In the annals of history, we find the names of many of the aristocracy who used their money and positions in life to indulge their lusts. The name that stands out among all of them is the Marquis de Sade. The main reason for this gentleman's unique place in history is that he kept a diary of all of his evil deeds.
There were other men and women equally sadistic and depraved but the Marquis de Sade stands head and shoulders above all the others.
Those people who believe that the type of evil that personified the Marquis de Sade and his kind has disappeared from the face of the earth are living with their heads buried in the sand. There are rich and powerful men in this country, and all over the world, who still practice the art of kidnapping and torturing females for their own sexual gratification.
The rulers of the countries in the middle east, for instance, still buy and sell slaves. They have scouts in all corners of the world searching for young beauties who would not be missed if they should suddenly disappear from the face of the earth. When these young women die, it is a blessed relief from the tortures that they have undergone and they welcome death.
Do not think that you and your family are immune from the evil that lurks in this world. Every day someone disappears and it becomes my job to try and find them. Sometimes I am successful and that is good. Sometimes I can find no trace of the individual who has suddenly vanished.
Ciel Baker's "Lust Ranch" is a story that is contemporary. It takes place in this country and only proves that you must guard yourself and your family at all times. You must beware of the corrupt.
J.R. Evans Private Investigator
PROLOGUE
The moon cast a ghostly light on the desert and if one were superstitious, one might think that the ranch in the distance was floating on air. The buildings sent out weird reflections of silver light that seemed to distort the buildings and make them move scant Inches along the sand. There were no lights on in the main building and the barn and the coral plus the out buildings gave the illusion of a ghost town.
A flashlight flickered briefly in one window. It moved on to the next window and then, at the corner of the ranch house, the lights came on in a large room.
"I say, Taite, isn't it a bit chancy; I mean, lights and all that?" The question came from the older of the two men as he gazed somewhat apprehensively down at the deeply sleeping girl.
"You should know me better than that, Tex. She won't awaken until I tell her to. Watch." He laid down the camera case he was carrying and lifted the covers from the reclining girl's body.
Tex Walker's breath whistled out of him in one lewd groan when he saw the full ripe contours of the girl's lush young body. The green nylon gown had crept up to mid thigh, and the left shoulder strap had slipped down revealing a luscious mound of flesh the size and shape of a ripe melon. Tim Taite simply reached forward and pulled the bodice down until it revealed the brown areole and nipple. "Watch!" he ordered again. Taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he cruelly tweaked it. The girl did not stir, but the nipple-like some slowly awakening thing-came erect.
"Watch," Taite repeated, and lifted the hem of the gown to uncover the pouting mound of Venus between her legs and its luxuriant growth of sparse red pubic hair. He parted the girl's legs and using his right arm under her knees, raised them until the soft, pink lips of her cunt came into view. Taite glanced over at Tex and laughed at the rapidly breathing older man. Slowly, he placed the tip of his middle finger against his thumb and then flicked at the pouting clit. The girl remained motionless, but a low moan of lust was wrenched from Tex Walker's throat.
Captain Timothy Taite dropped .the girl's legs; they remained spread lewdly out with the pussy lips slightly open-the entrance to her secret-most regions was completely exposed, defenseless.
"Satisfied?" he queried with a slight knowing smirk. Tex trembled in eagerness. "Oh my, yes!" he said hurriedly "Such a beautiful young creature. Such a fine, tight little cunt. I can hardly wait to pay a visit there." He placed his camera on the chair.
Tim Taite grinned at the older man and mentally laughed as he said to himself, 'The old coyote is really in heat tonight!" And why not! Hadn't he carefully built Tex Walker up to this point; hadn't he spent weeks and weeks in preparation for this moment. Taite knew Tex Walker's proclivities-as well he should, having catered to various wealthy and powerful men like him for over ten years. As with most of Taite's clients, Tex Walker at seventy years of age, liked his women young, helpless and tearfully innocent. Most important, however, Taite's operation was practically foolproof. There had been no repercussions during the ten years; there was no reason why there should ever be any in the future. In Tex Walker's case, he liked young brides-newly married, still with the dew of freshness of their wedding ceremony clinging to them. And what better place to get them than at a honeymoon ranch, a romantic old western setting where for over ten years, brides had come to be deflowered by their adoring husbands.
"These women," Tex Walker had earlier explained unnecessarily, "present a great challenge to a man like me. Young, arrogant and proud and sure of their undying love for their new husbands, they have to be humbled-almost broken in spirit like a mustang-before they can be taught to crawl to their real master's feet."
Now as Tex Walker watched the sleeping girl, he began to feel a familiar awesome power growing in his loins. The sheer nylon gown above the girl's waist showed the smooth, white plain of her belly and the mysterious crater of her navel. Her pubic hair was like soft down and the thin fleece-lined cuntal slit was an open invitation to a warm and heavenly tunnel. His eyes fastened on the contours of her buttocks and then moved up over the rising and falling of her tits. He could see the little nipple still standing proudly erect. Although his throat was dry, his mouth watered. He was impatient to get his teeth and hands on those magnificent mounds of young, almost virginal flesh and to twist and tease and massage and bite them until they became unbearably trembling volcanoes of passion struggling to erupt.
"Hurry, Captain," he snapped, not taking his eyes from the girl. "Let's get started with the pictures!"
"In a moment. Wait until I get the camera on the tripod." A second later, Taite grunted his satisfaction with the setp and said, "Okay!"
The thought of those young, almost untouched lips mewling and begging in passion, brought a rocklike hardness to Tex's prick. The blood pounded painfully throughout its throbbing length, and he could feel droplets of thick, white seminal fluid already beginning to ooze from its urethral opening.
"All right," Taite directed. "Stand close to her. Start unzipping your pants."
Tex opened the fly of his trousers. His large prick almost eight inches long and of astonishing circumference, leapt out as though it were some voracious tiger suddenly released from an insufferable cage. The flash of light was brighter than a sun as Taite snapped his first picture. Hastily, Tex dropped his trousers and long Johns. Another flash, together with the sound of exposed film being wound on the next exposure.
"Go on," Taite commanded. "I'll shoot as you go along."
Old Tex hesitated now for the first time; he glanced apprehensively toward Taite. "Are you positive she's under all the way?"
Taite sighed in exasperation and walked over to the bed. He stared intently down at the girl.
"Enid, Enid, can you hear?" he asked in a flat tone of voice.
"Yes." the word was a monosyllable without inflection.
"Enid, you are with your husband. Open your eyes." He pulled Tex over alongside her. "See, Enid, this is your husband, David. Say 'hello' to David."
The girl blinked and then smiled and said in a loving voice, "Hello, David."
"Enid, you will do anything your husband asks. You'll do it because you love him, and you know it will give him great pleasure. You will feel much pleasure from him when he screws you-so much pleasure."
She was silent only a second, then she woodenly nodded her head and said, without blinking, "I will do anything my husband asks. It will be pleasure."
"Satisfied?" Taite asked the older man.
Tex eagerly nodded his head. Taite went back to his camera.
Tex squeezed the thick foreskin back from his painfully throbbing prick and bared his teeth as he advanced toward the girl again. The proud young bitch was totally at his mercy. He had heard her giggling as she talked to her husband about him earlier in the evening. She had said, 'That Tex Walker is a dirty old man. A nice, rich, dirty, old man, but a dirty old man nonetheless. Did you see the way he looked at me during dinner?" Well, the huge cudgel he held in his hand would breach the generation gap. He'd teach her. He'd see if she still called him a dirty old man when his prick was rammed deep between those white thighs of hers and its head buried far up inside her quivering little belly.
He was only dimly aware of Captain Taite taking another photo. The heat was on him and it was all he could do to keep from leaping like a starving mountain lion upon his prey. But common sense gained control of his body. The pictures, the ones that would bring her crawling with abject emotion in helpless desperation to him and insure his and Taite's future safety still had to be taken.
"Enid, dear," he intoned. 'Turn your head toward me."
"Yes, David," she answered, and her head turned on the pillow.
"Enid, it would give your husband great pleasure if you kissed and sucked on his prick-as much pleasure as it gives you when he nibbles at your boob."
A troubled expression crossed the girl's face. She hesitated.
Alarmed and wide-eyed, Tex turned toward Taite. He merely shook his head and put his finger to his mouth in a charade of silence.
On the bed, the girl trembled and then, almost as if she were frightened of being bitten by it, reached out her hand toward Tex's cock. The old man grinned in triumph and moved forward until the straining organ was almost touching her lips. "Open your mouth, Enid."
She did as she was instructed, and the smooth, throbbing tip slipped partially through her stretched lips and came to rest against her bared teeth. The soft flesh of the ripe, full, puckered lips closed down about the head. There was a flash of light as Taite took the picture.
Against his cock, Tex could feel the hot air exhaling from her nostrils, and could feel her innocent young tongue quivering in ignorance against the instrument in her mouth.
"Delicious," he muttered, "simply delicious. Suck a little and nibble a little, dear." He began moving his hips back and forth as Taite came in with another camera for a close-up. Several small droplets of scum had seeped from Tex's cock and had lubricated her mouth that was surrounding its head. Looking down directly at her face, he could see a small stream of glistening saliva and scum running out of the corner of her mouth. Again, for just a moment, the animal heat came upon him. He wanted to shoot his full load into her sweet, young gullet-wanted to see her larynx jiggling up and down as she attempted to gulp it down; he could picture it-his scum would spurt out of her mouth, into her hair and run like a white, hot flow of lava across her tits and down her belly. The mental image goaded him into a sudden frantic motion and he was uncontrollably battering his cock down her choking throat, the girl was gasping for air and clawing at his buttocks when Taite grinned nastily and said, "Easy, Podner. We still have a few pictures to take, remember?"
Tex reluctantly removed his cock from her mouth. He had come so close-so very close. H,e stood there breathing deeply as he sought to regain his composure. Finally he sighed and said, 'That was beautiful, Enid. Now your husband will repay pleasure for pleasure."
He reached down and removed the reamaining strap of her gown, and stared lustily at the tit. With a low moan of lust, his hot, eager lips fastened like a leech to it. There was another flash of light as he used his fingertips to tease the other nipple.
Beneath his lips, he heard a low groan of pleasure from the girl. She placed both hands gently and possessively behind his head. Tex glanced over and grinned in victory at Taite. His lips went back to work and his other hand dropped until it found the moist, hot cavern at the junction of her thighs. He used his finger-as though it were a violin bow-to scrape across the length of her pussy lips. "Oh, oh," she purred.
Enid began to breathe more rapidly as the sensations mounted in her body. Tex used his thumb and forefinger to tease her gently pulsating clitoris; this resulted in a low, almost animalistic moaning, "Ohhhhhh, David, that feels wonderful. Bite me-rub me harder!"
Old Tex suddenly crawled onto the bed and crouched on all fours over the helpless young body. "Enid, raise your legs and put them up over my shoulders," he commanded. The girl paused, as if not understanding the instructions, but a moment later subserviently bent her legs at the knees and spreading her legs wide, raised and placed her calves up over his shoulders. Tex pushed her knees back against her chest; her upturned cunt secreting its own lubricant, was in plain view-unprotected and vulnerable to any attack. His mouth watered in anticipation as he gazed rapturously down at the palpitating little pussy. Spittle slid out of his open mouth as he lecherously ogled the open slit of her pussy running down from her smooth, white belly and red silken pubic hair to the full, rounded spheres of her buttocks. He could wait no longer to feast down between her thighs. His head lowered and his mouth opened, and his tongue-like a wet, red miniature little prick-came into action.
The girl gasped. "Oh, oh, oh David! You mustn't!" Oh...." She jerked as his lips encompassed and began sucking at the soft, hair-lined opening. His tongue flickered like a snake against the clit, which was beating wildly.
"Ohhhhh, daddy." Her hands came down and pressed against both sides of his head; it was as though she didn't know whether to force him away or force his tongue and face even deeper into the moist pit of her throbbing cunt. Now his tongue had begun seeking entry into the cuntal passage itself. It flicked in and out rapidly, little strokes of passion that penetrated almost two inches. The girl's hands fell loosely from his head as she groaned and began to rotate her hips in an effort to get his tongue deeper.
Tex was an expert at this sort of thing-had been ever since his early introduction and instruction in its finer arts by a fiery Mexican whore while he was still only ten years of age.
Suddenly, he withdrew his tongue and his mouth from her now responding rut. Enid groaned again, this time in disappointment, but only for a second, for his tongue had begun working again; its soft, flicking tip made circles around the quivering erected clit, and his lips sucked, drawing the organ deeper into the hot saliva-filled cavern of his mouth. Then, he abruptly changed techniques again. Like a thirsty steer lapping water, he used his tongue to lick the entire length of her wet, rotating cuntal slit. Enid's loud moans of pleasure turned almost into a scream of delight when his tongue traced a pattern of fire past her pussy and kept going down until it made lewd, flicking entry into the tight, puckered little anal ring.
Flashes from the camera-like a summer electrical storm-continued to brighten the room.
Old Tex was oblivious to them now. He had the snooty little heifer going; she squirmed and panted like a helpless calf under his tongue. She could be brought back to her senses now and she'd be so hot that she would beg him to continue. She was completely at his mercy. Her mewls drew his tongue faster and faster as it licked its way up and down the now wildly clasping lips of her cunt. She was almost there; he could tell by the contractions of her cunt muscles. His muffled laughter came as her hands desperately clawed at his head-seeking to drive his tongue faster and further into her. The hot, happy bitch, he thought; she doesn't realize that what she really wants right now is a hard cock. She'll be begging for it within seconds.
He pulled his face away, tormenting her. Enid's face was wildly contorted in what appeared to be pain. She cried, and it was a moaning plea, "No, David. Please, David, keep going!"
Tex let her force him this time, and she did so, frantically, pressing his mouth against her hungrily quivering quim. His lips rounded and covered the clasping viscous opening, and he thrust his tongue deep into it. Her thighs closed convulsively around either side of his moving head. On his inward strokes, he could feel her deeper nooky muscles sucking and milking at his tongue as though they were seeking to rip it out by the roots and devour it. Enid's legs had found leverage against his back and she pushed down until he could hardly breathe. With tongue deep in her twat, he used the tip of his nose to titillate her tiny, throbbing clit. Every muscle in the girl's body seemed to be as taut as a steel cable. The cords of her neck tendons stood out as she tried to raise her head to look down her naked body and see what he was doing.
"Oh! Ahhhhh! Ahhhhhaaa!" she began as if questioning exactly what was happening to her. Then she screamed, "Aaaiieee, ah! Aiiiieee, I'm cuming, darling! I'm cuming!" Her body thrashed from side to side, her legs splayed open, releasing his head and her feet beat a tattoo of wild abandoned lust against the crumpled sheets.
Tex didn't even glance over toward Taite. He could stand it no longer. Even as the girl was thrashing and twitching involuntarily in the throes of her orgasm, he grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees again and shoved them roughly back against her shoulders. His long, rigid prick was placed against the visibly throbbing lips of her cunt.
"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk," he said, through gritted teeth, and suddenly began pushing forward. The elastic-rimmed tightness resisted his huge circumference for only a moment, then rapidly gave way to his unrelenting pressure. Down, down, down, the pulsating white rod drove.
Enid tried to pull back from his attack. "No, David," she whimpered. "Darling, you're hurting me."
Old Tex paused. The contractions of her cunt continued to squeeze at the head of his cock; he hadn't realized the girl's pussy was so tight. It fit his prick like very tight leather chaps, and he thought with some glee that the girl undoubtedly had been a virgin on her wedding night three days before.
She obviously had never had a prick this deep into her before, he gloated to himself, as he watched her from above with a lust-filled smirk on his face. Her lips had curled back from her teeth. Pleading, incoherent whimpers of pain came from deep within her throat.
Abruptly, he could stand no more. He rammed forward, giving her all he had in one great implacable thrust; his huge, expanded cock sunk in all the way to his pubic hair and his balls-like dried prunes-slapped hard against her uplifted buttocks. Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his body as she kicked futilely into the air and screamed, "Oh, God! You're killing me, David! Please!" It was a scream wrenched from the deepest depths of her tortured womb.
As though he were demented, Tex screwed her brutally down into the squeaking mattress-pounding into her with the uncontrollable fury of a typhoon.
Taite watched with some amusement as the old oil man went about his business of ravishing the helpless girl. He had already shot two rolls of film on his camera and had expended another two rolls on close-ups. The girl's face was too distorted by pain to take any photos at the moment, but Taite knew that her expression would change once her tight, young pussy got used to the old man's cock. You had to hand it to him, he thought in admiration, as he watched the white pistoning rod being driven relentlessly into the girl's tightly clenched cunt. Tex is hung like a Brahma bull.
Even as Taite was thinking these thoughts, the girl's body seemed to be reacting slightly differently. Her groans of pain came less often now; they sounded different-questioning, perhaps. Once, when Tex had pulled his prick out about six inches and then driven it inward with one masterful stab, the girl had moaned and an unmistakable flicker of pleasure crossed her contorted face.
A moment later, there was an almost imperceptible change in activity on the bed. Taite saw it first, simply a small motion on the part of the girl as she pushed up to meet a downward thrust. The rest came rapidly; the young bride's eyes were beginning to glaze in pleasure, and her tongue had crept out of her mouth to rest quivering on her lower lip. It presented a lustful picture; Taite lost no time in capturing her lewd changing expression on film.
Now the girl was moving, experimentally rotating her hips and putting her arms around Tex's midriff. Not satisfied with this, she reached down and cupped his buttocks in the palms of her hands and began of her own volition forcing him deeper into her.
Tex could hardly contain himself as he felt her abdomen muscles begin moving up and down in time to his thrusts of cock. The contracting muscles inside her pussy were hungrily working massaging and sucking at the inflated head. With each withdrawal of his long, white cock, the pink lips of the pussy pulled and milked at the instrument. The girl was a natural born piece of poontang, he thought in glee, as her quivering body pumped up and down on the rigid rod fusing the two bodies together.
Taite had begun to feel some excitement growing within himself as he watched the girl strain against the older man. When she raised her ass from the mattress, he could see the little brown puckered shithole entrance already covered with trickling cunt honey. And he thought happily, eagerly: You're next, little asshole, you're next! I've got just the thing for you. Taite took photographs of it all, capturing on film the utter abandon of her labors and the half-crazed erotic smile of lust playing across her taut lips. She was moving even faster than the old man now and thrusts had become more violent as she desperately sought her second orgasm. Above the tortured creaking of the bed, and the almost obscene slap of flesh against flesh, Taite could actually hear the wet, sluicing sounds of her hungrily sucking pussy as it reluctantly relinquished its hold on the lustfully driving cock sunk deeply between her thighs.
Suddenly the girl's back arched and she pushed upward with a frightening power that almost threw the old man out of the saddle. "Ooooooh, God, I'm cuming, love me. Fuck harder, fuck, fuck, fucker, David, oh, God, I'm cuming!" With a deep-throated groan, her body began convulsing in lewd, untamed pleasure. Hot, wet cunt cum spurted from the throbbing passage. It's sticky warmth flowed down the crevice created by her buttocks; the viscous fluid inundated her asshole-bringing an impatient groan from Taite. She jerked about frantically as though she were suffering seizure. She clawed at the old man's back; her legs pumped against him as she sought to drive him deeper. Tex's face was taut as he sought his own release; he rammed his reaming cock forward with all his fading strength. His body drooped down heavily on her, mashing her full, ripe tits against his own hairy chest. His long, hard strokes moved violently in and out of the steaming passage that was now wet and slippery from the girl's continuing climax. Abruptly, he could feel the orgasm building up like explosive fumes inside his tortured balls as they beat against her unprotected ass. The lustful pleasure arched across the nerves of his abdomen and his prick throbbed once, twice, then began to spurt.
"Oh, yes, darling, cum in me-cum all the way inside of me, David!" Enid chanted as her head rolled from side to side and she frantically pumped her pussy up and down the long, spurting rod of flesh in an effort to drain it of everything.
Tex felt the hot, slippery walls of her cunt sucking hungrily at his cock until there was nothing left in him, and his hardened organ began to deflate.
The girl lay back full-length on the bed, with his prick still buried inside her. "That was wonderful, darling," she said, huskily. Her eyes closed in weary pleasure.
Tex slowly pulled his slippery prick from the girl. She moaned as though reluctant to have it leave her body.
Captain Taite, who had been becoming increasingly impatient, took the last close-up as the prick slowly slid out of her battered cunt. He could see the girl's wet, matted pubic hair-like red moss hanging over a peaceful river bank-glistening on both sides of her twat. The insides of her milky white thighs were smeared with the scum from both of their bodies. The open crevice of her ass was completely wet from it, and Taite knew he could stand the sight no longer. If ever a woman was lubricated and ready for ass fucking, this one was. He already knew how it would feel-hot, tight. Oh so very tight! And beautiful!
"Hurry," he grunted to Tex, as he dropped his trousers. His own cock, like a lean telephone pole angled on the side of a hill, was stiffly ready.
Tex wearily dried his dick on his underdrawers and put on his trousers. A moment later, he was standing behind the camera. "All right," he said. "Ready any time you are."
Taite said to the girl, "Enid, I am your husband, David. Say something to me."
The girl scrunched herself deeper into the bed and mumbled hypnotically, "David, darling, I love you!"
Taite said, "Enid, darling, don't you want to repay your husband for the pleasure I just gave you. It would be nice if you sucked on my prick."
There was no hesitation this time. Enid turned her head and opened her mouth. There was a flash of light and Tex nodded.
"Now, Enid! I'm going to fuck you in a new and excitingly different way. Get on your hands and knees. That's right, and spread your legs out wide."
The girl did as she was told. Tex moved in with the close-up camera. Taite used both thumbs to peel the smooth, white cheeks of her tender, young buttocks apart to reveal the quivering, puckered little brown circle no larger than a dime. Really, he thought in ecstasy, it looks like an oval of tiny, pink lips. He rubbed his prick in the crevice, lubricating it from Tex's and the girl's cum. The girl winced when Taite inserted his middle finger into the opening. He moved it in and out and around and around. The girl moaned in pain when the second finger joined the first. Then Taite could stand it no longer. Placing the tip of his hardened cock against the tight, puckered nether lips; he plunged forward.
The photograph was taken just as the head of Taite's cock disappeared through the tight resisting ring of anal muscle. Tex continued to shoot pictures as Taite gleefully pounded his prick into her shithole and until her groans of pain became mewls of pleasure and finally of screaming release as her helplessly impaled body reacted orgasmically like a bitch dog in heat.
*****
In the main hall of the darkened ranch house, the clock struck twice. Tex Walker helped Taite change the badly stained and wet linens on the bed, as the girl stood blank-eyed and stiff near the closet.
"Get back in bed, Enid," Taite ordered.
The girl waked like a zombie across the room and climbed into the bed.
Taite pulled the covers up to her shoulders, he began intoning, "You are sleepy ... steep. When you awaken tomorrow morning at nine o'clock you will not remember that we were here. Anything you will recall will be simply a dream about your husband. Do you understand? You have been dreaming about David fucking you. Say it!"
"I have been dreaming about David fucking me!"
"Yes, you have been dreaming. You are sleepy. Your eyes are so heavy that you cannot open them. You are sleepy, sleepy."
The girl slumbered peacefully.
Taite glanced at his watch. 'Two fifteen. It's almost time for 'David, dear' to wake up next to his wife. Care to bring your camera along and take candid snapshots."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Pardner," Tex laughed lewdly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. If his pecker reacts half as well as that hot little cunt of his wife's, it should be quite a show." He clapped his hands together in eagerness. "I can hardly wait until tomorrow afternoon when we show that arrogant little bitch our photographs. How overwhelming. How simply delightful! She'll come crawling to me then. Oh, she'll do anything. Anything!" he gleefully repeated. "And she'll do it fully conscious!"
The two men were still chuckling as they walked the darkened halls of the ranch house. When they reached the east wing, Taite pulled down on the horn of a steer's head mounted on the wall. The hidden door swung silently open to reveal a well-lighted passageway. Two minutes later, they were seated in comfortable armchairs and drinking bourbon and branchwater, as they watched-through the large pane of one-way glass-a young man slowly beginning to awaken next to a voluptuous nude woman who looked up directly at them and winked conspiratorially. Then, her face changed. She looked as if she had been weeping, and when the boy's eyes opened, she sobbed, "You beast, you. How could you ... after we had offered you the hospitality of our home-to cruelly rape me! Oh, David! And I was beginning to be so fond of you! What will poor Enid think?"
*****
The next day, Enid swore that she would do anything that the two men asked of her if only they would not show the pictures to her husband. She had to do anything-not only with them, but with their friends as well. The poor girl's cunt and asshole were bleeding profusely and that night with the scum from the pricks of more strangers than she could count in her ass, her cunt and her mouth, Enid hung herself on the limb of a nearby oak tree.
CHAPTER ONE
Ida was ecstatically happy. She had just had the last fitting for her wedding gown. This Sunday she would be married and started on a new life. She stopped the car to wait for the turn signal. Today had been one of those wonderful lazy days. She had spent most of the morning opening wedding presents with her teenaged sister, Jane. The thought of Jane brought a frown to Ida's face. Jane had confessed to her that she was no longer a virgin. Ida scoffed at her younger sister, thinking that the youngster was just trying to shock her. But suppose that the child was not trying to shock her and the story was true? The turn signal was green and Ida stepped on the accelerator moving the car forward and then around the corner and off of the main drag. Now she had clear driving all the way home.
