips rested hotly on her soft boob. Gently the old man's hands slid over her tit.
It was to Sarah like rubbing against silk. She felt her breasts suddenly break out in goosebumps. She was wet between the thighs again. The old man's hands continued to play with her, to weigh her, his fingers kneading her breasts; sending flashes of pleasure through her body. She was getting hot.
"Ooooooh," she said. "Ooooooh. My God."
The old man chuckled and quivered, pressed up against the counter on the other side, his fingers and palms moistly stroking her milk-white tits through the thin material of her blouse. Suddenly he quivered and gasped. His hands slipped off her breasts.
"Don't stop," Sarah gasped.
The old man sat back in his chair, sweat beading his forehead. His eyes were bulging and his chest was heaving. "I'm an old man," he gasped. "That's all I can take." He looked at her and his lips twisted in a silly grin. "But thanks."
"You're welcome," Sarah said automatically, dazed, feeling her body engulfed by desire, a flame of desire. She turned toward the stairway.
"The package?" the old man croaked. "You want me to keep the package?"
"Oh, yes," Sarah replied. She gave the old man the package and then determinedly climbed back up the stairs, not even noticing if his eyes followed her legs and snuck up under her skirt to examine her buttocks.
Sarah slammed the door to her room closed and leaned against it, panting. She didn't understand what was happening to her. The touch of the old man's fingers had started a burning in her body that she couldn't control. With unsteady fingers, she unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it off her heaving breasts. She slipped her skirt and lacy-white panties off, aware of the soft and incessant quivering of her white breasts.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped her white panties down her long, slender legs, then she lay back, her hair spreading in a red fan on her pillow. Gingerly she raised her fingers to her breasts, mesmerized by the pink sheen of her nails. Sarah's breasts seemed to rise eagerly toward her slowly descending hands. She watched her nails dent the soft, white flesh, thrilling to the sensation of her fingertips kneading her breast.
"Oooooh," she moaned, writhing under the stimulation of her own hands.
She imagined Grant's fingers holding her, squeezing her tits, and felt her juices start to flow in response. She wanted something big and hard crammed up her eager pussy. She had never felt like this before, never so intensely. She was horrified, and yet she couldn't stop. Her legs splayed open of their own volition, leaving her pussy to gape loose-lipped under the golden red patch of fur that covered it. Saliva filled Sarah's mouth as she thought of Grant's huge, black cock. She wanted to feel it with her lips and her tongue. She wanted to make it love slick so it would slide into her pink tunnel.
Closing her eyes, she saw Grant's cock as she imagined it, horribly, huge, brutally thick, gleaming with moisture, seeping a thick, white cream.
"Aaaarrrggghhh," she moaned with desire. The fingers of her hands glided down her firm, flat belly and stirred the red mat of fur at her crotch, one long, pink-tipped finger dawdled in the squishy trough of her sex, sliding her swollen labia aside as it stroked into her crease. She trembled. Erotic pangs of feeling radiated from her crotch. Her finger was poised on the edge of her hole. She didn't want to do it. She knew it was horrible and obscene - not just because she was masturbating, but because she was thinking of Grant with his huge, dark prick squeezing its way into her tight hole.
That was evil, she knew, and then she forgot as she plunged her finger deep into her eager slot. Sarah didn't have to imagine any more. It felt as if Grant's prick was stuck inside her. The feel of a prick inside her cunt was magnified like she had stuck it in a glass of water and it was twice or three times as big as it looked normally. Her tissues collapsed around it, holding tightly, sucking at it. She jiggled her finger frantically up and down inside herself. Her thumb brushed lightly over her erect clitoris, stroking it until it throbbed with urgent desire.
"Aaaauuuuhhh, uh, uh, uh," Sarah moaned. She heaved her hips, driving them against her probing finger, shoved all the way in to her knuckle. Her palm cupped her crotch, starting a burning sensation throughout her loins. She heaved and twisted, loving the feel of her cunt stretching around her probing finger, but missing something. Missing the feel of Grant's heavy, muscular body pressing against hers, his soft lips caressing hers. Sarah cried out wildly. Her insides seemed to collapse like a wet paper bag as her body went rigid with the force of her orgasm.
"Aaaaarrrrggghhh," she moaned loudly as the force of her climax drove the breath out of her lungs, leaving her spent, breathless, gasping for air.
She sprawled loose-limbed on the bed, her joints too weak to move. It was dirty, ugly, evil, Sarah knew. But for the moment, she didn't care. Her body was satiated. Her lust was momentarily quenched and an unfamiliar lassitude gripped her and she fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about an enormous black penis and a car tumbling in flames over a mountain cliff.
The sound of a scuffle in the hall shook Sarah awake. For a moment she didn't remember where she was or why, but then the unfamiliar odors of the musty little room with its dingy furniture reminded her. She sat up in the bed, acutely conscious of her nakedness, the fact that she had lain there all day without any clothes on. A blush spread over her face as she recalled what she had done to herself. Guiltily she glanced down at the red patch of hair over her vagina as if expecting to see some terrible evidence of her sinful sex.
The noise in the hall was louder. She crept to the door soundlessly on her bare feet. She recognized Grant's voice.
"Lay off!" the Negro was saying. "I don't have anything you guys want."
"I don't know about that, nigger." The voice was nasal, nasty. It struck a responsive chord in Sarah's memory. She wasn't sure, but it could have been the man who tried to rape her at her house, Cliff, if that was his name. She leaned against the door, feeling the cracks of the peeling paint pressing into her flesh.
"What is it you guys want?" Grant's voice was high pitched, containing a ring of fright in it.
"The girl," Cliff snarled.
"What girl?"
There was a meaty thud and a groan. Sarah turned and slid to her knees, peeping through the old-fashioned keyhole. Grant was half doubled over. Behind him was a big, stocky white man, holding his arms. Facing the Negro was the man that Sarah had recognized as Cliff, rubbing his fists.
"Koken's secretary," Cliff hissed, then he drove his fist into Grant's stomach again.
The Negro gasped with pain. "I don't know what you're talking about." His mouth was twisted back and his eyes slitted from the effort, holding the pain in.
Sarah closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. It was her fault. She knew if she hadn't done that shameful sex thing with Grant, this wouldn't be happening to him.
"Okay, smart nigger," Sarah heard Cliff say. "I got your license number when you left the house and I owe you a little something anyway."
There was another thud and a gasp of pain. Sarah closed her eyes and flinched. She knew Grant was getting beat up because of her. It was all her fault. She wanted him to tell them and get it over with. She couldn't understand why he didn't. The noise and the gasping and the whimpers of pain seemed to go on forever, at least until Sarah couldn't stand it any longer. She drew the bolt back on the door resolutely and pulled it open.
"Did you want to see me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice firm.
The two thugs turned to look at her and their mouths fell open in astonishment. Their expression reminded Sarah she was naked, that all she had covering her cunt was her hair. Her red-tipped breasts seemed to rise under their scrutiny.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah said, "Leave him alone."
"Sure," Cliff grinned lewdly. "We'll do that all right." He motioned to the other man as he shoved the door open, putting one big knuckled hand on Sarah's breast to push her back away from the doorway. His grin spread.
"Say, that's all right," he said as his fingers slid over the creamy cones of her tits.
Sarah felt her heart pounding frantically at the touch of the man's fingers on her bare skin. She was conscious of an itch at her crotch, probably the result of her love juice drying on her legs. She stepped back away from Cliff and the other man dragged Grant through the door. Sitting on the floor, holding his hands to his stomach, Grant looked up at her through pained eyes.
"What did you do that for?" Grant gasped. "You didn't have to do that. Now it's all wasted."
"Shut up." The man who had dragged Grant into the room scowled and cuffed him on the side of the head. "Keep your mouth shut, nigger, if you know what's good for you."
"Where is it, baby?" Cliff asked.
"What- what do you mean?" Sarah stammered.
"The tape recording." Cliff grinned, showing a mouthful of broken and missing teeth. "You got it and we want it."
"I -1 don't," Sarah lied. "I threw it away."
"Where?"
"In Mandeley Bay," she whimpered.
"Why there?" Cliff demanded.
"It - it was closer," Sarah said, "and I wanted to get even with Arnie, and I knew that throwing the tape away would do it."
"Gee," Cliff said, "ain't that too bad. All this work and effort to find the tape wasted." His voice held a note of disbelief. "Hey, Jim," he said, "what'd the boss tell us about this job?"
Smirking, the other strong arm man said, "Arnie told us to take all day if we wanted, all week even. But he said, 'Don't come back without the tape."
"Yeah. That's right." Cliff smiled evilly. "Either we get the tape or we don't come back. That's the way it is, girlie. That's it all right." His eyes reamed over her lush, soft body. "We've got all day or even all week." Putting his hand on her tit, he slowly squeezed until Sarah was gasping for breath, torn by the exciting feel of his work-hardened fingers and her own fear.
"I think," Jim said, "we'd better call the boss."
Cliff's face twisted with the inner battle that reflected his desire to be left alone with Sarah and his fear of what Koken would say if he didn't report. -Okay," he said, "but tie that nigger up first."
Jim nodded and pulled the belt out of Grant's pants. Roughly he jerked the black man's arms behind his back and tied them there with the belt, making a big, sloppy knot in the leather. For a long moment Jim stood licking his lips, staring at Sarah's naked flesh. She felt her body respond with fear to his animalistic expression and also, she realized, with lust. The throbbing that had started in her cunt seemed unendurable. She couldn't seem to control it. Her breasts were swollen and hypersensitive, sending electrical jolts through her body, even from the stray currents of air in the room.
"Why don't you go call, Cliff?" Jim asked.
"Never mind that," Cliff said harshly. "Get your ass down there and call and get back up here."
"Yeah. Sure. You can bet I'll be right back." Jim licked his lips again and went out into the hall, closing the door after himself, leaving Grant sitting helplessly on the floor. With the door closed, Cliff turned to Sarah and gently pushed her backward until she fell on the small, sagging bed.
"He'll be gone just about long enough, won't he, baby?" he said and leered.
"Please," Sarah pleaded. "Don't. Turn us loose and I'll make it worth your while."
"Maybe," Cliff said, "maybe if you're real nice to me." Slowly he pulled the zipper down on his pants, releasing the huge club of his cock. Sarah's eyes widened as she saw it emerge from his Levis. The big man was dressed like any construction bum in faded blue Levis, work shoes, and a long-sleeve work shirt, open at the collar and with the cuffs rolled up on his brawny, sun-tanned arms. He didn't bother to take any of his clothes off. He just let his cock and balls hang out through the open slit in his pants.
First it was limber, like a squishy white piece of plastic, huge and misshapen. But slowly, as he fondled it between his sun-browned fingers, the piece of white flesh swelled and hardened, getting longer and bigger. Sarah gasped. It was bigger and thicker than Grant's. It seemed to her frightened eyes to be as long and thick as her forearm. The red knob on the end glowed evilly, changing shades from moment to moment from red to purple and back again as the pulse of his blood made it quiver.
"Take it," he said. He advanced to the bed and let it spear out at Sarah's face. His laugh was nasty. "Doi what I tell you and maybe we've got a deal."
Sarah stared at that hard piece of fuck muscle. She smelled its foul musky odor. Cautiously she reached out with her small hand and stroked it, feeling a tremor starting in her fingertips and running all the way back to her heart. It felt good, it felt like something she'd always wanted to touch. She tried to restrain her eagerness, but that was impossible, and her hands stroked on that pulsating penis until it had risen to its full glory. He pressed toward her and her mouth opened uncertainly to let the massive head slip in between her tight lips.
Cliff groaned as the huge red knob disappeared into the hot, sloppy wet hollow of her mouth. Sarah's tongue played over his sensitive cockhead, her lips sucked on it, drawing back and forth, making Cliff writhe with pleasure. "That's it, baby," he groaned, "suck my greasy cock." He put his work-hardened hands on the back of her head and held her as he began to pound his prick deep into her throat. Sarah wanted to suck that beautiful prick. She wanted to. If Cliff had let her she would have told him. But he was holding her head firmly between his hands and pounding his hips back and forth, almost choking her with each lewd thrust of his massive weapon.
"You beautiful cocksucker," Cliff mumbled. "Get your hot, little mouth around my prick, baby."
Sarah didn't need the urging. Eagerly she sucked at Cliff's sex meat. She felt the skin flowing in and out in regular cadence between her lips. She could feel it getting hotter and hotter and swelling. Her mouth salifated as she waited for the jetting of hot.semen that would be her reward, that she knew would come. Suddenly Cliff stopped. He drew back and his cock popped out of her mouth with a wet, slurping sound. Roughly he grabbed her legs, pulled her around until her butt was against the edge of the bed. His hands stirred in the red, furry trough of her pussy, but he didn't have to do that to excite her. Sarah was already wet there.
Holding Sarah's ankles in his hands, Cliff pulled her feet up until they were pointed at the ceiling. Then he stood against her, her legs pressed against his chest, projecting up beyond his shoulders. With his hand he centered his hard throbbing rod at the moist slit between the girl's legs. Then, gripping her hips on each side, he lunged hard against her. Sarah whimpered. That massive priek driving into her bowels seemed to tear her open. A raging fire burned at the mouth of her pussy. Her insides cried for relief from the huge fullness that was tearing her apart.
Cliff grunted with pleasure. "God," he groaned, "you're a tight piece of ass." He drew back and lunged again, his shaft tearing into Sarah's tortured cunt.
"Aaaarrrrggghhh," she cried. "Ooooooh." Her breath was expelled in excited, little gasps by the force of his thrust. Slowly the pain changed to a hot throb and she felt that huge piece of flesh boring into her like a great worm, twisting and turning inside her cunt passage. She was so hot inside she was steaming. Unbidden, her hands rose to her breasts and began to knead them as Cliff held her hips and drove her buttocks solidly against him time and again, his prick smashing into her, driving in and out, in and out.
Sarah's pussy lips gripped it and clung to his cock, threatening to pull her insides out as he drew back and then she sighed as he plowed his long cock into her again and again. He couldn't hold off any longer. Cliff had started out super hot from her sucking his cock.
"In a moment," he promised lustily. He ground her cunt against him, using his hands to hold her hips still while he spurted great gobs of boiling goo inside her.
Sarah arched her back, driving her hips even tighter against Cliff. She was coming. He had taken her like an animal and she loved it. She screamed, her voice ringing with animal pleasure as her cunt collapsed in a waterfall of sinful pleasure.
Chapter Six
"Very pretty," Koken rumbled. He stood in the open doorway looking into the room, an ugly leer on his face. He stepped inside followed by Jim who closed the door behind them. Cliff got off the bed, untangling himself from Sarah's legs still wrapped around his waist, a sheepish look on his face.
"You got here fast, boss," he said. His voice wavered uncertainly.
Koken scowled at his henchman. "Who told you you could do that?" he growled.
"Well- well," Cliff stammered, "she wasn't being too cooperative."
"She'll be cooperative." The wrinkles in Koken's lined face seemed to pinch tighter together. He turned his hard, blue eyes on Sarah, and said, "Won't you, baby?"
"I - I threw it away," Sarah stammered. She didn't want to admit it, but she was frightened, scared of the tall, heavy-set man in khaki work clothes. His mean, little pig eyes scared her.
"You two take him into the other room for a few minutes." Koken scowled at the two musclemen, nodding at Grant. "I want to talk to Sarah alone."
The two construction bums grabbed Grant by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. As they shoved him through the door, taking him to his room, Grant's eyes met Sarah's. She didn't know what to read in them, revulsion or pity. She couldn't blame him if he had been revolted by her exhibition with Cliff. It was wanton of her, lewd, to give in that way, to enjoy being raped. Fearfully her eyes settled on Koken's great, bulky shape, towering over her.
Koken looked almost beneficient. His short-cut, brown hair, graying at the temples, gave him a fatherly appearance.
"Where is it, Sarah?" he asked softly.
"I threw it away," Sarah lied again. "I wanted to hurt you, so I threw it away." .
Koken sat on the edge of the bed, the springs squealed in protest. "When did you throw it away? Before or after you wanted the money?"
Trying to edge away from Koken, Sarah suddenly felt her soft buttocks trembling on the edge of the bed. "When I ran away from the trailer."
"You mean you threw it away in Mandeley Bay?"
"How did you know?" Sarah asked.
Koken ignored her question. "How?"
"I just threw it in," Sarah said. "I ran by and I threw it in."
Slowly Koken's big, calloused hand stroked Sarah's side. "But how did you get to the bay, Sarah?" Koken asked. "You ran along the edge of the road until somebody picked you up and gave you a ride. That's what the men said."
"I - I threw it," the girl said desperately. She tried to move away from Koken, but his hand had stopped cupping her crotch. He held her flat on the bed as his thick, sausage-like fingers plowed into her cunt. Sarah trembled. She was alive with the feeling of his fingertips stroking at her sensitized labia. His hand was hot over her sweaty pussy and her slot began to itch intolerably. She could feel the stream of Cliff's still-warm semen leaking out of her..
"You have a good throwing arm," Koken said. "It's a hundred fifty yards from the edge of the road to the bay anywhere, and even further where you were before you got a ride."
Sarah didn't say anything. She had run out oflies. Koken could try to get the information out of her, but she would never tell, and he couldn't go to the law. She shivered, knowing that the enraged man would assault her sexually. It was to be expected. She was determined to resist this time. He would get nothing out of her, neither pleasure nor his tape, and she vowed to make him pay for it.
