Gayle Sturgeon was already completely naked. She was propped against the headboard of the huge bed and was staring at Billy Joe as he unbuttoned his shirt.
The young man grunted a reply that could be interpreted in any way the older woman wanted. He slipped another button through its hole and let his eyes wander over the still lush and desirable body of the older woman.
Gayle Sturgeon was perhaps forty or forty-three years of age and still boasted the same measurements she had had over twenty years before. True, there had been a certain maturation to her flesh, but her breasts were still firm and her stomach muscles were still toned after three children. The soft tuft of auburn hair covering her love mound was untouched by the chemist's hue and Billy Joe could see that it was already dampening in eager expectation of what was about to happen.
"God, you're slow!" Gayle sounded peevish. "Hurry up, will you?"
It was always the same, Billy Joe thought. Always exactly the same. Maybe that was why he liked it this way. He grunted again trying to appear shy and unused to what was about to happen.
"Can't go any faster than I am," he said. "These buttons are tight."
He knew what was happening to her. She had the hots. They all had the hots. Hell, he knew what he was built like and what he looked like. Big blue, innocent eyes that he worked on making seem more innocent even though they'd seen nearly twice as much as any man twice his age. Man, he almost laughed out loud. Hell, he was only eighteen and here she was in her forties.
But he liked it that way. As he slipped his sleeves out of his shirt, he felt the hot desire in her as her eyes rolled over his muscular, young torso.
Billy Joe liked his sex this way. His eyes never moved. Like a laser beam of curiosity they stared directly at Gayle's center of love. He could almost see her delicate inner nerves pulsating in a maddening increase of desire. He really could see the little beads of hot moisture seeping from within the hot channel of her passion and glistening on the auburn hair or moistening the flesh of her upper thighs.
Then, he saw the movement he had waited for. She closed her eyes tightly and he saw her clench the fingers of her hands tightly together. Then her hands snaked across the sheets of the motel's bed and caressed her upper thighs.
"Jesus," she whined. "You're slow, boy. I just can't wait."
He fumbled with his fly. "Can't go any faster, lady."
"I can't help it." She was almost apologetic. "I just can't help it."
Billy Joe watched as she pulled her right hand upward to her groin and began to play her second finger in a slow rhythm against the hot knob of her clitoris. That's what he liked ... to watch them get so hot they just couldn't help themselves. They were so greedy, the old ones, not like the kids of eighteen and twenty who were so independent. No, he liked the older ones, the ones past thirty who knew about sex and were looking for it all the time.
Her eyes were closed now, but his were wide open as he stared at her moving finger. He slipped his legs out of his jeans and shoes and socks and then pulled his underdrawers down. He stood completely naked beside the bed, a young wanderer built like a Greek statue.
She could not see him. She was already bringing herself to her own private world of sexual pleasure from which she had now almost entirely excluded him.
"Hey," he said at length, still staring at her hand and its single moving finger, "can you really come off that way? I mean make yourself pop just playing with it like that?"
She opened her eyes. The moving finger stopped. He wasn't sure if her expression indicated that she was annoyed or puzzled or perhaps a little of both.
"Jesus I" she said. "You are really something else. Don't you want to fuck? Hell, there are guys who live in this town who would give their left nut for five minutes with me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah!" she said.
"You know I'm not from this town. Hell, I don't even hail from anywheres near here."
"Are you pulling my leg, boy?"
Billy Joe smiled his most ingratiating smile. He knew he looked pure and innocent and cherry. He shuffled one bare foot on the room's floor. "Hell no," he drawled. "I just ... well ... you know how it is the first time and all...."
The hard lines of her face softened. For a second, she might even have been described as looking compassionate. She lifted herself higher on the bed and extended both arms to him.
"C'mere," she said kindly. "I understand, believe me. I'm going to show you everything, Billy. And we're both going to have us some real far-out fun."
She drew him down to the bed and pulled him tightly but tenderly against the warm flesh of her naked body. She held him firmly for some long seconds and then began to play her lips over his face and neck and ears. As she toyed with his mouth and caressed his ears and chin with her tongue, her hands roved the hard muscular surfaces of his body until finally, she eased him onto his back and leaned over him.
Her right hand was now grasping his hard member, her large breasts swayed over his chest and her head leaned over his.
"You ever had a girl jack you off?" she asked.
Again he grunted. It was the same noncommittal sound he had made before--the same inchoate noise in his throat that could be interpreted in any way the listener chose.
"Bet it feels good, doesn't it?" she cooed as she began to move her hand up and down the length of his hard masculine shaft.
Again he grunted.
Then suddenly she stopped moving her hand. "Hey!" she said.
"What?"
"I'm just worried that you're going to be what I want, too."
"What's that?"
"Well, it isn't some young stud who's no stud at all."
"What do you mean by that?" "I mean, you better be able to get that thing up again after I get your nuts off for you, or you're going to have one angry woman here with you."
"Hell--" he almost laughed. "You just teach me anything you like," he drawled. "That ole thing can be as hard as you want it any time you want it hard. Don't you worry none about that."
He saw the flash of pure lust in her eyes and again felt her hand moving up and down on his manhood. That was what he liked. Lying there, doing nothing, having the woman make every move for him, teaching him all about her body and his own and going silently mad with lust because he wasn't supposed to know anything about the whole business.
Her large breasts swayed over his chest. He watched them--two huge pink-tipped pendulums swaying back and forth almost screaming out that they wanted to be touched, caressed by his knowing fingers or licked into tingling arousal by his tongue.
But he did not move. He let her do the moving. He let her guide the entire pattern of their lovemaking until he could see the slight flicker of exasperation in her eyes.
"Don't you like tittie?" she asked.
"Sure," he managed. "I guess so."
"Don't you want to play with them?"
"Play with them?"
"Touch them, Billy Joe. Put your fingers on my titties and squeeze the nipples. Oh yes, Billy Joe. Just like that. Make them sing for you. Oh. Jesus, Billy Joe, your hands feel good on me like that."
He knew what his hands felt like. He knew exactly where her nerves were and exactly how to fondle her nipples to make them receive the greatest possible pleasure from his ministrations.
As he fondled her hanging breasts, she continued to move her fist up and down the length of his penis in a faster and faster rhythm. Looking at her face, he realized she was wildly eager to have him ejaculate his semen on her and he was determined to please her in any way he could.
"You want me to shoot off?" he asked innocently.
"Yeah." she was almost gasping. "Yeah...."
"You want it on your titties?"
Her fist moved more rapidly. Her breathing became more heavy. She was now barely able to speak. "Yeah. Billy Joe. On my titties. Shoot it all over me ... all on me...."
He let her play with his organ for a few seconds more and then felt the great snapping well of release inside himself. He positioned his body so that he was aiming his member at her bosom and then saw the jetted spurt of semen soar high over them and spatter against her swaying breasts.
"Oh, yes," she gasped. "It's hot, Billy Joe. It's so hot!" She was kneeling over him, still playing gently with his penis, her eyes were shut now and her head was rolling as though it was she who had experienced the release, not he. They remained that way for some long moments. He looking at her, enjoying the post release pleasure of his own body and making that enjoyment double by the knowledge that he had thrilled her.
Finally, her hand still on his member, she lay down beside him on the big bed. She reached out to an end table where she had placed her purse when they had first come into the room, fumbled in it a moment and finally extracted a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter.
"Smoke?" she offered him the pack.
"Don't use 'em," he told her.
She placed one in her mouth, lit it with the lighter and replaced the pack and lighter on the end table. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled a jet of smoke at the ceiling. Finally, still without looking at him, she squeezed his soft penis tentatively and asked, "You're sure you can get another hard-on?"
"Sure," he said. "Why not?"
"Well, it's not hard now."
"Hell," he said. "What do you want? Instant replay?"
She smiled. "Want to watch some movies?"
"Movies?"
"Sure," she said. "They've got closed circuit TV in this motel. Didn't you see the sign?"
"Nope."
"Well they do. Where are you from, anyway, Billy Joe?"
"Me? Hell," he drawled, "I can't rightly say. Every place and any place, really."
"And you've never seen hot movies?"
He shook his head.
Still with the cigarette dangling from her lips, Gayle Sturgeon rose from the bed and walked the few paces toward the television set.
Billy Joe's eyes never left the lush mature curves of her still slender body as she swayed across the room and flicked on the machine.
Almost instantly she was back in bed beside him as the screen was filled with images of naked couples caressing one another and enjoying all manner of sexual contact.
"Wow!" Billy Joe said, knowing it was the kind of sound he was supposed to make.
"You like that!"
"Wild!" he said. "You know," she said finally. "It's your turn. I mean, I already gave you a come. I want that big O myself."
"You want me to stick my finger in you?"
She turned to face him and he realized he had gone too far. Playing the innocent bumpkin was one thing, but he didn't want to play his game so hard that he lost out completely. "I mean," he amended. "what do you want me to do first?"
They were both looking at the television screen now. It showed a close up of a woman greedily sucking on the hard shaft of an erect penis. The picture changed and they watched a man mount a woman from the rear.
"You know what I want," her voice was hard. "I want you to fuck me and make me climb right to the end of nowhere. I want you to get hard and just fuck me like there's no tomorrow!"
Billy Joe watched the television screen and felt the easy yet demanding pressure of her hand on his masculinity. Stimulated by her lips against his ear, by the visions before him and by the hot warmth of her erect nipples against his body, his member grew again to hard and long proportions.
But still he let her be the leader. Her hand was on him and when she felt his rigid strength and turgid manhood ready to do her service, she punched her cigarette out and rolled on her back. She spread her legs wide for his entrance.
He knelt between her wet and wanting thighs, her hand still held his member.
"Oh, Jesus, come on!" she said. "I've got to have it, Billy Joe. I've got to have your cock in me."
She pulled him down toward her, but he resisted slightly so that it was an agony of time before he felt the hot eager wetness of her spread lips of love on the head of his member. He waited there for another long moment throbbing his penis against her warm wet flesh for an eternity before, in one long and almost brutal thrust, he slammed the total length of his shaft deep into her cauldron of love.
"Oh, God!" she cried out. It was almost as if she were in agony. "Oh, yes, fuck me! Fuck me!"
Ever since he had been almost a little boy, Billy Joe had been good and obeying orders. Now, his early training helped him. He could feel the soft pressure of her clitoris on top of his hard shaft and he rubbed against it as he thrust deeply within her and withdrew almost to the point of pulling entirely out of her craving flesh.
As he thrust silently into her and withdrew, he pressed his chest against her still firm breasts, breathed deeply into her ears and heard and felt her gasps of pleasure as her legs twined around his hips and her own hips thrashed in wild abandon against his groin.
"Oh, yes," she cried again and again. "Oh fuck! I love your cock, Billy. I love ... I...."
The words trailed off into a half-scream, half-gasp. He felt the spasming of her insides, the gasped release of her breath and knew she was having her release. Still, it would not be enough for him. He wanted more of her and even more.
"Oh, God," she gasped. "I'm coming, Billy. I'm coming...."
He didn't slow his rhythm of thrust and withdraw. He continued to slam his flesh into her and pull it out with rapid, almost cruel abandon.
Even when she relaxed under him, when he knew she was totally spent and saturated with the pleasure of her release, he continued to thrust.
"No," she gasped weakly. "No, Billy, I can't again. I...."
He thrust deeply, rubbed the top of his member against her tender clitoris and whispered into her ear.
"Come on, honey. Come on again. One more time, honey."
"Oh, no ... please?" she gasped. "Please no...."
Then there was a ticking response to her hips. He knew her nerves, deadened by exquisite pleasure, were reviving again. Yet still she gasped. "No ... please.., don't ... stop...."
Then her breath came in shorter gasps and it was, "Please, don't stop, Billy. Billy, fuck me, Billy! Don't stop. Oh, Jesus, Billy. I'm coming again! I'm coming again!"
This time, he was almost bored with it and with her. This time, as he brought her to the peaks of abandoned release, he decided to join her. She thrashed against him slamming her hips hard against his own as she cried out.
He thrust deeply inside her, felt the floodgates of his own release break within him and, clawing desperate fingers into the soft flesh of her buttocks, pulled her tightly to him so that he was planted as deeply as he could possibly be inside the hot channel of her abandoned flesh when he released the molten jet of his semen into her eagerly receptive body.
Her screams stopped. The room was silent except for the faint sound of bongo drums on the closed circuit television. They lay like dead people for almost three minutes before he pulled out of her wet flesh and rolled to his side.
She stared at the ceiling, her breasts heaving up and down with the impassioned gasps of her breathing. Finally, after several more moments, she smiled slightly and turned to face him.
"Did you like your first fuck, Billy Joe?" She was almost kindly, like a teacher awarding a prize.
"How did you feel about it?" he countered.
Her eyes took on a faraway look and something of the hardness went out of her face. "You know," she said. "This may sound silly, but I'm an old woman. I'm forty-two and I'm not about to lie here and try to tell you I'm cherry. But you know something, Billy? I never felt like that, never!"
"Good, huh?"
She was still smiling. "You've got talent, boy, real talent."
"Shucks...."
"No, I mean it. Look...." She rolled over and looked intently at him. "Why not stay here? I mean, I've got a big place just outside town. You could act like something like a hired hand. I could teach you a lot. You know hire you out and all...."
This was the time, he knew. It always came and it was always something like this. He'd give them a little pleasure while they were thinking they were teaching him and then they'd start the pitch of the job offer or the shack up. He'd have to go into his routine and it was always the same. His mother was dying and he had to move on to get to her before she went to glory. He had no time to stop to take a job or to learn about life from a wonderful woman willing to teach him. He had to get to his ma any way he could and it would be difficult, especially since he had no money.
"No money?" she echoed. "None at all?"
"Well, I didn't mean that. 'Course I've got seven bucks left, but hell, between here and Charlottesburg...."
"Oh, you poor boy." She rose from the bed and reached for her purse. "I can't let you go on like that. Hitchhiking, never knowing how you'll get a ride or what you can eat. Here." She pulled her hand from the purse and thrust three twenties and a ten into his palm.
"Shucks," he said. "I couldn't ... I mean...."
She leaned toward him. "What are friends for? I mean, you've made me happy--very happy, if only for a few moments and I ... well, I'll always know that I was your first ... The woman who taught you and maybe helped you on your way a little bit."
"Gosh. I...."
She pressed an uplifted finger to his lips to silence him, then rolled from the bed and started to get dressed. No more than fifteen minutes later, they were both dressed and outside the room.
The closed circuit television was still on as they slipped into her car. She had promised to drive him to the western edge of town.
About three miles outside the town limits she pulled to the side and opened the door.
"Thanks," he said simply.
She looked at him a long time. "No," she finally said. "I want to thank you. It was my luck that I picked you up back by Nelson's Cross. I don't usually do that, but now, you've given me something and I hope.., maybe I've given you something."
She started to turn back to the wheel, but turned again to look at him. "Billy Joe?" she said.
"Yeah."
"You've got a lot of time ahead of you. There'll be other women...."
"I...."
"No, seriously. Do me one favor, will you?"
"Sure."
"Remember me," she said. "Remember I was your first...."
"I--"
Before he could close the car's door, she had put the machine in gear and swung it in a tight U-turn to head back to town.
He looked after the receding car until it was a moving dot on an empty and lonely highway.
"First," he said aloud to the empty spring air. "You dumb cunt. The only time I'll think of you is when someone jacks me off."
He thrust his hands into his jeans' pockets and shuffled west along the black ribbon of road. His fingers touched the crisp paper reassurance of the seventy dollars she had given him. He began to whistle.
CHAPTER TWO
By evening he had received three rides and was about fifty miles closer to wherever he might wind up than he had been in the motel room with Gayle Sturgeon. He found himself in one of those small one-street towns that extend for several hundred yards along the southern and midwestern roads of the nation.
It was almost twilight when his last ride stopped, let him out and turned off the highway onto a side road apparently leading to nowhere.
Billy Joe Whyley wanted a bed for the night and he was pretty sure he could use his usual charm and an old routine to get one here. He found a gas station with a coffee shop next door, went inside, ordered a cup of hot chocolate and asked the fat girl behind the counter if she could tell him where the widow James lived.
"Widow James?" The girl looked at him with vacuous eyes. "Ain't no widow James in town. Only two widows here anyways. Old Mrs. Carlson and the Bryant woman."
He pursed his lips. "About forty or forty-five years old. I was told she lived here."
"Sounds like Cybil Bryant," the girl said. "Lost her old man in Vietnam. Come back here last year 'cause she was born here."
As Billy Joe finished his chocolate, he got directions to the big house occupied by Cybil Bryant and her seven cats. It was west of town, several hundred yards north of the main street.
The woman who opened the door looked older than her thirty-eight years. She had obviously done without sufficient sleep for some time. There were lines of worry about her face and bags under her hazel eyes. Still she was remarkably beautiful and well formed.
Billy Joe noted that she had large breasts and that there was probably nothing between their smooth flesh and the material of her sloppy housecoat. This, he knew, was the place he would spend the night and where he himself would enjoy losing some sleep.
"I'm Billy Joe Whyley," he drawled at the door. "I was passing through, Ma'am, and I wondered if I could do some chores for you to earn a bite to eat."
She let her eyes roam from his freckled face over his well formed slender body to his hips. Her glance stopped at the material of his jeans bunched tightly at his groin, but only for a second before she lifted her lids, to look again directly into his eyes.
"You poor boy," she said. "Come in."
Within minutes he was seated at her kitchen table shoveling great forks full of meat and potatoes into his mouth, as she, sitting opposite him, her robe falling slightly open to reveal the firm flesh of large breasts, let her eyes roll over his youthful form.
"You haven't eaten for a long time," she said.
He grunted.
"It's terrible to go without," she said.
"Yeah." He lifted another fork full of meat to his mouth.
"I've gone without, too." She cast her eyes down in a gesture which was probably meant to look coy, but which struck him as nothing more or less than ridiculous.
"Food?" he said. "Here, there's plenty. Why not eat?" Sometimes, playing the role of an innocent jerk bothered him. It bothered him now. She was actually putting herself on the platter for him and he had fallen into his old boring pattern.
"My husband died in Vietnam," she said. "It's not right for a woman--a young woman with a woman's wants and desires--to go through life alone."
"Must be tough," he said.
"You going to be in town long?" she asked.
"Just passing through," he told her. "Got to get through to Charlottesburg as soon as I can."
"Anybody see you come up here?"
"Nope." He kept his eyes on the plate before him. If he had been a writer, he could have placed her next words in her mouth. It had happened so many times before.
"Then, then ... nobody in town knows you're here."
"Nope."
"Billy, isn't it?"
"Billy Joe. Billy Joe Whyley."
She leaned forward over the table. "I need help, Billy Joe. I'm a lonely woman way out here. I wonder ... I mean ... it's awfully hard for me to talk about something like this. I mean, since Ed died it's been...."
He was sick of playing the learning innocent. He'd done that earlier in the day. Now he wanted to reverse the tables and take a masculine, aggressive hand.
"I know, ma'am," he said. "Sleeping alone's not right."
She shook her head.
"A woman needs attention, Ma'am. I understand that." He wolfed another huge mouthful of steak and looked up to her while he chewed it. "Bet you ain't got nothin' on under that robe."
She shook her head.
"Been a long time since you been touched, ain't it?"
He could see the little rippled shiver of desire scurry through her like an autumn zephyr through fragile leaves. She stared back at him and her lips opened. No sound came from her mouth, but she nodded her head.
"How long's it been since a man touched you, ma am? I mean since you felt a man's hands on your body, playing and feeling and pulling you right up tight against him?"
Like an explosion she jumped to her feet, the chair in which she had been sitting fell over backwards and the robe almost flew open to expose her large breasts. She pulled it together tight to her chin.
"Don't!" she gasped as she took a pace away from him. "Don't talk like that!"
"Like what, ma'am?"
"I can't stand it. I can't go another day...."
Slowly he pushed the empty plate away from him and rose. He stood still for a moment, then took a pace toward her. "Maybe I could help you," he said.
"You ... you're just a boy."
He took another pace toward her. "Yeah, but I'm the nearest thing to a man right here and now."
"Oh, my God," she gasped. "What am I doing?"
He took the last pace toward her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Doing, Ma'am?" he said innocently. "Why you're doing the greatest thing you can. You are going to have the best damned lovin' you've ever had."
"Oh God," she gasped again. Then her lips were hot and wet against his, opening totally to give him access to a warm tongue that darted into his mouth demanding, exploring, desperately wanting.
Her robe fell open and her naked flesh was against his shirt as her hands tore at the buttons of his clothing. Her lips still pressed and churned against his as she grunted like an animal in the throes of a desperate heat. He could feel the wet fluid of her eager crotch against his jeans and realized without looking at her that she had worn absolutely nothing under her robe.
His hands cupped the warm firm flesh of her breasts, exploring, feeling the firm hard and erect nipples that had been literally jabbing his chest as if actually trying to puncture the material of his shirt in order to contact his flesh beneath.
He pulled his lips from hers. "Where's the bedroom?" he asked.
"Forget that!" she was gasping now. "I can't wait. It's been forever. Oh Jesus! Do it here. Oh Ed ... Ed ... Give it to me now!"
He didn't care what she called him. It meant nothing to him that she was half blind with desire and was thinking of a dead man years and miles away. All he cared about was what he was going to get out of the evening. He'd have her round firm and slightly plump body in any way he wanted and he'd get what he wanted to eat plus she'd probably be so grateful, she'd give him some money on top of the deal.
They were all the same. This one would be just like that one who had picked him up in the morning and paid for the motel room.
He eased her to the linoleum of the kitchen floor and started to lick her big breasts as he fumbled with his belt and the zipper of his jeans.
"Oh, God, Ed," she kept gasping. "Give it to me. Give me my cock."
He had thought maybe to tease her for a little while, maybe to play with her breasts, then kiss her belly or thighs. Maybe even run his tongue into the hot, moist folds of her craving sexual parts, but she was so demanding he decided to get right to the main attraction first and do whatever playing around he had in mind later. Besides, the kitchen floor wasn't the softest or the most romantic place he could think up. But, he realized as he tugged his jeans down his legs, it wouldn't be his bottom on the linoleum but hers. If she wanted loving that bad, he sure as hell wasn't going to deny it to her.
He tossed his jeans beside them and pulled her right hand to him so she could feel the hard length of his manhood.
She grasped him then squeezed tightly. "Oh!" she gasped. "Oh!"
Then she pulled him almost violently toward her. "Put it in me," she cried. It was almost as if her excitement had made her completely lose control of her faculties. She was almost totally crazed with her desire. She had no concept of anything except the fact that she wanted her dead husband alive again and his manhood inside her body.
"Shove it in me, Ed," she gasped, "shove it way up in me so I can feel it split me apart."
Billy Joe rolled on top of her, placed the end of his penis into the mouth of the hot pool of her wanting and let himself fall into the molten volcano of her passion.
"Oh, Ed...." Her eyes rolled. Her thighs spread wide and her hips arched up to receive his thrust. He could feel the soles of her feet dangling and flapping against his buttocks and her fingernails clawing the flesh of his back. Still she was gasping about her "Ed" and moaning in ecstasy.
Billy Joe Whyley had had a lot of women since his first experience but never in all his short life had he felt himself inside one who was so eager for instant satisfaction--so near crazed by pure physical wanting.
He thrust his manhood deep into her, withdrew it slightly and then thrust again. He did this no more than three times before he heard her breath begin to come in shorter and more impassioned gasps. Her hips were ticking hard and fast against him now. Her eyes were tightly shut and her mouth open and she was gasping the name "Ed" almost as if she were a sergeant shouting cadence.
He thrust.
"Yes ... Ed...."
He withdrew.
"Oh ... Ed...."
He thrust.
