I had been married some years and I was fast losing interest in my wife. She was attractive enough in her way, but I was almost forty and she was in her late thirties. I had never faced up to myself before but I began to realize that I wanted a young girl. But I was committed to my wife and could hardly afford to take a separate establishment So there did not seem much that I could do. It was then that I hit on the idea of an au-pair girl.
It would have been foolish to go straight to my wife, Nancy, and say that we needed an au-pair girl. She would have been suspicious at once. I worked on the idea for some weeks and did nothing until I thought a suitable opportunity had arisen.
Nancy came out of hospital after a small operation and it was obvious that she Was not well enough to run our six-roomed flat in Battersea. It was then that I suggested that in future we ought to have a foreign girl to do the work, or most of it. At first she laughed at the idea. "Oh, I manage quite well and as soon as I'm a bit stronger it will be quite unnecessary. Anyway Margot (that's our fifteen-year-old daughter) helps me quite a lot."
"Well," I said, "I don't agree. This flat is too large for anyone to run, especially as we seem to make use of all the rooms. On top of that, darling, my telephone calls (I worked at home), visits from my clients, parties at weekends all give you extra work. I honestly don't think you can be expected to manage it anymore." I was quite serious about this in one way because the flat was never quite as I should have liked it, and when I entertained I liked everything to be done to perfection from the condition of the silver, the choice and cooking of the food, to the excellence of the wines.
In the end I persuaded her to give the idea a trial.
I got in touch with an agency and said that we had better interview the girls together so that we should both be happy about the choice we made.
The first girl to come for an interview was a short dark Spaniard. I knew at once that she was no use to me: she was a Catholic-indeed the first thing she asked us was where the nearest Catholic Church was!-and, in any case, she was ugly. I left it to my wife to find faults with her and she was soon on her way out
Then a Finnish girl rang the bell. She was about eighteen and rather pretty. I felt that she might be a good lay and I was prepared to agree to her.
But something she said about having three half-days off per week did not recommend her to Nancy, and that was that.
It was just as well because the next girl we interviewed was an absolute stunner. She was French, about seventeen, slim, small and fair with long hair down to her shoulders. She had strangely enigmatic eyes and the moment I set eyes on her I knew that I had to have this girl
"How much time off do you want for your studies?" my wife was asking her as I looked down at her lovely legs.
"Oh, it is not so important-I should like to learn the English and perhaps I could go to a class once a week."
"And what does your father do?"
"Oh, he is bar-how do you say it-barreester?"
"A barrister?"
"Yes, but he does not live with me and my mother but outside Paris."
"Oh, I see," my wife said. "And you do not mind housework, getting breakfast and things like that."
"Oh, no, pas du tout, I like to do these things-perhaps I learn about the English way too."
She was prepared to stay for four to six months and would be happy to have one day off and one half-day a week.
My wife turned to me. "I think Michele looks to be the kind of girl we need. What do you think?"
"Well, yes, I think may be ... " I purposely hesitated, "I think maybe your are right." And I looked at her and we exchanged glances that, fortunately, my wife did not see. "Yes, if Mile. Michele wishes to accept the post I am quite willing."
"All right then, that settles it Michele. When do you wish to come to us?"
"Any time. I am free. I can come tomorrow, all right?"
"Yes, then we'll expect you tomorrow in the morning."
* * *
Michele arrived the following day. It was exciting to see all her French luggage being taken to her room. Our flat was built round an L-shaped passage, the main room being along the base of the L, the others, including kitchen, bathroom and lavatories, on either side of the upright. Michele was given the third of the main rooms, the one farthest away from the entrance and ir. a wav the room lest in contact with the others. fc overlooked Battersea Park, as did the sitting-room, next to it, and our bedroom which was the first room on entering.
During the afternoon my wife went out to do a little shopping and took Michele with her. I immediately went off to Michele's room to look through her clothes. It was very exciting indeed to handle her lovely underclothes, go through her make-up bag, and look at photographs of her in her bikini. I was soon smelling her scent as I buried my nose in pairs of her panties. I also found, to my surprise, a Dutch cap among her personal belongings. So she was not virgin!
She may not have been a virgin-as I found out lat-er-but she was a very young seventeen, and when I on one occasion took her into a public house she was refused a drink. In her tiny way, with her delicate features, she looked no more than sixteen, and when I eventually slept with her I though of her as a little girl. It is true that I was later to seduce even younger girls, but I shall always think of Michele as the most wonderful of juveniles even though, in a technical sense, she was "of age."
Well, the days went by, Michele did most of the work she had to do in the mornings and generally worked in her room in the afternoons. I saw her from time to time during the day, but always at dinner in the evenings which she helped to prepare with Nancy. Then she would sometimes spend the rest of the evening with us in the sitting-room, listening to music, talking, or watching television. At other times she would go to my daughter's room, or go out with her to the pictures or a party.
After three or four weeks I seriously began to wonder whether I was going to have and opportunity to "make" her. She never seemed to be alone, or there was always someone in the flat.
But my chance came unexpectedly. Nancy was asked-by her mother to stay for a night at Brighton, where she lived, and in the end my daughter decided to accompany her. Would Michele mind being left behind? Not at all, she assured my wife.
My wife trusted me implicitly-after all I had been faithful to her for sixteen years-and she had no reason to suspect my interest in Michele so cleverly had I managed to hide my feelings. And so it was that I was alone in the flat one Saturday afternoon, and would be until the Sunday evening.
I asked her whether she would like to listen to the third program with me as there was to be a concert of Debussy. I knew she liked music as I had heard her listening to concerts on her transistor. But my own specially built radio-gramophone was much better equipped for a serious concert, and the sitting room was particularly comfortable.
She sat relaxedly listening to "Images" and we had just come to the "Iberia" movement when I found her looking straight at me. I was slightly uncomfortable and lowered my glance. Once again I found her looking at me, and once again I was nonplussed.
"You like Debussy?" I was asking her when the work finished.
"Yes, he is one of my favorites?" she spoke the word "favorites" in the French way-"fayvoreet" and I was excited by her accent.
The minutes went by and it seemed almost impossible, without making a direct request to her, to find out whether she would be willing to let me make love to her. Then she said she was going to wash her hair.
Some minutes later she asked if she could come into the sitting room to dry her hair and soon she was lying on the carpet in front of the radiator, her long hair in front of her close to the heat. She was wearing a dressing-gown and underneath a pair of pale blue pajamas.
Eventually her hair was dry and she began to run her hands through it. "I must brush my hair," she said suddenly getting up and then she left the room.
I followed her to her room a few minutes later and asked her whether she would like me to brush her hair for her. This was not so surprising as it may sound as I had noticed that she frequently got my daughter to brush her long, silky fair hair. It seemed that she found it difficult to get the brush through it.
She showed no surprise and said "Yes, if you will."
She sat on a small chair and I stood or half knelt behind her brushing her lovely hair and looking down her dressing-gown where I was just able to see the bulge of her breasts.
Long after it was necessary to go on I was still pulling the brush through her hair. I knew that the time had come to make a move: it was now or never.
I took my chance. Putting down the brush I gently ran my hands through her hair saying something about how lovely it was and then let my hands rest on her neck. She half turned her head round to me, looked up at me with serious eyes and then turned to face forward again. I moved my hands onto her neck and bending down lightly kissed her head.
"You are very beautiful," I said as I withdrew my lips.
"Do you think so?" she asked me. "Very. I have always thought so-since I first saw you."
"Your wife is very beautiful too," she said somberly.
"Yes, yes, she is, but in a different way." And then I bent down and kissing her head for a second or two I drew her face round and up to mine and kissed her gently on the lips. She did not speak or resist and I kept my lips on hers for thirty seconds or so. Then I pulled her up from the chair and she was in my arms. I felt I was close to having this lovely teenager now, my first teenager since I was a boy. Oh, how lovely to be having young flesh again.
She did not immediately respond to me and seemed almost to draw away from my grasp. I let her go and, as if nothing had happened, walked over to her divan, my arm linked in hers. As I sat or half lay on the bed I pulled her with me and she was lying cuped in one of my arms, as innocently as if we were father and daughter.
I waited and my lust began to be roused. It was too much for me to hold her in this way and I turned towards her so that I was looking down into her face as I slipped my arm from under her and brought my legs close to hers.
Then I bent down and kissed her, pushing my tongue into my mouth at the first opportunity. And then she put her arms round me and kissed me back passionately.
"Shall I take my clothes off?" she suddenly asked me innocently.
"I'd like you to if you wish."
Without any further ado she slipped off the dressing gown, pulled off the top of her pajamas and then pushed the trousers down her legs. She lay naked on the bed in front of me....
She had a lovely small body, beautifully moulded, all in fine proportion, with wideish pelvis, well-formed breasts, slim long legs and an olive skin. Her lovely fair hair was splayed out on all sides as she looked at me through black eyelashes.
"Well ... " I began, somewhat at a loss to find myself so suddenly in this position, a young girl wanting me.
"Well," she repeated. "Do you like me? And what about your wife?"
"Can we forget my wife please. But I can tell you I have never been unfaithful to her before. She must not know, of course. There is no reason why she should ... "
The girl was silent and she looked at me waiting. . .
"I think you had better get into bed, love," I was saying to her. "I'll go back to my room and undress and join you in a minute." I left her, undressed, cleaned my teeth and put a couple of rubbers in my dressing-gown pocket should they be absolutely necessary. Then I returned to her room.
I threw off my gown and in a minute I was lying at her side holding her naked young body close to mine as my penis slowly grew to its full size.
Well, I was going to make the best of my first teenager. There was no hurry. I kissed her lips gently and then moved my mouth over her neck and breasts, stopping to suck her young shapely breasts, biting tentatively at her nipples. She ought my prick and was soon gently massaging both my prick and my balls. Back to her mouth and then with my hand I fondled her breasts, her stomach and her lovely shapely thighs. I was almost ready to touch her sacred genitals ... I would ask her about contraceptives as I did so....
My hand was touching the lips of her slit as I spoke. "Do you wear a Dutch cap or anything?" I said.
"Dutch cap?" she asked. "Oh, yes, I have the diaphragm. Is that what you mean."
"Yes, will you put it in."
"It is in."
I was astonished. I had seen the diaphragm in her room a week or two before. Surely she did not have two? And ,if not, when had she inserted it?
"You put it in already, yes?"
"Yes. This evening."
Now I understood. She must have expected me to seduce her! Presumably she had put it in when she had returned to her room to brush her hair, or, just possibly, when I had gone to my room to undress.
I slid my finger into the triangle of her girlish slit and found her small bud. I touched it lightly and carefully. She began to moan her delight as massaged it gently, while at the same time I continued to suck her left nipple which was now quite a size. Her body began to writhe rhythmically as I sucked and fondled her, and I could hear her breathing quickening. My prick pressed against her right thigh now and I moved it gently in an up-and-down rhythm against her leg. Now I began to grip her body and take it to me. She was small and petite and she seemed very small in my arms. My sense of domination was overpowering and though she was seventeen she seemed just like a child except for her sexual response. She sought my lips and we were tight in each other's arms as I moved over her and found my prick between her legs. Then taking it in my right hand I guided it to her vagina. Oh, what a joy it was to feel the touch of her vaginal flesh, the innocent flesh of her seventeen years! It was like an electric shock as my knob touched her wet membrane. In the entrance there was the resistance the wonderful resistance-of her smallness against my large prick and I had to push hard to enter an inch or so. As I took her under the shoulders and forced my legs against the bed my prick moved into her, still meeting considerable resistance. But this was good and highly stimulating, though it seemed to be a little painful for Michele.
And then I was deep inside her young body, my prick in her almost virginal passage up to the hilt. She kissed me passionately pulling my head down to hers and clinging to my neck and shoulders.
After a while I began to fuck her. The more I did so the more my lust was aroused. I soon began to forget my tenderness to her. My lust for a young girl had overpowered me and I was ramming my cock into her ruthlessly, my hands now under her buttocks, my nails digging into her small, boyish cheeks, my lips biting her neck and throat.
Then I felt her climax approaching as she began to shake and writhe in my grip. My prick was throbbing, my genitals heavy with desire, and soon the urgency of the tension was such that I knew I could, withdrew it slowly and breathed deeply to hold off my orgasm, but it was no use I had to come. So with three or four short, sharp jabs with my prick deep inside her, I suddenly came and as I did so she cried out her joy. We were coming together and I could feel her vagina gripping and contracting my prick as I spunked into her, sent my semen deep into her body.
"Oh, my love," I said to her as I completed my orgasm.
"Darling," she said. "Can we be lovers?"
"Yes, of course. We shall have to plan things carefully. But we'll find all kinds of opportunities if you really want me."
"I have had one boy-friend in France. If I had not I would be virgin. I am sorry I am not a virgin for you ... "
"Oh, I knew you were not I am glad you have had only one boy. You are just like a virgin. I love you ... "
"Can I use your word 'fuck'? " she asked me smiling.
"Yes, it is a good word, use it."
"Then fuck me again, please!"
And with that I was soon hard enough to penetrate her young girlish body again and within a few minutes I was fucking her teenage body as it had never been fucked before.
TWO
I fucked Michele many, many times and I always enjoyed her; but I was beginning to desire someone younger, preferably a girl still at school. I could not easily see how I could arrange this as there was always my wife, or my daughter or Michele at home. But when they went off for a week-end to Petersfield I decided to act quickly.
I had noticed that a number of schoolgirls crossed the park in the afternoon on their way back from the local High School, and I had taken particular notice of one girl, a small, dark-haired child with expressive eyes, in particular. Could I persuade her to come back to the flat?
I waited on the Friday afternoon and I saw her coming along on her own about twenty yards ahead of two others from the same school.
She wore a gym-slip, white stockings and black shoes: every inch a schoolgirl. I felt certain she would be wearing the blue panties that generally matched up with a gym-slip of that color. As she approached I smiled at her and took the risk of speaking to her.
"I don't know whether you're in a hurry, but if you are not I'd like to speak to you," I ventured feeling rather foolish as I said it
You would have been amazed if you had seen how she responded. She looked at me with a rather knowing look and said "I'm in no hurry, what do you want?"
"Well we can't stand here, just walk along with me," I said as the other girls approached.
I turned in another direction and began to stroll as unconcernedly as I could manage, the girl at my side.
When we got onto one of the quieter paths I said that I had noticed her once or twice and would like her to come back to my flat.
"But how can you ask me-a schoolgirl to come to your flat? What about your family, your neighbors?"
"Is that your only objection?"
"Yes. I've been with men before. I like old men."
Old men. I must say I wasn't exactly flattered, but from her point of view I suppose I was really ancient
"Do you mean to say you have-you have had relations with men?"
"Oh I haven't been to bed with them, but they've played with me."
"Would you like me to 'play' with you then?" I asked her as I began to get excited at the thought of her.
"Yes."
"All right, come on, we'll go to my flat. It's just over the way. I'll go ahead, you follow."
When we reached Prince of Wales Drive I crossed first and entered the block where our flat was on the ground floor. I opened the door and waited just inside. She came across a minute or so later, saw the open door and walked in as I beckoned to her. I don't think anyone had noticed her.
I took her to our bedroom and asked her if she would like anything.
"No, just play with me," she said, her eyes searching mine.
"Well, get on the bed then."
She jumped on the bed, danced up and down a few times and then lay on her back with her legs apart, showing her knees and the lower part of her thighs.
I got on the bed and took her in my arms and began to kiss her gently. She responded at once and soon her tongue was deep in my mouth, the tip feeling for my tongue and teeth. It was terribly exciting to have such a young girl in one's arms, especially one dressed in a gym-slip. And on my own wife's bed!
I felt her breasts through the gym-slip and then moved my hand down to her legs. As I went on kissing her I gradually moved my hand under the gym-slip until I came to her panties.
I began to fondle her thighs and ran my hand over her panties, sometimes inserting my finger for a second or two under the elastic of each leg. She was really lovely, and my cock was throbbing with the excitement of touching her young body. I knew that I would have to come soon.
I began to pull of her panties and as they came down her legs I saw her dark pubic hair and almost hairless slit When I had pulled them off, I at once began to touch her genitals and soon had inserted a finger between the two outer lips to find her clitoris. This I began to rub vigorously. She could scarcely contain her excitement and began shouting "harder, go on, harder!" I was terribly excited by now and pulled out my prick and got on top of her. But she immediately said: "No, no, you must not fuck me, I have never been fucked!"
I desisted because I remembered she said that men had only played with her and she had obviously not meant that they had fucked her. I would have to be patient. So I got off her body and bent down and kissed her genitals, searching with my tongue for her vaginal entrance. Soon I was sucking up and down her slit as she wriggled and writhed as I brought on her climax.
Then I lay at her side and asked her to "play" with me, showing her how to move the prepuce back and forth over the knob of my prick. She went to it with a will, kissing me as she did so, and within a minute or two my semen was splashing over my clothes.
We relaxed for a time and then I asked her if she would take off all her clothes.
"If you promise not to fuck me I will," She spoke quietly and firmly with the assurance of a woman of mature years. It occurred to me that in one way she was extremely innocent How could she stop me if I insisted? I thought
Anyway I agreed.
She undid the belt of her gym-slip and pulled it over her head. All she had on was a suspender belt to keep her white stockings and a white bra. This she took off at once and I saw her girlish breasts for the first time. They were shapely, though not large and I thought I would just be able to get one in my mouth. Then she had her suspender belt off and pushed her stockings down her legs.
I had a naked and defenseless sixteen-year-old on the bed in front of me.
I rapidly undressed and I stood at the side of the bed so that she could look at my dark, hairy body, with my prick jutting from a mass of black pubic hair. I must have been a rather frightening animal for a sixteen-year-old girl, but she seemed to like it. She pulled me down on top of her and kissed me. "Promise you won't try to fuck me, but you can do anything else," she whispered.
"But why can't I fuck you?" I asked.
"I don't want to be fucked yet. I just don't. I don't want to lose my virginity. But perhaps if I decide to let anyone fuck me I'll let you do it. You are kind to me. I like you."
I decided it would be better to get her used to the idea gradually. Anyway I could fondle her vagina, push my fingers into it, and probably prepare her for the day when I would fuck her. My finger was already probing her slit and I soon found that I could insert only one finger into her vagina. So I began to work on it and gradually tried to insert a second one. Gradually I dilated her membrane a little and thought that if I could see her another two or three times she might be ready both physically and psychologically to be fucked by me.
I kissed her on the lips and fondled her body as I moved my prick up and down between her thighs. Then suddenly I came, splashing the semen against her slit. But she did not seem to mind and after I had completed my orgasm I carefully wiped the semen away from her slit and from her legs.
We lay in each other's arms for a while but soon I was ready for her again. This time I explained to her about the sixty-nine position. I told her that I would suck her while she sucked me. She liked the idea and soon I was on top of her, my prick in her mouth, my mouth on her genitals. I don't know how long we lay in this position. It must have been an hour. I sucked her cunt lips, played with the cheeks of her bottom, probed her vagina with my tongue, sucked her clitoris and even her anus as she slowly worked on my prick with her mouth while using her hands from time to time on my testicles. It was the most exciting experience of my life.
She had to go and I watched her dress with affection in my eyes. "Will you be able to come again when I ask you?"
"Of course. But what about your wife?"
"Well, I shan't ask you when she's here, but I may do so when the au-pair is here. We might have some fun together."
"How old is the au-pair?"
"Seventeen and she's French. You'll like her."