"You'll tell me, won't you, baby?" Koken's finger hooked in Sarah's cunt and dragged her toward him. The thick fleshy digit was a hook in her body. She couldn't wiggle off it. The pressure tore at her, spreading her open, but it excited her more than it hurt. She told herself she mustn't become aroused, she must only exist, let him do what he would and then go. That was the only way to combat an animal like Arnie Koken. Suddenly his finger straightened out and lanced into her quivery cunt.
"Uuuuuuuu," Sarah said. Her legs spasmed and she jerked her knees up, spreading her cunt wide to his attacking finger. Koken worked it around in her tight passage while Sarah squirmed and moaned, feeling his fingers stretching her open. Abruptly he stood up, stripping his shirt off and dropping his pants, then he kicked his shoes off on the floor. Koken's body looked funny to Sarah for a moment, his white skin and paunchy belly like wrinkled white paper, and then the deep red "V" of his tan where his shirt front opened and the way his arms tanned all the way to his biceps like he was wearing long, brown gloves.
Koken's cock dangled like a thick snake from his groin, laying on the bulge of his heavy balls. He stared at her and slowly it began to stiffen and climb, leveling out until it was pointed straight at her, and then slowly rising until it was stiff and erect. Sarah noted with salacious thrills between her thighs that it was thick, perhaps not as long as Cliff's, but heavier, meatier. Still wearing his socks, Koken crawled on the bed between her legs, pinning her down with his hands. Slowly he lowered his bulk until his prick was rubbing against her moistened slot.
"Ooooooh," she moaned. It seemed to Sarah as if she hadn't just fucked another man, her desire was so strong it burned hotly in the lips of her gaping cunt, seemingly being willed aside to let his prick nestle against her slot.
She pumped her hips and Koken's huge, white prick slid a fraction into her, disappearing into her red-haired mound. She felt the round bulk of his cock spreading her hole. She heaved her hips upward, driving herself on to it, impaling herself.
Slowly Koken ground down, pitching his prick deeper and deeper into Sarah, feeling it squeezed by her cunt, forcing it through the narrow folds of her tunnel, stretching her open. When he was all the way in, Koken smiled, then ground his pelvis hard against hers, scratching her with the hairy bush of his pubic hair.
"You'll tell me what I want to know, won't you, baby?" he rasped into her ear. His hands cupped her jutting breasts, squeezing harshly, compressing the soft, pliant flesh of her tits until she wanted to cry. His cock worked around inside her, banging blindly against the walls of her vagina. He heaved his hips up, leaving a terrible emptiness in Sarah that he filled immediately by plunging down at full speed. Sarah moaned. Drawing her legs up and wrapping them around Koken's pounding hips, her heels clenched against the crack of his ass, urging his fuck spear to ram harder into her eager snatch.
Her legs slipped Koken's sweaty body. She raised them again and again, pulling him into her. His cock slid in and out of her cunt so roughly it felt like sandpaper, each motion of his body, of his boring prick, was magnified a thousand times until he pumped into her hard, and she clenched him tightly to her.
Sarah sighed, "Aaaaauuuugggghhh." She wanted to hold him against her, keep his big, fat prick bobbing around inside her cunt, making her feel good. But Koken pushed himself free, spreading her legs with his hands.
"Roll over," he commanded. Sarah stared up at him with blank eyes. "Roll over," Koken demanded again harshly. He grabbed her hips with his hands and forcefully rolled her on to her belly.
His weight enveloped Sarah's body again. She felt him lying on her, his breast pressing against her backbone, his hands delving around her body to cup her breasts and cruelly squeeze and knead them. His hairy loins rubbed harshly against the tender, white mounds of her buttocks.
"Tell me," Koken demanded. "Tell me now."
"Leave me alone!" Sarah buried her face in the pillow. "Why don't you believe me?" What Koken was doing to her was evil, she knew that. She didn't want him to and yet - yet her body was betraying her. The minute he had started raping her, she had no choice but to go along, to return his fiercesome attack in kind. She felt strange, afraid, with him on her back where she couldn't see him, couldn't guess what he was doing while his hands on her breasts kept her ardor burning.
His knees had spread Sarah's apart and her cunt felt terribly open and exposed. Koken's big cock jabbed at her. She felt his thick cock pushing against the spongy, squishy lips of her cunt and she realized almost with joy that he was going to screw her from behind. Only he pulled back at the last minute and his prick rode easily up over her perineum and into the long, vertical slit of her ass.
Slowly, like a blind dog, the snoot of Koken's cock sniffed its way up that tender-sweet crevice to nestle against the puckered, dark opening of her asshole. "Oh no," Sarah moaned. "Please don't. Please! Please!"
"Sure, baby. Why not?" Koken ignored her pleas. He was raging hot, his cock had drilled down sharply and heavily, spreading the tight lips of her rectum.
Sarah felt it go in like a huge bullet, spreading her apart like a shit in reverse. She didn't think she could stand it. She was being forced open so wide, it hurt and burned all at the same time.
"Don't! Don't do that!" she gasped. "I've never had it that way. You're too big."
Koken chuckled evilly. He pounded his hips downward, forcing his big cock deep into her asshole. She could almost see that huge, thick piece of white meat spreading her ass cheeks wide apart, pulling her asshole open to get in.
"God, it's tight," Koken groaned, his voice seemed pleasured by the thought.
Sarah whimpered and twitched her ass, and Koken almost hollered with pleasure.
"That's the way, baby," he said. "That's the way." All thought of the tape recording was gone from his mind as Koken drilled his huge cock in and out of hex asshole. His hands gripped her tits tighter while his fingers played with her nipples, rolling them until they were long and hard and dug like matchheads into the bedcover.
The burning still filled Sarah's bowels, but something else did too: the feeling of pleasure. She heaved her hips backward against him and felt the satisfying slap of his pelvis hitting against her butt cheeks. His cock seared against her ass lips as they slid up and down his throbbing shaft. Sarah grunted as she wiggled. She clenched down with her abdominal muscles as if she were trying to take a shit and it intensified the pleasure. Water seemed to be streaming out of her hairy slit and running down the insides of her legs as Koken plowed into her bowels, into the center of her being.
One of his hands slid down her sleek belly and dug at the slippery crack of her cunt. The result was electrifying. Her cunt lips seemed twice as big as normal and Koken's fingers seemed to be slipping into another woman's hole, it was so distant and yet intense. The two sensations worked together, the finger sliding rapidly in and out and stroking her erect and eager clitoris, his cock stretching her asshole fantastically to accommodate it.
"Umph, umph, umph," she gasped as if she were shitting a big turd, only it was going the wrong way. It was drilling up into her and the more she squeezed and gasped against it, the higher it seemed to crawl into her bowels, into her chocolate hole.
"I'm coming," Sarah moaned. "I'm commmmmming." She felt her insides squeezed down tight, her rectum grasping Koken's cock for all it was worth. It must have been all the trigger he needed because in an instant her ass was aflow with burning liquid that gorged her, and then his cunt-wet hand was dragging up her belly toward her breast, while he pumped the last few wretched heaves of his hot sticky male sperm into her.
Sarah felt his cock shriveling, growing smaller and falling out of her arduously used hole. Softly she began to cry to herself.
"Knock that off," Koken snarled. He slapped her round, white ass with his hand leaving a red imprint on the milky-white cheek. "Come on," he growled. "Tell me where it is."
"I threw it away," Sarah said resolutely.
"You're telling a lie," Kokengritted. He moved off her and sat on the bed. Sarah shook her head trying to retreat from him, but he grabbed her hair and twined his fingers in the golden-red strands. "Bad little girls who lie," he whispered, "should have their mouths washed out."
He pulled her head toward his soiled crotch. Sarah resisted, trying to keep away as he dragged her toward his cock, still splashed with brown stains from her dirty asshole and smeared with the almost clear-white fluid of his passion.
"No," Sarah moaned. Her lips formed a round "O" as she tried to back away and Koken forced her head down until she was sucking the end of his throbbing prick. Although it had shriveled some, it began stretching the minute her soft lips milked it.
"Get it clean," Koken snarled. He held her mouth to it. "Or else."
Gingerly Sarah lapped at his hot flesh, lifting the streamers of his come off, trying to avoid the brown stains.
"Not that way," Koken growled. He forced her head down until her mouth engulfed the whole cock. She could taste the acridness of her own asshole as he forced her to suck and lick his relaxing prick and then his large, hairy balls until they were spotlessly clean.
At first, it was distasteful to Sarah. But then the taste and feel of his dirty prick excited her. The thought that she was tasting her own asshole and cunt at the same time, because he had had it in both places, started her cunt spasming. The heavy, musky odor of her vagina clung to him. Idly he worked his hands across her body, dipping his fingers in her pee hole as she lapped his cock clean.
"Tell me, baby," Koken promised, "and I'll let you go."
Sarah didn't believe Arnie Koken would ever let her go, whatever she did. She tried to close her mind to him, to shut him out while she rode the crest of her exotic fantasy. Sarah's eyes were closed, her nostrils distended as she drank in the odor of his body mingled with her own sexual perfume. She didn't mind. It was almost a pleasure. It wasn't her fault, he was making her do it. It was his fault and she knew that something bad would happen to him for treating her this way.
Chapter Seven
Koken stepped over to the door and didn't seem to notice he was stark naked when he threw it open. "Hey, you guys," he yelled. "Get over here." The door to Grant's room opened and the two thugs stepped back across the hall, urging the brawny Negro along between them. They propped Grant against the wall where he leaned back, staring at the three men with hate-filled eyes, but not saying anything.
Sarah felt the horrible vileness of her actions reach into the depths of her soul. Grant was probably disgusted with her, she thought. He probably hated her for the way she had acted and encouraged those men. She wanted to cry and the tears barely wetted the edges of her eyelids.
"Jimmy," Koken said, "you've been left out, ain't you?"
The gaped-tooth construction bum nodded his shaggy head, eagerly smiling in a subservient leer.
"I think you're going to get your chance," Koken said. "Take off your clothes." Jimmy hesitated and stared at his boss, but when he saw that Koken was serious, he quickly began to strip, throwing his clothes in an untidy heap on the floor.
"You ever been had by two men?" Koken asked Sarah conversationally, as if he were asking her if she ate bread. Stunned by the question, Sarah could only roll her head from side to side, staring at him wide-eyed. "Well, that's good," he said, "because we've got a brand new experience for you."
The girl felt her cunt seem to contract. She wondered how Koken planned to do it. Perversely she felt a thrill of anticipation energizing in her body. She watched Jimmy disrobe with wide eyes and suddenly the extent of her perversity dawned on her. The true vileness was her own insatiable desire for sexual perversion. She had to admit to herself that what Koken proposed thrilled her rather than terrified her. If he knew .. . Sarah let the thought hang because she had the horrible fear that he might read her mind.
She couldn't completely suppress her thoughts, though, and the corners of her lips turned up in an enigmatic smile. Jimmy advanced toward the bed. He was so nervous his cock stood up stiff and hard like a white bone that jerked and throbbed to the combination of his heartbeat and his movements. Sarah stared at it through half-lidded eyes. She drank in the sight of his naked crotch and hanging balls, realizing that she enjoyed it, that she loved the lasciviousness of seeing a man's sex being exposed for her inspection.
"You too, Cliff," Koken demanded. Cliff's face lit up with eagerness, and it took him only a moment to shed his clothes and advance to the bed. His huge, misshapen cock was also half hard. He eagerly stared at Sarah, his eyes roaming over her lush naked curves and white, creamy skin.
"How are we going to do this, boss?" he asked. "Shit," Koken said. "I don't care as long as you both get it in her."
Cliff shrugged. "Okay, Jimmy, you get on the bottom. We'll make a sandwich."
"Why me?" Jimmy complained, realizing that the man on the bottom would be practically immobile.
"Because," Cliff said, trying to make his voice crack with authority. The other thug was about to complain when Koken said, "Shut up, both of you. Just roll her on her side, one of you in front and one in back. That should do it."
Sarah's flesh quivered when Cliff slid onto the bed with her and rolled her to her side, his hard hand grasping her hip and indenting her soft flesh. Jimmy crawled up behind her, his hot breath blowing on the riape of her neck, his cock huge and hard, nestled between the cheeks of her buttocks. Sarah's whole body was titillated by the wild surge of her blood through her loins, her thighs tingled with suppressed anticipation.
She had to close her eyes to regain her perspective. It seemed hard to believe but she was faint from the anticipation of indulging in this forbidden sex act. Cliff nestled against her, his harsh breath garlicy on her face. She felt his massive penis poking between her thighs, mashing the soft flesh of her cunt and spreading her pussy open.
He gripped her buttocks with his hands, squeezing cruelly and pulling them openas he dragged Sarah's body against his and forced her inexorably down on his cock. Sarah clenched her teeth to keep herself from sighing with relief as that huge meat slid into her. She didn't want them to know she was enjoying it, but she literally loved every vile inch of prick that slipped into her crack. When his cock had rammed all the way into her so that his balls were slapping against her flesh, Sarah moaned a steady ululating cry of "Ooooooh."
Perhaps Koken misinterpreted it as pain. "Get going, Jimmy," he commanded. "Sock it to the bitch. Rip her open." Sarah clenched her teeth. That's what she wanted- Jimmy to rip her open with his can opener prick, to make her feel him.
The thug behind her scrambled eagerly to obey. Cliff still pulled her alabaster ass cheeks wide apart and Jimmy had no trouble fitting his cock against that small, red-scared opening. His arms encircled Sarah, his hands cupping her breasts and taking a full, solid hold of those soft projecting knobs. He wiggled his hips and slowly drove his cock deep into her bowels. Sarah threw her left leg over Cliff's buttocks.
She was so full it seemed she had to spread her thighs to make room in her body for the two foreign pieces of flesh digging into her. Her nerves were oh fire. Just the breathing of the two men seemed to make her climax again and again and again. Her holes convulsed madly as her muscles ran out of control in wild spasms. Awkwardly the two men lurched and prodded against her, rolling one way then another as they were caught off balance.
Gradually they attained a rhythm and both of them slapped their joy sticks into her with brutal force in unison while their hands held her down to accept the cruel pounding. But to Sarah, it wasn't cruel. The wild friction of Cliff's cock sliding in and out of her slickly lubricated cunt and exciting the thin walls to enormous sensitivity enthralled her. The sensation was so overpowering she couldn't catch her breath. At the same time, she felt each wild stab of Jim's prick sliding in and out of her tighter, rougher asshole.
It ripped and tore at the sides of her walls and at times it seemed the two cocks came together, driving into the center of her being. She was stretched so beautifully, so fully, that she couldn't think except in terms of cock and cunt, in terms of being full of his hot, throbbing man meat.
As they rammed in and out of her, Koken fingered his own prick. He stood up and his cockhead was getting rosy from the congestion of his blood. He walked around the bed, entangled his fingers in Sarah's long, red hair. She was so euphoric from the pounding of those two pricks into her holes that she didn't even mind when he lifted her face and turned it toward his cock.
"Suck it!" he said. Obediently she opened her mouth, her eyes almost closed, and began to suck and caress that hot knob with her lips and tongue. Koken moaned as he drove it into the hot, open cavity of her mouth, feeling the soothing touch of her saliva on his sensitive prick head. She lashed his prick with her tongue and in a moment it seemed that he was ejaculating gallons of creamy white fluid into her suctioning mouth.
"Ugh, ugh," Sarah slurped loudly as she drank Koken's semen down and her lips slipped clumsily around his thrusting prick. At the same time her hips pounded in wild movement back and forth, driving first Jim's massive cock into her asshole and then Cliff's into her cunt as she bounced her body back and forth from one to the other, taking complete control of the rhythm.
The two men were no longer ravaging her, she was ravaging them. They could only clench tightly to her as she fucked them to orgasm, and they unloaded their hot sticky come into her simultaneously, flooding her insides with the hot, soothing lotion of their manhood.
"Aaaaauuuuggghhh," Sarah moaned as her own orgasm lifted her weightlessly into a cloudy heaven. Her body felt light as a feather and the two men pressing against her were only warm, friendly feelings. Koken's cock had slipped out of her mouth as it shriveled, and she licked her lips, catching the last spots of his stringy semen. She would have clutched the other two men to her, but she was too tired, and she could only lay back and let them slip their pricks out of her.
Koken looked at her, lying there. "Shit," he said. "I think she liked it, the rotten little bitch." An evil expression crossed Koken's face. "Why the hell are you two bastards laying in bed?" he said. "Get up and earn your pay."
Confusion crossed Cliff's and Jim's faces as their slow moving minds caught the change in the drift of commands. They obviously would have liked to have continued their fond embrace of Sarah's nubile body. Hazily they got to their feet.
"You know what I think?" Koken said slowly.
"You're going to have to beat her up a little"
Cliff looked reluctant. "I don't know, Amie. I never did like to hit women."
"Crap, it's easy," Koken said. "AH you do is this." He reached down and grabbed Sarah's hair and pulled her up, his arm flashed up and smashed hard against her face, the sound echoing and reechoing in the small room. He let go and she slumped back, feeling the dull ache of his fingers slowly seeping into her passion-dulled mind.