And then he felt the first ultimate spasm of her beginning release. Her hips slammed hard against him; her ankles locked behind his back and her fingers clawed even more desperately into his back as she spasmed in perfect and total release under him thrashing, twisting, moaning and writhing on the hard linoleum of the kitchen floor and pulling his penis deeper and harder inside her almost boiling flesh.
Her moans now were like those of a wounded animal. Her twisting flesh seemed at once to be struggling to fee itself from his embrace and to lock itself permanently and totally against his own.
He controlled his own release; there would be time for that later. They had the whole night for him to satisfy his needs and give her the kind of pleasure he was pretty sure Ed probably knew nothing about.
He moved two or three more times within her, waited as her writhings and thrashings calmed slowly, until she was lying panting and spent on the kitchen floor, her breathing still heavy but regular and more relaxed.
He touched one huge breast with his fingertips and felt the quiver of sensation ripple through her lush body. He kissed her right ear and felt another, different spasm ripple through her. Finally he propped himself on one elbow and waited until she opened her eyes.
"Oh," she finally said when they fluttered open and she blinked twice looking up to his face. "Oh, mercy. You must think I'm terrible."
"I thought you were pretty good," he said. "I don't mean that. I mean a lady's not supposed to -"
He reached for his jeans and underdrawers and slipped one leg through both at once. "Hell," he drawled. "There ain't no ladies in bedrooms. Or on kitchen floors either."
"I feel just terrible," she said. She sat up and pulled the robe around her nakedness.
He looked at her for a long time before he spoke. "Look, lady," he said. "Let's stop the bullshit. It kills half the fun. You wanted to have a big come and you got it. You were hotter than a half fucked robin in a forest fire and you got what you was after. Me? Hell, you gave me a good meal, but I'd like to get something for my hots too. I mean you come off so damned fast I hardly got my joint wet. Now, come on, what say we go on up to your bedroom and spend a real fun evening. Bet we could show each other just lots of good times."
She stared at him. "Promise me something?" she said at length.
"Sure. What?"
"Well, it's a small town, you know. People talk. Just don't let anyone know you're here."
"Hell, honey...." he lifted the pleasant weight of one breast in the palm of his right hand and let his thumb caress the still erect red flesh of the nipple. "... I'm a stranger in town. Nobody here knows nothing about me at all."
"You sure?"
"Swear to god, Honey. Now, would I lie to you?"
She almost jumped to her feet and pulled him up after her. He had only one leg in his jeans, but she apparently didn't care. She pulled him behind her out of the huge kitchen through what might have once been a dining room but now was something of a combination sewing room and storage bin. Then they were climbing the stairs. A moment later she pushed him down on his back in the huge four poster bed that dominated what was obviously the house's master bedroom.
With fingers as swift as a hummingbird's wings she scurried open the buttons of his shirt and pulled his one leg free of his jeans.
"Oh, it's been so long," she said as she stood beside the bed looking down at his naked, muscular form. "You just don't know what it's like for a woman to go without a man for so long. It makes me go sort of half crazy. I want everything at once."
He looked up to her. She slipped out of the robe and let it fall beside the bed. He let his eyes feast on her nakedness. She was a woman built solidly but softly. Her hips were wide and padded without being fat and her breasts, although large, were still upthrust. Her waist was almost tiny and the hair on her venus mound was like a silken arrow pointing to perfectly rounded thighs and long, slender legs that could have competed with those of any actress or model.
"Hell," he said as he looked up to her. "You can have anything you want. You just make up for all the lost time you like, ma'am. It's my pleasure."
She was staring at his groin now as if hypnotized by his manhood. From where he lay she seemed actually unable to tear her eyes away from his member. Like a woman in a trance she leaned over the bed and grasped it, first in one hand then in both. She sat down on the bed beside him still staring at his now thickening penis.
"Oh," she said as she leaned over him. "Oh, you're beautiful. You're a beautiful, beautiful man."
Gently he lifted one hand, laced his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her full lips down to him.
She pushed tentatively against him. Her lips formed the word "No," but sound did not issue from her mouth.
He increased the pressure of his hand until her lips were no more than two inches from the tip of his now totally erect member.
She was still grasping it in both her hands, squeezing the turgid flesh in a grip that was almost painful. Her eyes were still clouded by what looked like a hypnotic glaze. She was staring at the head of his penis mere centimeters in front of her, resisting his pressure, yet compelled to go on.
"Suck it," he told her. "Take it right in your mouth and lick it and taste it in you. You can suck it right off if you want to and get a good hot taste of that jizz. Come on, honey, suck it right off."
The words apparently did more for her than the pressure of his hand, for she fairly dove down on him and pulled almost the full length of his manhood deep into her mouth as she greedily sucked and licked the sensitive flesh.
She grunted as her tongue rolled around and around the head of his member. He could hear her smacking and swallowing as her fingers played with the tender sack of his testicles. He knew his words contributed to her own excitement so he kept talking as she made little unintelligible guttural sounds while licking his member.
"That's it, honey," he drawled. "Suck it like that. Lick it and then taste it. Pull it right in deep. Just like that...."
She moved her body so that he could fondle her swaying breasts--feel the soft smoothness of their firm flesh and the hard knobs of their nipples swaying over him.
"You like your titties felt, don't you?" he said.
She grunted approval as she sucked him even deeper into her hot and eager mouth.
"Bet you'd like me to fiddle with your cooze too, wouldn't you?"
She almost gagged nodding her approval as she sucked desperately on his penis and maneuvered her body so he could have full and free access to her private parts. She was over him now head down. Her legs straddling his chest. Her sexual parts were over his mouth and he reached up to pull her hips to his face.
His tongue slid into a hot cauldron of womanly desire, licked out and felt the firm flesh of her already twitching clitoris and flicked it almost viciously.
She grunted and opened her mouth slightly so the rush of cool air countered the heat of her tongue and lips on his member.
He extended his tongue even deeper into her craving flesh, tasted the juices of her passion and sucked eagerly on the erectile tissue of her clitoris.
And again he felt her slight snap--the first beginning of another total release beginning to surge within her. Her lips lay almost idle on his penis as her hips slammed against his mouth. He knew she was blinded to any but her own coming release.
He pushed her sideways, then down on the bed so that he was over her, stabbing his tongue into her, sucking her clitoris with his puckered lips, listening to her pant and groan and then finally thinking she might be attempting to beat him to death with her hips as she cried out and writhed against his mouth and jaw.
He refused to leave her. His fingers pulled the firm flesh of her buttocks tight to him. His tongue licked and kissed and stroked her spasming flesh until she finally calmed, twitching only occasionally, gasping. "Oh, God ... Oh, God...." again and again.
It was over and he was still painfully erect, but he had more important things to consider than his own purely physical release. This was his way of life, his business and he was already a professional.
He waited several long minutes until her breathing became regular again, until her eyes opened and her thick and sensual lips parted in a slight smile. In the dim light of the huge bedroom, it seemed the lines of worry had vanished from her face and, along with them, the bags under her hazel eyes.
"You like that?" he asked.
"Oh, Jesus," she sighed. "It was like I couldn't stop coming. It was like you were eating up something way inside me and making me come all apart."
"How many times d'you want to come?" he asked.
She turned to face him, a puzzled look on her still beautiful face. "What do you mean by that?"
"Just what I said. You come off on the kitchen floor and then again up here when I ate your cunt. How many more do you want? You can come all night if you like."
She smiled. "I'd die," she said. "You're almost making me go half-crazy like it is."
His fingers were stroking the smooth flesh of her abdomen now, snaking out to play through the dank tuft of pubic hair and to explore the still open, wet cavern of love there. He slipped one into the hot folds of her satiated flesh, let it caress the knob of her clitoris and felt the ripple of nervous tingle that swept over her body.
"Oh, Jesus," she said. "Don't make me come again. My head'll come off."
"What's wrong with that?" He stroked her wet inner flesh tenderly, yet with a demand that brought her, in one movement, from satiation to anticipation.
"I'll go crazy, Ed. I'll go off my head." He continued to stroke her with his gentle finger, rubbing gently under her clitoris, then up. Letting the knob of her sexual nerve play over the tip of his finger as he caressed the sides, the top and then eased his finger down again to flick the underside, bringing her, he knew, ever closer to a new and more thorough arousal.
"Go crazy," he told her. "Let your head come off. Go on, honey. Come off any way you like. Been a long time, honey. Just let it all go. Let it all go."
"Oh, Jesus, Ed. I can't stop it. I'm coming again. I'm ... Oh ... Ed...."
He caressed her with his finger waiting as her orgasm built within her, feeling the spasms of her inner flesh, almost counting the expansions and contractions of nerve-laced labia.
Exhausted now, she moved her hips against the rumpled bed-clothes, pressed them against his finger as it moved within her.
Then suddenly, he pulled his finger away from her when she was in mid-release.
"Oh, no," she gasped.
"Oh yes, baby. This time it's mine."
She was still orgasming when he rolled on top of her, thrust the hard length of his manhood into her and felt the spasms of her constricting flesh around his pulsating penis.
He brought her from the middle of one release to the beginning of another as he thrust hard and brutally again and again into her hot and eager flesh.
"Ed.... Ed ... Ed!" she gasped as she spasmed again and again. "I can't stop ... I'm coming apart, Ed ... I'm coming apart...."
Billy Joe thrust harder and faster, harder and faster, moving his muscular hips like a thrashing machine, plowing into the churning flesh under him until he could feel the first snap of his own release.
Just before he ejaculated into her he told her:
"Here I come, honey, right in your old snatch. Feel that, baby. Feel that!"
She cried out with the hot surge of pleasure his semen gave her and he grunted in satisfaction, feeling the sweet release of sexual desire from his loins.
In the middle of the ejaculation, a spark of sanity returned to her. She opened her eyes wide and stared at him.
"God," she gasped. "You're not Ed."
He grunted.
"Oh, God!" she gasped again. "I don't care. Just come in me, come in me."
He thrust hard one more time and the last of his juices spurted into the hot welcoming cauldron of her flesh.
Then contented, they curled in each other's arms. Appeased, satiated, totally released and satisfied, they slept almost as dreamlessly and innocently as a mother and child.
CHAPTER THREE
Something of the dream came back to him in the morning. It was the old, old memory of half-knowledge, half-understanding that had been with him for so many years and which seemed always to be lurking in that vague area of semi consciousness between wakefulness and sleep.
He was asleep--or was he dreaming of sleep? Perhaps he was waking while remembering another time. It was vague, misty, dark and unclear. But he was not afraid. He was safe, encompassed in warmth as thorough and wonderful as a mother's womb. Life was wet, pink velvet and he was being washed in a glory of sensual perfection.
Gradually a more total consciousness began to flow over him and he knew he was no longer dreaming. The sensation around his masculine organ was all encompassing. He knew what was happening, but he wanted to savor every thrill, every tingling and perfect sensation to the utmost, but in the dream--not the reality.
There was something about the reality of it that frightened him--that haunted some locked chamber of his inner mind.
He knew that Cybil Bryant had awakened before he. He knew she had eased herself gently down in the big bed and was slowly, luxuriantly bringing his penis to a state of rigid erection with her mouth. The sensation was perfect--a lazy totality of warm and easy thrill that flowed from his groin like a wet light to wake and warm and thrill every nerve of his body.
Still, there was something about it that wasn't all right. There was something about the very perfection of the sensations he was receiving which made him want to fall back into a state of total sleep--of unconscious, unknowing.
He was asleep, he told himself. He was completely and totally asleep and he was completely and totally safe. It was a wonderful dream that was sending the licking wet sensations rippling along his now hard penis through the nerves of his body and legs to well over him and through him surging with each movement of her tongue and lips ever closer to a total and violent release.
He lay contented in the bed. He was asleep, he kept telling himself. He refused to move even as he felt the total movements of her head increase in rapidity of rhythm.
This was the way it should be. he thought. This was the real perfection of sex. What could ever be greater than being awakened in the morning with a woman's hot, loving mouth sucking on him, licking him greedily, yet gently trying to make her first taste of the day that of his manhood erupting into her mouth and down her throat?
Although he tried again and again to fall back to a soft and blissful sleep, the increasing intensity of the sensations that were surging through him could not be denied. He was being awakened in a sea of total sensuousness and aroused in a way he could not deny.
Finally, he could not help himself. Although he did not open his eyes, his hips began to move involuntarily.
She responded to the slow, rhythmic tic of his pelvis with a gentle caress of his scrotum and loving squeeze of his testicles and a sensuous rubbing of palm and fingers over his chest and stomach.
He placed his hands on her head, ran trembling fingers through her soft hair and over the smooth flesh of her cheeks. Still with his eyes closed he felt her cheeks and lips sucking hard on his member and in an almost smug satisfaction relaxed in the knowledge that nothing--nothing in the entire world--would ever feel better than waking up like this with his shaft in a woman's mouth, with the woman eagerly licking and sucking on him in order to introduce him to the day on the tidal waves of his own ejaculation.
But he wanted to savor the sensations she was giving him. One part wanted to ejaculate instantly and reach the pinnacle of impossible pleasure while another wanted to lay back like a fat and contented cat letting each stroke of her tongue, each movement of her lips and mouth etch itself with soft abandon into the web of his nervous system.
He could not control his hips any longer. Now they were moving in a faster, more determined rhythm which alternately thrust his penis deep into the hot cavern of her mouth and withdrew it slightly only to thrust again.
From a dim far away he seemed to hear her moans and grunts of pure animal satisfaction as she tightened the grip of her lips on him and sucked greedily, eagerly--as if intent on nothing so much as swallowing his entire shaft.
Long before it actually came, he felt his body building to an ultimate release. It was the faint snapping of one pleasure-sated nerve here and the release of a tingling cell there. Unlike the sudden rush of sexual pleasure he had experienced with her the night before, this was a building of impossible and unending ecstasy from the very depths of every fiber of his being to the very pinnacle of his existence. It began at his toes and fingertips and swelled easily and gradually through him like some lazy but totally engulfing tidal wave which was destined to inundate everything in its path.
It swelled through his legs and along his chest and shoulders, it surged over his stomach and seemed to grasp his testicles in an oiled vice of compassionate flesh. Then and only then was there the final ultimate snap as of a great wire drawn overtaut. Like a cable made of many strands, he finally twanged apart one thread of his karma at a time until the cable was ultimately severed and yet still spasming again and again.
He felt as if he were ejaculating from the very soles of his feet--as if his very life's fluids were being drained totally from him. He could not stop coming and it seemed that she could not stop sucking, eagerly gulping and swallowing each drop of his semen into her hot and greedy mouth.
Again and again it seemed he spurted forth in her, each time clawing gentle fingers of release over every fiber of his nervous system. He could not stop himself. He did not want to stop himself.
It was a dream, he knew, only a dream. Yet it was real too, and because he neither knew nor cared, he swirled in a pink cosmos of pure physical ecstasy that continued so long he felt sure he would be a part of it and it a part of him forever and always.
Even after his spasms of release calmed their intensity and his tics of pelvis came at less frequent intervals, she continued to pull his penis into her mouth, to suck on its still hard flesh and to swallow the last few precious drops of his manhood dripping into her.
He lay back on the bed, eyes closed, exhausted, satiated and tried to regain the sleep from which he had been so gently yet so greedily pulled.
No--he was awake but still with his eyes closed. He could never return.
And he didn't know if he wanted to return or not. There was something in the half-dream half-reality that he didn't want to see no matter how much pleasure it brought him. There was something in it that was perfect and yet, strangely wrong and laden with feelings of fear and guilt. In the dream world he was being eaten and devoured while at the same time being made to enjoy it. Suddenly, he was very frightened. He was a little boy again in a dark room and he was terribly, terribly scared....
He opened his eyes.
It was already morning. The sun's brilliant light was flooding into the large room through huge uncurtained windows. Cybil still lay on top of him, his penis still in her mouth, her contented breathing cooling the satiated flesh of his groin.
He was safe. Life was real and the dream was gone. He stroked her tousled hair with his hand and sighed.
"Damn, that was good," he said. "I thought I'd never stop coming. You sucked me right out from the heels--right out from the heels."
She sighed, and smiled, but still refused to release him for a moment longer until she had pulled his penis as deeply as she possibly could into her impossibly hot mouth, run her tongue twice around every oversensitive nerve studded along its length and then pulled slightly back. When she and his flesh finally parted, the sound was like the cork on a very fine, very expensive magnum of champagne being delicately and professionally eased out by a skilled European waiter.
Slowly she eased upward on the bed until she was lying on her side facing him. "You liked that?" she asked.
"Sure did."
"Me, too," she sighed. "I could suck on you all day long."
"Be my guest."
They both chuckled together as, gently, he reached out to stroke the flesh of one huge breast.
She shuddered slightly with the surge of tingling pleasure his fingers sent through her.
"Oh, Christ," she gasped. "When you touch me, I like to fall apart. You don't know how long it's been."
"How long?" he said. His fingers were playing on the bare flesh of her breasts. He could see the nipple rising like a pink finger to meet his touch.
"Almost forever. Ed shipped out over almost two years ago. Then when I got the news he'd been killed, I didn't know what to do. This place was the only real home I'd ever known. The house was rented to some tenant farmers, but when the old lady died her husband decided to get a job over to Whyattesville. This is where I grew up so I came back."
"You mean you haven't got yourself fucked in two years?"
She stared at him directly with level eves. "I don't care if you believe me or not. Why should I? Hell, it's no skin off my ass. But it's true. You came through the town, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Well, you can see if you blink your eyes walking along the highway, you'll miss it completely."
"It's no big city," he conceded.
"Hell, it's a small, small town. Sure I grew up here and it's my home and it's something safe for me, but I think it's even smaller than when I was a girl. You know what small towns are like. People would talk about anything."
"Yeah, I know." "You know what would happen if I was fucking with one of the local boys?"
"Nope."
"God," she said, "I hate to think about it. They'd probably tar and feather me--"
"Bullshit!"
"You don't think so, but it's true. You know what happened here last year?"
"Nope."
"They caught an old man, fellah in his sixties, fucking some nigger girl over near the Barrow place. They damned near killed him."
He was playing almost absently with her breast, only half listening to her words, he was concentrating on the still firm flesh and the perfect conformation of the erect nipple.
"No shit?" he said.
"It's true, I swear."
"What else is true?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I mean, you dig sucking cock in the morning. That's true, isn't it?"
She shivered and pressed her breast tighter against his hand. "You know it."
"And you like getting yourself fucked pretty good...."
She sighed.
"And you don't like waiting a long time between getting your pussy serviced."
She shook her head.
"Well," he drawled. "What else?"
"Isn't that enough?" She shut her eyes as though in contented embarrassment and rolled on her back so he could have easy access to her body.
He teased her breasts for a long moment before leaning over her and flicking each nipple with his tongue.
"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus...."
"Like it?"
"Oh, Christ! You know I like it."
He ran his tongue gently over her right nipple, pulled its erectile flesh between his lips and sucked on it gently for a moment before letting it go again.
"What else do you like?"
"Oh ... "she sighed contentedly. "I like everything ... everything...."
"Tell me," he insisted as his fingers inched downward over the flesh of her abdomen and stopped at the first silken strands of hair protecting her mound of love.
"Anything," she insisted. "Do anything. Anything you want...."
"Two years must be a long time," he teased. "You must have got your kicks some way."
"Oh...."
"Bet you did a lot of finger fucking, didn't you?"
"I ... "
"Maybe you even used one of those fancy French things...."
"Or a hot dog or a carrot or something?"
"Don't ... I...."
He slid his fingers through the soft tangle of pubic hair until his second digit was resting at the very top of her mouth of love. Below his own flesh, he could feel the wet parting of her own as her eager vaginal lips spread and dampened themselves in anticipation of sensual pleasures to come.
"Gets you hot, don't it?" he said.
"I--"
"You get all wet and open when I talk about playing with yourself, don't you?"
"No ... I...."
"Bet you were almost rubbing the hair off before I came by, weren't you?"
"I--"
He was getting impatient now. He wanted her to talk about her desires and needs and pleasures. He pulled his hand away from her and almost roughly grabbed her by the shoulders.
She opened her eyes. Their expression was one of doubt, wonderment and even a small spark of fear.
"What? What is it?"
"Talk to me," he insisted. "I want to hear. Tell me what makes you hot. Tell me how you did it to yourself when you didn't have a man around."
"I don't want to...." She turned away from him. "I don't like to talk like that...."
"But you like to grab my cock and suck on it and feel it all hot and hard way up inside your pussy, don't you? You like that, don't you? Don't you!"
"Oh, please. I...."
"Tell me. Tell me how you did yourself!"
She turned back so she was facing him again. "You really mean it, don't you?"
"Yeah. Talk sexy to me and I'll get hard again and do whatever you want."
"And you promise you won't tell--won't say a word to anyone?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"Okay, you do me like that...." she pulled his hand down to her groin again, " ... and I'll tell you a secret."
He played his second finger easily against the wet flesh of her widely spread vaginal lips, slipping easily between their folds until he could feel the soft-hard knob of clitoris he was searching for. As he stroked on it, teased it and played with it, she began to talk.
"Like I said, it's a small town and folks around here talk. I got a little money what with the rent from the farm and Ed's widow's pensions. Least-ways I got enough to hire help now and then."
He pulled his finger away. "That's not sexy" he said. "Tell me how you got your ashes hauled without no man around."
"I'm telling you. I made it with the cleaning girl."
"You a dyke?" he asked almost casually.
"No, only I had to have it. I've never been any good at playing with myself. It's not right. It could hurt your health and all. Besides the girl was colored. Right around here she couldn't say anything. Hell, nobody'd believe her."
"What'd you do?" he insisted.
"You know--"
"No, I don't. Tell me."
"Oh, nothing much. You know, feel each other's titties and sort of stroke the nipples and all--"
"That's all?"
"Sort of...."
"You mean you and this girl were playing around with one another and you didn't do anything more than feel up your titties. Hell, lady, I can't go that."
"It's true," she insisted.
"Oh, I believe it's true," he told her. "Only it sure as hell isn't the whole truth, is it?"
"Well...."
"Just like I thought. Hell, I'll bet you let that nigger gal suck on your tits all you could stand, didn't you?"
"I--"
"Didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And then when you got so hot you thought you were going to burn right up what did you do then, huh?"
"Nothing. I--"
"Bullshit! You don't think I know what you did. You pushed her head right on down to your little honey pot and told her to eat you like no tomorrow. You did that, didn't you, huh?"
"Yes. Yes."
"Bet that felt good, didn't it?"
"There were no men. I couldn't stand it. Believe me, Billy, I couldn't stand it...." She turned away from him and started to sob.
"Hell," he said gently, "I don't care. It don't matter to me."
She turned back to him and sniffed. "It doesn't?"
"Hell no. I sort of figured you liked your box eaten."
"Well...."
"I just wanted you to tell me, that's all."
"You mean that, don't you?"
"Sure. That's what I was saying."
"I don't understand you at all, Billy."
"You don't have to understand. Just feel good. Talk sexy to me, tell me what it feels like when some black gal goes down on you and eats you out."
"Oh, Jesus, Billy Joe, it was good. It was real good. Not like a man, but I couldn't help myself. She'd come over every Wednesday and dust a little and then I just couldn't help myself. I suppose you might say she seduced me and all, but I wanted it too. In the beginning she just told me she didn't like men at all, that they were always getting drunk and beating up on their women folk and that women were much safer and nicer. She told me she'd had a lot of women and then ... then ... "
"Yeah?"
"Then I just asked her. I told her about Ed being killed, only she knew that. I told her I hadn't had any loving for so long I thought my insides had dried up like alum and after that we just made it every Wednesday."
"Tell me what it felt like."