The thought of her sister's confession disturbed her. She knew that her sister was going steady with a young high school boy named Joe. She had met him several times and thought that he was a very good looking boy for a sixteen year old, but at the time of their meetings she had never dreamed that her fifteen year old sister was having sexual relations with him or any other boy for that matter.
She thought about herself and her future husband, Jim. They were young, she was twenty-one and Jim was twenty-three, but they were mature. Jim and she had never had sexual relations. It was something that Ida would not allow until after they were married. Naturally they did a lot of necking, but Jim never even got his hands on her tits until after they were engaged.
It wasn't that she didn't like to have him touch her on her breasts, but she was always left with such a strange feeling-a feeling that she didn't understand and it disturbed her. Like the time that they went to a drive-in movie and she let Jim put his hands up her dress and play with her monkey. That night she was so upset that she put her fingers on her monkey for the first time in her life. It didn't do anything for her except make her monkey sore.
Ida's thoughts went back to her sister and her boyfriend, Joe. Now that she had had the time to think about it, she was really disturbed and as she stopped the car in front of the house and saw Joe's car parked there, it upset her. If what Jane had said about her relationship with Joe was true then she couldn't face him without starting an argument. She decided that she would not go in the front entrance. She wanted to avoid any confrontations with her sister's boyfriend.
The house was quiet-too quiet, she thought. Surely the young couple had left. For a moment, Ida deliberated calling Jane's name, then decided she would just walk in unannounced. Afterall, it was her home! Ida left the kitchen and went through the alcove next to the living room. She was about to slide the doors open when she heard what sounded like a low cry of pain. Puzzled, she peered through the crack and then froze in shock and amazement. There, stretched out full-length on the couch, were Joe and Jane. The girl's white shorts had been unzipped and-together with her white, nylon panties-were down about her knees. Her blouse was open all the way, and Joe's mouth was glued to her right breast. Even as Ida watched, Jane groaned again-and Ida realized it was not a cry of pain, but of delight. The boy's middle finger was sawing away in maniacal fury at the junction of Jane's widely outspread legs. Her young pelvis was moving up and down in an effort to capture and hold on to the elusive digit. From her vantage point, Ida could even see the enlarged, pink clit almost as large as an infant's pecker.
Ida knew she should go away-go back to the kitchen-and perhaps slam a door as if she had just entered. Then she could call out Jane's name, that would give the boy and girl a chance to get into their clothes. But then she also knew that she wouldn't be able to face either one of them after what she was viewing now. Her attention snapped back to the front room as Jane arched her back up off the sofa and began to pant hoarsely. "I'm cuming, Joey," she cried once, then fell back, her face twisted in a lewd expression of delight and her legs beating against the leather couch.
After her movements had slowed, Joe took his finger away and lifted his mouth from her boob. He slid one knee over her thigh, as he began fumbling with his zipper. "Put it in for me, huh?" he requested.
"No! I told you no." Jane said. In spite of the fact that her eyes were closed in satiation, there was no mistaking her adamant tone of voice.
"Please!" It was a frantic plea from the boy.
Jane sighed in exasperation and opened her eyes. "I told you before you started messing around. It's the dangerous time of the month for me, and even if it wasn't, you'd still have to have a rubber. You know that!"
"Oh, shit, I'm dying," the boy wailed.
Jane sat up on the couch. She had a very patient expression on her face. "Lie on your back," she ordered, and turned on her side to give him more room.
Joe did as he was told. She suddenly realized that Jane knew exactly what to do-had probably done this many times before. Even as she watched, Jane expertly unfastened the boy's belt, undid the waistband hook and the unzipped his trousers. His jockey shorts were bulging. Jane's hand slipped in the opening and withdrew the hot flesh.
She was frozen; she couldn't have moved now even if the house had been hit by an earthquake. She had never seen anything like this before, although she knew it must happen all the time, between some boys and girls. It had almost happened with her and Jim. That didn't change the situation; it was still lewd, dangerous and wicked. Jane's hand encircled the virile instrument at a point just below the head of the organ. She began moving her hand up and down, up and down. Joe lay back with a blissful look on his face, his eyelids fluttering and his breath coming rapidly.
"Let me know," Jane said.
"Yen, yeh," it was a hoarse grunt.
Less than thirty seconds later, Joe raised his buttocks off the couch and his face twisted in a grimace. "Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh," was all he said, but the communication was obviously effective for Jane quickly used her other hand to pull up the jockey shorts just as the first white spurts of the boy's scum came flooding through the subterranean channels of his prick. Jane continued to stroke him-more gently now-and on her face was an unfathomable look that might have been either pleasure or satisfaction. Finally her hand motions stopped. She grinned down at the boy. "Feel better, sugar?" Jane asked softly.
"Ummmmm, God, yes!" Joe sighed. "It's not as good as the real thing-like fucking inside of you, but it's better than nothing!"
Jane laughed, "And better than doing it yourself?"
"Hey now. I don't...."
"You do," and she hit him playfully, "doesn't everyone?"
After a moment, Jane brought her hand out from beneath his jockey shorts. Ida could see the hand was all wet; it glistened in the reflected light. Jane calmly wiped her hand on the tail of his tee shirt. Joe turned his head toward her; Jane's tit was only three inches away from his mouth. He parted his lips, his tongue came out and licked the erect, brown nipple.
With a look of rapture on her face, Jane put her hand behind his head and pulled him closer to her. His mouth opened all the way as he seemingly attempted to devour the entire boob. "Ummmmm, that's wonderful!" Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and was very businesslike. "That's enough," she said in mock sternness.
"We'd better get going. Ida will be back in a few minutes. Come on, get up, lazy." She prodded him with her knee.
Reluctantly, Joe stood up and faced the alcove door behind which Ida was hiding. His levis were down around his knees, and he stood straddle-legged to keep them from slipping down any further. In an attempt to straighten out his sopping wet jockey shorts, he was forced to lower them to about mid-thigh. Ida saw his scum-covered prick, flaccid now and only about two and a half inches long. He used the lower part of his tee shirt to dry it, and the vigorous drying motions started the organ swelling and elongating again. Jane unconcernedly got off the couch and Ida was able to see sparse young triangle of pubic hairs before the white nylon panties and tight, white shorts hid it from sight. Casually, the girl buttoned up her blouse, all the while smiling affectionately at the boy. A moment later, arm in arm and giggling, they left; this was followed by the sound of Joe's car starting up.
Ida suddenly realized that she was debilitated-so weak that her legs were almost unable to support her weight. She felt shame at having acted as a "Peeping Tom," but more than that, she could feel a sense of forbidden excitement that raged like a wild fire in her own loins and brought a hot, fevered dampness between her thighs. For a moment, when the boy and girl had been petting, it seemed almost as if Ida herself were being fondled. Woodenly, she slid the door open and walked to the couch. She reached out one trembling hand and touched the leather. No, it hadn't been a dream. The leather was still warm from the heat of their bodies and, in one place where Jane had lain with her bare buttocks pressed against the sofa, she could feel dampness where the girl's cunney juices had flowed down between her legs to the couch itself.
She sat down and thought about what she had seen. The performance of the two teenagers was wrong. Not only wrong, but sinful and dangerous. Yet, on the other hand, it had seemed such a natural thing and so very enjoyable! She had no doubt that the real act of sexual intercourse between them would be just as natural-accepted just as calmly. And her thoughts moved on to her relationship with Jim. When she permitted Jim to fondle her, she had known excitement-at least for a few, happy, beautiful moments. Always, though, she had become frightened as she felt her senses drifting away and leaving her body helpless to any onslaught. And so, she had tightened up each time. As for touching Jim's thing-no matter how much he wanted her to caress him, she couldn't bring herself to do it. His male organ frightened her. Even though she had never seen it, she knew it was much, much larger than Joe's.
Ida picked up a wedding gift. "Everything will be much better after the wedding," she said aloud, and felt immediate depression because she was pretty sure it wouldn't be that much better. She forced herself to grin and began ripping the paper off the package. "I am just having pre-wedding jitters. Every bride has them. Don't they?" And she laughed humorlessly with the realization she was talking to herself. More than once during the next hour her eyes fastened on the couch, and she found herself wondering what it would be like if she and Jim....
Five hours later, when Jim came to pick her up for the traditional final date before marriage, the combination of perturbation and forbidden excitement still racked her body. She met him at the door, threw her arms around his waist, and kissed him warmly. As she pressed her body close to him, she could sense his surprise at her uninhibited welcome. Her mouth opened to receive his tongue and her own tongue quivered and played with his.
Jim, delighted with the greeting, drew back and asked, "What gives here?"
"I can kiss my husband-to-be, can't I?" she said, grinning in what she hoped was a wicked manner.
"Anytime, baby. Any way!" They clenched again, then withdrew quickly apart as Ida's aunt banged a door at the top of the stairs and came down.
"Good evening, James," she said, primly, not smiling.
"Hello, Mrs. Reed. How are you this evening?"
"Not very well, thank you. I have a headache." Silence settled over the group. Ida finally broke it by taking Jim's arm and saying, "Don't wait up, Auntie. It'll probably be after midnight before we get back from the party."
Mrs. Reed stared at Ida, then nodded. "Have a good time," she said, and it was obvious the statement was made perfunctorily.
Jim opened the door for Ida and led the way to his side of the convertible. She slid in, showing more thigh than she usually showed, and didn't bother to pull down her skirt when Jim got behind the wheel. His mind was on something else, it seemed. "Brrr," he said, shivering as though he were freezing. "It was a bit cold in there, tonight."
Ida quickly put her hand over his. "Auntie means well."
"Sure," he answered, starting the car and backing out of the driveway. "Just like last week when I told her to cheer up; that she wasn't losing a niece, she was gaining a nephew. She looked at me like I was something that had crawled out of the apple pie and said, 'I am losing my child."
"Everything will be all right," Ida said, moving over until her hip was touching his.
Jim looked down at her legs and tits, grinned and said, "Everything is perfect already."
She dimpled and replied, "Thank you, kind sir," and felt happiness well up in her.
He drove quickly, surely, driving with one hand around her shoulders. His radio was playing something soft, something for people in love. Neither of them spoke as they drove out of town, heading toward the ranch where the hayride was to originate. They were the last to arrive. Other couples were already in the wagon, shouting impatiently for the evening to begin. Several bottles of hard liquor were in evidence, being passed around to be drunk straight. Ida had a mouthful of straight bourbon and coughed as it burned its way down her throat to her empty stomach.
Someone began singing as the horses pulled the wagon across the countryside. With the coming of darkness, the various couples began snuggling down into the sweet-smelling hay. There were muffled giggled from the girls and occasional barks of laughter from the boys. Ida knew all of the others on the ride-most of them had been friends since kindergarten. They were a nice bunch of kids, she thought.
Jim pulled her down deeper into the hay, and she found herself almost buried in it, and lying full-length and pressed against him. The image of Joe and Jane came to her at once, but she forced it out of her mind by asking, "Happy?"
"Uh-huh. You?"
In reply, she kissed him and found his mouth partially open. Without volition, her tongue swam into his mouth. He savagely returned the kiss, and the excitement she had felt earlier began creeping back again. Now his hands cautiously touched her boobs. Even through the sweater and blouse and slip and brassiere, she had felt the electricity between them.
The spell was momentarily broken when from the other side of the wagon, Jean Ellis, the pert little blonde who was to serve as bridesmaid on Sunday, said very loudly, "Lon Muller, you stop that! You just behave yourself. You hear?" The remark was followed by ribald laughter from all the boys, including Jim. Even the driver, an aged hired hand, doubled up with laughter.
A second later, Jim began kissing her again. Their two tongues sparred, and she felt his hands becoming more sure of themselves when she did not protest. Lying as they were, face to face, Ida was also becoming very aware of the hard bulge beneath his trousers, which confessed his desire. She wanted to reach down there and caress him the way Jane had caressed Joey; she was steeling herself to do it when his hands moved beneath her sweater and his knee moved between her thighs, separating them.
She made no effort to halt his fumbling efforts to unfasten her bra, trusting him and herself. His movements, concealed by the straw and the night, were successful. A delicious moment later, his bare hand was on her naked boob; his fingers played with the nipple and he lovingly squeezed the firm full mound of flesh. Never before had it felt so delightful to her. His tongue had become imperative, his movements almost frantic. His hips buffeted against her pelvis. She found herself panting-wanting him to stop, yet deep inside herself wanting him to go ahead forever. She wanted him to kiss and bite her tits the way Joey had with Jane. She was only vaguely aware of the clopping of the horses' hooves and the murmuring sounds of the other couples who had also buried themselves in the anonymity of the hay. No doubt everyone was necking furiously, she thought. Suddenly, the breath went right out of her body. With one unhesitating smooth motion, Jim's hand slid up her thigh, dug itself under the thin elastic band of her panties and touched the hot, moist lips of her now-fevered monkey. Oh, God! She had been dying for him to do this, and now she didn't want him to. Immediately, she dropped her arm and tried to pull his hand away; she also attempted to move her mouth from his. She was helpless, so weak. She was almost beside herself as he began massaging the hot, throbbing passage between her legs. Once, his thumb and forefinger tweaked the sensuously tingling clit and a shower of ecstasy sparked through her groin. He began using his other arm to force her hand down toward the awesome bulge in his pants. She could feel reason leaving her; it was insane. "No, no!" she cried aloud and struggled upright. No one noticed her.
Ida saw him looking at her, wild-eyed and trembling. Finally, he seemed to gain control of himself and nodded that it would be safe to come back into his arms. She did so, trembling like a person afflicted with epilepsy and kissed him gently on the lips. The bulge in his trousers felt even larger now, and she could feel it beating like a second heart against her bare thigh.
She had almost decided that she would do something about relieving him, when the driver shouted to someone, and Ida heard Jean Ellis' voice, "Hey, everybody, we're here!" The wagon made a half circle and stopped at the bank of a lake. A huge bonfire was scattering sparks to the night. The smell of broiling steaks came on the wind. A keg of beer was tapped as one of the hired hands began playing guitar. Dinner was followed by a round of singing as the bonfire slowly died down. One by one, the couples began drifting into the perimeter's darkness.
Ida felt Jim's hand pulling her to her feet. Arm in arm they walked down the dark lake shore. They had almost reached the end of the trail when he suddenly stiffened and whispered, "Shhhhh, there's someone out there." Ida could hear the muffled groans and something that sounded suspiciously like the sound of body slapping against body. "What is it?" she whispered, half-frightened, not knowing what lay there in the darkness.
She saw Jim grin and he put his mouth against her ear. "I think it's Jean Ellis and Lon Muller. Come on, let's see."
Ida held back. 'That wouldn't be nice," she hissed. "We shouldn't."
"Come on," Jim insisted, and took her hand. "Be quiet."
They moved silently across the grass, heading toward the little gully that separated the grass from the trees. Jim pulled her low to the ground in order to cut down their silhouette. They peered over the bank.
Ida made an audible gasp, which was quickly shut off by Jim's hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide in amazement. There, down below them, only about ten feet away, were two nude bodies. Jean Ellis' naked, white thighs were spread wide and jerking frantically in the air as Lon Muller lay heavily between them. She saw Lon's buttocks raise, revealing a huge, white rod of glistening flesh in the moonlight; the rod was sunk deep in Jean's open thighs! Lon thrust forward and the girl's naked monkey rose to meet it in midair. She squealed out in delight. Faster, faster, the two bodies moved against each other. Jean's breath was coming in loud, short, puppy-dog-like pants and her movements were frantic. "Fuck me harder, harder! Oh, yes!" Jean groaned then, with her face contorted in lascivious lust and passion, cried out, "I'm cuming, Lon. Ah? Ahhhhhh! Aiiiieee! I'm cuming! Fuck harder!" She made one maddened thrust upward and then fell back on the sod, her body spasming uncontrollably, her legs pounding the ground. A moment later, Lon rammed forward and groaned out his own release, and the couple lay still; the only sound was their hoarse exhausted breathing and the slap-slap-slap of water as the little silver lake water rolled peacefully up on the shore.
Ida was only vaguely aware of Jim leading her away into the darkness. Well, now she'd seen it. She knew the word for it; Jean had been fucked, and Jean had used the word 'cum' as her body went insane with lust-just as Jane had screamed out she was 'cuming.' And Jean had enjoyed it, had obviously been deliriously happy during it-and so had Jane.
The sight had almost maddened her with a strange unwanted desire. She could feel the hot dampness now of her own awakening loins. Jim was pulling her firmly away from the bank and toward the darker shadows by the trees. Once, when she opened her mouth to say something, he held up his hand and silenced her. After they had gone about fifty yards, he stopped and pulled her body around toward him. They kissed. Ida wasn't attempting to tease him; she had a fire in her loins that cried out for extinguishing. She didn't know how to put the fire out or how it could be put out; that would be Jim's job. All she knew was that she was instinctively grinding her pelvis against that forbidden area where his trousers bulged. Instinct told her that when these two junctions were finally joined, the fire would blaze up in an 'all devouring conflagration, explode and then slowly die like a beautiful sunset.
Standing on tip-toe, abdomen wantonly pressed against him, she suddenly felt his sure hands sweep up under the short skirt and cup her thin panty-covered buttocks in his palms. A second later, his thumbs hooked over the elastic waistband and with one delicious motion, her panties were pulled down over her hips. Jim fumbled with his zipper and then the long, hard rod which had been held captive for so long was released. It pressed hotly against her naked belly, throbbing hungrily with each beat of his heart. Standing pelvis to pelvis, she felt his knees spread outward a bit to lower himself. Then the fevered cock was between her thighs.
"Jim," she moaned. "Please, no. We can't." That was what her lips said, but her body was screaming, "Oh, yes, now, right now, my darling. What difference does a day or two make now." And so, without conscious volition, she flexed and unflexed her thigh muscles against his throbbing prick knowing by his moans of pleasure that she was instinctively doing the right thing.
Jim sawed his cock between her thighs; she could feel the hardness of it moving back and forth inside its sheath of hot, thin skin.
His finger had begun to seek out the now moistened entrance to her womb and after a second he found it. He turned his hand palm up to cup the whole of her naked crotch in his hand and, at the same time, forced her thighs apart. She hated to lose that wonderful contact between her upper legs and his prick, but she permitted him to spread her anyway. His fingers were moving like those of a sensuous harp player across her monkey lips. She wanted to cry out in delight. Never before had she ever felt anything so soul consuming. Her neck arched and she moved her face from side to side, her lips contorted and panting out over and over again, "No, no, no," and obviously-from her wanton actions-meaning, "yes, yes, yes!"
Jim was grinding his teeth and grunting softly as he moved his dong up and down the length of her thighs. She could feel some moisture there; she wondered if he had 'cum.' He still was hard, still moving, so obviously she thought he hadn't reached his climax. There was a moisture-a hot, slippery moisture-in her own monkey split; the artesian springs of passion coming to life under his quivering rod.
"Ida, please! I want you. Let me!" He continued to buffet her thighs with his prick.
I can't let you, she thought, incapable of speaking through her own longing. I can't stop you, I won't stop you if you really try. His huge rod now had slipped up to the top of her thighs and its head pressed and quivered against her hungrily throbbing cunt lips. She cried silently, "Oh, how I want you to do it to me. Do it now!" Nothing escaped her lips though except wild hoarse pantings of desire. For the first time in her life, she felt as if something good was about to happen to her down there between her legs. Her heart rejoiced. There was no fear this time, as there had been in the past. No sudden withdrawal of her senses. If anything, her senses stayed right there and intensified. It was beautiful. It was wonderful. She wanted to cry out to him, 'Take me, take me now, darling." When her fiance began pushing her gently down toward the grass, she went willingly. Panting, she lay on her back, legs slightly spread, looking up unseeing at the starry sky and watching as Jim unfastened his trousers and dropped them. Then he was kneeling between her thighs, the heat of his bare hips and buttocks against her abdomen and legs.
"Be gentle," she moaned, as she felt the huge head of his prick pressing at the lips of her unprotected pussy. She lay there, the heat of the moment on her-wanting it beyond all other things and ecstatically happy that the fright had finally left her.
Jim's tongue sought possession of her mouth, his weight descended upon her lower belly and the first gentle probe of his cock slid lengthwise across her pussy lips. She gave herself to the sensation; she could feel all reason leaving her body-replaced only by pure feeling. Jim lifted his buttocks back a bit in preparation for this first entry. The throbbing head of it touched her cunt lips, pushed forward and separated the soft, yielding hair, and paused there, beating, beating, beating. Now, he withdrew his head, now he replaced it, and this time pressed just a trifle deeper. Oh, God, she thought, it is so beautiful. She could feel her pussy juices oozing around the head of his cock. Now she wanted it deeper. Instinctively, she had reached down there to caress his balls when-with a terrifying suddenness-the breathless moment was shattered by the loud shrill tweet of a trumpet blown only a few yards away. And the sound of it caused Ida's nerves to suddenly scream and react as though a stick of dynamite had exploded beneath her. Simultaneous with the whistle, which was the signal from the wagon driver that the evening was at an end, there was the sound of a giggle right above them, together with a muttered "Ooooops! Beg pardon!" Jean and Lon were laughing as they backed away after stumbling over them in the darkness. "Didn't mean to break in," Lon's voice said, followed by Jean's hissed, "Shut up, Lon."
Ida put her hands against Jim's chest and pushed him away. Frantically, she tugged at her skirt, attempting to pull it down and cover her naked loins. The beautiful moment had fled and the way her nerves were screaming, it was probable that it would not return for a long time, if ever. It was as though she were a child undergoing psychological conditioning; reach out for the piece of candy and receive a powerful electric shock upon contact. Or a junky reaching for a fix in an institution-a type of don't touch conditioning-brainwashing.
Her nerve endings were all jangling like a hundred alarm systems being shorted out at once. She wanted to scream. Just as devastating was the embarrassment and humiliation that she felt. God, how cheap and vulgar she must have looked there with her legs spread out like a wanton whore. She covered her eyes and began sobbing quietly.
Jim, though, was not about to give up that easily. When he sought to pull her skirt up again, she jackknifed her knees beneath him and twisted on her side. "Don't," she commanded, and it was an order not to be disobeyed. "I'm so embarrassed."
"God, we can't stop now," he groaned. "It doesn't matter if they saw us."
"It matters to me," and the sobs began coming more rapidly.
Jim angrily rolled over. "Oh, shit!" he said very loudly, and got to his feet, pulling up his trousers.
"I'm sorry," she wept. "I can't help it!"
"Come on," he said, and it was almost a snarl of contempt. "Get up."
Trembling, Ida stood and then feeling even more embarrassment, reached down and attempted to raise her panties; she heard them rip as her heel caught the elastic. Jim had his back to her. Why, oh why, did everything go wrong all of a sudden. She had wanted him to do it to her-she needed it. He had even begun to make some penetration. And then that damned trumpet together with Lon's crude laughter and Jean's knowing eyes. Contritely, she completed her dressing, and then said quietly, "Jim."
He refused to answer.
She sniffed, "Jim, I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, you acted like it," he mumbled.
"Well, I am."
"Okay," he said, his voice cold and distant, and not giving an inch. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. That doesn't make any difference to the condition I'm in right now-the same god-damned condition I've been in ever since I met you. Don't be surprised if you hear tomorrow morning that I was arrested for raping someone on the street."
Ida flared, "It's just as bad for me."
"I doubt that."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Forget it."
"No, I won't forget it. What did you mean?"
He turned finally and looked down at her. After a long moment, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed in exasperation. "You can turn it off. It's easy. Look at me, though. Just look!" He cupped his bulging trousers in one hand and clenched his fist tight around it. "What am I supposed to do with this? Christ! It hurts a man when he gets all set to screw and then nothing happens."
Ida's retort was cut off by the sound of the horn again. Someone shouted their names, "Hey, Jim, Ida! Come on. Time to go!"
"Come on," Jim said, roughly grabbing her arm and leading the way toward the wagon. Ida followed him docilely; she was thinking of what he said-about it hurting a man when nothing happens and he's ready. Jane apparently knew the solution to that problem this afternoon with Joe. And at that moment, she decided that she would "relieve" Jim this way, if it would help him. He would have to make the first move though; she couldn't bring herself to be that bold.
The ride back on the wagon was silent, and the atmosphere painfully strained between the two of them. He made no effort to kiss or hold her. When they got back to the ranch yard, he had assisted her down from the wagon and then opened the door to the right side of the car-an obvious invitation to sit on her own side of the car. Not one single word was spoken during the short journey home. When he pulled into the doorway, he kept the motor running while he escorted her to the door.
Ida's emotions were churning; she was torn between embarrassment, shame and anger.
"Good night," he said, simply nodding his head, and again making no effort to kiss her.
All right, if that's the way you want to play it, to heck with you, Mister, she thought. She forced herself to smile though, and said, "Good night, Jim." She put her key into the lock, entered without looking at him, and closed the door behind her. She stood there, heart pounding, with her back pressed tightly against the door, until she heard the roar of his engine and the screech of his tires as he angrily departed.
"Ida, darling, is that you?" Mrs. Reed's voice came from the living room.
She sighed, that was all she needed to make the evening complete-an inquisition. "It's me, Auntie."
"Come in here, please."
Ida had no inclination to talk to anyone at the moment; all she wanted to do was go upstairs, take a hot shower and go to bed with her own thoughts.