Gingerly Cliff stepped up to the bed. He put his hands on Sarah's head, his fingers grabbing her hair. He pulled her up and she felt the pressure on the roots of her hair, coercing her erect. His hand went up and came down. Instead of a stinging slap, it was more a hard caress, and she kissed his fingers as they slipped across her mouth.
Cliff looked at his hand. "Christ, boss," he said. "I can't do that. You don't want me to bang up something that good looking." He seemed embarrassed by his admission of weakness.
"Let me." Eagerly Jimmy looked at Koken. obviously seeing his opportunity to supplant Cliff as the leader of their duet. Koken nodded. Jimmy hurried forward. With little precision but lots of force, he began lashing wildly at Sarah's face, and when she lurched back out of reach he rolled her over and, holding his left hand in the small of her back, he began to pound wildly on her soft, round buttocks.
"Uuuggg, uuuuu," Sarah moaned as his hands swung down for a vicious swipe. His fingers connected with her ass cheeks with the sound of a pistol shot, and she felt each separate finger leaving its imprint on her flesh. His hand pounded back and forth across her butt cheeks, turning them a blushing red. Occasionally Jim's fingers slipped between her cheeks and touched her strained asshole. The pain receded and what had taken its place was a strange kind of pleasure and enjoyment.
Sarah knew she deserved to be punished and the punishment that was being meted out to her suited her guilt. The erotic titillation of Jim's fingers dragging across her asshole reminded her of the wild thrill she'd gotten from first Koken fucking her there and then the other man. The hand moved lower, slapping with sharp erratic bursts of speed, and the fingertips began to splat against the puffy lips of her cunt. The feeling only served to excite Sarah even further.
Sarah's cunt swelled and bulged and she felt her pussy drooling wildly, the liquid dripping out of her slot and wetting the bed. "Uuuuggg," she cried. She almost lifted her butt up off the bed so that Jimmy could have a better swing at those round, billowing ass cheeks. Thrashing and turning, Sarah was able to glance around the room in her excitement. Grant was standing in strange silence against the wall, but his arms were moving back and forth. She wasn't sure but it appeared to her as if he was working the big clumsy knot out of the belt that bound his arms behind his back.
"Shit," Koken growled, "this isn't going to get us anywhere." He looked at the girl and his cock stood up stiff and hard. Sarah realized the other two men also were in a state of erection.
"Maybe if we screwed her again," Cliff said hopefully.
"Shut up, imbecile," Koken growled. "She probably wants us to fuck her. Goddamned whore."
Jim's face broke into a gaped-tooth smile. "You know what, Mr. Koken?" he said. "When we was beating up this nigger over here, she came right out and told us where she was." He smiled as if he had just won the national lottery.
Koken's face lighted up. "You don't say," he said softly. "That's very interesting." Koken moved toward Grant and the other two men followed him. "You think you can beat a black nigger up, Cliff?" Koken asked in a growl.
"Sure, boss," Cliff said eagerly, wanting to get back in Koken's good graces.
Koken looked at Jim. "On second thought, Jimmy, I think maybe you'd better do the job. Maybe you're the only one who's man enough to."
"Sure, boss," Jimmy said happily. He tipped a superior leer in Cliff's direction and moved up to hit the muscular Negro. Grant braced himself against the wall, his eyes stoically blank.
"Wait," Sarah said. She sat up in the bed and almost fell over. She was dizzy from the battering she had taken for the past few minutes although she hadn't been really hurt by it. "It's in Grant's room. I hid it there when he was gone. It - it's behind the dresser."
Koken gave Grant a contemptuous shove out of the way. "Let's go," he said. He started out the door with Cliff following him, and Jim right behind. "You stay there, watch those two," Koken barked at his henchman. He and Cliff went across the hall into the other room while Jim shut the door and came back, seemingly disappointed that he had been left behind.
Sarah stood and held her arms out to him. She noticed the huge hard-on sticking up in front of him, his cock lancing into the air like a spear.
"Come, give that to me, baby. I really need it. Please." She saw Grant looking at her with disgust, but she couldn't help what she had to do.
The thug just stared at her, confused for a moment, and then smiled. He put his arms out and moved toward her, his huge cock lancing up between the two of them. They whirled slowly around in front of the open window until Sarah was able to trap his prick between her thighs and drive it thrillingly up her cunt.
"Oooooh," she trilled in his ear. She stood against him and they rocked back and forth, his cock dragging in and out of her; a bare inch at a time, but one that went back and forth, back and forth, at an insatiable speed. Sarah could feel her cunt practically vibrating at the wild feel of Jimmy's cock as they stood clenched together.
She felt him building up to his climax, his prick swelling, the hot come splashing out of him, deluging her insides. He let go of her and sagged, as she knew he would as the strength left his body with his come. It was the moment Sarah had anticipated, had planned for. She put both hands on Jimmy's chest and shoved with all her might. . .
Chapter Eight
Sarah stared in amazement at the open window with the dingy-yellow curtains pulled through and flapping outside in the almost airless street. It had been faster than she had imagined. Jim had teetered, clutched at her, but it was far too late, and the backs of his legs had struck the window sill and he had flopped through, rapping his head on the top edge.
He had screamed, but not loudly, and then there was a thud when he hit the pavement below. Sarah was afraid to stick her head out the window to see how badly hurt he was.
She didn't feel guilty about having pushed the construction bum. She knew she was a jinx and Jimmy got only what he deserved for having fucked her.
"Get with it," Grant growled. It was the first sound he had made in a long while. He turned and held his bound hands toward Sarah.
Frantically she scrabbled at undoing the crude knot in the slick leather belt. Sarah gasped as fear paralyzed her lungs and mind. All she could think of was the construction bum sprawled out on the sidewalk - dead, for all she knew - and what Arnie Koken would do.
She tugged on the belt again, and the knot gave. Grant sighed as he flexed his muscles. "Get dressed," he said.
Mechanically Sarah pulled on her green miniskirt and white blouse, not bothering with panties or stockings, and slid her feet into a pair of loafers. At that moment the door burst open and Arnie Koken and Cliff shoved into the room.
"Goddamn, where is that lying bitch?" Koken was howling. "We searched that room, tore it apart, and there isn't a goddamn thing there." Suddenly his mouth opened and his eyes widened. He realized that Jim wasn't in the room and only Sarah and Grant were there.
Sarah had time to notice how ludicrous Koken looked with his sagging belly and his weird suntan, now that she was dressed and he was still patting around bare-ass naked. It seemed to make a difference. And then Grant hit Koken alongside of his head with the table lamp. The ceramic base shattered and Koken grunted as he slumped to the floor. Cliff was still turning as Grant hit him rapidly two or three times in the face with his doubled fist, and the construction bum staggered backward to hit against the wall where he slid to his butt.
"Come on," Grant rumbled. He grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. They clattered down the stairs. Sarah stopped at the counter.
"My package," she said to the old man. He leered at her, his eyes feasted for a moment on her lush breasts. With a sigh that acknowledged that he was seeing the last of them, he handed Sarah the newspaper-wrapped tape.
"Come back," he said amiably. "Come back" whenever you feel like it."
Grant had Sarah's hand and was pulling her through the door.
"Thanks," Sarah said. "I will."
The man Sarah had pushed out of the window was rolling around on the sidewalk, moaning and whimpering. There were small puddles of blood around him, but at least Sarah felt relieved that he was alive. A huge crowd had gathered around Jim. Sarah was amazed by the number of people who had appeared within seconds on thenormally deserted street. She wondered fleetingly as Grant pulled her to his car whether they were there because he was naked or because he had fallen out of a window.
As she slid in the passenger side of the car, a loud yell rose back at the rooming house. Grant was gunning the engine and pulling away from the curb, but Sarah, looking back, was able to see Koken and Cliff, both naked, their pricks and balls swinging wildly, charging out into the street. A police car passed them, its red light flashing as they drove down the street, and Sarah fleetingly wondered how Koken was going to explain what had happened.
She was titillated by the thought that Arnie Koken might be mistaken for a queer and the big construction worker the victim of a homosexual party. Hysterically she began to laugh.
Grant didn't say anything for a long while. He drove grimly, keeping his eyes on the road and his mouth shut. After a while, Sarah's hysterical laughter ground down to equally hysterical sobs. The landscape changed as they drove through it from brown and gray coastal brush to great, green patches of irrigated farm land. The road, although a wide two lanes and well cared for macadam, was almost deserted.
"Where are we going?" she asked timidly. "Thousand Oaks," Grant grunted. "A friend of mine has a house there. We can stay with her for a while."
"Grant," Sarah said. "Peter, I didn't mean to get you into all this."
The brawny Negro didn't say anything. Sarah put her hand on his bare bicep, thrilling to the warm feel of his flesh.
"Really, I hope you understand." "I don't understand anything," Grant said. "But maybe you'll tell me now." He turned the car onto a road that led into the several hundred tree-studded acres that made up the upper middle class community of Thousand Oaks. As towns go in southern California, Thousand Oaks wasn't very big. For a change from the average southern California town, it was dotted with homes that weren't too close together, shaded with trees, and had its own small community newspaper to give it identity.
Sarah didn't know it, but Grant felt conspicuous driving down the tree-shaded main street of the ninety-nine per cent white community. Sarah felt a certain amount of contentment to let Grant take over in his confident, self-assured way. She wasn't cut out to play dangerous, scary games with people like Arnie Koken. Grant pulled into a leaf-cluttered driveway alongside one of the older wooden-framed, shake and shingle houses. He drove down a long driveway towards the garage and then pulled on to the grass behind the house.
"I think they found us by recognizing my car," he said. "Just in case they come this way, they won't see it back here."
Sarah got out of the car and almost fell. She was trembling all over and her knees had lost all their strength. She tottered uncertainly before Grant caught her, his arm going around her body, his hand snuggled warmly against her waist, his fingers just barely touching the soft underside of her breast.
Grant fumbled over the doorsill for a moment, finding the key and then unlocking the back foor. He guided Sarah into the front room and Sarah gasped when her eyes became accustomed to the dimness and she could see what was in it.
The furniture was low sofas and fat, over-stuffed chairs covered with animal hides, some that looked like antelope and zebra and giraffe, and others that gave her no clue as to their origin. Staring down at her from the walls were grotesque, black masks carved in wood, many were broad, primitive workmanship and others finely wrought. The knick-knack shelves were littered with carved figures in wood and ivory. The room was filled with the pagan odor of darkest Africa.
Grant grinned, his white teeth flashing in his dark face. "My friend wants to regain her racial roots," he said. "It's foolish," he shrugged, "but everybody's got to do his own thing, and this is hers. Why don't you lay down for a while?" Grant asked. "We'll talk later."
Sarah nodded, thankful for the suggestion. The excitement of the past few days was catching up with her, the running- and fucking- and she felt exhausted. Grant took her hand, the contrast sharp between his brown skin and her creamy-white complexion, and led her into the bedroom. The bed was done in black sheets and black coverlets and sat on the center of a huge, white shag rug. It was as if it had a spotlight on it. Grant laid Sarah on the bed and tenderly his hands glided over her hips toward her soft, jutting breasts. Sarah tingled as she felt the palms of his hands touching her nipples.
"Please. Please don't," she murmured. She pushed his hands away before the awakening desire could get any stronger.
"All right," Grant said hungrily. He looked at her, his eyes revealing nothing of his true feelings except the lust for her body which he couldn't conceal. "All right, if that's the way you want it." He took his hands away and then walked into the other room.
It seemed to Sarah as if it was hours that she followed his retreating form with her eyes and thought she had done something wrong again. Not wrong really. For Grant's sake she knew she had to keep him away from her, and she was ashamed that the strength of her desires should outweigh her better judgment. She was a jinx. She went to sleep knowing she was a jinx.
Sarah awoke to the sound of voices drifting into the bedroom from the front room. The house was dark. Apparently the sun had gone down and the light that drew her out of the bedroom was from a lamp in the living room. Peter Grant was sprawled out on the couch and leaning against him was the most beautiful black girl Sarah had ever seen.
Perhaps only five-foot-one and a hundred pounds, the girl's features were sharp and clean cut, and not particularly Negroid. Her skin was black and her eyes dark, dark-brown, set in globes of unblemished white. Her hair was neatly clipped, Afro-American natural, and large, ornate earrings hung from her pierced ears. The girl's perfection didn't stop with her face. Her breasts were full and she was wearing a see-through blouse that made it obvious that she didn't need any support for her black-nippled cones.
Her hand was on Grant's thigh, only inches away from the sensual bulge that Sarah knew must be the black man's prick. Sarah was surprised that her first emotion was an irrational pang of jealousy.
"There you are," Grant said. "We didn't want to wake you up. We figured you'd be too tired."
The black girl looked at Sarah and Sarah instantly recognized the distaste and resentment in her eyes.
"I'm sorry I slept so much," Sarah said. "I didn't mean to ..."
"It's all right," Grant dismissed her excuse with a wave. "Come over and sit down with us."
Sarah crossed the room, feeling the stimulation of the zebra rug on her bare feet before sitting in a chair next to the couch. It was covered with an antelope-like skin, and the bristly hair tickled the backs of Sarah's thighs.
"Julie's a TV actress," Grant said, obviously referring to the skins as he caressed the black girl. "She can afford to do her thing."
Julie pressed against Grant possessively. "Just a bit actress," she said in a husky, sexy voice. "It's all them white folk in Hollywood will let a black girl do, but it's better than some, I guess." The girl's tone and manner implied that she was far from achieving her aspirations and Sarah could feel the direct hostility.
"Cut that out, Julie," Grant growled. "Sarah isn't keeping you from becoming a black Gina Lolabrigida."
"Maybe she is and maybe she isn't, baby," Julie said in a sickly sweet tone. "I do know I won't be a successful, black Julie Harris if all them white directors and producers didn't have a craving for my black ass."
"Knock it off," Grant rumbled again. "You're not soliciting money for a black-civil rights demonstration with us."
"Oh crap. All right," Julie said, her accent and mannerisms changing. She flounced up on the couch. "Have it your way, you black bastard, bringing your white whore here."
A stab of emotion raced through Sarah's body. It was ridiculous but the implication that she was Grant's white whore excited her. It was as if an open invitation had been made for him to fuck her right then on the zebra-skinned rug.
"Cool it," Grant rumbled again. "I told you we're both in trouble, her more than me, and if you don't like us here, we'll go someplace else."
"No you don't, baby." Julie clutched Grant's arm. "I've still got the hots for you. You're not going nowhere. Besides, I don't understand why you're in all this trouble with your boss."
"Well," Grant said slowly, his eyes boring into Sarah's, "I don't understand either."
Sarah flushed. It was as if an explanation was due and she didn't know where to start. She looked uncertainly at Julie.
Grant hugged the black girl possessively. "She's family," he said, "so she can hear what you've got to say."
"Well," Sarah stuttered, "when I was Koken's secretary, he was always after me to - to fuck me. I thought it was a joke until the other day, and then he almost raped me, pushed me down on the couch and he put his tongue between my legs and licked my vagina." The red-headed girl blushed all over, feeling her cunt grow warm at the recollection. "I was scared and - and mad, and when I got away from him I grabbed a tape recording that I knew would get him in trouble and took it with me."
"What kind of tape recording?" the black girl's eyebrows tilted up as her interest was piqued by Sarah's story.
"It was - it was a tape recording of how Koken was bribing a city official for inside information about construction bids," Sarah said. "It could wipe him out."
"I see." Julie nodded her head then looked quizzically at Sarah. "What I don't understand is why you just didn't go ahead and fuck this white bastard, and then you wouldn't have had any trouble at all. Hell," the black girl pouted, "I fuck all my employers."
Sarah blushed and looked at Grant for aid.
"Well, Julie," Grant said, "she was a virgin."
Julie's eyes widened. "Was a virgin?" she asked.
Grant nodded and it didn't take an expert in psychology to tell from his facial expression that he was the man to have changed Sarah's state of chastity to one of womanhood.
"Well, how about that?" Julie muttered. "You done cracked a white virgin pussy." The black girl laughed uproariously.
"What's so funny?" Sarah asked.
"Shit," Julie gasped, "I didn't think a black boy could ever get any kind of cherry. I figured all the white boys got all the white ones and black ones both. Like mine. But that Grant- he sure is something different." Julie gazed fondly at Grant and wiggled closer against him. It was as if the talk of deflowering Sarah had heated her up sexually.
Grant pushed the black girl away. "Why don't you get us something to eat, Julie," he muttered, "and stop thinking of sex all the time."
"Not all the time," Julie corrected, getting up and swishing her hips as she went into the kitchen, "just when I'm around you."
Dinner was an agonizing experience for Sarah. The black girl showed her antagonism by continually making digs at Sarah's experience. Sarah felt defenseless and outnumbered, realizing that Grant had to share many of the same prejudices with Julie. After dinner, Julie was even more overt, trying to pull Grant into the bedroom with her.
"Come on, stud," she said. "Let's do it. Whitey here won't mind."
Grant looked uncomfortable but he had a hard time taking his eyes off the jiggling beauty of Julie's breasts, obvious through the semi-transparent blouse she wore.
"Go ahead," Sarah said airily, trying to appear sophisticated. "Just pretend I'm not here." It didn't come off though. She was there and she was concerned and there was nothing she could do about it. She didn't understand herself why she was so bitchy about Grant's relationship with the black girl, but she knew she was.