"Oh, Jesus, Billy Joe. It felt good. Not like a man, but real good. I came off every time. She knew right where everything was. I mean a woman understands a woman. Oh, God, Billy, do something. You're making me hot all over."
He leaned back and stared down at her. "What you want me to do?"
She stared directly at him. He smiled down at her, teasing, insinuating for a long moment before he said, "Well?"
"Oh, Billy Joe," she sighed and she lifted both palms and placed them on either side of his head. "Oh, Billy Joe Whyley, you are a strange one."
"What do you want, Ma'am?" She shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, then with an effort that was almost violent in its intensity she pulled his head down to her abdomen and almost cried out. "Oh, Billy Joe, don't you know? I want you to eat me. Suck on me and lick me. Make me come off that way, Billy Joe. I love it! I love it!"
"Keep talking, Lady," he said. "You tell me how. Just lead me along. I sure want you to feel a whole lot better with me than with the cleaning gal."
Gently he spread her labia with his thumbs so that he could see the hot moist inner flesh of her pink womanhood. Then with a slow determination that was almost maddening, he lowered his lips to her throbbing channel of passion.
His tongue darted into the hot cauldron of her flesh, tasted the sweet nectar of her passion and licked delicately against the almost hard knob of her clitoris.
As he moved within her he could hear her sighing and gasping, murmuring the word, "Yes," again and again until her hips began to tic gently against his jaw and, as she had the previous night, she forgot the reality of their action. Her mind spun into a nostalgic haze from which memory served as a sexual stimulant.
"Oh, Liza," she sighed. "Just like that, baby. Lick it just like that, Liza, honey."
He didn't care who she thought he was. He burrowed into the moist folds of her flesh sucking her over-long clitoris between his lips and flicking it gently with his tongue.
"Oh, Liza, suck it like that, baby. You're going to make me come, Liza."
His movements became more determined, more demanding. He could feel the very beginnings of release starting within her, then the sudden gasp of orgasm as she slammed against him and pulled his head tight toward her throbbing pelvis.
He continued to lick and suck on her ticking of orgasm as she slammed against him and pulled away and looked into her hazel eyes.
"Now," he said. "Tell me the truth. Which was better? Me or the black girl?"
"Oh, don't you know? Don't you know?"
"I want to hear."
"Billy, you are the best thing a widow could ask for. I never in my life felt anything like that. My head almost came off."
"You sure do like your fucking and sucking," he said.
"With you. Oh, God, Billy, I want to spend the whole day with you right in this bed."
He sat up. "Can't," he said.
"Can't! Why not?"
"I got to move on, Ma'am. Got to get to Charlottesburg."
"Charlottesburg? Why ever ... I mean ... you mean you just came in here, knocked on my door and then made love to me like that and are just walking off? You can't do that, Billy Joe. I won't let you."
"I don't want to," he lied. "Honest I don't. But my Mom ... she's dying and ... well ... "
"Oh. I didn't know. I'm sorry"
"She's been sickly for a while, but now it's sure. I've got to get to her before she goes."
"Sure, I understand."
"Wish I had a car," he said. "Hell, I got laid off a while before I heard the news. Had to start all the way from Baton Rouge with only six bucks."
"Oh, you poor guy," she sighed. "You'll need more than that. Here, let me--"
"No," he said. "I really couldn't. I mean it wouldn't be right."
An hour later, Billy Joe Whyley was one hundred and fifty dollars richer than he had been that morning. He felt free and satisfied and, in some small corner of his mind, somewhat reluctant to leave the small town. But as he walked westward along the dusty highway leading to he knew not where, he realized that, much as he had enjoyed the body of the widow Bryant, there had been something about their short and passionate affair that had brought with it a harbinger of danger. She had pointed a ghost-ridden finger directly at some shrouded guilt-ridden memory of his distant past and, joyful as was the physical sensation she had given to him that morning, he knew he was afraid to stay with her any longer than he had.
Perhaps in another way on another day, she might rip the curtains away from the secret he did not want to see. Perhaps she would reveal the horrid monstrous skeleton that lurked in the guilt-ridden shadows of his subconscious mind.
Besides, he rationalized as he walked westward, he'd been a good fellow. After all, it wasn't right for a woman to go around getting herself licked down there by cleaning girls. He'd done the widow a favor really. Hadn't she said she hadn't had any real loving for almost two years?
Again he felt the money in his jean pockets and began to whistle. The shrill happy sound carried through the hot air over the fields where sweating laborers looked up to see a handsome young man striding confidently along the highway.
CHAPTER FOUR
He had no way of knowing that his luck ran out just before noon. The Chevy pick-up looked like a thousand others--faded and covered with dirt--tattered and appearing to be held together by nothing more than white glue and a little hope mixed with spit.
As it pulled onto the gravel shoulder, he noticed the two Harley choppers in the back. There were two bearded young men in the cab. The one on the passenger side leaned out and smiled showing the absence of his two top front teeth.
"How far you going?" he said.
"Far as you like," Billy Joe answered. He started to reach for the door.
"No room up front," the toothless man said. "Hop in back with the cunt."
Billy Joe looked toward the rear of the truck but could see nothing but the tops of the two motorcycles. Just as he put his foot on the running board and started to climb over, the driver jerked the truck forward with an intensity of acceleration that nearly threw Billy Joe off again and onto the graveled shoulder of the road.
"Jesus Christ!" he called out as he managed to swing over into the back bed of the small truck. "You don't have to try to kill me, you know!"
"Don't worry about him," he heard a voice say. "Old Bo likes to shake dudes up."
He turned to face a woman about twenty-five or twenty-six years of age who had been lying between the two motorcycles. She was dressed in filthy levis and a torn and equally filthy T-shirt. It was obvious that she wore no brassiere under it to protect the soft expansive flesh of her breasts that now jiggled provocatively with the movements of the truck.
"It's okay," he managed. "I just wasn't expecting anything like that. Hell, wasn't expecting a woman in here either."
"Two."
"What?" He looked around the bed of the truck.
The woman pointed a thumb over her shoulder to what looked like a pile of rope and blankets on the left side of the truck's bed. "That over there is Sissy. She's sort of chickenshit. That's why she's called Sissy. Hey Sissy! Shake your ass, baby, we got company."
Billy Joe watched the dirty blanket move slightly and then slowly, like a butterfly emerging from a moth's cocoon, saw the top of a tousled and dirty blonde head emerge. It was followed by young but tired blue eyes, a tiny nose and lips on which what might have been lipstick was badly smeared.
"Hi," he said.
She grunted and moved her mouth in what looked like a smile before again pulling the dirty blanket over her head.
"I'm Nora," the first girl said. "Only most of the guys call me Big Mamu."
"Hi," he said again. "I'm Billy Joe Whyley. Pleased to meet you."
They rode on in silence for some time. He tried to keep his eyes away from the jiggling invitation of her lush breasts. Nora simply lay on her back looking up to the sky. Finally Billy Joe asked, "What's the trouble with your friend--I mean Sissy?"
"Her?" again Nora stabbed thumb over her right shoulder.
"Yeah. She sick or something?"
"She'll get over it," Nora said. "She's new, that's all. The guys sort of put her through an initiation last night."
"Initiation?"
"Yeah, let the whole club gang bang her. Shit, I don't know what she's so knocked out about. There weren't more than six or eight guys right after the other. Shit, that stuff last night was nothing. Why when I joined the guys I had three of them in me at once and I was jerking off another one. I'll tell you, I liked that."
Billy Joe didn't really know how to reply to the woman. Although he had had a great deal of sexual experience, his had been almost totally confined to the seduction of older women and to having them ask for his sexual services. The idea of four men being involved with one woman at the same moment was totally fantastic to him.
"Shit!" Nora said at length. "You look like you never heard of fucking before."
"Not like that."
"What the hell's the matter with that? You some sort of moral asshole or something?"
"Well, I--"
"Jesus, I could tell you stories that would curl your hair. Hell, one time I was on a chopper with Bo with nothing better to do. We was going over a bumpy road so I just unzipped him and grabbed his dork. I let the bike and the bumps jerk him off. We damned near smeared ourselves over two counties when he shot off. Bet you never been jerked off on a chopper, have you?"
"I never even been on one."
She looked at him for a long time, her eyes narrow, her expression thoughtful.
"You ain't cherry, are you?" she said finally.
"But you never got fucked in the back of a truck, now, did you?"
He looked over to her jiggling breasts. "Can't say as I have."
"Well, shit, honey. Now's your chance. Hey, Sissy, shake your ass, will you! We're going to have some fun with this dude."
Again the blonde girl struggled her head from under the blanket on the left side of the truck and looked at Nora. "Hell," she managed to say after a while. "I'm tired, Mamu. I've had enough fucking to last me for the next six months."
The lines of Nora's mouth became drawn and even harder than usual. "Don't give me any static jive, you motherfucker," she said. "You just haul your ass over here, or I'll have me a little talk with Bo when we stop."
"Hey," Billy Joe said. "I mean there's no real need for anything like this. I mean, to tell you the truth, I just got myself laid last night and this morning, too. I'm not really--"
Nora turned on him. "Listen to me, boy," she snarled. "And listen to me good. You're a good looking stud and I want your cock in me. It don't make a goddamn bit of difference whether you want it there or not. When Big Mamu wants herself fucked, why there's not going to be anybody saying no."
Billy Joe looked from her jiggling breasts to the hard and determined lines of her mouth. Finally he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of hopelessness. "Whatever you say, Ma'am," he drawled in his most servile way. "I mean who am Ito go against Big Mamu?
"You're fucking A," she told him. "You are fucking A, number one right on, right."
The truck was speeding along a straight length of highway making the scenery seem to rush past in a green and brown blur. Sissy had tossed the blanket away and was crawling around the two motorcycles toward where Nora lay in the middle of the truck. She was wearing only a pair of torn jeans, As she crawled, her large breasts swayed like twin pendulums, their big pink nipples flashing in the afternoon sun.
Nora meanwhile had unsnapped the top of her own jeans and was pulling them down over her thighs. Billy Joe couldn't help but notice that she apparently did not believe in the use of underpanties. It also occurred to him that whatever Nora had in mind was going to prove cramped and uncomfortable because of the two bicycles.
Nora finished pulling her jeans completely off her legs and then in one gesture ripped the T-shirt over her head. Her lush body was totally nude as she turned to him.
"Well," she said.
"I--"
"Come on, goddamn it, get out of them rags." Then she turned down to where Sissy was still crawling near the tailgate of the truck. "Get your ass up here, Sissy! You can do a little clit lapping while cherry boy is getting ready for action."
Sissy crawled obediently between the two motorcycles and placed her hands on Nora's widely spread thighs.
"Come on, honey," Nora said almost kindly. "Get in there and lick old Big Mamu off. Give me that old honey tongue and make my clit sing Dixie."
Billy Joe was absolutely fascinated by what he was watching through the chromium spokes of the motorcycle wheel. Nora lay on her back with her neck slightly bent so she could look down and see Sissy crawling on her hands and knees along the triangle of space between her widely spread legs.
"Come on," she kept saying. "Give it a little tongue, honey. I'm dripping for you, baby. I'm dripping all over for you!"
Billy Joe was unable to move as Sissy inched closer to the dark patch of pubic hair just before her. He watched almost in a state of catatonic shock as the blonde girl leaned slowly forward, her tongue extended and finally placed her mouth against the wet flesh of Nora's widely opened vagina.
"Yeah," Nora said. "Lick it, honey. Lick it just like that." Almost casually, she turned to Billy Joe. "Bet you like looking, don't you, boy?" She smiled. "That feels real good. She's got an educated tongue. Likes to eat pussy better even than sucking cock." Then suddenly. "Hey. What the fuck's the matter with you? Get out of your jeans, buster. I don't mean to lie here all day without getting some cock in me."
Watching the blonde woman become more eager as she licked and caressed the sexual parts of Big Mamu, Billy Joe could feel the beginnings of his own arousal. His eyes never left the two women as he slipped out of his jeans and shorts. He placed his clothes in a pile beside the motorcycle's wheel and himself began to crawl around the near machine until he looked up to see Sissy's great buttocks before him, her head down on the hips of the older woman.
The truck was swaying gently on the highway, bouncing slightly on old shock absorbers as Billy Joe reached out and touched Sissy's smooth flesh.
He let his hands slip gently over her firm belly, up under the swaying pendulums of her firm breasts. He caressed the nipples and stroked the smooth skin for a long moment as he rubbed his hips against the soft cushion of her buttocks.
Then, against his enlarging member, he felt the first hot wet surgings of her passion juices and he knew that she was enlarging to receive him deep, deep in the hot eager flesh of her womanhood.
But he was not ready to plunge himself into the eager flesh yet. He wanted to savor every second of this impossible moment for as long as he could. The bouncing of the truck, the hard lines of Nora's face ahead of him, the soft flesh of Sissy's dangling breasts over the cupped pressure of his palms were all stimulants he wanted to savor.
Nora was looking at him, almost smiling. "Shove it in her ass," she said. "She'll go wild that way. Go ahead. Shove it in her asshole!"
Billy Joe lifted himself higher. For an instant he could see through the truck's rear window. Just in a flash of impression he saw the face of Bo, the driver--a heavy-set young man with a thick, unkempt beard. His hard black eyes were staring directly at him through the truck's rear-view mirror.
Then he didn't care whether Bo saw him or not. He didn't care what Nora said as the truck bounced over the highway. He didn't care about anything as he lifted his member and found the hot, eager, open lips of Sissy's gaping womanhood wide and waiting to receive his thrust.
He pushed the total length of his manhood inside the hot cavern of the girl's wet flesh, unaware that at the exact moment of his penetration the truck angled, a full ninety degrees off the highway and was now rushing along a bumpy dirt road.
Both girls writhed under him, the truck added mechanical bounces to the heavy hard thrusts of his member within welcoming flesh.
He could barely understand the sighs and groans of the two girls, he could barely hear what sounded like laughter coming from the cab of the truck. He was only aware of the warm and succulent flesh beneath him, the firm large globes of breasts which he kneaded with eager fingers.
He could feel himself about to submit to the totality of the pleasure welling within him but when the gates of passion were just about to open and flood over him with a sweet rapture of release, there was a grinding of tires, the spatter of pebbles under the fenders and a horrid lurch as the truck snapped to a sudden stop.
The force of the movement literally ripped him out of the soft cushion of flesh and almost broke his head against the back of the truck's cab.
"Shit!" Nora screamed. "What the fuck are you trying to do, you stupid mother fucking son of a bitch."
Stunned and amazed, Billy Joe heard both of the truck's doors open. A moment later, struggling to untangle himself from what seemed like a sea of arms, legs, breasts and buttocks, he sat erect in the back of the truck. To his right was the man called Bo who had been driving. On the other side was the bearded passenger without the two top front teeth.
It was the toothless one who spoke first. "You're a pretty dumb shit kicker," he said. "don't you know you ain't supposed to go around fucking somebody else's mama."
"I didn't ... Hey, wait a minute!" Billy Joe managed. "It was her idea," he said nodding toward Big Mamu. "She wanted to get banged in the truck. That's why she had Sissy here eat her. Hell, I didn't--"
"Shut up, you son of a bitch," Bo said. "You haul your ass off them cunt and get down here."
"But my clothes--"
"Fuck your clothes." He turned to Nora. "See what he's got on there, Baby."
Billy Joe thought of the money in his jeans. "Hey, just a cotton picking minute there. You can't--"
A huge rough hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and - roughly pulled him screaming from the bed of the truck.
"Hey," he kept screaming. "You can't do this. You can't--"
A moment later, all of them were standing beside the truck. Nora, still naked, held his jeans in one hand a fistful of his money in the other.
"Suffering shitkickers," Bo said as he looked at the money. "What'd you do, rob a bank?"
"No. I--"
"Never mind, you son of a bitch," he said. "I'm going to teach you a thing a two about fucking around with our women. Hold him down there, Mamu. I'm going to shove something fine up his ass."
Despite his struggles, they forced him to his knees. Nora held his head down. He squirmed and tried to fight but to no avail. He felt as if his insides were being ripped apart by the first hard cruel thrust of the hot shaft that tore into him.
He screamed, but knew no one heard. It was like a hot poker tearing his nerves, rupturing his flesh and then finally spurting a hot jet of molten lava into his bowels.
A moment later there was relief but only for an instant before a second iron hard organ slammed into his brutalized and abused flesh. Again there was the searing pain, the agony of violation and the grunts behind him for impossibly long moments before another hot spurt of fire seared through him and the member was pulled away.
He lay panting and violated on the weeds of the field in which they had parked. He could hear a bird sing from some impossible distance. He could feel the hot sun on his naked back and the agony of his torn inner flesh.
As if from a dream, he heard Nora's voice coming form a soft far away. "You're a real son of a bitch, you know Bo."
"What the fuck you talking about, bitch?"
"I'm talking about you getting yours out of this stud and we're taking all this here money and you won't even let me get a little ass from him. I want that cock in me
"You think that poor son of a bitch has got a cock left to him after me and Fred finished up?"
"I'm sure as hell going to find out," she said.
His eyes were closed, there was pain all around him. He felt himself roughly rolled onto his back and again heard Nora speak.
"Now look what you done you pig fucking son of a bitch t He's all soft and fucked out!"
"Shit." It was the man called Fred. "Just give him a little head. If he don't get the old dork up, he won't be worth fucking anyways."
There was still the pain, still the pink of sky through closed eyelids and the prickle of weeds on his back. There was again the faint far-away sound of a bird and then, the half consciousness of it as he felt the hot wetness of mouth sink over his flaccid penis.
In half consciousness, the dream came again. He was safe again as he had been that morning only now the bird was gone and so were the fields and the indignity. The wetness was all over him now and he was someplace else, someplace a long far away and it was wonderful and real and the way things were supposed to be....
He could feel his flesh enlarging to the tune she was playing on his instrument and knew that despite everything he would be rock hard in a moment more.
It was perfection of the dream just the way it had been so very long ago in some place he didn't know and didn't remember....
But also he didn't care as her hot lips ran up the length of his member then down again then up again until now he knew he was as hard as he would ever become. Still the lips sucked greedily on his flesh.
From some far away land he could almost hear a male voice say, "Okay, okay, you horny cunt. You got it up now. Hop on and get your big shot then let's haul ass before some hick cop finds us here."
The dream almost shattered. It seemed as if his member had been suddenly surrounded by ice. But the hard shock of it lasted but a second. The dream returned. This time just like it had been in the beginning--only he couldn't remember what the beginning had really been like. Besides he didn't want to. He wanted just this--the smooth hot thighs on either side of his hips, the thrill of damp hair over his groin and the warm woman smell all around him. Then the soft pressure of wide, welcoming hips descending on him. The wet flesh surrounding his member and sinking--sinking--sinking ever lower until he knew he would drown in it.
"That's the way," a voice echoed from somewhere. "Fuck for old glory! Ride that son of a bitch into the ground. Just plow him in."
The hot flesh began to move, to churn, to writhe. It was like before and he swayed in a never-never world with it.
"Come on, mama," he heard a voice call.
"Yeah, baby!" It was Nora galloping madly on his erect member.
"Big Mamu's fucking that guy right to death."
...Just like the first time. Just like the first time, he knew and with the knowing there was a soft wildness to it. He lay on his back in the dirt. Now the hurt was gone, so was the pinkness of the day and the sounds of the distant bird. There was nothing but the total feeling of the sensations that began with his groin and ended somewhere near the line of heaven.
...He was in a dark room and sleep was all around him and he was safe and free and without a worry in the world. His nerves were eased by satin cushions and the great velvet thing inside him began slowly to uncurl itself and twine through his entire tingling body like a snake that would devour and free him at the same instant. Then it was that he felt the slow beginnings of it as he heard the grunt above him.
The body riding him thrashed and cried out.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shoot in me, baby! Come on, baby! Come on!"
He was welling closer and closer to his own completion, each nerve snapping separately, twanging its own little surge of pleasure and tingling that to the whole.
"Yeah, Big Mama I" They were all crying. "Come on, Mama!"
As he snapped and the flood of his one soul sped through him and surged out of him he heard himself gasp and from a distance echo their words "Yeah, Mama ... Yeah, Mama....
There were grunts above him, sounds of animals rutting for a moment. Then again, abruptly it seemed his member was plunged into a sea of ice.
"Come on," he heard Bo say. "You got your jollies. Get in and leave the son of a bitch."
...Pain, half consciousness....
He heard the sounds of scrambling bare feet. Doors slamming and the whine of a truck's starter.
...Pink beyond his eyelids ... A bird in the distance....
Wheels turned, an engine roared alive. There was diminishing sound and powerful rainfall of dust on his face and naked body.
How long he lay there, he would never know. When he opened his eyes he could see the sun far to the west in the afternoon sky.
His head hurt where Bo had viciously pulled him from the truck. His bowels were on fire with the agony of abuse. He groaned once and tried to lift himself to one elbow. It was only then he became fully conscious of the fact that he was totally naked.
"Sons-of-bitches," he muttered. "Those fairy sons-of -bitches."
He managed to struggle first to one elbow and then to his hands and knees and finally to his feet. His knees were weak and he was thirsty. Swaying uncertainly, he remembered the money--all that sweet green money in his jeans pocket.
He turned toward the highway and filled his lungs with hot humid air. "You mother fucking fairies!" he screamed. "You mother...." His voice sounded weak and impotent against an empty sky. "Oh, shit," he muttered.
He sat down again in the dust of the field. He was totally conscious now and thoroughly aware of his situation. It must be near four or five o'clock in the afternoon, he thought. He was totally naked, in the middle of a field and he hadn't eaten a thing all day. He was hurt and tired and hungry.
He looked to his right and saw a vast flat horizon nowhere spotted by any sign of cultivated vegetation or animal life. To his left the land was just as flat, just as uninviting.
"Shit!" he said aloud. Again he rose to his feet. His only hope lay along the line of highway some two hundred yards from where he stood. "The least those bastards could have done was left me some jeans."
He started walking toward the highway. As his bare feet exploded against the dry dust of the field, his brows knotted in thought.
... The dream ... it was almost the same one he had had with the widow Bryant. He wondered if there was some horrible secret about his past that he knew but still didn't want to know and it worried him more than the fact that he was about to stand beside a federal interstate highway absolutely naked and stick his thumb out for a ride.
CHAPTER FIVE
Seven cars passed him without slowing or making a sign. No passenger screamed or looked peculiar in any way. No driver honked his horn. It was as if, by being stripped out of his clothing, he had become totally and completely invisible. It was as if he actually didn't exist despite the fact that he was standing totally naked beside the highway waving frantically each time a car came in sight.
The eighth car screeched to a halt on the shoulder about twenty yards beyond him. He turned and started limping toward it on the graveled surface beside the road.
A young girl of perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age leaned out the passenger side.
"Ooooh," she purred. "Ain't you the biggest one."
He stopped.
"Don't you want a ride, honey?" she cooed.
"I've been robbed," was all he could say.
"You sure ain't been robbed of what counts most," she said.
He started limping toward the car again.
"Hey, Ellen," the girl said, apparently to the car's driver. "Take a look at how it swings when he walks. Ain't that just the biggest little ole happy stick you ever did see?"
He could hear a giggle from within the car and noticed the face of another girl leaning over the front seat and peering through the back window.
At first he felt humiliated, then decided he really deserved the ribbing. After all, he was something of a unique sight. Stark naked beside a highway, was hardly what these people were used to.
"My, you are a pretty one," the passenger said. "Glad you like it," he said. "Only I hope it don't get too cold before I find me some new clothes."
"'Fraid you'll freeze your big old noodle off?"
"I sure wouldn't want to do that."
She giggled.
He was within about two yards of the car before it accelerated spattering a painful shower of pebbles over his shins and knees. As it roared off toward the west, he heard the girl scream, "Fuck you!" to him. As the car drove into the distance, she sounded as though she were falling off a cliff.