"Ida, are you all right?" Her aunt's voice was insistent.
"Yes, Auntie," Ida took off her sweater and put it on the hallway bench. She glanced at her hair to make sure it was clean of hay and grass and not too mussed, and checked her clothing for signs of disarray. Then she went into the living room where the older woman stood before the fireplace.
Mrs. Reed's eyes flickered over her niece as if she were evaluating a stranger's honesty or trustworthiness. After a moment, she blinked and held a tightly wadded handkerchief up to her mouth.
Puzzled and alarmed, Ida asked, "Auntie? What's happened? What's wrong?"
Mrs. Reed seemed reluctant to speak. Then, with big tears looming in her eyes, she reached out for Ida and said, "Oh, darling, I should have told you before but it was so embarrassing for me." She sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief and sniffed, "I just didn't want to embarrass you, too. But I can't avoid it any longer."
"What is it?"
"Sit down, dear," she motioned to the couch, then sat down beside her niece. The older woman's face was flushing as she sought to put words to an obviously distasteful task. "I've never spoken to you about ... about your marriage duties and marriage night. I must do so before you find out for yourself. This is something a mother is supposed to pass on to her daughter. It isn't something you will find in those horribly nasty dirty manuals with their filthy pictures and diagrams, or those dirty, liberal sex education classes they tried to put on in the high school. I'm so relieved that my woman's club was instrumental in getting rid of all that smut. After all, this is something that should be taught and discussed in the home."
She was appalled. This was the last thing she ever expected to hear from her usually reserved aunt. The older woman was undergoing almost a Jekyll-Hyde transformation as she warmed to her subject. Earlier embarrassment had evaporated-being replaced by something akin to hatred and anger.
Auntie said, "I think you know that men and women have different reproductive organs."
Ida was amused in spite of herself, but she realized she must bite her tongue. She wondered what her aunt would say if her niece was to tell her that the first time she had seen-in living color and stereophonic sound-a full-grown male's erect "reproductive organ" had been that afternoon on the couch, that Auntie was sitting on the exact spot where Jane's "reproductive organ" had dampened the leather some twelve hours earlier, that Ida's own "reproductive organ" had been rubbed by Jim's "reproductive organ" only an hour earlier.
Auntie continued her lecture. "May I suggest that you use your ... ah ... reproductive organ as just that. Get pregnant right away, as soon as you can, then you won't be bothered by Jim. Sex, after all, is enjoyable only to men; it is something we women must bear with fortitude-no matter how distasteful."
Ida swallowed, confused. "But, Auntie," she protested. "Sex is supposed to be beautiful between a husband and wife."
The older woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sex is only beautiful in that it leads to procreation. Remember the Good Book: it says, "Women submit to your husband." That word 'submit' means just that. Sex is a cross we women have to bear, nothing is fair or equal about it. For example, on your wedding night, you will give your virginity to Jim. He will take it joyously. And what does that gift cause you? Not joy! Pain! Your hymen will be brutally ripped, the pain will be excruciating, and then you will begin to hemorrhage. I have even heard stories about women bleeding to death on their marriage bed. Once, you remember, I broke my leg and the bone popped out of my skin?"
She nodded, remembering the afternoon when she was only five years old; she'd had nightmares for weeks after seeing the blood, the white bone, and hearing the sounds of her aunt's screams.
"You remember how I finally passed out from the agony, and when they tried to move me, I came to again, and how they had to give me morphine to ease the pain?"
Wide-eyed and wondering, Ida said quietly, "Go on."
"Well, the pain that afternoon was nothing compared to the agony I suffered when your uncle took my virginity, even though he tried to be gentle. That, of course, was before he became an insensitive alcoholic brute." The older woman's eyes narrowed in recollection. "It was always painful. It hurt every time he insisted .on my performing what he called 'marital obligations.' " She held up her hand as Ida opened her mouth to speak. "Wait, don't interrupt. My mother suffered the same way, and her mother, and her mother's mother before her. Your poor mother! It finally killed her! It is a fact of life you must learn to accept and that is why I say to you, 'get pregnant as soon as you can'."
Ida was slow putting her thoughts into words, but finally her feelings came tumbling out. "But, but don't most women enjoy doing it with their husbands?"
"Whores enjoy it! Not decent women! The woman is always defeated, degraded, and brutally subjected to all types of indignities. Can you imagine ... no, of course you can't, and pray God that you'll never have to ... what it is like to have some foul breathed, wine-smelling, cigar-stinking beast crawl like a spider over your body?" She shuddered from the thought of it; and Ida-watching her aunt's genuine horror-couldn't help thinking about what had been said.
Ida was fairly sure that her aunt was telling the truth-at least the truth as the older woman saw it. Perhaps there was an inherited physiological trait that had been passed on through the female genes in her mother's family. She had read and heard about such things. Perhaps it was painful! Maybe there was some almost insignificant anatomical or neurological difference in the female line of her family. And, abruptly, as the horrifying thought came to her, Ida clutched the arm of the couch, could the trait have been passed on to her? Would she know agony, instead of passionate enjoyment? Would she have known excruciating pain if Jim had continued his penetration?
Her mind was a maelstrom of confusion and fear. There were so many questions she wanted to ask now, and no one to answer them. She wanted to ask if her aunt had ever enjoyed a male's caresses and fonding, but such a question was embarrassing and at that moment almost senseless.
Then, almost as if reading her mind, her aunt said, "I think almost all women enjoy 'sparking' with a man-the touch of his hand upon your arm," and the older woman blushed, "or a gentle kiss. The body responds, of course. But the act of sexual intercourse itself is degrading." A moment later, she began speaking more rapidly-almost irrationally. "Remember what Saint Augustine wrote, 'Nothing is so much to be shunned as sex relations.' And remember what I said. Sexual intercourse should be used only for procreating the race. Birth is painful-horribly so-but the act of conception, of mindless copulation, is equally painful. Get pregnant, my darling, as soon as you can."
There was more of the same, but Ida's mind could not absorb more. Ida knew her aunt was wrong, terribly wrong. That statement about only whores enjoying sex was almost pathetic. Jane certainly was no whore-nor was Jean. Then there was Iris and Ruth, both of whom had been friends of Ida's for almost all of her life; both had married earlier this summer. They certainly weren't "whores" but they had made some ecstatic reports about what their husbands did to them in bed.
Long after she had gone upstairs, Ida lay awake-unable to sleep. She gradually became more and more certain that her aunt was telling the truth as she saw it. It killed mother; it probably was agonizing-to Mother, to Mother's mother, and all the females in a direct line. If it was true, and Ida had absolutely no reason to doubt it, then most probably the same thing was inherently wrong with her. It would be as agonizing for her as her ancestors once Jim made full penetration.
It was a family curse, her confused mind decided; a curse handed down from one female to another on her mother's side.
Without realizing it, Ida had placed a psychological chastity belt around her waist which would prove to be better than any that was invented by man. Her mind would prevent the penetration of her body by a male organ and the key might prove to be years and years of psychotherapy.
Ida was the victim of conservative superstition, the locked mind of an evil-minded old woman who thought that she was doing what was best for her sister's child. God save us all from narrow minded provincial hypocrisy.
CHAPTER TWO
Jim pulled away from Ida's house cursing his future bride under his breath. He called her all kinds of cock teasers, knowing that he was being unreasonable about her attitude toward her virginity. He knew that Ida wanted to come to their marriage bed with her cherry intact, but to go so far and then to back down was beyond all reason.
Here he was driving home with a hard-on that could kill a cow and he knew that at this hour of the night he was not going to be able to find anyone that he could use it on for relief. The thought that he was going to have to go home and jerk off disturbed him.
He rubbed his cock through the material of his trousers. His balls were hurting again-the usual occurrence after a date with Ida. "Jeez, we came so close tonight, and she was almost letting me," he said aloud, and then added, "that god-damned trumpet-scared hell out of me, too. And Lon making those wise cracks, that's all we needed." Ida had tightened up like quick concrete the second she heard the horn; it was almost as if she had suffered instant rigor mortis. Then something had seemed to collapse inside her when she realized there were witnesses. That had been Lon's idea of a practical joke-butting in just at that moment.
Jim stopped his car at a traffic signal; when the light turned green, he raced another car away from the light, burning rubber for almost half a block. A Ranger's car coming in the opposite direction blinked its headlights in warning at him, and Jim immediately slowed down. He watched in his rear view mirror, but the ranger continued his patrol and did not turn around in pursuit.
When he turned off the main street, he was surprised to see Lon Muller's little two seater on the side of the road; its parking lights were blinking and a cursing Lon had his head under the hood.
"What's wrong, pal?" Jim asked as he pulled alongside and stopped.
Lon looked up. "Oh, this son of a bitching gas blew on me again. Third time this week. Christ, for two bits I'd drive the god-damned thing over the railing on the trestle and dance a jig all the time it was sinking into sixty feet of water."
Jim laughed, "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you've got some quarter inch copper tubing?"
"'Fraid not. Can I call a garage for you?"
"Naw. A Ranger came by a few minutes ago and radioed for the auto club; but the tow truck is out on the highway with a wreck right now. They can't be here for another half hour or so."
"Okay, see you later then," Jim said, and put the car in gear.
"Hey, wait!" Lon came over to the side of the car, a troubled look on his face. "Say, ah, you could do me a favor."
"Sure, anything."
Lon nodded toward the front seat of his car. "Can you give her a lift home? Her old man's going to be raising all sorts of hell even now; another thirty minutes, he'll probably be waiting on the front porch with a shotgun."
For the first time, Jim saw Jean Ellis peering at him from the dimness of the front seat. "Hi there," she said, brightly.
"Hello, Jean," Jim shrugged as he turned back to Lon. "Would you rather I stay with your car, and you take her home in mine?"
"Naw. I'm the only one who can sign the auto club slip. Besides, with a square cowboy like you bringing her home, her old man will have to believe that I actually did have car trouble this time."
"Right," Jim leaned across the seat and unlocked the door. "Come on, Jean, get your bus transfer."
Jean slid out of the driver's side of Lon's car, and her little mini-skirt crept up almost to her waist. From the position of her legs, it was difficult to tell if she were wearing panties or not. Lon paid no particular attention to her or her legs. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, patting her shoulder and then looking over at Jim, 'Thanks."
"No sweat," Jim answered. "Want me to come back after I've dropped her off?"
Lon shook his head. "Not necessary. I'll manage." A moment later, he was lost to sight as Jim turned the corner.
Jim was all too aware of Jean's body next to him, even though she sat next to the opposite door. She'd made no effort to pull her skirt down when she got into the car. Her well-shaped thighs were really something to look at, he thought, and the proud upthrusting of her tits beneath her sweater gave ample evidence that she had not bothered to put her bra back on after the lake episode. If indeed, she had ever worn one at all. He'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing panties either. These thoughts and remembrance of the lake scene brought stirring life to Jim's cock again. The vision of Jean being soundly fucked by Lon came back all too vividly. He knew he was tensing up, knew his prick was beginning to swell painfully again, knew also that Jean was aware of his tenseness. God, that's all he needed now-another hard-on! And with Jean, one of Ida's best friends!
It was she who spoke first, saying, "Look, I'm sorry we ... Lon and I ... ah ... interrupted-intruded, tonight."
He shrugged. "It's okay. You really didn't see anything anyway, because nothing happened."
"I really didn't think so."
"What do you mean?"
Now she shrugged, and gave a knowing little smile. "You're too up tight. You'd be more relaxed, if something had happened."
"Is it that obvious?" Jim asked, mildly astonished at the girl's boldness.
Jean grinned, "You might say it's as obvious as hell." Without warning, she reached over and touched the bulge in his trousers. "Like so." The contact created the same result in his loins as a match struck in a gasoline-vapored chamber. She left her hand, not teasing him, not caressing, merely resting her fingers on the throbbing cloth lump created by his desire. Jean's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity of her glance was something he could feel. She seemed to be asking silent questions-and receiving silent answers. Jim was aware that he was driving very slowly now-the vehicle was barely moving, as a matter-of-fact. His breath caught with the next comment from the girl, "If we hadn't intruded, you wouldn't be so uptight, would you?"
Jim had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat. "I guess not." He kept his eyes on the road.
"Then, I'm responsible in a way." She looked over her shoulder out the rear view window, then glanced ahead of them. "Keep driving," she ordered. She had some plan, obviously; her actions were unmistakable.
Through the haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Jim felt her hand leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt. 'Take a deep breath," she said. He did as instructed, and she quickly unfastened his waist band. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand and fingers released his hot, throbbing cock from the imprisoning confines of his shorts. He groaned deep in his throat as she stroked it a couple of times. "My, it's beautiful!" she said, breathlessly. "So big, so hard!" She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a thick cigar between her fingers. The reflected light from the dashboard instruments showed her hand moving up and down on his long, white prick. God, how he had wanted a girl to do that! It was almost more than he could stand. Already, even though only thirty or forty seconds had elapsed, he could feel the gathering thunderheads in his balls. The girl was an expert; she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He groaned, and his breath began coming faster.
He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Jean had to make the request twice.
"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.
"Move the seat back further," she repeated.
He mentally knew what was coming next. Eagerly, he reached down on his left for the seat release and pushed the seat with his back. The seat slid all the way back. He was forced to drive with his arms almost straight out in front of him.
Jean glanced out the rear view window again-looked ahead at the vacant street-and ordered, "Just keep driving. Tell me if you see any cars coming from behind. Call this my wedding present to you." She bent over and her hot lips slipped wetly down over the head of his bulging cock.
"Ahhhhhhh!" It was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul.
Nothing had ever felt so beautiful before or at least nothing recently. Her tongue flickered at the urethral opening and then ran maddening circles around the head. She had pouched out her lips so that her mouth felt like a soft, hot clamping cuntal ring, wonderfully moistened. With her free hand, she reached down into his shorts and began gently stroking his nuts in rhythm to her sucking movements. Up and down her mouth moved, gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid from the subterranean depths. Jim was about to go out of his mind from the sensation. The girl had said to keep driving, but it was almost impossible to do that because of what he felt. He couldn't have been traveling more than three or four miles an hour when the girl, as if sensing his impending orgasm, began taking the cock deep into her throat. Faster, faster, faster, her head moved until he could stand it no longer. He arched his back and raised his buttocks off the seat in an effort to jam it further down her throat. She took it all, and as the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, she started sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with occasional little nibbles using her teeth against the trunk and head. The dash lights showed her lips being pulled out grotesquely as they clung to his white driving rod. He continued to push up to meet her, and she continued to take him. His mouth was swollen shut, and long hoarse pants of breath whistled through it. His prick felt as though it weighed a ton-a ton of hot, molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano. He knew he was on the verge of cuming and felt he should prepare her, but as her motions became more rapid and the suction increased, he suddenly knew it didn't matter. She obviously had done this before; she was an expert. The lava gathered and seethed and boiled. The eruption was imminent. Low, guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his throat. He was cuming, cuming, almost there. Almost. Now! Now! Now! The first hot, fiery spurts of scum boiled out of his balls and screamed along the duct leading to the head of his cock. "Ahhhhhhh!" His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound merely increased her frenzy. The hot cum roared out of his cock in great, smooth gushing quantities and she went on sucking furiously as he shot everything he had into her wonderfully warm, greedy mouth. And still he came, as weeks of pent-up frustration and abstinence manifested themselves in almost half a cup of the viscous elixir of love.
She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until his prick became less hard and began to deflate, it was as though she felt it necessary to suck every last drop of lust from him. She continued to work until he was sure he was getting ready for another erection, then she suddenly stopped.
Jim gave a mumbled sigh of happy release, and abruptly became aware that his car-lights on, motor running-was standing motionless right in the middle of the street. Jean withdrew her dripping lips from his cock, then kissed its head which was inflamed from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick. She slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms. Then she kissed him wetly; her tongue darted and licked around his mouth. He could taste the alien taste-the taste of his own sperm in her mouth. Jean's face was slippery-glistening from his scum and streaked with her lipstick. She scooted back over to her own side of the car, opened her purse and carefully wiped her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving again. He turned onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him, "Do I look presentable?"
He inspected her face and nodded.
She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get out of the car to open the door for her. "Don't bother," she said quickly and slid out. As her skirt flared up, he realized he had been right; she wasn't wearing panties after all. The crack of her smooth young buttocks was a dark, inviting line at the top of her white thighs.
Jim saw her father part the curtains and stare angrily out into the night.
"My old man has seen you," Jean said. "So now he'll believe the story about Lon's car." She grinned impishly at him as she closed the car door and leaned through the window, "Did you like my wedding gift?"
"The greatest."
Her laughter came floating through the cool night air and as she turned to go up the walkway, she tossed back over her shoulder, "Make sure Ida sends me a "thank you" note." She was still laughing when the door closed behind her excessively wiggling little ass.
Relaxed and sleepy and feeling only a minor pang of remorse at having "betrayed" Ida with one of her best friends, Jim drove slowly homeward. He puzzled over the opposite sexual reactions of the two girls; there was all the difference in the world between them. Ida was loving. She had moments of great warmth and tenderness that seemed to engulf him like a pleasant comforter on a cold night. Yet, she had very obvious sexual hang-ups. He knew-from the way she reacted when he caressed her-that she couldn't be frigid-at least not in the technical sense. She seemed almost "frightened."
Jean was a different proposition. She was "hot." From the gossip among the fellows, Jim knew she fucked like a rabbit and had been doing so since her freshman year in high school. She also had other talents in the sexual line, as she had just demonstrated. There were a lot of girls in the world like Jean; he had known a few himself before he became engaged to Ida. Some of them-already at fourteen or fifteen-were "bimbos," and that, he knew, was the kindest word for them. They pretended sexual excitement, they screwed, they bellowed, when they reached their pitiful little climaxes, but there was always something missing. Jean really couldn't be called a "bimbo." She considered sex as merely another adjunct to friendship, and thus she enjoyed a good fuck. When she got married, she would be the one who suggested, "husband swapping."
But Ida? There was an untapped reservoir of passion in her; he could sense it. There was more power, more heat in her loins than in Jean's. But how to reach it-that was another thing entirely.
As he drove into his own driveway, he thought sleepily: maybe Ida will change once she gets the wedding ring. He was sure she would, otherwise the marriage would never go.
She wasn't at all like her aunt-dour and dried up and seemingly hating men. At least, he prayed she wasn't like her aunt.
As he got out of the car, he felt the dampness of his shorts where the cum juices had seeped after Jean had finished her blow job. For a moment, he visualized Ida going down on him; such an act would be clear evidence that she had rid herself of some of the hang-ups.
The mere thought of Ida sucking on his prong sent his cock into an erect condition. His hard-on hurt him more now than before Jean had blown him. His bone stayed with him even as he went into the shower and he knew he couldn't resist the temptation to jerk off.
He was glad that he was home alone because when he pulled on his pecker, he liked to talk as though he had someone with him-a girl-and the girl that he usually thought about when he masturbated was Ida.
"Suck my cock, baby!" Jim hissed as he pulled on his prick. "Suck it all the way into your mouth. I want to cum in your mouth and I want to see you swallow it. Don't worry, Ida baby, I won't hang you up. I'll suck your cunt after you blow me. That's it, baby, I'm cuming now, now, NOOOOOWWWWWW! AAAASHIT!"
Jim watched the scum shoot out of his shaft and splatter up against the tiles and run down the wall and get sucked down the drain. He kept jerking on his cock until the pleasurable feeling left him and his cock began to get soft. Then he began to shower in earnest. His only thought was that he was glad that he was getting married so that he wouldn't have to pull on his own cock anymore.
CHAPTER THREE
Friday night was over arid there was only Saturday to go before she was married to Jim on Sunday. Ida was glad that she was in her house so that she could now try and relax so that she wouldn't be nervous for the wedding rehearsal tomorrow. Unfortunately, she was not going to be able to relax.
Ida heard voices coming from the sitting room. She immediately recognized the voices of her two aunts. The aunt she and her sister lived with and Aunt Maude. Both women sisters to her dead mother.
Ida paused for a moment at the door and listened as their voices droned on in the sitting room. The women were discussing her and her coming marriage. They were both voicing concern about Ida's wedding night. They were afraid of what she was going to have to endure. Both women felt that all women did their duty toward men and they tried to do that duty as little as possible. Ida's guardian, whom she called Auntie was crying because she knew that Ida was going to go through the agonies of hell when that young man tried to enter her. She wished that she could call off the marriage and that her darling niece would never have to know the pain a man can inflict on a woman when he tries to relieve his lust.
Aunt Maude wondered whether Ida was still a virgin and her sister laughed and told her that if Ida had been wedged, the child would have come screaming to her to stop the pain and the bleeding. Her auntie said that she was quite sure that Ida was still a virgin.
Ida couldn't stand there and listen any longer. Her heart was beating like a sledge hammer and fear was building in her throat. She moved across the hallway as fast and as quietly as possible as she did not want her two aunts to know that she was home. She didn't want to speak to either one of them. The prospect of discussing her coming sex life with the two elderly women almost brought her to the verge of panic. She felt that if the two women cornered her, she would run away and never come back.
Ida was able to get to her room without any noise and she immediately undressed for bed. She noticed that there were some dried patches of white stuff on her thighs and in her pubic hair. She did not realized that it was the remnants of Jim's lubricating fluids and her own cunny honey that was left from her near-fucking by the lake. She wanted to bathe to get it off of herself, but she knew that if she showered that her aunts would know that she was at home, so she just washed herself with soap and water in the sink, jumped into her nightgown and went to bed.
Ida didn't know how she got by the last rehearsal at the church the next day. If she were an actress, she was sure that she would have gotten the academy award for her performance. She sat with Jim and held his hand and joked with her friends, but inside she was just a bundle of nerves. She wasn't sure that she was going to be able to go through with the wedding the next day. She was relying on Jim's love for her to carry her through their wedding night. She was sure that he would not do anything that would harm her. She was sure and yet-she had her doubts.
That night was spent with Ida's body as rigid as a steel rod. She tried to sleep, but it was an impossible task. When she glanced at her watch, it was three o'clock, and she thought, only twelve more hours.
When the dawn of her wedding day finally came, Ida was slumped dejectedly in a chair in front of the window, and was thinking that she still had nine hours in which to extricate herself from the trap of marriage. Sounds began in the kitchen a short time later as her two aunts began the day's activities.
Breakfast-unwanted and tasteless-followed by a shower, then a beautician arrived to do Ida's hair. Ida woodenly answered everyone's questions and made light conversation with the hairdresser. And during it all, she was thinking, still three hours to call it off.
Then, with a flourish, the dressmaker arrived to assist with the wedding gown; she was followed moments later by the first two bridesmaids.
And, abruptly, all of the sands had run out. It was time! Ida had absolutely no cognizance of being taken to the church; in many respects it was like a condemned man spending his last hours before taking that long last walk.
She heard organ music. She was walking-because someone had told her to begin walking and had nudged her.
She saw a sea of smiling faces. She saw Jim's face, strained and smiling at her from the altar. She saw the bridesmaids in front of her scatter out like brilliantly colored petals of flowers unfolding.
A face: the minister? "Do you accept this man?"
"Do you accept this woman?"
And Jim's voice-hoarse-answering.
"I now pronounce you...." The strident roar of the organ, the brilliant blindness of the sunlight outside the chapel, the flash of the photographer's camera. The string of thrown rice, the shouted congratulations and, from a couple of junior high school kids who had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eeeee." The reception line-a never-ending line of faces and kisses and mouths uttering words she couldn't comprehend. The cutting of the cake. Everything all blur. Then the dressmaker again-removing her gown-helping her dress in a new traveling suit. A corsage being pinned to her coat.
Then, Jim again, meeting her in the hallway of the second floor outside her bedroom, holding her. A shout as the reception guests saw them. A mad dash down the front stairs to Jim's car all painted with signs. The car door slamming. People shouting gleefully. The sound of the car starting, the screech of his tires as he attempted to elude the jokers who wanted to follow with horns blaring.
And the last-the very last-view of her house. Her two aunts, like two dark angels of doom, standing there silently-not waving, merely watching as the car drove off-an expression of grief on their faces.
She began weeping.
Jim patted her hand. "Okay?" he asked solicitiously. "Yes," she lied, through a muffled handkerchief. "I'm just happy."
"This time tomorrow, we'll be in Texas. And tomorrow night we'll be at the ranch in Honeymoon Desert."
So full of dread was Ida at the thought of this first night stretching in front of her that she didn't respond to his excitement.
"Just think of it," he continued eagerly. "Two weeks of doing nothing but lying in the sun and swimming all day and making love all night."
"Yes, darling, it will be lots of fun," she said, not believing her own statement. The fright was beginning to boil up in her again.
Ida became more tense-more silent-with each passing mile as they drew closer to the hotel where they would spend the night prior to leaving early tomorrow morning. She tried to purge her aunt's voice from her mind, but it came creeping back like a freezing, bone-numbing fog. "Dear God," she prayed silently, "don't let me be like my aunts. Don't make it repulsive or painful."
The dread, however, continued to raise in her. She was close to tears when they checked into the motel. The manager almost seemed to smirk at her when he led the way to their suite. Inside, there was a bottle of champagne on ice-courtesy of the owner-and inscribed, "Hello, young lovers."
Almost frantic now with fear and nervousness, Ida pressed the manager to stay for a "toast." She didn't want to be left alone with Jim.