"You heard her, baby." Julie tugged at Grant's arm, trying to drag him along. "It's all right with her, it ought to be all right with you." Julie smiled wickedly at Sarah. "You can even watch if you want to, honey," she rasped.
Grant obviously couldn't hold out against the girl's urgency. His prick was a swollen rod in his pants leg and the frequent pats that Julie gave it as she pressed against him were making the situation rapidly more critical. Grant shrugged and let the black girl drag him into her bedroom. Julie made a point of leaving the door wide open.
Sarah hadn't believed the black girl would do it, leave an open invitation for her to peek that way. She was resolved not to be goaded by her, not to be led into doing anything evil.
"Oooooooh, baby," the sound drifted out of the bedroom into the front room. Sarah shivered. It was Julie's sexiest voice, heavy and thick with lust.
Sarah wondered what they were doing. Almost immediately she had a salacious image of Grant's warm, brown body rubbing against the blue-black sheen of Julie's, skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the thought.
"Aaaaaaaauuuuu!" It was Julie's voice. Obviously she was responding to something Grant had done to her. "That's the way, big boy, stick it into me. All the way into me. Deep. Deeper. Aaaaauuuu," she sighed again.
Sarah strained her ears, but all she could hear were sibilant whispers. The silence was more unbearable to the redhead than the sounds of Julie's obvious sexual enjoyment. She clenched her knees together to suppress the sharp nagging feeling that was growing between her thighs. It embarrassed her, but Sarah knew that her pussy lips were damp with her juice.
"Uuuuuuuaaaauuuu," Grant's heavy-throated voice pumped from the bedroom door as he exerted himself. It was magnetic, compelling to Sarah. She'd heard some of these, very sounds escaping the big black man when he had broken her cherry.
"Ram it into me, baby. Oh, I can feel that big, round, juicy head of yours plugging the end of my cunt. My God, it's beautiful." Julie's voice rose shrilly, louder and louder and higher and higher.
Sarah couldn't stop herself. Hesitantly she took one step after another toward the open bedroom door. She tried to hold back but it was impossible. The sound of heavy breathing filled her ears.
"Uhuhuhuhuh," the tempo of Julie's panting gasps speeded up faster and faster.
Somehow Sarah was at the doorway of the bedroom. She admonished herself not to peek, not to look. That's what Julie wants and it's sinful and wrong, she told herself. It was dirty, but she couldn't stop. She slowly sidled toward the door frame until she was looking into the bedroom. A soft, overhead light in the ceiling illuminated the black bed, standing out starkly on the white shag rug.
On the bed Julie almost merged into the black covers. It was only the sweaty sheen of her blue-black skin that highlighted her for Sarah's eyes. The girl was sprawled on her back, her arms and legs wrapped around Grant's back as he knelt between her thighs. Her lush hips undulated up and down, her butt pushing softly at Grant's brown thighs, the black bush of her pubic hair surrounding the thick, solid stem of his sex.
"Uuuuuhhhhh," she sighed each time Grant's prick lanced into her. When he was deeply embedded into her black pussy, she shoved and ground her hips against his body before falling back and dragging her pussy lips down his long, round cock.
Sarah licked her suddenly dry lips. The flashing sight of Julie's dark cunt was overpoweringly sexy. Her slit was rimmed by midnight-black skin that looked as soft and fine as jeweler's velvet. Her black-tipped breasts were swollen and sensitive, flattening and rising under the surge of Grant's heavy body pressing down. Her nipples were risen to their full extent, hard little pegs of flesh that dragged at Grant's straining body.
Julie's head was thrown back, her mouth slackly open, saliva dribbling between her lips. Her eyes were closed and her nostrils flaredwith the heat of her passion. Sarah knew. She could feel the fact that all of Julie's feelings had gathered in her sex. She was nothing more than a receptacle for that huge, brown cock of Grant's, stroking in and out of her.
Her pussy lips dragged and sucked on Grant's penis and Sarah was sure she could hear a sucking, slurping sound as Grant's ass rose away from the bed. It seemed for a moment that the light-skinned Negro was wildly pounding his cock into his own shadow. Sarah drifted into the bedroom, closer and closer to the bed, until she lost her hold on reality, on what was really happening. She could almost believe that Grant was indulging in a form of masturbation.
Sarah knelt beside the bed and Grant turned his lust-distorted face toward Sarah, wonderingly, as if to ask what she was doing. But he didn't stop, he didn't even slow down. His hips continued wildly pounding up and down, driving his prick in and out of Julie's clinging cunt. Sarah felt the wetness dribbling down her leg as she knelt.
She slowly put her hand out, touching the soft, electric flesh of Julie's breasts. Her hand tingled from the contact and Julie moaned loudly. Grant's ass was pounding faster, harder, rising higher and descending more swiftly.
"Ooooooooh," Julie mumbled in increasing cadence. Sarah could tell by the quickening tempo that the black girl was fast approaching a climax. Without thinking, she squeezed the black girl's breasts the way she would have wanted her own breasts to be squeezed if she was in that situation.
"Aaaaarrrgggghhh," Julie screamed. Her legs tightened convulsively around Grant's hips, dragging him tight against her and ramming his cock fully into her hole.
Grant grunted. The sweat stood out on his face but he couldn't follow her. He wasn't ready. He plowed into her one last time and held stiff while her body convulsed and gyrated around the artificial core of his penis that filled her center.
"Oooooh, baby, baby, baby," Julie moaned into Grant's ear. "Come with me, baby. Come with me," she begged, but it was too soon. Grant's balls nodded but his cock refused to spurt his jism into her convulsing cunt. Julie quivered against him until he sat back, taking his weight off her twitching body.
The black girl turned her head and stared at Sarah. "You did it," she snarled. "You sent me off like that. Goddamn it. What did you do that for?"
"I - I -" Sarah stammered. She didn't know why. It had been a weak moment filled with lust. She had reacted automatically, not meaning to touch the black girl at all.
"Slut! Whore!" Julie sat up suddenly and grabbed at Sarah's long red hair, tangling her fingers in the reddish-gold strands.
Sarah jerked back, frightened, and Julie fell off the bed on top of her. her black body sweatily sparkling with highlights in the hot, overhead light. The black girl tore and clawed at her, and Sarah heard her blouse rip. She could feel the air circulating across her white breasts and sharp, red nipples, and then she was concentrating on defending herself.
Julie, though smaller, was fast and lithe. Sarah rolled her head back and forth, evading the girl's claw-like slaps at her face while Julie straddled Sarah's hips with her thighs, holding the white girl down by sitting on her groin. Sarah heaved again, arching her back and throwing the naked, black girl up a bit. She brought her knee up quickly and felt her thighs smack hard and wetly against the other girl's sopping cunt.
Julie was knocked off balance and Sarah managed to roll over, pinning the black girl under her on the white shag rug. Her skirt had worked up over her hips and Sarah slowly was aware of the fact that she was bare-ass naked under it. She hadn't put any panties on when she escaped from Koken and her white ass gleamed like two spectacular frosted lightbulbs as she pinned the smaller girl to the floor.
Grant sat on the edge of the bed watching the spectacular. His cock stood up flag-pole stiff and straight from his groin, the round tip throbbing with unfulfilled anticipation. The sight of the two girls rolling around on the floor excited him fantastically. The contrast, the naked black girl almost jungle primitive in her fierceness and the smooth black sheen of her body, and the white girl half stripped of her clothing, her skin an alabaster that glowed with an inner heat and radiated sexuality, and as soft as goose-pillows, as Grant knew firsthand. As the women rolled and struggled on the floor, he was mesmerized by the red hair covering Sarah's cunt and the curly blackness of Julie's pussy flashing at him, winking at him.
"Goddamn," he said. "Enough is enough." He stood and grabbed the girls by their arms and pulled them to their feet. "Shit," he said, "stop it. I'm so fucking horny I can't stop. I'm going to fuck one of you, or both of you. I don't care - but stop it."
He pushed Sarah and Julie on the bed and lay between them, one hand cupping Sarah's exposed breast, his other creeping down to Julie's thighs, stroking silently through the black fur covering her cunt. Neither of the two women moved, they were both shivering with anticipation, hoping Grant would pick her to stick his prick into. Sarah tried to remain impassive, to force her body to reject the feel of Grant's strong fingers on her tit, rolling her nipple back and forth between them and causing it to grow long and hard. She wanted to stop him, but desire in her loins for his long, hard cock prevented her from uttering a sound.
Slowly Grant edged back down the bed, his hand leaving Sarah's breast to delve under her skirt, twisted tightly around her waist, at her red-lipped snatch. Sarah quivered at the feel of his fingertips burrowing in her tunnel. The feeling was so intense she almost came at the sight of Grant dipping his wide nose into the crack of Julie's cunt. Sarah trembled when she saw Grant stick his broad, flat tongue out and drag it up through Julie's velvet, black trough, his tongue a pink shaft of color. She imagined he was plowing her furrow and spasms seized her sopping pussy.
Julie wasn't still, either. She moaned and heaved her hips, grinding her cunt even harder against Grant's face while Sarah squeezed her thighs together, trapping Grant's hand in her crotch and forcing him to dig deeper and harder into her than he would have on his own. His tongue flicked back and forth like a whip, zipping up and down Julie's squishy wet cunt, making the black girl's ass gyrate as she worked her cunt around and around, against his sweating brown face.
Grant's lips covered the slot of her vaginal passage and his cheeks sucked in as he drew air out of her. It sent thrill after thrill lashing through Julie's lush frame.
"Ooooooooh," Julie moaned. "Oh God, oh God. Stick it in me, please."
"Grant! Do it to me!" Sarah sobbed. His fingers rolling in her gaping slit set her afire. She wanted his wet, slobbery mouth pressed over her cunt too, eating her out.
Grant seemed not to hear her as he crawled on top of Julie's sweating, black body. Eagerly the black girl guided his massive prick into her throbbing cunt as she said, "Fuck me. Stick it in me 'til it qomes out my asshole."
Sarah groaned. She was being left out. Suddenly Grant's hand urged her to move her cunt higher up on the bed. When she was high enough, he leaned over a way from Julie and planted his lips on Sarah's swollen labia that pounded with a life of its own. Sarah could have fainted at the sudden demanding warm softness. Grant's hips rose and fell. Sarah could see his long prod jamming an incredible distance up the insides of Julie's body. At the same time his tongue lashed out and filled Sarah's passage and reamed it, twisted in it and started the flow of her juices in an unending stream. She pushed her hips against his face, feeling his nose rub against her clitoris, his chin banging the sensitive perineum between her asshole and her cunt. Sarah wrapped her hands around the close-cropped, curly black hair of Grant's head and guided his sucking mouth as it lashed up and down her steaming crevice. She quivered inside as his tongue reached up and up and up into her so far she thought it was impossible. Julie was moaning and crying as she tossed and ground her hips against Grant's. The black girl's eyes were closed as they had been the first time. She whimpered with animal sounds as Grant sawed in and out of her.
Sarah shrieked. She ground his mouth against her cunt, feeling his teeth nibbling on her swollen lips. She was coming. She couldn't stop it. It was a flood starting in her breast and squeezing her whole lower body around the probing jabs of Grant's educated tongue. Julie cried out too, holding Grant's hips glued to hers by wrapping her legs around his ass and pulling as hard as she could.
Grant's buttocks clenched, his balls tightened, and then he erupted into that black cunt, making Julie quiver and moan as he filled her full of his boiling sperm. At the same time, Sarah's cunt collapsed around his probing tongue and he tasted the outpouring of her eager sex. She spread her legs even wider, making her pussy more accessible, more vulnerable to Grant's sucking mouth. It was wonderful. She was soaring. She couldn't see anything or feel anything but the rippling explosions in her body.
And yet, and yet, she thought, it wasn't complete. Her vagina still yearned hungrily to swallow his hot, limber meat, the prick that was slowly pulling out of Julie's slack cunt, streaming hot white come.
Grant stared up at Sarah, his brown eyes intensely erotic. "Now it's your turn," he said, his low voice rumbling. He crawled off Julie's supple, black body, still sprawled in reckless abandon on the bed. Obviously the Negro girl hadn't recovered from the force of her orgasm. Moving without haste, Grant started walking up Sarah's body on his hands and knees, his knees shoving her legs apart until his big, solid, brown body covered her. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. Sarah couldn't help herself. She had to respond to the fervor of his kiss, tasting the musky juice on his face from her cunt.
His hands slid between their bodies and wiggled at the tight opening of her cunt. She felt his penis head placed against her long, pink slit.
"Nooooo," she groaned. "Nooooo. You mustn't, Grant." In her mind's eye she could see his huge, long, black prick resting against the opening to her sex, ready to be driven like a black nail into her center. All the fears she had forgotten in her fatigue and excited state returned. She tried to push him away despite the quivery sensation she got in her cunt lips from the touch of his slick cockhead in her pussy. Desperately she scrambled away, he followed. She wrapped her legs around him, keeping her cunt away from his projecting prick.
"No," she moaned. "No, no, no! Don't!" Grant backed off and Sarah released her hold on him.
"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked angrily. "I just want to make sure you weren't left hanging. Shit. Julie's right about you." He slipped off the bed and stalked into the bathroom, leaving Sarah to sputter � excuses at the bobbing lightness of his retreating buttocks.
"Well, well, well, honeychile." Julie propped her head up on her hand. "Little miss whitey cunt didn't get what she wanted this time, did she?"
Sarah resented the colored girl's sneer. "What did I ever do to you?" She sobbed almost hysterically. "Why are you treating me this way?"
"If you're hot, you're hot, baby," Julie said, "and if you're not, you're not." She sneered. "Hell, us black folk knew it all along. You white folk just don't got what it takes," Julie said in her best Uncle Tom accent. "Maybe you're afraid a little of that black meat is going to rub off on your peaches and cream pussy, baby," Julie smirked. "I don't really care. Why don't you just move your ass back out on that couch and leave me and the big stud here in peace."
"I - I didn't -" Sarah stammered. The tears were welling in her eyes and she fought to keep them down. There was nothing she could say that would make things better.
Julie sprawled on the midnight bedspread, her legs open wide, and her black, slick cunt leering up at Sarah. For a long moment the redhead felt the urge to grab something, anything big, and shove it in that gaping slot until it came out the black girl's mouth, choking her words off. Just the thought of shoving something into that hole, pushing and twisting it and stretching Julie open, made Sarah start to tingle. Suddenly she realized her cunt was getting wet. The beginnings of a blush started in her body and her face and neck and arms and shoulders, and slid down the rest of her.
In confusion, upset by the unexpected turnof events, the sexual attraction of another woman, Sarah whirled and ran out of the bedroom, this time slamming the door behind her. Her mind reeled in confusion as she threw her clothes on the floor and lay down on the couch, rolling up in the large animal skins thrown over the furniture. The short, bristly hair poked and tickled her all over, scrubbing at her breasts and making her nipples stand out straight and hard at the unexpected stimulus, titillating the soft cheeks of her ass, rubbing enticingly against the front of her thighs.
She moaned. She didn't want to admit it, but she really really wanted Grant, wanted him to fuck her. She wouldn't be so afraid if the terrible memories didn't linger on so . . . Sarah's thoughts continued in that vein as she slowly crossed the line from consciousness to sleep.
It was dark and a musky animal smell filled Sarah's nostrils. It took her a long moment to wake up and remember where she was, in the home of that weird, black actress who seemed to twist everything into a racial conflict.
"Are you awake?" The voice was low, whispered. It was Grant's.
Sarah felt a sudden cheerfulness grip her heart. "Yes," she said excitedly. "Oh yesss."
"I'm sorry," Grant said hesitantly, "I just don't understand and . . . well, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be." Sarah put her hand out into the darkness and felt the warmth of Grant's bare chest. Goose bumps were rising all over her body at the perverse excitement of knowing that Grant was there, that she was touching him and yet being unable to see him. "I wanted to, Grant," she murmured softly, "but. . . you wouldn't understand. It's something else. It's not you. It's not that you're black."
"I know, baby," Grant said. "We all have hang-ups. That's one of mine. I blame all my failures on being black. I suppose white people don't even have that consolation."
"No," Sarah whispered. "We don't have that as a consolation." Her fingers traced a wavering path down the hard, clearly defined pectoral muscles of Grant's chest, gliding over his sensitive nipples, causing him to suck in his breath with a gasp.
"Do you want to tell me?" he asked in a whispered voice. "You don't have to. I mean, if you want to tell me, tell me, and if you don't want to, don't." His voice was warm with understanding and Sarah let it thaw her frozen emotions. She felt closer to Grant than she did to anybody.
Her hand reached the washboard-hard muscles of his belly and slid downward. Grant was squirming, trying not to as he sat on the edge of the couch, but the things her hand was doing to him forced him to wiggle.
"It's me," Sarah said softly, "not you." Her hand had found its target, a huge, gnarled, round knob of flesh that didn't have any color in the darkness. She could barely close her fingers around it, and lovingly she put her other hand where her first was, fondling the soft sack of his testicles. "My ... I. . . I was playing," Sarah said softly, "with my father's cock when I was a little girl, and my mommy came in. It was my fault - my terrible desire overcame me, and my dad couldn't stop me once I had started - they had a terrible fight." Sarah's hands tightened on Grant's upthrust penis. "A terrible fight, and then they drove away. Maybe to talk. I don't know, but they never came back, Grant. They drove over the edge of a cliff and the car burned up with them in it." Sarah began sobbing suddenly, letting the tears out that she'd been holding back for so long. They streamed down her cheeks in steady rivulets until Grant's hands softly brushed them away.