Somehow he wished she were--a nice high cliff where she would spatter all over the rocks at the bottom and never giggle at anyone any more.
He stopped.
"Shit!" he said. "Shit, shit, shit!"
He probably would have continued mumbling the same word again and again had he not heard the approach of another car behind him.
He turned around, this time waving both hands frantically to attract the driver's attention. As the car neared, he saw that the man driving in was dressed in black and wore the plain white collar of a priest or minister. He also saw the man wave to him in a friendly way as he deliberately drove past.
"Hey!" Billy Joe called. "I've been robbed. Can't you see I'm naked, you goddamned hypocrite son-of-a-bitch."
He stood beside the highway, now staring into the setting run, screaming all the invective he knew into the distance where the car had long ago disappeared. Then, exhausted physically, mentally and spiritually, he collapsed on the pebbled gravel.
"Fuck 'em," he said aloud. "Fuck all the sons-of-bitches in this whole rotten, stinking mother fucking state. I hope they all get a hot poker slammed up their ass."
He was still sitting there just at twilight, his head pressed down on his knees, his arms wrapped about his shins when the car stopped. This time, he didn't even bother to look up.
"Well, well, well...." He heard a voice in front of him.
"Go ahead, you son-of-a-bitch," Billy Joe said. "Take a good look and have a good laugh."
"Hey, Boy, you look at me now!"
"Fuck you."
The hard crash of pain along the side of his head sent him sprawling into a pink and black world spattered with exploding shells and murderous agony. This was the last and final straw. He had put up with enough agony and humiliation for one day--for one lifetime.
He shook his head, rose to his knees and then with all the strength he had, leapt to his feet and started toward his attacker determined to beat whoever it was into nothing more or less than pulsating jelly.
"I wouldn't do that, boy."
The blur of his anger cleared. Slowly, he unclenched his fists. He was looking directly into the muzzle of a .45 caliber service automatic held in the pudgy hand of a short man dressed in khaki and wearing a six-pointed badge.
"Gosh," he managed to say after several heart-beats. "I didn't...."
"Sure you didn't, boy," the man said. "I know. You was just having yourself some fun out here, playing jaybird and frightening folks ... "
"No ... I ... "
"I'm talking to you, Boy."
"But, I was robbed ... I was ... well, I was robbed...."
"Just you get your hands on the car, Jasper. I'll say you was robbed. Robbed of your reason."
Billy Joe closed his eyes in an agony of frustration. When he opened them, his wrists were handcuffed together. The man had holstered his pistol and was standing beside the official car with his fists on his hips. He looked at Billy Joe and shook his head sarcastically.
"I'll tell you, Boy, rye seen one hell of a lot of flip-assed ninnies in my time--real loonie two shoes--but for sheer gall you really do take all. I just can't feature a young fellow standing way out here trying to attract attention thataway--"
"I told you I" Billy Joe insisted. "I was robbed. They raped me and then took everything I had ... almost three hundred dollars and all my clothes too."
"They raped you, y'said?"
"Yes." He finally thought he was getting through to the fat man.
"Who raped you, boy?"
"Couple of guys in a Chevy pickup. Named Bo and Fred and their girls, too. Nora. She's called Big Mamu and the other one's Sissy."
"No shit!"
"I'm telling you the truth. I swear it."
"That why you stood out here jerking off in front of Clara Jean Darrow and her cousin, is that it?"
"Jerking off! Hell, I don't even know any Clara Jean Darrow! Besides, I'm so sexed out I wouldn't be jerking off for anybody."
"That ain't what I heard."
"Listen, I don't give a shit what you heard. I'm telling you--"
"Hey, boy ... You ain't telling me anything. You are under arrest."
"Under arrest! You can't--"
"I can't. Hell, boy, you are more full of shit than I ever imagined. Hell, I'm the sheriff of this whole county, boy. If I can't arrest you, no one can. And I sure as shit can, believe me, boy."
"But, what for?"
"'What for? Why, you dumb shitkicking son-of-a-bitch, I just told you. Jacking off on Interstate I-14, for one thing. Standing nude and disturbing the peace for another. Offending the decency of Clara Jean Darrow for another. On top of that, insulting her cousin Ellen and, what's really going to stick is telling a lawfully constituted elected and sworn in peace officer to perform an act of indecency upon himself..
"A what?"
"Boy ... you did tell me to go and fuck myself, now didn't you?"
"I wasn't looking. I didn't know who--"
"No matter, boy. I am the sheriff and you did say it. Besides, I can't do that. It's indecent and besides that, I'm sick of jawing with you. Get in that car, boy. We're going for a little ride."
Handcuffed, humiliated, frustrated and angry, Billy Joe stepped into the car. He didn't speak on the entire trip to the sheriff's office. He remained docile, beaten and humiliated as, still naked, he was booked for a series of offenses and told he could post bail of two hundred and fifty dollars or spend the next thirty days in jail.
The idea was ridiculous. He tried again to explain that he had been robbed, but the end result was only that he was pushed into a small cell and a bundle of clothes was tossed in after him. He heard the door clang shut behind him and watched the sheriff walk away.
Still naked, exhausted and angry, he sat down on the single cot and stared unseeing at the scrawled graffiti that adorned the far wall of his cell.
He had been sitting there for some time, feeling desperately sorry for himself when he heard the clang of an outer door being opened and the shuffle of feet on the concrete floor. A moment later, he heard a gasp and a female voice, only partially indignant in tone, saying, "Well I"
He looked up.
The woman standing outside his cell door was perhaps thirty-eight or forty years old. She had once probably been somewhat slimmer but the few pounds the years had added to her figure were complimentary, falling on hips and bust to enlarge and form rather than mar or sag. Her dark hair fell loosely around a face that was still almost pretty. She was wearing a one piece dress made of faded calico and held before her a tray on which was a single plate.
"Well, what?" he demanded.
"Well, I hardly think it's gentlemanly to sit there naked as a jaybird when a lady comes to feed you." Her eyes never left his groin. He knew the minute he looked up to her what she was thinking.
He smiled his best boyish smile and let his eyes rove greedily but innocently over the lush curves of her body. Sex itself was the farthest thing from his mind, but the idea of thirty days in a small and stinking county jail was so oppressive, he was willing to do anything for acquittal.
"Gosh, ma'am," he drawled. "I'm sorry. I never thought I'd see a lady in here...."
Making sure he offered her the longest and most detailed view of his genitals, he rose from the bunk and lazily reached for the crumpled shirt and jeans the sheriff had thrown there when he had first been confined. He bent over and slipped first one leg into the faded trousers and then the other, noticing all the while that her brown eyes seemed quite literally riveted to his groin.
"My," she managed to say as he finally pulled the jeans over his exposed flesh and tried to hold them around his waist any way he could, "you're a handsome young fellow. Whatever are you in here for?"
"I was robbed!"
"Robbed?"
"Yeah, that son-of-a-bitching sheriff wouldn't listen to me."
She leaned over and slid the tray through a narrow slot at the bottom of the bars of his cell. He looked down and saw it contained what looked like lumpy mashed potatoes and two thin slices of fried baloney. He was no longer hungry.
"That son-of-a-bitching sheriff," the woman said, "just happens to be my husband."
He'd stepped in so much trouble in the last few hours, he no longer cared what he said. "Well," he drawled. "He may have some taste, but you sure as hell don't. He's a prime asshole."
"I know," she said.
At first he wasn't sure he had heard what he had. Then he was. He looked at the well-built brunette and realized she was quite literally his key to freedom.
"Gosh," he said. "You sure are a pretty lady. What's your name?"
"Mae," she told him. "Mae Snorlin."
He looked down to the greasy tray and plate on the cell's floor. "Bet a woman like you could cook up a real storm."
She giggled like a teenaged girl. The sound made him feel almost as sick as the vision of fried baloney on the plate. Then she too looked at the plate. "If I'd known what a handsome young boy you was, I'd have done a little better," she finally said.
"I am mighty hungry."
"You just wait here," she turned away. "I'll be back directly."
A moment later she had passed through the outer door. Billy Joe snarled to himself, "Where the hell else would I wait, you dumb bitch."
But twenty minutes later his sarcasm and bitterness had changed to gratitude. She returned to the one cell block carrying another tray, this one supported a plate laden with succulent ribs, grits and beans. He could smell the enticing savory aroma long before she opened his cell, walked in and placed the tray on his knees.
As he wolfed the huge meal he found out that her husband, the sheriff, had been called out to break up a fight at a nearby honkey tonk, that she often guarded the jail in his absence and, most important that she was a very unhappy, dissatisfied woman.
"I've never been out of this county," she said as she sat on the cot beside him.
He licked his fingers.
"Never seen nothing of city life. Been married to Martin all my life and he's ... he's--"
"He's what?"
She didn't answer. Instead she turned to him. "D'you think I'm sexy?"
"Sure, I--"
"I don't mean like some movie star, but I'm no freak either. I mean I'm a woman. I got all a woman's parts--"
He looked at her large breasts. "You sure have, ma'am."
"And all a woman's wants. Now, a man's supposed to want a woman ... I mean, isn't he? 'Specially the one she married. I mean, at night, in bed, he's supposed to get ... well, you know ... "
"You mean he don't fuck you?"
"Hell," she snapped, "he don't even touch me. You know how long it's been since he laid a hand on me?"
Billy Joe shook his head. "Nearly eight years." "Eight years!"
"It's terrible."
"What the hell do you do?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Bullshit."
"Well," she smiled. "Almost nothing."
"Bet you got yourself one of them fancy vibrating things."
"Like hell."
"Finger then?"
She looked up at him and shook her head. "Nope. Oh, hell, sometimes, but it ain't right without a man."
"Where you going to find a man around with your husband the sheriff?"
"He don't mind." She laid the palm of one hand gently but with unmistakable determination on his groin. "Sometimes he even helps me."
"You mean he picked me up just to--"
She squeezed his genitals and smiled. "No. Nothing like that. He don't know when he's doing me a favor. Only he sure did with you."
"You like that, don't you?"
"Playing with my cock?"
"Sure," she said. "Don't you?" "It's okay, I guess. Here...." He unbuttoned his fly and let her reach within the denim jeans to grasp eager fingers around the flesh of his penis. As she did so, she sighed in contentment and eagerness.
"That's better," she said.
He leaned back against the cold wall of the cell as her fingers massaged and manipulated the delicate flesh of his penis. "You do this to all the prisoners?" he asked.
"No, only sometimes."
"Sometimes?" Absently he slipped his hand through the opening of her calico dress and over one side of her brassiere. "What d'you mean, sometimes?"
"I mean, when I like a guy, you know...."
"I know. You got nice titties."
She sighed in lusty but quiet appreciation. "You like 'em?"
"Yeah."
"I got more."
"Two's my limit."
She giggled. "I mean more than just titties."
"I know," he said. "I got more, too."
"What d'you mean?" "I mean, honey, I can give you one hell of a lot more than just a hunk of meat to play with in your hand."
"Oh, yes," she sighed. Her hand gripped him almost brutally as he squeezed her breast.
"Course," he drawled, "it's not going to be too much fun here in this crummy old jail cell."
She turned to stare at him. There was suspicion in her eyes for the first time. "What do you mean?"
"I mean if I was to give you some loving, some real good hard loving for a long time, it'd sure be nice if I could get out of this cell and this town and this whole state."
"You're telling me to free you?"
"It could look like an accident--"
She grabbed his member even more tightly and stared deliberately into his eyes. "Listen, buster," she said between clenched teeth. "You was arrested this afternoon for being a pervert. For showing your thing to Clara Jean Darrow and her cousin Ellen. You was naked out on Interstate I-14, pestering folks and you want me to help you escape. No way. I'm going to tell you something, Mr. Billy Joe whatever your name is, you're going to be here for thirty days and thirty nights, Boy. You can play with yourself during the days, but I want the nights. Y'hear that, boy? I want thirty nights of very hard, very young and very good joint and if I don't get it you might just be in here for thirty more days for resisting a sheriff's wife."
"C'mon, lady," he said. "All I have to do is tell your husband and--"
"And shit," she snapped. "You even try something like that and you'll be over to the state pen for rape."
"Rape?"
"Rape, honey. That's right. Now what's it going to be, Billy Joe? You going to give little ole Mae some fun and loving or you going to weight down the wrong end of a rope over to the state pen?"
"Why, Mae," he smiled as he leaned closer to her and almost touched his lips to hers, "you know I couldn't resist you the first time I laid eyes on you."
Then, slowly at first but with increasing demand, their lips were on each other. Under his, he felt her mouth open to receive the darting caress of his tongue. He felt the hot desire of her embrace as her arms snaked around his muscular body and his own fingers felt for the buttons on her flimsy dress and the snap of her brassiere.
Still with lips together and hands playing over the flesh of each other's bodies they eased out of their clothing as they grunted and sighed in pleasurable abandon. Then, almost as if it had happened suddenly, she was totally naked. She was standing by the cot pulling his issue jeans down his legs baring his body so that she could feast her eyes on his erectile manhood.
"Oh, you do have a pretty pecker," she said.
"You like it?" He reached up and fondled the naked flesh of her large breasts and she leaned lower to look at him. "I'm going to like everything about you for the next month, honey. Everything...."
She knelt down on the cell floor before him and took an almost vicious hold of his genitals in both her hands. "Oh, yes," she purred. "you and me, we are going to have us some loving and sucking to make up for all the lean years ... You like getting yourself sucked off?"
"Sure," he said.
"I'm pretty good at it, you know." She continued teasing his member with her hands as she stared at it. "I mean when Martin first started to turn off on sex and all, I sent away for a book on how to make him hot. Lots of big fancy words in it like fala-something or something like that. Only what it said was if a woman took hold of a man's joint in her mouth he'd really come unglued."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Only it didn't work with him. Shit, I must have sucked him off a dozen times without him ever getting hard. You know what a woman likes? I mean really likes?"
"What?"
"When it's hard. That's the main thing. When a guy's hard. I mean really hard, then she knows he's hot for her. I mean like you are now, like a bone. That's when I begin to feel good."
He looked down to her still kneeling before him, wondering why she was talking so much as she fondled his member. Then he decided she might be the kind of woman who liked to talk her own self into arousal. It made little difference to him. He was not particularly excited after his ordeal of that morning. His main thought was to get her what she wanted and enough of it so that somehow, some way he could free himself of the horrors of this tiny county jail as soon as humanly possible.
"I'm real good at this, you know," she said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, only I don't like you to come."
"Don't, huh?"
"Nope, I just want to show you how good I am ... see...." She leaned forward with her tongue extended and holding his erect member as if it were nothing more or less than an ice cream stick placed her tongue at the very base of his penis by the scrotum and, with a great slurping sound licked slowly along the entire underside of his penis. "Like it?" she asked.
"Yeah." "I can do other things."
"What?"
"Oh, I learned a lot from some of the fellows in here."
"What?"
"Well, every now and then we get some yankee put up for a few days or some city boy. I tell you I don't know who's taught me more about sucking cock, the New Yorkers or them boys from California." Again she extended her tongue and ran it along the entire length of the underside of his penis, only this time when she reached the very knob of his shaft, she stopped, paused a moment, then rolled her tongue around the end for a maddening moment of eternity before letting her head slide slowly, ever so slowly down and down the length of his shaft until he thought for a moment she might take the entire length of it into her eager and gaping mouth.
She had not lied to him. The sensations that surged through his body as a result of her hot and pliable mouth were almost maddening, almost sufficient in themselves to spin him away from the reality of the cold cell into a world of perfect euphoria.
He let his torso relax and fell back on the hard cot. He felt her lifting one of his legs up on the canvas of the cot and her mouth again sliding down, down the hard shaft of his manhood.
And then it was pleasure ... pure pleasure....
CHAPTER SIX
...It was an old house and the bed creaked, but his room was safe and snug away from the things that scare little boys in the night. He liked the warm dark room because it gave him the dream ... the wonderful warm dream almost every night.
His father had been dead for almost two years when the dream first came. It was warm and soft and all around his penis. It was a hot licking, but safe and sure because he never really woke up. It was lips circling him and fingers playing with his scrotum and stroking and bringing him to sweet ecstasy in a pool of warm and scented oil.
There was a woman smell to the dream and he could sometimes feel the soft caress of naked breasts on his chest. Always the dream was the same and he was having the dream just now with the hot moist lips surging down over his penis and then pulling away, the hand grasping his scrotum and shaft and the sweet smell and the sweet sounds....
He almost forgot who lived in the house ... It was a rooming house and there were ten or twelve people there most of them women, but he forgot their names. He had the wonderful room to himself at the top, but he was still a boy--half boy, half-man when the dream first came to him....
It was someone coming into the room, he knew, and giving him impossible pleasure. Putting his penis into a hot wet mouth and ... and....
He opened his eyes. He was still in the cell and Mae was still over him, fondling his member, sucking greedily on it as her breast pressed against his legs. He had to erase the dream. He could not face the truth.
He pushed her away.
"Hey," she said as her mouth popped away from his shaft with a greedy little sound. "What the fuck...."
"Thought you didn't want that all the way," he said. "Thought you wanted to get fucked."
"You're not going to come off already, are you?"
He smiled. "Hey," he said softly. "Any of those fancy guys from New York or California ever eat your pussy?"
"What? What do you mean?"
"Just what I figured," he said. "They let you do all the work and got their nuts off without teaching you nothing. Here...." He pulled her almost roughly onto the cot and spread her legs so that he was kneeling between them.
"What are you--?"
"Never mind," he told her as he gazed at the dark triangle of silken hair that covered the mountain of her passion and the river of sweet pleasure beyond. "I think maybe I'm going to teach you something you're going to love learning, Lady," he said as he gently spread the lips of her vagina with his thumbs. "I'm going to eat you right out of your head."
He looked into the pink folds of flesh the pressure of his hands had exposed, saw the already quivering nipple of her clitoris looking like a tiny knob possessed of a mind of its own. It was as if it alone knew the extent of the pleasure it was about to receive even though she didn't.
"No," she said. "I--"
"Oh, hey." His voice was soothing, seductive. "Don't you back out now. I'm going to show you something you never ever felt before."
He lowered his head to her right thigh and extended his tongue to snake it along the soft, white flesh just until it reached the first fringe of silken hair. Then he rolled his head to do the same thing on her left thigh. Then he turned again. Each time he licked her thigh, he snaked his tongue just a tiny bit nearer the open gash of her now wide and eager vagina. Then he pulled slightly away from her so he was looking up the length of her torso over her belly to the huge half-melons of her breasts. He reached his hands up, slid them over her hips and ribs until they were on her breasts fondling the taut, erect nipples.
"Want it, honey?" he whispered as he blew a hot breath against the tingling flesh of her sexual organs. "Want a little tongue job on your clit? You do, don't you, honey?"
She moaned and turned her head from side to side.
"You got to tell me," he whispered. "You're the boss, lady. Tell me what you want."
"I never--"
He fondled the flesh of her breasts and again looked at her open sexual parts. This time, he extended his tongue and just barely let it touch the wet pink of the flesh.
The shudder that rippled through her was like a minor earthquake. It made her body, the cot and his own body tremble for almost three seconds.
"Want it?" he asked again.
"Oh, yes," she gasped. "Oh, yes...."
"Tell me!"
"Oh, do it, Billy Joe. Do it to me...."
Still he held himself away from her. "Do what, honey? Tell me what you want. Let me hear you say it."
"Oh, Billy Joe...."
"Tell me!"
"Stick your tongue in there, Billy Joe. Stick it in and lick me."
Almost like an obedient servant, he extended his tongue again, placed it in the hot river of her genitals and with a maddening insistence let it lick up and flick over the nipple of her clitoris.
"Oh Jesus!" she gasped. "Oh Jesus! Yes I"
"Bet that feels good, don't it?" he said.
"Oh, don't stop I" she cried. "Don't stop!"
He buried his mouth within the wide opening of her womanhood, licked and flicked her sensitive clitoris and finally began to circle his tongue around it in a slow and maddening movement.
Above him, he could hear her gasping breaths, her sighs and her murmured half urgings to him. She grunted things like "Do it," and "Don't stop." And she swore and groaned as he sucked her clitoris into his mouth, puckered and squeezed his lips around it and flicked it gently with his tongue.
"Billy Joe," she cried out as her hips thrashed against him, as her body turned on the cot and smashed against his own.
This time, he resisted the urge to tease and tempt her. He knew the sensations that were surging through her and he wanted her to feel every tingling nerve as they all spasmed to orgasm at once. He didn't know whether she was trying to buffalo him or not about never having experienced a man's tongue in her vagina before, but whether she was telling the truth or not, he was sure of one thing: she was his only ticket out of this crummy jail and he was fanatically determined to make himself the best damned male sensation she had ever in her life received.
He licked his tongue out and over her clitoris again, felt the ripple of passion surge through her, heard her groans of pleasure and the panting abandon of her breath. Her hips smashed against his face in an almost painful spasm of abandoned passion but he would not let go of the grip he had on her.
One of his hands was still caressing her breasts as he inched the other under her wide hips and caressed her buttocks, then, gently at first, but gradually with more painful determination, he let his nails sink into her flesh and claw with empassioned brutality into the delicate flesh of her buttocks.
"Yes!" he heard her cry out. "Oh, God yes! Hurt me! Hurt me!
Playfully, he took her clitoris between his teeth and rubbed it with his lips as he clawed her flesh with even more brutal fingers. He could feel the sticky moisture of trickling blood on his hand as her body shuddered partially in empassioned abandon partly in terror of the threat of mutilation his teeth were now offering.
He could feel her very insides trembling on the brink of overwhelming eruption for a long moment before it finally surged through her and then he felt it in every muscle fiber of her being. Her stomach tightened under him; her vagina spasmed in little opening and closing jerks and the nipple of clitoris between his lips seemed to be caressing his tongue with a musculature of its own. Her breasts surged against his palm and her hips squirmed as she cried out again and again in little inchoate sounds with but one meaning--that she was being smashed against the soft dome of a pleasure she had never before experienced and then was being hurtled down to the very abyss of sensation only to be thrown up again.
He held tightly to her as he would to a thrashing bronco and kept licking her insides, bringing with each flick of his tongue and lips a new and different and even more violent sensation. He thought for a moment she might tear herself away from him, but with each thrash of her hips and 'venus mound she came nearer. Her clawing fingers were laced into the tangled hair at the back of his head. Both of her palms were pressing him to her groin as if eager to pull his entire bead, his entire body, deep within her thrashing form.
"Oh, Jesus!" she cried again and again. "I'm coming, sweet Jesus! I'm coming, Lord!"
You bet your fat ass, he thought as he continued to lick her most delicate part. You're coming like you never came off before and I'm going, honey. I'm going out of this crumb-bum jail house.
For long and violent moments, perhaps many minutes, she continued to thrash against him until finally she lay panting and totally spent on the narrow cot.
"God," she gasped. "I thought I was dying and gone to Glory. I thought you'd killed me that way and I was in heaven with a lot of splashing stars all around and you tonguing me and never stopping."
"Good, huh?" he said.
"I never...." she gasped. "I never come off like that in all my life. I mean it, Billy Joe. Never."
"Guess I did you a favor then, didn't I, ma'am?"
"Oh ... yes...." Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. Her breath was coming in soft, short gasps. "Yes ... you did, Billy Joe ... Yes, you did...."
This was it, he thought. Now it was all or nothing. "So, it's sort of like you owe me one, right?"
"Oh, God, anything. I'll do anything for you. You just name it."
"How about...."
"Anything, honey," she whispered. Her eyes were still closed. "Anything."
"How about getting me out?"
Her eyes snapped open. She sat up on the cot with such violence that she almost knocked him to the floor. She stared at him in amazement, her huge breasts quivering, her lips parted in astonishment.