"Do you fuck her?" She seemed to be slightly jealous.
"Yes. She-likes it."
She was silent and walked towards the hall. "All right then, I'll come next time you ask me in the Park. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, love. But one thing. I don't even know your name."
"Julie."
"Well, Good-bye, Julie." And she was gone.
THREE
I still had the week-end ahead of me without Michele so I began to think if there was any other way in which I could get hold of a young girl. I now had an insatiable taste for them...
I decided to go to a coffee bar frequented by younger girls in the King's Road. I had been there about twenty minutes when a Chinese girl of great beauty came in alone. There were a few places to choose from but she sat down at my table and ordered a coffee.
I began to talk to her at first off-handedly, giving the impression that I was quite disinterested. But I had looked at her very closely and felt very excited at the though that one day I might have a young Chinese girl.
I gathered that she was a student, but not quite so young as I had hoped. She was eighteen. Still eighteen wasn't bad. There was plenty of time for younger ones later I thought. An eighteen-year-old girl is not to be sneeze at, especially if she's Chinese.
So I talked to her about music, politics, London, the weather and everything under the sun. She was impressed with my knowledge of China and Chinese politics, that was obvious. Now I ought to press home my advantage, I thought.
"Well, I have to go soon. Which way do you go?" I ventured to ask her.
"I live at World's end," she said simply.
"I'm going that way. May I walk along with you?"
"Yes," she said looking at me with her frank and open eyes.
By the time we had reached Oakley Street I had persuaded her to have a drink with mc at a pub on the Embankment. She had two or three whiskies and I felt that she was becoming a little more uninhibited. I took her to another pub and by the time they closed she was enjoying herself and obviously feeling quite gay.
When we left the pub I walked over the bridge to Prince of Wales Drive, saying nothing about where we were going. On the way I held her hand for a while and she seemed to regard it as quite natural.
When we reached my flat I suggested that she should come in for a coffee. She was intrigued by the music, books and paintings in my sitting-room and she was soon sitting curled up in front of the fire glancing through my record sleeves.
After coffee I suggested that she should sit on the divan with me and when she came over I placed my arm round her. Then I began to stroke her thick black hair, taking off her glass as I did so. Then I looked into her lovely, short-sighted eyes and I knew that she was not going to resist me in the end.
"Let's go to the bedroom," I said to her abruptly.
"To the bedroom." She smiled and got up from the divan.
I pushed her on to the bed and was lying on top of her clothed body kissing her violently before she knew what was happening. Then I pushed my hands up her long thin legs to feel her thighs. She was panting and breathing hurriedly as I went on fondling her legs, occasionally touching the crotch of her panties.
"Do you want me?" she suddenly asked.
"That's what I thought if you'd agree to it."
"Well, I've never had anyone before, so..."
This was certainly one for the books! A Chinese virgin! God I was suddenly lusting after her yellow body with her strangely shaped eyes and black hair and I wanted to see her black pubic hair. I unzipped her dress and found her naked except for bra and panties. I pulled off he bra to find she had small, flat breasts, but when I took off her panties I had compensation in looking on her black bush and the thick hairy cunt lips. At once I pushed my finger into her cunt and began to dilate her as much as I could with the use of one and then two fingers. It must have hurt her for she began to cry gently but soon I had ruptured the membrane in my eager brutality and, throwing off my clothes, I got between her legs.
She looked at me with her lovely enigmatic Chinese eyes, questioning me, I felt, about contraceptives.
"I shall come out of you and put something on later," I reassured her and with that I pushed my erect prick against her cunthole. It was hard work but eventually I made some progress and got the head about half an inch into her virginal hole. Then I began to press with all my force as I held her tightly against me by the buttocks. Very soon I was deep inside her as she cried with the pain of her ruptured and violated hymen.
So I was in a Chinese cunt at last and better still that of an eighteen-year-old virgin, the first virgin I had fucked for years. I determined to make the most of it
I kissed her pale lips and she began to respond to my advances. She clung to me, searched my eyes, and kissed me passionately. I worked in and out of her with slow deliberate strokes, gradually dilating her membranes. And slowly I was able to penetrate without much difficulty, enjoying the grip of her contracting membrane.
I was almost about to come in her and only just pulled out in time. I put on one of those skins that are sold in America: they are wet and pull on like a glove. You scarcely know you are wearing anything. Then I re-inserted my prick and began to fuck her in earnest Soon she was crying out in her own language, raising her slim body to meet my thrusts and kissing and gripping me with all her passion.
"It is lovely," she began to say, whispering in my ear. "It is lovely with you." And then I came in her, spunking into the rubber just regretting that it could not be into her virginal body. I seemed to send jet after jet of spunk into her and soon we lay exhausted in each other's arms. The rubber was full to bursting when I later removed it.
* * *
That was truly a week-end. When my family and Michele returned on Sunday night I crept to Michele's room after my wife had gone to bed and I fucked her for more than an hour. So within three days I had had three lovely teenagers, sixteen, seventeen and eighteen if you count my "playing" with Julie as having her properly.
Early on Monday morning my wife turned to me and pulled her soft, fleshy body towards me. I must admit it was a welcome change after the slim girlish bodies of the previous days and I was soon sinking my prick into her luscious and waiting cunt. Within a few minutes I was sending my spunk into her as I gripped her fat haunches and dug my teeth into her fleshy nipples.
Still I was now looking forward to many, many more teenage conquests. I knew that I was going to take big risks when I went below sixteen, but that's what I fully intended.
But first I had had an idea about my daughter. I had noticed that she was rather fond of touching me and I though it might be worth while taking a chance with her. She was fifteen. If I won her confidence, perhaps she would assist me in bringing young girls to the flat that also passed through my mind.
The following evening I was talking to her in her own room when I suddenly put my arms about her and kissed her on the lips.
"Daddy, oh, daddy," she gasped. But made no attempt to take her lips away. So I pushed her on the bed and with my weight on top of her I kissed her lustfully and passionately.
I knew in another few minutes that she would let me do anything I wanted with her.
FOUR
My wife was at the theatre and I went to my daughter's room. Sylvia was lying on her bed reading.
"Take off your clothes love," I said to her simply. "I'd like to get into bed with you naked."
She showed little surprise and began to undress in front of me. She took off her skirt to show her lovely girlish thighs and legs, then her blouse to reveal that she wore only a pair of panties. "Keep them on for a while," I said. I threw off my clothes and got into bed and took her to me.
She kissed me and began to fondle my prick. "I want you to play with it and suck it, Sylvia. Would you like to?"
"Goody, yes." And with that I lay on my back while she twisted round to take my prick in her mouth. It made me jerk with sheer delight as I felt my daughter's lips moving over my knob. Then she fondled my balls tenderly and finally took her tongue the full length of my shaft five or six times. By now I was kneading her breasts which were handing from her young body and soon I had pulled her on top of me so that I could have her breast in my mouth.
For some time I sucked at her young nipples and then she asked if she could have my cock inside her.
"Well I think it will hurt the first time," I said, but you can try. I still lay on my back and she got astride me, lowering her body onto my weapon. The head came up against her slit and she cleverly manipulated it so that the head was directed correctly into her. Then she let her weight fall on it. At first it wouldn't go into her, but she insisted on moving her cunt up and down on the knob and it was not more than minutes before the hymen was ruptured and she sank her vagina onto me.
Well, she was a virgin indeed and I wanted to take her as effectively as I could. So I made her lie on her back, her arms upstretched, her legs wide apart. Then I got between her legs and rammed my prick into her.
What a thrill it is to fuck one's own daughter! Apart from the fact that she was a teenager, only fifteen, a virgin and attractive, the girl under me was my daughter and my prick was deep inside her, my lips met hers, and I put my hands up to find hers so that she lay as if crucified.
I fucked her all right! I was not going to miss this chance. I forced my prick as deep into her as
I could each time I moved into her body, then brought it down her passage slowly, and rammed it back to her cervix. I could feel the contractions high up her vagina as she was stimulated by my activity, and soon she was regularly releasing and gripping the head of my prick in her wet. girlish membranes doing it for the first time in her life.
I was close to coming and I decided that I would have to come out of her so that I could put on a rubber. I pulled out and took from my pocket one of those American skins I have referred to and pulled it on to my wet prick. Then I pushed my organ back into her virginal body and began to fuck her in real earnest.
She squirmed and wriggled with ecstasy as she felt my prick working up and down her vaginal passage, her own climax rapidly approaching. I now placed my hands under her buttocks, found her anus with one of my fingers and probed it gently as I simultaneously dug my nails into the cheeks of her bottom. Then I brought my lips to her left nipple and began to ram my prick into her innocent body with renewed violence. Then in a moment we were coming together in a shattering orgasm shuddering and shaking together as she lifted her body to meet mine at the precise moment of release.
Sylvia lay back exhausted. Then she asked me whether I had slept with Michele. I confessed to her that I had and she told me she had half suspected it.
And then she suggested that I should spend a night with both her and Michele one time when my wife was away! I said that I would happily do if she would not be jealous of Michele...
* * *
My wife, Nancy, was to spend a week-end with her mother at the end of the month, and though Sylvia would normally have gone with her this time, as planned, she stayed behind.
So we arranged to have a party.
I asked a schoolmaster friend of mine who, I had a fairly good idea, had a penchant for small girls. One might say he had a "Lolita complex" as, perhaps, I had myself.
I was in two minds about asking a third friend of mine, an African diplomat from one of the smaller embassies: in the end I decided it would add color to the proceedings.
Michele asked a girl friend of hers that had come to London, and I got hold of Julie and the Chinese girl, whose name was Yenli. It occurred to me that if Julie saw the other girls of about her own age indulging in intercourse she might agree to it too. But I was determined to have her myself before any of the others.
So the party was made up of my school-master friend, Colin, the African, whose name was Ngomo, Julie, Michele, Yenli and my daughter.
I managed to contact Julie on her way home from school and she said she would come to the party the next night.
By eight o'clock everyone had turned up and the girls were enjoying themselves dancing with my friends.
About nine o'clock I suggested that we played a quiz game with penalties the penalty being that anyone who failed to answer two questions in succession had to take off an article of clothing. The girls all seemed quite willing, thinking it was rather a joke. Julie had come to the party, as I had asked her in her school-clothes, and I noticed that the African could scarcely take his eyes off her.
We agreed to take a quiz book and to answer the questions in turn.
The first person to lose an article was the schoolmaster as he got caught on the name of the capital of on obscure African state. Shortly after that Yenli could not complete a well-known Shakespeare quotation, and then Julie did not know the name of Kennedy's assassin.
The game went swingingly for about half an hour but nobody had reached a stage of embarrassment as far as undressing was concerned. But then my daughter had a bad run of questions and suddenly she was taking off her dress (having already taken off her shoes and stockings) and we saw her standing there in nothing but her bra and panties.
As the game continued I noticed that Colin was occasionally leaning in her direction and, as if accidentally, touching her naked back. Then it was the African's turn. Whether it was deliberate or not, he could not answer a simple question and a recent pop song and he was having to take off his vest, leaving him with only a pair of white briefs. The girls looked at his lovely ebony body and I could see that Julie cast a surreptitious glance from time to time at the slight bulge in his pants. So far he was not erect but the mere size of his genitals made the pants hang visibly.
I was still wearing my shirt, pants and vest, but then I failed in two questions and was in the same state as Ngomo. We were both trembling lest we should be the first to have to strip completely. But it was to be one of the girls Julie. She had gone down on three questions and with her bra and blue panties as her only garments she was asked the name of the longest river in the world. She stumbled and then plumped for the Nile. She had lost and we waited for her to take off her bra.
The men looked at her lustfully as she took off her bra and her small but well-shaped breasts fell from her. Colin began to breathe more rapidly and I could see that he was very excited at the presence of an almost naked school girl. Indeed we were all getting tense and I did not know just when the bubble would burst.
Then Julie's turn came again, and she failed. She did not say anything for a moment but looked shyly at me.
"Well, Julie, I'm afraid you are the first to undress completely . . "
She stood up and very slowly slipped her panties from her young body and there she stood in her innocent nakedness with three pairs of male eyes lasciviously seeking for her slit.
The game continued amid an atmosphere of tension and soon my daughter was naked too. Then it was the turn of the African. The girls obviously waited with mixed feelings as he took off his white pants to reveal his very thick pubic hair and thenthen his enormous hanging cock and balls. Even flaccid it must have been some six or seven inches in length. I heard my daughter stifle a cry and saw Michele spellbound in curiosity. He sat down next to the naked Julie and soon I could see that his naked body was touching hers.
Soon we were all naked and we sat in a circle nervously chatting and laughing as Yenli sat down after revealing her yellow body to the others.
"What game shall we play now?" asked Colin eager to carry the sex play a bit further if he could manage it.
"Well, we could invent a game," I suggested. "What about the quiz continuing. Failure to answer a question involves a forfeit, to answer two questions a larger forfeit and so on..."
"But what forfeit?" asked Michele quietly.
"Suppose we only put questions to the girls," I went on. "If a question is not answered the man who asks it is allowed to kiss her something like that."
"And if she does not answer two questions?"
"Oh then he goes a bit further. I don't know. Do you agree, girls?"
There was not a lot of enthusiasm for the idea but there were no objections. So the game began with the rules rather ill-defined. We would have to make them as we went along.
Colin asked the first question and Julie answered it. Then it was my turn to ask Yenli and she answered successfully. Then Ngomo turned to Michele: "What's the capital of Sierra Leone?" And she could not answer. So he was entitled to kiss her and to ask a second question. He asked the question first and she survived. So he went over to her and putting his arms round her he pulled-her to him and kissed her lips, keeping them pressed against his for more than a minute. At the end I noticed as he released her that his prick was hardening with excitement.
Then Julie went down on three successive questions to Colin much to my annoyance.
"Well, what's the forfeit?" he asked, looking round and smiling at Julie.
"Quite serious, I think," I said laughingly. "I' think she'll have to let you lie on the sofa with her for, say, five minutes. Do you agree?" The suggestion was hailed with delight. I think everyone was getting ov-er-tense and wanted something to happen.
So Julie went over and lay on the sofa and Colin went over and got on it at her side. Then he turned over to look at her and taking her in his arms he kissed her as his leg went between hers. Now things were taking a new turn. In a minute if he was irresponsible he would be putting his prick into her and she might react and want to leave. Moreover, if she was going to lose her virginity I wanted it to be at my bidding.
We more or less crowded round as Colin began to fondle her breasts and then he bent down to suck her left nipple. The African was thoroughly roused now and I went over to turn out all the lights barring a small reading lamp in the corner of the room. I thought he would be less embarrassed if the light were dim as his prick was now jutting harshly from his body. But I imagine that by now Colin's would be hard too, so it would not be long before we would all be quite aware of the sexual desires of the men at least
Five minutes! I suddenly called and Colin, playing the game fairly, got up from the girl who was moaning slightly as he did so. His cock was fully erect and my daughter and Yenli were looking at him with excitement in their eyes.
Now the questions were invariably not answered. The girls seemed to want to be taken to the couch, but put up the pretence of trying to avoid such a fate by answering an occasional question correctly. Also they could lose to the man of their choice. The next girl to go to the couch was my daughter, taken by the African.
I felt a little uncomfortable, but also thoroughly sexually roused as I saw her under his body, his prick, I guessed, close to her vagina. But he kissed her with his everted lips, fondled her breasts and then brought his tongue down to her pubic hair. He was beginning to feel between her thighs when his time was up...
Then I got the Chinese girl. I kissed her and played with her ears and neck, not wishing to carry things too far at this time. I knew that the girls were slowly getting roused to a point of no return and there was no point in hurrying things too much. In any case I was saving myself for) Julie should the opportunity occur and I was determined to make it occur.
Apparently it was tacitly understood that no one should attempt sexual intercourse in the allotted five minutes. I think the other two men were waiting for a lead from me a lead that would carry the game a stage further when it would be agreed that intercourse should be allowed.
I was thinking of a way of taking the game this extra stage further when the African this who was fondling Julie's cunt, suddenly said: "I want to fuck you" and his voice was harsh with lust
Luckily his time was up and we almost pulled him off the child.
I suggested that we had a rest and that Michele should make some coffee. My daughter went out with her to the kitchen and Yenli left, presumably to go to the restroom. We were alone with Julie and it was obvious that all three of us wanted her. We could hardly refrain from touching her.
She was rather quiet but laughed at our jokes as we sat on the pile of cushions on and surrounding all sides of the divan. I was near her feet and took one of her feet in my hands, playing gently with her toes. The African had taken one of her hands and he was holding it close to his side, while Colin was playing with her splayed-out hair. It was a vary inflammable situation and it was a bit of a relief when the other girls returned with the coffee...
"Well," I said "What next? Any ideas for a new "game?"
"I should like it to be more fulfilling," ventured Colin.
"Fulfilling? In what way?" Yenli asked him, her eyes showing that she knew very well what he meant.
"Well, we are all excited ... I think we should go further."
"Let's vote a secret ballot shall we?" I put forward.
"Secret ballot for what?" asked the African.
"Secret vote whether we should go any further" I said.
"O.K." said Michele.
"I'm willing," said Colin, and with that I got up and found seven pieces of paper, handing one to each person present" Do you all have something to write with?" I then asked, and when this point was settled I gave what I thought were the right instructions.
"H you put 'Yes' it means you agree to well, to anything; if 'No', then you don't Fold your paper and I'll shuffle them before opening them so we shan't knew who has said 'No' if there is anybody. That person will, however, be able to refuse when his or her turn comes. O.K.? "
This was probably a bit illogical but it occurred to me that if one of the girls said 'No' at this stage, she might change her mind a bit later on.
I collected the answers and then began to open them. "Yes, yes, yes, no, yes, yes, yes," I called out. "Then someone is not so sure"-and of course I guessed it was Julie.
"All right then. Nearly all of us agree that we should play a game that leads to our doing anything we wish sexually. I think that's the meaning of the ballot. Now we three men are much older than you girls and we have to take care of you. If any girl here is not wearing a contraceptive, the man must use one. Is that understood? There are a dozen or two in the top drawer of the sideboard. O.K.? Now let's invent a new game, yes?"
"Yes," said the African looking with lust in his eyes at Julie and then at Michele.
Colin then proposed the spinning a bottle game that I had once played in Yugoslavia. Someone spun a bottle, he explained. The person it pointed to provided it was someone of the opposite sex had to spend five minutes with that person. If the same two persons got together for a third five minutes, an extra fifteen minutes was allowed and, in this case, he suggested, "they should fuck."
There was a silence in the room. The tension due to the possibility that in a few minutes one of the girls would have to be fucked by one of the men was obvious. Three older men and four teenagers...
The game was agreed to. It occurred to me that we should not know who had cast a negative vote until the person in question got the same man (or girl) three times.
I got a wine bottle and spun it. It pointed to Colin. He spun it and it pointed to Michele. So he was to "neck" with her for five minutes, and his score in her direction was one up.
He took her to the divan and we watched while he pulled her naked body to his. As he kissed her it was obvious at once that he was thoroughly roused and his prick was soon erect and hard. He half lay on top of her, kissing her lips, then her breasts and fingering her slit She was moaning her delight when their time was up ... I myself had been roused by watching him lying on her and kissing and feeling her body and my prick jutted rigidly from my body. The African too was now fully rigid and his prick standing from his black pubic bush must have stupefied the girls with its size ?nd thickness.