The manager merely smiled and said, "Oh, no! The champagne is just for the two of you. Congratulations to you both. Have a good night."
The door clicked behind him, and the nightmare began.
Jim tried to take her in his arms, but she reflexively put both hands against his chest and pushed back. "What's wrong?" he asked genuinely perplexed.
"Nothing," she lied. "Just a splitting headache. I'll take an aspirin and be all right in a little while. Maybe you should take a shower?"
He looked concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No, it will go away. Take a shower."
Jim grinned in mistaken understanding. "Ah, I bet I know. You want to get rid of me while you change your clothes. And get into something more ... ah ... comfortable." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Ida anxiously seized the remark. "Yes! Yes, darling!"
"All right. One shower coming up." Jim laughed and took off his coat. He opened the suitcase and brought out a new pair of silk pajamas. He held them up for her inspection. "Pretty sexy, eh? Just wait until you see them on me." He kissed her passionately, then disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, she heard the water being run and his voice raised in song.
Quickly she removed her clothes and slipped into the white peignoir purchased for the honeymoon. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she blushed in shame. When she had tried the negligee on in the store she had been wearing panties under it. Now, however, it clearly showed the small blonde triangle of her pubic hair and the brown nipples of her boobs. She opened the bed, climbed in and pulled the covers up around her throat. Two minutes later Jim, somewhat flustered, came out of the bathroom. The reason for his chagrin was plainly evident; the front of his p.j. bottoms bulged out as though he had a huge extension protruding from between his legs.
"It must be something they put in the water," he said, making a feeble joke.
Ida did not laugh; she cringed deeper into the bed. Although she had felt his dong through his trousers before, and although he had touched her with it before, never-not in her wildest imaginations-had she conceived it was as big as it seemed to be. Through the pajamas, it appeared to be at least twice as large as Joey's had been.
Now she knew what her auntie had been trying to say; no woman's body could safely take that huge bulging tree trunk. It would split her apart like a frankfurter roll. She whimpered when he came alongside the bed. That thing was only inches away from her head as he turned out the light. Then she felt the covers being pulled back and Jim's body and his huge male organ of destruction pressing against her side. Without preliminaries, he kissed her-possessively at first and then with rapidly increasing passion. She responded only perfunctorily when he tried to shove his tongue down her throat.
Jim drew back from her. He leaned over on one elbow. "What's wrong, darling?" he asked.
"Nothing," the word was said so softly it was almost inaudible as she lay there transfixed with fright.
"Are you nervous?"
She leapt at the remark as though it were a life ring. Perhaps if she admitted to it, he would leave her alone tonight. So she said, "Yes, terribly nervous."
He laughed. "Well, then. We'll just have to take care of that nervousness. An insertion of hot meat is just the thing to remove nervous strain. Leave everything to me." He kissed her neck and his hot, wet tongue traced a design down to the top of her gown, then he began caressing her bare boobs. She felt nothing except the fear pounding within her heart. He bent forward and glued his lips to the left tit, and his teeth playfully bit and teased the nipple. Soon his hands moved like conquerors across her taut belly and sought the hem of her gown. He pulled it up so her loins were naked and open to him. Slowly, using his middle finger, he began moving it between her thighs and up and down across the length of her cunt lips. There was none of the excitement she had felt the night at the lake-none of the beauty and none of the fire. Only numbness, a deadening absence of sensation. She quivered in fright, and Jim took the motion to mean that she was shivering in excitement. "Like that," he asked, not waiting for an answer. He tweaked her clit. She felt nothing, could feel nothing. It was as though her body now was elsewhere. Her husband was fondling a granite statue.
Then Jim suddenly rose up in bed. She felt him struggling with his pajamas. He removed his top, then kicked the bottoms out of bed where they lay in a heap on the floor. When he stretched out full-length beside her, she could feel the hair on his chest against her bare shoulders, his hairy legs against her smooth ones, and that thing which seemed hotter and larger than ever!
She was absolutely cold with terror when he gently spread her legs apart. Then he swung his legs over her thigh and put his knee between her legs. A moment later he was hovering over her and kneeling between her legs. Ida lay there, close to panic, trembling with a fear that Jim mistakenly accepted as desire.
She felt him fumbling for a moment, then the head of his hardened lob was pressing against the still dry lips of her twat. When he touched her with it, it was as if someone had stuck a burning torch against her bare, unprotected skin.
"Don't hurt me, Jim, please. Oh, God, don't hurt me!" she whimpered, trying to press herself into the mattress.
Jim was breathing heavily and he did not answer. He still reacted in a gentle fashion, however. He slowly pushed forward, spreading the sparse young pubic hair and the head of his cock slipped into the virginal portals of her pussy. She winced, "You're hurting me."
He moved the head of his prick in and out between the red full lips of her quim; he did not seek to penetrate, merely to lubricate it. In spite of all her fear, Ida could feel a moistness beginning down there as her body responded automatically. Perhaps, she thought, it will be all right, after all.
Then, he began to really hurt her when he attempted to push it in even further between her thighs. "No, Jim, stop!" Jim stopped. And she repeated, "You're hurting me!"
It was then he said it. She heard it and interpreted it as a confirmation of everything her aunt had tried to warn her about. He said, "It always hurts a little the first couple of fucks."
"No, then, I don't want to do it!" she whimpered.
"Yes, you do," he insisted, and pressed his now heavily throbbing cock in a bit further.
"No, please," she felt as though he were already ripping her apart and he had only the head in-what would happen when he tried to insert the other eight inches?
Suddenly, Jim made one hard long thrusting motion. "Gaaaggghhh," she screamed. His hips fell heavily between her wide-spread thighs, and she was pinned like a helpless bee to the bed.
"No, God! No!" she cried aloud. "Help me!" The words simply goaded Jim on to almost a maniacal frenzy. He shoved his pelvis hard into her squirming defenseless crotch-seeking to reach that soft, yielding belly that had been denied to him for over a year. She was squealing like a stuck pig as his cock reached the hymen and ripped through it like saran wrap touched with a glowing red poker. She splayed her legs out widely in the air in an effort to spread her cunt even wider-seeking to ease the agony, but it was hopeless. The cruel impalement was killing her, and he still did not have it all the way in.'Down, down, down, ever deeper his rampaging cock ripped until she could feel the agonizing head of it finally coming to rest buried all the way to what seemed to be her navel. His rigid fleshy column was there only a second; he didn't even give her a chance to adjust to it. His motions-back and forth-became a wild, demented thing. He pulled out and slammed it in-seemingly attempting to drive it ever deeper into her tortured pain-filled belly. Finally, and it seemed an eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute or two later, she felt his prick begin to throb as the hot, eager scum spurted from him and flooded her virginal womb.
All in all, he spurt his cum into her three more times before he finally pulled his prick from her cunt, before he stopped violating her body and went to sleep. Each time, he had grunted and groaned out his climax and she had felt it spurting inside her, it was more painful, more disgusting than the first. Ida wept silently. Her monkey was a throbbing nest of agony and her silent desperate screams echoed through her mind and she saw her auntie's tightly pressed lips saying, "See, I tried to tell you."
At dawn the phone rang. Ida, who had not slept, wearily reached over to the bedside table and answered. The hotel switchboard operator cheerfully sang out, "Good morning. It's five-thirty."
"Thank you," Ida said, without feeling.
Beside her, Jim stirred and groaned. "Whasszit?" he mumbled.
"Five thirty," Ida answered. "We should leave by seven. I'll take my shower first, if you like."
Jim cocked one eye at her and made a sleepy effort to grin lewdly. "Why don't we both shower together?"
"No," she shook her head. "No."
He shrugged. "Okay, you take yours first." He rolled over on his side and was asleep again before she could answer.
Ida got out of bed, wincing at the painful tenderness in her abdomen. Her belly actually felt as if someone had repeatedly kicked her there. She felt as if she had been cut open in the crotch, as if a stripped corncob had been shoved there. When she looked down at the sheet, she saw it was matted over a large area with brown blood and dried cock scum. Wide-eyed in horror, and with the room swirling around her, she gazed at her new peignoir. There was blood and scum all over it-front, back, hemline and bodice. She ran for the bathroom and put her head into the toilet bowl and vomited. When she took off her gown later, she had dried blood and scum all over her legs and in her pubic hair and on her stomach and buttocks. It looked as though she had been wallowing in a slaughterhouse trough.
She used almost an entire bar of soap cleansing herself, but it did no good. She still felt dirty, degraded.
When she got out of the shower and began toweling herself, she noticed that the blood had begun to seep again from her injured womb.
Then she thought about her sister Jane and her boyfriend, Joey. She couldn't understand how her sister could say that she enjoyed such a horrible experience. Perhaps it was because Joey's meat was smaller than Jim's? But then she knew that no matter what the size of a man's meat was, no normal woman could stand to have that searing piece of flesh in her monkey.
The thought of Jean and Lon seeming to enjoy one another at the lake the other night also came to her mind. Jean was a nice girl and she liked her very much, but if she enjoyed Lon shoving his thing into her, then there definitely must be something wrong with her. She hated to think that her girl friend might be perverted but that was the only conclusion she could come to.
She was revolted by the blood that was seeping out of her body. It wasn't time for her period and here she was having to wear a sanitary napkin. No, her Auntie was right. She must try to become pregnant as quickly as possible and then Jim would never bother her again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jim glanced at Ida who was asleep in the seat next to him. His eyes went quickly back to the road. He would have liked to place his hand on her exposed thigh and let his hand roam up her leg so that he could stick his finger in her muff. But she was asleep and he loved her and he would not disturb her. Of course, if she was one of the whores that he sometimes passed some time with, then he wouldn't hesitate to wake the girl up. But not his wife. Men were considerate of the women that they married, but not the women that they fucked. The thought of fucking made him frown. He had expected that Ida would be a much better piece of ass than she proved to be last night. He liked a little more action from a woman than she gave. But then he put it down to her being nervous since it was the first time that she had ever been laid.
He thought about the blow job that Jean had given him in the car just a few nights before and his prick grew hard. From Jean, his thoughts turned to the other females that he had been involved with. There were the girls that he had fucked when he was in Junior High School, then High School and College. There were also several married women in town that he had fucked. A couple of middle aged married women seemed to be more interested in sucking his cock or taking it in the ass than they were in getting his cock into their cunts.
But those carefree days were over with now. He was married and he was in love with his wife. He didn't think that he would ever be able to have anything to do with another woman again as long as he lived. Ida was going to be a good wife and a good fuck.
Jim wheeled the car around a curve on the side of a hill and saw the ranch down below on the edge of the desert. One side was all sand and the other side was lush green with a large lake with sparkling water. The sight looked like an oil painting. He glanced over to see if Ida had awakened yet, but she slept on. The poor kid, he thought, she had said she hadn't been able to sleep at all for the last three nights. He put it down to bridal nerves, just as he put down her coldness and reluctance to participate in the fucking to nerves. She had slept the sleep of the dead on the drive-not even waking for supper.
Gently, he reached out and shook her awake.
"Ida, we're here."
She came awake slowly, her mind swimming reluctantly to the surface of consciousness. Then she remembered and abruptly sat upright, her muscles aching. Her entire body felt as if she had been drugged. Jim was smiling at her, and suddenly she felt a great wave of tenderness and love go out to him. Now that she had had some rest, she was once more determined to make him a good wife. She loved him. That and the knowledge that he loved her would be enough for her. She would let him screw her-as much screwing as he wanted-and she hoped and prayed that he would never know how much pain he was bringing to her each time he invaded her body. When they returned home, she would quietly go to a doctor and get some treatment to make her numb down there, something to deaden the nerves.
Impulsively, she bent over and kissed his cheek.
He nodded his head toward the window. 'The Ranch," he said.
Ida took a deep breath when she saw the lake. At the far end, a small boat was a dot of white against the clear water. Smooth, green rolling hills came down to the water's edge on this side and miles of sand on the other. It was a land for walking hand in hand, and communing with nature. Below her, the ranch looked as if it had come out of another dimension.
"Oh, Jim, darling. It's so beautiful." This sight alone had made the journey worthwhile, she thought.
He grinned at her animation. It was the first time since the wedding that she had seemed her old self-happy, vivacious, and affectionate. Last night at the hotel, he had moments when he felt as if he were fucking a stranger. He simply didn't understand it. Hell, after he had screwed her the fourth time, he had been able to sleep like a baby. Yet, apparently, she hadn't slept at all. And she hadn't cum, either, even though he had prolonged his fucking in an effort to get her there. When he thought about it, she was the first woman-out of the dozens he had had-that he hadn't been able to build up to a rip-roaring screaming climax. But, of course, she was his first cherry-and maybe virgins react differently, he thought.
The car swept down the hill, across the small wood bridge and reached the level. Two large police dogs met them at the wood gate. The dogs, barking furiously, ran alongside the car until they reached the front of the ranch.
Up close, the structure looked larger than it had from a distance. It was beautiful, yet it looked as old as time. You knew that there had been many Indian raids here in the old days.
The dogs stopped barking and sat on their haunches, gazing expectantly at Jim and Ida, staring at the couple almost as if asking, "Well, aren't you going to get out?"
Jim stepped out of the car and was scratching one of the dogs behind the ears when he saw the woman coming toward them. Tall, full-breasted with shiny black hair cut short and wearing a long red and blue striped hostess gown that accentuated her splendid mature figure, she smiled and waved in greeting. In one arm, she carried a large bouquet of long stemmed yellow Texas roses. A wide, generous mouth, smoldering, passionate, pitch black eyes with heavy black eyebrows and a rich tan indicated more than a little Mexican blood in her veins. Jim thought with some delight and an instinctive tightening in his groin, "My God, what a sexy broad!" And Ida, with considerable envy, felt almost childlike opposite her.
"Howdy," she said warmly. "I'm Clara Taite. You must be Jim and Ida Dow." Her voice was melodic and deep, with just a hint of West Texas in it.
"We are," Ida answered, smiling timidly at her.
"These are for you, Ida," Clara said, holding out the roses. Then she held out her hand to Jim. "Hello, welcome to Lover's Ranch," she said again, shaking hands with him.
Her grip was especially strong for a woman, and she had a disconcerting way of looking at a man-gazing right at him with such intensity that Jim felt as if he were drowning in her eyes. And even though he was on his honeymoon, Jim knew with a sudden guilty feeling that he would like nothing better than to have those long legs wrapped around his buttocks, those tits straining against his chest, and those full lips tightened back against her teeth in lust as he pounded his hardened cock into her steaming pussy.
Clara's lower lip dropped almost imperceptibly as if she knew what he was thinking. Then she turned to Ida. "You must be weary after your long trip. Come, I 'II take you to your room so you can freshen up." When Jim started to grab the bags, she shook her head. "No, leave them," she ordered. "I'll have one of the hired hands bring them up to you."
Jim watched as the two women walked in front of him; it was not a good comparison. Clara obviously was all woman-and very sure of herself. The long hostess gown covered her limbs, but if her legs were like the rest of her-arms, tits, hips-then they would be perfect too. Ida? Well, Ida had every bit as good a figure-not quite as tall, but offsetting this was her undeniable femininity, a sort of helplessness that made a man want to protect her. Actually, aside from coloring and height,, the main difference between the two women lay in their projected sensuality and poise. Ida seemed almost adolescently self-conscious as she walked next to Clara and if Jim had been able to read Ida's mind at that very moment he would have realized just how inferior his wife felt.
Clara led them to a spacious, expensively decorated room on the upper floor. Large picture windows looked out over the lake and distant hills. 'This is your sitting room," Clara said. "Wood for the fireplace is in the box there." She opened a connecting door. 'This is your bedroom. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable." There was a big, king-sized bed under a calico canopy. She indicated another door, "And the shower...." The shower, Jim noted, was large enough for three people; it had an overhead nozzle and two fine spray nozzles which shot a stream of water midriff-front and back. Jim couldn't help thinking, "What a great play pen." Something must have shown on his face, because Clara dimpled and Ida blushed.
"Captain Taite and I would like you to be our guests for cocktails before dinner this evening," Clara said.
Ida glanced at Jim who replied, 'That's very kind of you, Mrs. Taite."
"You must call me Clara and Captain Taite shall insist that you call him Tim."
"All right, Clara," Jim said. "What time?"
"Well, let's see. You're the only guests we have at the moment. Tex Walker and Abbey will be checking in tomorrow; then we have another young Eastern couple due in on Thursday. So we can be flexible about dinner time tonight. An hour from now?"
Ida felt grimy after the car trip. She said, "I would like to take a shower and change into something else."
Clara was immediately apologetic. "Of course, my dear. How thoughtless of me. I'll have your bags brought up at once." She glanced at her watch. "It's five thirty now. Shall we say around seven thirty?"
Neither Ida or Jim were prepared for Captain Taite when they met him about two hours later. He had a stern military bearing about him which was deceptive for he turned out to be just as warm and friendly as Clara. And, as his wife had said, he did insist on being called "Tim." He was at least four inches taller than Jim's six feet, and weighed in the neighborhood of 240 pounds-and it was a lean 240 pounds at that. A mustache cut a thin line across his lips. All in all, Ida thought as she stared at him in open admiration, he cuts a dashing figure. He, like his wife, exuded an animal-like sensuality. Side by side, the Taite couple definitely would be attention getters, even in a crowd of sophisticates.
Jim and Ida both felt at ease with them during cocktails in the huge study. This was surprising in view of the fact that Clara was in her mid-thirties and Tim probably in his middle or late fifties.
From the study, they went to the main hall-like dining room where the four of them were served by a dour and silent Mexican maid. It was not until the final course that Ida got around to asking, "What kind of Captain are you, Tim?"
"A retired one," he said, smiling mysteriously as he held up his wine glass to the candlelight and inspected its contents.
Clara said, 'Tim! Don't tease." She turned to Ida and said that he was in the Military. A medical officer. Since the Army started to take women they needed doctors who specialized in female disorders. Tim was one of the outstanding female specialists in the country but he decided that he would like to be in the service of his country, so he joined the army. His reputation is world wide in his field, but he is very proud of his actions that he took part in while he was in the Korean conflict.
"I was in some wild conflicts."
A look of warning was flashed by his wife.
As brief as it was, it sufficed, for the man came back to his winning ways again. "All sorts of general's ladies with all sorts of general's ladies' problems." He shrugged and laughed. "A very lucrative profession. I made enough in twenty years to refurbish the old ranch. And here I am!"
Clara commented, "Actually Tim is much too modest. He has a great many other talents. Right now he's doing some very important research on mental telepathy."
"Mental telepathy?" Ida asked.
Tim, who was rolling a fork back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, looked up and said, "It's mainly a hobby-something to keep me busy-although the government is interested in experiments. I believe that telepathy can be enhanced by putting a person in a light hypnotic state; then we place someone very close to this person in another room and attempt to establish communication between the two."
Jim, whose eyes had widened, said unbelievingly, "You mean like radio brain waves?"
Tim nodded, and smiled. "I can understand your doubt. I'd be incredulous myself if I hadn't received proof that it seems to work-at least with some people."
Ida was sitting there engrossed, in rapt attention. This was the most fascinating thing she had ever listened to in her life.
Clara said casually, "Why not try the basic experiment tonight, using Jim and Ida? Let them see for themselves."
"Oh, could we?" Ida blurted out.
Jim added quickly, 'That would be one sure way of making a believer out of me."
Tim shook his head and frowned. "No, I don't think it's...."
Ida interrupted, pleading in a little girl's voice, "Pretty please?"
Clara laughed, "You've piqued their curiosity, Tim. You won't be a good host unless you show them how it works."
Tim glanced from Jim to Ida and then over to Clara. He pursed his lips and said, with considerable reluctance in his voice, "I generally need more time to get to know my subjects better." He looked thoughtful, then nodded, "All right, let's try it anyway. It may not work, but," he held out his hands, palms up, and smiled, "we'll see."
Ida was feeling slightly apprehensive when she followed the Taites into the study. She had never been hypnotized before; it would be a novel experience and a little frightening. Jim, now that he had shot off his mouth, was suffering some qualms also.
Tim moved a large maroon leather chair out into the center of the room and then turned a rheostat in the wall until the lights dimmed. A switch was pushed and a thin beam shone down from a spotlight on the beamed ceiling. "Ida, you sit here." Soft harp and flute music floated out of hidden stereo speakers.
Shivering with suppressed excitement, Ida did as she was told. With considerable ceremony, Tim took down a black leather box from the mantel. He opened it and brought out into the light a strange looking multi-colored coin on a gold chain. Then he removed a sealed white envelope and handed it to Jim. 'These are your test messages. So you won't think it's some kind of trick, I would like Ida to give you three numbers between one and twenty before you leave this room. You will read and follow the directions opposite each of the numbers. For example if she said 'four, eighteen and twenty,' you would read paragraph four-where it says you are to concentrate on an image of a stampede. Paragraphs eighteen and twenty are, of course, on different subjects. Understand?"
Jim nodded. Clara took his arm and said, "Come on. Our station is in the room across the hall." Jim was all too aware of her hand on his arm; her presence up close was a tangible thing, and the musky scent of her perfume was as elusive as a night bird's call.
"Wait!" Tim ordered. "You don't have your numbers." He turned to the girl, "All right, Ida."
She pouched out her lips in thought, then blinked and smiled. "Two, five and ... ah ... fourteen."
As Clara lead him out of the room, Jim found his eyes fastened on the coin dangling from Tim's hand. He would like to have remained and see Ida go under, but obviously that was not part of the experiment.
When they got to the waiting room, Clara reached in front of her to open the massive door. The bodice of her dinner gown gaped open and Jim saw with an immediate feeling of hunger-that she was not wearing a bra for those magnificent tits. Quickly, he forced his eyes away. He thought Clara looked amused. "Sit here," she said, motioning to the couch.
He sat, as ordered. Clara seated herself beside him and handed over the envelope to be opened. 'Two, five and fourteen," she said.
Jim ripped the envelope open and withdrew several typewritten sheets of paper.
"Do you mind if I read over your shoulder?" Clara asked, and the perfume of her breath was almost an aphrodisiac of its own. She didn't wait for permission, but slid right over until their bodies were touching. The heat of her thighs were like a blow torch there. Jim swallowed; he could feel desire for this women beginning to boil up in him. He wondered, for about the twentieth time since their first meeting, how she would be in the sack ... how it would feel to have his hardened cock buried deep inside her glorious gash. Clara leaned forward in order to see the paper better and once again her gown gaped. Seemingly without thinking, she put her hand on his knee. Her lips were only inches away as she began to read aloud, "Number two: you are to think of a wagon train. The wagons will go past you and you will concentrate on the faces of the people inside the wagons. A close relative of the subject being communicated with should be one of the faces you concentrate on-a mother, father, sister, but not yourself." Clara remained in close after she had finished reading; Jim could feel her left tit against his upper arm. "Christ," he said to himself, "how can I concentrate with those tits. Clara had better watch it or I'm going to make a grab for her, that'll really fuck up the honeymoon."
His voice was hoarse and uncertain when he asked, "How long does it take to hypnotize her?"
Clara drew back just a bit. "Only seconds if she's susceptible. Many people can't be hypnotized, however. In that case, Tim will probably want to hypnotize you instead of Ida."
In the study, Tim was just completing his incantation as he swung the glowing coin in front of the girl's glazed and unseeing eyes. "You are so drowsy, so sleepy, you cannot keep your eyes open. Sleep, sleep, sleep." Ida's head fell to her chest. Tim dropped the coin back into the box and then withdrew a needle, which he pricked against the girl's shapely right buttock. She did not stir. Satisfied, he said, "Ida, can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"Ida, at two o'clock tomorrow morning, you will awaken to find your husband getting into bed with you. It may look like me, but it will be your husband. Do you understand?"
"It will be my husband."
"Yes, it will be your husband. Now, when I count to ten, you will begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did not work with you. You will recall nothing. One, two, three ... seven, eight...." He snapped his fingers and Ida's eyes blinked open.
She had felt that she couldn't be hypnotized, now as she sat in the chair waiting for Captain Taite to try, she was positive it would not work. Tim pulled up a stool in front of her; he held up the coin and began swaying it to and fro in front of her eyes. "You are getting sleepy," he said.
Ida giggled. It was an involuntary thing, quickly suppressed. Tim gave her a mock frown. "You must be serious about this, young lady, or I won't be able to hypnotize you."
She was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Tim. It's just that I don't think I'm going to be a good subject."
"Well, we'll see," Tim said professionally, and went back to his incantations. Ida listened to him, she attempted to concentrate on what he said, but she didn't get sleepy at all. Finally, even Tim admitted that she was a difficult subject. He stood and sighed in dejection, "Maybe we should try Jim. If I can put him under, you can serve as the communicator."
Jim was reluctant to be a guinea pig; however, when he saw the disappointment on Ida's face and the mocking expression on Clara's, he decided to go along with the gag. "I won't fight you," he told Tim, "but I don't really think you can do it."
Tim merely shrugged, "It's possible I can't. Your wife wasn't susceptible to hypnosis." He laughed. "I almost put myself to sleep."
Tim adjusted the spotlight beam for Jim's added height and withdrew the coin again. "Now, watch the coin as it swings-back and forth-back-and forth-in front of you. Keep your eyes on it, Jim, concentrate on it as it swings back and forth. See how the light seems to glow from deep within."