"What?" she finally asked.
"It ain't so much," he said as he reached out to stroke one of her breasts. "I mean all you'd have to do would be accidentally leave the door open while your husband's not looking--"
"Are you out of your goddamned head?" she demanded. She stood up and stared down at him as she grabbed her scattered clothing and began to dress.
"Why no, ma'am. I just thought that ... I mean, you said you had a good come and all. You told me I did you a favor and made you feel good and all. I just thought you might want to do me one back, that's all."
She Was dressed now. She slipped the last button of her dress through its hole and casually, but very efficiently picked up the tray which had carried the plate of ribs. Without speaking, she walked out of his cell and made a deliberate effort of locking it behind her.
Only when he was again locked in and she was safely beyond his reach outside the bars did she speak. When she did her voice was soft and almost kind.
"You are about the dumbest, shit-kicking son-of-a-bitch I have ever met in my life," she said.
"Hey now. Just one fucking minute--"
"You think for one second I'm going to let you eat my pussy like you did and give me a thrill like that and then just turn you loose on the rest of the world? Shit, Billy Joe, you must be crazy."
"But--"
"But nothing, honey." She smiled. "I got you right where I want you, boy, and I've got you there for thirty days and thirty beautiful nights. You are going to carry me right to heaven every single one of them nights, Billy Joe, or this county's going to hear me scream 'rape' like you never heard rape screamed."
"Oh, no!"
"Oh yes, honey, and don't you forget it." She turned away from him and walked along the short corridor to the other door. She pulled it open, turned once to him and smiled sweetly.
"Goodnight, lover," she purred.
She backed through the door and disappeared.
Billy Joe Whyley stood in the cold cell. He was naked and alone and he felt like the world's biggest fool.
"Shit," he said aloud. "Shit, shit and double shit."
CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn't until his fourth night with her that his mind began to function as it should have in the first place. Then the idea came to him out of a clear vacuum as he lay on the narrow cot and watched her slip greedily out of her dress and undertings to reveal her mature, but still lush and inviting body.
He let his eyes roll from her dark hair, down over her almost pouting full lips to the smooth line of her neck and shoulders. He arrested his gaze at her firm and large breasts with their pink nipples surrounded by sweet halos of areola. Then, after feasting his eyes, he slid his glance downward, over the flesh of her belly and paused again at her hips. She had a figure like an hour glass--wide flaring hips firmly fleshed yet softly welcoming for love--punctuated in the center by the an exact triangle of silken hair pointing like an arrow to the very center of her womanhood.
He glanced down her long, pleasantly rounded legs and then let his eyes climb again to her groin, her abdomen, her jutting breasts and finally up to her face again.
"Like it?" she said.
He grunted.
"See...." She placed her hands on her wide hips and twisted her body slightly before him almost like a burlesque dancer or a naked prostitute allowing him full visual inspection of merchandise he would, in a moment, use.
"Yeah."
"Jail isn't so bad, after all, is it?"
Her genitals were swaying this way and that, immediately before him. He lay on the bunk and looked up to her body as she pranced this way and that in a way she obviously thought was teasing and exciting him.
"Nope," he lied. Lazily, he reached out and stroked the flesh of her left thigh just behind and above the knee. He could feel the little ripple of excitement scurry through her.
She sighed as she rubbed her leg against his palm for a second then twisted coquettishly out of his reach.
"You sure do like to tease," he said.
"Makes the main event more interesting, don't you think?"
He grunted. She certainly was a well-built woman, he thought, but he hated being stuck in jail with her. She was horny as a jack rabbit. She hadn't let him alone for four solid days. Even though he was young and had always been able to satisfy any woman he had met as many times as she had wanted satisfaction, he felt that this jailer's wife--this almost perverted Mae Snorlin--would succeed in killing him with her desires long before his sentence had been served. Also, he was pretty sure she was enjoying herself and her sex so much that even if he did survive the first thirty days and thirty nights, she would make sure her husband came up with some other trumped up charge to keep him locked up until she was tired of him.
God, he thought, she sure does love her loving.
And then the idea came to him like thunder and lightning all at once on a nuclear proving ground. It was so simple, so blinding, so wonderful that he sat bolt upright on the cot and blinked his eyes twice.
Mae backed away from him as she did her teasing, seductive dance. She was now in a corner of the tiny cell swaying seductively back and forth as she stroked her hips and stomach and breasts with her palms.
"Oh, my...." she purred as she looked at him with heavily lidded black eyes. "Oh, my titties feel so good, Billy Joe. They're just aching for a little tongue."
He stared at her trying to appear love-starved and enraptured by her. It was so simple, really. For four days they had been giving each other sexual pleasure, but there had been no thought of love. Why hadn't he thought of it before, he wondered. It was simple. All he had to do was convince her that he was in love with her--really in love with her--and get her to believe him and she would be putty in his hands.
He silently cursed himself for being the world's stupidest man. That was his business, the way he made the money to travel all over the country and he hadn't even thought of trying to use it to get out of jail.
"Bet you'd like to take them in your hands and feel them, wouldn't you, honey?" she said.
He swallowed, then let his mouth hang slack. He hoped he made himself look like a love-starved swain. Finally he looked her directly in the eyes and said, "You sure are a beautiful woman, Mae."
She stopped moving her hips and removed her hands from her naked breasts. Her expression was one of slight doubt and certain amazement as she returned his glance. "What?" she finally said.
"I mean ... Well, it's true. You are. You're a beautiful woman. I just hate thinking of you lying next to that fat sheriff every night."
This time her mouth dropped open. She stood in the corner of the cell as if she had been hit on the head with a brick. Finally, she took a pace toward him. "You mean that, Billy Joe? I mean, really mean it?"
"Course I do," he lied. "Why I've never ever in my life had a better time than just being here with you in this jail."
She took another pace toward him and smiled. There was doubt in her eyes but her voice was gentle. "You're a lying son-of-a-bitch, Billy Joe, and you know it."
"No. Honest," he said as he rose from the cot and stepped directly in front of her. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful and ... well ... I guess I'm a little jealous, that's all."
"He can't do anything," she said. "He can't even get his pecker hard. I told you that."
Gently, he took her waist in his palms and let them slowly slide up her torso and back, then he brought them forward and cupped her breasts in eager fingers.
She shivered under his touch. Her mouth dropped open. A gasp of pleasure escaped her full lips and her eyes closed in sensuous joy.
"I just don't want him touching you," he whispered in her ear. "I can't stand thinking of him feeling your titties and putting his hands all over you. I don't want anyone to touch you like this. Nobody but me."
He was slowly caressing her naked body with his fingers his lips brushed her neck and ear.
"Oh, Billy Joe," she sighed. "I never thought...."
"I can't help it, Mae." His mouth was against her ear now. "I tried, but I couldn't help it. I guess...."
She pressed her naked flesh against him and he drew her toward the bunk. He forced his own body to tremble and made his voice sound hoarse and stumbling. "I love you, Mae," he gasped. "I love you."
He said a short silent prayer. Make her believe it, Lord. Get me out of this stinking jail.
"Oh, Billy Joe!" She grasped his body in an almost brutal hug. They swayed together for a moment and then fell to the canvas cot. Her lips seemed to be on every part of his body at once. They caressed his ears and eyes and neck. They brushed over his mouth and, as her fingers tore at the buttons of his shirt, they kissed his chest and stomach moving down as she tugged at his fly and ripped his jeans away from his genitals.
Make it work, Lord, he kept thinking as she fondled his penis. Make her fall in love.
She began to mutter as she looked at his manhood. He heard her say things about not believing in the truth and how beautiful he looked.
He didn't want her to take him in her mouth again. He had to make sure she really believed him and he knew the only way to do that was face to face.
Roughly, he rolled her on her back and spread her legs apart for his entrance. Then, with maddening slowness, he placed the head of his erect shaft against the wet folds of her eager labia. This would be the greatest acting job of his life and he had to make it good.
"I love you, Mae," he gasped. "I love you!" As he said it he let his penis slip deep into the hot folds of her welcoming flesh.
He felt her quiver with pleasure as his flesh sank deep into her body. He heard her sigh his name and then gasp the words he had hoped for.
"Oh, Billy Joe ... I love you, too...."
Home free, he thought as he began to move his hips against hers and kiss the hot flesh of her neck and face. He thrust and withdrew. He murmured and groaned and made all the sounds he thought sincerity would bring to his lips. More than anything else, he wanted her to have the greatest orgasm of her life and believe that he was the only man for her.
She was thrashing wildly against him now, making the canvas cot sway back and forth and the small cell echo with her moans and grunts.
Both of them kept muttering about love as he clawed her buttocks and drew her hips tighter to his own. Her legs were spread wide to receive his empassioned thrusts and she bent her knees so that her bare feet slapped against his buttocks, as he plowed the shaft of his manhood into her.
Her hands were clawing at his back and buttocks, her head was rolling from side to side. He knew she was experiencing a pleasure that was new and unique for her.
"Oh, Billy Joe," she kept calling out. "Oh, do it. I love it! I love you. Oh, don't stop fucking me, Billy Joe. Don't ever stop. It's so good."
He grunted as he slammed his hips hard against her, withdrew and thrust again. He muttered her name as he played with her breasts and kissed her neck.
"Oh, sweet Jesus," she cried out. "Oh, you're making me come apart!"
Her hips thrashed against him so hard, he thought for a moment she was trying to break his pelvic arch. Her screams sounded like a combination of wild animal feasting and a murder victim.
He could actually feel the spasms of her inner body as she orgasmed under him and he determined to give her as many shattering releases as he could.
"Oh, don't," she gasped as he continued to thrust rapidly into her spasming flesh. Then, "Oh, Billy Joe, don't ... don't stop! Don't ever stop loving me...."
Thrust ... withdraw ... She was under him for every stroke. She kept twitching and writhing under him and he kept thrusting harder and harder.
"Oh, I can't," she gasped. "I can't do it again. I can't come off no more, Billy Joe."
He refused to listen ... refused to stop. He continued thrusting into her like an empassioned madman.
"Oh, no...."
"Oh, yes, honey," he said. "One more time with me."
"With ... you ...!"
He could feel the beginning surges of release building within him and then the hot unwinding surge of his ultimate release twining through his sexual tubes and finally the hot spurt of his release ripping through him and out into her waiting, welcoming flesh.
"Oh, God!" she cried out as she felt the moulten spurt of his ejaculation. "I can't stop ... I can't stop coming!"
They thrashed and tore at one another groaning and gasping like phantom warriors wrestling in a strange arena, each refusing to pull away from the other until one would concede defeat, exhaustion and ultimate dominance by the other.
And after long, twitching, twisting and gasping moments, that victory came.
She lay exhausted and beaten under him. Her body was covered with a thin film of sweat, her eyes fluttered and her mouth hung slack. Her breasts were moving up and down with her heavy breathing. He knew he had won his battle. She was his at last.
He moved his organ tentatively within her, felt it rub against her highly sensitive clitoris, savored the little shudder that rippled through her exhausted body and then pulled himself out of her wet flesh.
"Oh, Mae," he lied. "I really do love you." He felt like a real criminal saying it, but he also knew it was his only means of getting out of jail.
She just had the strength to lift one hand and caress his cheek. She looked into his eyes and her lips lifted in a lazy sensuous smile. "You're beautiful, Billy Joe," she sighed. "I love you, too."
That's exactly when he started the most desperate game of his entire life. If he had been in pictures, he thought later, he would surely have gotten the Academy Award for that.
He pulled away from her and sat down on the cot. He put his elbows on his knees and sank his head in his palms.
"What's the matter, honey?" She lifted herself to prop her body on one elbow.
"I can't stand it, that's all."
"Can't stand what?"
"Him," he said. "You and him in bed together."
"I told you before, he don't do nothing. He can't get a hard-on."
"I still don't like it. I mean, you're important to me, Mae. I mean it. I never met a woman like you. I can't think of anything else except being with you and feeling your body all over me and kissing you and eating your pussy and all. I love you, Mae."
She put her cheek against his back and rubbed one palm over his thigh.
"And what's going to happen when I get out of here? I'll have to go away or he'll put me in here again. Then he'll find out sooner or later. I just wish we could be together without him around, without all this jail and all."
He waited. He could almost hear the wheels of her thoughts turning around. It was a long, long time before she spoke.
"Maybe ... maybe there is a way, honey,"
"Hell. No way that's any good," he said.
"I don't know," she said. "I mean suppose--"
"Suppose what?"
"Suppose we were both to run away?"
"You mean, you and me together?"
"Sure."
"Oh, Mae, that would be perfect. Only...."
"I think I could work it out if you just do me one more favor."
"What's that?"
"Eat my pussy again, Billy Joe."
Nothing would surprise him anymore, he thought. Here the woman had just almost been killed by the intensity of her own multiple orgasm spasms and within a matter of no more than minutes she wanted release again. She was absolutely insatiable, he thought. But right at the moment he really didn't care, she had played right into his hand, it would only be a matter of minutes or even hours before he would be out and free again and on his way. Maybe this time he even would go to Charlottesburg. At least he would be safe there.
He turned on the cot and faced her. She was lying on her back now, one knee bent, the other straight. He could see her vagina was still wide and eager for any caress.
"You never do get enough loving, do you?" he said.
"Not from you, Billy Joe. I want you in me all the time."
"Well, I'm pretty good," he said. "But I'll never be all that perfect."
"You got a tongue. Stick that in me. That'll drive me right on up the wall."
"You're telling the truth, Mae? I give your clit a good lickin' in there and make you come off again and go out of your head and you'll run off with me?"
"Sure, honey."
"Promise?"
"I told you, Billy Joe, I've never been out of this county in my life and I sure as hell never got myself fucked and sucked like you do me. I'm not letting you go for nothing. Come on, baby, eat your way to heaven and we'll be across the county line long before the sun comes up tomorrow."
"Mae," he said. "I love you."
This time, as he leaned over her about to sink his lips and tongue into her sweet and eager flesh, he almost meant it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
This time as he licked and kissed her succulent inner flesh, he could only think of one thing, getting out of jail. He had to make her believe absolutely that every movement of his lips and tongue, every sweeping caress of his hands over her breasts and stomach and buttocks was a gesture of absolute sincerity.
Exhausted and spent by her previous series of releases, she lay contentedly under him, her hips relaxed, her breathing regular as she savored the sensual joy of being orally and manually caressed.
Billy Joe was tired and in no mood for his present assignment, but he knew he could not release his mouth from her. He was determined to stay with it to the very end.
And that didn't come for almost a full half hour.
When it did, her spasms were like a slow and easy surf welling up and sweeping over and then welling up again.
"Oh," she sighed and her voice rose and fell with the single sound making it seem like it was composed of three distinct syllables. "Oh, good, Billy Joe. Oh gooooooood."
He flicked her clitoris with his tongue a few more times, then exhausted, lifted his head from her hot groin and smiled down at her as he wiped the film of her love juices from his chin.
"You sure like getting your pussy sucked," he said.
"I told you, nobody ever did that before."
"Gets to be habit-forming after a while."
"I hear there are women who do that," she said.
"No shit?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with me, Billy Joe. You know a lot more things about life than you let on. I just wondered what it'll be like having another woman go down on me like that."
"Hey," he said. "You just never get enough in there, do you?"
"I was only thinking."
"Well, how about thinking on how we're going to get out of here."
She rose slowly so that she was sitting beside him. "You do love me, don't you, Billy?"
"Of course I do," he lied.
"I mean, you won't run off if I set you free?"
"No chance, honey."
"Honest?"
He leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the lips in a gesture of reassurance. "Honest," he repeated when he pulled his lips away. Then, "You better hurry now if we're going to be across the state line before morning."
"Oh, Billy Joe, you don't know what this means to me."
"Go on now," he said. "Once we're out, I'll put your pretty ass down on the first open field we find and show you what a real plowing is like. You never been fucked outdoors, have you?"
"Billy," she said. "It's like I never been fucked in my life until you come along. I mean it."
"Go on now," he told her. "I'll wait right here until you come on back."
They giggled at his attempted humor, then she kissed him once more and hurriedly slipped into her clothes.
Within no more than twenty minutes she was back. She led him out of the cell, through the door at the end of the corridor and out of the small building to a back alley. There she motioned to an old Ford and five minutes later, they were on Interstate I-14 heading west to freedom.
Determined to put as much distance as possible between them and Mae's husband, they drove through the night stopping only once to fill the car's tank with gasoline. Finally, just before dawn, Mae pulled to the side of the road and sighed.
"I just can't stay awake any more," she told him. "I've had it."
He smiled. "You sure have," he told her.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing," he said. "Only that you've had it. It was sort of a joke."
He got out and walked around the car and slid behind the wheel as she inched to the passenger side. They hadn't traveled a mile before she was fast asleep snoring in relaxed contentment.
He had slept a few hours while she had driven and felt refreshed and wide awake. As the scenery sped past him he tried to think of some way to get rid of her and proceed on his own. He couldn't just walk off. She'd have the car and be able to hunt him down. If he left her, she'd file a stolen car report. Within a couple of hours her husband would probably be looking for them both.
His mind was whirling with the inertia of a thousand different thoughts just after nine o'clock when he spotted the figure beside the road. He slowed down, saw it was a young woman in jeans and sweatshirt standing beside a large knapsack. Before he had even stopped the car, he had made up his mind about what he would do.
He flicked the lock on the passenger side and motioned through the window for the girl to come around to the driver's side. As she passed in front of him, he noticed that her breasts were high and firm, that she wore no brassiere under her sweatshirt.
She was a redhead, maybe twenty or twenty-three years old, and she had been alone. He made sure no young man--or men--popped up from out of hiding when he stopped.
She was by his open window now. He glanced to the right, saw that Mae was still snoring happily.
"Yeah?" the girl said.
"You want to put out for a ride?" he asked.
"Do I what!" She took a pace backward.
"Oh, cut the bullshit," he said. "You're no fucking cherry and you're not going to get raped."
She stared at him wide-eyed for a long moment before she finally spoke. "What are you?" she said. "Some kind of freak or something?
"Listen, you want a ride and I want a job done. How about it."
"At least you're direct, kid. How about a hand job. I mean I don't even know you."
"Not for me," he said. He lowered his voice and nodded his head toward Mae.
The girl leaned lower and peered in the window. "Who's she?" she asked. "Your mom?"
"No, just a woman who likes her sex. She's never made it with a girl. I want you to eat her a little."
"Are you kidding?"
"Listen, lady. You can rot out here for the rest of the day if you like or you can ride as far as you want with us. All you got to do is play like you're a dyke and give her a little head, that's all."
"You must be off your goddamned head, kid."
"Take it or leave it," he said. "It sure ain't going to hurt none."
The girl looked at him quizzically. "What about you?" she finally asked. "What are you getting out of this?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. You one of those freaks who gets his nuts off watching? Or are you going to want me going down on you too, or what?"
"No," he told her. "Just on her. You just make sure she comes apart at the seams."
The young woman looked doubtful for a moment. "You know," she said finally, "I never thought it showed."
"What showed?"
"How did you know?" she said.
"Know what?"
"I'm bi."
"Bi?"
"Bisexual."
"Yeah."
"But I swear to Christ I never had an offer like this, before."
"Well you got one now. You game?"
"Sure," she said.
She walked around the car as he opened the door for her. As she tossed her knapsack into the rear and slid onto the front seat, Mae grunted, but did not wake up.
The girl slammed the door and Billy accelerated. "How did you know?" she said again once they were cruising westward.
"I didn't. I just saw you standing there and took a chance. Now listen, we have a long drive and I want some action started on her right away. First you get out of that sweatshirt and show a little titty to the world, then you can start feeling her up. Watch out, though. Once she's awake she's got the hots that won't stop."
"Jesus," the girl said, "this is the screwiest sex bit I ever saw in my life."
"Just strip down and start playing," he told her. "We can talk later on."
"Whatever you say, kid."
She crossed her arms over her chest, grabbed the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head in one smooth gesture. As she did so, Billy Joe glanced to his right. He had never seen such a beautiful pair of breasts in his life. They were high and firm, pointing out and slightly upward. Their nipples were just a bit larger than pencil erasers and seemed to be begging to be kissed. He couldn't resist the temptation to take his hand from the wheel and reach out to fondle one.
"Hey," the girl said. "I thought you wanted me to make the scene with her."
"I do," he said. "Hell, a little feel's not going to hurt you."
"You ever seen a couple of broads make it?" the girl asked.
"Sort of," he said.
"Like it?"
He was still bitter about the incident which had led to his being buggered and robbed, sent to jail and finally trapped with Mae Snorlin. "It wasn't all that great," he told her.
"You know something," the girl said. "You are about to be a part of something really fine. Why don't you just pull over someplace where there are a few trees and nobody to peek in and I'll show you what a real woman can do."
He shrugged. All he wanted was for Mae to get a good dose of pure animal pleasure from another woman, get hooked on it and leave him alone. If he could learn something in the meantime, all the better.
He spotted a wooded area some hundred or so yards ahead to the left of the highway and turned off a side road toward it.
Voices and stops and starts had not done it before but the turn and the bounces on the dirt road finally succeeded in waking Mae.
She snorted and blinked her eyes, then stared at the half naked girl sitting beside her.
"Who the hell's she?" she demanded.
"Hitchhiker," he told her.
"Hitchhiker! What the fuck's she doing in here without her shirt on?"
He stopped the car under the trees. "She's going to eat your pussy."
"She's what?"
"You heard me," he said as he opened the door. He walked around the car and opened the door on the passenger side. "See, Mae, I remembered. You told me you wanted to make it with another girl--
"I never meant--"
"Look, she's bisexual. She'll do it with both of us. It'll be perfect."
As the girl stepped out of the car, Billy Joe again ran his fingers over the perfectly formed flesh of her breasts. "They feel real good, Mae. See for yourself."
The girl leaned back and down so that Mae, still seated in the car, could lift a tentative hand and almost shyly caress the flesh of her right breast and the erectile nub of firm nipple. As she did so the girl extended her own hand and caressed the swell of Mae's bosom under the material of her thin dress.
Both women sighed at the same time.
A moment later, Mae was out of the car and unbuttoning the front of her dress as the younger woman slipped easily out of her skin-tight jeans and meticulously folded them into a neat pillow of denim. She sat down on the cloth and looked almost greedily at Mae as the last button slipped through its hole and the dress fluttered to the ground to puddle at her feet.
Almost shyly, Mae removed her brassiere and freed her huge breasts. Then she slipped her thumbs through the band of her panties and eased them down her full thighs.
She stood totally naked looking at the younger woman for a long moment. Then, Billy Joe watched her take what looked like a sleepwalker's step toward where the hitchhiker sat. Mae took another step and then another until she was standing directly over the girl, her sexual parts exactly level with the other woman's face.
As Billy watched, the hitchhiker slid her hands gently up the backs of Mae's legs until they were behind her knees. Then, still slowly, moved them up the backs of Mae's thighs to her buttocks. She cupped the firm flesh of buttocks in both hands and drew Mae toward her.
Her tongue snaked out, but Billy Joe could only see her head pressed tightly to the dark mat of hair covering Mae's womanhood.
He heard Mae gasp and the slight wet sounds the other woman made as she moved her tongue. He saw Mae's mouth drop open and her eyes clamp shut and he knew she was feeling something that even he hadn't been able to give her.
He walked behind where she was swaying, sighing and groaning and snaked his hands around her so that his fingers could caress her nipples and he could nuzzle the back of her neck and her ears.
"Feels good, don't it?" he sighed in her ear.
She gasped.
"You like it with her tongue in you and me playing on your titties, don't you?"
"Oh ... "
"Tell me!"
"Oh yes ... oh yes. I can't stand it."