The bottle spun by Colin pointed to me. I spun it and it was pointing at Julie. I took her to the divan and immediately bent. down and kissed her slit. I opened her legs as the others stood over the divan and then brought my tongue to her clitoris. She shivered and her body began to writhe to my rhythmic lickings. My prick was beginning to throb and I knew that I would be able to come if I had another minute or two. But the clock beat me to it.
Everyone was in a highly emotional and sexually aroused state by now, and I think everyone was waiting for the explosion of the first act of intercourse.
It was my turn to take the bottle and I spun it towards Michele. She was back on the bed again within five minutes or so, and I was able to carry one where Colin had left off. I kissed her lips and felt for her slit and then decided to try to rub myself off against her body. As I kissed her I moved rhythmically against her but five minutes was not quite long enough....
I spun again and the bottle pointed to Ugomo. He picked it up, twirled it and it went towards my daughter.
He was on top of her in a lash forcing her lips back as he pressed his on to hers and felt her breasts and legs. He was moving his huge prick rapidly and would certainly have made it if he had another minute....
He spun it again and missed. It pointed to Colin. Colin then got Julie again and in a flash he had dragged her to the divan. Now she was in danger if he got her again. She lay passively on the bed as he felt her thighs, parted them and bent down to kiss her slit. Then he sung round and finding her slit with his mouth, sought her vagina with his tongue. He was preparing her in the hope that he would get her next time....
The bottle spun towards me and I twirled it in the direction of Yenli. This was her first time on the divan and I kissed her Chinese lips sensuously, feeling her cunt as I did so. I knew there was no time to come and I had decided that I would wait until I actually "won" one of the girls. Then it was the African who got Michele again, and she was now on the "danger list" My daughter then had the African on the bed, and I had Yenli again. So she would be in danger with me next time. But it was Julie who was to be "won" first Colin spun at his next turn and he got the young teenager. Little did he know that she was a virgin.
I did not know what she would do, but I was prepared to support her if she said she would not go through with it
"Well," he said, looking at her, "that's it then. You willing?"
"Yes," she said in a faint voice, looking at me as she spoke.
"Wearing anything?" he asked her.
"No, no, I'm a virgin ... "
Colin looked excited and took her in his arms. "I'll take care of you love. As soon as I'm ready I'll put something on. But first I'll try to make it easier for us."
He put her down on the divan and we all stood excitedly as he went about his task. His prick was already erect and menacing. He took her slit and began to work his fingers on her clitoris, and then probed her cunt. It was a wonderful sight to see the young schoolgirl being taken by the headmaster of a local school some thirty years older than herself. We all were thoroughly roused and could scarcely wait for the turn to come to us.
He probed her for four or five minutes and she was visibly excited by what he did to her. Then he asked me for a rubber sheath. I produced one and he pulled it onto his large, throbbing prick. Now the time had come for Julie to lose her virginity. My big regret that it was not I who was to take it I fondled my prick as I saw him part her legs and bend down to guide his prick to her vagina. He touched it with the knob but obviously met with resistance. He lowered more of his body and weight onto her but she began to cry out with pain. Then he began to force it against her, guiding it into her cunt. But he could not get it to advance another tenth of an inch. Sweating all over he clung to her as he thrust his body against her hymen, but without avail. He was beginning to pant and breath harshly with his lust when I had to tell him that his time was up.
So she had escaped! She might yet be mine. She seemed very quiet for the next few minutes and I was not sure how she had reacted to his rough treatment of her.
We resumed the game after a rest and in the end it was the African who won the next round. He was to have Michele.
"You want me to wear something, eh?"
"No, I am prepared," she told him.
He was going to waste no time. He had seen that the fifteen minutes had been insufficient for Colin and he was determined not to miss his chance. He put the girl on the divan and gloated over her, his huge prick jutting from his ebony body. Then he took her legs, parted them wide, made her bend her knees, and then got between her legs.
He placed his prick at the entrance to her vagina, seemed to find that it entered the opening fairly easily, and lowered his body onto hers. As she clasped his body with her legs he sank his massive cock deep into her youthful body, groaning with lust as he did so. He bent over her like some bird of prey, taking her head in his hands and kissing her lips as he held her face firmly in his grip. Then he was moving the huge prick down her vagina before seeming to ram it home with all his force. Soon his flanks moved up and down as he slammed his tool into her body like a piston. She cried out once or twice with pain, but soon her body moved in his rhythm and they writhed together in the joy of their approaching orgasms.
Suddenly she began to call on him to fuck her. "Fuck me!" she spoke in her lovely French accent, "Fuck me, you black man, fuck me. Push your big prick into me, hurt me you black pig."
And he replied in her own language. "I am fucking you teenager, pushing my black prick into your white body, violating you, you French bitch."
He rammed it home time and again and she writhed in pain, agony and ecstasy, and then came in a shattering orgasm as he too sent his viscid and acrid spunk deep into her womb....
The game was resumed. By this time Colin and I were in an overwrought state. But it was to be me next time and my victim-Julie.
She took me in her arms as if she was ready for me, and after pushing my fingers into her a dozen times or so I bent down, wearing a rubber sheath covered with a lubricant, and pushed my prick towards her vagina. I felt the head meet resistance, but I managed to force it beyond the opening and then suddenly, as if her hymen had suddenly ruptured, I slid into her. "Oh, darling," she whispered, despite the presence of the others, "oh, darling."
I was fucking her now, the sixteen-year-old virgin. Fucking the girl I had wanted most of all. I kissed and fondled her breasts before finally getting down to the act of really fucking her. Then we had twelve glorious minutes in which I rammed my prick into her virginal hole seventy or eighty times until I suddenly came in a huge throbbing climax of delight and wonder, the girl under me writhing and squirming to hers.
* * *
Later that night the African had my daughter, and Colin had Yenli and Michele.
It was suggested that we should have a completely free orgy but I resisted this idea. I think the whole evening's enjoyment had been heightened by the rules we had made, and we planned to have another evening in the fairly near future.
When they had all left I went to Michele's room and suggested that we invite my daughter. Then the three of us lay naked in the bed together, myself in the middle. I was feeling tired and not very active so I asked the girls to make love to me. Soon Michele was kissing my lips while Sylvia took my prick in her hands and masturbated me gently.
When I eventually came, Sylvia took my prick in her mouth and swallowed my hot, acrid spunk with a delight that suggested complete sexual maturity.
The following night I decided to have a change. My Lolita complex had been temporarily satisfied and I was now waiting with great anticipations of another night with the four .girls, and even looking forward to finding another girl to join us, perhaps one a year younger even than Sylvia.
I decided that I would indulge in one of my idiosyncrasies. Not something I wanted to do very often, mind you. But something that I had considered for a long time, hankered after, but never actually put to the test....
FIVE
You may be unable to understand why I should want to go to bed with something unbeautiful and almost monstrous when I share with you a love for juveniles-and, as you have seen, I was successful with them. But there may be some strange connection. Consider for a moment the defenselessness as a young girl. Of course there is nothing of the same sweetness, the same innocence necessarily. But if I tell you about Electra you may understand me. Anyway I am telling you about a phase of my life and that included my seeking out Electra....
I saw her struggling with her crutches on South Kensington station. She was pretty but had that strained look that all such people seem to share. She obviously had no love or sex in her life and I don't suppose she ever gave it a thought Who would want her anyway?
When I saw her my immediate reactions was to assist her because I felt a duty to do. Then I felt pity for her. But as I spoke to her, helping her onto the train, I realized that I had another darker motive. I did not reveal it but I wanted to whisper to her "Can I fuck you?"
So I saw her again and managed on some sort of pretext to get her telephone number. And when I had got this I had phone her and said I would like to see her one day. She had been very surprised but she had assented and I said I would telephone her when I was able to make it
Then I had a feeling of revulsion from what I intended to do and made no further move until the weekend I am now telling you about I phoned and arranged to see her at her flat at Putney on Sunday afternoon.
When I arrived she greeted me wanly as she struggled with her crutches, and told me to sit down while she made tea. She was obviously curious as to my interest in her, but I don't think she had any inkling of the real reason for my visit
I came to the point brutally. "Look, EJectra," I said, "I am curious about you. What you look like when you are naked"--I saw the pain across her face--"and I want you to let me make love to you like that. I am telling you frankly that I desire you for some morbid reason, but I also like you as a person and I may give you pleasure. Will you agree to let me?" I bowed my head and hardly dared to look at her.
She was silent for a long time. And then she spoke.
"I do not understand you. Perhaps you are mad. But my life is a lonely one and I have had only one affair in my life. It was before I lost my legs in the accident I told you about. I do not really care anymore now. If you wish you can make love to me. I will go to my bedroom and undress and I will call when I am ready."
In my wildest dreams I had never expected such a think to happen. I was terribly excited. I was entering a forbidden land, doing something monstrous, associating with something monstrous, and I knew that I was perverted to want her.
I could hardly wait for her to call me. When she did I rushed into her room and saw her lying back on the pillows, her body covered by the bedclothes.
I undressed slowly, looking at her as I did so. And then the moment came to get into the bed with her. . .
I shall never forget that moment. I moved to the side of the bed and pulled back the clothes sufficiently for me to get in beside her. I carefully avoided putting my legs in such a position that I would have touched hers had they been here. I lay at a slight diagonal towards her and took her in my arms and kissed her mouth. I found her at once truly exciting. And then slowly I began to feel her body. She had rather attractive breasts and I sucked her large nipples for a time before I moved the clothes down so that the beginnings of her pubic hair just appeared. Then I stroked her pubic hair and moved my finger very slowly down to her slit.
Then the moment came when I felt her slit and my hand reaching out on either side knew that there was nothing there!
Oh, what ghastly feelings had actuated my desire to have this torso? I could contain myself no longer and I threw back the bedclothes to see the most horrible sight of my life. She had two amputated stumps, no more than two or three inches long. All I could see was a black-haired slit and on either side the serrated ends of the legs were they had been amputated ... The sight was horrible but it drove me to a frenzy of lust and I was pushing my prick into her slit before I knew what I was doing, and in a minute I was lying on her torso, my thighs against her stumps....
Filled with a mad lust I began to fuck her with all my power, ruthlessly using what remained of her body, cruelly fucking her as I gripped her by the cheeks of her bottom and clung to her like a sack.
Soon she was murmuring in my ear her love for me and I was beside myself with frenzy. Then I was suddenly sending my spunk into her body ... and disgust immediately began to overtake me.
I stayed to do it again to her and this time I kissed her slit before I entered her. As I kissed her my eyes strayed to the broken off stumps of her legs and I was filled with a strange mixture of lust and nausea....
When I calmed down I reflected on the evening and I knew that I would come to her again. I have said before that something of her defenselessness appealed to me, as well as her monstrousness, and it was this that made a strange appeal to me. Perhaps you think I am mad. At least I do not pretend I went to Electra out of compassion, but the strange thing is that long after I gave up desiring teenager girls (and below teenager) I went on seeing Electra.
But I shall resume my story. Though I had resented the way Colin "won" Julie first, I must say he was to repay me amply. You will see why in the next chapter.
SIX
Colin, headmaster of Sillington Comprehensive School, told me that he would repay my generosity in asking him to the party with my daughter, Yenli, Julie and Michele.
He was accustomed to receiving pupils who had misbehaved in his study each day at four o'clock. He told me, of course, that it was strictly forbidden to use corporal punishment, least of all on the girls, but he had evolved a useful way of getting some sexual pleasure from some of the erring teenagers-where he was certain that they would rather be punished than their parents.
I was told to be at the school one day at four o'clock. It was a Wednesday and most of the pupils would be having sports and were, therefore, not expected at home till five or five thirty.
When I arrived there were about eight children standing in single file outside Colin's office.
I was admitted and he told me that he was going, where necessary, to say that I was an inspector from the Ministry.
The first pupil was a boy of seventeen and Colin dealt with him summarily. Then came a young girl of about fifteen. She was tall and attractive and well-formed for her age. She had obviously gone some way past puberty and gave the impression of being less than innocent.
"Mavis," he said, "I'm afraid your behavior today with Miss Whittle was wholly to be deplored. I am inclined to send a report to your father and to reserve the right to punish you here by keeping you in on half-days for the rest of the term. But the Inspector here is willing to administer punishment if you are agreeable, and provided you remain discreet."
She remained silent for a time and then said, "Please do not tell my father, please, sir."
"That is well. So you prefer the Inspector to punish you and get it over with."
"Yes," Mavis said quietly.
"Well, will you come back here at four-thirty?"
With that she went and Colin then ran through the rest of the miscreants. One other girl he selected for the same treatment and she agreed to receive the "Inspector's" punishment. She was asked to come to Colin's study on Friday at four.
* * *
Mavis knocked at the door sharp on four-thirty.
"Now Mavis, the Inspector is not only concerned with punishment. He wants to find out what sort of girl you are and he is going to ask you some rather intimate questions. I want you to answer him frankly. You need not be shy or afraid."
The lovely girl smiled slightly as she looked at me and waited for me to begin.
"Well, Mavis," I said. "I hear that you have been seen out with a large number of boyfriends. Is that true?"
"No, sir, not really. I do go out sometimes with one or two of the boys from the school."
"I see." I paused to think out the next move. "Well, I suppose it is true that you are not a virgin then."
The girl blushed and looked down. "N-no, I am a virgin."
"Well, that conflicts with what we hear. Are you prepared to let us examine you? I think this matter should be cleared up if we are to help you."
She remained rooted to the floor and said nothing.
"Well?"
"If you insist and if you do not tell my parents I will let you examine me."
"All right, come over here." The door had been locked and though we were taking a terrible risk we were both determined to go through with it now. She stood in front of us in her gym-slip, white girdle, black silk stockings and black shoes.
Colin lifted her gym-slip and she stood there in front of us with her blue gym-panties exposed to our gaze. I took hold of the top of the panties and pulled them slowly down her legs, touching her legs as much as I dared as I did so. When they fell to the floor I put my fingers on her silky pubic hair and moved my finger down to her slit. I was breathing harshly with lust by this time and I trembled as I sought for her cunt.
Then my finger went into her cunt and I knew that it was unlikely that she had ever been fucked, though it was almost possible for me to get two fingers into her. I was terribly excited and I lightly touched her clitoris for a few seconds as I withdrew my fingers. I could hear her panting and she wriggled slightly to my touch.
"Now, headmaster, you had better check, too."
Colin handed me the gymslip to hold up and he probed her slit with his fingers, leaving his fingers on her clitoris much longer than was necessary for such an examination. Then he plunged two fingers into her cunt, moved them up and down a few times and withdrew them.
"Yes, Mavis, I think you have spoken the truth. And I am sure the inspector does. I think if you will now accept six strokes from each of us we can say you have done your punishment. Do you agree?"
"Yes, sir, I agree," Mavis said, a little surprised. "Bend over that chair!"
She bent over and I pulled her gymslip up over her back to reveal her lovely buttocks, the suspenders running from her suspender belt to the back of her stockings. Colin then brought his hand down on her bottom gently, and kept it there briefly. The second time he kept it on her bottom an instant longer and soon he was almost caressing her. We noticed that her legs had opened perceptible wider and by the time it was my turn to chastise her I was able to bring my fingers into contact with her slit. It was now obvious that she was roused and able and ready for us.
On my sixth stroke I hit her a little harder and then put my fingers into her now wet slit. "I'm sorry I hit you a little harder that time, but I think you'll find this soothing ... do you?"
"Yes, yes," she panted. And then I began to rub my fingers up and down her slit pushing them into her vagina every now and again. "Perhaps you would like to lie down on the couch, you would find it more comfortable, I think" Colin said.
And we walked with her to the couch where we placed her on her back. I pushed the gym-slip up over her hips and began to fondle her clitoris, gradually rubbing it vigorously. She began to wriggle as I did so and faint moans escaped from her lips.
Soon the girl was uncontrollably writhing her body and in a few minutes she was crying out as she reached her climax and her secretions bathed my hand.
"Did you like that?" I asked her.
'Oh, yes, yes, I did," she said pantingly.
"Well, look, would you like to come to a special party on Saturday. But you must promise not to tell anyone where you are going. If you come I will give you something more exciting than that."
She said that she would love to come and we gave her my address. We were taking shocking risks, but I suppose we felt that it was her word against the two of us if the worst came to the worst. So Mavis was to join the other girls at our next party!
On Friday the other girl came into the study at the appointed time and we listened to her as she tried to explain how she had been caught in the cloakroom with one of the boys.
"But you were actually in the boys' cloakroom, weren't you Angela?" said Colin.
The fourteen-year-old looked at him guiltily. "Yes, yes, but ... "
"AH right. You were there. And I understand that you have let him do something to you that you shouldn't Isn't that so?" Colin's shot in the dark went home. She blushed and stammered but in the end admitted it
"And you realize the seriousness of your offense. I think I may have to expel you. But I'll discuss it with the Inspector for a few minutes."
He bent towards me and whispered that he was going to risk suggesting that we fucked her. It was dangerous stuff but it might work in the circumstances.
"Well, we will be frank with you. You ought to be expelled, but if you will give us both a little taste of the pleasure you gave Eric Holmes, we shall say no more about it."
Her eyes lit up and she smiled almost unbelievingly. "You mean that? Then of course I agree?"
"Then please come to my house in about fifteen minutes," the Headmaster said. "Ring the front door bell."
"Yes, sir," said Angela, excitement in her voice.
Angela arrived on time and we took her to the sitting-room which had a large divan along one side of it
"Now we'd like you to take off your clothes, Angela."
She stood there and began to undress. She seemed a little shy but she soon took off her shoes, undid the clips of her suspender belt so that her stockings were free to slip off, and then she took off her gym-slip. As she stood briefly in her bra and panties I was almost beside myself with lust. A fourteen-year-old and we were going to have her....
Then she took off her bra to reveal exceptionally large breasts for a girl of her age. After that-her panties and she was naked in front of us!
Colin said I could have her first. I undressed with alacrity and went over to the child and kissed her. She took me to her and pressed her breasts against my body. Then we walked over to the divan.
"Lie down, Angela," I told her. And she lay back on the cushions, her legs wide apart, waiting for me.
I was large and eager, my prick was throbbing at the thought of fucking a fourteen-year old and I could hardly wait to get my prick into her. I got between her legs and poised my prick to enter her. Then, taking it in my hand, I guided it into her cunt. Oh, the joy of that moment! Oh, the excitement I felt as my prick touched that pristine flesh, that innocent girlish flesh! And I took her in my arms and sank my mouth onto hers, tasting her sweet breath and saliva as my prick went deep inside her right to the very hilt.
I fucked her with all my power, fucked her as she cried and screamed her delight, fucked her with a new urgency as I felt the young, unused and unsullied flesh underneath me. Then at the very last moment I withdrew from her and sent the spunk spluttering over her stomach.
And now she was in the arms of the Headmaster, her now violated cunt at his mercy as he rammed himself into her and fucked her with a savagery I had never seen him resort to before....
SEVEN
I had a taste for the sophisticated as well and when I was asked to a party at the Dorchester a couple of days later I was glad to accept. I knew that some very attractive girl would be there and I had no objection to someone a bit older and more sophisticated for a change.
That's why I made a bee-line for Ariadne Fenton when I saw her across the room. She was a striking girl of about twenty, tallish, dark, with luminous and enigmatic eyes, and perhaps the loveliest legs I had ever seen. She wore a blue dress, fitting her like a sheath, and the most elegant shoes to match-but pretty little else as far as I could see.