Two minutes later, Tim stood with an evil smirk on his face. "You silly young blithering ass. Can't hypnotize you, hah!" He jabbed the needle into Jim's calf; the boy didn't move. "All right, Jim. At two o'clock tomorrow morning, you will get out of bed and walk down the hallway to the end, turn left and walk to the end of that hallway, then you are to go through the open door on the right. You will get into bed with your wife; you will do exactly what she asks-everything she asks. It will be your wife, although it may look like Clara. It will be your wife. Do you understand?"
"I will do anything my wife wants. It will be my wife."
"Yes, it will be your wife. Now when I count to ten, you will begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did not work with you. One, two, three...."
Jim was having a difficult time keeping a straight face as he waited for Tim to try to hypnotize him. He was sure it wouldn't work and he felt amusement-even pity-as Tim picked up that cheap coin and began swaying it in front of his eyes. Really, he thought, it was just like something from the movies during the twenties. "Boy," he said to himself, "how cornball can you get?"
Half an hour later, after the final bourbon of the evening, Jim and Ida were still feeling somewhat guilty about the fact that Tim had been unable to hypnotize either one of them. Both secretively felt, however, that it was because they had such strong will power.
"Goodnight, goodnight, thank you for a lovely evening. It was a pleasure. Goodnight."
They climbed the steps to their room. When Jim kissed her and pulled her toward the big couch in front of the fireplace, Ida suddenly felt the earlier gaiety and happiness of the evening evaporate. It was, she thought, time for sex. Oh, how she hated the word, disgusting, degrading, pain-filled and terrible. She would have to let him do it to her once, and when or if he tried to do it twice, she would tell him that she was much too sore. He would understand, she thought.
Downstairs, a lewdly grinning Tim and Clara held up their drinks in a toast. "Here's to a good double fuck," Tim said.
The catlike glow in Clara's eyes abruptly became an all-consuming flame. "To a very good fuck," she said, "for both of us!" She laughed shrilly. "I can hardly wait." And she repeated a statement she had made to him earlier. "My God! Did you see the size of his cock when he stepped out of the shower! Magnificent. Beautiful!" She gritted her teeth as she visualized once again the two of them looking through the bathroom's one-way mirror at the boy as he unsuspectingly towelled himself dry.
"I thought the girl had the finest little ass I've seen in years," Tim said thoughtfully.
"Yes, you ass fucker you," Clara said cattily, digging her elbow into his ribs, "you would notice that! Well, everyone to their own tastes."
"You are being a bit of a bitch," Tim said, but it was said with affection.
Clara laughed. "I wonder if the young lad has ever eaten pussy?"
"If he hasn't," Tim smiled, "I'm sure he will very soon."
They both laughed.
"Well," Clara said. "I know that I'm going to make good use of that lovely cock before I find out about his tongue. Just the thought of having that thing cutting into my meat is making my cunt drip."
"Don't go getting any ideas about a round or two with me," Tim said. "I want to save all I've got for that little girl's shit box."
CHAPTER FIVE
Jim just couldn't understand it. He knew that he was young but he was no amateur. He couldn't understand why he wasn't getting any response out of Ida. He played with her pussy, he manipulated her clit, he finger-fucked her, he sucked on her tits, but her nipples didn't get hard and her cunt remained dry. He wanted to stop a couple of times and have a talk with her about her lack of reaction, but then he got so hot that he didn't care if there was sandpaper inside her pussy, he was going to throw a fuck into her. He didn't fuck her just once, he banged her twice. He kept on fucking her even after he had shot his load up her cunt the first time. The second fuck was better than the first because her cunt was lubricated with his scum. There was one consolation. She was as tight as a rubber band on his cock and he liked that and during the second fuck he thought about Clara Taite and that helped to make Ida seem like a better fuck.
When he was finally finished, he just rolled off his wife and went to sleep.
Ida abruptly came awake; it was as though a switch had been thrown in her body. She was fully aware of everything, the moonlight streaming in through the windows, the fading echoes of the clock downstairs striking two, the breathing of the man who stood beside the bed.
Perhaps it was the moonlight that made everything seem as though it were happening in a dream, that her mind was elsewhere-confined to limbo.
"Ida?" Even Jim's voice seemed different, accented.
She turned and looked up at him. In the unreal light he seemed taller, older than Jim. He looked like someone she knew, but the vaporous quality of the moment refused to solidify. 'This man is your husband," a voice in her brain whispered.
"Yes, Jim."
"Good, you're awake." The covers were pulled back and the figure slid into bed with her. She felt his body move in next to hers; then the body was pressing nakedly and urgently against her side. With a sudden tightening of her muscles and a feeling of despair, Ida realized Jim had a hard-on and was probably going to try to fuck her again. Against her hip, his dong felt different-considerably smaller, but hard!
"Are you all right?" she asked, knowing full well what he wanted.
Jim laughed; he sounded so very different, but her mind kept saying, "This is your husband."
His voice said, "Well, darling. I'm not really all right. I have this problem which only you can take care of." He moved his prick suggestively up and down against her side.
"Jim, I don't think I can do it again tonight. I'm much too sore. It's so painful."
"Then we simply have to do it another way, won't we, pet?" He had taken her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. His breath had a vaguely exciting hot whiskey smell as his lips kissed her eyes closed. His hot, wet tongue sought out her ear; she stiffened as it shot into the cavity like a small darting fish seeking shelter. The sensation, though strange, was definitely erotic. Jim had never kissed her this way before! Then his tongue was in her mouth, tracing wild abandoned designs against her teeth and inner folds of her lips. This, too, was exciting in a way it had never been before. She began responding eagerly; once, when her tongue hit his upper lip, she thought, how strange, Jim has grown a mustache.
"You wonderful creature," he said, just as his hands began moving all over her body. He went first to the flushed bulbs of her boobs, and each individual pore of his fingers seemed to be minute vacuums tugging at her flesh. He tongue-kissed her again, then his lips fastened-gently sucking-at a place where her gracefully sloping neck muscles joined the top of the shoulders. A tingle of excitement arched along the muscles. He moved her elbow out from the body and his mouth moved down until it was licking and kissing at the sensitive flesh on the inner arm and armpit. A moment later, slowly and tantalizing, his lips kissed their way to the left tit. She felt him there at her nipple, like a thirsty person sucking juice from luscious fruit. Not once, in his gentleness did he hurt her.
As his teeth teased sensuously at her nipples and his knowing hands kneaded the flesh of her buttocks, Ida suddenly realized that her body was reacting in a most pleasurable manner. She purred deep in her throat as his lips moved on to her right tit, then to her right armpit and traced an exciting trail of fiery desire down across her rib cage to her navel. One of his hands left the pleasantly tingling mounds of her flesh and, using the fingertips only, began stroking the underside of her knee and the soft inner sides of her thigh.
"Ummmmmm," she purred, as his tongue flickered at her navel. Ida wasn't exactly sure when his fingertips brushed against her pubic hair, all she knew for sure was that suddenly he had reached the muff. She gave a little gasp of fright and flattened her buttocks down into the mattress; his hand was trapped, unable to move. He sought to move his fingers, but her thighs were like a hot flesh vise. "Ida," he said, "open your legs."
"No, it hurts."
"Daddy will kiss it to make it better."
What had he said? What did he mean? Kiss it! "Jim?" she began questioningly, but she had her answer in the next moment, for his tongue had left the warm, cottony cave of her belly button and marched boldly across the bare plains of her abdomen and into the silken forest of her sparse, blonde pubic hair.
"Jim?" she groaned again, not certain exactly what he was doing. In her anxiety, or perhaps it was merely subconscious desire, she eased the pressure of her thighs and his hand was freed from captivity. She tensed it again as he nuzzled his cheek in the fleece of her pubic mound and used his thumb and forefinger to slightly separate the soft, fleshy lips of her monkey. Oddly enough, he was so gentle that she hardly felt his touch, much less pain. She was suffering from apprehension and indecision, however. Whatever Jim had in mind was something totally alien to her-something she had never heard about, never even suspected. He moved his head down to her thigh and kissed it-starting once again with that extremely sensitive area behind the knee, moving upward-ever upward-occasionally taking large sucking erotic bites of the inner thigh flesh into his mouth, and at other times using his tongue as a stylus to sear flaming trails of desire into her trembling body.
Then his tongue reached the soft, protruding folds of her young, pulsating pussy. She sat upright, forcing his head away. "No, Jim, no."
"Why not?"
"I hurt there."
"I'll kiss the boo boo and make it better," he repeated softly, his voice droning smoothly like a recording.
"No, it still hurts," she pulled his head up to tit level. She felt it necessary to say something-anything! She took a deep breath. "Jim, I've never told you this. I don't know why I'm saying it now. But you must be gentle and understanding with me. My mother and my aunt and all the females on my mother's side for as far back as we can remember have had something wrong with them. I didn't know about it until the day before the marriage or I would have told you. Sexual intercourse is extremely painful. It hurts. So you must be gentle with me and not expect too much." Even as she said it, her mind was reeling in guilt and she felt like weeping. She had planned to keep this her secret; and now, for some reason, she was blurting it out. Maybe, she thought desperately, I'm really looking for help. Maybe Jim and I working can solve this thing. She was not prepared for his sudden bark of laughter.
"What absolute bullshit," he said, unkindly.
"I mean it, Jim," she said, pleading for understanding.
"Look, my little pet. I know something-a great deal about women's problems. What you claim is something that simply is not organically possible. Psychologically possible, yes! I won't bore you with technical terms, it is just old wives tales that bring on hysteria."
"I tell you it hurts; it's excruciating."
"You think it hurts. You've been brain-washed. And I am going to prove it. Remember, I am your husband. Repeat that!"
"You think it hurts. You've been brain-washed." She heard the words, they seemed to come from someone other than herself. She had no will to resist; her body felt as though it had turned to foam rubber.
"I am your husband and I will not harm you. You will answer my questions truthfully."
"I will answer your questions truthfully."
"Ida, have you ever reached a climax-had an orgasm? Any kind of orgasm even from masturbation."
"No, I have never masturbated to completion. It is self-abuse, sinful."
"I thought so. All right, now lie there, relax and let your body speak to you about how it really feels." He began kissing her tits again.
His mouth moved away from her tits after a moment and began nibbling at the small folds of flesh right below her navel. He gently bit a particularly sensitive area where her hip bone and upper thighs joined. Her body had begun to purr again. Then his hot, hungry mouth spread the soft, fleecy pubic hair and fastened over the fleshy opening of the twat tunnel leading to her womb. A sudden jolt of pure feeling arched through her loins as he began noisily sucking the cunt lips; it was a gentle vacuum, tugging and caressing the nerve ends. "Ahhhh," she crooned softly.
"Ahhhhhh!" she repeated, this time loudly, as his tongue began licking the entire length of her open cuntal slit-running from asshole to clit.
"Ahhhhhh! Ooooohhh!" she gasped, as first his lips and then his teeth found the hard little clit. She strained her hips up to his mouth, arching her back and planting her feet in the mattress in an effort to rise and meet him.
"AAAHHHHHH!" she screamed, as his hot, quivering tongue went boldly into the tunnel of her cunt, moving in and out as though it were a small sure prick. She was aware that her breath was coming raggedly from her taut lips, that she had reached down to his head-not to push him away, but to keep him there forever! Some shrill, hysterical voice-which sounded somewhat like a tiny hollow echo of auntie's was screaming in the nethermost regions of her mind that this was wicked, perverted, that it was painful! The gratifying, wonderful sensations in her snatch pushed that shrill voice back, back, back, until it was obliterated by another scream; this scream was one of passion boiling out of her lips, out of her soul.
Oh, how his tongue and lips and teeth all worked together in a fully orchestrated symphony of pure feeling! She could feel things happening down there-wild, uninhibited, beautiful things-of nerve endings singing and screaming in delight, of muscles flexing and unflexing in joy, of flesh and bone and pores all in harmony. She was revolving her hips in a grinding, circular motion against his avaricious, indomitable mouth.
"Don't stop, Jim. Oh, God, don't stop, darling!" she panted, for now something was happening down there. Everything was rubbing against each other-like nylon and wool-throwing off sparks which were igniting the gangliosa. She had never thought she would feel this; she thought she was incapable of it. And then, as though a miracle, she was cuming! She could tell because body and soul were separating.
"Uhhhhhh? Ahhhhhhhh!" It was a question, a plea. She raised her buttocks clear up from the mattress and, as she did so, his tongue left her cunt and his teeth and lips clamped hard on her gently pulsating clit. She screamed and she knew she was screaming loudly. "Go on! Go on! Go!" Now, like desert mirages in midday's heat, her womb began to dissolve-shimmering into incandescent nothingness. Her insides had become roaring cataracts racing and dancing toward the sea and their white waters bubbled, raged, boiled and spurted from her cunt-like torrents from a broken dam-as she screamed again, "I'm cuming!" There was nothing in the universe but that one great pit and pendulum of sensation and release. Her ears heard not, her eyes saw not, her mind thought not. Only the cunt was there-the almighty cunt! Stronger than all her other organs put together, and it screamed out a song of ecstasy that would not be denied. That sweet intolerable delight stayed with her for ten million eternities, and during it all she lay gasping and thrashing that only thing in her body against his voraciously hungry lips.
It finally ended. Not with a bang, but like the slow fading of summer's first sunset. She felt him kiss the warm flooded area between her thighs once more then his mouth moved back to her hips. She could feel her cum cool and damp on her thighs and buttocks. Then he used his free hand to turn her on her side. He kissed the right buttock, then continued to press her over until she was lying face down. Ida didn't resist; her will power had been completely vaporized by the velvet explosion that had only moments ago torn her still-quivering belly asunder.
Sensation was slow to return, but when it did, she was aware that he was reverently kissing her smooth, oval buttocks. Occasionally, he would desist to lick a teasingly sensitive spot at the base of her spine, but he always came back to the soft, rounded mounds of flesh to kiss and gently nibble. A warm glow began to spread throughout her anal area as new and recharged blood pounded through the revitalized muscle paths, arteries and capillaries.
She heard him mutter as though he were an art connoisseur, "Such untouched beauty ... such a sweet young little ass. So supple and so soft and warm, so charmingly shaped and virginal."
Now, he gradually began to change his activity there. He interspersed his kisses with occasional sharp little bites. They weren't painful-not too painful. They were, she had to admit, rather exciting. Ida sensed he was getting ready to do something different again, and she mentally told herself that no matter what he did it would be heavenly if it were even only half as delightful as the thing he had just done. Nothing, though, had prepared her for what came next. His kisses, his rabbitlike nibbling, became more urgent. Suddenly, he pushed her legs apart and then knelt behind her. She felt him use his thumbs to spread her soft, yielding buttocks wide apart and then his tongue was moving again, now licking the inner crevice that joined her cuntal slit below.
Once she had recovered from her momentary flush of embarrassment, she thought that it was an odd sensation. Not displeasing, not really pleasurable or erotic-"strange" was the word. His hot, wet, trembling tongue moved the length of her asshole; she felt the first stirrings of excitement when it lingered over the base of her spine again. Then he backed off and down. "Jim," she gasped, as she felt his tongue tip quiver against and then wetly worm its way into her tiny, puckered shit passage. A forbidden, wicked pleasure shot through her loins. "You mustn't," she groaned, "it's not right."
Now he pulled his mouth away. "Anything is right between a man and a woman-so long as it gives pleasure and not offense. And I know you're having pleasure. You're a natural for this. Believe me, I can tell."
"But, but...."
He laughed. "But is right. You have a delightful little butt. And I'm going to make love to you there. I'm going to fuck you there, Ida."
"Oh, no, darling, you can't!" she protested.
"Any why not?"
"It isn't right, darling, it just isn't right!" she moaned down into the pillow.
He repeated, "Anything is right between a husband and a wife." Then he lowered his head again. She felt his hands beneath her hips pulling her belly up off the mattress. She wasn't kneeling exactly, but her smooth, rounded buttocks waved up in the air like an ostrich's. She felt foolish in that position; she felt obscenely naked with her unprotected behind upturned that way. But, still, he was her husband, and he wouldn't hurt her.
She felt his tongue leave her asshole to be replaced by a finger that probed as if it, too, wanted to enter the tight, forbidden passageway and she immediately tensed. Then, suddenly, he reached up, grabbed a pillow, and slipped it behind her stomach to keep her from falling flat again. At the same time, the finger back there had begun a gentle sawing movement against her tightly puckered anal ring. Now he was pressing in tighter, tighter. She winced and groaned, trying to push her belly down into a pillow and abruptly the fingernail portion of the digit was inside her. She was rather surprised. Somehow she had thought it would hurt, but it didn't. It was, if she were honest with herself, sort of pleasant-as long as she relaxed and didn't fight it.
Now he was sawing continuously-nothing abrupt-always gentle, but always pressing in a bit deeper. She moved her hips experi mentally, then discovered the best movements were ones using the leg and belly muscles to raise her buttocks back.
"That's a good girl," he said soothingly. "Such a good girl, with such a fine little asshole. You'll need next to no instruction. Pure instinct, I wager."
"Jim, you mustn't talk like that," she protested through her soft mewls of pleasure. Her protest was rewarded by laughter from him.
Finally the finger was in all the way up to the knuckle and his palm was pressing tightly against the cheeks of her buttocks as he began to make tiny circular motions inside with his finger-almost as if he wanted to expand the opening. A moment later, the first finger withdrew. She wanted to fart, but held back-much too embarrassed. When the finger returned, it seemed much thicker. Then she realized that he was using two fingers. "That hurts," she whimpered slightly, knowing it was a lie, but feeling she had to protest anyway.
"Be calm, my love. It can't hurt much, you'll be fine in a second!"
Actually, she thought, it really wasn't painful, but she knew she was being stretched there. She supposed that his two fingers, however, were less in diameter than her crappings; she remembered as a child having wondered how something so large could come from such a tiny opening.
The two fingers were sawing in concert now. She wiggled her buttocks in the air and she felt her muscles, deep in her belly, milk at the fingers. This brought delighted laughter from her husband.
"Wait," he said, "until I get in there. Then do it all you want." He took a deep breath, "I knew you were a natural."
Ida's thoughts were jumbled. She knew instinctively that this wasn't right. Yet, at the same time, it was mysteriously exciting. She felt subjugated and completely at the mercy of her husband. She blushed deeply when the pressure became so intense that she farted loudly. The sound was rewarded by a laugh and a hard bite on her right buttocks. His two fingers made circular motions in her rectum; it was being stretched, stretched, stretched. Now she began to feel a compelling urge to have his fingers in there deeper. She pushed back against them, groaning slightly once as she felt his fingernail hang up against a fold of membrane, and tossed her head abandonedly from side to side in rhythm with his finger fucking motions in her rectum.
Then, suddenly he withdrew his fingers. She could feel the rubbery elastic-like ring of her asshole clinging to them-reluctant to let them go and then, out they came with a wet, hissing noise like that of a deflating balloon.
She turned her head, disappointed, to find out why he had stopped. He was stroking his prick, and she could see the thick, white foreskin moving back and forth over the instrument's head.
Then he was between her legs. His hands reached beneath her and cupped her thighs-holding them tightly. She felt him move forward until his cock was pressing against the puckered brown aperture. She suddenly realized that his prick was considerably larger than just two fingers; she wouldn't be able to take it. He should be able to see that! Still the pressure continued, the prick moving gently, always gently, gradually insinuating its way through the tight opening stretching it wider and wider until finally the head of it was completely in. She was pleasantly surprised, even proud of herself; it hadn't hurt very much at all.
"Try to shit or fart," her husband said.
"Jim!" It was a shock to hear him use language like that.
"Try, it will go in easier."
Ida pressed down with her abdominal muscles and was relieved to discover that part of the pressure had been removed. It was fine, just fine.
She felt him begin to move in deeper, and all of a sudden, at about the two inch mark, he began to hurt her terribly. She tried to push forward into the pillow, but his hands held her thighs captive.
"That hurts," she winced, meaning it this time. "It's hurting terribly!"
He paid no attention to her, just continued his inexorable pressure inward.
Now, there was genuine pain in the pit of her stomach. Not pussy pain, but pain from her protesting bowels as the fleshy, reaming rod moved deeper and deeper against the normal flow of traffic in her shit passage. "It's too big," she whimpered. "Please stop! Oh, God, darling, please stop!"
Escape was impossible. She was impaled there like a captured butterfly. He was using her body like a wheelbarrow, his hands holding her thighs, his legs keeping her legs well separated.
"Raise up," he ordered.
It was so painful that she would gladly obey any order, just to relieve the pain. She raised her buttocks a bit, and the prick slid smoothly and deeper up her ass. It moved quickly until suddenly she felt his pubic hair slap hard against her ass.
"Gaaaggghhh," she groaned. God how it hurt! It was simply impossible to think. The pain was even more intense because now she was feeling degraded, abused. The excitement she had felt with his fingers in there had gone-being ripped away by the reality and overpowering presence of that hot, pulsating log lodged in her asshole.
He began moving in and out like a well-oiled piston. Her asshole made gasping, sucking noises with each movement. "Oh, ohhhhhh," she gasped with each new thrust inward.
He stopped for a moment, and Ida realized he was panting in delight. He asked, "Do you remember what you did a moment ago with your belly muscles? I want you to do it again."
"I don't know what you mean," she gasped through pain contorted lips, not really remembering.
"Imagine you are standing with your legs spread wide apart. Imagine you have a string attached to your belly button; at the end of the string is a ball. Without moving your feet, lift the string. Lift your navel and pull the ball off the ground."
Ida concentrated for a moment, then inhaled deeply and at the same time tightened and lifted her stomach muscles.
"Ahhhh, God!" he shouted, his voice gurgling with glee. "Again. Ahhhh! Oh, God! Again and again!"
Each time she lifted the imaginary ball, she was rewarded with a joyous shout and a deeper thrust into her clenching shit passage. He sawed in and out of her asshole-rhythmically-plunging deep into those softer, darker areas of her being which she had never known existed.
Ida had begun to feel a change in her asshole, and this was accomplished by a change in her attitude. She wanted to please her husband. She still felt degraded and helpless, but the mere hopelessness of her position made it all acceptable. She was beginning to experience some masochistic enjoyment from those thrusts, and she knew instinctively that she could enjoy them even more by rearing back to meet his thrusts. She began doing so, and was pleased by his low pitched moan of responding pleasure.
She moved her firm white buttocks in tiny, little circles-weaving it in the air like a balloon on the end of its tether. She pulled up imaginary balls by the dozens; she pressed down as though she hadn't shit in a year. His yelps of contagious enjoyment encouraged her. Gradually, she began feeling a weird glow illuminating her inner bowels. It wasn't possible, she thought. Not this way, not this way! Can a woman cum this way too? Nerve ends were beginning to telegraph messages, and muscles were beginning to vibrate like steel rails precursing the train.
After a moment's hesitation, she discovered her rectal passage could be tightened two or three times at the end of each outward stroke-bringing greater pleasure to her and deeper groans of happiness from him. At the end of his inward thrust, she flexed her deepest anal muscle against the head of his cock. "God!" was all he said. She suddenly realized as she tossed her head wantonly from side to side that she was enjoying this cruel debasement. She also realized, with a rapid catch of breath, that she could cum like this if she worked at it-concentrated on it.
Now, breathing stentoriously, her husband pulled the hot, throbbing cock all the way out to the glans, then shoved it desperately in as a prelude to the final act and curtain.
"Ahhhhh!" she moaned, and there was no longer any pain in her voice, only encouragement and lust.
Now, with long, hard, unending thrusts, he began to batter her quivering buttocks. He gasped like a man who had run the marathon. She was being skewered like a wounded carcass, split right down the middle. And she didn't care. She didn't care! She became aware of a velvet feeling throughout the pit of her stomach. Once again she thought, could it be? Could it really be?
"Eeeeaaahhhh!" he was making noises like a rusty creaking door.
"Ahhhhhh!" she returned, attempting to say, "deeper, deeper, harder, harder," but unable to put the words into sentences. She was astonished and hopeful and pleased!
Her head was tossing back and forth uncontrollably now as the two bodies moved like suddenly insane puppets released from their master's strings. He murmured incoherently as his hands finally let go of her thighs, and she felt his fingernails cruelly bite into the folds of skin in front of her hipbones as he sought new purchase. It hurt her. It hurt her! And she wanted to be hurt!
Then she felt the one last mighty thrust which drove the swollen rod up to the furthest point it had been; she made her muscles up there grab hold of it and milk it. The prick spurted, then began twitching as he came deep, deep in her shit hole, giving her a scum enema. He cried out, and his strangled voice was the thing that triggered her own explosion. It was a different feeling than before-much different, deeper, a different set of muscles, nerves, and bones crying out their happy defiance to normality. "Ahhhhh, aeeeee!" she screamed and above her own shouts, she could hear his, "Beautiful, wonderful, aaaaahhhh!" He smartly whacked at her blushing buttocks with his open hand as though he were encouraging a race horse on to greater effort.
Some time later, as she lay there, feeling the velvet and warm satin of her glands and nerves, she seemed to hear the far-off sound of a stranger's voice saying, "You have been dreaming. You will awaken tomorrow; it will have been a dream about your husband. Tomorrow night, you will awaken at the same time and your husband will be your husband. Tonight was only a dream. Repeat please."
Her voice, from beyond the furthermost part of the galaxy answered, "It was a dream. Tomorrow night I will awaken...."