"Sure you can, honey," he said as he flicked on her hardening nipples. "You like that little old tongue in there doing its job and flicking your little old clit around. And you love it when I play with your titties like this."
"Oh yes!"
She swayed and might have fallen if he hadn't supported her with his arms.
"I can't...." she gasped. "It's too good too good...."
She sagged in his arms. Her knees completely weak and relaxed. Gently he eased her down to the short grass of the field so that the hitchhiker's mouth never left the wet gash of her vagina. He stood over them watching the two women writhe sensuously on the ground, listening to their mingled moans of contentment and their gasps of exquisite pleasure.
Mighty fine, he thought to himself as he started to back away from their swaying, churning bodies.
He had, at first, considered just walking away from them, leaving them to enjoy their bodies in a blind abandon of carnality. Now as he looked back toward the highway, he realized he could never escape that way. Besides, he thought, the little scene in front of him was kind of fascinating. The hitchhiker was much better looking than either Nora or Sissy had been. Besides that, she was a lot cleaner. She had her head buried in the soft hairs of Mae's groin and seemed oblivious to anything else.
Billy let his eyes rove over the two bodies. He determined to join with them in the best way he could, but spent a moment considering just what that would be. Should he put himself in Mae's mouth to give her a double thrill or should he try something new and join with the bisexual hitchhiker?
Suddenly he didn't want to give Mae any more satisfaction. He had done everything two human beings could in the four days he had spent as her sexual slave in the jail. Now he wanted the other woman, not because she was what he really liked in terms of a sex partner, but because she was new to him and different.
He walked to where they were lying on the grass and slipped out of his pants and shirt. He leaned over the hitchhiker, fondled her perfect breasts and whispered in her ear:
"Want some cock, too?"
She did not answer, did not remove her mouth from Mae's vagina, but he saw her nod her head up and down and heard her inchoate grunt of affirmation. Also, he saw her push Mae gently on her back and lean over her so that she herself was propped on her knees.
Billy Joe looked at her hips and buttocks and thought he had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. He placed his now hard shaft against the wet flesh of her opening vagina and slowly, deliberately thrust himself deep into the folds of her passion.
The thrill that surged through him was one that was totally unique. He could feel her swaying buttocks under him as he watched Mae's empassioned face happily turning back and forth before him.
If he had thought he could control himself under the circumstances, he was wrong. Yet his very excitement was perfectly timed to make his spasm of hot ejaculation come at the very moment that Mae writhed in abandoned release.
The three of them cried out as in one voice, shuddered convulsively, then lay exhausted on the ground.
He lay quiet for several seconds, then removed himself from the younger girl's vagina. He rose to his feet and began to slip into his clothes. A moment later the hitchhiker rose and stood beside him.
"Least you could have done was wait for me to come, too," she said.
"Sorry."
"You are like hell. All you wanted was for her to get her jolly pie and pop your own nuts off. You never gave a shit about me."
"What the hell did you expect?"
"I did you a favor, didn't I?" she smiled.
"Yeah."
"Well, you do me one."
It was perfect. They both seemed to be sharing the identical thought. She picked up her neatly folded jeans and as Mae still lay spent and exhausted, walked toward the car. He slid behind the wheel and she, still naked, got in beside him.
As she slammed the door on the passenger side, Billy Joe saw Mae sit up and stare at them with wide and unbelieving eyes.
"Hey!" she called as he started the car. "Hey, where are you going?"
Billy Joe waved to her as he swung the car around in a wide arc and headed toward the highway.
"Hey, you son-of-a-bitch! Wait for me, mother fucker!"
The sound of her invective faded into the distance as he reached the highway and headed west. He felt happy and free. At the next town he'd get rid of the car and neither Mae nor her husband would ever have a chance of finding him.
He reached out his right hand and absently, affectionately, stroked the girl's left breast.
"They sure are pretty," he said.
"You better watch yourself, buster," she said. "You play around too much and you're going to get yourself raped."
"Might be fun," he said.
"Next time you wait till I come off, you hear."
"Right," he said.
"And I want that next time just about as fast as it can be."
"It's not going to be all that fast," he told her. "Hell, I just popped my nuts."
"I'll get you up again," she said. "Don't worry about that."
She reached over and unzipped the tops of his prison jeans and reached inside to grab his flaccid member. She pulled it out and squeezed it gently with eager fingers.
"Hey," he said. "I'm driving."
"Go ahead and drive. I don't mind."
"We'll crack up."
"You just keep your eyes on the road," she told him. "I've got work to do and when I finish you better pull over in a hurry 'cause I want something in me that'll be big and hot and hard. And I want it in me for a long time, buster. Some long time."
She leaned over the wheel and sank her hot mouth over his flaccid member sending a shiver of wild excitement through it and along his spine.
He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again as the car almost swerved off the road.
The sensation was euphoric, but he knew he could not close his eyes again.
Her tongue licked around his soft penis and her lips puckered and withdrew, then sucked again.
He still stared at the road, but there were other half-visions--strange phantoms from the past--from the dream....
...He was in the room again in the old rooming house and he was alone. There was no one but himself in the room and it was very dark....
Her mouth worked down and then up on his penis. He could feel the first tingles of arousal creeping through his renewed flesh. Her tongue was like a magic erotic snake ticking him closer and closer to another erection.
...But still the visions, the room and the old house. Dark and in shadow ... He was in bed, then there was a slight noise ... He remembered, he was half awake when he saw the door open ... just a slight shaft of light from the hall and then a figure there ... all shadow, then the door closed again and the dream was about to begin....
He became more excited as she worked her lips and tongue slowly but eagerly over his hardening shaft. The excitement began to well in him.
...There was someone in the room with him but he was not afraid ... There was a familiarity there ... It was in the movements ... the sound of feet tiptoeing across the floor ... in the smell of the intruder ... He was back asleep again ... he knew that ... It wasn't real, it was a dream and had always been a dream....
Then the two sensations merged. The sensation of the past, the one bringing with it all the pleasure of childhood and the guilt of first arousal and the pleasure of here and now!
He flicked the muscles of his penis and knew he was totally hard again. He also knew what he would find in the dream if he let her bring him to a point of release.
Brutally, he slammed on the brakes and eased the car to the side of the road as he pulled on her hair and tore her head away from his groin.
"What!" she gasped.
The car stopped.
"Not here," she said. "We're right by the highway."
He slid over toward the passenger side. "You wanted some cock in you, honey," he said, grasping his rock hard member in his hand.
"Well, here it is. Hop on it and fuck your way to heaven."
She looked down at his turgid member and smiled. "Okay," she said. As she twisted around and straddled him, her large perfect breasts were at eye level.
"Eat them," she said. "Eat my titties and I'll go crazy for you."
He darted his tongue out, licked it over one hard nipple and knew he was about to experience what might be the single most erotic thrill of his entire young life.
CHAPTER NINE
She teased his member with the wet folds of her eager vagina for several long moments as she allowed him to kiss and lick the smooth, firm flesh of both breasts.
"Suck on them," she kept saying. "Go ahead, suck on them. It drives me off my head."
He pulled her nipple into his mouth, tasted the sweet erect flesh and let his palms roam over the smoothness of her form. Her flesh was firmer than any he had ever felt and her thighs against his own were squeezing with a hard muscular demand.
Still she poised the seat of her passion just exactly above the head of his own member. He could feel the increased warmth of her more delicate flesh, the humid dampness of the very nearness of it. Then, like the searing crash of an erotic meteor, a drop of her amorous fluid scalded him on the very tip of his penis.
He could no longer stand remaining outside her welcoming flesh. Violently he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down to him so that in an instant he was buried to the very hilt in the hot volcano of her channel of love.
They did not move. She crouched on him. They stared into each other's eyes and they savored the contact of flesh in flesh.
"You like my cooze?" she said at length.
"Yeah."
He could feel her tighten her inner muscles to grasp him more tightly. She released him slightly and tightened again.
"Feel that?"
"Sure," he said.
"Like it?"
He let his hips relax and then arched them upward in a violent gesture. He slammed up into her hot flesh once ... twice ... three times ... listening to her gasps, seeing her eyes roll and her mouth sag open in intense pleasure. Then he relaxed.
"Feel that?" he mimicked.
"Oh, yes ... yes...."
"Like it?" She smiled. "You fuck real nice, kid. Real nice. Just do it slow and easy and let me feel every sweet inch, okay?"
He didn't answer as she began to roll her hips on top of him in the slow sensuous movements of a belly dancer or a burlesque performer. Her eyes remained open and her thick lips continued to smile as occasionally she puckered them and brushed their wet surfaces across his own. As she rolled her hips against his, she unbuttoned his shirt so that her nipples could make free contact with the flesh of his chest.
Her body seemed like a firm, but boneless thing swaying and churning in maddening slowness, bringing to him with each movement a sweet and lazy pleasure that swelled through his entire body from his groin to his very toes and fingertips.
"Make it slow, kid," she said as she rolled easily and sensuously over him and let her nipples sway gently on the flesh of his chest. "Slow and easy. Slow and easy and then...." She sighed.
"Yeah?"
"Oh, you feel good like that, kid. Way up high inside me"
"And then?"
"Oh. And then when I finally do come, I'll come all over you. I can feel it building in me, kid. It feels so good. I'm going to come all apart."
He grunted. Her movements retained the same slow and lazy rhythm but her smile became lax and sensual. Her lips hung loosely and her eyelids drooped. When she spoke her words were slightly slurred like those of a drunkard.
"Oh, wait for me, kid. Just keep it in there and let me rub on it. God, it's good this way. It's like your cock is the biggest thing in the whole world and it's just filling me."
Her head was swaying now, lolling to one side then the other as her words changed from slurs to half-words.
"You coming?" he asked.
"Oh, kid ... you feel ... so ... so ... good in me. I'm going off my ... head ... kid ... off ... my...."
He grasped her firm buttocks in both hands, lifted it up and let it drop on him. As she swayed her hips from one side to the other he lifted them up and down so that the motion that joined them and caressed their sensuous nerve endings was a four-sided one. They caressed and stroked and brought to maddening excitement every tingling fiber of every nerve ending able to respond.
"You coming?" he said again.
"Oh ... kid ... in ... a ... minute ... there ... rub it there ... ch ... kid, you fuck so good ... you fuck so good."
He knew he could not control himself much longer under the impossible slow sensuousity of her grinding hips. Her insides seemed made of warm honey and the swaying of her hips was an abandoned dance in some erotic harem.
He thrust even more deeply into her. Impatiently, he lifted her buttocks again and let her drop on him. "Come on!" he said as he rubbed his chest against her nipples and pressed his flesh tightly to her breasts. "Come on, baby. Get your jollies!"
Her eyes were closed now. She was in a world of pure pleasure made almost of dreams.
He touched his lips gently to hers and thrust deeply inside her once more.
Then their faces were apart. Her eyes opened widely and her lips pulled into a slow and easy smile.
They both stopped completely. They were suspended in some impossibly erotic eternity for the beat of a hummingbird's wings until she said,
"Kid...."
"Yeah?"
"I'm coming...."
Then, with no more warning she started to thrash and scream and pound her hips on him like a wild woman.
"Coming, kid!" she screamed. "Oh, fuck me apart!"
He thrust upward so hard that her head slammed against the roof of the car, but she seemed unconcerned. She returned his movements blow for blow, screaming and grunting with each thrust until finally she collapsed on top of him, her breasts still pressed to his chest, her ticking, throbbing sexuality still wet but now exhausted around the shaft of his manhood.
He could feel her exhausted breathing in his ear, but he didn't care. This time he wanted his inning. Despite her dead weight he was determined to have it. He thrust 'upward, then let his body relax. Again he thrust ... He was near his release but she was totally unresponsive until he made his third thrust. As he began to feel himself edging to the very brink of his own release, he felt her tighten her inner muscles and lift her head away from him so that she was again looking him directly in the eyes.
"Come on, kid," she said. "Shoot it way up in there. I'm waiting for you, kid."
She was no longer moving her hips but rather merely grasping his member and releasing it with the trained, soft-hard muscles of her vagina. As she did so she kept urging him:
"Come on, fuck me, kid ... Shoot it in me. Way up ... "
His release, already on the edge of eruption, exploded inside him, tore through his own body and seared into hers.
"Oh, yes, kid ... God, yes...."
The hot shot of his ejaculation seemed to weld them together for an impossible eternity.
There was nothing. The world was pink and he was in the dream again....
.... release ... sweet release and the hot caress of flesh on his chest ... wet hair warm and matted to his own and the shaft of his very soul embedded in soft and welcoming flesh ... her fragrance was over him and around him ... He was in the dark room again and he felt warm and wonderful and ... totally alive....
A car swished past.
He was afraid to open his eyes. He was afraid of the person he would see crouched over him, her breasts flattened to his chest, her breath sweet and heavy in his ear, her sexual parts satiated and exhausted, encompassing his own.
It was her voice--different somehow from the dream--that roused him.
"You're sure some good fuck, kid. You sure know how to hit all the right nerves, don't you, kid?"
"You hit a few yourself, you know."
She snuggled even closer to him, rolling her hips sensuously against him for a second as she sighed in complete contentment.
Another car swept past them. The sound brought them both back to reality.
"Shit," the girl said as she pulled off him. "If you and I get caught like this, in this state, there's no telling what's liable to happen."
"Tell me about it," he said sarcastically.
He slid behind the wheel and started the car. A moment later they were cruising at an even fifty-five along the highway.
"You better get your clothes on," he told her. "We've got to ditch this car. It belongs to a county sheriff."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Shit," she said as she slipped into her sweatshirt. "You are the craziest son-of-a-bitch I ever met. Pick me up and ask me to eat some old cunt's box before you even say hello, then we get into a goddamned daisy chain and dump the broad for no reason. Then you start fucking right beside a state highway and now you tell me you're driving some fuzz's car. Listen, buster, why don't you just let me out?"
"Are you kidding? After that piece of ass we just had? You must be off your head."
"I'd be off my head to stay with you." She slid one long leg into her jeans, squirmed on the seat and then clothed the other leg. She arched her hips high, pulled the pants- over her buttocks and buttoned the front. "Just let me out, kid, I'll go my way, you go yours, and we'll forget the whole thing."
"Look," he bargained, "I'll dump the car in the next town. We can ride out together. I mean, just you and me--"
"You and me!"
"Sure. What's wrong with that?"
"Wrong! Well, for one thing you're driving this stolen car...."
"I told you I'd get rid of it."
"And for another--"
"Yeah?"
"Oh, shit, kid. You're just a baby. I must be five years older than you."
"So what?"
"So what! I mean fucking's one thing, but.--"
"But you don't want. to be seen around with me, is that it?"
"Goddamn it, kid, you don't even care enough about me to ask my name."
"Never had time. What is it?"
"Stella. Stella Warton."
"Billy Joe Whyley."
"Hi."
Almost shyly they shook hands.
"Look," he said after a moment. "Let's get rid of .the car and sort of talk it over. I mean, you are a mighty good lay and I'd sure like to get in you again and not just sort of fade into the sunset and all."
She squeezed his hand and smiled. "Oh, shit," she said. "All right, but only for a while."
As they drove across the barren country, she told him she was a college student trying to see as much of the United States as she could on her vacation and he told her the story of how he had come to be in jail and how he got out. He also told her how he managed to make his living off older women.
Instead of appearing shocked when he told her the information, she seemed genuinely excited.
"I told you I was bi," she said. "You know there's nothing greater than doing it with a guy and a broad at the same time. I mean that bit this afternoon was one thing with you slamming it to me while I was eating the sheriff's wife, but it's just as good when I'm sucking a guy off and some girl with an educated mouth is eating me. I tell you, that's the most. Look, if you're good at nicking your marks, maybe I could help you. You know sort of play your sister or something."
"I don't know...."
"Let me tell you something, Billy," she said. "I've been around a few years longer than you and believe me, I've done my share of fucking and sucking and playing all sorts of games. People are funny, Billy. There's not too many will admit it, but they all have some sort of kink."
"Kink?"
"Yeah. Everyone has some sort of a sex fantasy. You're probably meeting women who want to fuck their sons. Maybe I could help you with those that like to watch or really turn on to another woman. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."
The idea didn't sound that bad, he thought. Besides, if he couldn't find what he was really after, he knew he could go back to Stella's lazy, sensual kind of love. He wondered what it would be like in a bed instead of squatting in a car and the thought sent a hot shiver of excitement scurrying through him.
He parked the car on a small side street in the next town and, with Stella beside him carrying her backpack, walked along the dusty main street. He didn't have a clear-cut idea of exactly how he would meet the person he was after, possibly because he had never had a partner in the venture before, but then he saw the drugstore and with the newspaper rack in front of it. Stella took the reins from him.
"You want a widow, don't you?" she said. "Some woman alone?"
"Yeah."
She pulled a local newspaper from the rack. The Murfreesvile Weekly Crier. "This should have a list."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Obituaries," she said.
"I don't want any eighty or ninety year old broad--"
She walked into the drugstore, paid the counter clerk the five cents for the paper, then stepped back into the sunlight.
"You are clever, Billy Joe, but you are a pretty stupid shit, too," she said. "Look here...." She opened the paper to the list of obituaries. "See, it lists their ages and their survivors. Now with a man seventy-five survived by a wife and two children, one of them named Mrs. Shitkicker, you're out of luck, right?"
"Right."
"But look here. Robert Edward Bugwine, age forty-seven. Died in a reaper accident. Survived by his wife Edna. See? No kids and I'll bet you Edna's not a minute older than forty-two if she's that old."
"Hey," he said. "You are pretty smart!"
Within no more than an hour and a half, they had collected all the information they needed about the late Robert E. Bugwine and his widow Edna. Robert had come from out of state, had met Edna here in town and when her parents had died had moved into their old house on the Thorndyke Road. He had been killed a week previously and the poor widow just turned forty had been left alone--although there were folks in town who thought she was happy to see Robert Edward depart. He had been, so some of their informants said, a rather strange man. Before he met with his accident, he held the reputation of being the county's local Don Juan.
Meeting the widow Bugwine was easy. They just walked to her door and announced that they were Robert Edward's cousins just passing through and wanted to look him up.
Billy Joe noticed no trace of sadness as the slender blonde with the haunted expression in her blue eyes informed him that her husband had been dead for a week. With true southern hospitality, however, she invited them into the house and offered what they were after, the promise of dinner and beds for the. night.
It was Stella who shifted the conversation after dinner to what could lead to profit.
Edna started to tell them about separate sleeping arrangements, but Stella smiled. "Why," she said. "That's mighty kind of you, Mrs. Bugwine, but we always sleep in the same bed."
"But he's your brother, ain't he?" the blonde woman said.
"Oh, yes," Stella said.
"But--"
"But what, Mrs. Bugwine?"
"Well, I mean, that's not right ... I mean sleeping in the same bed with your own kin and all."
"It ain't?"
"Well, what if ... I mean...."
"Oh, don't you worry, ma am, she said. "Besides it shouldn't bother you. I mean, I heard Uncle Robert was doing quite a bit of playing around himself."
Her lips pursed. "Men are different from ladies," Edna Bugwine said.
"I heard he sometimes even brought some of his women right here."
"Well--"
"You watched him now, didn't you? You watched him sticking his cock into them and fucking them? Come on, Edna. You can tell us."
"Well, I--"
"And you liked to, too, I'll bet. Hell, we're no different, are we, Billy Joe?"
He shook his head.
"'Course we are different in a way."
"Y'are?"
"I mean you could watch old Uncle Robert, but he was mean, wasn't he? He gave it all to his girlfriends and didn't leave anything for you. We'll be different. We'll let you look all you want and touch, too, if you like."
Billy Joe listened to the strange conversation and watched Edna Bugwine's widening eyes. Her tongue slipped out to wet her dry lips and he noticed a slight tremor in her hands. He had no idea how Stella had discovered the secret about the dead Robert or how he had treated his wife, but she seemed instinctively to have known that the woman had been forced to watch her husband commit adultery and then had been denied her own satisfaction.
Stella rose from the kitchen table where they all had been sitting and placed one arm affectionately around Edna Bugwine. "Bet it's been one hell of a long time since you felt a man's body against you."
"Oh, my...."
"That's all right," she soothed as she led the older woman around the table to where Billy Joe was sitting. "Billy Joe here's got a real nice pecker."
"Oh, I--"
"Show her what you got, Billy Joe."
Obediently, he opened the fly of his prison jeans and pulled his manhood out.
The widow Bugwine recoiled as if she had been hit in the face with a wet rag.
"That's all right," Stella kept saying. "That's all right. You go right on ahead and touch it if you like."
The slender woman looked first from Stella to Billy Joe and then back again. The haunted expression in her blue eyes changed to shock and then to doubt and then a certain understanding flashed in them and she seemed almost childishly grateful.
"You mean it?" she said to Stella.
"Sure."
"You sure you won't mind?" she said to Billy Joe.
"Why, ma'am," he said. "It would be my pleasure."
Like a wary trainer reaching out to caress a poisonous cobra Edna Bugwine inched her fingers down to Billy Joe's lap until they made fleeting contact with the head of his penis. Quickly she gasped and pulled away. "Oh, my," she said again.
Billy Joe watched as Stella slowly moved so that she was able to reach up and cup one of Edna's breasts.
"Oh, my," the widow said again.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Stella said. "I mean, I'll bet it's been a long time since you had your titties stroked. Go ahead ... enjoy yourself...."
"But ... what would ... What would folks say?"
"Nobody's going to see." Stella kept massaging the older woman's breasts. "Nobody's going to know a thing. Come on. Let's all have us some fun and I promise you, Edna, you're going to have the thrill of your lifetime."
"Oh, my," Edna said again. Billy Joe rose from the chair and followed as Edna Bugwine, still with Stella gently caressing her breasts, led the way out of the kitchen, through the parlor and up the narrow flight of stairs to a rather large bedroom strangely furnished with two double beds.
"Hey," Billy Joe said when he saw the strangely furnished room. "How come you got two beds?"
Edna sighed. "It was Robert E.'s idea," she said. "That one over there's mine. That's where I'd sleep and the other one's ... the other one's where he ... where he...."
"Where he what?" Stella asked. "Tell us what he did."
"Oh, terrible, terrible things."
"Like what?"
"Oh, he'd like to get the darkey girls in here, and the younger the better. He liked them just when they were beginning to form out and he'd teach them all sorts of things."
"But you watched, didn't you?"
"Oh, my," she said. "I couldn't help it. It was terrible. He'd make them take him in their mouth. Once he got two of them at one time and he came over here and grabbed me and made me watch with him while they--while they--"
"Ate each other?" Stella said.
"Oh, my, it was terrible."
As they talked Stella continued to massage the widow's chest and was now running her gentle fingers over her slim stomach and down almost to the top of her 'venus mound. Gently as she spoke, she eased the older woman to the bed so that she was sitting on the edge.
"Bet it got you all hot, watching like that," she said.
"Oh no, I--"
"How'd you like to get all hot again?"
"Well--"
"You can watch Billy Joe and me. We'll do anything you like."
"You will ?"
"Sure." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and in one sweeping gesture pulled her sweatshirt over her head. As she began to remove her jeans she turned to Billy Joe.
"Let her jerk you off a little, kid. She hasn't felt any cock for a long time."
"Sure," he said. "Here." He took Edna Bugwine's right hand and placed it on his penis.
The widow touched him shyly, gently for a second. Then, with fierce intensity, grabbed his flesh. "Oh," she said. "That feels good ... Real good."
Stella was naked now standing before the older woman. She took her left hand and gently placed it on her own right breast. "Like that?" she asked.
"Oh, my ... yes...."
"What do you want us to do for you, Edna? I mean, we're obliged for your dinner and all."