She agreed to take me back to her flat for a drink.
I must say I was excited at the prospect of having her. She was not a girl who easily went to bed and was reputed to have had only one or two affairs at the most. It would be a triumph in more ways than one if I could seduce her.
Eventually she said I could take her to bed. When we got there she slowly began to undress and I watched fascinated as she slipped off the close-fitting dress to reval her expansive foundation garments.
She was wearing what is known as an evening corselette. It is a combined brassiere, and corset that runs smoothly down from the breasts and fits tightly over the hips and clings to the tops of the thighs. From the thighs there are four white silk ribbons fitted with claps for the stockings. It really is a most sexy garment You just want to take a woman in your arms that wears a thing like that and fuck her with it on, pushing your cock against its lower edge....
But I did want the elegant and lovely Ariadne naked this time and I asked her if I could unzip the corselette for her....
I suppose I must have a fetish for women's underwear, ranging from teenager panties to the sophisticated elegance of Ariadne's type of corselette. The other day I fucked a girl wearing the loveliest of lace bras with a contour band, and a pantie which fits tightly from the waist to an inch or so down the thighs, matching the bra.
Then there's the girl who wears a mere flimsy cotton bra, a suspender belt and the briefest of panties, often of bri-nylon. If I get a chance I always plunge my nose into the crutch of a girl's panties to enjoy the smell of her sweat and sex. I knew a man once who collected the panties of famous women and he went to no end of lengths to bribe maids and other to obtain the garments in an unclean condition for him. His greatest triumph was a pair of panties worn once by Greta Garbo. More recently he paid about 50 for a pair of briefs used by Brigitte Bardot. I should say there's money in the idea if someone could organize it on a proper basis!
As I was saving I unzipped Ariadne and she stood naked in front of me. She was a triumph of female beauty. Round shoulders running down to lovely arms and a full pair of breasts, topped by large nipples set in brown aureoles, and then a slim waist running out to fine curvaceous hips and buttocks, slendering down to her lovely thighs-thighs perhaps a trifle fatter than perfect proportions demand but perfect sexually.
Her breasts touched my now naked body and that meant I was six or seven inches away from her elsewhere, but my prick reached across to touch her tummy.
I took her and kissed her luscious, rather full lips, and then arm in arm we walked to the bed. She asked me how I wanted her and I suggested that I lay on my back and she rode me. I got on my back and closing my legs she sat astride me and lowered her vagina onto my erect prick. Then she leant forward so that I could take her breasts in my hands. Now she moved her body up and down on my prick and soon I pulled her to me so that I caught the scent of her hair and found her lovely lips. We fucked like this for a while but as I felt my orgasm coming near I wanted to be on top.
I faced her down on the bed and, opening her legs, felt for her slit with my fingers and that edged my body towards her, guiding my prick Into her cunt It is always more difficult to get into a women from behind unless she bends dog fashion. But Ariadne was lying flat as I wanted her. Then I took her under the arms to obtain the maximum "purchase" on her and, my lips against her neck, I began to fuck her. I could smell her lovely hair and body as I breathed Into her neck and pulled myself deep inside her. Then she half turned and our lips met I was soon carried away in my lust for her and I felt the heavy build-up of desire in my genitals. So I began to go up and down her more rapidly, stopping for a while to delay my orgasm, then finally unable to control myself any long, ramming home my prick in six or seven sharp jerky prods. This brought my spunk jerking from my body as she lifted her butt to meet my final thrust
* * *
I was preparing the next party which was to be attended by all the girls including the two new girls from Colin's school. I felt that perhaps more men should be invited and I thought very seriously about this before coming to a decision. In the end I chose an old business friend of mine, a man about sixty. It would add a certain variety to the scene and give him a pleasure he would never other wise experience. In addition I asked an enormous publican friend of mine, a man of about seventeen stones in weight It would be rather thrilling to see him fucking a fourteen-year-old girl!
How were we to organize the party. I do not think there is much fun if one indulges in a mere orgy, anyone fucking everyone else just as they please. It is much more tantalizing if you do not know what to expect!
In the end I had no particular ideas ready for the party and decided to wait to see what happened.
The day eventually came and by eight o'clock all the girls had arrived, including Mavis and fourteen-year-old Angela.
My African friend had an idea to begin the evening with. A game he had played in Lagos. One of the girls, she could volunteer, or lost could be drawn, had to undress and all the men present were to lick her body. The idea was simply to rouse the men and excite at least one of the girls. It seemed quite an exciting idea and I asked for a volunteer. Mavis put her hand up with alacrity.
Well, Mavis was a virgin as far as we knew and a lovely one at that. She had a rather plump figure for her size and age and I was keen to get to her thighs. She undressed and lay on the divan, legs wide open, breasts jutting up like volcanoes. The men, said Ugomo, were to draw cards for precedence, and immediately George the publican drew an unbeatable ace. He was in a seventh heaven, and had never expected such a thing as a naked fifteen-year-old for him to lick. He went over, still clothed, and bent his head down between the girls thighs, soon finding her slit with his large tongue. My old business-friend Peter was next and he unhesitatingly went for one of her breasts. Then the African took another breast, and Colin, to my surprise, took her thighs so far as he could with George's head buried in the girl's cunt. I was amazed that no one had gone for her mouth. It gave me great pleasure to look into her eyes and see her response to the various men licking the diverse parts of her body. But I felt that I was closest to her and she certainly gave me her lips and mouth willingly. After a few minutes all the men were roused as their bulging trousers revealed and it was time to move onto something a bit more substantial.
But the girls then suggested that a man should be treated in the same way and this received general assent I was the lucky one. I undressed rapidly and lay back on the divan, my prick rapidly hardening at the prospect of being licked by my daughter, Julie, Michele, Yenli, Mavis and Angela! They too drew lots and Mavis was first. She at once went for my prick and began to lick it sensuously. Then came Yenli who sought my lips, then my daughter who found she could suck my balls despite. Mavi's attentions. Michele took a nipple as did poor Angela. "I was almost mad with desire as the six teenager girls licked my body, especially at the way Mavis was working my prick between her lips and teeth. In a few minutes I was on the point of orgasm, and I was suddenly spunking into Mavis's mouth to her obvious surprise.
The party was now beginning to get under weigh and I could see that Mavis and Michele were mad for a man. But as I said before I wanted to avoid a mere orgy. We decided on an elaborate game to decide which girl should be fucked first and by which man.
First of all the choice of the girl. They were all to be blindfolded. When this was done one of the men had to kiss them all in turn. And then they had to write down who they thought it was. The girl who won was the girl to be fucked-if he wished. When they were blindfold I indicated Peter to kiss them. He went down the line kissing them avidly, but not touching them in any other way. When the girls gave their answers it was Mavis who got it right!
So she wanted to be fucked and she was smiling all over her face as she got on to the bed.
Now who was to be the man to fuck h-er-as I knew we all desired to? I suggested a quiz game but this was rejected and it was decided that cards should be used. The first man to draw an ace and king should have her. And it was the massive George!
I must admit I had some misgivings about this. He was a pretty ugly brute and yet he was taking the centre of the scene. He took off his clothes to reveal an enormous white body with a bulging stomach and huge thick prick jutting from a body covered with black hair. He weighed as I said about seventeen" stone and his prick must have been ten inches long and almost two inches in diameter. The girl looked apprehensive as he went over to the divan and got on it at her side. He pushed his fat hands between her girlish legs and probed roughly for her cunt. Soon his finger was rubbing up and down inside it, and he apparently satisfied himself that she would be able to take him. He did not realize, I think, that the girl was still a virgin.
He then brought his thick greedy lips down onto hers and avidly sucked and kissed her while he fondled her breasts with his fat, clammy hands. And then, his huge fully erect, he began to get into position to fuck her.
I rushed to him with one of those wet skin sheaths and almost forced him to put it on. Then he got on top of her and pushed his prick into her body. She screamed with agony and shouted to me to stop him:
"I can't take it, I can't," she screamed.
But the man was on top of her now, almost burying her body under his weight and he rammed his prick into her with all his force.
She screamed as he worked it up her violated passage, and then went silent when he had buried into her girlish body as far as he could force it.
He gripped her under him, savagely crushed her lips and breasts with his mouth and chest and then, taking a hard grip of her child-like body he began to work his prick down her sacred passage, before ramming it into her again with the force of a battering ram. Once again she screamed but there was no stopping the man now. He was like a savage beast and soon he was biting her neck as he groaned and grunted in his lust. The girl was by now almost unconscious and I began to wonder whether we should stop the proceedings. But when I looked round I saw that everyone, even the girls, were fascinated by what they saw and were all thoroughly roused by the beauty and beast scene being enacted in front of them.
The huge bear of a man finally came and slumped down on the terrorized child.
When he pulled out of her, she at once showed her relief and apologized to him for not co-operating. She said she did not mind but she was so small he had hurt her, but she knew he could not help it.
I regretted the fact very much that George had been the first man to have Mavis!
The game was repeated and the "victim" this time was the delectable Angela. If only I could get her! I determined to do everything to win the game this time. I suggested a variation that brought in more skill and this was agreed.
We had to draw five cards and could throw three away. The usual poker combinations were to count on a show of our cards. I drew three kings with my first hand and when I drew two new cards they were two knives! I felt I had won and that proved to be the case! I was to have the fourteen-year-old Angela again!
She undressed and waited on the divan for me, her eyes smiling. I took her gently in my arms and played with her breasts for a while and then fondled and titillated her cunt. When she was wet and receptive I plunged my prick into her. I was wearing a sheath of the kind I have mentioned of course.
I guided my huge weapon into her almost virginal body and began to kiss her lasciviously as I did so. Soon I had forgotten the others in the room and with my eyes closed, I could only feel the lovely girlish body gripping releasing my prick, and the wet lips drinking in my saliva.
And then I was coming inside her body, filling the contraceptive with my spunk as I gripped her to me and probed her throat with my tongue! I had had her lovely body a second time!
Now the party took a different turn and two men were to have one girl at the same time, one sucking her cunt the other sitting over her mouth so that he could be sucked by her. My daughter was the first to be selected and soon the African was sitting astride her face with her mouth sucking his testicles. And at the same time Peter was sucking her lovely cunt. When she approached her orgasm Peter was allowed to take her properly and soon he was plunging his prick deep into her cunt. As she had been fitted with a cervical cap he was the first man to "come" properly in a girl that night.
Later the African fucked Mavis, I had Michele, George had Yenli, Peter had my daughter again, and Colin had Julie. And still later the African had the lovely Angela ramming his huge black prick deep into her innocent white body. The night terminated with me fucking Yenli after sucking her anus for twenty minutes (according to the rules we made}, George having my daughter, and Colin having Angela.
Only one girl-Mavis would agree to be fucked by all the men in turn-but we decided to wait for another occasion for this.
EIGHT
But I had my supreme triumph about a week later.
I met a child of eleven in the Park. She walked at my side and seemed quite happy to talk to me. I knew I was on dangerous ground but I eventually found out that her parents were abroad and that she was looked after by her aunt. Her aunt was not much interested in her and did not seem to mind what time she got home. I said I would take her to the Fun Fair and she expressed her delight.
I fixed it for the Saturday afternoon but in the meantime I took a room in South Kensington so that I could take her back afterwards. It was a stone's throw from her aunt's flat.
I got her back to the room about four thirty and I made her a cup of tea and talked about the afternoon's outing. Then I said I liked to look at little girls' bodies and asked her if she would like to undress, I would give her a nice present if she did. She did not seem to mind and in a few minutes I had an eleven-year-old child standing naked in front of me. She had no breasts, no pubic hair and had obviously not reached puberty. But she had a lovely little body and I felt my prick hardening as I looked at her.
"Have you ever seen a man without his clothes?" I asked her.
"No, I haven't," she said.
"Would you like to?"
"Yes."
"Well I'll show you," and with that I took off my clothes. Then I picked her up and took her to the bedroom. I placed her on the bed and said that I would like to make her excited. Then I opened her legs and felt for her immature slit. My finger delicately probed her vulva and then found the resistant hymen of her vagina. I was turn with an urgent desire to fuck her, but in the end I resisted the temptation to do so.
I placed my prick against her slit and moved it gently up and down its length without forcing it in any way against the hymenal membrane. Then I bent down and kissed her on the lips and pressed my prick gently against her slit, the shaft and my balls between her legs. Soon I was rubbing my prick firmly against the inside of her legs, touching her slit and the opening to her cunt, from time to time as I reached the top of my forward stroke. Then holding her tightly against me I suddenly moved my prick rapidly against her slit and found myself coming over her immature cunt lips. I panted with lust as I lay on top of her.
I realized that I wanted a younger girl than I had had already, and during the next few days I made it my business to be on the look-out for someone of the right age and attractions. Then I had a stroke of luck. I met a girl who had just reached the age of fourteen. She was a virgin but fully mature and had reached puberty as far as I could gather when she was twelve. Her name was Rachel and she was dark with black curly hair.
I was sitting in a coffee bar not far from the room I had taken and I got into conversation with her. It was not hard to tempt her to come back to listen to some new records I had bought and we were soon sitting together on the divan in the sitting-room.
I put my arm round her and she at first edged away from me. Then I closed up against her at one end of the divan and, bending towards her, kissed her lightly on the lips. She seemed to respond at once and she pushed her lips against mine as I withdrew. Then I took her in my arms, pushed her down on the divan, and kissed her forcefully and passionately.
She began to move her tongue into my mouth and I responded in the same way. Soon we were exchanging our saliva and I was simultaneously feeling for her rather plump legs. My hand was up her skirt and she did not seem to mind; indeed she behaved as if she was quite experienced despite the fact that she was a virgin.
Apparently she had necked and played with a number of boys but they had never had the initiative to try to seduce her properly.
My hand crept up her legs until I was feeling the soft warmth of her inner thighs, the flesh pressing both sides of my hands. Then I advanced my fingers to touch the panties stretched between her legs and covering her slit It was already wet and I knew at once that she would have me if I wanted to take her. With her skirt still in position I pulled down her panties and soon my hand was creeping back to the top of her thighs. Then I poked a finger into her wet slit and found her vagina. I could get a finger in fairly easily and I felt that with a little work on her vagina I would be able to fuck her without giving her too much pain.
I then returned to her well-formed bosom and asked her to take off her blouse. She unbuttoned It readily and soon I was fondling her breasts under her white cotton bra. She offered to take off her brassiere and when she did so her breasts, very large for her age and size, fell from the captivity. They Were two or three times the size of the young girls we had enjoyed at the party and I eagerly and avidly grasped them in my hands, pulling her nipples to my mouth.
Then I pulled the zip at the side of her skirt and pulled the garment down her legs. She was now naked.
If Renoir had painted a Jewish girl, he would have found Rachel the perfect model. Her body was round and full in every sense and she was remarkably mature for her age. Yet she had the pristine beauty of early youth and though plumper and more mature was in no way anything other than a young teenager. She was the youngest teenager I had had if you exclude the eleven-year-old whom, as I told you, I refrained from seducing.
I took her fattish body into my arms and kissed her passionately and with lust in my eyes. Then I rapidly undressed and, picking her up, carried her to the bedroom where I placed her on the bed. Then I got on the bed and bent my head down to suck her lovely black-haired Jewish slit She smelled of oriental scents-frankincense and myrrh, I thought-and she also had a wonderful sex smell that I had never come across before, especially in one so young. I licked up and down her hairy cunt lips and then pushed my tongue between them to find her clitoris. When I began to suck her clitoris she almost jumped from the bed as if she had had an electric shock. She was now in a high state of sexual excitement.
I kissed her clitoris for a while and then began to work with my fingers in her vaginal entrance. Rather brutally I pushed two fingers in at a time and gradually I got them past the ruptured hymen. Then I pressed home three fingers and although she winced with pain as I forced them into her she was soon ready to take my prick.
I got on top of her and looked down at her.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, but I don't want a baby, I don't want a baby."
"All right I'll not give you a baby. Leave it to me."
With that I placed my prick at the entrance to her vagina and slowly pushed my prick into her so far unviolated passage. It was hard work and she again cried out with pain, but gradually I was inside her, my prick throbbing at the excitement engendered by the resistance of her membranes.
I managed to force it right to her vagina and soon I was so placed that I could fuck her as I wanted.
Then suddenly I felt I was almost about to come so I rapidly withdrew and put on a contraceptive. I used the short American tip which fits over the knob only.
Then I was in her again and began to fuck her in real earnest.
She writhed and squirmed her Jewish teenager body as my forty-five year-old prick rubbed up and down and raked her vaginal membranes, hitting hard against her cervix from time to time.
Then I was coming, coming inside her lovely Jewish body, though fortunately for her wearing a contraceptive. She writhed in agonized delight as I jerked more and more spunk from my prick and as she felt the throbbing urgency of my member. Her own secretions began to flow and her vagina contracted and expanded, gripping my prick in the most thrilling and exciting way possible.
I asked her whether she would like to come to our next party and she readily agreed. I told her the story of the late one and her dark eyes shone with suppressed delight.
I thought that of all the girls at the party she would be the most desirable and the sexiest and I am sure the men would go mad when they saw her naked fourteen-year-old body.
I had already decided on the day for the party and I told Rachel when and where to come. I said that we had in mind letting one girl be fucked by all the men present one after the other and it was obvious that she hoped that she would be the "victim." I could almost see her fighting for the right to be such a victim.
And so the day approached for the greatest party of the lot, when all the girls would be there including Sylvia, Yenli, Mavis, Michele, Angela, Juie and Rachel.
NINE
I call it the party because it was the party to end parties.
All my friends of the previous party were there as well as Rachel.
We decided that we would first elect one girl who would have to be fucked in turn by all the men present. The best part of this, in a way, would be the election itself.
All the girls were obviously both apprehensive and excited at the prospect of becoming the victim. All the men had their own special favorite whom they would like to see chosen.
We decided on an elaborate game of elimination. We would hold out a pack of cards and each girl would take one the highest card would be eliminated each time and then the cards would be shuffled and each of the remaining girls would take one again.
"Well are you ready?" I asked them.
"Yes, yes," most of them chorused.
Then I handed round the cards. The first girl to be eliminated was Yenli and I must say I was rather pleased, and so it appeared was she.
Next round Julie drew an ace and she automatically went out-to my delight because I wanted her for myself when I could arrange things with her. I had no particular desire to her being violated by George and Ugomo to say the least of it.
The cards were shuffled and the third draw excluded my daughter. Just as well, I thought, because I could have her anytime I wanted.
Then the fourth round.
Angela drew a five, Michele drew a four, and Mavis a six. I waited breathlessly for Rachel to show her card. It was a six.
They had to draw between them and Mavis got the higher card and she was excluded!
Another draw and this time Michele drew nine, Angela seven and Rachel two. So Michele was out It was remarkable that the two girls that most of the men secretly wanted were left. They knew how delightful Angela was an they suspected that Rachel would be particularly exciting. And as none of them had had her before ... and she was only just fourteen...
It began to look as if Rachel was to have her wish for her card was a three.
There was a murmur in the room as Angela reached for a card, turned it over and it was an ace. "Thank God it's aces high," I almost heard myself say. It was to be Rachel.
She looked embarrassedly round at the men present and waited for my instructions.
"Well, are you ready, Rachel?" I asked her kindly.
"Yes, I am."
"Well, please take off your clothes and go over to the divan."