Ida was beginning to float off to sleep again. But before she went under completely the thought went through her mind that this had to be a dream. She would never do those things to her husband, and he would never do them to her. They were evil and dirty things that they had done to one another. Things that no two people would ever do when they were awake and fully conscious. Yes, it was a dream, but there was part of that dream that she wished were real. The part where her husband had placed his lips on her monkey and then shoved his tongue inside. Yes, she wished that Jim would do that when they were awake because it gave her pleasure. She wished that she could react that way to Jim when she was awake and not feel the pain, then she was truly asleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Jim sat up in bed with a start and looked quickly at Ida. With a sigh of relief, he realized that he was in bed with his wife. He smiled to himself at how realistic his dream had been. He wondered why his wife had fucked him so well in his dream. No, it wasn't his wife, it was Clara. No, it was his wife, but in the dream, she looked like Clara and she fucked the way he thought Clara would fuck.
He threw back the covers and looked at his cock. It was covered with dried scum. What a wild, fucking dream that was.
He remembered waking up next to Ida, only it really wasn't Ida, it was Clara. Oh, to hell with it, he thought; what does it matter? The dream was the thing! In the dream he had awakened to find himself stripped and lying next to his nude wife. It was the way he had been awakened that was interesting. His wife had been fondly stroking his cock, crooning over it, admiring its size and beauty.
She had kissed him and her mouth was all honey and heat and tongue. And she had placed his head against her tit and fed him like a hungry infant. And then she had stroked his cock again and told him she wanted it deep inside her.
His wife had said, "With a cock like yours, I want a real ham and egg fuck, at least the first time. Tomorrow night, you're going to eat it. Tonight, though, you'll just fuck it till I go crazy!"
The term had eluded him; he'd never heard it before. "A ham and egg fuck?" he asked.
"Honey," she had explained patiently, "a ham and egg fuck is a straight fuck. You on top of me with my legs wrapped around you-nothing weird-just good, plain, old-fashioned fucking. Bang, bang, oh, glorious bang!"
She bent her knees, placing her feet right up next to her buttocks. Then she spread herself for him. "Come on in, the water's fine," she crooned, her black eyes aflame with lust and smiling wickedly through bared teeth. Her cunt was smiling, too, its raven, hair-lined cunt lips already moist with its lust. And the clit standing like a cribbage peg.
He entered her with a rush. "Gaaaggghhh!" she moaned happily as the cock rode up like a non-stop elevator. His balls slammed in against her asshole, bringing a low groan of pain-delight from his wife. Her legs uncoiled and then her calves were against his buttocks, her heels and toenails were used as spurs. She began grinding her ass into the mattress, making sharp little circular motions that were viciously exciting. He really didn't have much moving to do; she did most of it, arching her back and using her legs on his buttocks as though she were hanging from a trapeze. She was the master of the moment; she was the director, star, manager, boss. His hot male shaft drove into the target, and with each new thrust, her open pussy became juicier-the bulls-eye hotter. His wife was lying there-taking it all-breathing heavily through nostrils that expanded and contracted like the diaphragm on an underwater breathing apparatus. "Slowly," she commanded, and it was a definite order, not to be disobeyed.
Suddenly, there was a shimmering of consciousness and a strange heat was on him. Always he had tried to be gentle, if possible. He didn't like the queenly attitude of his wife. Now for some sadistic reason he only vaguely understood, he wanted her to know that there was only one boss at a time like this-the male! Actually, he wanted to hear her submit completely and actually plead for mercy. He withdrew his cock until only the head was still buried in the pussy folds. His wife looked up angrily and said, "Keep going, you fool. I said, 'slowly,' not stop!"
He grinned down at her, then shoved forward as viciously as he could.
"Aaggggghhhhh!" she screamed, and he knew he was hurting her-knew he was scraping and rattling like a runaway horse along each dark curve and bend of her twat tunnel. He felt his cock abruptly slap up against the far wall of her uterus. He immediately withdrew it once more and slammed all its eight inches into the covering hole. "Goddamnit," the woman moaned, "I said take it easy; you're hurting me!"
Now, J im felt as though he were a human pile driver. He had a massive steel beam which had to be driven through that quivering quicksand into bedrock. He began driving in-without pity-hearing her groan and moan beneath him. Once, their pelvises crashed together so hard that he was sure he had broken something. His prick had grown to astronomical size; it was as if it had a mind of its own-a predatory destroyer rampaging through the warm jungles of her defenseless cunt.
He glanced down at the female. Her mouth was laxly open, and her breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders as though she were trying to take wing and fly. She was panting and her eyes were rolling wildly. She was close to cuming. Well, fuck it!
With sadistic pleasure, he withdrew his cock completely. Her haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it. "What's wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now-you can't stop!"
"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.
She guessed his purpose. "You goddamned impudent son of a bitch-fuck me!" she hissed and then grabbed his balls and yanked so hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by their roots. Her fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.
Jim reacted much the same as a bull being pricked by a picador. He charged! "Why you ... you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head flew back against the pillow; her eyes glazed from the blow. The pain in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now. He wanted to hurt her more than he had ever wanted to hurt anyone in his life.
He put his steel-hard cock against her tender monkey mouth and shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered between them like a frightened owl in the branches of a tree. It gave him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he reached the virginal territory.
In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die even when she screamed, "I'm cuming. Fuck harder, you fucking stud. I'm cuming!" Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft, but he kept her pinned there. She groaned and fell back-no longer fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding mindlessly into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cuming again! Aiiiieeee!" This was followed within seconds by another cry of release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began running together in one continuous lightning bolt of ecstasy glowing and dancing across her wildly clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes rolled up into her head and she passed out completely. Jim propped up on her knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple, she remained unconscious. Then, grinning sardonically, he made one-two-three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its scalding hot cum directly against the hot, still slightly pulsating walls of her subservient cunt. God, how she had cum! It was the cum of a conqueror fucking a helpless female captive-a slave of lust-the cum of hatred and mastery-but not of love!
He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to victorious sleep.
Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice sleepily saying, 'That was the best fuck I've had in years. Simply years, darling, but you were a very bad boy. You hurt me. I know you must have ripped something inside me-you lovable, uncontrollable bastard."
And still later, the voice said, "Repeat after me. At two o'clock tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your room and when you awake tomorrow morning, it will all seem like a dream. It will have been a dream-you were fucking your wife."
Just before the final oblivion came, he thought he heard her laughter and thought he caught the words, 'Tomorrow night, my dear, I'll not let .you off the leash like tonight. Tomorrow you are going down between my legs and eat it!"
What a screwy dream! Really wild! As if his bride would ever talk or act like that. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb her, he got out of bed and went to the shower.
As he stepped under the stream of hot water, he laughed and said aloud, "I feel listless, man, almost as if I really had been screwing all night."
He stood under the needle point spray and let the water beat against his body. Thinking about his dream had given him a fantastic hard-on. Jim knew that the dream was mostly wishful thinking on his part-wishing that Ida would react with some heat when he fucked her. His hard-on was really bothering him and he knew that it was not going to go away by itself so he soaped his hand and began to do something that he thought that he would never have to do again after he was married, he began to jerk off. The more he pulled on his prick the more he thought about the dream so that when he finally began to cum, it was with such force that his legs almost collapsed under him. He had to control himself to keep from screaming out loud. It he did that he was sure to awaken Ida and he didn't want her to know that her darling husband pulled on his own prick.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next day, Tex Walker, the oilionaire, and his wife Abbey arrived. Jim and Ida were introduced to them. They spoke to the people politely as the two honeymooners were anxious to be off to the lake and a boat ride.
Jim wasn't impressed by the old oil baron at all. He felt the man was pleasant enough but a bit dried up. Jim's thought was that the old bastard probably hadn't had a hard-on since the Mexican War. His wife was something else again. Jim knew she was a bull-dyker of the first order and couldn't understand why Tex Walker had married her or why she had married Tex.
Ida thought that Tex Walker was a very nice old man. She thought of him as she would the old time westerner who came out to Texas and whipped together an empire. His wife was the one that scared Ida. She was built like a man-much bigger and broader than her husband who was such a slight man. The woman even had her hair cut short and wore a pants suit that made her look even more masculine.
After a few moments of polite conversation, Jim excused himself and Ida and the young couple went off to their room to change for their boat ride.
Taite had shown Tex to his room. The two men stood at the window watching as the boat glided around a point of land and disappeared from sight.
"Hot damn, the girl's really something!" Tex said admiringly, as he laid down the binoculars he had been using to study Ida's tits and legs.
Taite snorted, "You don't know the half of it!"
"Why you old bush-wacker. I suppose you've already sampled the merchandise."
"Merely my official duties as official taster to the oil king."
"And how did it taste?"
"All honey, you dirty old fucker," he laughed.
Tex cocked one eyebrow in amusement. "I don't suppose you stopped with that. A bit of dirt roading, perhaps? How was that?"
Taite stopped smiling. He stared at him and said with great simplicity, "Incredible. Absolutely incredible! She has the most phenomenally talented asshole reactions of any novice I have ever met. The first time, the very first time she's ever assfucked and already she reacts like a specialist."
"Come now, Taite. She can't be all that good."
"She is! Furthermore, she's so innocent, so naive, that one would almost suspect she's acting."
"Perhaps she is."
"No, she isn't putting on." He paused, thoughtful. "I really suppose I should try to cure her hysteria before we start our training sessions."
"Hysteria?"
Taite continued, "The silly little bitch thinks that fucking is painful for her. She's been brainwashed by someone. Some stupid relative probably."
"Well, it's our Christian and charitable duty to do all we can to bring joy to her life," Tex said, biting his lip and grinning broadly.
Taite's stare was enigmatic. "She has a great deal of joy already, providing she can learn to relax."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Brace yourself. I know that this will come as a traumatic shock. The boy could loan you a couple of inches and he'd never miss it."
Tex glared, 'That's supposed to be a joke?"
"No. The truth. You might ask Clara. He went in so deep that she was sure she'd been injured; she even had me do a pelvic examination for her this morning to make sure that nothing was ripped."
"I don't believe it!"
Tim shrugged. "You'll have your chance to see him in action with Clara tonight after we get our pictures."
Tex was still shaking his head and muttering in disbelief when Tim left him ten minutes later. He went to the window and noticed that the boat had come into sight again. His mouth watered as he thought of the enjoyment to come to him tonight and the delights-the sheer delights-that would come tomorrow when the girl would be forced to do anything he asked.
Aboard the boat, Ida watched Jim. She sat on a big red flotation cushion which also served as a lifebuoy in case of capsizing. How sure he seemed of himself, she thought. How very poised for a young man, and how very handsome. She was so proud of him. She shifted her buttocks against the cushion, seeking a more comfortable position. That dream last night! That had been quite a dream-so real! And this morning she had awakened with her butt feeling very sore. She supposed the soreness had something to do with the breaking of her cherry. Her monkey still ached, odd about that part of the dream, too. She felt a vague stirring of excitement as she remembered Jim's tongue and lips down there in her dream. She resolutely told herself that it was Jim in the dream, even though he had Captain Taite's features. That coupled with Jim's putting his thing in her behind! Men didn't do that to women! Or did they? She wished life was that simple-that men and women could just do it any old way they wanted and enjoy it. Perhaps some did. In her case, she knew it was wishful thinking anyway. She wasn't normal, she knew it now. It was all well and good to have a dream where you reached a climax two different ways, but reality was a different thing-and reality had already proven that her auntie was right; Ida was constitutionally unable to enjoy sex because of the pain.
Abruptly she stiffened as she recalled another part of the dream. Again, in her mind, she heard the phrase, "hysteria." Now where did I ever hear that, she wondered.
"Penny," Jim said.
"What?"
"A penny for your thoughts."
She smiled and impulsively wrapped her arms around his outstretched legs. "I was just thinking how lucky I am-with you as a husband."
It was the truth, and she knew it.
He kissed the top of her head and then pointed to a small beach. It was hidden from the ranch and from other viewpoints. "What say we picnic-go swimming here tomorrow?"
The beach did look terribly inviting. "Oh, honey, can we?"
"I don't see why not. They told us the place was ours." He leered at her, and one eyebrow shot up suggestively. "We could even, ah, dispense with bathing suits. How about that?"
She pretended he was making a joke, even though she I'll knew he was probably serious. "Jim! I'm surprised at you!"
Her blushing protest brought laughter from him.
An hour later, they were tying up the boat.
"Can I help store things or anything?" Ida asked.
Jim shook his head, "I can manage. Why don't you run on in and put on some dry clothes."
Ida shivered. "I am getting a little chilly to tell the truth."
"Take a real hot shower then."
Ida kissed him, then headed toward the ranch. Jim watched her buttocks swing inside the tight little shorts and pursing his lips, made a loud wolf whistle. Ida looked back-grinning and pleased-then laughed raucously as the two dogs came racing over to him and jumped on board, barking excitedly.
Ten minutes later, Jim completed the securing of the boat and went upstairs to their rooms. "Ida," he called, when he opened the door. There was no answer. Then he heard the water running in the shower. The urgency hit him almost immediately, and his cock started growing painfully. He left his clothes in an untidy heap on the floor and padded into the shower room. Ida was humming a song above the sound of the water. Jim looked down at his hard-on, now standing out in front of him as though an inflexible pole had been driven into his midriff.
Grinning wickedly, and feeling extremely aroused, he stepped into the steam-laden shower room.
Ida had her back toward him. She had lathered herself all over and the white soap bubbles clung lovingly around her shining pink cheeks. Very kissable, he thought.
Slowly, Jim put his hands around her and cupped both of her tits.
She screamed and spun around, eyes wide in fright. Then she closed her eyes and sighed, "My God, how you scared me. My heart feels like its going to pound right out of my body."
"Yeh, I can feel it." Jim grinned and gently squeezed her left tit.
Only then did she look shocked as if she suddenly realized where he was. "Jim, you shouldn't be, I mean...." she was flustered. He merely laughed and turned on the two other shower nozzles. Ida could feel one of them spraying against her buttocks. It stung sensually.
She watched as Jim took the soap and began lathering himself all over. The soapy water ran in a trail from his shoulders and breasts down to the pubic hair from which the long-range-cannon-like prick projected. He seemed terribly aroused she could tell by the way he acted, in addition to his hard-on. And, to be honest with herself, she was feeling a bit of wicked excitement herself.
"Turn around," he ordered, "and I'll wash your back for you."
Dimpling, Ida did as she was instructed. She felt the roughness of the wash cloth rubbing against her upper shoulders. Then he was moving down to a spot directly in back of her tits. She glanced down and saw that both of her nipples were erect and that her areoles were covered with foamy goose bumps. Now he was rubbing her buttocks-first roughly with the rag, then gently and lovingly with just his bare hands covered with slippery warm soap and water. She could feel the soap suds slithering down the crevice beneath her spine and abruptly she remembered the dream of being fucked that way. Jim's hands were all over her now. Tits, buttocks, abdomen.
She felt him move back from her for a second and, feeling disappointment, she turned and saw him lathering up his prick and pubic hair. Then he was back again, his huge hot cudgel pressing against the smooth, white cheeks of her buttocks, his chest hair against her smooth back. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, and lifted the hair from the nape of her neck and licked there. A shiver of delight went through her entire body. If her heart had been pounding before in fright, it was running away in excitement now. He pressed his prick forward into soapy buttocks. Ida stood there, feeling the exquisite sensations of his prick against the slippery cheeks of her ass. Then he slid it beneath her and it rubbed against her cunt. Immediately, she tensed. It hurt. Jim, however, was making no effort to penetrate.
She looked down at her front and could see the tip of his prick protruding out from the soft curls of her pubic hair. To her, it looked as if it were her own. Without volition and not really realizing what she was doing, she ran her hands down across her soapy belly, through her damp nest, and clasped the head of the cock in both hands. She squeezed. It was an electrifying thing for her; she had never touched him before-not this way, not in this manner. She could feel the current flowing between his cock and her hands. It was beautiful, it was exciting, it was the most sensual thing she had ever felt in her life-except for the silly dream, of course.
Jim felt her hands there and he groaned. God, he thought, I'm so excited I'm about to cum right now. I feel like a hopped-up high school kid getting his first piece of tail and cuming before he's even able to put it in. He began making little swaying movements to and fro, and his desire-hardened prick slid along the entire length of her cuntal crevice-from clit to asshole. She moaned. He wasn't sure whether it was one of pain or delight. A moment later, when she moaned again, he knew she liked it.
He had both of his hands on her hip bones now, moving them and her away from him, then back to him. There was friction-a hot, soapy, glorious friction on his cock. Friction from her cunt lips and hair, friction from the cheeks of her ass. Abruptly he became aware that Ida was doing an absolutely wild and wonderful thing with the muscles of her buttocks. She was flexing them, and with each movement he made, they tightened along both sides of his cock. He began moving faster and faster. He wanted to put it in her; he wanted to stick it in her cunt, her asshole, anywhere! He could feel the waiting load of scum in his balls beginning to boil impatiently.
Ida, gasping for breath, knew she wanted him inside of her bowels. She could remember the dream. She wanted him deep in her asshole! She wanted him inside her womb! She wanted him inside her belly, no matter how it hurt. She could feel all her nerves, all her muscles, all of everything crying for release. The only release would come from him being somewhere inside of her. She turned suddenly and the hardened prick slipped from between her legs. Jim groaned. Her open mouth reached up hungrily for his lips, and she savagely kissed him in an attempt to communicate her urgency, her acquiescence, her desire. Then, she forced her hand down to his straining cock. It took all the will power she owned to make her hand close around it. Jim groaned deep in his throat. She remembered Jane's activities with Joey. She moved her hand experimentally on the long, hard, hot shaft and could feel the skin moving-not the shaft itself. It feels like the scruff of a kitten's neck, she thought, then excited beyond belief, she began pumping on it. Jim had begun French-kissing her, and his hands had slipped down to her buttocks. He kneaded them, and she felt the most delicious of lewd sensations.
Ida was no longer attempting to stroke him; she was frantically pulling at the virile instrument-trying to pull it into her cunt-when Jim suddenly let out a low moan of delight and stopped breathing. The cock swelled in her hand and then she felt it begin throbbing. She watched it, fascinated, as the white, hot scum spurted out all over her belly and pubic hair; it ran in great white rivers to join the soapy trails streaming down her glistening thighs. Jim continued to cum, his prick continued to throb for almost a full minute. He kept his eyes closed in rapture during the entire thing. Finally, he sighed deeply as if just beginning to breathe again.
"Ummmmm, that was the greatest!" he said.
Ida blinked uncertainly, trying to assess her emotions. She was pleased that she had made him feel good; perhaps the word "pleased" wasn't strong enough. She was happy that she had been able to. It was her own feelings that were troubling her right now. She still felt the intolerable heat of her own desires-those strange, alien desires which she couldn't analyze. Ida knew that there had been a shameful, uninhibited moment there when she had actually wanted to bend over in front of him and spread her buttocks apart so he could insert his cock up her ass. Another moment she had felt the overwhelming need of having it-no matter how agonizing-put into her cunt. And there had been the feeling of that wonderfully strong piece of hard flesh beneath her hands. She had, when the heat had been the greatest, wanted to kiss it-to pay tribute to it. She knew now why some writers called it a "god head."
She looked down at Jim's cock. It was flaccid, barely three or four inches long, oozing white liquid and covered with soap suds. Then she threw back her head and began laughing. It was a laugh of relief, of happiness shared, of delight with the moment in time and space.
"What's wrong?" Jim asked, puzzled and feeling she was making fun of him.
Impulsively, she threw her arms around his waist and put her head against his chest: She was getting her hair all wet and she'd have a terrible time getting it set properly for dinner tonight, but she didn't care. "I lOve you," she said, squeezing him. She giggled again. "You felt just like a dying horse, twitching away there."
A second later he was laughing with her. And abruptly, Ida knew that everything was going to be all right between them, that sex would not be painful to her monkey once it had stretched a little and become accustomed to his size.
Within her body, the heat began building up again, yes, everything was going to be just perfect. Perhaps she would bend over Jim's prick one night and kiss it. Take it into her mouth perhaps-perhaps one night she might get up the courage to bend over and present her asshole to him and he would stick his magnificent tool up her ass just as it happened in her dream. Perhaps Jim would one night begin kissing her tits and work his way down to her belly and then continue his downward course until his lips were on her monkey. Yes, perhaps he would even stick his tongue up her pussy as he had done in her dream, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The entire day seemed to be a drag for Clara. She just couldn't wait for the evening to arrive so that she could get into the sack with Jim. Dinner had been such a bore that she wanted to jump up and scream and rape the boy right there at the dinner table. Her cunt was hot, itching, burning and dripping with lubricating juices. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have finger-fucked herself, but she wanted to save it all for the great evening with the young man who was built like a stud horse.
Now that Jim was in bed with her, she was still being frustrated. She couldn't do the things that she wanted to do, had to do, until her husband and Tex Walker had set up their camera equipment. If that old bastard, Tex, didn't have so much money and pay them so well, she would have liked to tell him to go and fuck himself.
Clara turned her attention back to Jim as he lay naked and sleeping on the bed next to her.
My God, she thought, I've never been so on fire before over a male. The boy was so young, so virile, so very masterful. And that cock of his-simply bull-like, with the balls to go along with it. To her it belonged in the Louvre museum alongside the other wonders of the world.
Clara's impatience had been building all day, and she had been in a state of complete arousal since early this morning. The knowledge of what she was going to make him do to her, together with what had happened between Tex's wife and Abbey and the new maid, had caused her sexual glands and emotions to run away with her.
Earlier, after her usual unsuccessful pass at Clara, Abbey had asked about the possibility of a young girl. Clara had replied there was one, a new maid especially hired for the occasion.
Clara said, "She's just seventeen. She's no virgin-not for your purposes, and certainly not from a male standpoint. I have a feeling she rather enjoys it any way she can get it. She came to us from a private school. Had to leave when some sort of scandal occurred."
"Scandal?" Abbey had arched her eyebrows hopefully.
Clara pursed her lips and grinned. "Ten girls. A daisy chain."
"And she was one of them?" Abbey's eyes were glowing with an unholy fire.
Clara nodded and waited a moment before dropping the bombshell. "She was the leader."
"Where is she? I must see her, immediately. Send her to me, quickly." The older woman was trembling as though suddenly afflicted with palsey.
Clara called down to the kitchen and asked that the new girl be sent up with a bottle for Abbey. Then she made her way through the secret passageway to a viewpoint above the room. Although Clara was not by nature a lesbian and derived only minor enjoyment from participation, she did feel it exciting to watch women working on each other. And this afternoon's episode had been very exciting.
The young maid had been obviously terrified with Abbey. She looked like some poor trapped animal suddenly thrust into a cage with a monster. She stood silently trembling in fear as the older woman made outrageous advances to her. Yet, it was not until Abbey had attempted to zip down the girl's uniform that the maid tried to escape.
"You young fool! Do you want me to tell your Miss Clara about that daisy chain at school?" Abbey shouted, her face red with anger. The girl wilted right on the spot. "Oh, ma'am, how could you know about that?"
"I know everything. Well, don't stall. Answer me. Are you to let me be nice to you and reward you with a gift of money later-or am I to inform on you and have you thrown out."
The girl had not answered, but her head lowered and her shoulders slumped.
Abbey grinned in triumph, then slowly began to undress the girl. She exclaimed over and kissed every feature of the girl, from the freckled and tight little tits to the overly large white hips and full buttocks. She almost went wild when the girl's soft brown pubic hair and pouting mound of venus was finally uncovered. The older woman had forced the girl to undress her, then Abbey shoved the maid's body back until her hips were on the bed. She forced the girl's legs apart.
From her vantage point, Clara had heard Abbey's loud groan of ecstasy as she peered between the girl's open thighs. Then, Clara saw what it was that had excited Abbey so much. The girl's clit. It was the size of a baby's little finger. It was fully erect now, and Abbey lost no time in clamping her hungry mouth and lips over it. The girl had squealed like a pig. Furthermore, she had cum within seconds and had flooded the wildly sucking woman's mouth with a cream thicker than honey. She continued to cum as Abbey's educated tongue and fingers wreaked a divine havoc through her sensitive cuntal region. The girl lay there helpless in desire and panting as the older woman moved the girl's legs onto the bed, straddled her, then lowered her own steaming cuntal lips to the girl's wide open mouth. The maid ate hungrily, eagerly, as Abbey continued her ministrations at the tender crotch. They both had screamed out their climaxes, the sweat had poured off their thrashing bodies, and their eyes rolled back and forth like maddened, stampeding cattle.
Somewhere during this, it was obvious to Clara that the maid was beginning to obtain control over the butch dyke. It was the girl who began directing operations, and it was she who-timidly at first, and then with increasing vigor-wormed a finger up the sweating asshole between Abbey's broad, white buttocks. The older woman groaned in pain and surprise, but a moment later was mewling in ecstasy as a second and third finger joined the first in an unbridled calvacade of shit box fingering.
And so it had gone for almost fifteen minutes. Abbey had finally called for a halt. Panting in exhaustion, she directed the still eager girl to a suitcase and told her to pull out an expensively tooled leather box. The box was opened and the girl, her eyes wide with surprise and admiration, reverently pulled out an eight-inch dildo from which two large inflated balls dangled. Clara continued to watch as the maid was instructed to fill the balls with hot water. When the dildo was strapped on, the girl went to work like a maniac on the older woman.