Edna Bugwine cast her eyes down but kept her grip on Billy Joe's penis and the pressure of her left palm on Stella's nipple. "I know it's terrible," she stammered at length. "I know I shouldn't. But I do like to watch. I guess Robert taught me that. I just love to watch. You just do whatever you do and I'll stay over here on this bed and just watch."
CHAPTER TEN
As Billy Joe and Stella moved to the room's extra bed, Edna Bugwine pulled the shades and then snapped on a single dim light. The room was old, but pleasantly furnished. It was large enough so that the two beds did not crowd it.
Stella was completely naked. Billy Joe was still completely clothed except for his open fly. Bewildered, but still somehow trusting Stella, he slipped out of his jeans and shirt and rolled onto the bed.
Immediately Stella was with him, her lips pressed to his ear.
"You watch her," she said, "and you give me the greatest little old fuck you ever gave anybody. We're going to turn her on like she's never been turned on--ever."
"But how did you...."
"Never mind, dummy. Just do what I tell you."
She rolled on her back and spread her legs wide apart for him.
As he knelt between her widely spread thighs, he feasted his eyes on her beautifully formed, youthful body. In all his past experience, he had known only women past thirty-five, women like the widow Bugwine who now sat Indian fashion on the other bed and gazed at him and Stella in lusty, almost depraved, fascination. Her eyes were wide and her lips hung slack in anticipation of what she was about to see and hear and experience.
He, however, had never seen a young woman like Stella naked before. The two motorcycle Mamas in the back of the old pick-up truck almost a week before had perhaps been young in years, but their experiences, the roughness of their lives, had aged them long before their times.
Stella was a vision of sheer feminine sensuality lying before him. Her eyes were open and her lips was smiling an invitation. Her widespread legs gave his eyes total access not only to the tuft of soft, almost crimson, red hair that covered her womanhood but also to the slit of lighter pink which the hair could not conceal. Despite her casualness, he knew, she was eager for his entry and would welcome him with already wet and eager flesh.
Still he wanted to savor her from a certain distance. Her stomach was not soft and used like that of the women he had previously known. It was covered in firm, taut flesh and under the skin he could see the lines of well-toned muscles, rising up to breasts that did not lose their pert and arrogant shape despite the fact that she was lying on her back.
"Well," she whispered softly. "Don't take forever looking."
"I like the way you look," he said.
She squirmed slightly so that she could grasp his hardening member in her right hand. "You could touch a little, too," she said.
Before he knew what mad obsession had seized hold of him, he moved toward her, but he did not sink his now hard flesh into the gaping sexual wound between her legs. Instead, he straddled her and climbed up over her until the firm hardness of her nipples was against his buttocks and his penis was resting against her chin.
"What the hell are you--"
"You want it, don't you?" he commanded. "Take it. Take the whole thing and suck on it, honey. Suck on it."
She twisted her head sideways. "No, we're supposed--"
He was talking through his teeth now. Something had seized him and he couldn't tell what. Yet he was absolutely powerless to refuse the only half heard command.
"Suck it!" he said again as he forced himself into her mouth and began to thrust his hips back and forth rolling easily against the firm soft flesh of her breasts that cushioned him.
He glanced toward the other bed. In the dim light, he could make out the almost ghostly form of Edna Bugwine and as Stella moved her lips and tongue over his penis, as he thrust gently yet with firm and undeniable demand into her hot mouth, he watched the form on the bed uncross its legs and, like a phantom, move slowly until it stood erect.
As in the dream so many years ago, he heard the faint rustle of woman's clothing, the silken whisper of scented underthings floating gently to the rug and the caress of silk on flesh, then flesh on flesh.
The phantom moved from the bed as he moved himself in the mouth of the hot body under him. Then lips were on him and away from him ... soft fluttering and caressing. A tongue darted hot and wanting into his mouth and pulled away.
Flesh was against his face and long gentle fingers were behind his head pulling him against soft breasts with very long, very hard nipples.
From a thousand years away, he heard a woman s voice strangely familiar, yet still totally foreign, whisper:
"Suck them, honey. Do whatever you want."
He rolled his hips back and forth on Stella's breasts, heard her grunts of satisfaction below him and opened his mouth to receive the warm thrust of breast that pushed eagerly against it. At the same moment, a hand reached out for his, placed it on a long smooth thigh and drew it upward, upward toward a creamy mound of flesh that was already dank with wanting eagerness.
"Oh, suck it, honey!" he heard the soft voice say. "Oh, feel my gash."
It was the dream again. Every time he felt a mouth on him, he was back in the room with the strange shadow woman. Now it was beginning to form a reality.... It wasn't a dream at all, he knew. It was a memory of something very real that had happened to him some time ago when he had lived in that boarding house so far away.
Because he was the only young boy there, they had let him take the attic room, the one that on one else wanted. He had welcomed the idea of being alone because he didn't want to be a sissy and sleep in the same room with his mother like a little baby.
But one of the women in that boarding house--one of the older women--had come into the room.... That was the dream. That was what he was trying to shut out of his mind. That's what he felt guilty about whenever he had the strange vision.
His thoughts of the past mingled with the reality of the present. He rolled easily on Stella's firm breasts, slid his hard member into her eagerly sucking mouth and felt the sweet warmth of her saliva on him as her tongue rolled around the head of his penis.
He sucked greedily on Edna's breasts letting his own tongue savor the demanding flesh, letting his ears tune to the music of contented gasps above him as his fingers slid into the dripping wet flesh of wide and eager vagina probing for the little eager knob of clitoris within that would soon bring its owner to spasming jolts of maddening, yet quieting ease.
That's the way it had been in that room so long ago. Again, as he felt the tingling and arousing sensations of the present he remembered the details of the past....
...It was dark and he was safe and asleep but then he had been awakened by the door opening. There had been an instant of light coming into the room behind the shadow of a woman.... He could see the light passing through her nightdress, revealing the outlines of her legs and the fact that, under the thin gossamer threads of material, she was completely naked....
...He could not see her face.... Then the door closed and they were alone in the totally dark room ... For just a second, no more, he was afraid until he heard the movement of feet and smelled familiar perfume.... He realized he knew the woman.... realized he had nothing to fear because he had smelled that familiar aroma hundreds of times in the boarding house....
...Then movement ... and he knew somehow instinctively why she had come to the loft room and what she really wanted of him. And he knew too that she somehow felt wrong about the thing she was to do ... He wanted to help her because something intuitive told him what she wanted ... that's why he had concocted the dream....
...He had pretended to be asleep ... He had been awake all that time ... with his eyes closed as with gentle fingers she lifted the covers from him.... He had felt the intensity of her gaze as she had stared at his penis....
...Then impossible sensations shivered through his entire being as the dark shadow of woman caressed his genitals and brought them to firm and ready erection awaiting a climax he could never have possibly imagined....
Back to the reality ... Feeling Stella's hot mouth on him ... sucking the eager nipple in his mouth and fingering the wet folds of flesh dripping onto his palm and wrist.
The phantom woman had lowered her head to his groin ... had taken his young, hard penis in her mouth and had gently and tenderly licked and kissed and sucked on him and he knew she had pulled him to his first beautiful-terrible release.
And he knew, too, that there had been something awful ... something terrible ... about it that he didn't want to know. He felt himself being drawn again to that same horror and he knew he couldn't let that happen ... not that way.
Violently, he pulled out of Stella and opened his eyes. The room was lighted sufficiently to see her face clearly and to see Edna now completely naked standing beside him. He felt he had been cheated and wronged. Somehow, the dream coming to him had made him think that Stella was really some sort of a monster trying to cheat and humiliate him in front of the poor widow Bugwine.
He wanted to embarrass Stella, humiliate her and show her what he really thought of her.
Still sitting with the hard pressure of his buttocks on her breasts, he took his mouth from Edna's breast and withdrew his wet hand from her eager groin. He grasped his hard, almost exploding member in his right fist and began to pump rapidly up and down immediately in front of Stella's face.
She opened her eyes. "What the hell do you think you're--"
She didn't finish. The release he cried for came to him and with the sweet pleasure of it, the jet of his semen spurted forth in a great stream of white that spattered on Stella's face, hit her in the eyes and dribbled over her nose and chin.
For a moment she looked shocked and surprised, then she smiled and licked her chin. Finally, understanding came to her and her smile became a hard line.
She looked up to him, her eyes cold. "You didn't have to do that," she said.
"I wanted to. I don't know what came over me."
"Fuck you," she said. "Fuck you, Billy Joe. That's twice you've fucked all over me, got your own jollies and then just screwed away. Well, it's the last time, you hear. You'll never get another chance to shoot off your jizz in my face!"
She rolled her body convulsively with sufficient force to throw him off her and send him sprawling off the bed and onto the floor. When he regained sufficient command of himself to shake his head and crawl to his hands and knees he saw what he had suspected he might.
The two women were twined together on the bed groaning and caressing each other's bodies as their hands pawed their flesh and their lips caressed and experimented with one another.
They moved as if by instinct as Billy Joe watched in rapt fascination. Easily, as if programmed for none other but the very act they were about to perform, they twisted and turned slightly so that Edna Bugwine's head rested against Stella's groin and Stella's red head was pressed firmly against the genuine blonde hair of the older woman.
They both gasped at the same moment as tongues extended simultaneously and found the secret folds of flesh and the nerves that only women knew how to caress and fondle to the ultimate peaks of sensuous abandon.
The room seemed filled with the smell of women and the sounds of abandoned passions as the two bodies twined together. The springs of the old bed creaked and the two bodies sighed in unison.
Billy Joe rose to his feet. Again, he knew, he had been had. Stella might have freed him from having to stay with Mae for the rest of his life, but she had also aced him out of a mark. He didn't have a dime in his pocket, the only clothes he had belonged to a jail in another county, and the widow, Bugwine--the woman he had hoped might help him--was twined in the arms of a young woman who would surely make a greater profit of the association than he would.
Still, there was something very satisfying about the scene being played before him. Each was licking greedily at the other's groin and in turn being brought to the very peaks of passion by the tongue that licked and quivered within her own most delicate flesh.
He was pretty sure they would try to prolong their ecstasy as long as they possibly could and because he was sure of their own innermost needs, he was able to form a plan of his own.
Robert Edward Bugwine had only died a week before. There was a chance that he just might have left some of his clothes behind when he got buried. Also there was a slim chance that some of those clothes just might fit Billy Joe Whyley.
As the two women writhed in abandoned passion licking each other's labia and stroking each other's flesh, pressing hard and eager breasts to each other's stomachs, Billy Joe tiptoed through the room to the closet, gently eased the door open and peered inside.
He was in luck. There were several shirts and slacks and coats hanging within....
Instantly after trying the first one on, he forgot about Robert Edwards' coats. They would make him look more like an ape than a man. But with the slacks he was in luck. They fit perfectly. He slipped into one pair, pulled two more from their hangers and grabbed a handful of shirts.
While the women still grunted together on the bed, he tiptoed downstairs. In the kitchen, he found a paper bag. He put on one shirt which didn't look bad as long as he kept the collar open and rolled up the sleeves. He slipped the other three he had stolen along with the two pairs of slacks into the brown paper bag and started out the back door.
Only when he had descended two steps did he suddenly remember he had absolutely no money at all.
Hell, he thought, that damned dyke's going to get hers from the widow lady. I just better get mine from her.
He crossed the room to where Stella had thrown her knapsack when they had come in earlier, rummaged through it until he found what looked like a curled up money belt.
He was in luck. It contained almost seven hundred dollars!.
"Jesus!" he said aloud. "Jesus sweet Christ on that old wooden cross!"
He started to put the entire amount in his pocket, then stopped, realizing that such a theft would probably cause him more trouble in the long run than it would be worth. Besides, he thought, she hadn't been all that bad for him. She'd gotten him rid of Mae Snorlin and given him a physical experience like he had never had in the past. Besides, she had almost made him see the reality of the constantly recurring dream.
No, he decided, even if she did like to wallow around in the hot wet flesh of other women, she wasn't all that bad. Besides, didn't he like to do the same?
He put the money back in the belt and, except for seven dollars, replaced everything just as he had found it.
A moment later he was standing outside the back door of the house listening to the sounds of southern night and something else. From above him, he could hear groans and sighs and then heavy gasping breathing.
"Oh, my," he heard the widow Bugwine gasp. "Oh, my heavens."
Stella whispered something but he could not make out the words.
"Oh yes, my dear," Edna said. "Oh yes, you may. You stay here as long as you like, my child, and you do anything you please."
Billy Joe Whyley walked under the trees outside the back porch and turned toward the town's main road about a half mile 'away. He was better off, he thought. Stella could have her widow and her sex the way she really wanted it. He was looking for something else.
What, exactly, he wasn't quite sure, but he knew it had something to do with the lie he had told for months. He had to get to Charlottesburg. He knew somehow that the secret lay there.
His mother wasn't dying. She'd been dead for years. But there was something in Charlottesburg--something in the loft room of an old rooming house that held the secret he had been looking for, for so long. He knew he had to get there and find out the truth no matter how painful that truth might be.
Despite the moonless night he walked with a brave new determination, toward the highway.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
He met Martha Gordon three days later. He had used almost all his money and was sleeping in the soft, plowed earth of a peach orchard trying to hide as much as possible from those who might become suspicious. Suddenly he was awakened by a hard and very unpleasant pressure against his Adam's apple.
He looked up and nearly fainted away again. He was looking along the top of a double-barreled twelve or fourteen gauge shotgun that ran up to the not unattractive, square-jawed face of a very determined woman.
"Well?" the woman demanded.
"Well, what?" he stammered.
"Don't play games with me, Bo," the woman said. "This here's my property. My orchard. I don't take too kindly to poachers around here."
"I wasn't poaching, ma'am. Honest. I just come off the road to get some sleep."
She took a pace backward and motioned for him to rise to his feet. As he did so he noticed she was a woman of perhaps forty with a trim athletic figure obviously used to lots of exercise. Her dark hair was un-lined with grey. It swirled like an ebon cloud around her arrogant face.
"What's your name, Bo?" she demanded.
"Whyley, ma'am. Billy Joe Whyley."
"You have any money?"
"I got a dollar--"
"Want work?"
"I guess so."
She prodded him with the shotgun. "You get on up to the house there," she nodded toward a huge white building just beyond the line of orchard. "Get yourself a basket and start picking these peaches."
It was certainly better than getting blown apart with a shotgun. Almost gratefully, he scampered through the orchard toward the house. His plan, if he consciously had made one, involved getting one basket, returning to the orchard and working his way through the trees toward the highway, then just moving on.
He would have followed it just that way if he hadn't looked up to his first peach tree and seen the bare legs of a young woman. He followed their alabaster smooth flesh over calves and knees, up to smooth thighs and found he was looking through the opening of a pair of denim shorts to the flash of white panty that covered what he was sure must be the softest, most welcoming lovemound in the entire United States.
He was just about to speak when he was prodded forward by Martha Gordon's shotgun.
That day was a horror. He didn't even want to count how many bushels of peaches he picked. Later, when he staggered to the house all he could think about was collecting his wages and somehow getting back on the highway.
Martha Gordon was standing at the kitchen door. She didn't wait for him to speak. "You get cleaned up," she ordered. "We'll have dinner in half an hour."
Mystified, but too exhausted to think clearly, he stumbled to the room she indicated, took a hot, pain-erasing bath in the huge tub and changed into his last clean shirt and trousers. A moment later, he stepped out of the room and met an ancient black woman who led him to a dining room. The elegantly furnished chamber looked as if it had been taken from a moving picture about the Civil War.
The mahogany table was long and on it rested two high silver candelabra. Martha Gordon sat at one end of the table. The black woman seated Billy Joe at the opposite end. From where he sat he could not really see all of Mrs. Gordon because of the candelabra, but almost immediately she began to talk, his experience told him exactly what was on her mind.
"I have been waiting for you," she informed him.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Somehow I knew you would come during picking time."
"Really?"
"I have certain intuitions, you might say. That's exactly why I pushed you away from Ruth."
"Ruth?"
"Ruth is my daughter, young man. The girl you saw in the tree. We live alone here trying as best we can to maintain some of the rather fragile standards of better days.
"No men around?"
"Colonel Gordon has gone to his final parade."
"Dead?"
"Yes."
"Oh?"
Silently as a ghost, the black woman served them both and then disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen.
"Let's not play childish games, young man. You can hardly be that stupid. I'm a mature woman with fairly exacting--perhaps even peculiar--tastes. You are a young and attractive man obviously without a place to sleep or money to spend for one. I will pay you well for your services."
"How long you want me to stay around?"
"Until I tire of you or your ability to satisfy me."
Billy Joe was thinking of the young woman he had only partially seen in the peach tree. He wondered why she was not at the table, but he realized that the longer he could remain at this strange house, the more chance he would have of seeing her again.
"Okay," he said.
"Fine," Mrs. Gordon said. "I don't know how much you know about women--women who are used to rather exacting pleasures and then through circumstances are denied those pleasures--but I will instruct you in how to please me. If you do, in fact, please me, you will be well rewarded after we pick the last of the peaches tomorrow. If you don't...." She shrugged.
There was something ominous, something macabre and threatening about the woman that Billy Joe didn't like, but again he thought only to make the most of his strange situation and then go as soon as he could. Still, he wanted to ask her about her daughter but some form of intuitive fear told him any questions regarding the girl would be less than welcome.
They finished the meal in silence and then sipped coffee. Finally, Mrs. Gordon spoke.
"Come," she said as she pushed her chair back. "We shall have a far more pleasant dessert in the master chambers...."
He followed her as she led the way through a magnificent foyer and up a wide flight of sweeping stairs that curved to an inside balcony. Amazed at the grandeur of the house, he was also struck by the fact that it was not in the best of repair, but he said nothing as she led him up the stairs, down the length of balcony and through a huge door.
They stood in complete darkness for a long moment. Then she shut the door behind them and after many seconds, flicked on lights.
The huge chamber was dimly illuminated by a wash of blue and red light which gave it a rich and sensual glow. Yet there was something decadent about it as well. There was something unreal and perverse about the atmosphere.
As his eyes accustomed to the dimness, he distinguished the outlines of a huge canopied bed, the four posts of which were statues of naked men and women in twisted and erotic poses. The far wall of the room was covered in thick velvet drapes and the chamber smelled of sensuously perfumed incense.
"Do you like my little chamber?" Mrs. Gordon asked.
"Well ... I...."
"You will," she said. "Come...."
With a firm, demanding pressure, she grasped his wrist and led him toward the bed. As he neared the great mattress he saw that the inside top of the canopy was -lined with mirrors, but before he could comment, she spoke.
"I want you to take your clothing off ... all of it," she said. "then you will lie on the bed and I will touch you."
Billy Joe shrugged. It takes all kinds, he thought as he pulled his shirt tail out and unzipped his trousers. A moment later, he was absolutely naked lying on his back in the huge bed. Above him he could clearly see his own reflection.
Martha Gordon stood beside the bed. Her eyes were wide, feasting on his naked form.
"You have a well-formed body," she said. "One that could give and take a thousand pleasures."
He reached out to touch her leg.
"Don't!" she snapped. "Don't dare to lay your hands on me."
She stood glowering at him for what seemed like an eternity. Then her face relaxed slightly. "It is I," she finally said, "I who have waited too long for a young and masculine body. It is I who will do the touching. I will caress every part of you in my own way and as you feel the sensations I will give to your mind and flesh, as you watch my hands in the mirror above you, you will suffer unbearable urges. Then I will watch you as you squirm for release in my flesh, but you must not touch me. You must not touch my body until you have my permission."
He nodded in agreement as she leaned over him almost brushing his face with her covered bosom. She flicked a switch at the top of the bed. The room was filled with strange musical sounds played on instruments he had never heard. There was the illusion of human gasps and sighs and the slappings of flesh on flesh as though a hundred other couples were with them in the chamber sharing their passions and their flesh in barely controlled abandon.
She flicked another switch and the dim red and blue lights in the room seemed to move. The illusion was a series of flickering shadows as though the chamber were lit by blue candlelight. The twisted shapes of the naked shadows that formed the posts of the great bed seemed to move in sensuous abandon. The illusion was one of a great orgy in which flesh twisted on flesh and lip pressed tightly to lip.
"You see," he heard her voice from the distance. He could not see her now, there was only her shadow, somehow menacing, yet still promising a strange reward. "It will be pleasant. Hear my lovelies licking one another. They like the taste of sweet flesh. They like to feel a man's rigid hardness in their fingers. You see, you are looking at my lights and hearing my sounds and you are rising hard and firm to my very special occasion."
In the flickering dimness, her shadow moved. He realized she was stripping out of the long dress she had worn at the dinner table. But her movements were elaborate, almost ritualistic as her lean body swayed from side to side.
A moment later she stepped from complete shadow into the flickering light beside the bed.
"I'm beautiful," she said. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"
He grunted.
"Don't you want to touch my flesh?" she teased.
Again he grunted.
Actually, he thought, she was a fairly good-looking woman. Her body was taut and lean and well-muscled for her age, but he had seen many bodies before hers. He was more fascinated by her movements than by her mere appearance.
"But you must not touch my flesh," she whispered. "Only I can touch myself. See...."
She ran her hands over her hips and stomach and lifted the undersides of her breasts. She murmured soft words of passion to her own flesh as she lifted both nipples high and extended her tongue to touch first one and then the other.
She swayed beside the bed and, as she caressed herself in the flickering blue and red light, she stared down at him. "You are hard," she said. "You want your hard male flesh in my soft cradle of passion, but first I must be free of my own needs. It has been a long time ... a long time since I have had my satisfaction."
She swayed back and forth beside the bed as Billy Joe watched in absolute amazement. He could not understand what pleasure she was really getting from her performance. He looked around the room. The illusion was still there of hundreds of couples joining in depraved sexual abandon. The music, although low and scarcely audible, had an intensity to it that seemed to play directly on the libido.
He turned back to where she still stood beside the bed. For the first time he noticed that she held a long and thick artificial penis in her right hand.
"This...." she said to him. "You may touch this. Feel it." She thrust it toward him allowing him to run his fingers over the flesh-lined plastic. It was larger than a normal man both in its length and thickness.
"Now...." she continued. "Now I will look at your body and cool myself with this weapon of love."
He saw her squat slightly, noticed that the lips of her vagina were already glistening with the wet drops of her highly aroused passion and then stared in amazement as inch by slow inch she pushed the shaft of the artificial penis higher and higher into her body.
Her teeth were tightly clenched either in pain or complete ecstasy and her eyes were narrowed as she stared at him. "You see," she kept repeating, "you see how big it is. How my flesh grasps it and pulls it into me. You see how I can have my pleasure and watch you too."
"Oh, sure," he managed.
"Now...." She took a pace toward the bed so that she was standing just beside it. "You do it. You push it in me and rub me."
"Me?"
"Yes. Yes, but you must not touch my flesh, only the shaft. And when I order you to stop, you must stop immediately. Do you understand?"
"Sure," he said. He rolled on his side and grabbed the huge thing which protruded slightly from her vagina. He shoved it deep inside her, felt her gasp of mingled pain and pleasure and then withdrew it. He shoved again, this time pressing the top of the instrument high up against her more sensitive parts.
She grunted.
He pulled it back and shoved into her again--in and out and in and out. And with each thrust, she swayed before him threatening to fall and crying out in sounds close to--if not actually like--pain.
Her breath came in short puckered gasps. He knew he was bringing her to the peak of pleasure which, in her own strange way, she was striving for.
But then with abrupt suddenness, she pulled away from him. He held the artificial penis in his hand and she was standing about two feet from the bed smiling 'in a strange, almost demented, way down at him.
"Oh no," she said. "Oh no. I will not orgasm that way. No. I must touch you first. I must plate my hands and my juices on every part of your body before I climb to the peaks of personal pleasure meant only for me."