She slowly undressed in front of us and soon she was standing there naked with her large breasts and thick pubic hair the centre of all interest. But I saw that George was chiefly interested in her lovely slightly fleshy bottom and it looked as if he would fuck her from behind.
She rushed to the bed and got under the cover while we decided on the order. The African was first.
He went over and pulling back the cover looked down lasciviously at the girl. In a minute he was kissing her breasts like a man coming on an oasis in a desert, kissing the white flesh with the enthusiasm of a baby at its mother's milk. He fondled the other breast as he did so and brought her nipple to its full size. Then he transferred his lips to that breast while he fondled the first with his fingers.
Soon he was sucking her stomach and then his face moved to her pubic hair and he was then opening her legs to lick her slit.
His prick was now enormous and it was already throbbing involuntarily.
He was soon ready for her and placing himself between her legs he guided his prick into her Jewish cunt.
Soon he was plunging his prick deep inside her and we saw the exciting spectacle of the huge African driving his cock in and out of the Jewish teenager, her breasts bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts.
He brought his lips down onto hers and it was obvious that she found him sensually satisfying.
Soon he was sending his spunk into her violated passage, the first time a man had come inside her. We had forgotten all about contraceptives and quite frankly I no longer cared.
It was now my turn. I was filled with special excitement at following the African as I knew that the girl was in a highly roused state and that her cunt was full of his spunk. So I put my prick against her vulva and guided it into her vagina. I felt the hot wetness of Ugomo's spunk as I slid easily into the Jewish teenager's body. I was in a state of high excitement and I began to fuck her ruthlessly and brutally, gripping her with all my power and ramming my prick into her as hard as I could possibly manage I never fucked a woman like this before, nor a girl for that matter. Her luscious body, filled with African spunk, had a special appeal for me and I was in a state of complete frenzy as I fucked her and fucked her till she began to cry out in her delight.
"Oh, it's lovely, go on, don't stop, fuck me," the teenager screamed.
I fucked her all right and soon I was adding my own hot viscid spunk to the African's and filling her violated Jewish cunt.
As the evening went on she was fucked by all the men, one after the other. George took her next and had her facing down, dog fashion. Then Peter fucked her this time on her back. By the time he came inside her she must have been full of spunk. Colin came last and he took his time as he invariably did.
She was almost hysterical by the time he finally came in her and when he did she sank back exhausted on the bed and had fallen asleep within two or three minutes.
The fucking of Rachel had excited the other girls to such a state that most of them had taken off their clothes in anticipation of the next stage of the party.
Young Angela was lying on the floor with her legs apart and the African went over and kissed her. She dragged him on top of her and soon he was fucking her with a new violence.
Meanwhile Michele had taken Rachel to her room and when she returned she lay naked on the bed. As soon as she did so George and Colin made a rush for her and in a minute or two they were making love to her together, one on either side of her, kissing and fondling her breasts and genitals.
My daughter as soon as she threw off her clothes was approached by Peter and he was lying on top of her before she could protest. Mavis rapidly undressed as I went over to her and within a minute I was hard at it, fucking her as hard as I could manage after the exhausting ten minutes with Rachel. Meanwhile Yenli had gone over to the bed and George had seized his opportunity and had left Michele to Colin.
One after the other the girls cried out their delight as they reached their climaxes and as the men sent their spunk into them. I myself soon came in the lovely Mavis and I lay exhausted on top of her on the floor.
We relaxed for a while and then it was proposed that one of the girls should submit to an butt fucking. They did not seem to relish the idea so I asked whether anyone would volunteer. It was Michele who came forward and said she was willing to try. The African asked whether he could be first and I saw no objection except that I felt his prick would never go. into her. But I produced a tube of lubricant and rubbed it over his erect prick as well as squirted some into the girl's rectum.
She lay on the bed, face down, and the African got between her legs and directed his prick to the entrance to her rectum. He proved to be a gentle lover and gradually persuaded the girl to let him force it up her. At first she cried out in agony but when he had reached the sphincter and rested there for while he pushed the hard and eager member in with one ruthless shove.
The girl screamed in agony but as the hot sword of pain died away she began to moan quietly with the excitement of the African's motions. He moved his prick up and down with extreme gentleness, never coming as low as the sphincter.
Later he was sending his spunk splashing into her bowel and she moaned and squirmed with delight as she too reached her simultaneous climax.
Half an hour later the African had her the front way while George fucked her rectum. It was a wonderful sight to see the young girl between the huge African and the massive George. They so managed things that they came in her simultaneously and the girl was almost driven mad with frenzied excitement as she felt the hot spunk jetting into her two secret recesses.
There is not much more to tell you.
The patty was the last one we had at my flat as my wife began to be Increasingly suspicious and almost caught me in bed with Michele one night. And surprisingly enough I had had almost enough of young girls for the time being: I suppose I had worked off my Lolita complex!
Michele returned to France and my daughter went away to the University. I lost touch with Julie and Rachel, but of course heard about the two girls at Colin's school from time to time.
But about a year ago I ran into Rachel in the street She had reached the age of seventeen and she had become a girl-or woman if you will-of striking appearance. I wanted her at once and she agreed to go to a hotel with me. She was, as you can guess, particularly experienced, and she gave me a wonderful fuck, but of course it was not quite as exciting as the time I had her in that little room in South Kensington when she was just fourteen.
And last year I visited France and went to look up Michele. Despite the fact that she was engaged to a young Army captain she wanted me to fuck her and to my surprise she took me back to home and told her mother of her intentions. Her mother, a beautiful woman of about thirty-five, had no objections and we went off to her bedroom leaving the mother in the dining room. She evinced no surprise when we returned an hour later!
On my return to England I settled down to a rather dull domestic life. But the memory of these days with Angela, Michele, Mavis, Rachel, and the others makes up for the dullness of my life.
I am thinking about entering the juvenile fray again one day. I should have to take a separate establishment as it would be quite impossible to bring anyone back to our flat in Battersea. I have some rather unusual ideas too for getting even more excitement than in the past out of such adventures and I promise that if I do decide to start going to bed with young girls again I shall write another story about my experiences.
-------------------------
Black Lover
ONE
Peter Maine looked across the table at the grinning broad shouldered Turk. It was over a month now that Abdul Grali had come to lodge with Peter and his pretty wife Sue, and they had been pleased to get a lodger that needed so little looking after, and who paid his rent so regularly.
True, at first Sue had not liked the idea or having another man in their nicely furnished semidetached house, but they needed the money to help pay the mortgage, and the few women who had answered their advertisement in the local paper had not been able to afford the rent they were asking.
It had been Peter who had brought this hefty Turk home one evening, apparently he had met him in a pub and one thing led to another and when Abdul Grali found Peter had a room to let with part board he jumped at the prospect
The young man looked at the bundle of pound notes the grinning Turk was pushing across the table at him:
"I couldn't help overhearing your conversation to your wife this morning," he was saying, "I don't like to hear of a nice couple like you and Sue getting so much into debt that you are worried in case your home is taken away from you. Take this money, Peter, there is fifty pounds there, I will have some more for you in a few days."
"But why should you want to give me money, or should I say lend me it, because I shall pay you back, Abdul" and Peter took the money and jammed it into his inside pocket.
"Let's say I want to give it to you Peter because I like you ... and your wife."
The last three words were muttered quietly and with more emphasis than the rest of the sentence.
If Peter had any idea that the Turk was slyly making any suggestions he did not show it by his expression or his actions. He kept the money safely in his pocket where he had placed it and rising from the table he said:
"Sue should be back soon, she's been to visit her mother this evening. I think I'll go down to the bus stop and meet her, it is quite dark now and I know she doesn't like the walk from the bus on her own."
"No ... you stay here and let me meet her for a change, Peter," the burly Turk said, getting up and moving across to the door.
To tell the truth there was a football match on the television in a few minutes time and Peter had hoped Sue would be home earlier so that he would be saved the trouble of having to go out and meet her and so miss the program.
"Alright Abdul, you go and meet her, you know which stop she gets off, don't you?"
* * *
The shapely figure of Mrs. Sue Maine had just alighted from the bus when the huge frame of the Turk loomed up in front of her.
"Why Mr. Grali," she greeted him with surprise, especially as he took her arm, "I though Peter would be down here to meet me."
"No, my dear Mrs. Maine, he is busy at the moment, I told him I would meet you and bring you home safely," the Turk told her, "now how about one quick drink before we go, eh?"
"No, I think my husband will wonder where I am if we are late," Sue replied, but was quite easily persuaded when Abdul told her that Peter would be engrossed in the match on the television and it was over an hour later, and the one drink had been in fact about seven, that Sue and their Turkish lodger were at last making their way back to her house.
The burly Turk was a good looking man in his foreign way, he knew that he had a certain charm for women, English women in particular, and he was not surprised when he had no resistance from this young wife as he slipped his arm round her waist when they got to a very quiet part of the road.
For a moment they stopped walking. She had her back to a garden fence and he took her in his strong arms. He was very pleased to feel her raise her own arms and grip her hands round his back. For a moment he poised his thick lipped mouth close to hers, and then finding she did not turn her face he lowered his mouth to give her a long passionate kiss.
While he was kissing her he drew his right arm back from her waist and began to undo the buttoms of her topcoat, getting his arms inside the coat when it flopped agape. She made no attempt to get her mouth away from his open lips even when she felt his right hand drop to near the hem of her smartly tailored skirt Kissing her even more ardently he now slightly bent his knees to get his hand to her nylon clad knee, and with a slow but deliberate upward movement felt with his palm right up her legs under the hem of her skirt.
Straightening his legs he quite easily drew his hand up higher until blatantly he was cupping her Mount of Venus through the thin flimsy material of her panties. At this she did drag her face away from his:
"Oh Mr. Grali, you mustn't ... please ... don't touch me like that," she murmured.
But he noticed she was not at all physical in her protestations and did not move away from his arms at all. In fact he was well aware how wet she was getting between her thighs as he frigged her through her panties.
He did not press his mouth back to hers, instead he smiled slyly at her and murmured:
"Open your legs a little for me, Mrs. Maine."
Despite her shame she slowly did as he asked. She stood there trembling, letting him look directly into her face while he continued to masturbate her.
When he did bend Y-s face forward again it was not to kiss her but to whisper into her ear very intimately:
"You want to be a little bit naughty, don't you?" and as he spoke he was getting his other hand up under her skirt and hooking the fingers of both hands into the elasticated waist of her panties.
Horrified lest anyone should see what was happening she looked up and down this quiet road. Not a soul was in sight and her arms tightened about the very thick waist of this Turk who was molesting her. He was edging his tree like thighs between her thighs as he prised her legs wider apart and, getting his cupped hand directly over her now vulnerable fanny, he pressed his lips to her mouth and really gave her a Frenchy-type tongue kiss.
Amid his slobbering kiss she was panting, his hands were at her most intimate part. All his fingers of both hands were fondling her. Her cunt was being pulled and squeezed apart, his fingers delved in and up her wet cunt sleeve of sensuality. The big Turk wished Peter could have seen how his pretty wife was responding to this love making. It was unfortunate at this moment that someone turned into the road at the far end and began to walk towards them. Abdul quickly drew up her panties and she smoothed down her clothing.
Grabbing her hand quickly he made her clasp his hugely erected tool through the material of his trousers. He had a prick like a mule's and he wanted to make this young wife well aware of his virileness. She seemed reluctant to let go even when the person was getting nearer and slipping his arm round her waist as they slowly made their way up the road towards her house, he murmured into her ear:
"You'd love a good fucking with that-wouldn't you, my dear Mrs., Maine?"
Sue was both shocked and thrilled by his obscene words, she knew there was a great deal of truth in what he said if she was honest with herself.
He was continuing to whisper to her as they walked along:
"It felt good and big when you felt it through my-trousers-didn't it?"
She hesitated, and then became bold:
"Yes, it felt wonderfully big and strong, Mr. Grali."
"My room is next to your bedroom and I can hear you and your husband at night, you know. I am quite sure my dear he does not satisfy you. Do you think I could give you what you want better than he could?"
She felt embarrassed and yet very excited; she did not reply at once but when she did she blurted out:
"Oh I think you would be a wonderful man!"
When they arrived home Peter was just beginning to get anxious. The match was over and he knew Sue should be home earlier than this. He saw at once her lipstick was smudged and he guessed that the big grinning Turk had enjoyed a little kissing with her on the dark, walk up from the bus stop. Oh well, with that money in his pocket and the promise of some more soon he did not intend to upset Abdul. If Sue didn't mind him kissing her then it was alright.
Abdul had promised him some more money in a few days, in fact after they had enjoyed a meal and everything had been cleared away, the Turk took him on one side and slipped another bundle of pound notes into his hand.
"Make an excuse and go out for an hour or so," Abdul muttered.
Peter felt ashamed of himself. But as he pocketed the cash he consoled himself with the thought that he had intended going down to the Mens' Club anyway that evening. A few minutes later he came into the sitting room with his hat and coat on:
"I shall be about a couple of hours," he called out to Sue, "I must get down to the club tonight, got some cash to get from one of the boys."
Left alone the big Turk was not long in getting the willing young wife in his great arms. This time as he began to kiss her passionately she realized that they were in the safety and privacy of her own home. Peter was out and not-likely to be back until the time he had said and this powerfully built and good looking man was holding her and thrilling her with his kisses.
His right hand was soon dipping up under her skirt again. This time she didn't have to worry about anyone stopping his love-making.
TWO
On his way to the Mens' Club Peter was beginning to worry and to wonder what was happening back at his house. The bulge in his breast pocket, the amount must be getting on for a hundred pounds by the size of it, made him keep on walking instead of turning back. After all, he argued with himself, Sue had obviously let Abdul kiss her on the way back from the bus-stop. If he wanted to kiss her again and perhaps enjoy a little pettingwell, that wouldn't do any harm, would it? And he had all this money in his pocket from the Turk so why chance offending him, why worry, why ... why . ...
Perhaps he would have worried more if he could have seen Sue standing close to the big Turk, letting him finger her twat with his hand under the crotch of her panties ... perhaps he would have worried enough to turn back if he could have heard the soft squelchy sound that the thick fingers were making in his wife's well aroused pratt ... perhaps he would have been more than worried if he had seen Sue being taken upstairs by the big Turk, his hand still massaging her between her thighs until at last they were in his bedroom.
Sue had never been in Abdul's bedroom while he was in the house and now she watched him take a small purple colored packet from behind a picture that stood on the bedside table. He took from the packet the sort of rubber sheat she had never seen before, made of a thicker sort of rubbery latex than the normal Durex that her husband used. This one was jet black in color and round it, just where the flange of a penis would be, was a ring of firm rubber about a quarter of an inch in diameter. This addition to the sheath would give the wearer a firm unrelenting ridge round his cock and the frictioning this would give to the vagina the prick was inserted into could well be imagined.
"You ever seen a rubber sheath like this?" he asked her, letting her take the sexy object in her hands and examine it.
"No never," she replied, "it feels wonderfully thrilling."
"You will soon find out," he muttered as he thrust her down to sit on the edge of his bed.
Pushing her nylon sheathed legs apart he knelt down between her thighs and eased her panties right down so that she could kick them free. For a moment the Turk gazed at the young English wife's open red gash and then plunged his face right to it and drew sobbing gasps from her as he kissed and sucked her in the place that all women love to be touched.
Abdul knew that Peter had fucked her the previous night. He had heard the encounter quite plainly through the thin walls. He also knew that Sue had not been given a very good orgasm at the peak of that union and she was very hot and randy now for real gratification. He knew that by the way she so quickly juiced up as he lapped his tongue over her clitoris bud.
She lay back on his bed, keeping her feet in her high heeled shoes down to the carpet, and with her mounting lust she thrust her belly up and down and arched herself so that his face had a very easy and open target.
Peter was almost to the club now. The lights from the building were in sight. He paused; he realized what a lot a man and a woman could do in the time that he was going to be out of his house. Sue was quite alone in the house with that big Turk. Peter bit his bottom lip. He didn't know what to do ... to go on into the club and spend the rest of the evening there or not. He would get drinking with the boys and he knew once he did that he would not be home until the early hours of the morning. Or should he make his way back home straight away ... now ... this minute?
He knew what sort of a man this Turk was. A couple of days ago when Sue had been shopping and Abdul had been working late he had gone into the Turk's bedroom and rummaged about a bit. In one of the drawers of his dressing table he had found two packets of what could only be described as really filthy drawings and photographs. Also about a dozen packets of rubber sheaths, including some in small cardboard envelopes of a foreign brand he had never heard of. And an object of obscenity he had never before seen ... only heard about ... a rubber prick!
Oh yes, he knew what sort of man this big Turk was. He might still have been amazed however if he could have seen the animal like passion that Abdul was putting into his cunt-lapping of the ecstatic young wife, using both hands to spread her cunt lips and pull them wide apart. He had his face buried in the resulting red wet maw of her gaping minge.
When the big Turk had almost driven her out of her mind with the wild desire to have her orgasm, he took his face away from that hot well of her lust and getting to his feet leered down at her. Then slowly, while she watched him with wide open but bleary eyes, he drew that strange thickly rubberised and leather ringed rubber sheath down his great throbbing shaft.
If at the time that Peter entered the front door of the Men's Club he could have been magically transported to the bedroom of the big Turk, he would have seen as soon as he opened the bedroom door, the big hefty hairy naked backside of the foreign gentleman rising and falling rapidly; he would have seen the comparatively small white body of his white spread-eagled wife under that hulking torso, her arms and her legs thrust outwards in careless abandon as if each limb was devoid of the power to move.
It must have been a spine chilling as well as a lust-provoking sight to see his pretty wife almost completely smothered under the broad heavy Turkish body and to listen to the snorts and grunts of sheer animal pleasure that the man was exhorting as he gave Sue the best fucking of her life.
Sue's eyes were flickering, first open wide, then closed, then flickering again as her passion was stoked to inflame all her nervous system. Now and again her small pinkish tongue lolled from her mouth as she licked along her moist lips and panted for the breath that was being knocked out of her with each fierce heavy lunge on top of her belly of this brute of a man.
That leathery ring on the outside of the strange rubber must have caused havoc to her sensitive vaginal walls and this was evident by the way her body suddenly stiffened, her eyes flickered far more rapidly than before. A shudder that seemed to effect every part of her went through her belly and then she was straining with every ounce of her energy to press herself up to this hulk of manhood. Her eyes stopped blinking, remaining wide open, the irises went from view under the upper lids and her arms stretched out sideways from her heaving body, her hands clenching and unclenching as if trying to reach and hold an invisible object.
"Ahraaaaamggggguuuugggguuuummmm ... "
The long drawn out moaning gasp that came from her twisted mouth had to be heard to be believed. Certainly her husband had never heard this sort of sensual erotic sound from his pretty wife. Suddenly her arms ceased stretching outwards, instead they swept up to embrace the great shoulders of her lover. Her legs also lifted and crossed over behind the tops of his thighs. As she clung to him with every last breath of her strength the one word that he loved to hear kept falling from her contorting mouth:
"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck ... fuck ... aauuhhuugg!"
Abdul got his mouth to her ear and began to tongue the tender inside and then to bite the lobe:
"I knew this was that you wanted," he whispered to her.
His tool, immense by any standards, and now dressed in that thickish rubbery sheath with the stimulating leather collar was the most lust inducing, the most sensually satisfying sexual object that any woman could ever desire. Certainly Sue had never known such ecstatic peaks during lovemaking as she was having now with this big smiling Turk.