The sight was too much for Clara; she had begun rubbing her own heated pussy before gasping and running from the room. She couldn't watch any longer. If she'd found Jim at that moment she would have raped him on the spot. When she had seen the dildo, she had seen once again in her mind the mammoth tool of Jim's. It was almost the same size as the dildo; but more important, it was real! A real prick on a real man! So real, that she had felt it smashing into her pelvis once again like a pile driver.
Her blood continued to boil all through coffee, cocktails and dinner. It was all she could do to keep from reaching over under the table and grabbing Jim's cock. He would have been surprised, she thought. Surprised and pleased no doubt.
But now her long impatience had come to an end with the signal that the photographers were ready. She knew her twat was seeping-had been since earlier in the day-and was lubricated to the point where she could take him easily. First, though, there were the pictures. She nodded up toward the mirror, then turned to the sleeping boy. "Jim, wake up, you are with your wife."
Jim's legs twitched twice, then he yawned and opened his eyes. He blinked.
"Hello, darling," Clara said, and threw back the covers so that both of their nude bodies could be photographed.
"Hello, Ida?"
"Jim, kiss me."
The boy moved next to the woman's mature body; she strained her tits toward him. They lay side by side facing each other as he took her in his arms and kissed her. She threw one leg over his thigh and rubbed her pubic nest against his still-sleeping cock. It, too, came awake-terrifyingly so. She knew the photographs would be splendid, and now for the really candid shots.
She pulled her mouth away from his and forced him to turn over on his back. She began kissing him as she slowly drew a line with her tongue down across his chest, past the belly button, until she reached the pubic forest where one huge tree trunk grew to enormous height. She clamped her lips over it and was rewarded with a low moan of pleasure. She kept her mouth there until she was sure the photograph had been taken. Then she gave him a little nibble or two and used her tongue to tease the head-just as a reward. He moaned with each new thing she did.
Clara finally looked up at him. "Did that feel good, dear?"
He moaned his assent.
"Don't be selfish then. Eat me, too." She moved herself around until her head was pointing toward the mirror, then spread her legs in open invitation to his mouth to feast on.
Jim looked uncertain-not unwilling to participate-more as though he was unsure of exactly what to do. Clara said, "Don't be bashful. I'll tell you how to do it."
He moved directly to her open twat. He kissed it awkwardly. She half sat up and used her fingers to pull the cunt lips apart. "This," she said, tapping the protruding little knob, "is the clit. It is the most sensitive part of a woman's body. A kiss there is sensual beyond description. A sucking or slight nibble there is totally devastating in its beauty. A chewing motion on the labia is enough to make any woman insane with joy. Your tongue fluttering like a butterfly in the cunt itself will put me in absolute delirium."
She lay back allowing the sensations to wash over her like high tides at the equinox. He was understandably awkward at first, but then his dexterity and sureness grew as his tongue and lips accustomed themselves to their strange duties. She could feel herself building up to a climax as he licked away at her cunt. Then, abruptly, she remembered the photographs. "Stop," she ordered. Like a robot, he did as was directed.
She twisted around until her head was on the pillows. "Jim, let's do it together. Turn around dear." She guided his ass with her hands until his buttocks were above her head, his face poised directly above her widespread pussy. She slowly opened her legs and, at the same time, used her hands to pull his hips and giant cock down to her mouth. She lowered it to her like an oil well drill being put into the test hole. She kissed it reverently, then teased its knob with her teeth. Jim, meanwhile, eagerly went back to work using his tongue against her cunt. Despite all of her good intentions of doing everything right for the photographs, the taste of his cock in her mouth drove Clara right out of her mind. She began sucking avariciously, trying desperately to swallow its entire length. She wasn't sure what Jim was suddenly doing to her cunt that was different, but of the hundreds of men who had swirled their tongues between her thighs, she had never felt quite the same sensations before. He licked, then brutally bit the lips; the pain was exquisite. He used his chin to agitate her clit; the stubble of beard on his chin Was the same as sandpaper against the tiny, sensitive bud. She was panting now, she didn't care what happened. She rubbered her lips around his cock and reached up and used both hands to salaciously milk his giant balls dangling like gypsy earrings on both sides of her face.
Jim drove his tongue into the insatiable twat just as viciously as he had used his prick as a reaming instrument the night before. Clara tried to lift her buttocks to meet him, but he refused to let her move. She was losing control of the situation again; he was too masterful to be kept on a leash. He had broken his leash again, she knew it the moment that it happened. "Oh, God," she moaned as he bit her buttocks with enough strength to draw blood to the surface. Down his cock slammed into her throat. She could no longer breathe. She was choking to death. He was seemingly trying to dislodge her tonsils. Using her fingernails as sharp claws, she raked the back of his thighs in an effort to get breathing space, but it was futile. The pain merely drove his hardened rod of flesh down deeper int her aching throat. Clara knew she was helpless-helpless because of her own sensations down there. He was using he; mouth as a cunt! And suddenly she was there, cuming in torrents in his mouth-cuming as though something had been unleashed deep inside her pussy-treasures pouring out of an unlocked box. He drove his cock down past her tonsils, and the huge head ballooned as he reached his climax. So large was the exploding head, so big was the mouthful, that Clara couldn't even swallow. She made gagging noises as the hot scum poured down her open gullet and spilled out of both sides of her mouth. It streamed in a white river across her face, and some of it even ran up her nostrils and on both sides of her nose where it flowed out hotly into her eyes and ears.
And during it all, even when her body was whipping around in the uncontrollable frenzy of her orgasm, she kept thinking and saying to herself over and over again, "Oh, my God! What's happening to me? What's happening to me? It's never felt this good before."
Finally it passed. Jim lay alongside her now; he stared up at the ceiling, unmoving and unresponding. Clara reached over to the bedside table and pulled a paper handkerchief out of a box. She began wiping her eyes and ears and face. She was a mess. Christ, he had shot all over everything. Pillow, her hair, bedspread; there was even scum dripping from the headboard of her bed. The taste of his hot cream in her mouth was warm wine and intoxicating. Her body was at peace for the moment, but she knew the peace would not last long for even now she wanted that cock lodged deep inside her neglected womb.
Well, she thought, now is the time to go into my act. She smiled, unashamedly, up toward the mirror where she knew the two men and their cameras were watching. The eagerness was beginning in her loins; it was like the first zephyrs of an approaching gale.
"Jim, when I count to ten and snap my fingers you will awaken completely. You will not remember these instructions after you awaken. You will be completely awake and no longer under hypnotic control. You will be free to do anything you wish-leave or stay. One ... two ... three...." Clara finally reached "ten" and snapped her fingers. As she did so, she lay back on the bed-sobbing and shuddering.
Jim blinked. He looked at her. Suddenly, he realized where he was, and sat bolt upright in bed.
"I ... I...." he was speechless.
"Oh, how could you, Jim? How could you be so cruel? And I was growing so fond of you. I thought you were a gentleman."
"Clara, I ... I...." Quickly, he pulled the blue satin sheet up over his loins, and made an effort to cover her.
"Oh, don't talk to me, you beast."
Jim's face was wrinkled in bewilderment and something akin to fear. He put out a hand to her naked shoulder. "Clara, please! What happened? How did I get here?"
"Don't act so innocent. It's too late for that."
"I swear to you; I don't know what's going on."
She sobbed and the motion caused the sheet to fall away from her tit. Jim couldn't take his eyes from the soft, resilient mound of golden flesh; the areoles about the size of honey-colored fifty-cent pieces, the nipples standing erect like brown ivory temples to an unknown god. He wanted to kiss them, to tease them with the tip of his tongue-bite them until she screamed.
There was an alien taste in his mouth-musky, feral, exciting! He swallowed and decided he liked the taste. Clara suddenly turned toward him, and the sheet slipped down even further to reveal the outline of her rib cage creating diagonal lines which pointed to her pouting navel.
Clara stared at him, and he noticed that her eyes-although slightly damp-were not as wet as he would have thought considering the amount of weeping she was doing. She continued to inspect his face, then she said, "You mean you were sleepwalking?"
"I swear. I haven't the slightest idea."
Clara blinked and sniffed. She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hand, then propped herself up on one elbow. The motion brought her left tit up to within eight inches of his mouth, and caused the sheet to drop to the point where the first black line of her soft, curly pubic hair could be seen. One buttock was uncovered and the golden mound of flesh testified that she sunbathed without a swim suit. There was a crease of flesh where her thigh and buttock joined; the crease glistened in the light. "You came in here and turned on the lights," she said. "I thought at first you were drunk. You looked very strange. Then you...." she fell back and covered her face with her hands. "I can't tell you; it's too horrible."
"Clara, please!" It was a strangled plea for information.
Good Lord, he thought, was I drunk? What's happening to me? Am I going insane?"
Clara said, "You made me do a perverted thing. You made us have oral intercourse!"
Jim reacted as though he had been kicked in a vulnerable spot. He couldn't believe her. She was lying. She had to be lying! Why, no matter how drunk he was, that was something he'd never force on a woman. Never! And he sure as hell wouldn't go down on a broad. Well, maybe Ida.
"You're lying," he said, quietly, watching her for reaction.
"Am I?" she spat out. Clara picked up the kleenex limp with scum. "What do you call this? The stuff that didn't go down my throat went over my face and hair." She threw the handkerchief at him. 'That's yours," she said.
Almost as if afraid of touching it, Jim reached gingerly out toward the paper. It was cold, and wet with a sticky substance. He swallowed; as he did so, he realized what that alien taste in his mouth was-her taste! The taste of her pussy! It was true. The whole thing was true!
"Clara, I...." he started, but she interrupted him. She had begun weeping again. "I know you don't believe me, but feel this." She took his hand and placed it against her fevered cunt. Jim felt the dampness and the heat. Clara kept his hand pressed there. 'That's your saliva," she said and then added as if ashamed, "and my love. I couldn't help myself. You made me cum. Just as you reached your climax." Then she put her face against his chest. "Oh, Jim, I'm so ashamed."
Awkwardly, he patted her bare shoulder. He was all too aware of her tits pushing up against his midriff; her nipples were burning two holes in his belly. Too, when he had felt her pussy, it was as though he had made contact with a live wire. He looked down at her body lying alongside his. One leg was slightly raised. He could see the little blue veins under her skin. He could feel her hot breath against his chest, her lips close to his right nipple. Her cunt against his leg! Without wanting it to, his prick was stirring to life again, as fevered blood rushed along the arteries and capillaries to bring new strength, new energy and new purpose.
Now that the first shock of waking next to Clara had begun to evaporate, he suddenly realized he was lying in bed with Clara-a nude Clara-and a nude Jim. He also realized that he badly wanted to fuck her.
At the rate his prick was growing, he'd only have seconds before she realized her danger. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her over on her back. She stared up at him, her lips moistened, her upper lip reddened from wiping his cum from her face. "I'm sorry, Clara."
She nodded. "What's done is done, I suppose. You degraded me. What makes it so bad though," she reached up and put both hands along his face and pulled him down close to her, "what makes it so bad is that I couldn't help myself. I enjoyed it. I wanted you. Me-a married woman-and you-a married man! Can you ever forgive me?" She blinked as if she were about to weep again.
He felt his heart go out to the poor woman. He had forced himself on her. He had come in here-drunk or sleepwalking-and forced her to suck his cock. And here she was now, apologizing to him! He kissed her lips gently; she responded without moving.
"Clara, I don't know what happened. And that's a pity-that I don't remember. I wanted you last night, surely you must have felt it when we were in the study together. I even dreamed of you last night. I dreamed I screwed you. Forgive me, please?"
"I'm so ashamed," she repeated. "I wanted you, too, but you're just a boy. I'm old enough to be your mother almost."
The comment about his being "just a boy" stung him just as Clara had known it probably would. His cock was fully alive now and ready for any new adventure. The heat ignited in his prick and flowed upward-up the spinal cord to his brain, up the muscular paths to his heart which received the message and began pumping quantities of blood to serve the rising instrument. He kissed her again, and this time he pushed his tongue through her parted lips. She refused to open her mouth to him for a moment, then, groaning, she let it swim in. This citadel fallen, he moved his lips to her neck and worked his way to her tit. She attempted to force his head back, but then collapsed weakly and let him do his will.
Jim could feel the power growing in him. Never in his life had he ever thought he had a chance to fuck a mature woman like this. But she wanted him. She was his to do as he wanted; he could tell that by the way she acted. She was panting when his hands moved boldly across her smooth, well-tanned stomach and sought out her gently pulsating pussy. He sawed his finger for only a second; the passage was already slippery with lubricants-his earlier saliva and her cum.
Clara acted as though she were reluctant when he forced her thighs apart and got between them. "We mustn't, Jim," she sobbed believably. "We can't. This is madness."
"We are, though," he said through gritted teeth and then, gently parting the pubic hair, he pushed the head of his cock against the labia of the moist open lips of her straining twat.
Clara attempted to clench her legs together, but the movement was obviously half-hearted at best. "Be gentle," she pleaded, reaching down to grasp his hardened staff in her hand.
God, it had been even easier than he had thought. He kissed her and said, "I will." It was then he felt near delirium strike him down there; she was stroking his cock as she guided it directly to the opening of her cunt. He pressed in and his throbbing prick slid slowly but surely down into that delicious channel, where it glided like a gondola through the warm, dark cuntal passage leading to her cervix. He went all the way in without pausing once; the journey took the better part of sixty seconds and Clara gasped in adolation all the time. Finally, he was in as far as he could go. He deliberately flexed his cock a couple of times.
It was then that Clara went wild beneath him. It was as though she had reached count-down zero and the rockets had been ignited. She simply took off! She was no longer weeping; she was exhorting him to do his damnedest, "Fuck me, fuck me to death," she screamed, her heels locking tightly around the backs of his flexing thighs.
He gave her free reign for the first couple of minutes and was rewarded with her sudden, "Aiiiieeee, I'm cuming!" When she had quit twitching, he began his movements. He was gentle in the beginning, just as she had requested. But the soft, hidden muscles of her twat kept nibbling and sucking away at him as though she had a herd of hungry rabbits hidden somewhere inside her tight, quivering belly. His tempo unconsciously speeded up. She was screaming in continuous ecstasy as he began to rotate it around a bit inside of her-making circles with his ass and then climbing high on her body to her clit. Her hands were all over him now.
He was caught up in it now; the woman beat at his buttocks with her heels. She was all fire and water, fur and grit, in everything. Her fingers moved down his back muscles once as gently as butterfly wings, and the next trip they gouged holes in skin. That hurt. He wanted to punish her for that, so he slammed his cock in viciously and was rewarded by a thin scream of pain and indignation.
He pounded into her like the white engine-driver rod of a speeding express train. He wanted to push his prick in so far that it would come out her mouth. He knew he was filling her, filling her as though he were the lost piece of a mammoth jig-saw puzzle. It was wonderful. She gasped out lewd words at him at the apex of each stroke. Usually it was an obscenity and a command at the same time. "Fuck me harder, fuck!" she chanted, gasping and wheezing as though she were about to expire.
Finally her eyes grew wide in supplication. "I'm cuming!" she moaned. She panted and writhed. His cock was a voracious animal now. He began using his leg muscles to propel it even deeper, bringing moans of sheer desire and passion from the woman beneath him. She was all women of the whole world wrapped up in one woman; all women wailing and screaming and writhing as they all came at once. "I'm cuming!" she screamed again and again.
And he was cuming-cuming with her, cuming into all the women of all the world-everyone and everything, sun, moon and stars-all cuming at once. The happiness of the women could not be denied. She was all women-he was fucking all women. She was the goddess of cunt, he the god of the cock. She screamed and collapsed twitching beneath him and he continued to pound into her until he knew there was nothing left in his body. The witch inside her had sucked his soul out of that tiny opening at the head of his prick.
It was a long time before he pulled the flaccid cock from her. It made a lewd, wet sucking sound as it popped out. Her body was soaking with perspiration. She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. 'That was beautiful," she said in obvious dismissal. "But you better get back to your room." She pulled up the sheet as if hiding her body in shame in front of him or bringing down the curtain on the first act.
Jim saw his pajamas lying in a heap on the floor. Feeling foolish, he began to dress. When he looked toward the bed, Clara was already asleep.
He made his way along the darkened hallway to his own room. Suddenly his conscience began to bother him. Here he was on his honeymoon and he was cheating on his wife. What a rotten bastard he was. His lovely Ida, his beautiful Ida, Ida his bride, sleeping innocently in their room and thinking that he loved her and only her. What would she do if she ever discovered that he had fucked Clara-not only fucked her but sucked her pussy? Jim knew very well what Ida would do. She would leave him and never speak to him again. The thought of his losing Ida frightened him, but he knew that it wasn't going to stop him from fucking Clara as often as he could during the remaining week and a half of his honeymoon.
CHAPTER NINE
Ida awakened feeling so wonderful that she couldn't believe it. She had never felt this way upon awakening before in her life. She knew that she had one of those sex dreams about Jim again, and she decided that the dream was what was making her feel so wonderful. The only troublesome part of the dream was that Jim looked like Captain Taite and he also looked like Mr. Tex Walker. She wondered why that was? She certainly wasn't attracted to either one of those two men. But she dismissed the annoying thought from her mind and thought once again about her dream.
She remembered what she had done. After Jim had licked her pussy and driven her to the point of madness, he had asked her to suck on his prick. She had done so, at first out of love, but then with a deep animalistic desire to devour it. He had cum in her mouth, and so entranced had she been with him that he had actually been forced to push her mouth away after she had swallowed all of him and continued to nibble at his deflated dong. That had been the Jim who looked like Tex Walker. Next, the Jim who looked like Tim Taite had made love to her the same way he had in the dream the night before, slamming in and out of her asshole until she was a screaming, helpless piece of wild flesh impaled like an insect on the end of a skewer. Then the Tex-faced Jim had fucked her in the cunt! It was this method that had caused her to reach peak after peak of progressively greater orgasms.
And through it all there had been the lightning storm-beautiful flashes of light.
These dreams surely must be the subconscious telling me that I must give myself completely to Jim, she thought. I'll tell myself that if it doesn't hurt in the dream, then it won't hurt during the real thing. She had wanted him in there during the shower yesterday; she supposed that was why she had dreamed.
All morning long, she worried over her dream like a dog with a bone. At breakfast, though, other things happened that caused additional alarm for Tex actually leered at her. It seemed almost as if he knew that she had dreamed about him last night. And Jim and Clara seemed to be silently speaking to each other across the table; she didn't like the hungry look on Clara's face, nor did she care for Jim's guilty glances in the older woman's direction. It was as though the two of them were sharing some secret. She felt a pang of jealousy, quickly dismissed.
All told, there was something wrong. The music of the days was being played off-key. Her suspicious were not relieved when Taite, smelling of something like vinegar, arrived late for breakfast. He smiled fondly at Ida, as if he were especially proud of something she had done. She was forced to turn her head away because she remembered that her husband had looked like Tim when he screwed her in her behind during the dream.
Tex had demanded impatiently of Tim, "Well?"
Tim smiled, "Perfect!"
"Even mine?" Tex asked hopefully.
Tim lifted one eyebrow and smirked. "Every exposure is perfect." He put a particularly nasty emphasis on the word "exposure."
Ida noticed that Tex and Clara both sat back, relaxed. Both had smug expressions on their faces.
Later, when she and Jim had been walking around the castle grounds, Ida said, 'Those people give me the creeps."
Jim, who had been pondering Tex's and Tim's behavior, confessed himself equally puzzled. Actually, he was glad to have Ida voice her suspicions. During breakfast, he hadn't been sure that it wasn't his nerves reacting to a guilty conscience. He could be honest with himself. He knew that it was really Ida he wanted; he would do anything for her. But he also wanted excitement-action and reaction. Ida, the times he fucked her, had lain there like a show window dummy being raped. Her only comments being, "You're hurting me." Clara? My God, that was really something. How could he have gone down on her and made her blow him. He didn't doubt that it had happened, all he knew for sure was that he had dreamed he was eating Ida's pussy-then had awakened to find himself with Clara. The dream that first night had triggered it, he thought.
The day passed leisurely. A wind had sprung up over the lake and he and Ida had taken a long hike. She seemed strangely withdrawn. He hoped she didn't sense that he had been unfaithful to her. God, anything was possible! Maybe she could smell Clara's cuntal juices on him when he returned to bed, although she seemed to be sleeping so soundly that she looked drugged.
Earlier when he had been making plans for the afternoon, he had wanted to steer Ida to one of the deserted areas on the lake and fuck her. Now she seemed so introspective that he decided to wait until they returned to the ranch. Twice she had turned to him as if to say or ask something, but then her resolute expression had changed and she turned away from him. The only crowning thing-the only thing that made him feel Ida's problem did not include him-was her impulsive grab around his waist and her upturned face saying, "I love you, my husband!"
They had reached the ranch gate when Jim found a small toad sitting on a rock beside the trail. He picked it up and Ida squealed in a little girl's fright. He held it out to her, and she squealed again. She ran. He chased her, laughing. They were joined by the dogs-both barking in joyous excitement.
"Jim, don't," she screamed, running across the lawn with the dogs in pursuit.
Suddenly they all blundered into Taite who was standing there with an amused expression on his face. Jim immediately dropped the toad and looked as if he couldn't understand why Ida was fleeing from him.
Ida stood behind Taite and peered around his shoulder at her husband. "Did you drop it?"
In answer, Jim merely held his hands out, palms up. Tim grinned at her. "I regret to say that your pet was just eaten by Rex." He nodded toward one of the dogs. "Eeecck," Ida said in mock dismay. They all three laughed. The strain of the morning was gone now. Tim seemed genuinely glad to see them and she was glad to see him.
Tim said to Jim, "Are you prepared for our traditional twilight pig sticking?" 'Tonight?"
"A good night for it. The moon will be right and I have the hired hands both standing by."
Jim looked at Ida, mutely asking permission.
"Go ahead, darling," she smiled. "I'll be fine. Anyway, I have a lot of letters and cards to write."
Jim nodded. "I'm ready anytime you are, Tim."
Tim clapped him on the back. "Splendid. We'll make a box lunch and take a bottle of bourbon. Dress warmly because it gets cold after dark. Meet you at the corral in twenty minutes?"
"Right."
Jim was eager for the outing. Wild pig would be an excitingly different change from deer and ducks. He supposed the techniques weren't too different than those used in deer hunting. Jim didn't know that it was part of a plan for him to get lost in the woods and the hills. In less than an hour, it was pitch black and the plan had worked. Jim was hopelessly lost.
CHAPTER TEN
Ida had dinner served in her room and she felt very relaxed sitting there eating and writing cards and notes dressed only in her negligee. She had a long list of people to write to and she wanted to write a letter to her friend, Jean Ellis. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said, thinking it was the maid returning for the dinner dishes.
"Good evening, my dear," Tex Walker said, coming in and closing the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring appreciately at her gown, then carried a large manila envelope to the table in front of the fireplace.
She felt the first discordant notes of uneasiness run through her mind. Tex had walked in as though he owned the place. He had looked at her in an unmistakable superior manner. Vaguely she felt that it was not right that he should be in a closed room with her when her husband was absent, especially with her dressed as revealingly as she was.
"Writing letters, I see," he said, quite unnecessarily.
"Yes, to a few friends back home. My aunt, sister, you know."
Tex moved over right next to her writing table. His bold eyes fastened on her gown which was open enough to see the first proud swelling promise of her boobs. Blushing furiously, she nervously put her hand up there and fumbled the negligee's button in an effort to close it.
"That really isn't necessary, my dear. You have charming tits. There's no need to hide them."
"Mr. Walker! Please!" Ida was shocked. She sputtered almost incoherently when she saw his leering expression. "I think, sir, you had better leave."
Tex's derisive laughter cut into her like a whip. Then his expression became coldly cruel. "Leave? Leave! I have no intention of leaving until I get what I came for!" He boldly placed his blue-veined, age-spotted hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
Suddenly, Ida was frightened, really frightened. Tex must be a madman! He was looking in ill-concealed lust at her boobs and at her pelvic area. "I ... I ... you really must go, Mr. Walker." She stood and backed nervously away from him. His eyes were like prison yard search-lights moving up and down the length of her figure. They came to rest on a spot just below her navel-that slightly protruding spot marking her mound of Venus.
"You are quite beautiful, my dear," he said.
"Please leave."
His face suddenly became contorted in something akin to hate, and his voice was tight in anger. "Don't be cantankerous! I said I would not go until I got what I came for!"
Ida walked to the door and opened it. "Get out," she said, trying to keep her composure.
"Close the door."
"Get out, or I'll scream."
"You may scream all you wish, but it will be of no use. No one will hear you; the hired hands are gone. We are alone in the house."
Feeling a combination of embarrassment, anger and fear, Ida screamed and then yelled, "Help." The echoes resounded and echoed throughout the deserted hallways, "help ... help ... help." Her own voice was mocking her.
"Now that we have that silly bit of amateur theatrics out of our system. I want to show you something. Take a look at the little gift I've brought you. There, on the table in the envelope."
"I'm not leaving this door. You make a move toward me and I'll run."
"I have no doubt that you could outrun me. It would be the most foolish thing you have done in your life, however. Take a look in the envelope. I give you my word of honor, as a Texan, that I will not move from this spot."