"That's a long time ago. A long, long time ago," he whispered softly. "What happened isn't your fault and you have to believe that. And you have to believe too there's nothing you can do now for them, and it'll never happen again. Never."
Sarah pressed his hand to her face, her tears made it wet and slippery. "But it will," she moaned. "I know it will. I - look what happened to that man Jim and - and Koken and Cliff. It's because of me, because I can't control my vile desires."
"But nothing's happened to me," Grant said softly. He stroked Sarah's soft, red hair. She jerked her head away from his hand.
"Yes, it has," she moaned. "You've been beaten up already. Isn't that enough? If this goes on - if you continue to - to fuck me, something terrible will happen. Something worse. You'll - you'll die."
"Shhhh," Grant said. Sarah felt him slide under the antelope skin cover she had wrapped around her, his body warm and throbbing against hers. "If that's all you're worried about, little girl," Grant whispered, "let's find out, shall we?" -
"What?" Sarah asked in a quivery voice. But she knew what he meant, could feel her body warming like morning toast.
"If you really are jinxed, voodooed." Grant's black hands began to caress her tense body, sliding down her back and sides, over her hips, thrilling her bones. She sighed and the tension went out of her body as she flattened against him. Carefully he eased his cock against her gaping slit.
Sarah hooked her legs over the backs of Grant's thighs. She felt herself stretching open wider and wider than she'd ever been before, grasping for his penetration. He eased his body forward and she guided him with the pressure of her legs.
"Ummmmm," she hummed as his prick slowly began plunging into her well. She could feel it moving up her insides, stretching her walls wide apart, reaming out the insides of her vagina. She was so relaxed and it felt so delicious she squirmed and rejoiced at the feel of that big head knocking around from one wall of her cunt to the other.
Grant snuggled against her evenly. His lips caught one of her breasts and he bowed his head and began to suck on it lustily, his tongue working and twisting around her nipple. It stood inches high all the time that he was doing that, and his hips maintained a regular rhythm, jouncing his cock in and out of her slathering cunt, making her gasp and groan with each movement of his hips.
The feeling was heavenly. Sarah soared on the highs and lows of his plunging penis as it reamed her out, stroked the strings of her sexuality until she was ready to come. It was like they were on a slide together, swooping down a long metal rail to land at the same time in a pile of soft, billowing sand. His prick got bigger and bigger inside her. She was filled until she couldn't hold any more, and then it exploded. A sheet of hot fluid erupted inside her and made her body vibrate with pleasure.
They fell asleep together, Grant cradling her close in his strong, brown arms, and Sarah feeling for the first time free of the curse that had made her life a hell.
"Goddamnmotherfucker! Get your ass out*of there!" Sunlight was creeping through the front window and Julie stood in the middle of the room, stark naked, screaming at Grant. Her eyes were yellow-rimmed with fury or envy, Sarah couldn't be sure which, but the black girl was raving obscenities at them both. Grant came awake and couldn't move for a moment. Sarah's arms were wrapped around him and her leg was flung over his thigh, holding him to her. Gently he untangled himself and sat up.
"Black motherfucker!" Julie screamed. "You had to go put your big, black cock into that silly white cunt just to prove you could do it. Fucking honky lover."
Sarah would have let Julie run down, but Grant said sharply, "Cut it off!" His voice rang in the room with authority. The Negro girl shut her mouth, her lips stretched in a taut, almost white line across her dark face.
"You tell me what for, Mr. Big Dick?" she said. "Before I throw your ass out in the street."
"It's not what you think, Julie." Grant stood, ignoring his nakedness, and tried to put his hand on the black girl's shoulder. She jerked away. "Come on, baby," he said.
"You come with me, you nigger," she said, jerking her head toward her bedroom and giving Sarah a fishy stare.
Grant looked at Sarah as if to say he didn't have any choice, and then he followed the black girl into her room. They closed the door behind them.
Sarah went to the bathroom, showered and wrapped the bathtowel around herself. When she came out, Grant and Julie seemed to be on speaking terms- or at least they were keeping each other company.
"Everything's all right, Sarah," Grant said jovially. "Julie understands everything now. Don't you, honey?"
"Yeah." Julie's monosyllabic reply was sharp, biting.
Sarah didn't like to look at the black girl's eyes. Julie's huge, yellow-white eyeballs still seemed to be suffused with a yellow cast of hatred or envy. Sarah didn't know which, but she didn't like^it. While they had breakfast, Grant dressed. He looked at Sarah and said, "I've been thinking on it and I think the best thing we can do is get some money out of Koken for that tape. You asked him for the money already, didn't you?"
Sarah thought back and remembered her call, remembered her decision on the telephone that had gotten her into all this. She nodded her head.
"It's time we have another talk with Arnie Koken. I think he'll pay up this time," Grant said grimly. He went into the front room and returned to the kitchen, carrying a telephone directory. Turning to the yellow pages, he looked up Koken's telephone number. Julie handed him the telephone and he set it on the kitchen table, scratching the number on a napkin with a pencil. Sarah was apprehensive, watching his finger in the telephone dial as he made the call. Erotically, she imagined that he was turning his fingers in her cunt that way, bringing her to a fantastic climax. She shivered. It seemed that any kind of tension gave her sexual feelings. "Arnie Koken please," Grant said. Sarah didn't hear the voice that replied, but she knew it was the answering service which would patch Grant's call into another number that would reach Koken. That's the way Koken worked. He had no personal office outside of the construction trailer, and his personal number was an answering service that forwarded his calls to the job sites he was on. The phone seemed to ring a long time, but Sarah knew when Koken answered. His voice was a nasty snarl.
"Hey, Arnie," Grant said. "It's me, Peter." Koken's snarl became a howl. Grant waited for the noise to ease down and then he said, "How about that package you promised the lady the other day?"
Koken growled and complained, but finally he told Grant that he had it.
"Listen, Koken," Grant said pleasantly into the telephone. "How about if I pick it up?"
Koken's answer was a confused, garbled sound.
"Hell no, I'm not bringing the tape," Grant said. "Knowing you, I'd never get away from there alive. I'll mail it to you afterwards."
Koken began snarling into the telephone again and Grant held it away from his ear. "Well, if you don't want it," he said casually, "we'll just have to mail it to somebody else, I guess."
There was a long silence on the telephone.
When Koken finally said it, even Sarah, could hear the words, "All right!" Koken growled into the telephone. "You got me by the balls this time. Come to the office."
"No soap," Grant said. "I'll meet you on the corner of Channel Islands and Ventura, on the northeast side. When I come by, just hand it in the window. Don't try to get in the car and don't try anything funny, Koken, or this stuff will go straight to the Attorney General's office."
Koken argued some more but his voice telegraphed his surrender before he actually said it. Grant hung up with a pleased expression on his face.
"Now, baby," he said to Sarah, "another couple of hours and the money's ours." His eyes looked into hers and Sarah felt a thrill, not because of the money but because of Grant. She barely noticed the evil looks Julie gave her. All she wanted to say was, Let's fuck, Grant. Let's do it right now and screw the money, but she didn't. She shared his happy exuberance with silence and a personal feeling of foreboding.
Grant banged out the back door and got in his car. He eased it around Julie's and down the long driveway. It was a long drive back to Oxnard and he didn't want to take a chance on Koken getting mad and blowing the deal because he was late.
Julie watched him go, then she turned to Sarah and said, "I've got to go to work, dear. Be a sweet thing and clean the kitchen up, will you?"
"Of course," Sarah said, pleased that the colored girl seemed friendlier.
"Oh, and you can wear one of my dresses too. Yours seems to have gotten so much . . . wear." Pointedly Julie looked at the tattered remains of Sarah's white blouse and emerald skirt. "Well, ta," the black girl said. She tucked something white into her purse and went out the back door and got into her car parked in front of the set-back garage.
Sarah stood at the window and stared a long time, gazing out the window in a euphoric haze. It seemed a long while before Sarah remembered the dishes. She went into the kitchen and picked up the dirty plates, washing them, rinsing them, and stacking them neatly on the sink to dry. As she wiped the checked tablecloth, something nagged at Sarah's thoughts. She stopped and stared at the table and tried to visualize it as it was. When she cleaned up she hadn't thrown anything away and yet.. . Painfully she searched her memory.
The napkin with Koken's phone number on it was gone. Grant wouldn't have taken it with him, he didn't need it. But Julie had put something white into her purse just before she left the house.
Sarah had thought it was a Kleenex. If it was the phone number, there was only one thing Julie could do with it - and that was to call Arnie Koken. Frantically Sarah went to the black girl's bedroom and ransacked the closet until she found a pink minidress that fit her well enough to at least cover her buttocks. She scuffled her feet into her loafers, grabbed her purse, and ran to the door. She didn't know what she should do or what she could do, but she knew what she had to do, and that was get out of that house right away, right then.
Chapter Nine
Darting away from the house as though it was on fire, Sarah had no idea which direction to turn. The tree-lined street rambled off in quiet solitude in both directions. There wasn't a car in sight and it was pointless for Sarah to hope for one. Besides, the thought chilled her, Grant would be coming back to the house and when he did she had to be there to warn him. Resolutely she started walking. The sun was low in the sky, she turned her back to it. Thousand Oaks was inland and Oxnard was practically on the water, so if she went west she might have a chance to intercept Grant when he came back from picking up the money.
A car slowed behind her. She was acutely conscious of her long, slender, lightly-tanned legs, and she worried, that the miniskirt didn't go low enough on her behind. Julie was a much shorter girl than she was. Nervously she smoothed the pink fabric down on her buttocks, feeling the soft, rounded swell of her cheeks as she did so. The car that had slowed down drew slightly ahead and stopped.
The driver rolled the window down. "You need a lift somewhere?" he asked cheerfully. He stared at her and licked his lips.
Sarah shook her head no, suddenly afraid that she would have a hard time getting rid of him. For a moment the driver leered at her jutting breasts until Sarah felt that she could actually feel his eyes rubbing into her flesh. Finally he nodded, stepped on the gas, and the car disappeared down the road. Sarah turned and stumbled through a drainage ditch alongside the asphalt and climbed up the other side into a grassy hammock created by the thick, old roots of the line of trees that stood sentinel along the roadway. She slid into the thick, green carpet of wild oats and rested her face on her hands.
She could see the street all right and with any luck wouldn't be noticed by a fast-moving car driving past. At least she hoped not. The sun blazed down on her back, warming it until she was almost uncomfortable. Sweat trickled off her body, gliding between the cleft of her thighs and tickling the sensitive lips of her vagina. Even the grass seemed to conspire against her, prickling her flesh wherever it touched her. Sarah squirmed and shivered, but there was no relief. Every moment only made things worse. Her skirt, already too short, worked its way up her hips. She felt stiff stems of wild grass tickling her thighs and cunt.
Sarah slid her hand down her body to push the stalks away. Her hand inadvertently came in contact with her sensitized cunt. Her fingers played in her squishy folds, rubbing furiously at her pink slot.
"Ooooooh," she moaned. Her body suddenly felt so cool in the hot sun, compared to the sudden hotness of her pussy lips. Her finger was like a cold stick digging up into her, soothing the inflamed lips of her sex. Involuntarily she worked her hips back and forth, grinding them down on her hand and forcing her slender probe into her cunt.
She pushed harder with her hips, trying to create more pressure on her probing digit. It didn't fill her, it only titillated her. Frantically, she rocked her body back and forth, faster and faster, her finger flashing in and out of her compressed and leaking slot.
"Aaaaaauuuuuuggghhh," she moaned. Sarah's whole body shook with the force of her orgasm and her cunt grasped her fingers with an intense sucking motion. Sarah relaxed after the intense convulsions, sprawling with her arms and legs completely limp. Her breath was still coming in gasps when the car zipped by on the road. She wasn't sure, but the driver looked like Arnie Koken. She buried her face in the soft grass, breathing the smell of rich earth.
She had been right. Julie had called the contractor out of spite or jealousy or envy, she didn't know which. But the black girl had betrayed them. Sarah strained her eyes up the road and prayed that Grant would come the same way. If he didn't... she shuddered at the thought.. . Koken would be waiting for Grant, and the contractor was a wild man.
He could kill them for what they had done to him. A black car was rushing down the road. Sarah tensed, ready to spring out. It had to be Grant. It had to be.
She almost leaped on to the side of the road and then she realized the driver was a white man. She dropped back down into the grass. Other cars went by and the heat grew more intense. Slowly Sarah realized that Grant might not be coming, he might have taken the money and run. The thought that he had betrayed her was sickening. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to except Grant. She thought about getting up and walking down the road to the house and facing Koken. There was nothing else she could do, she couldn't get away from him and she thought it would be better to get it over with now, not try to hide like some animal on the run.
She started to get up as a car got closer. Grant could have come the other way, she realized, too, and Koken might already have him, although she had the sick feeling that that wasn't the case. Possibly Grant and Julie had worked it together, betrayed her together. Blindly Sarah stumbled across the drainage ditch onto the road and turned toward the house. Car brakes squealed and the car that had been coming down the road pulled up.
"You want a ride, ma'am?" Dazedly, Sarah shook her head no, then she looked in the window and gasped.
"Oh, Grant," she said. "I'm sooooo glad you came. I - I was losing hope."
Peter Grant smiled at her, reached over and opened the door. Quickly Sarah slid into the passenger side of the car, not minding the way her skirt pulled up, letting the rough fabric of the seat rub against her exposed bottom and twat.
"What took you so long?" she scolded.
Grant put the car in gear and started to drive. "I had some errands to run," he said cryptically. He started to slow at Julie's house and turn in the driveway.
"No! Don't!" Sarah shouted. "Keep going!" She clawed at the wheel, straightening it out.
"What for?" Bewilderment clouded Grant's voice.
"Julie," Sarah said. "She called Koken."
Grant was still slowing down. "You're crazy."
"I sweat it!" Sarah's voice was stricken. "I saw them."
"Who?"
"Koken."
Grant glanced back at the house. "I don't see anybody."
"Their car went by, Grant," Sarah pleaded. "Don't you realize that she had to call them to come here?"
"Julie wouldn't do that," Grant said stubbornly.
"No?" Sarah asked. "Look." She pointed out the back window. Grant only had to swivel his head a little to recognize Cliff and Arnie Koken in the big Cadillac coming out of Julie's driveway. For a moment Sarah was stricken by guilt for Jim's absence.
"Damn," Grant said. "Damn. They must have parked in the back, behind the house." His foot was on the gas pedal and his tires spun wildly, throwing pieces of gravel as he goosed the car back onto the road. The speed indicator rose faster and faster. Sixty, then seventy, then eighty miles an hour. Grant threw the car into a four-wheel drift and turned off into a narrow side road.
"Where are we going?" Sarah gasped anxiously. She huddled in her seat, trying to stay out of Grant's way and not be thrown around inside the wildly bobbing car. Outside the car window the world seemed to flash by in instantaneous flashes.
"This road goes to Simi Valley," Grant gritted. "It's our best chance to lose them. That big Caddy is bigger than we are and faster, but we might pick up some time on this back road. It winds like a snake's belly and has holes in it big enough to hide a horse." The car seemed to understand what Grant said because it took that moment to run into a pothole and Sarah's head thunked against the roof of the car when they bounced out.
"I see what you mean," she said, rubbing her head.
Grant flashed her a grin and huddled over the wheel. Behind them the Cadillac rocked and swayed, pulling up on them in the flat spots, but falling behind in the wild gravel-strewn turns.
Suddenly Grant said, "Oh no!" They were practically flying down the back road, at least that's how Sarah looked at it, and straight ahead for miles it seemed there was nothing but gently undulating highway as straight as a piece of string, with a few gentle dips and rises that would be no trouble at all for the Cadillac. Grimly Grant held his foot down on the accelerator and the car whined and shuddered as it gained speed.
"They're catching up, Grant," Sarah said. She stared out the back window, her heart beating wildly. The Cadillac was almost on top of them, the metallic, golden finish clearly visible. "Can't you go any faster?"
"I'm going as fast as I can." Grant fishtailed the car a little on a slight curve. The Cadillac tried to pull abreast, but Grant hogged the middle of the road. Both sides of the road were flanked by soft shoulders or ditches, usually filled with irrigation water. Suddenly Grant laughed as he realized that there was nothing Koken could do to them.
"Goddamn," he said. "Koken must be seething. If he had a gun, he'd shoot us, but he doesn't. There's not a goddamned thing he can do." Chortling, the brawny Negro kept the car bearing straight down the center line of the two-lane road. Koken made a few wild efforts at passing, and then as soon as Sarah thought they had gotten away with it, the car jolted wildly with a weird clang.
"Damn," Grant said. The Cadillac had come up behind them and nudged the rear bumper, not very hard, but Grant had to fight to keep the sedan on the road.
"If they get us like that on a turn," Grant said grimly, "they may push us right off the road."
"There's one coming," Sarah gasped. She was right. Far ahead, but only seconds away at the speed they were traveling, was a sharp left turn.
"Damn." Grant gripped the steering wheel with all the strength in his hands, his knuckles practically turning white. Koken was wheeling the big Cadillac behind them, scowling behind the steering wheel as he deliberately rammed the rear of the sedan.