The bed frame began to creak and then to shake violently as the Turk really began to get near his own orgasm. Mrs. Sue Maine clasped him to her body even more tightly as she sensed that huge organ inside her was growing and throbbing towards its climax. She felt the nipple of the rubber sheath bulging with the great wads of spunk that were being spat into it as the Turk let his roe shoot free.
She wished that she was feeling the hot spunk in the raw, even through the rubber teat she could feel how terribly hot it was and she made up her mind that whatever the consequences might be the next time the Turk did this to her she would make him put his cock in her without a rubber sheath, even though this very special one he was wearing had added to the enjoyment and the excitement of this mating.
THREE
Peter put down his glass of beer. He had drunk only half of it and heads turned in surprise as he suddenly left the bar and hurried out of the Club. He had decided that he would go back home. He would not leave Abdul too long with Sue. He would not give them much time to misbehave themselves. As he left the club and hurried up the road the young husband was not to know at that precise moment Abdul Grali was withdrawing his spent penis from Sue's stretched and aching, but happy cunt, and that while the big Turk stood in front of her she carefully slid the thick rubber sheath from his magnificent prick.
She held the rubber in one hand and allowed the full teat end to rest in the palm of her other hand, as if weighing the contents. She was amazed at the weight and the quantity of sex fluid in the sheath ... ever had she known the rubber sheaths used by Peter to be anywhere near so heavy and full as this one when she took them from his limp prick.
Abdul took the soiled rubber from her and then pushed her once more down on her back. Leaning across the upper part of her body so that she could not possibly get up he held the rubber near her face.
"Now I'm going to give you a nice drink of fresh warm spunk ... " he muttered, "open your mouth."
"Oh no ... no Abdul, no!" she protested, trying to get up but finding this was not possible.
"It's no use you kicking up a fuss," he went on, using his hands and fingers cleverly to get her mouth open slightly and the open end of the rubber sheath inserted between her lips and teeth. Lifting the french letter so that the contents flowed to the opening that was in her mouth he slowly allowed the thick warm fluid to enter her mouth.
At first she felt she wanted to be sick. She knew she had to vomit, but then as the slow flow of the slimy warm funny tasting stuff continued to trickle into her gullet she found she was not altogether disliking the sexy flavor. She began to suck at the rubbery sheath and when he held the length of the rubber higher and more directly over her open mouth the spunk simply dropped down her throat as she greedily gobbled and swallowed the sext filth.
When the rubber sheath was drained dry he allowed her to get up from the bed. "Now you are not to wash your mouth or have a drink, do you hear?" he told her, "I want you to kiss your husband when he comes home, give him a nice long open mouthed kiss so that he will taste the flavor of my spunk."
No sooner had he finished speaking than they heard the front door being opened. Peter was returning earlier than expected ... not that it made any difference now!
Hurriedly adjusting her clothing and making herself as respectable as possible Sue went down the stairs to greet her husband. From the landing the grinning Turk looked down at them, he saw Sue kiss Peter, with open mouth, just as he had told her to. He derived great pleasure at seeing the young husband recoil and then press his lips to Sue's mouth again as if he didn't believe what he could taste the first time.
Peter looked over his wife's shoulders up at the leering Turk leaning over the banisters on the landing. The young man knew he had arrived home very much too late. He had not been imagining things when he thought he could taste male sperm in his wife's mouth as he kissed her. It was all too true, as he kissed Sue he and she could savor the tangy acrid flavor of the Turk's spunk.
FOUR
Just when it would seem that the big powerfully built Abdul would be continuing as Mrs. Sue Maine's lover for a long time, fate played a strange trick. Peter Maine was fortunate enough to win a fair amount of money on the football pools.
With a great flourish he paid back what the Turk had "given" him before he had started to interfere with Sue, and with a brave front he told the depressed Abdul he would have to find somewhere else to live.
Not many months afterwards Peter was back in his normal financial difficulties. Sue agreed with him that they should take in a lodger, or a pying guest again. This time Peter was determined it would be a woman and not a man who was to share his home.
In answer to the advertisement in the local paper a certain Mrs. Gregson came round to see them and eventually took up her residence. A stern faced woman of about thirty-six, strongly built and with a domineering manner, she was not the type that appeared very friendly, but as she could afford to pay the rent the Maine's were asking Peter and Sue did not see why her appearance or her stern manner should make any difference.
Right from the start she was quite different to what Sue had expected. Once they were on their own in the house and Peter had gone off to business the woman became very friendly indeed.
Within a week the two women were the best of friends, so much so that on the Sunday morning when Sue was having a late lay in and Peter had gone off to his golf club early for the day Mrs. Gregson brought the young wife up a cup of tea and, to the amazement, if not displeasure, of Sue, the woman climbed into bed beside her.
"We can have a nice day together my dear," Mr. Gregson murmured as she began to fondle and pet the excited and surprised young wife, "now that your husband is away for the whole day we have nothing to prevent us getting to know one another better, have we?"
Sue had hated to admit it to herself but she had been sorry when Abdul had been forced to leave the house. Now she was beginning to think with this Mrs. Gregson she might be finding another kindred soul who was not getting her sexual appetite satisfied.
For a few moments the woman's experienced hand had been fondling all over Sue's lovely breasts. Now the right hand went down slowly under the nightgown across the soft belly. Sue shuddered as she felt the hand of a woman touching the thickish hairs of her pube for the first time.
Her instinctive reaction was to push the hand away, a feeling of disgust went through her and it was only the greater strength of the woman that enabled her to resist Sue's attempt to dislodge her groping wandering hand.
Suddenly Sue let out a deep sigh. The fingers had found her clitty. At once all her attempts to avoid Mrs. Gregson's fingering ceased. The lovely thighs opened just as if Peter had been laying beside her and was stroking her passions ready for his love making.
The moment Mrs. Gregson had first seen the pretty Sue she had decided that she would have this lovely young wife for herself. The process of getting Sue to be her lesbian partner was well under way now. Quite blatantly Mrs. Gregson was frigging the writhing young wife, murmuring sweet words and phrases of endearment to her.
Soon she had taken Sue's hand and guided it to her own mature vagina, so that each cunt was being fingered. Both of the women were soon writhing and softly moaning with the pleasure that the fingering was giving them. Mrs. Gregson always enjoyed the inexperienced way her "victims" touched her up for the first time. They were always so shy. so modest, but she soon changed all that.
The more experienced way that Mrs. Gregson frigged Sue had the effect of making her reach her orgasm first. Sue was literally bouncing up and down and twisting from side to side in her passion as Mrs. Gregson's nimble fingers worked and rubbed harder and faster. Sue's moans and grunts of pleasure were louder and then she was having a long drawn out come.
For an hour the two women lay in one another's arms, caressing and cuddling and when Mrs. Gregson thought Sue had recovered from the frigged orgasm she taught her what thrilling pleasure two women may get together when they indulge in mutual cunt sucking.
* * *
Later in the day the woman had hoped to introduce this pretty Sue to a good hard dildo prick that would have completely captivated her passions, but her plans were not to work out so easily. Just after lunch they were surprised by a knock at the front door. The bull nicked stout man introduced himself as Mr. Gregson and enquired from Sue if his wife was in. As she had never heard any mention of a Mr. Gregson Sue had though that he must be dead, or at least that the Gregsons were separated or divorced. Mrs. Gregson was not in the least bit pleased to see her husband and while Sue tried to be perfect hostess and serve them coffee she could not but help realizing this couple were at daggers drawn.
"I told you, Greg," the woman was rowing with him, "I would never sleep with you again. I hate you-I hate you-do you hear me. I never want to have you touching me again!"
The outburst from her new friend embarrassed Sue more than it effected Mr. Gregson. He simply looked at Sue and smi
"You must excuse my wife," he said, "she gets these wild moments you know. She forgets that I am her husband and that I have certain rights ... and that is why I am ... "
His sentence was broken off as his wife tried to wrestle him towards the door. She was screaming at him:
"I told you that you would never touch me again . . .never ... never, do you hear ... NEVER!"
He pushed her roughly back so that she sprawled on the floor at Sue's feet.
"Alright you bitch," he snapped at her, showing for the first time his anger, and then looking at Sue he went on:
"I suppose she has been up to her games with you, my dear, has she?"
The way Sue blushed told him how true were his allegations and before she could stop him he had stepped across to her and taken her in his arms:
"If you want a Gregson to make love to you, I shall make sure it is the right sex!" he snapped, just as he pressed his mouth over hers.
Mrs. Gregson pulled herself to her feet. She saw that her husband was feeling up under Sue's skirt while he kissed her and apart from a slight wriggling protest the young wife was allowing him full license.
She knew her husband had found her and come to the house for one thing. Well, why shouldn't he let his pent up lust be satisfied with a more willing body than her own. Why not let Sue have the benefit of the hot frustrated seed of this virile man. Mr. Gregson sensed that a change had come over his wife. She was not being aggressive towards him; she was in fact sliding her hands between his body and Sue's and getting his flies undone. He felt Sue's hand being dragged down his front, a soft not unwilling hand clasped his erected prick.
His own hand had been so far content to feel the smooth cool flesh of her thighs above her stocking tops. Now it quickly got under her panties and frigged her moistening hole.
"Take her up to her bedroom and give her what you came her to give me," murmured Mrs. Gregson.
Within minutes Sue found herself on her back on her own bed. This man so much older than she was beside her. Her panties had already been dragged down by the eager hands of his wife. Ashamed of herself and yet secretly pleased that this randy man had turned his attentions towards her, Sue guided his stiff prick to the hot slightly agape lips of her fanny. She felt him slid his hands under her bottom, she raised herself to allow him to grab her bottom cheeks and by raising her belly up she helped the insertion of that fat knob into her waiting pratt.
Mrs. Gregson stood watching Sue's reactions. She saw her slim arms come up and fold over behind Gregg's shoulders:
"You're in luck, Greg," his wife muttered, "Sue is very randy today. I gave her a good licking a few minutes before you arrived. I didn't know I was getting her ready for my own husband's cock, though!"
Greg grunted and with a lunge like a bull he drove every last inch of his strong gristled cock into Sue's hot nest. The way Sue bucked and writhed under him left no doubt of the need she was feeling for the joy his cock was giving her. For a brief moment the man was still, the sound of his wife's soft coaxing words groaded him into violent action.
"Go on, Greg, fuck her, her husband doesn't give her enough cock, I can tell you that. See if you can give her a better time, go on Greg ... fuck her . . .fuck her hard ... darling."
This was the first time for years his wife had called him "darling." Strange that it should be when he had his cock in another woman while she watched him. Delightful too that this other woman was younger and better looking by far than Mrs. G. and with great thudding humps and lunges he strove to give this charming wife the fucking of her life.
Mrs. Gregson looked down over her husband's shoulders at the flushed face of Sue.
"There darling," she muttered, "This man of mine is a bull, isn't he? Better than that husband of yours, eh?"
Sue was clinging to the man, wriggling her bottom and writhing from side to side as she moaned and jerked herself on to a much needed climax. The Gregson's shaw her shudder and then stay rigid for a brief moment. She was having an orgasm and yet Gregson was still nowhere near finishing in her. She could not help comparing this bull of a man with Peter; never did Peter manage to hold himself back so that he could keep on fucking her after she had come. Sometimes he came himself far too quickly, leaving her frustrated and unhappy. Now and again he managed to come at the same time as she did, but never was anything so wonderful as the way this man was keeping his cock so stiff and controlling to fuck her even after she had let her own juice flow.
When at last his stream of hot lust was released to saturate her womb, Sue had her second orgasm, a long tense come that was even better than the first. It was the best and most satisfying fucking she had had since Abdul had used her body, and certainly put Peter's lovemaking in the shade.
When Mr. Gregson eventually took his departure, it was with the promise that he would be back to visit, and to fuck, Sue again within the next week. For the first time for many months Mr. and Mrs. Gregson parted without a scene. She felt a certain satisfaction in knowing she had found a "vessel" that her husband could vent his lust upon and so be spared the humiliation of having him touch her body at all.
That "vessel" was Mrs. Sue Maine.
FIVE
It did not take Abdul Grival long to find other outlets for his virile manhood. A small ill-kempt grubby boarding house near the East India Dock Road was run by a woman whose friendship he had cherished for some years. It was to this house that many a young girl had been brought to spend her last few nights in this country before departing in one of the many small boats that left the dock with an illegal cargo. The captains paid well for a pretty girl or woman whom they could get on to their boat quite easily from Mrs. Herbert's house. Not only would they enjoy the female companionship during the voyage but the money they paid to the arch procurer Mrs. Herbert would be more than repaid them by the sale of the white flesh in a distant port.
To this tall terraced house that stood on the corner of a street near the docks the huge Turk made his way. After cheerfully being the portly and elderly Mrs. Herbert's stud for a week or so he was about to depart again when the good lady changed to engage as her kitchen help a very pretty girl whose first job this was since coming from the nearby orphanage.
The girl, just fifteen and so happy to be away at last from the strict discipline of the orphanage, found her new job hard work, but the food was good, the pay was quite good, and Mrs. Herbert was very kind to her. She did not know that her future had been discussed and decided by her employer and her foreign friend, the big rather horrid looking man, Mr. Grival.
It was in her second week at the house that the girl was surprised one evening just as she was preparing for bed when Mrs. Herbert came into her bedroom. The way the woman closed the door before turning to face the startled girl told young Betty that this was no ordinary good night visit.
As Mrs. Herbert came nearer and slipped her arms round the girl from the back, she murmured:
"I hope you are happy here with me, my dear. You know I am a very lonely woman. I want you and I to be good friends."
The girl did not answer at once. She was looking down watching the heavily beringed hands gently mould themselves over the slight swelling of her breasts. The woman went on:
"You are such a pretty girl, Betty dear, you are so warm and soft. I love cuddling girls as warm and pliable as you are. Don't be shy, my dear child, let me give you some of the love that you have missed by being in that orphanage for so long."
Secretly Mrs. Herbert was delighted at the way this innocent girl was responding. She had made no attempt to resist the sly massaging that was being given to her breast and now as her breath began to come more heavily the worldly woman knew she was exciting the girl in a way she was sure she had never experienced before.
"Oh ... oh my ... chaaa ... Mr. Herbert," the girl started to stammer, "you are making me feel ... feel so funny ... please ... chaa ... that's making me feel even more strange inside."
The last part of her sentence was due to the way the fingers and thumbs of the woman were tweaking her nipples through the thin material of her dress and bra and each little nipple was growing and jerking to a throbbing finger of sensitive awareness.
Betty felt the hot breath of the woman on her neck, the very thickly applied lipstick on her lips gave of quite an odor, far from an unpleasant smell and one that excited the young girls. As if by instinct she turned her face towards those lips and the next moment she was having her first real adult kiss, and from a woman at that-although at first the youngster had kept her lips together in the way she thought all kisses were taken and given.
"No my dear we must enjoy a real loving kiss ... open you-mouth ... no, wider than that ... that's it, keep it open for a moment."
With the young innocent mouth at her mercy Mrs. Herbert slowly allowed her saliva to dribble on to Betty's tongue and then when quite an amount of the slimy spittle had settled on the slim quivering tongue of the girl Mrs. Herbert put her own mouth full over Betty's lips and with agile and clever probing and poking of her tongue tip made the girl gulp and swallow the warm odorous saliva.
At first as the warm quite thick saliva drained down her throat Betty felt she wanted to be sick and try to vomit it up again, but as the woman repeated the little trick several times the girl gradually began to get a thrill from swallowing this woman's mouth juice. It was but several minutes before the girlish mouth was greedily gulping and swallowing all the saliva that Mrs. Herbert could conjure up and transfer and it was at this moment that Betty was aware that the hand covering her right breast had slid down towards her tummy."
With the movements of a woman well versed in such practices Mrs. Herbert got her hand under the girl's dress hem and before Betty could as much as try to utter a protest the thick hand was delving down inside the elastic waistband of her panties.
Mrs. Herbert increased the flow of warm saliva into the girl's mouth as she clawed at the soft velvety lips of the young fanny. Low moans as well as the continual gasps for breath came from the girl's mouth as she experienced a very cleverely applied masturbation whilst being, french kissed so obscenely. At last the thick lips of the mouth covering the girl's had to come away to get breath, but the rubbing between the writhing thighs went on and a sly grin of satisfaction spread across the heavily made up features of the woman.
"You like me loving you like this, Betty dear," she murmured as she got her index finger against the tip of the swollen little clitoris button that was beginning to throb and sprout from the moist soft fold of cuntish flesh.
Betty was turning this way and that, her slim body seemed possessed by hidden devils as her writhing denoted that a sexual orgasm was rapidly being built up. Mrs. Herbert suddenly released the panting girl, she did not want to bring her off just yet. The look of utter dejection and frustration on the hotly flushed face of the pretty girl made the woman happy.
Betty flopped down to sit on the edge of her bed, still panting, She looked up at the smiling face of this woman old enough to be her mother. She saw Mrs. Herbert was fumbling in the pocket of her dress and she brought out a packet of postcards kept together by a broad elastic band. She handed them to the trembling girl:
"You have a look at these my pretty young lady and see if they don't make your blood boil even more."
The band was quickly removed and as the girl turned over the first card her mouth fell open. It was a photograph of Mrs. Herbert with Abdul the big Turk whom Betty found rather frightening. Mrs. Herbert was fully clothed but the man was naked, laying on his back with Mrs. Herbert half laying and sprawling with her face near his loins. She had her mouth close to the upright thick shaft of flesh that jutted from the hairy belly and the girl saw that Mrs. Herbert was actually in the process of licking the Turk's penis.
The next photo showed Mrs. Herbert actually taking the great dome shaped penis knob right into her mouth. Mrs. Herbert had taken the bundle of postcards from Betty's trembling hands:
"I'll turn them over for you to look at, dear," she told the girl softly, "you slip your hands up under my skirts, that's right, right up my legs as high as you can."
Another postcard was turned. This one the youngster saw showed Abdul standing up with Mrs. Herbert kneeling in front of him. She had one hand under his huge swinging testicles, her other hand drew back the thick foreskin of the prick and she was gamming him with mouth wide open to accept the shaft into her throat.
"Put your hands up the leg of my panties," Betty heard the woman telling her, "get your soft hands right to my cunt, you lovely little girlie."
Excited beyond anything she had ever experienced before Betty found her fingers amongst the very wet and thickly fleshed cunt lips of the woman. The next card was being shown to her. This one was of the Turk with his face glued between Mrs. Herbert's legs while she held her skirt up for him.
Holding the postcards in one hand Mrs. Herbert stroked the soft hair of Betty's head with her free hand while she murmured words of encouragement to the hot and excited fifteen year old:
"You like being a loving girl, don't you, Betty my dear?" she said softly, "you like having your hands between my legs and playing with a grown woman's mature cunt, don't you?" she urged, "You know that the way you are feeling inside your little belly is called being randy, don't you? You like me making you feel randy, don't you, Betty dear?"
The girl could only nod, she was far too excited and advanced in her comparatively innocent sexuality to try and think what to reply to Mrs. Herbert's strange words. The postcards had now been laid on the bed and Mrs. Herbert was again frigging and tantalizing the juvenile with her very experienced fingers. Soon the girl was actually sobbing in her aroused rut. She had to nod her head furiously when Mrs. Herbert asked her if she liked her loving her like this.