A moment later she had crawled onto the bed. She was kneeling at the very foot of the bed caressing his feet. In the mirror above him he could see her hands touching the soles of his feet and then her head lowered and she was actually licking his feet, sucking his toes and making little ripples of impossible pleasure scurry up his leg and gently bombard his already aching groin.
As she flicked her tongue over his toes and between them, as she licked the soles of his feet and ran her long fingers over the insides of his calves, she occasionally would pull away from him.
"You see," she would say. "You understand now."
But he didn't understand any more than that she was an extremely strange woman who enjoyed getting her sexual satisfaction in a very weird way.
Yet she kept licking his feet. Then slowly moved her oral ministrations over their arches and to his ankles. Her fingers inched higher along the lines of his calf as she kept repeating, "You see, now. You understand how it is."
Finally, he said, "No. No, I really don't."
She lifted her head. She stared at him a long time before she spoke. "Look up there." She indicated the mirror above the bed. "See for yourself. You are at my mercy. You are my slave and I am going to caress and lick every part of your beautiful, young, male body. Then I am going to devour you with passion so that your thrills will be my thrills and you will know my desires. This time, I will lick and caress you and next time you will know how it is done--how it must be done--for me. You see," she murmured as her tongue again darted out to caress the inside of his right leg. "You see...."
He grunted. He understood about as much as he would ever understand about the strange Mrs. Gordon. He decided to lie back on the bed, let her lick and caress her way up his body and watch the contact of their reflections in the ceiling mirror.
She was a genius at prolonging sensation. Still insisting that he could not touch her with his hands, she licked and kissed her way slowly up his legs past his knees to the insides of his thighs. She had been licking and kissing for over a half hour before she was in a position to circle his groin with her head.
Still the insane rhythm of the erotic music filled the room. Still from a hidden tape or record came the sounds of empassioned sighs, strange gasps and exotic stringed instruments playing tunes that could only have been composed for wildly abandoned lovers.
Her head hovered over his erect member and he looked down his own body to see her gazing at it but she neither touched it with her hand nor her mouth.
"Oh, no, my beautiful young boy-man," she cooed as she looked at him. "Ah, no, my sweet slave of passion. That will be later. Then I shall show you through your own sensations how to care for and minister to my body, my body that will be burning in slow and scalding fire for your embrace. But not now, my pretty ... not now ... "
She brushed her lips down over the tight muscles of his abdomen, licked her tongue into his navel and slowly stroked and caressed every part of his torso, bringing him mini-spasms of pleasure so intense he found it difficult to keep his eyes open, to watch the moving images in the mirror above him which added yet another dimension of ecstasy to their coupling.
Then her face was next to his and she was whispering. "Still. You must lie perfectly still as I caress you and savor the sweet man smell of your lips and body."
Her lips and tongue were in his ear, then over his eyes. She crossed to his other ear and caressed his nose and mouth with her lips. She isolated parts of his face, never kissing him full on the mouth but rather taking a part of his upper lip, running her tongue under his nose and then moving to caress only the lower lip.
The wet erotic snake of her tongue slid over his chin and down to his neck, as her fingers ran gently over first one and then the other of his nipples.
Slowly, with absolutely torturous movements, she slid her head down again, licking his sides and his ribs, caressing his nipples with her mouth.
He had never been so thoroughly aroused in his lifetime without experiencing release. Every fiber of his being was tingling for primary sexual contact and yet there was something about her that actually did frighten him. He was convinced that if he did not obey her orders exactly--did not lie there perfectly motionless no matter what shivers of passion she sent scurrying through his nervous system--something unknown and horrid would surely happen to him.
Her mouth was on his abdomen now, licking, caressing as her palms slid over the muscles of his buttocks and thighs.
Then, suddenly as her tongue darted into his navel, he felt the intensity--the almost painful touch of her fingers just barely making contact with the underside of his shaft and exploring the flaccid skin of his scrotum.
He sighed in intense pleasure as she lifted her head away from him so that she could look down at him. "Oh, no, my sweet beautiful boy-man," she said. "Oh, no, you must not move. Now we are coming to the final scene of this part of our drama. Now, I am going to show you everything a woman can do to a man if he is her absolute slave."
Her fingers kneaded the flesh of his scrotum. There was a cruel intensity to their pressure, yet he realized she was being very gentle. It was the threat behind her movements - the feeling that if he violated her wishes in any way--she might, quite literally, tear him apart.
"Yes," he gasped ... yes...."
"Yes, my sweet, pretty with your hard, hard manhood waiting for its perfection. Let me show you ... you'll understand then. You'll understand then...."
Her hands slid along the insides of his thighs and caressed his scrotum. He closed his eyes. He lay back on the soft and welcoming sheets of the bed and there was nothing in the world but sensation--pure, uncluttered, sexual sensation.
The music throbbed in his brain. He heard the sighs and heavy breathing of a thousand couples wallowing in euphoric abandon. There was a swaying blue and red light and a safe and sweet woman smell in the room.
Somehow, he knew even as she was touching him with her hand she was gazing at him planning ... eagerly lusting....
And it was there again ... the room in Charlottesburg ... dark and warm ... with erotic music coming from the club across the street ... and the flashing blue and red of the neon sign.... It was there again more clearly than it had ever been ... the door opening and the beam of light darting into the loft room....
...The shadow of a woman standing there for a moment ... and the light shining through her thin nightgown revealing her shadowed nakedness beneath....
...A heartbeat of fear and then the sweet, familiar smell he had savored so many times. The door closed and warm darkness blue and red neon from across the street and the flickering shadows from the great glass ball that revolved in the center of the dance hall there ... the groans and sighs of exhausted couples clinging to each other in a dancing marathon and the sexual sounds of a slow saxophone backed by wire brushes sliding sensuously over a snare drum....
...The soft shuffle of feet on the floor and the long moment of waiting for what he knew would happen yet what he could never have known.... The opening of his eyes and seeing only the shadow ... knowing somehow who owned the shadow and knowing he had to be asleep.., had to remain unknowing ... throughout what was to happen....
...Now it was exactly the same as it had been then so many years ago.... The woman's smell in the room and the flashing lights....
He opened his eyes just once and saw her shadow and the twined shadows behind her of the erotic bedposts. Then he closed his eyes.
It was the dream again....
...The tender touch of a woman's fingers on his arousing manhood ... The soft sigh and the.... increased tempo of her breathing over him ... fondling and caressing ... feeling the tingling of his aroused flesh as it responded eagerly to a gentle but greedy touch ... a touch that could not be denied....
...The zephyr of fresh air that scurried over his bare stomach and then ... then....
...The impossible heat of mouth and tongue sinking down ... sinking over his shaft.. . pulling it deep in the safe warm cavern of womanhood and sucking gently ... greedily on the aroused flesh....
His passion surging to arousal.... The music throbbing in his ears ... lights swimming through his head and soft groans and sighs.
...Then cold ... impossibly cold as the mouth left him ... Eyes opening again ... The shadow above him ... Gossamer folds of nightdress gone ... huge jutting breasts with brown-red nipples pointing to him ... woman's thighs gripping his hips in soft demand and again the wet ... This time the real wet of a welcoming channel built only to receive his member and surround it with moulten, hot, pink flesh craving for release of its own....
He lay still--absolutely still. The dream merged with the reality of the strangely erotic room and the almost crazed, demanding woman who had now straddled him and placed the tip of his hard shaft against her dripping labia. She sank down over him and, for an instant, he opened his eyes in terror dreading what he would see--who he would be coupled with in swaying abandon.
But he saw only the mirror above him and her coal black hair--the flashing lights like flickering pink and blue candles--a flame not of a taper but of the very body, the very soul of the room.
Her back was in the mirror as she straddled his body. Like a picture in slow motion, he watched above as she rode his shaft of manhood like an amazon of old cantering forth to battle on a great charger that would lead her to glory-and immortality.
"Yes," she murmured. "Just like that. Just like that ... and sleep ... in peace ... sleep...."
Even the words seemed to be the same as those of the long-ago dream.... Sleep ... the woman had said as she rode his hard member and filled his flesh with the want of her own ... sleep ... she had crooned almost as if singing a lullaby to him as her wet flesh churned like a human maelstrom over him ... rolling ...surging ... welling up in impossible encompassment so that not only his penis but his whole body seemed drowned in the moulten fire of flesh that craved satisfaction more than anything else in the world....
...Nothing was important but the strange all-new experience that was to come.... His body tingled and felt impossibly good all over... His arms and legs began to expand.... A great sensual balloon within him was filling with an unbelievable rising that would soon bring him to the very summit of the heavens and pour forth his very life into the hot flesh churning above him....
...Then he could feel it ... the knowing of the thing within him about to erupt ... And above him the single word ... "Yes ... Yes...." repeated in a droning monologue ... "Yes ... Yes...."
...Then the surge ... the release ... the abandon and the terror ... sweet heaven's gates opening and washing over him ... Breasts slapping soft against his chest ... the woman above him spasmed too ... His tingling ... throbbing ... spurting shaft could feel the spasms of her inner flesh as she gripped and released him ... gripped and released ... Her nipples flopped against his chest ... her breath came heavy in his ear....
..."Yes, Billy.., yes ... "
And then he knew ... the dream ... the reality....
"Oh, my God," he gasped. "Oh, my God!"
The answer came to him in a horrid flash of stark remembering coupled with the abandoned beautiful spurt of his release into the strangely depraved woman over him.
But could he blame her for her peculiarities, knowing now just who had walked into that loft room in Charlottesburg so many years ago?
Finally, he knew why he had always sought out older women--widows who would help him on his search that was as unreal as the lie he had built around himself. He knew at last the reality of the shadowed figure who had crept into the loft, who had tiptoed across the room each night for months, who had caressed his young manhood and then taken it into her mouth to bring it almost to the point of ejaculation and had then straddled it and thrashed against his supposedly sleeping body. He understood why they had both been lying, creating a dream in order to deny the stark horror of the reality. That shadowed greedy woman was not just an ordinary boarder in the cheap rooming house.
No.
He knew now. He also knew the dream was real, for in some strange way, the pattern of Mrs. Gordon's perverse room followed almost exactly the pattern of that loft so long ago. And, in some freakish way, every one of Mrs. Gordon's movements had been exactly like those of the phantom woman in his dream.
Only, he knew now, she was no phantom. That woman who had come to him then, who had brought him to first surging release and had returned night after night to give him release and to take her own satisfaction from his young flesh plunged deep inside her, was real. It was she who had created his pattern of sexuality based on older women--women like she had been at that time--
That phantom, that dream....
He shuddered.
She had been his own mother.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Although he stayed with Mrs. Gordon after the harvesting of the last peach, he became a completely unwilling visitor. For three days he worked in the orchards and for three nights she subjected him to the meticulous exactitude of her sexual demands. Where on their first night together she had required him to be the motionless slave, on the second, she reversed the procedure. She demanded that he tongue her feet and caress her breasts and lick the insides of her thighs as she had done with him the previous evening.
But even as he worked his tongue over her middle-aged flesh, he could think of nothing so much as escape. She in her own unique way--perhaps because she had been that person finally responsible for shattering the wall of mystery that hung for so long around his sexual dream of the past--became totally repugnant to him.
Yet he knew very well that he was more than just a slave in name. He was, quite literally, a prisoner in her crumbling house. Now that the peaches were harvested and off to market, he was fully aware of what his responsibilities were. He began to hate both her and himself and what he had to do to and with her.
So involved was he for four days with concocting any plan to escape, that he completely forgot about the young girl he had seen in the peach tree that first day. It was simply as if she had disappeared completely after Mrs. Gordon's order for him to move on.
Because he was preoccupied with plans for escape--because he knew that he was never out of Mrs. Gordon's sight long enough to even attempt the five hundred yard dash to highway and then the time necessary to wait there for a ride to stop for him--he waited and brooded. He was surprised on the fourth day when, while pacing back and forth through the huge but scantly furnished living room of the great house, he heard a slight sound like a hiss.
He turned, saw no one for a moment then, hearing the sound again, looked up and saw the same girl he had seen in the peach tree. She was leaning against a door to another room, apparently one that had at one time been the library. One finger was raised to her beautiful young mouth as the other hand beckoned him to follow her.
Without a word, she led him through the library, around to a flight of back stairs and up to a dimly lit corridor. A moment later they passed through a narrow door at the end of the corridor.
He was surprised to find himself again in the strangely furnished room where he and Mrs. Gordon had shared their sexual adventures for the past three nights.
"What--"
She placed one finger against his lips. "It's the only place she won't look for you," the girl said. "She'd never suspect you came here."
"Okay," he said suspiciously. "What do you want?"
"Out," the girl said. "I've got to get out of here. You could help me. I mean, what's it to you? You've got what you want. As long as you satisfy her weird little slave-master cravings, she'll do anything you like as long as you stay. I just want you to keep her occupied so I can get out."
"Why don't you just go?"
"Are you kidding? She'd never let me get away if she could help it. She's sick, don't you see. Crazy in the head."
"Sure, I know that, but what's she want with you?"
"I know all about what goes on in here." the girl said. "You're not the first one, you know. I've seen her go through the whole routine. It's always the same. She'll pick up someone who comes into the orchard just like you did. Then when she finds out there's no home or folks or anything like that--I mean once she makes sure, she plays her slave-master thing."
"And you want to get out. What about me?"
"I thought you liked the idea. I thought you were a little sick, too. I mean, you're the only one who hasn't complained."
"Look, I can't stand it," he told her. "Maybe we can get out together."
"How? She'll shoot you for a trespasser and if something happens to me, just say you did it to me before she killed you. She's still got friends in this county, you know. My daddy was a pretty important man."
"Never mind that," he told her. "You just go where you're supposed to go and make sure you meet me right in the downstairs hall tonight about half an hour after your mom and me finish dinner."
He formed his plan slowly as he and Mrs. Gordon ate their stately dinner. By now he knew that her daughter, Ruth, was under the guard of the single black woman who cooked for and served them. He also knew that he would enjoy doing what he had to do in order to escape the strangely psychotic Martha Gordon.
As had been their schedule for the past three evenings, he and Martha climbed the sweeping circular staircase immediately after dinner. The previous night she had told him to be her sexual slave and had caressed his body as she wanted him to caress hers this evening. There was no affection, no romance between them, only the strange woman's craving for erotic physical satisfaction. But for the first time in his life, Billy Joe Whyley found that a woman sickened him. He could barely stand the sight of her. His mind churned with guilt because of his knowing the truth of his recurring dream. He had come to the realization that he had never liked middle-aged women--had never really found them attractive. He had been trying to erase the past through them while at the same time being forced to couple with women who reminded him of his first experience--his own mother.
Tonight she was to play the role of his slave and he could play master at will. He was prepared for everything by the time she stripped completely naked for him and spread her legs and arms wide for him on the bed.
But the game he played was, he knew, in deathly earnest. One mistake and it could very easily mean his life.
It was to his own advantage that the very tools she had used on him the previous night were lying handily beside the huge bed for his own use--belts and the great artificial penis, straps and the soft leather whip that stung but did not hurt.
She had no suspicion of his real intentions as he tied her left leg to one of the bedposts. Indeed she suspected nothing as he tied the other leg and both her wrists so that she was spread-eagled on the great bed.
But where the night before she had straddled his face and made him lick her sexual parts until she came to writhing spasming orgasm, tonight he refused to perform a similar act with her. It was that moment when he was standing beside the bed that a look of angered understanding came to her black eyes.
"I showed you last night," she snapped. "You know what must be done."
"Sorry," he said. "This is your last time with me."
"You fool. You think I'm helpless, don't you? Hatti can hear me. She'll come the minute I call."
He reached down beside the bed and found the huge artificial member that she had used on herself their first night together.
"Here," he said as he held it in front of her. "Call on this!"
Brutally he thrust it between her teeth so that it acted as a monstrous gag. As she grunted against the pressure within her mouth and twisted against the leather bonds that bound her to the bed, he searched the room until he found the shotgun she had been holding when first they met.
Carrying the weapon, he scampered down the stairs.
Ruth was where they had agreed to meet, her eyes wide with terror. "Hatti. will tell her," she insisted.
Shotgun at the ready, he accosted the cook in the kitchen. A moment later Ruth had tied her securely to one of the chairs there and they scampered through the moonlight to the highway.
He tossed the shotgun into the orchard and a moment later flagged down a passing truck.
It was just after dawn when the driver let them out. They were miles from Charlottesburg, miles from all their yesteryears and on a highway in southern California.
They walked for a few miles until she announced that she wanted to stop.
"I mean for a couple of days," she said. "Let's go to a motel and just relax while we make some plans. I've got the money. Maybe together we could work something out."
It was in a small motel room just west of the California border that Billy Joe Whyley discovered the final piece to the strange jigsaw of his life and put it exactly into place with a perfect fit.
They had registered as Mr. and Mrs. Elkton telling the manager that they had stupidly left their luggage in the trunk of their car when it was towed away from an accident. Ruth paid for the room in advance and bought them both swimming clothes from the small shop across the street from the motel.
After a long refreshing swim, they came back to the room. Ruth sat on the bed and fluffed her long hair with one hand. "Well," she said to the wall. "We're both free. I've got about five hundred dollars but I don't know what to do."
"I sure as hell know what I'd like to do," he said.
She looked up to his face, then down to the bulge already beginning to show under his swimming trunks.
"I can't," she said almost sadly.
"Can't? Why?"
"I'm not built right. That's one of the reasons she trapped me there. She told me I was born freak-like, that I'd never be able to have anything to do with men. She was ashamed of me, her own daughter, not having the right parts."
"You look all right to me."
"Oh, I want to, but I'm a virgin. She showed me why. I've got a ... what do you call it? ... a membrane....
"I don't believe you," he said. "I think she just told you that."
Ruth Gordon was hardly a shy girl. She had grown up watching the strange happenings in the bed-dominated room where her mother played sexual games and she had always felt free and open about her body because she believed it had no sexual lure.
"Here," she said. "See for yourself."
Swiftly she stepped out of the bottoms of her bikini, revealing lush young hips and a sensuous 'venus mound covered with the softest, most gossamer hair Billy Joe had ever seen.
He took two hesitant paces across the room, staring directly at her womanhood for a long time before he eased her down to the bed and spread her vaginal lips wide with his thumbs.
Her genitals looked exactly like a woman's should, only for him there was a magnetic fascination to them. He could not resist the temptation to press his head down on her and lick out with an eager tongue in order to taste the sweet fragrance of her inner flesh.
"Oh, Billy," she cried out. "Oh, Billy."
Whether she was telling the truth about being unable to receive a man's organ in her own or not, he knew she certainly was capable of experiencing intense sensations on her delicate inner flesh.
He also knew that the very act of kissing and licking her young and eager body sent sensations through his own mind and body the like of which he had never before experienced or ever thought possible.
His tongue sank into the young hot folds of her budding womanhood, licked over sweet flesh and discovered the long erectile nipple of her clitoris.
He licked up and she sighed. He caressed his tongue downward and she gasped. He licked sideways and she cried out in ecstasy.
As he licked the sweet inner flesh between her widely spread legs, he reached up and lifted her bikini brassiere over her almost-hard breasts. He looked over her firm stomach to the pert hardness of young firm mounds and nipples and ran his fingers over their smooth flesh.
Never, even with the bisexual Stella, had he felt such sheer perfection of the female form. Never had he realized how infatuated he really was with youthful perfection and how much he really despised making sexual contact with older women whose bodies had been used and abused and often worn out long years before he had ever met them.
As he worked his tongue in the wet warmth of her widely eager and willing vagina he realized that she was rapidly coming to a climax. Her virgin body had never felt the caress of a man's penis or tongue and the searing pleasure he was giving her was, he knew, too much for her young body to resist.
He felt her fingers twine in the hair at the back of his head, felt her palms pulling his mouth even tighter to her flesh. Then her whole body seemed to snap and spasm at once.
He could feel the ends of her nerves thrashing like an unattended garden hose or a snapped high voltage wire--twisting and churning like a mythical snake committing suicide.
Her young flesh smashed against him and twisted sideways. She called his name and pulled his head tightly to her sexual parts. She would not let go!
For what seemed like pleasurable hours they remained clamped to one another, savoring flesh and sensation, emotion and soul.
Then slowly, they moved away from one another and lay quietly on the bed. Gently he removed her brassiere from above her breasts and then, when she asked him, slipped out of his swimming trunks.
"You're beautiful," he told her as his eyes caressed her young and sensuous form.
"So are you, Billy Joe. You know I've never seen a man before. I mean naked."
"We're all the same," he said.
"Oh no. I can't believe that. I just want to look at you. I want to run my hands all over you."
She laid one hand gently on his stomach and then turned to him, her face doubtful and very serious. "Billy Joe?" she said.
"Yeah."
"I know I can't ... I mean.... well, you know ... "
"That's only what she told you," he insisted. "Well, I'm afraid anyway," she said. "Will you show me things? I mean things like you just did. That felt real good when you kissed me there."
"Sure," he said.
"I'd sure like to make you feel good, too." She reached out shyly to grasp his still hard member. "Oh. That feels good. That feels so big and good."
"You bet."
"Let me suck on it, Billy Joe. Please...."
Without speaking, he eased her head over him. She looked into his eyes and then lowered her mouth to cover his penis. Her lips were warm and soft and her tongue was gentle. She was almost lazy over him as she circled her tongue around his delicate flesh.
He closed his eyes and savored the beautiful sensation of her flesh on his--her beautiful young breasts hanging over him so that as she licked his member he could caress their hard nipples and feel their firm flesh on his fingertips.
With his eyes closed all the world was dark and safe and beautiful and ... and there was no dream....
It was gone. It was as if the loft room in the old rooming house and the dance hall and the strange phantom woman had never existed. There was only one reality to him now and that was Ruth, gently, lovingly savoring the hard flesh of his penis as she ran her caressing fingers over the naked flesh of his body.
He let the sensations flow through him like a slow and easy fire of heat lightning on a humid summer's day, but he knew too that he did not want to come to full and complete release this way.
He had to be inside the girl as men were meant to be inside women. That, he knew, and what they would share then, would be vitally important to both of them.
Gently he eased her away from him and rolled her on her side.
"Not that way," he said. "There's a better way."
"But I can't," she insisted. "I already told you."
"I won't believe that. She only said that to keep men away from you."
She started to say something but his lips muffled hers and they were pressed tightly together in each other's arms.
He could feel her terror of the unknown, but also her eagerness as he eased her onto her back and spread her slender young legs wide to receive his embrace.
Gently, he knelt between her legs and placed the very tip of his shaft against the wet flesh of her budding womanhood. He let the two bodies feel each other and then, gently pressed forward until he rested against a resisting membrane which blocked his passage.
Then he knew the truth. She was no more or less than a virgin as virgins are supposed to be. He was pressing against her maidenhood and she was prepared to give herself totally and only to him for the first time in her life.
"Ruth," he whispered in her ear as he increased the pressure. "It may hurt a little."
"Oh, hurt me," she answered. "Hurt me!"
He coiled his muscles and thrust. A small bit of resistance held him, then he felt it break under his gentle onslaught.
She cried out once, then sighed. He looked to her smiling face, felt her young body around him and knew that he too had discovered something for the very first time in his life.
And, strangely perhaps, he remembered another hotel room which seemed like a million miles and an eternity away. For just a fleeting second, he saw another woman, old and degenerate, who needed young flesh to arouse her sagging passions, who needed closed circuit television programs featuring young bodies twined in empassioned embraces to stimulate her own ancient flesh.
And in his memory he heard her words again:
Is this your first fuck, honey?
"Oh, yes," he said aloud. "Oh yes, it is."
Under him Ruth Gordon did not understand the words, she only understood the great rich and wonderful feeling surging through her and the fact that with him she had found an entirely new and wonderful life.