"There's a chance ..." Grant muttered. Slowly he applied pressure to the brakes. The sedan slowed, but not a whole lot. Koken was pushing them, his foot holding the gas pedal down to the floor while the big Cadillac scooped the lighter sedan in front of it like snow in front of a snowplow. The curve was rushing closer and closer. Sarah's throat was paralyzed, she couldn't scream if she had wanted to. In a moment, she knew, it would be all over. She put her hand on Peter's brown one.
"Grant..." she started to say, but Grant's foot had lashed off the brake and hit the gas pedal, and he jerked the wheel. The car began to spin, but he straightened it out in a four-wheel drift that ran them right up to the shoulder of the road and then back onto the asphalt. Sarah's head swiveled around. Behind them the Cadillac continued straight ahead, the automatic transmission no longer slipping at the heavy load. It was too late for Arnie Koken to get on the brakes. He couldn't have stopped the big car with a brick wall. It just hurdled over the irrigation ditch, plowed through a strip of barbed wire, tearing out about a hundred feet of fence, and came to a halt, tangled up in the rusty wire a dozen car lengths away from the road.
"Hot damn," Grant exalted. "Let's see him get out of that one." He slowed the pace of his own car to what seemed to be an unbearable crawl. He put his hand on Sarah's thigh. His warm touch made her shiver. "That's that," he said softly. His hand worked up Sarah's thigh under her miniskirt to caress the swollen lips of her pussy.
"Not here, Grant," Sarah said. "Please, not here." She was still catching her breath, gasping for air.
Grant laughed and his fingers played in her cunt. He slipped one in, then a second, and then a third. His fingers stretched her unbearably.
She slid her ass forward to the edge of the seat and spread her thighs so he could have more open access to her. She thrilled at each tiny movement. Sarah reciprocated by putting her own hand on Grant's thigh. Slowly she slid it down to his crotch, feeling the thick, rubbery tube of flesh under his Levis. He felt so big and comforting to Sarah, so pleasurable to her hand, that she had an insane desire.
"Move your fingers, please," she asked Grant. Puzzled he drew his sopping fingers out of her distended cunt. Sarah got on her hands and knees on the seat. Slowly she unzipped Grant's pants.
She sighed when his thick, black sex root plopped out. Slowly she lowered her lips, kissing the rounded head, tasting the oozing sperm that came from his slit. Kneeling as she was, Julie's pink dress was too short for Sarah. The frilly skirt pulled back over her hips, leaving her bare ass sticking out. Grant glanced at her soft rear and then he reached over with his big, brown hand and squeezed one of her milky-white buttock cheeks. Sarah moaned around her mouthful of cock and Grant, encouraged, slid his fingers down to her cleft. Gingerly his index finger grooved up and down that long notch, wetting itself with her fluid and teasing her excited cunt lips.
"Ummmmm," Sarah mumbled around his cock. She raised her hips higher, opening her cunt to even more intensive exploration by his hand. Suddenly she felt his thumb gliding through the crevice of her ass. It thrilled her when Grant let it rest on the wrinkled, puckered hole of her anus. Gently his finger crept into her hole, spreading her around it, then other fingers joined it while her hips gyrated back and forth, acknowledging the entrance of his fingers. She almost screamed with pleasure when his thumb bore down and slid into her sensitive asshole. She bucked wildly against his hand, able to feel the working of his finger and his thumb pressing against the ultra-sensitive membranes inside her body to touch each other.
Sarah's head bobbed up and down his cock at a furious rate, her lips grasping and holding it in her hot and wet mouth, her tongue licking frantically at his joy stick. She couldn't wait too much longer. She was going to come right away and she wanted him to come with her. She drove her mouth all the way down Grant's cock and held as much of it in her mouth as she could while her fingers played with his soft, brown balls. She wanted to scream that sne was coming, but she couldn't with a mouthful of cock. Instead she sucked harder, squeezed more firmly and pressed her ass hard back against his hand.
Grant gasped and Sarah could feel his cock swelling in her mouth, getting even bigger, almost too big for her to handle. It was hot. She sucked again and was rewarded by the spurting of his cream, his hot jism spattering inside her mouth and filling her throat. She swallowed convulsively her Adam's apple working frantically. The strength went out of her legs and it felt as if lightning had seared into her cunt. Grant inadvertently swerved the car and drove off the road before he could brake it to a halt and leaned panting against the steering wheel.
His cock was long and firm and limp. It stuck out of his pants and then drooped down, pointing at the floor. Sarah let it go.
"Ooooooh," she moaned as Grant slowly drew his fingers out of her hole. "Aaaaauuuu! That was lovely." She curled up on the front seat and lay her head on Grant's thigh, her hot breath pounding against his cock and nuts. Gingerly she stuck her tongue out and licked at his soft balls. Grant grunted and moved his hips. It tickled. She opened her mouth and engulfed his scrotum while her tongue slid eagerly back and forth, tasting it thoroughly. Grant petted and caressed her. His hand slid into the open front of her dress and lovingly caressed one of her full, pink-tipped breasts. Then he lifted her red hair and dropped it down her back, smoothing it away from her face. He started to zip his pants up.
"Don't," Sarah said. She stared at his cock, showing evidence of reviving, and his big balls. "I like watching them. Just drive."
Grant shrugged. He left his prick dangling out of his pants and started the car. Pulling away from the side of the road, he said, "Where to?"
Sarah shrugged. "I don't know."
As Grant drove, his face changed. "I have an idea," he said.
"That's good." Sarah opened her eyes a little and stared at his bobbing cock and balls. The sight of his round prick bouncing up and down was almost hypnotic and comforted her and made her feel drowsy at the same time. "What's that?"
Grant chuckled. "We'll go back to Julie's," he said. "They won't look for us there, and we owe that black bitch something." Momentarily Sarah was startled. It sounded odd, Grant calling Julie a "black bitch." But he was right. They did owe her something.
Chapter Ten
As Grant drove back toward Julie's house in Thousand Oaks by a round-about way that would get them safely past Koken, Sarah curled up on the seat beside him. She put her head on his lap until her face was only inches from his bloated prick. She licked her lips and they glistened wetly.
"Ummmmmm," she said. Grant looked down. The striking contrast between his long brown cock and her creamy white face excited him even more. With his right hand he began to stroke her cheek and head and back. Sarah wiggled her body. Grant's caresses sent little electric sparks running down her backbone and through her buttocks, making her feel tingly. She rubbed her cheek against his fully erect cock, marveling at the satiny smooth warmth of his prick head. A musky odor filled her nostrils. She inhaled deeply, reveling in it. Slowly she caressed his cock with her lips, leaving tracks of moisture from the purplish head all the way down to the base projecting out of his open pants front.
Sarah's face was scratched lightly by the curly black hair peeping out of his pants, but she didn't seem to mind. It was exciting. She could feel Grant's hand roaming over her back, sliding down to cup her buttocks and squeeze. Moisture had collected between her thighs and she was aware of the heavy beat and throb of the pulse in her cunt lips and pussy.
"Ooooooh, Grant," she moaned. She put her fevered lips on the tip of his cock and slowly pushed her head down. Grant's hand stiffened on her butt, his fingers tightened convulsively against the bottom edge of her cunt.
"Aaaaa," Sarah sighed around his thick, sweet staff. She sucked hard and her lips slid even further down his cock. Her tongue rimmed and lashed at the soft, bulky head of his prick. He was throbbing. Sarah could feel each beat of his heart. Slowly she slid her red lips up his prick and then drove them down, careful to keep her teeth away from his sensitive flesh. Her mouth was a hot cavern that Grant was lost in, her lips a tight cunt ringing his eager cock. She sucked faster and faster, and Grant's cock grew hot. He groaned and put his hand on the back of Sarah's head. His balls tightened against his body and a thick surge of hot fluid seemed to spring from his asshole and surge up his cock until it was an unbearable burning in the tip of his prick.
Grant sighed and Sarah felt him getting hotter and bigger, filling her mouth and then the hot outflow of cream began to flood her throat. She gulped convulsively, milking the sensitive, soft glans on the tip of Grant's prick as if it were a nipple. Grant groaned and almost lost control of the car before his prick shriveled down to halfway decent proportions and he was able to stuff it into his pants with one hand.
Sarah sat back on the seat, looking, dreaming, and licking her lips withevident pleasure. "I just love your cock," she said. "If we stop ..."
"No," Grant replied hastily. "We haven't time." It was a lie - the only one he could think of.
There was no one at the house when they pulled up. Grant rolled the car around back by the garage despite Sarah's protests.
Grant said, "Don't worry about it. They'll never think we'd come back here."
"I suppose you're right," Sarah said. She wasn't sure he was, but she knew that she had to trust Grant.
They made themselves at home and Sarah accepted Grant's assurance that they wouldn't have anything to worry about literally, and took a shower. She sat at the black girl's dressing table and primped with cologne and perfume and what little make-up was suitable for her complexion. Rummaging through a dresser, she found a pair of frilly, black panties which were a little snug, but set off the tone of her skin through the lacework. She could see, as she stood in front of the mirror, traces of her red pubic hair and the cleft bulge of her pussy. She slipped into an emerald green and white and orange print silk minidress that barely covered her buttocks and snugly clung to her braless tits.
She ran her hands up her smooth, flat belly and shivered as she cupped her breasts in her palms, feeling her hard nipples with her fingertips. Grant whistled, but he didn't do anything. Sarah turned on him, feeling hurt.
"What?" she said. "You're not interested?"
The big black man sprawled out on the bed and yawned. "Baby," he said, "after what I've been through in the past two days, Cleopatra wouldn't interest me." Sarah put on her sexiest pout but it did no good. Grant yawned again and before long the sound of snoring filled the bedroom. Sarah shrugged philosophically and went out to the front room to wait. Somebody, she knew, would have to get Grant up when Julie came home.
She'd been half dozing, sitting near the open window, feeling the heat from the midafternoon sun seeping into the house, when the sound of tires on concrete snapped her awake. She glanced out the window and hurriedly pulled back. Julie had just driven up the driveway. Quickly Sarah ran into the bedroom and woke Grant. It took him a minute to focus his eyes but as soon as he understood what she was saying he dashed through the kitchen to the back door. It was just in time. Julie had gotten out of the car and rounded the house and she stood in the back yard, her mouth open, her eyes round and wide, staring at his car. Her big, soft breasts rose and fell from the intensity of her emotion.
Grant flung the door open and stepped out into the yard. "Surprised?" he asked.
Julie fluttered her long silky black eyelashes and made a simpering smile on her face. "No, love," she said. "Should I be?"
"Maybe." Grant held the door open and indicated with his head that she should go in the house. For a moment Sarah almost felt pity for the black girl. Fright showed in her eyes and her black pupils darted wildly around, measuring the distance to her car and to the street, and looking fearfully at Grant. There was no place for her to run. Grant would outstrip her in seconds, and one of the penalties she paid for the relative isolation she had from her neighbors was that she could expect no help from them in an emergency.
Julie shrugged fatalistically and her big, lush breasts bulged sensuously against her blouse as she stepped into the house.
Grant put his hand on Julie's ass and roughly shoved her forward. The black girl flailed wildly with her arms and legs as she tried to keep her balance, and then fell in a disheveled heap on the animal-hide covered couch. As Julie composed herself, Sarah saw all the way under her dress to the moist, black, mystery of her pussy.
"What did you do that for?" Julie demanded.
"You double-crossed us, you bitch," Grant said.
"How can you say that?" Julie pouted. "You got your money, didn't you? And you got. . . her?" She nodded her head disdainfully at Sarah.
"Damn right." Grant's face twisted. "I really thought I could trust you," he said. "We've been so close. Almost like brother and sister."
"Sure," Julie sneered. "That's why you fuck me all the time, because we're just like brother and sister."
Grant shrugged uncomfortably. "Even closer than that," he admitted. "Lovers."
"That's right," Julie gritted. "And now you want to throw me over for this- this piece of white trash." Julie's voice had slumped into the husky tones of a martyred woman. It seemed to Sarah as if the girl wasn't seeing either of them, really. She was playing a part, a soap-box drama out of TV or the movies. "Do what you want," Julie said. She straightened herself on the sofa as if whatever Grant did - hit her, torture her, kill her - it was all one to her, she was a wronged woman.
"Goddamn it, Julie," Grant said, his voice softening. "We never promised anything to each other. We always knew it would end somehow."
Julie didn't pay any attention to his words. "Go on," she said, "hit me, beat me." She tore at her blouse, ripping it off, exposing the huge, firm, velvet blackness of her tits. Grant's eyes flicked uneasily from the girl's face to the magnificent boobs.
"For God's sake, Julie . . ." he implored.
"I can't defend myself against a beast like you," Julie continued ranting. She unsnapped her skirt and dropped it open, revealing the black, furry triangle of hair at her crotch. Grant licked his lips uneasily, the girl's black lush body, gleaming and primitive on the animal skins, was starting to get to him. His desire to get even was getting away from him. Sarah could see the huge hard bulge in the front of his pants. Languidly, Julie rolled over, exposing her soft round protruding behind, her breasts squashed under her into spongy black pillows that flowed out from the sides of her body.
"Beat me," Julie ordered. "Beat me! If that's what you want." Hesitantly, Grant stepped to the edge of the couch and brought his hand down hard. The smack echoed sharply in the room and hung there for what seemed minutes as Julie whined at the sound of the blow.
"Stop it, Grant," Sarah said softly. He didn't seem to hear her. He was staring down at Julie's flaming black skin. His hand came down hard again. Julie's butt cheeks quivered and she sobbed and moaned. As
Grant raised his hands his fingertips glided over her sensitive cunt lips and up the crevice of her ass. He struck her again and again. The black girl didn't resist. Slowly she rolled over, again staring up at Grant. A new look had come to her eyes. She wasn't playing the martyr any more, she was just a lover who had lost.
Her hand fluttered like a butterfly up the front of Grant's pants and opened his Levis, letting his huge Tootsie-Roll cock stick out.
"I'm sorry, Grant," Julie sobbed. "Beat me! Piss on me!" She stopped talking and her eyes grew wider as she stared up at his big black prick. "Piss on me," she begged. "Please!" Her hand reached up and gripped his prick and pulled it down until it was pointing at her body.
"I can't," Grant moaned.
"Yes you can, baby." Julie held his cock firmly in her warm black hand. "You can do it." A strained look came to Grant's face. Suddenly his dark cock twitched and shivered and a pencil-thin stream of hot, yellow liquid poured out of the end. It hit Julie on her right breast and the girl quivered erotically. With her own hand, she guided his prick up and down, coursing the stream of urine over her body, directing it down against the tender lips of her cunt. She moaned ecstatically as the urine splattered against her cleft and sprayed the fine, yellow drops on the rest of her body.
The yellow stream petered out and Julie wiggled on the couch as if she were on fire. "Oh, Grant," she moaned, "fuck me. Please fuck me."
Grant knelt on the couch between Julie's outspread legs. Slowly he lowered himself, his cock dipping into her urine-soaked pubic hair and plowing at the long, black, moist trench of her pussy. Julie squealed and raised her legs, separating her thighs even further. Slowly Grant began to plow his cock into her. Sarah watched his thick prick, wrenching the black girl's cunt open. She could almost feel the throbbing, purple head jamming its way up that narrow, moist, taut passage.
She was drawn to the couch by the sight and sound and smell of their animal-like lovemaking. As Grant's hips rose and fell, Sarah couldn't resist the impulse to put her hands on Grant's ass. As his hips went down she shoved hard, grinding his cock even harder and deeper into Julie's vibrating pussy. She felt as if she were thrusting Grant's huge prick into the black girl's snatch, as if she were bringing to reality the desire she once had to thrust something huge and brutal into the Negro girl's erotic slot.
Julie screamed and moaned and pounded back. "Aaaaauuuuu," she sighed. Sarah knew the moment had come. She slammed hard against Grant's ass, driving him down between Julie's spread thighs, then leaned all her weight into her arms as she held him, his cock driven up the black girl's passage, his pelvis grinding into hers, his balls exploding in a fury of hot liquid that deluged Julie's cunt. Grant moaned and quivered. Sarah felt his body exploding under her hands, the flexing of his ass cheeks as his muscles pumped the last drops of hot sticky sperm into the black girl's ravaging cunt. Slowly Sarah let go and sat on the floor, appalled at what she had done.
Grant got to his feet and looked ruefully down at himself. His shirt and pants were stained with the slick sheen of urine that had coated the front of
Julie's body, long strands of white sperm dripped from his limp cock.
"I didn't mean to .. ." he started to say, and then he shook himself and said, "Shit. Don't do anything more, Julie," he warned the girl before went into the bathroom.
Sarah listened to the sound of the shower drumming on the sliding glass door. "You could have gotten us killed, Julie," she said. "Not just me, but Grant too."
"I know. I didn't think about it then, but I've been scared all day." The black girl sat up and looked down at her naked body, still smelling of piss and semen, and shiny with sweat. "I was just jealous, blind mad jealous, and I didn't think," Julie said. "I'm still jealous but you and Grant don't have to worry. I know better now. I'm not going to do anything."
Grant came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, carrying his shirt and pants in his hand. Although she was naked, Julie got off the couch and walked across the room as if she were dressed for a ball, sweeping past Grant to go into the bathroom. Grant looked after her questioningly.
Sarah said, "She says she won't do anything more and . . . and I believe her." Sarah stood and took the clothes from Grant's hand. "There's a washer and dryer in the back. I'll run these through," she said.