Anything to get rid of this maniac, Ida thought. She sidled up toward the table, watching him closely for any movement. He merely smiled in vast amusement at her precautions. He seemed to be holding his breath, and his eyes had grown to enormous size as he watched her unfasten the clasp on the envelope.
Ida didn't relax her vigilance; she riveted her eyes on him as she withdrew the contents. She could tell by the feel that they were photographs. She made one rapid glance down at the top one, and then the room began swirling around her. She heard his satanic laughter burst out, and he sat down on the chair, laughing uproariously at her stunned and disbelieving expression.
"Oh," he gasped, "if you could only see your face, my dear. Almost as if you had suddenly stumbled on Three-Fingered Jack in the darkness."
Ida gazed in horrified dismay. It was a photograph of herself. Not her as she saw herself each morning in the mirror, but a photograph of a totally alien her-wantonly smiling as she sucked away on Tex Walker's sausage-like cock. Her lips were grotesquely pouting around the instrument, but it was her expression that was the most astonishing thing about the picture. It was obvious to anyone-even herself-that she was enjoying what she was doing. Her hands were clearly shown; one was cradling his balls as though she were weighing them, the other had two fingers wormed deep into his open asshole.
Ida's legs failed her. She was forced to steady herself on the back of the chair and then sink slowly into it. She continued to stare at the picture. Finally she closed her eyes and moaned, "Oh, my God!"
Tex continued to cackle. He choked then coughed. "You may like to know, my dear, that no one had to tell you a thing. I have never known a more apt pupil, one who picked it up so rapidly-within seconds, so to speak. You were born to bring pleasure to a man-and you don't have the intelligence to realize it. Pure womanly instinct." He sighed. "But really, you should look at the others."
Sick, almost wishing to God that He would strike her blind, Ida turned to the next photograph. She blinked and hot tears began streaming down her face. This picture showed her with her legs spread wide apart and Tex's head buried in her cunt. Her tongue was hanging laxly out of the corner of her mouth and her eyes were rolled back in her head. Shown clearly were her taut stomach muscles and flexed buttocks, and her fingernails clawing a bloody trail of lust down his back. Her face was smeared with what could only be scum; it glistened all over her neck and a huge puddle of it could be seen alongside her shoulders on the rumbled sheet. As she gazed through watery eyes at the photograph it was all coming back to her now. The dream! It hadn't been a dream after all. She remembered the moment; in the dream it had been so wonderful to have her husband doing that to her.
She realized that Tex had become silent. He merely stared at her, and his expression was once again one of anger-and something else.
He didn't make a command, but she turned to the next photograph, already sure of what she would see. It was a close-up of Tex's cock in the process of being jammed into her pussy. What made the picture so unbelievably horrible again was the sheer expression of delight and impatient lust on her face. She thought dully; it didn't hurt at all when he did that; it was wonderful. I remember the sensation now. Beautiful. But I thought it was my husband fucking me, not someone using me as a ploy, an insensitive whore. She suddenly realized that no one seeing the photograph would ever think of her as being an "insensitive" whore. A "whore" yes. "Insensitive," never! Not with that gloating sensual expression on her face. No, if anything, she was a very sensitive whore, one who was enjoying the fucking of her life.
The next, as she was pretty sure it would, showed Tim with his stubby little cock in the process of ass fucking her. Again the photographer had masterfully focused on her expression. She was the personification of wantonness. The hang of the taut tits like ripe fruit about to drop from a tree, the tendons of her neck, the muscles of her inner thighs, the deep indentations created by the eager flexing of the ass muscles-all were clear indications that she was within seconds of obtaining an orgasm.
It was all too much to bear, much less understand. Her dignity crushed, sobs wracked her body and each breath was a shuddering one. She had never been so mortified, so humiliated, so ashamed in her life. The photographs, no matter how they had come to be taken, gave Ida an insight to that darker being within her that she had never known existed.
Tex was no longer amused; he stalked angrily toward the door and closed it. He stood there, impatiently rocking back and forth, glaring at her. "Whimper all you want, slut. Cry your heart out. It makes no difference. Your precious husband shall see these when he returns. And in tomorrow's mail an envelope identical to the one I gave you will be transmitted to your aunt and to your local police and to...." He took his hand from behind his back and held out Ida's blue address book. He grinned evilly, "and to every name in this book."
She screamed and leaped toward him; she was rewarded by a vicious backhand in the face that sent her sprawling to the rug. In falling, her negligee ripped; her gown slithered up to her waist, where the full ripeness of her upper thighs and buttocks were fully visible to Tex's cruelly glinting eyes. "You beast you filthy beast," she sobbed.
"My dear young lady. These photographs are not of a 'filthy beast,' but of a common street whore-sucking and being sucked, being, if you'll pardon the Texas expression, 'fucked' and being ass fucked. Oh, how she loves it all. Note the enjoyment on her face. How amusing it will be when your aunt and all of your little friends and relatives see what a happy honeymoon you're enjoying."
"What is it you want?" she gasped, feeling horror suddenly wash over her like an unrelenting tide.
"That's hardly the question you want to ask, is it? What you really want to know is this: How do I get those photographs back?"
Ida looked up from the floor. She could see the bulge growing in her trousers as he gazed at her uncovered body. She made a futile attempt to pull her gown down. A part of her mind was screaming like a frightened caged animal, "Help me, please, help me someone! Help me!" Yet, she knew there would be no help. No help from the local police, and certainly none from Jim. If he ever saw the photographs, he would leave her in an instant. With a sudden caving in of her spirit, she asked in a barely audible voice, "What do I have to do to get them back?"
Tex smiled, "Excellent, my dear. You are, as I said before, a quick study-a fast learner." He picked up the envelope and withdrew the first one. He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Oh, yes! I remember it well. It was delightful; you showed such tremendous talent for it." He looked as if he were thinking, then nodded his head. "That's it! That seems fair enough. For each photographic scene you recreate, I shall return a picture."
As she realized what he was asking, Ida suddenly felt a painful spasm in her stomach; she was sure she was going to vomit. Oh, God! How could any human being so degrade another, so debase another as he was trying to do to her. She wouldn't do it. She couldn't do it. She shook her head and mumbled, "I won't." Then she looked up in tearful pleading, "Please, Tex. Please, have mercy-pity. Give me the photographs, please!" The last was a half hysterical scream.
"Of course, my child. They shall be returned to you upon my word as a Texan, just as soon as you fulfill the conditions of our contract."
Sobbing incoherently, Ida shook her head violently from side to side, "I can't. I just can't do that!"
Tex clapped his hands together in dismisal. "Then we really have nothing more to discuss. The photographs will be in the mail tomorrow." He turned to the door.
"Please, have pity," she screamed.
Tex did not answer. He opened the door and stood in the archway. "Good evening, Madam. And sweet dreams." He started to close the door.
"No," Ida shouted in desperation and fear. "No, come back." Her body was wracked with shuddering sobs of distress, as she buried her face in her hands.
"You'll do it?" Tex's voice was cold.
"Oh, God forgive me, yes!" she screamed. "Yes, you, you beast, I'll do it!"
Tex closed the door behind him. His face was red with rage and his voice tight in poorly suppressed fury. "Watch your language, slut, or I shall have second thoughts about my generosity. As it is, you will pay a little extra for your constant name-calling."
Abjectly, knowing she must be on his good side to get the photographs, Ida said, "I'm sorry."
"That's better, immensely better. Now, my dear, take your hands away from your pretty little face. Do it now!" The last word cracked like a whip and Ida's body jumped as though struck.
Tex handed down photograph number one. "Shall we begin? Recreate this and you may have the picture to do with as you wish. Burn it, tear it, or keep it among your treasured souvenirs. Look at it closely."
"Oh, God," she moaned in shame and distress.
"Take off your clothes." It was an order. She rose, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she felt. The man's eyes burned huge holes in her tits and pelvic area. When she hesitated-hoping against hope that he would change his mind, that this was really a monstrous nightmare from which she would soon awaken-Tex narrowed his eyes in warning. Quickly then, she took off the negligee. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she slowly lifted the gown over her head to stand naked and trembling abjectedly before him.
"Beautiful, just beautiful. Now stand there until I get my clothes off." For the first time, the old man began showing real signs of impatience. She watched him, horrified, as he removed his coat, tie, shirt and undershirt, and then unbuttoned his trousers and dropped them and his drawers to the floor. A moment later, he stood before her with only his shoes and socks and garters on. His huge white hard-on grew like a poisonous mushroom in the grey tundra of his pubic hair. "All right, my dear. Picture number one: on your hands and knees, crawl to me!"
It was going to be even worse than she had thought. She kept saying over and over again in her mind, "This can't be happening to me; this can't be happening to me." Tex was a hideous creature seen in some nightmare as he leered down at her with those horribly hot and unbending eyes. She would die before she did this. "No, I can't!" She clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could erase the scene from memory and make it cease to exist.
"If I am forced to put my clothes on, I swear to you that nothing-absolutely nothing you could offer, no matter how far you crawled-could obtain the release of these photographs. Do you quite understand?"
"Please?" she pleaded, looking at him once more in supplication. "Please!"
Tex merely stroked his cock and answered. "I'm waiting. On your hands and knees. Quickly!"
It was hopeless. All was lost. It didn't matter. She would die of humiliation if the photographs were released; she would die of humiliation if she were to undergo the cruel debasement in order to retrieve them. It didn't matter except the pictures would kill Jim's love for her, would destroy her aunt, would be traumatic for all her friends receiving copies. This way only she would be hurt. Slowly, she sank to her knees and began crawling like a wounded animal toward his naked loins.
Now all she could think of was getting the execution of her soul and dignity over with as rapidly as possible. Tex misunderstood her suddenly speeded up crawling. "Don't be so eager, my dear. You are acting as hungry as you were last night." He laughed and backed away when she reached him. She crawled forward two more paces, then reached up for his cock. He backed away again, laughing at her. "Come on," he coaxed, and moved back until his hips were against the bed. He sat down and spread his legs. Ida could see his balls dangling like ripe, flesh-colored fruit above the brown-puckered opening of his asshole. His cock stuck up in the air at an outrageous angle and occasionally it throbbed and jerked spasmodically.
Ida crawled up on the platform and to the bedside, no longer conscious of moving or acting. She was merely an automated robot, incapable of independent action or thought.
"Now, my dear, for the first photograph."
She shuddered in revulsion as she bent forward to pay unwilling homage to the waving purple and white prick. She could see angry red veins running up its white and blue trunk and the throbbing purple hooded head already seeping a white, thick fluid. His balls were high and tight now in his purple nut sac; his gray pubic hair lay like white foliage struck down by hail. Inside her mind, a voice kept crying out, "Ask him once again." She refused to heed it, knowing that it would be useless. Besides, she knew her abject begging and pleading only added to his sadistic enjoyment. She closed her eyes and swallowed, muttering a silent prayer, "Jim, forgive me. Please forgive me, darling for what I'm about to do."
Her lips closed wetly about the smooth rubbery head. Tex groaned. His eyes were bulging in lust as he stared down at the top of her fair young head. The knob of his cock tasted like sweet soap, the viscous fluid seeping from the glans had a slightly saline taste. He moved the rod in her mouth. "Suck a little, nibble a little, my dear."
"I was dreaming, I am dreaming, I am dreaming," Ida said to herself with each thrust of the hated cock in and out of her mouth. She had dreamed of doing this last night; it had been terribly exciting, terribly enjoyable, but that had been with her husband! She felt nothing now but despair and humiliation. She followed his directions, mindlessly licking and nibbling and tongue-teasing as he ordered. She was sure that it would never end, but it did with Tex saying, 'That's enough for now."
She removed her mouth from his cock. She kneeled there, head down in subjugation, waiting for whatever cruelty was to come next.
"Get on the bed," Tex said. Spiritlessly, Ida did as she was instructed. She lay there, legs slightly apart, staring up at the ceiling-not making any effort to cover her body. Tex gazed speculatively down at her. "You aren't showing nearly enough enthusiasm, my dear. Perhaps we should turn that little furnace of yours up higher." He walked away from the bed and came back a moment later with the second photograph. He held it before her eyes. "Shall we try for number two?" When Ida did not answer, he slapped her with the picture. The sharp edge of the paper cut the underside of her chin, drawing blood. "Answer me!"
"Yes."
"Yes, what, you slut!"
"Yes. Let's do number two."
"There is a better word for it, I believe-called "eating pussy" or "cunt scouring." Now you must ask me in a nice way-using either of those two terms."
Ida closed her eyes and sighed, "I want you to eat pussy."
"Whose?"
"Mine."
"Say it then."
She sighed again and said, without any inflection at all, "I want you to eat my pussy."
"Please?"
"Please."
She was aware that her legs were being spread apart. She flinched in spite of herself, when his finger parted the softness of her pubic hair and touched her monkey lips. She remembered the dream last night! Presumably Jim had been doing this to her. It had been wildly exciting and erotic beyond description. But now, she felt nothing. Only a deadness down there as he began his perverted licking.
The numbness lasted until he reached the clitoris; he put his lips and began sucking it as though it were a very small cock. Ida's body stiffened as she felt the unwelcome sensations return down there. Tex chuckled as he sensed she had finally come to life. Next she felt his tongue jab into her cunt; it was like an electric cattle prod placed in there. She jumped, trying to pull herself away from him. Then the slow, rhythmic, tantalizing licking began again. She flexed her muscles along her inner thighs, attempting to make the unwanted feeling of pleasure go away but it only added to her enjoyment. With the tensing of her thighs, Tex went back to lick again at the tiny, suddenly pulsating, clit.
Now, Ida was beginning to moan and sob as she realized what these sensations implied. No, this couldn't be happening to her. It mustn't happen. The nerve endings down there were betraying her. She couldn't permit this to feel pleasurable; she couldn't. But, in spite of her revulsion at the act, her abdomen rose and fell with increasing rapidity as the old man began talking long licking strokes with his tongue and using his nose to buffet the clit while his chin whiskers were scraping against her tightly clenched asshole. She knew she was beginning to secrete lubricants and liquids from glands that were taking notice of the loving attention being bestowed on them. It wasn't until she discovered her pelvis was beginning to grind lewdly into the old man's sardonically smiling face that she realized she had lost this one particular battle. Her shamelessly aroused body was moving independently now and she hadn't the least control over it any longer. His hot hungry mouth enclosed the entire cuntal area and he began sucking voraciously at it. The exquisite sensations shot across her loins into the nerve endings at the mouth of her womb. His drooling mouth kept the labia tightly clamped, his tongue pressed its way through the compressed pussy lip, and Ida almost lost her mind attempting to control her reactions.
Finally, and she knew it the second that it happened, she reached the point of no return. She was going to cum! She fought it, screamed against it in her mind, but muscles and nerves all rebelled against the discipline-seeking instead the sweet release. Then her pelvis was jerking and her hands were trying to push the old man's face up all the way into her cunt, and a voice she had never heard before was screeching from her own throat, "I'm cuming! Oh, God, lick harder, faster, now! Now!"
She was almost unconscious from the combination of shame and satiation when Tex raised her knees to her chest. Abruptly, she felt his cock pressing against her open, unprotected pussy.
"Now, number three," he said.
"No, you'll hurt me," she moaned, but it was already too late. She attempted to scissor her legs, but the movement caused him to slip forward and his long, hard cock slid effortlessly into the mouth of her twat. "Gaaagghh!" she screamed. God, it was excruciating. It was a white hot poker plunged into her. Worse, far worse, more agonizing than even the first night with Jim. That pain, at least, had come from love-this came from torture and debasement and rape.
Tex smiled down at her. "Don't put on an act, my dear." He reached over to the bedside table and pulled down the photograph. The sideways movements hurt her and she moaned in pain. "See what immense pleasure you are getting out of me. That is the real you. You're only acting right now."
Ida's eyes were blinded to the picture; the reality of the moment was that she was in pain from fucking and his huge prick. He moved it out a bit; the withdrawal motion was agonizing. He pushed it in to its utmost depth again. "Ohhhhh, God, no, please! You're hurting me. Please, I'll do anything, but not this!" A sudden jab was the only answer to her pitiful plea. She was suddenly screaming at the top of her voice as he began viciously jabbing into her; she jerked her eyes open to see the old man's cruel sadistic grin above her. He was killing her; he wanted to hear her scream and moan; he was enjoying every second.
Tex grinned down at her. He flexed his cock inside her belly and she felt it jerk up and against the cervix. "Aaaggghhh," she groaned and her face twisted in pain.
"Oooooohhh," She kept her stomach muscles as tight as possible, hoping that she would create an intolerable pressure for him down there.
Slowly, Tex pulled his hardened cock from her tight twat until it was about half out, then slowly-oh, very slowly-pushed it in again. He did this for about three minutes.
"Oooohhh, please, you're hurting me." She said it automatically, and with a sudden jolt to her brain realized that she was screaming a lie. Oh, it was tight, all right. Very tight. And she was being stretched painfully. But the slow, salacious movements were not painful! Furthermore, by the sudden look on the old man's face, she knew he was aware of her new knowledge.
"Now you must ask me to fuck you."
"Yes, yes!" Ida shouted. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me till I scream. Come on and fuck me. Push that little cock of yours in and out of my cunt till it drives me crazy. I want to cum and cum and cum!"
Tex Walker was very willing to oblige the beautiful young girl. He knew that anyone who was as passionate as she was when she was hypnotized was going to be a wild fuck when she was aware of what she was doing.
Tex looked away from Ida for a moment because he thought that he heard a noise in the room. It was Tim Taite who had returned from the so-called pig sticking foray. Tex knew that Tim would not have returned if Jim had not become hopelessly lost. He also could tell by Tim's state of undress that Tim wanted to get in on the action. He looked down at Ida. She was still bouncing on her ass and sliding her cunt over his hardened cock. He leaned over her and placed his arms around her body and then turned over so that now Ida was on top of him.
"Ohhhhhh," she moaned. 'This position is so much better. I can get more of your cock inside of me." She started to fuck Tex at her own pace now and she was enjoying the extra rubbing that her clit was getting from the new position.
Tex didn't turn over to do Ida any favors. He did it so that Tim could get in back of her and stick his cock in her ass. Tim was waiting for the move and climbed on the bed in back of Ida.
The young girl was startled momentarily but when she saw what Tim wanted to do to her she helped him by reaching back and spreading her asscheeks. Tim had spit on his hand and moistened his cock and when he began to shove his prick up Ida's shithole, there was just the resistance of a tight shit passage and nothing more.
Ida was having one continuous orgasm. She was screaming and bouncing around all over the bed with the two men, sawing their cocks into both of her bottom holes.
*****
Jim had no idea how he had become separated from the pig sticking party. There were plenty of people along. Tim, several hired hands and also the dog. One minute they wre all there and the next they were all gone and he was alone and lost.
He considered it a lucky stroke that he accidentally stumbled out of the forest onto the road. In the pitch darkness of the night it had taken him a few minutes to realize that he was no longer lost.
He made his way back in the direction that he thought was the ranch house. As he walked, he thanked his lucky stars that he was not lost out in the desert side of this honeymoon ranch. He couldn't understand why nobody was searching for him. He could die out there in the woods and the hills and his body might never have been found.
He saw the outline of the ranch house against the desert sands. It would have been much clearer if the moon was out. He wondered why there were no lights on in the building. Everyone should be up and about trying to find him. He made his way back to the house and when he opened the front door, he was greeted by complete blackness. There wasn't a light on that he could see on the main floor. He ran his hand along the wall at the side of the door where he was sure that there was a light switch but he couldn't find it. He cursed under his breath and began to walk across the large room toward the staircase. He stumbled over some furniture several times until he found the stairs.
He made it up the one flight without any mishaps. Then he decided that he would try to light one of the lamps that were on the mantle over the fireplace on the landing. He moved cautiously until he knew he was at the side of the fireplace and then he reached up for where he thought the lamp was. He missed it and his sleeve caught the horn of a steer head that was mounted on the wall. Jim received the surprise of his life. The wall next to the fireplace moved and exposed a very large room in which the lights went on automatically. Before he had a chance to make a move the wall closed.
Jim reached up and found the steer's horn and pulled down on it. This time when the wall moved open, Jim walked into the lighted room. As the door closed behind him, the lights went out. He didn't need any light in this room as there were lights coming through the round glass wall that exposed four of the rooms in the ranch house.
"What the hell!" Jim gasped.
He could see into Clara's room and she was lying on the bed fucking herself with a vibrating dildo and she was looking at something that was in her hand. Jim walked closer to the glass partition. He realized that on Clara's side of the room this window was a mirror. A TWO-WAY MIRROR! He was now standing directly in back of Clara's headboard. He could see what she was looking at as she fucked herself. They were pictures-PICTURES OF HIM EATING HER CUNT AND FUCKING HER! A movement in one of the other rooms caught his eye and he turned to look. He saw Tex Walker's butch wife fucking the kid maid in the ass with a dildo. The shit was running out of the maid's ass and down her leg and all over the expensive rug. The young maid was obviously enjoying the dildo up her ass.
Now, Jim looked at the third window into the rooms and he saw one of the hired hands fucking one of the dogs. Jim knew that the dog that the hired hand was fucking was a bitch and the only thought that ran through his mind at that moment was, "Well, at least that guy isn't a fairy."
The fourth and last wall was the real eye opener. That's where he saw his wife being fucked by two men at the same time-Captain Taite and Tex Walker-both fucking his wife. Tex with his cock up Ida's young cunt and Taite with his cock up her ass. Jim's first impulse was to crash into the room and kill all of them.
Then his eye caught the glare of the photos on the desk and he was able to see the top one. It was Ida and she was sucking on Tex's cock. The entire plot flashed before Jim's eyes and he realized that he and his young wife were the victims of some very clever perverts. He knew that Ida would never have done anything like she was doing at that moment if she hadn't been coerced into it. He knew that he would just have to get those pictures and those negative and get his wife and himself out of there.
He picked up a bottle of developing solution that was on one of the dark room tables next to some negatives. He saw at a glance that the negatives were of himself and of Ida in various fucking positions. He threw the bottle at the window to Clara's room as he put the negatives in his pocket. The bottle hit the window and shattered the glass. There was a loud scream and Jim climbed into the bedroom stepping on Clara's stomach in the process. Clara never felt his foot on her belly. A large sliver of glass had penetrated her skull killing her almost instantly. Jim grabbed the pictures from her hand and left her where she was with the vibrator still buzzing away in her dead cunt.
He ran out of her room and made his way down the hall to the room where Ida was being skewered. He broke through the door and the faces of the three people on the bed showed their complete surprise. Jim was on top of Taite, pulling him off his wife. Taite's stiff cock ripped out of Ida's ass and she shit all over Tex Walker's balls.
Jim kicked Taite in the belly with such force that he crashed through the mirror which was the other side of the window of the secret room. In going through the window, he crashed against a rolling metal table that had the mixed developing solutions in trays on top of it. The solutions spilled all over the table and into the electrical outlets that were attached to the table causing a short which electricuted Taite. The sparks that were caused by the short ignited the flammable solutions and a fire started. The various chemicals in the room began to explode and in a matter of seconds, the place was a mass of flames.
Tex jumped up off the bed from under Ida and went for Jim from behind. Ida grabbed a vase from the table next to the bed and jumped after Tex who was just about to place his hands around Jim's throat. Ida smashed the vase down on Tex's skull, killing him. Jim turned at the noise and saw what Ida had done. He ran to the table and grabbed the photos and then he grabbed Ida's hand and raced from the flaming room dragging his naked wife along with him.
There was plenty of light in the hallway now as the wall of the secret room was ablaze and the carpet on the landing was burning rapidly. Jim and Ida made it to the stairs when they heard a shout. It was Abbey, the maid and the hired hand. The dog that the hired hand was fucking jumped over the flames and stopped next to Ida and Jim. The people didn't have the agility of the dog and there was no way for them to get out in this direction. Jim pulled Ida down the stairs with him.
They ran down the stairs and out of the house and didn't stop running until they got to the wooden gate. The dog ran close to them all the way and stopped when they did.
Jim and Ida let out a gasp, "Jim, what about Abbey and the maid and the hired hand?"
Jim looked at her, "If they didn't get out through the back way, they are still in there."
Ida buried her face in Jim's shoulder and shivered at the thought of the people being burned alive.
"They were all no good," Jim said. "I never realized that such evil people still walked the face of the earth. I believe that all of them will continue to burn even after they have died in the fire."
"What about us?" Ida queried. "How will we get back to civilization?"
"The people in town have already seen this fire and they are probably on their way out here now to find out what has happened," Jim answered. "We will be going back with them."
"I'm cold," Ida said pathetically.
Jim turned and looked at her and realized for the first time that she was nude. He smiled at her. "You won't be cold for long, darling. I have an injection to give you that will warm you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head."
Ida looked at her young husband and she knew that she was not going to have to explain anything about what happened to Jim, because he already understood.
"What about the townspeople who are coming out because of the fire?"
"They won't get here for about two hours," Jim smiled as he began to push his naked wife to the ground.
"No!" Ida said.
Jim was startled by her sharp reply. "What do you mean, 'no'," he said. "I want to fuck you."
"NO!" Ida said. Then she smiled. "I'm going to suck your cock first and then you're going to fuck me."
Jim laughed as his wife got down on her knees and unzipped his fly and took his cock out of his pants. It was already hard, but when she placed her lips over the head and began to suck her way down his large stem, it got much larger!