Mrs. Herbert smiled and put her mouth close to Betty's ear:
"I think you would like it even better if you had a nice man to love you!" she whispered, and nodding down towards the cards of obscenity she went on: "I think a hot randy little girl like you needs a nice strong man like my friend Abdul you saw in the photographs, eh?"
She felt a shudder go through the girl and she quickened her masturbating on the soft oily little quim.
"Your little fanny would love to have a nice strong prick like that Abdul can give you, my dear," she went on, trying to keep her hand to the writhing girl's fanny, "your lovely hot cunt is made for a man like that great Turk, my dear. Would you like him to 'cow' you with that lovely thick prick he's got?"
Betty felt the hand move away from her hot little next. She was so sorry that the thrills the fingers had been giving her had stopped. She saw Mrs. Herbert looking into her face. She was waiting for an answer.
"Cow me? What do you mean ... I don't understand ... cow me? I don't ... " the girl stammered and the grinning woman patted her flushed face.
"You are even more innocent than I thought you were," she laughed, "that is all the better. You have liked me making you randy, haven't you?"
The girl nodded and Mrs. Herbert went on:
"Well, when a pretty girl like you has been made randy the next thing is for a man to do what I like to call 'cow' her. You know what a bull does to a cow, don't you? Well, my good friend Abdul is a very fine bull and when I say he is going to cow you he is going to do with that lovely prick you saw me kissing in those photographs, what a bull does to a cow!"
At that moment they hear heavy footsteps coming along the landing towards the bedroom door. It opened and in came the bulky Abdul. Betty tried to get her hand down from Mrs. Herbert's clothing and. at the same time to wriggle away from the woman's hands herself. But as Mrs. Herbert stood up and looked down at the hotly flushed young girl she smiled and said:
"Don't worry, my dear, Abdul knows what I have been doing, he knows I have been making you a nice randy little girl ready for cowing. Now let me help you get your clothes off, you can't let such a wonderful bull have you in all these pretty clothes."
While she was being undressed by the eager Mrs. Herbert, Betty saw that Abdul was also taking off his cloihes. Within two minutes of him coming into her bedroom, Abdul had the naked little girl cradled in his thick arms, her white slim body compressed against his heavy hairy stomach and chest and his mouth giving her the same sort of lust provoking kiss that Mrs. Herbert had given her a few minutes before.
It was no surprise to the watching Mrs. Herbert when she saw the girl's white bare arms move upwards and slide round the hefty shoulders of the brutish Turk. Betty felt excited and afraid as she became aware of the way the Turk's penis was growing and thickening as it became squashed between his hairy belly and her soft curved stomach. She had seen his sex in the photos but had not had a chance to get a good look at it in the flesh as she had been cradled in his arms the moment he had stripped.
Betty eased her body slightly away from the hairy torso that was pushing against her and looked downwards. She moved her right hand from the Turk's neck to touch that flowing purple domed knob head she saw rearing up at her belly button. Mrs. Herbert was delighted and putting one arm round Betty's slim waist and the other round the fat hairy back of Abdul she urged the girl on to rub the thick prick she was holding so nicely.
The girl felt down the thick shaft and held for a brief moment the heavily drooping balls that she found hanging beneath the base of the prick. Suddenly Betty felt herself being pushed backwards. She fell on her back on her bed. The heavy naked body of the Turk fell with her. She saw the grinning heavily made up face of her employer leaning over the Turk's shoulder:
"Now you are going to be cowed properly, my sweet," the woman was muttering, "and tomorrow you will be on the high seas and I think old Captain Mallow will see that you are cowed every day until you reach your destination, which I believe is a certain port down the East coast of Africa."
Betty had hardly time for the spine chilling words to sink in for the big Turk was roughly prizing her thighs apart with his thick strong knees and settling himself down on her tummy. She felt the blunt bludgeon head of his tool being pushed against her soft wet tingling pussy. She saw Mrs. Herbert massaging the broad naked back of the Turk with her hands:
"Go on, Abdul darling," the excited woman was muttering, "give it to her, dearest, show me you know how to row a little girl like this sweet innocent birth."
Betty began to squirm and to moan. The big Turk was panting:
"She's tight ... tight as ever I've known one ... " he said as he twisted and tried to lunge into the child from another angle.
"Cos she's tight, never had a cock in that little next before," replied the woman as she reached under the broad naked torso and fondled the Turk's heavy balls. The touching of his testicles by those experienced hands drove the Turk to desperation:
"She's got to have it ... she must have it!" he cried out, "she'll take every inch, you see. I'll make her have it all!"
"Of course you'll give it all to her," said Mrs. Herbert, as she continued to massage his hot balls, "you'll give it her all, so will those sailors on the voyage and so will those big blacks when she is sold."
The girl could not be expected to appreciate what those words meant in her present hot randy excited sate. She clapped her arms up round the shoulders of the heavy man on top of her as she thrilled to the piercing of her maidenhead and the filling of her vagina with a manly prick. Now the fucking really began.
The pain that the girl felt at having a prick for the first time was quickly forced to give way to the utter ecstasy of her first come, brought off by a prick. The same prick that had satisfied the young wife, Mrs. Maine, was now giving a devirginated hole the same sort of 'must-have-it-all' sensation in a fifteen year old.
Half an hour later the satisfied Turk and the procuress left the bedroom. Betty was sound asleep, well fucked and happy. Only a small pin prick of a hypodermic needle in her left buttock denoted that she would not wake for twenty four hours. By that time she would be on board a boat bound for Africa. She would probably wake to the weight of the Captain's heavy body on her belly as her new master would try and get his own spunk to mingle with that of the Turk's in the child's womb.
SIX
It did not take Abdul long to realize just how easy it would be for him to get his own back on that upstart Peter Maine. The big Turk had not forgotten or forgive the way he had been given his money back and then sent packing as soon as Peter had a few pounds in his pocket.
Abdul smiled to himself. The young husband had been no fool. He had realized it would not take a powerful virile man-like Abdul long to get his share of affection from the attractive Sue, and although he probably did not know just how intimate his wife had been with their lodger, he was not going to take any chances.
Abdul had a plan mapped out with Mrs. Herbert, a plan that would get them both some money and at the same time take away from cocky Peter Maine his pretty wife, not only for ah hour or so, but for ever!
The big Turk guessed correctly that Sue would like to meet him again. Not that Abdul was going to lower himself to give the young wife any more happiness with his stallion prick. No-other plans were a foot. When Mrs. Sue Maine had a telephone call from Abdul and agreed to meet him at a certain boarding house near the East India Dock Road she did not know that when she entered that house of evil she would not again ever see her husband or her friends.
She was not even suspicious when Mrs. Herbert informed her that Abdul would be delayed and invited her to have some tea while she waited. She did not know that her tea contained a very strong dosage of an African sexual stimulant and this may have been the reason why the young woman was so eager to accept the invitation when Mrs. Herbert said to her:
"It seems that your friend Abdul is delayed longer than he expected. In case he cannot get here at all, why not come along with me upstairs and I will see if I can find you another loving friend?"
Sue felt sick at the stench that came from the rooms of this house as she followed the woman upstairs and along the passage. When she followed through into a bedroom she came face to face with the ugliest man she had ever seen. By the horrid yellow color of his flesh he was some kind of half breed oriental. He had a body that seemed as broad as it was high and he was squatting on the edge of an unmade bed. The broad body was surmounted by a head that was altogether too large for the neck and shoulders that supported it from the evil yellow skin two slant eyes of gleaming black beadiness glowed like ebony embers.
Mrs. Herbert had moved behind Sue as if to prevent any attempt on the young woman's part of escape. Sliding her arms round Sue's body she said:
"This is the young white woman I said I would bring to see you Hi Feng. I am sure she will please you."
Sue was spellbound and rooted to the spot What did this woman mean? Had it been pre-arranged that Abdul should be late so that she could be brought up here to this horrid yellow skinned man?
Already the eager fingers of Mrs. Herbert were undoing the pretty pearly buttons down the front of the new pale blue blouse Sue had on. Now and again the woman rubbed her palms over Sue's breasts and with her mouth close to the young woman's ear, she muttered:
"You will like Hi Feng. He knows how to appreciate a woman, especially a young white woman, like you my dear."
The squat oriental raised both hands and with fingers like talons beckoned for Mrs. Herbert to bring their victim closer to him:
"Bring me the white flower nearer," he said in a low toned voice, "I want to kiss that perfect white throat and neck."
Mrs. Herbert kept her arms about Sue when they were close enough to the oriental to get his face to her throat Sue could not describe the thrills that raced through her as this thin lipped little oriental gave her slobbering kisses and licks all over her neck and throat and finally on to her mouth itself.
When he had reduced Sue to a panting heaving excited state he directed his gaze down to her blouse which had already been undone by Mrs. Herbert
It did not take his eager fingers a moment to get the blouse gaping open down the front and reaching his hands round her body under the blouse he soon had the bra clip unfastened and with the help of Mrs. Herbert the nylon bra was pulled free from the lovely fleshy globes of the white woman's breasts.
Sue had felt revulsion at the sight of this horrid man. To have him touching her would make her vomit and yet as the wild waves of awakening sensuality spread through her body from the calver way he was sucking at her nipples, she could not restrain a sob of pressure and lust. She did not try to resist when she felt him grab her wrist and pull her right hand down to the great bulge at the front of his trousers. She felt ashamed and yet unable to control her actions. She was now undoing his flies as quickly as she could. She had to hold that throbbing monstrosity that she could feel through the trouser material.
Now that she had it out free from his trousers, his tool seemed even larger and more throbby than before. She lovingly ran her hand up and down the stem enjoying the feeling of power that emanated from the sheer strength of the sexual weapon.
"Will you take your clothes off now for your new friend, my dear?" Mrs. Herbert was asking her and already two pairs of hands were helping the young wife to take off her blouse and skirt Then the pretty nylon underslip and finally her panties. She was to keep her shoes, stocking and suspender girdle on and she made the most desirable sight as she spread herself out on her back on the bed. While her legs were pulled well open by Mrs. Herbert the grinning little squat oriental was straddled across her belly like some wild animal; leaning down across her he guided his rammer like cock to her cunt and plunged it in her to the very depths of her womb.
Mrs. Herbert bending over the young writhing woman was stroking the sweat covered brow:
"There, there, my sweet young wife, this is the sort of prick you need, isn't it? A prick even longer and thicker than your Abdul's is making you happy now, my dear."
To the demented and sex-drugged Sue Maine the older woman's words seemed all too true. She writhed and sobbed out her passion and her happiness. Her cunt began to respond as a cunt can only when it is really truly well filled and stretched. It began to suck at the great swollen knob of the thick organ inside her as the controlled oriental started to fuck her with hard steady strokes.
Sue had never felt so wonderfully filled since Abdul had loved her, and this man, despite his race and size was giving her the best fucking she had ever known. Sue was crying out loudly and wriggling like a woman possessed when she saw the bedroom door open and in came a grinning Abdul. It was clear to her that he was not in the least worried or even surprised at what he saw. Sue got the impression, correctly, that her seduction by this horrid big pricked yellow man had been all arranged from the beginning.
The big Turk came and leered down at her sweating face:
"Hello, Sue, my sweet," he mocked her, "enjoying a nice yellow cock for a change? Hope you enjoy it because all the prick you get in future will be yellow-or perhaps now and again a touch of black!"
The oriental was beginning to work her up towards her peak, amid the battering and the thumping of their bodies Sue managed to gasp:
"What do you mean Abdul, why weren't you here to meet me?"
The Turk's reply was almost lost to her as the yellow cock produced in her the most wonderful climax she had ever known. As her female sex spunk was drawn from her inner pores by this ecstatic fucking she heard Abdul saying to her:
"You are with white slavers, my dear, you will never see your husband again: and what is more pleasing he will never see you again. He will never use that lovely cunt between your charming thighs again. That lovely hot hole he did not want to share with me will now be denied him-yellow men and black men will use it instead!"
It was while she was feeling the hot flow of the orientals spunk flushing into her body that Sue saw the gleam of silvery metal as Mrs. Herbert handed a hypodermic syringe to the grinning Turk. A sharp pointed tingle in her buttock and she knew something was being injected into her bloodstream.
And then darkness....
SEVEN
A demented young husband was grateful for the way the lodger, Mrs. Gregson, comforted him when it became clear that Sue had gone off. An attractive women like Sue Maine is always liable to run into trouble. Peter realized this and he felt sure that she had been lured away and was being held now against her will. Mrs. Gregson had advised him not to go to the police yet:
"After all she might come home in a day or so and tell you she has been having an affair and it is all over. You would look a fool to the police then, wouldn't you?" she told him.
"I think I may be able to help you find your wife, dear," Mrs. Gregson told him, and seeing how his eyes lit up at the mere mention of being able to find her, she went on:
"That is if you are a very good boy to me."
"Good boy to you? What do you mean Mrs. Gregson?" he asked, "please if you have anything that will help me find Sue tell me right away."
"All in good time ... all in good time," she teased him, "if you will do just as I tell you, I will tell you about a certain phone call Sue had yesterday. A call that will, I think, be a vital clue for you."
"Alright ... alright Mrs. Gregson, have your little fun. But promise me you will tell me what you know?"
"Of course I will, dear, but first you must prove to me that you want this information about your wife. You must be a good boy ... "
Peter was puzzled. This quite attractive woman had never once called him anything near an endearing term until today. Never had she shown any interest in him and yet here she was calling him him dear, and talking to him as if he were a mere boy. Be a good boy indeed! What did she think she was playing at?
Her next words told him a part of the game she was playing with him:
"Now, Peter my love," she said, moving smoothly across the room to where he sat and standing with her back to him as she looked at him over her shoulder, "drop down on to your knees behind me and kiss my bottom."
For a moment he was stunned, then as if in a dream he eased himself out of his chair and fell to his knees close behind her. Gripping her hips he pressed his face to the tight fitting skirt where it covered her well fleshed buttocks. He gave her several quite hard pecks of kisses on the skirt until she reached behind her and placed her hand on the top of his head.
"Not like that you stupid boy!" she said, her voice quite hard and cold, "I want your face under my clothing, get under my skirt!"
Bending lower Peter got his head under her skirt which she held up for him, then while she muttered something about his being a stupid clot she clawed her panties down to her lower thighs so that her large cheeks of butt flesh were naked for him.
He began to kiss the smooth hot flesh of her bottom until he felt her hands on either side of his face guiding it so that his mouth was in direct contact with her anus. For several minutes she let him kiss her bottom and then moving away from him she told him to get up and follow her up to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed and pointed to the chest of drawers:
"In that top drawer Peter, my sweet, you will find some clothing, some of my clothing. I want you to take off your suit and under things and put on my clothes."
Hardly believing what this attractive, if stern faced woman was telling him. Peter opened the drawer. He saw that it continued various items of feminine attire, including a pair of high heeled, open toe shoes. A strange thrill raced through him as he ran his hands through the silky flimsy under things that were in the drawer. He began to undress, blushing and feeling more than a little em-harassed as he saw her smiling all the time as she watched him.
When he had drawn the nylon stockings up his legs and fastened them to a frilly suspender girdle he had secured round his waist and then tried to stagger into the high heeled shoes Mrs. Gregson called him across to her before he could put on any more of the clothing. The idea of wearing her things had excited him. His penis was rearing stiffly up from his naked loins from under the lacey edge of the suspender girdle. She reached out and, taking a firm hold with both her hands on his penis, she squeezed it as hard as she could until he was forced to cry out
"Aha, so this is the strong manly weapon you use on that pretty wife of yours, is it?" she chided him, "tell me Peter, darling, did you love pushing this prick right up Sue's cunt, tell me dearest, tell me if you liked sucking her tits."
He could not describe the weird way he felt at having his prick held by this woman while he was dressed in her stockings and shoes, and to hear her talking about the missing Sue only added to his lustful excitement His cock was like a bar of iron and throbbing like a mad thing. He was lamentably sorry when she took her hands away from it.
"You haven't got a pretty wife to fuck now, have you my dearest?" she went on, teasing him, "so do you know what you have got to do? You have got to jack off yourself. Go on Peter, darling, let me see how you rub yourself off. Go on ... go on dearest, if you want me to tell you about that phone call Sue had. Do as I say ... go on ... toss yourself off."
Ashamed of himself and yet secretly wanting to give himself some sort of ssxual relief he clapped his hand round his rearing shaft and commenced to go through the familiar motions of self abuse while the bright eyed woman watched and enjoyed his actions. First she watched his face and then his jerking hand and while he masturbated she kept on teasing him with her obscene chatter.
"Poor Peter darling, someone has taken his pretty wife from him. Now he's got to rub himself off instead of fucking her. Poor Peter, go on you darling, rub all that spunk up your pipe ... let me see how thick your seed is when you toss yourself off. Just think Peter darling, that pretty wife of yours is having another man's big prick stuffed into her cunt and you have got to rub yourself. Just think Peter, think of Sue's lovely cunt ... think of it ... think of it while you toss off."
Her words excited Peter beyond measure and his hand simply flew up and down his thickening prick as he strove to bring his orgasm to its peak. Suddenly it was upon him. He could not hold back, not wanting to soil her carpet or her stockings he was wearing, he tried all he could to catch and hold his jetting fluid in the palms of his hands.
EIGHT
The moment his prick subsided in its outflowings of juice Mrs. Gregson took his hands and held them to her face, rubbing the sticky wet slime of his spunk all over her chin and mouth and swallowing quite a quantity of it and not releasing his wrists until she had slobbered his hands clean of the semen.
Then, standing up from the bed upon which she had been sitting, she told him to kneel in front of her:
"Now reach up under my skirt and take my panties right down," she told him. He reached up under her skirt and as his hands rose towards her waist his arms forced the hem upwards so that her well fleshed white thighs above the tautly held nylon stockings met his gaze. He loved the look of her plumpish thighs. She was more heavily built than Sue and this change he found exciting.
He got his trembling fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly and carefully began to draw them downwards. He saw at once that she was far more heavily-haired than Sue. As soon as he drew the panties a few inches downwards he saw the thick dark tufts of her pube hair showing. When he lowered the garment sufficiently to expose her genital region itself he caught his breath and gazed at the very hairy, thickly lipped vagina.
She stroked the top of his head as if he had been a dog and bending her knees and opening her thighs a little more she murmured:
"There you are, Peter darling, there's a lovely cunt for you, eh? Look at my nice thick wet lips, what a lovely sucking fanny it is, isn't it, eh Peter darling? You are trying to imagine what it would be like to push that spunked off prick of yours right inside it, aren't you? Well, you are not going to find out what paradise my cunt will provide for that cock of yours-not yet at any rate. First I'm going to rub my cunt all over your face. Keep still, Peter darling ... there ... there ... how does that feel, eh? That's helping you forget about Sue, isn't it? You don't need a wife as pretty as Sue when you can have a cunt like mine all over your face, do you?"
From a range of about a couple of inches Peter was gazing in lustful admiration at the slightly puffed and very thick cunt lips of this woman. She was as randily aroused as he was and the pinkish rolls of flesh glistened with her love juice that had oozed from the inner membranes of the mature vaginal opening. The young man suddenly found himself gasping for breath as she leaned more forward with her thighs agape and compressed his mouth and nostrils full against the warm wetness of her quim.
Suddenly she pushed his shoulders. He fell backwards and while he was getting his legs from beneath him she showed him she wanted him to lay on the carpet beside her bed on his back, while she squatted over him, her legs astraddle his shoulders, her cunt down on to his upturned face. As she was facing his feet she could easily lean forward enough to clasp in her hands his now erecting penis. While she wriggled her genital region all over his open mouth and nose she slowly rubbed his penis shaft with long deliberate strokes.