"Thanks." Grant seemed unsure of himself. Sarah knew he wasn't sure if he was in the doghouse for fucking Julie or not. Perversely she felt a certain amount of satisfaction in keeping it that way.
Chapter Eleven
Grant had brought the small bag in from the car that he had gotten from Koken. It was a TWA flight bag and when he unzipped it, five banded packages of twenty-dollar bills spilled out. He stacked them on the table in front of Sarah.
He said, "There it is. It's all yours."
Unbelievingly, Sarah felt the crisp green bills with her fingers. "I - I never thought we'd really get it," she said finally.
"What did you ask for it for then?" Grant asked.
"I - I don't know. Spite, I guess."
"Spite?"
Sarah shook her head wonderingly. The money on the table was more than she had ever expected to see. She didn't know what to do with it. Julie came out of the bathroom, her dusky body wrapped in a huge white towel. She gasped when she saw the money.
"So that's what it's all about," she said.
"Partly." Grant was moody as he looked at the stack of bills in front of Sarah. "I suppose now that you've got what you want, you'll be leaving," he said.
"I - I don't know." Sarah felt confused. She had no idea what she was going to do. Up to now it had been Grant who had kept things going. He had saved her from Koken's wrath and had gotten the money from him, and Sarah felt strangely reluctant to break off her relationship with the black man. In some ways she was afraid of him. He was like an animal, the way he had pissed on Julie and then crudely raped her. Sarah blushed at the part she had taken in it, pounding his butt down hard to drive his shaft into the black girl's hot, gripping twat. And yet she didn't know what she should do. Helplessly, she looked from Grant to the money and back again.
"You - you take half," she said. "You deserve it for all you've done."
"No!" he said. "Keep it. It's all yours."
"Are you crazy, Grant?" Julie walked up to the table and picked up one of the stacks of money. "Take it. You deserve it. You took a lot of risks for it too."
"No!" Grant glowered at both women and stood up, pushing his chair back. "You keep it," he told Sarah. "It's what you wanted and now you've got it."
Sarah stared at his smooth, muscular chest and lean hips, covered by the towel he had wrapped around his waist. She had come to recognize the sensitivity in his eyes and the corners of his broad lips, and she could tell that somehow he was hurt, offended.
"I'll get your clothes," she said. She got up from the table, leaving the money there, and went out on the back porch to get his pants and shirt out of the dryer. When she went back into the house she let the screen door swing shut behind her with a loud bang. Grant and Julie apparently had chopped their argument off in the middle and sat glaring at each other. Silently she handed Grant his clothes.
"Are you sure," she asked, "that you don't want the money?" Grant shook his head. "Well," Sarah said, "if that's the way you feel. Will you come with me?" Grant's eyes slowly widened as he looked at the girl. "I mean," Sarah blushed, "half of it's really yours, and if you don't want to divide it you can - you can come with me and help me spend it." Sarah felt the blush creeping over her skin like a rash.
For a moment Grant's face was dark and then his lips split in a wide, happy grin, showing his white teeth. "That," he said, "sounds like a real proposition."
"Grant, you can't do it," Julie said. Grant looked at the black girl, his reaction seemed subdued.
"Why can't I?" he asked.
Julie shrugged. "You know what it's like out there. You and the whitey? Who's going'to accept that? Not them white folks or the black ones either. You're stepping out of your pasture."
"So what?" Grant said sharply. "We've got the money and . . ."
"And shit," Julie said. "You made twelve thousand a year as a construction worker, so how far do you think a measly ten thousand is going to take you? You're not going to sit up in a Beverly Hills mansion with a wall around it and guard dogs in the yard." The black girl sniffed disdainfully. "You're being a white-pussy chasing fool."
Grant slapped her. The sound of his palm striking her cheek was like a pistol shot in the room.
"Just keep your mouth shut," he snapped. "You've already interfered once too often." Julie shrugged again, she tried to appear nonchalant, but Sarah could sense the turbulent emotion the black girl was experiencing.
"Have it your way," Julie said. "It's your life." The black girl rubbed her cheek and went into the bedroom.
"What are we going to do, Grant?" Sarah asked.
Grant rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think Julie's right about one thing," he said. "Ten thousand isn't anything. I'm going to call Koken and ask for ten thousand more. If the tape is worth ten thousand to the bastard, then it's got to be worth twenty."
"Grant!" Sarah said, panic-stricken. "No. Please don't do that."
"Never you mind," Grant almost snarled. "I know what I'm doing. I don't need any of that shit from you too."
Sarah stared at him. She knew if she said any more he'd be furious with her as well as with Julie. "I'll go talk to Julie," she said. "Maybe I can make her understand."
"Yeah. Do that." Grant smiled at Sarah. "Go talk to her if you want to."
Sarah let herself into Julie's bedroom, silently closing the door behind herself. The black girl was sprawled on her black bedspread, the white towel wrapped around her a glaring blotch in the middle of the bed. Gingerly Sarah walked across the room and sat next to her.
"Don't - don't blame Grant," Sarah said.
Julie opened her eyes, her long, silky eyelashes fanning the air. "What do you mean don't blame the sonofabitch?" she said. She was dry-eyed but the rims of her eyes were red as if she'd been sobbing silently to herself, but Sarah felt a twinge of compassion for the black girl who had lost Grant.
"I don't blame you for feeling the way you do, Julie. I suppose if it was me I'd feel the same way. But you've got to understand Grant and I have a thing for each other."
"Love?" Julie said sarcastically.
"I suppose you'd call it love." Staring down at her hands, Sarah wished there was a better way to say it. "I think he loves me but he doesn't love you. He likes you, Julie. He likes you a whole lot."
"That's what you think," Julie said. "It's not you, it's your white skin that Grant loves." The black girl stood up and pulled the towel off her body. "Look," she commanded, raising her arms and pirouetting. Julie's lush, black breasts rose up and projected forward, firmly resilient, her black nipples like dark pencil erasers. Her breasts curved down to a flat stomach and tiny waist that flared out to broad hips and full, half moons of her behind. Her legs were tapered, ebony columns of beauty. Sarah couldn't take her eyes off the girl's black, sensuous body.
"Shit," Julie said, "you're not better looking than me, and you're not smarter, and you don't love Grant any more than I do. The only difference between us is your white skin."
"It - it's more than that," Sarah said uncertainly, but she couldn't be sure. The black girl could be right.
"Sure it is, honey," Julie said huskily. "It's sex. Right?"
"Nooooo," Sarah moaned.
Julie had her hands on Sarah's shoulders and turned her and pushed her back against the bed. "Sure it is, honey," she said. "You and Grant got so much passion for each other, you can't bear it." She pushed and Sarah fell back on the bed, moaning at the hot feel of Julie's hand on her lush, throbbing, braless breast. Her legs felt weak and she couldn't seem to fight back as Julie lay her naked body on top of her and caressed her. Julie's fingers eagerly traveled over Sarah's body, unhooking the buttons on the back of her dress and sliding it off and then working the black, frilly panties down Sarah's ivory-white thighs, leaving the patch of red pubic hair like a burst of flame on her crotch.
"Sure, it's sex. Isn't it, baby?" Julie urged again. She lowered her fuzzy, black head between Sarah's upthrust thighs. Sarah stared at the girl's black skin, contrasting against her creamy complexion, at the bushy natural hair-do, and then she moaned. She felt Julie's thin pink tongue stirring through her pubic hair.
"You mustn't, Julie," Sarah gasped. "You mustn't."
Julie chuckled evilly. "It's sex, isn't it?" she mumbled.
Sarah arched her back and screamed, her body was flooded with the feel of that warm firm tongue sliding up and down her defenseless trough and burrowing into the tight entrance to her hole. Each jab of Julie's tongue into her twat started a series of tremors in Sarah's body, jolting her through and through. She couldn't help it but her hips were bucking up and down, fucking her pussy on the black girl's probing tongue. Julie's lips slipped upward over Sarah's white skin until they grasped her rigid little clitoris. Sarah yelped, the feeling was so intense. She felt Julie's hands holding her buttocks, the black girl's fingers jabbing in the crack of her ass, one finger pressed tightly against her wrinkled rectum.
As Sarah's hips twisted and turned involuntarily, she felt that finger slipping into her asshole. Suddenly she stiffened.
"Yiiiiiiieeee," she cried.' The finger had burrowed into her and it felt like she was being fucked in the ass. The sensation of pleasure rolled up her spine and collided with that long, warm probe of Julie's tongue in her cunt. Sarah wrapped her legs around the black girl's head, feeling the scratch of her bushy hair-do against the inside of her thighs. She rocked her body back and forth, driving Julie's finger in and out of her clinging ass and sloshing the probing tongue up and down her gaping pussy.
She was coming. She squeezed harder with her thighs, pressing Julie's mouth tighter against her hot box. Her cunt seemed to collapse inside wetly. Her cunt lips quivered with pleasure at the feel of Julie's hot tongue trapped between them. Sarah groaned as she rubbed her crotch against the black girl's face. She couldn't control her panting and gasping for breath before she fell back on the bed, exhausted, ringing wet with sweat. Julie sat up and licked her lips lasciviously.
"Now, it's your turn," she said.
"What - what do you mean?" Sarah gasped.
Slowly the black girl crawled up Sarah's body, her thighs straddled Sarah's chest and Sarah's springy breasts rubbed against her legs. One of Sarah's nipples touched the black, curly hair between Julie's thighs as the girl moved up her body. Julie stopped when she was astraddle of Sarah's head. Then the white girl had only to open her eyes to look up into the blue-black lips of Julie's pussy. Gently Julie lowered her body.
"Suck it," she whispered huskily. "Get busy sucking it!"
"I - I can't," Sarah moaned.
"Shit if you can't." Julie wrapped her black fingers in Sarah's long red hair and pulled her head up until her lips were brushing against her cunt. "Do it," she hissed, "or I'll pull your hair out!"
Reluctantly Sarah licked her lips and then gently ran her sharp pointed tongue the length of Julie's groove. The black girl shuddered again and Sarah knew she had done what was wanted. Hesitantly, Sarah wedged her tongue into Julie's tight cunt lips. The black girl shuddered. It didn't taste bad. It was musky and sharp with a flavor of the black girl's twat. The flavor didn't put Sarah off. Eagerly she began licking the long crack, her tongue dragging over the smooth slick lips sensuously, enjoying the feel of it. Her tongue passed over the gaping mouth of Julie's yawning vagina and then sank inside it.
Sarah couldn't resist burrowing deeper and deeper inside the black girl's body. Then she flicked her tongue in and out, feeling the walls of the girl's cunt vibrate to the strumming of her tongue. With her finger she uncovered the projecting clitoris and stroked it softly but firmly until Julie was heaving up and down in her orgiastic excitement. Sarah could taste the dew that was being generated inside Julie's cunt. Eagerly she lapped at it until the black girl suddenly rammed her body down hard, covering Sarah's face completely with her crotch and black thighs while her pussy convulsed tightly around the white girl's probing tongue.
"I'm coming. I'm commmmmmming!" Julie screeched, and Sarah felt a wild tingle between her thighs. One of her hands slid down to her snatch and involuntarily her finger began to saw in and out, in .and out with furious speed. The feel and taste of Julie's own orgasm was enough to start Sarah's response. The black girl arched her back once more and then rolled off to sprawl panting on the bed. Her hand stroked Sarah's as it withdrew from Sarah's soppy cunt.
"That's what it is, isn't it, baby?" Julie asked in her deep, seductive voice. "It's just sex, isn't it?"
Sarah looked blankly at the black girl, her insides still not back to normal, her mind numbed by the horrible thing she had done, the horrible perverted sex she had had with this other woman.
"I -I don't know," Sarah finally said. "I really . . . don't know." Almost painfully, Sarah got up from the bed.
"You'd better be sure, baby," Julie was saying. "You're going to take that man and it isn't going to be easy. Hell, you can get sex anywhere withanybody, with any man - or any woman." Julie laughed shrilly, mockingly, and Sarah tried to stop her ears to the shrill sound of doubt the black girl was starting in her. She dressed herself and went to the door.
"I'll find out," Sarah said. "Maybe I'm wrong, but I'll find out."
Julie sneered. "If you can, baby," she said. "But don't count on it. I just might not let you." She laughed again. "Who knows? Maybe Grant will talk you out of it. There's a lot you don't know about him. I know, but you don't." The black girl sneered again.
"Stop trying to scare me," Sarah said. She put her hand on the door knob. "I know I'm right. I know it!" She stared steadily at the black girl. "If I wasn't right, why would you be trying so hard to stop me from taking him? If I was wrong, you'd be saying good riddance to bad rubbish. Wouldn't you?"
Julie lost her smile. "Maybe and maybe not, honey. There's more to a man than just a good and a bad."
Sarah stared at the black girl's burning eyes and felt queasy inside. She remembered how Julie's hands had felt hot and demanding on her breasts and how the black girl's tongue had caused her eager cunt to orgasm again and again as it swallowed the slippery-wet hot length. Sarah turned and opened the door. She wondered silently to herself if she really knew Grant, if she knew him at all.
Chapter Twelve
Grant was still on the telephone when Sarah went back into the other room. "Listen, Koken," he was saying. "The way I've got it figured, the ten thousand we got from you was for fucking Sarah and trying to double-cross us. If you're smart, and if you want that tape, you're going to come up with another ten �rand." Sarah could hear Koken's voice bellowing excitedly over the earphone. When it stopped, Grant said, "That's the way it's going to be. Or else!" He left the threat hanging and in the sudden quiet Sarah heard Koken's voice snouting over the line. "All right, all right, but it'll take a little time." "Not long, Koken," Grant said. "I'll call you back in the morning."
"It's going to take longer," Koken started to yell, but Grant hung up the telephone with a sharp click.
Sarah stared at Grant. "We don't need the money," she said. "What we've got is enough."
"No. It isn't. Not for what he did. Besides, like Julie said, it's a tough world out there and ten grand won't be enough." Grant's eyes strayed down Sarah's body, following the smooth curves and turns of her breasts and hips - focusing on the round hard bulges of her nipples through the sheer material. "All we've got to do now," Grant said, "is kill the night, pick up the money from Koken in the morning, and we're home free with twenty thousand dollars."
Sarah didn't like the greedy tone of Grant's voice. That scared her. Koken was a violent man. He had already demonstrated that he was capable of almost anything and now-
"Please, Grant," she said. "Can't we just forget it and go now?"
Grant put his warm brown hand on Sarah's shoulder, his fingers stroking the side of her neck. "In the morning, baby," he said. "How did you and Julie get on?"
Sarah shrugged uncomfortably. "We- we understand each other a little," she said hesitantly. "I don't think we'll ever be great friends."
Grant smiled. "That's not surprising," he said. "Two women are never happy with one man."
"Let's leave her anyway, Peter," Sarah said, using his first name for the first time. "Please."
Grant's hand slipped under the flowing mane of red hair and cupped the back of her head, pulling Sarah to him. The black man's hot fat lips covered hers, his tongue dug into her mouth, wiggling against her teeth and gums and the insides of her cheeks. It started hot electric sparks racing through Sarah's body. Momentarily she forgot the dreadful sense of urgency which seemed to encompass her.
"We've got nothing to worry about," Grant said. "In the morning we'll get the rest of the money and be gone. And we'll stay here tonight. It's easier than looking for a new place. Koken won't expect it."
"How do you know, Grant?" Sarah asked.
"I just know," Grant said simply, and he pushed her back against the couch and gently laid her down on it.
"Ooooooooh," she said.
Grant followed Sarah onto the couch. "Just think," he said, "by this time tomorrow, we'll have our pockets full of money and we can go anywhere we want. Maybe we'll go to Las Vegas first, and then to Florida. I've always wanted to see Miami."
"Whatever you say, Grant," Sarah moaned.
She put her arms around him, thrilling to the sharp contrast of her light skin against his rich, brown color, his body pressed against hers, and she could feel the beat of his heart in her body, and the demanding bulge of his cock in his pants where it pressed against her crotch.
"Oooooouuuuu," she said, squirming. His fingers had slid up the "V" of her thighs to touch her dewy crotch, her butt quivered. "Let me get out of these clothes," she gasped, "before we wreck them."
Grant smiled at her, his warm friendly smile, and raised off. Quickly Sarah slipped her dress over her head and skimmed the lacy-black panties off her feet. She stood posing for Grant, aware of the thrust of her hips and breasts, the mysterious hollows of her body and crotch. She could feel the animal lust burning inside her as Grant's eyes seemed to devour her flesh. Without taking his eyes off her, Grant tore at his own clothes, throwing them into a pile on the floor. His rod was thick around and rigidly at attention. Sarah's mouth watered as she looked at it. She knew Julie was wrong. It wasn't just sex. She fought the nagging doubt as she got back on the couchand let Grant cover her with his big muscular body once again.
"Ooooouuuu," she moaned as his cock invaded her slick cunt lips. The sensation had nothing in common with the moment she had spent with Julie. The black girl's tongue could never stretch her the way Grant's massive rod did, nor plunge as deeply into her. She shuddered as his balls slapped against her ass and his big long black cock crammed its full length into her eager slit. Sarah's cunt throbbed and twisted around Grant's heaving prick.
"Give it to me, Grant!" she murmured. "Ooooooh, please. Stick it all the way in."
Grinning, Grant redoubled his pace, his hips rising high and almost jerking his huge penis out of her hole until it felt as if Sarah had lost him, and then just when she gave up hope, he reversed his direction and slammed his pelvis against her, driving his huge rod deep into her belly, causing her to moan with passion. It was like a battlefield. Grant pounded into her harder and harder and she liked it all the more, forcing her body against his, her fingernails digging into his back, tearing at him as he thrashed his cock around in her hot slippery cunt.
"That's the way," Sarah gasped. "Give me more. MORE! Shove your long, slippery prick into me until it comes out my mouth." She moaned and pressed her lips to his, filling her mouth with his hot tongue, nipping at it with her teeth. Grant's prick ran hotly up and down her tunnel. It seemed to sizzle inside her and Sarah thought wildly of a steamhose reaming her insides out, scalding her until she couldn't see with pleasure.
"Goddamn, fuck me! FUCK ME!" Grant said savagely. He pushed her to the end of the cushions on the couch and ground his prick into her with unrelenting fury. Sarah felt a swelling inside her, pushing her passage wider than before until it felt as if she would be split wide open by Grant's demanding cock. "Oh God, oh God," Grant moaned, and then his prick was jerking and squirting inside Sarah, steaming, long, hot streams of sticky fluid into her cunt that made her whole body dissolve in ecstatic bliss. She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, clutching him to her, feeling each savage thrust of his cock, each wild spurt of his hot juice, feeling the sharp wiry ends of his curly pubic hair grinding into her tender cunt.
"Yiiiii," she screamed out her climax for everyone to hear, for Grant to hear and for Julie, particularly for Julie in her bedroom to hear. Sarah wanted the black girl to know that she was wrong, that it wasn't just sex, that with Grant it was different. Really different.
They lay together a long time on the couch, not saying anything. Grant smoked a cigarette and stubbed it out when he was halfway done, and rolled over and tried to go to sleep. Outside the light was fast disappearing and the room was soon pitched into gloom. Julie had made no sound and apparently was staying close to the bedroom after her sex bout with
Sarah. In a way Sarah was glad she uidn't have the black girl to contend with. She was worried and she didn't know what to do about it. Julie could have been right. The thought nagged at Sarah, over and over.
What did she really know about Grant? she wondered to herself, besides how well he fucked? And she didn't really know about that. Grant was the first man to ever fuck her and, outside of Koken and his two thugs, Sarah had had no experience with any other man. Just her casual thing with Julie. The red-headed girl shivered in the darkness and huddled closer to Grant's strong, warm body. Did Grant love her? she wondered to herself, or was it the money and - and her being white?
His hand moved down her hip and slipped between her warm thighs to nestle against her crotch, and Sarah shivered. It was possible, as Julie had said, that Grant was attracted to her because of her color more than anything else. Sarah felt his fingers stroking her pussy, making her realize that even in his sleep Grant's subconscious mind was interested in her sexuality. She nestled against him, feeling his warmth on her soft breasts and smelling his strange musky odor. She knew what she'd have to do in the morning, and that was all she could do, and hope.
Holding tight to the husky Negro, Sarah fell into a troubled sleep.
Sarah awoke in the morning feeling something pleasant prodding at her crotch. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Grant's smiling face.
"Hi," he said. He had her wrapped in his large black arms, she could feel his muscles against her shoulders and back. The sensation she felt between her legs was his cock slowly rubbing against the lips of her cunt. The feeling was intense, almost unbelievable because she was still dry down there. Each touch of his cock was magnified a thousand times by the friction it generated. Sarah wriggled and his big, meaty penis head touched her pussy lips again, making her convulse with pleasure.
As if reading her mind, Grant smiled and said, "It's my good-morning hard-on." Sarah smiled back uncertainly. "I always wake up in the morning," Grant said, "with a little something. I thought I'd let you enjoy it too." Sarah smiled, faltered, but she renewed it with an effort.
"If that's what you want," she sighed.
"It's the best wake-me-up I know." Grant pressed against her and Sarah could feel his joint pistoning up her cunt, still tight and tender from the night before.
"Oh, oh, oh," she moaned. They were both still warm and musty from sleep. It seemed to Sarah as if they were both running temperatures as Grant sawed his big prick in and out of her cunt with tenderly savage delight. It was almost as if she were losing her maidenhood all over again and the desire built in Sarah to carry the act to a climax. Suddenly she put her hands against Grant's chest, feeling his nipples under her warm moist palms as she pushed him away.
"Wait," she said. "Wait!" Bewilderment showed on Grant's face as he allowed Sarah to push her body back from his and then she slopped on her belly. She crossed her hands and rested her cheek on them and closed her eyes dreamily. "I want to - to fuck - I want you to fuck me in the ass," she whispered. Her whole body quivered at the words. She had finally let the salacious desire out into the open. It was something she had secretly thought about since it had happened in the hotel room, and at the moment the craving to try it again seemed normal, almost perfect.
"Are you sure?" Grant's voice was dubious but his prick was vibrating eagerly. Sarah nodded. She didn't want to talk about it, she just wanted to feel it. As it was, her cunt gaped open and empty from the retreat of his prick and she thought she would scream if he didn't do something in a hurry. Grant knelt behind her. Instead of sticking his prick between her ass cheeks, he bent and kissed them, slowly and sensuously, warming the round halves of her buttocks and caressing them with his tongue until her whole rear end tingled. His tongue lighted between the two plump, firm, half-moons of her ass and slid along her rear crevice.
Sarah squealed but didn't move. His tongue was getting closer and closer to the wrinkled, brown star of her asshole, and she felt the liquid of her desire pouring out of her cunt in a steady stream. Suddenly Grant stopped and his tongue ringed that tight-pursed fleshy opening before dipping into its center. Sarah's body tensed with anticipation. Would he? she wondered. It was so dirty and yet. . . her whole body was rigid, and then he did it.
Grant's tongue curled into a thick, heavy tube and plunged through that wrinkled muscle into her rectum. Sarah stifled a sob as the feeling of entrance-pleasure spread through her body. She could feel Grant lapping at her asshole opening, and she shivered with each touch of his tongue. Her whole rear felt loose and wonderful. Slowly Grant moved up her body, his mouth kissing and licking at her spine, leaving a wet, slick trail up her flesh until he was covering her completely. His hand circled under her chest and cupped her full, firm breasts, squeezing and milking them until her tits were swollen and her nipples stuck out like nails.
At that same time, his huge cock slid into her tiny back opening. It pushed and worked at her rear until she was spread open and it was inside her, a great black ball filling her stretched asshole. She moaned and cried out. Then she turned her head and clamped her lips on the knuckle of his hand that was kneading her tit. She sucked wildly at Grant's brown finger as his cock slowly disappeared into her asshole. Inch by steady inch he lowered his hips, that huge prod sliding up her rectum as if it were greased. She sucked wildly on his finger, gnawing it with her sharp teeth while he squeezed and mauled her breasts.
She moaned around his finger in her mouth and swallowed convulsively as the saliva built up in her in unlimited quantities. Grant's cock finally stopped, his balls lay between Sarah's thighs and slammed softly against her red-haired cunt. She was full, incredibly full. She felt as if she couldn't put her legs together and pleasure seemed to radiate from every inch of her bloated rear end. She wiggled and the sharp prickle of animal hair on the hide-covered couch stroked her sensitized clitoris. Grant pounded in and out of her behind, his fingers never losing their grip on her tits. Their bodies went up and down hysterically on the hide, the hair prickling her whole body until her front was super-sensitized.
Grant ground down harder and harder into her asshole, threatening to split her, but Sarah didn't care. She bucked up taking the pleasure, feeling it radiate through her body. She squeezed her bowels as if she were shitting, and Grant moaned his pleasure. He pushed into her harder and harder, squeezing her breasts cruelly until they almost hurt, and then when it seemed he couldn't do anything else, his cock erupted in a fiery burst of semen that traced a path up Sarah's rear to her stomach and started convulsions racketing silently through her body, and all she could do was lay helpless under his weight, sucking his finger, shivering with unlimited sensual pleasure.
"How pretty!" Julie stared down at them. She had come out of the bedroom and was fully dressed in a black minisuit, black high heels, and black gloves that somehow reminded Sarah of death or mourning. The fact that the deep black of the girl's clothing didn't match the even blacker richness of her skin made her dress all the more impressive.
"Where are you going?" Grant growled.
"I've got to go to work, Mr. Grant," Julie said, "even if you don't."
"All right." Grant shrugged. "Julie . . ." he started to say.
"What?"
"I. . . nothing," Grant said. "I'm just sorry, that's all."
"So am I," the black girl said. She didn't look at Sarah's white body under Grant. She just seemed to pretend the red-headed girl wasn't there at all. "Will you be here when I get back?"
Grant shrugged. "It depends on when we get what we want from Koken. After that, I think we'll have to split."
"I suppose you're right." Julie picked up her purse and went into the kitchen where Sarah heard her open the refrigerator door for a glass of orange juice. After a few minutes, almost too few seconds for Julie to even drink it, they heard the staccato beat of her high heels across the kitchen floor and the slamming of the screen door to the backyard.
Slowly Grant stretched and got off Sarah, his soft, shriveled worm of a cock pulling out of her with a soft, sucking sound. Sarah groaned as the comfort of the intruder left her excited asshole.
"I'm going to take a shower," Grant said. He patted Sarah's contented rear. "You just lie here until I get back, all right?"
"Okay," Sarah muttered.
Grant got up, went into the bathroom and immediately started the shower running. A naggint hought kept intruding on Sarah's mind. She couldn't maintain her pretense of sleep. Getting up, she padded naked into the kitchen to fix herself a glass of orange juice. She was surprised to see Julie's full glass still sitting on the kitchen table. She shrugged and picked it up and started to drink it, enjoying the sharp, still-cold juice washing the sleep out of her mouth, and then she looked at the bare table for a moment. She ran to the bathroom door, threw it open and rushed in. Grant was standing under the steady beat of the shower, whistling happily to himself while his fingers lathered and washed his huge, flaccid prick. He turned his head, looked at Sarah and his smile grew even broader, his prick seemed magically to harden.
"Come on in," he said happily. "The water's fine."
"Where's the money?" Sarah blurted.
"It's on the kitchen table." Grant looked at Sarah and he could read the expression of horror in her face. He jumped out of the shower and left it running as he dashed through the house, spraying water from his naked body. He stood looking at the table, empty except for the half-finished glass of orange juice. "Goddamn," he said. "Goddamn!"
"Julie took it," Sarah said quietly. "She came out to make herself some orange juice and she saw it there and she took it."
"You know what she'll do?" Grant demanded. Sarah shook her head, feeling the long strands of her red hair lash against her breasts and arouse her nipples to their full hardness. "She'll call Koken. That's what she'll do. Goddamn it," Grant said. "She knows she can't keep the money any other way."
Frantically he threw his clothes on. As Sarah got dressed she retrieved her bag from under the couch where it had been kicked when she and Grant had fucked on the sofa. She flicked it open and was relieved to see the newspaper wrapped parcel still in it.
"Let's go, let's go!" Grant coerced. He grabbed Sarah by the arm and jerked her into the back where they got into the car.
"If she got into Los Angeles..." Sarah said, leaving the sentence half finished.
"I'll get her," Grant swore. "I'll wait and get that bitch if it kills me."
"Why don't we just go away, Grant?" Sarah asked.
"Because we need the money," Grant gritted. "If she stopped to call from a phone booth before we left the house - it's our only chance."
They had gone maybe three miles and Sarah said, "There she is." She pointed at Julie's car. It was sitting in a service station with two public phones at one end. Grant spun the car around and drove it over to the pumps on the other side of the building where Julie couldn't see them.
"Fill it up," Grant said to the attendant. As he got out of the car he whispered to Sarah, "Keep the attendant occupied." She nodded and she wanted to tell Grant not to do anything foolish. She was terrified by the reckless mood he seemed to be in. The station attendant was a young kid, maybe eighteen, with long blond hair and a big nose. He leered at Sarah through the windows of the car as he spent an extra-long time cleaning them off, all of them, even the side windows, then she realized that the too-tight dress of Julie's had something to do with it. Also she slowly understood the fact that she was with a black man excited his attention, perhaps made him think that she was an easy lay. He was done with the gas and Grant still hadn't come back.
"Please," she said. She opened the door and slid out, letting the kid get a quick view up her tight skirt to the lacy-black panties with the fringe of red hair around them. "Could you - could you check the oil and battery?" she asked. "And the radiator too?"
The kid looked at her, his eyes focusing on the lush swells of her breasts. He gulped and his big Adam's apple made a bulge in his neck. He nodded his head, never taking his eyes off Julie until he opened the hood and she stepped around and accidentally-on-purpose let her breast touch his arm as he fished for the oil dipstick. He almost dropped it when he did get hold of it. Sarah made a point of standing near to him as he finished checking under the hood. One of his hands strayed to her rump and lightly caressed her butt.
"All done here?" Grant's voice sounded nasty and harsh, and hastily the kid took his hand away, leaving a warm spot on Sarah's ass where it had been.
"Yeah. Sure, Mister," the kid said. "Everything's fine." He looked guilty and sheepish as he closed the hood. Sarah noted the blue and white TWA flight bag hanging from Grant's shoulder, and felt an overwhelming sense of relief and fear. Grant nodded at her and slid behind the wheel. She got in on her own side and they drove out of the station. Sarah craned her neck, staring at the station, and was relieved to see Julie sitting in her car at the wheel, her face in her hands, obviously crying. She felt relief and sympathy for the black girl. She felt relief that Grant hadn't really hurt her.
"It wasn't her fault," Sarah said. "She was jealous and-"
"She betrayed us," Grant finished.
Sarah shrugged. "Let's get out of here, Grant. Let's go somewhere. Mexico City or Lima, Peru or anywhere."
"Koken will be bringing the money."
"Fuck the money." Sarah heard the expletive explode from her lips unbelievingly. "I don't want the money and we don't need it. Hasn't it caused us enough trouble already?" Sarah put the plea into words for the first time. "If you love me, Grant," she said, "you'll do as I ask. You'll forget the money. You'll leave it. Ten thousand dollars is enough."
Grant stared at her but didn't say anything, but Sarah could read the argument on his lips.
"If you don't, Grant," she said, "I'll leave you. You can have the tape and the money, but I'll leave you." For an awful moment, for an endless terror-stricken instant in her life, Sarah was not sure of what Grant's answer would be.
Sarah sighed happily. She felt Grant's thick fingers stealing up her thigh as she feigned sleep. Her cunt was wet already, but she pretended she wasn't waiting for him, ready and eager for the game to continue. Outside the window the palm trees sighed in the gentle west wind that blew off the Atlantic Ocean.
"Aaaaahhhhaaahuhuh!" She couldn't stop the contentment from pouring from her lungs. Grant's brown fingers were working at the thick, heavy folds of her cunt, stretching her, opening her pussy for what she wanted - his fat slippery wet penis to slip into her and probe her pulsating depths.
"Going to the Virgin Islands," Grant chuckled.
She felt his broad flat nose slide down her belly and rub eagerly against her hard straight clitoris, sending electric thrills through her body while his tongue seemed to harden and drill into her leaking slot.
"P-p-p-please?" she begged.
"Please what?" Grant asked. His question was muffled by the soft lips of Sarah's pussy around his mouth.
"Please fuck me . . ." Sarah moaned.
"Not afraid any more?" Grant's voice was closer. He was pulling himself up her body, his heavy muscles rubbing against her sensitive white mounds with their cherry-red tips.
"No," Sarah said. And she wasn't. Grant had explained to her about a guilt transference and she realized - finally - that she wasn't responsible for her father's death. If anything, it was his own sexuality that had killed him. Sarah sighed and raised her legs, opening her slit more fully to Grant's probing cock. It felt heavenly, sliding slickly between her spread cunt lips and stretching her out and out and out.
"Ughhh," Grant grunted as he bottomed out. "Tight!"
"Ummmmmhum." Sarah twisted her hips, feeling the luscious pressure of his flesh bullet digging into her interior and stretching her out around him.
She wrapped her arms around his thick neck and drew his brown head down on hers while he lurched and pounded into her. Grant's thick tongue just naturally slid into her hot mouth and she sucked contentedly on it. Nothing was going to happen to Grant, she thought fondly. She tightened her arms around him and wrapped her legs around his hips, locking her ankles over the small of his back. Slowly they began to rock back and forth and his prick sawed slowly and evenly in and out of her drippy cunt.
As she thought of Koken and his massive hard-on and his rage, particularly his rage, Sarah's body got hotter and she began pounding her ass up against Grant's big prick, swallowing it all each time and delighting to the sensation of his body, slapping hard against her pubes.
Faster and faster and faster.
"Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, ahhh, ah, ah, arghhh," Sarah sighed as her cunt tightened like a glove around Grant's cock, and it felt like she was being pulled inside out.
"Shit!" Grant sobbed. He came after her, his come spurting hotly inside her quivering tunnel.
Sarah smiled at the ceiling, feeling Grant fill her. Koken would never find them here, in the Virgin Islands, filled with men the same color as Grant. She shuddered and climaxed again.
It always did that to her, remembering how she had talked Peter into sending the tape recording to the Attorney General. Sarah smiled contentedly as Grant's weight settled on her. In her own way, she had fucked Koken, and it felt sweet. . .