Never had the young husband felt like this with Sue. Never had he felt so excitedly randy as he did now with this wet hot moist gash of an older woman's cunt being squashed down on to his face. Her hand was cleverly masturbating him while slowly the sensation came over him that he was actually a part of her cunt. The smelling odor of female sex ... the indescribable taste of her sex juice and the sex flesh that filled his mouth ... he felt with ever increasing excitement that he was becoming more and more a part of her body.
As if from another world he heard her muffled voice. His ears were covered by her thighs. He could just hear her. She was babbling on about him not needing a wife, not wanting Sue again. She would give him all he wanted. The hand that was rapidly flashing up and down his aching prick stem seemed to be intent on drawing all his spunk from him again, despite the great spend he had wanked off himself a few minutes ago.
Mrs. Gregson was well aware that her young lover was fast approaching his second orgasm. She eased her thighs slightly further apart to allow his ears more freedom. She spoke louder to him. Now he could hear her plainly. As his spunk began to boil and move in his balls he heard her saying:
"Darling Peter, you don't want a pretty little wife like Sue, you want a woman who is randy. A woman who can excite you, a woman like me who can make you sex mad, my darling. You don't need Sue ... let your wife have all her cock somewhere else, you have your loving with me, dearest ... "
Her hand flashed up and down with an even faster and more urgent stroking and then great blobs of sticky spunk began to spurt upwards in fierce throbs as for the second time in less than half an hour Peter's prick was handled to its orgasm.
He was still spread out on the carpet breathing heavily and feeling exhausted but very contented and happy, when the front door bell rang. Mrs. Gregson quickly adjusted her skirt and hurried down to the door. A moment later Peter was astonished when she came back into her bedroom-accompanied by a man, a bull necked ugly sort of man who was introduced to him as Mr. Gregson!
The Gregson's laughed at Peter's embarrassment as the young man tried to hide his near nakedness from the grinning man.
"Don't worry about him, darling Peter," the woman said, "I have told him that your wife has left you and that I am trying to give you some comfort."
The man bent and roughly pulled away from
Peter the sheet he 'vas using to try and cover himself:
"I like to see a nice looking young man like you dressed in my wife's stockings and girdle," he laughed, and then went on, "I'm sorry to hear Mrs. Maine has left, though. I came along this afternoon hoping to give her another good fucking."
"A ... good ... fucking! What do you mean?" stammered Petter. The two Gregson's laughed again at his expression.
"Don't be so shocked, darling," said Mrs. Gregson, "Your wife loved having my husband's cock stuffed into her. You surely don't imagine your prick was enough to satisfy a pretty young thing like Sue, do you darling? She loved prick, just as you love cunt, my cunt!"
Mr. Gregson smilingly pushed Peter down again on his back: "I came here expecting to fuck your wife and instead I find you indulging with my wife. Never mind ... you are a nice young man ... let me see how much you love my wife's cunt ... come on dear, straddle him, let me see his face between your legs."
Mrs. Gregson resumed her position. This time she faced the young man's head instead of his legs as she lowered he cunt down to his upturned and flushed face. Her husband watched her as the young man opened his mouth and greedily began to gobble at the moist sticky cunt lips. Mr. Gregson slipped his hand down to his wife's clitoris and rubbed it until he forced her to have her orgasm and they both looked down between her thighs to see the young man eagerly sucking and swallowing every drop of her come.
When at last she rose from the panting young man, Peter saw that Mr. Gregson had opened his trousers and was slowly jacking off his tool. A thrilling tremor went through him as he realized he was looking at the prick of another man which had been up Sue's cunt. Mrs. Gregson must have read his thoughts for she took his wrist and made him clasp her husband's rigid prick as she muttered, "There Peter darling, feel how hard my husband's cock is, dear. This was the lovely stiff cock your wife Sue loved, now you are going to watch this same prick fucking me and making me happy."
The Gregsons had not been on loving terms for a long time and old Gregson was pleasantly surprised to hear his wife say this. He had been looking forward to having the pretty Sue but now that this was not possible to have his wife as the next best thing and seeing her and this handsome youth behaving in such an obscene way had made him desire her all the more.
"And when I've filled her with my spunk you can fill her with yours, young man," old Gregson chuckled as they watched Mrs. Gregson stripping completely naked and getting on her back on the bed. "After all," Mr. Gregson went on, "I enjoyed myself with my prick inside your wife, Sue, so its only fair I should let you have your prick inside my wife, eh?"
The clue that Mrs. Gregson had promised to give Peter was not mentioned. In fact Peter was ashamed to admit even to himself that he was now not so desperately obsessed with the desire to find Sue just yet. Mrs. Gregson had opened up a completely new and thrilling way of sexuality to him and while he watched the backside of old Gregson heaving and falling between her legs he knew that he would be content and happy to get his sex with this randy mature woman for as long as she allowed him to use her body and she use his.
NINE
Round about the time that Peter was enjoying his new thrills with Mr. and Mrs. Gregson, his pretty wife was herself experiencing new sensations. The plans that had been made to have her on board ship quickly did not materialize and as there was some delay she was kept locked in the cellar of that terraced house of evil to which she had been lured by the telephone call from Abdul.
From the hard bed to which she was secured by the right wrist to the bedpost Sue watched Mrs. Herbert come into the cellar and after exchanging a few words of comfort with the tired and frightened young wife the matronly figure of this older woman began to be exposed to Sue.
She watched the blouse being undone and removed and then standing near the bed Mrs. Herbert fondled her large pendulous breasts with both her hands while the young wife watched. Then the woman slipped off her skirt so that Sue saw her heavy sheathed in a tight fitting girdle of shining black satinex. From above the waist band of her girdle and also where the edges gripped the plump thighs wads of white flesh overflowed.
Sue's eyes never left the woman as Mrs. Herbert opened the small drawer in the bedside table. From it she carefully lifted two objects and placed them on the table top. One was wrapped in a covering of black silk and was oblong in shape, the other was a packet of Durex. Puzzled Sue watched the woman take the slither of rubber from the packet and then from a small green bottle that she took from the shelf over the bedside table she poured a fluid into the unrolled rubbed sheath. When the condom was three parts full she held it by the open end and let it dangle playfully over Sue's face. Then she tied a small knot in the neck of the sheath so that the fluid could not escape.
Placing the condom on the edge of the table top Mrs. Herbert quickly slipped Sue's skirt down and off over her feet and just as rapidly and easily the panties followed the skirt. Now with a strange smile on her face the woman got her fingers to the young wife's slightly pouting cunt lips and for several minutes massaged them and fondled them until Sue was softly moaning and writhing on the bed.
Sue's eyes were flickering from this expert masturbation but she kept them wide open when she saw Mrs. Herbert reach across and pick up the object in the black silk. From the silk oblong unwrapped an object that made the eyes of the watching
Sue boggle. A thick, long artificial prick made of rubber and colored a vivid crimson. It looked a lust provoking if fearful instrument of sexual delight. From the lower base of the shaft hung two imitation testicles as large as tennis balls and around these and the lower part of the stem of the dildo quite a thick flurry of real hair had been secured.
Taking the cunt tormenter in her hand Mrs. Herbert smiled down at Sue: "Open your pretty legs my dear, I am going to give you a little treat."
The lovely shapely legs of the young woman slowly opened and the older woman, bending over her, slowly ran the fat knob of the rubber monster round the outer rim of the slightly moist cunt. Sue began to pant. She lay back with her eyes closed as gradually Mrs. Herbert worked the fat rubber stem into the vaginal mouth and slowly inserted it more deeply. When about three parts of the rubber prick was wedged inside the stretched fanny Mrs. Herbert let go of the base of the instrument and getting Sue's blouse open and her bra off she spent ten minutes massaging and milking the young woman's aroused nipples. Sue was very quickly reduced to a slobbering writhing semi-naked piece of randy womanhood and satisfied she had worked her up to her satisfaction Mrs. Herbert reached across and picked up the filled rubber condom and told Sue to open her mouth.
Now Mrs. Herbert held the rubber sheath over Sue's open mouth so that she could suck on it as if it were a prick and at the same time the thick rubber cock was agitated to and fro in her randy hole between her thighs.
Despite its thickness the imitation cock was buried completely inside Sue's pratt and now as she writhed Mrs. Herbert fucked her hard with the dildo with strokes first short and jerky then long and steady until very soon Sue gave a muffled scream and her entire body went taut and stiff. Her eyes were wide open, staring almost madly, up into the grinning face of the woman as she bent over her victim.
"Bite the rubber, bite the rubber, bite it ... " the woman screamed at Sue. As her sharp teeth drove a small hole into the bloated condom the fluid gushed from it and down her throat. It tasted like spunk. It was a concoction a chemist friend of Mrs. Herbert made up for her and it did taste like the male seed. It gave Sue the sensation that she had sucked off a prick that was capable of spending about ten times the normal amount of spunk when it had its orgasm.
When the thick crimson rubber prick was withdrawn from the stretched fanny, it was covered in a greyish film of the young woman's come. The reason it was crimson was that when it was used, as it often was, on young girls who were virgins, it did not show the blood so much and so did not frighten the youngsters as the sight of their blood on a white prick would do. The great cock had not drawn blood from this well fucked young wife but it had certainly made her have a come that she would remember for a long time.
Mrs. Herbert, well pleased with her little game with her prisoner, helped her get her panties, skirt and blouse on again before leaving her, still breathing heavily, on that hard bed to which she was tethered by the wrist.
Although the attractive Mrs. Sue Maine had not been taken aboard a boat as planned, the fifteen year old Betty was already on her way to the shores of East Africa. She found she was to share the bed for the journey with not only the old rough Captain, but his first mate, an equally rough and randy old devil. It seemed the long nights were spent continually on her back, her slender shapely legs bent and forced upwards so that her knees were to her breasts. One or other of her two sleeping companions would be on top of her belly, his stiff penis thrust right up into her warm receptive cunt nest.
After her initial soreness and shock had worn off by the third night out from port the youngster found she was beginning to actually enjoy the love-making of her two elderly bunk companions. She began to respond to their fucking, which was just as well for the destination to which she was bound would provide her with a continual supply of large black prick. The African chief she was to be sold to paid very well for young and pretty white meat and this fifteen year old would fetch a good price and be worth every last piece of gold the captain would receive in exchange for her body.
The first mate in particular seemed to have a prick that sported a great swollen knob that sent shivers of sheer pleasure right through the youngster whenever he really went to work on her lithe body. At first she had hated herself for experiencing this pleasure with a man as old and as repulsive as this, aged mariner, but her flesh was too strong and her will power too weak for her to keep up a mock resistance very long.
After one long and very rewarding fucking he had given her she found herself crawling across his tired old body and kissing his face and mouth as if he had been a young handsome boy friend or husband and she was in love with him. The old sailor smiled to himself. He had got this youngster going well now; he had made her as randy as he liked to have young pretty girls. Taking her face in his hands he guided it down to his thickly-haired chest and made her kiss his nipples and suck the hair. She willingly complied with his silent wishes and even when he forced her head lower down towards his great stomach she did not resist.
Her warm soft lips kissed and her moist tongue licked all across his fat paunch. It was but a short distance for him to get her mouth now down to his penis. Her kisses changed to a sucking motion as he got her to wrap her open lips over his rampant knob.
Oh yes, by the time she was sold to her African master the young Betty would be well versed in all manner of perversions and prove a veritable bundle of charm for the negro pricks she was destined to receive.
--------------------------
A Taste of Violence
By Anthony Matthews
1
You either live with your aunt or in the school dormitories! And that's that! I won't have you rooming with some stranger in New York!" Joshua Antrim spoke emphatically to his lovely young daughter whose life had been converted into a dreamy whirlwind of excitement over the long-waited-for event of her approaching departure from Stetson City to enter college in New York.
"But ... Father!" Ruby said with displayed anxiety, "These days every girl who goes to college lives with a roommate in a little apartment near the college campus. Sometimes even three or four girls get to live together and ... I mean, that's the thing to do! Everybody does that in college! I'll be the only one different!" Tears of frustration were beginning to flow from Ruby's huge, liquid eyes.
"Come, come, dear ... " Her mother spoke softly, in that mellow, conciliatory tone of voice she usually had when there was any argument. "Let's don't get that silly ... You're a college girl now, Ruby. How can you believe such nonsense? Why, if no one as you said-would live on the campus dormitories, why would they have them at all?" She emitted a soft, patronizing laughter that only increased Ruby's helpless rage.
They have them for parents like you to be able to keep their hold of your children's umbilical cord all through their lives! She thought to herself, but maintained her self-control in order to keep her father's rage at a safe level, where he wouldn't get any ideas of calling off her trip to New York, and even her college education altogether. She tried desperately to find an answer to her mother's mocking question which would not be taken as a disrespectful insolence by her strict parents, and at the same time would defend her point with some possibilities of success. As a result, she got a headache that seemed to have clogged all the thinking channels of her brain, slowing down her thought processes to the minimum. Suddenly, everything seemed useless and unworthy of the least bit of struggle. Her father had ended the argument of her stay in New York while in college; and, to emphasize his withdrawal he was sitting with the back of his massive arm-chair turned toward Ruby, reading a newspaper and puffing smoke from his metal-shafted pipe like a racing locomotive mind. But she kept all her conclusions to herself.
She didn't want to spoil her only and ev-er-more remote chance of getting finally on her own feet, freed at last from the suffocating parental domination. She decided to bow her neck once more and swallow her humiliation for what could be the last time, if she was clever enough to 'handle the matter with the proper care'. "Well, mother ... " Her throat felt dry and coarse like sand-paper. "If I can choose, I would prefer to stay on campus. After all, I'm going there only to study, and nothing more ... I guess, then, that the closer I'll be to the school facilities the better I'll come out later at the exams ... " As she said those phrases of tamed resignation, Ruby Antrim even managed to have the faint caricature of a twisted smile appear in the pallid trace of her pulpous lips.
However, at that moment Ruby Antrim swore never to come back home to that slow-tempo existence she was subjected to by parents who had created a morality of their own, out of the obscure narrowness of their own twisted phobias and their acrid pleasure when some grief result from their neurotic attitudes.
Ruby accepted everything they would have the whim to impose on her future life away from home. Nothing really mattered any more. In fact, she even received some of their capricious demands with the happiness of knowing the futile value of a parental order or rigid set of conduct once she'd be away, away, out of there ... free!
She had already made up her mind and had decided to start a new life, different and totally anew from that she had lead with the parental neurosis. And for this life, the only set of rules that would really appeal to her was that one which read the opposite of whatever her parents had imposed, and that one which believed in everything her parents did not believed, and that one which approved of everything that her parents condemned...
If she had always been denied the freedom of associating with people of her own age-group, and most specially with people of the opposite sex-group, she'd be only too anxious to relate only to those people of the "forbidden groups."
Joshua Antrim was having a furious attack of gout the very day his daughter was supposed to leave for college. The pain kept him from going to the bus depot with her to see her departing. Ruby had to make an effort to conceal from everyone in her household the daring, impromptu plan that this unfortunate impediment of her father help to create in the girl's searching mind, adventurous mind.
Since her father had paid ah the living and tuition expenses in advance, she had been given only a small amount of money and the promise of an equal, meager amount every month, while she was in school and away from home. Yet, she realized she needed all the money she could get hold of if she was to carry out her plans of moving out the dormitory and to a little studio of her own as quickly as possible, once there.
She took a taxi with all her suitcases to the bus depot. When she got there, immediately she went to the place where parcel shipments were made and shipped her luggage to her name at the address of the college dormitory, keeping only a small suitcase which contained some clothing and all she needed for road-traveling and which was light enough for her to carry it easily. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she walked over to the cashier and obtained a refund for her bus ticket to New York City.
Having completed all those preliminaries, Ruby walked over to the road that buses took on their way to New York, and waited for a car to come that would give her a lift in that direction.
Ruby didn't have much money, so she decided to try hitch-hiking, a flutter of fearful anticipation running through her body as she stood on the side of the road, her finger motioning to the passing cars. Finally, a young fellow slowed down and stopped his green Oldsmobile right beside her. His gentle bespectacled face made Ruby think that he looked too shy and reserved to be possibly interesting. But when she noticed his large strong hands and the ease with which he moved his powerful, compact body, a tingle of lustful anticipation passed through her. Now that she was leaving home and would be finally independent, Ruby no longer felt hesitant about indulging in a full sexual experience and she wanted it so badly and eagerly that it almost caused her some pain radiating from that ev-er-hungry hair-lined center of her body. It was as though a second umbilical cord had been cut, a strong cord of obligations and responsibilities tying her to her parents and prohibiting her from doing anything which they might disapprove. For the first time she could look at a man and want him, sincerely, without also feeling guilty about it
The young man's name was Bert or so he told Ruby as he drove fastly in the direction of New York. Behind his glasses, his eyes had measured her appreciatively and the young girl couldn't miss the brief flicker of lust that passed through them. Her adventure was beginning well; already she had awakened the lustful senses of a young man who seemed very potent indeed and capable of giving Ruby all the thrilling sensations she had been craving for during those long lonely nights and dull days of country life.
They stopped for lunch at a roadside diner and when they climbed back into the car, Ruby moved over closer to Bert, her legs folded back under her, the hem of her cotton skirt above her knees.
"What kind of job were you thinking of getting, Ruby?" Bert asked after the young girl had told him of her intentions once in the city.
"I'm not sure ... I haven't had any experience. Do you think it will be hard for me to find one?" She said with an anxious intonation in her voice.
"Shouldn't be with your looks, baby," Bert commented with a lewd smile on his thick lips.
"I was thinking I might take some commercial course first, but I'd really like to get a job right away instead, and be on my own."
"What's the rush? Anxious to make your first million?" he teased her.
"No," Ruby said, glancing at the young man out of the corners of her eyes, "but I'm sick and tired of living with my parents or with relatives. I want to live by myself so that I can do what I want without ever having to render account to anyone."
"And what is it that you want to do?" Bert asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
She didn't reply, but continued looking straight ahead out of the window, a faint smile on her face. She sensed him looking at her and then felt the light pressure of his warm hand on her knee. It was strange, the way she reacted to this desired touch. She was afraid, really afraid. For the first time, since she had left her home and all the parental security it represented Ruby felt alone, coldly and irremediably alone. But she had to react against such negative feeling. After all, what was happening to her right now was exactly what she had been waiting for a long time.
"It's hot outside. I feel all sticky." She said, just to say something.
Bert withdrew his hand as she unfolded her legs and stretched them out before her; her knees spread apart. She moved them back and forth and, holding the hem of her skirt, shook it slightly. "Perfect day to go swimming ... I'd like to dive-in right up to my neck."
"Yeah, I'd like to dive-in too, but not in water ... And not precisely up to my neck." He took one hand off the wheel and ran it down over her hair. "Baby, as I said before, you're a real killer."
He pulled her head toward him until it laid on his shoulder. She tilted it up and he kissed the end of her nose while his hand strayed down over her shoulder, under her armpit and over the proud rise of her breast which his fingers cupped and then tentatively pressed, her flesh felt soft but resilient under his spreading touch.
Moving her leg against his and laying her hand on his thigh, her fingers lightly kneaded it and then crawled slowly upward, toward the crotch of his trousers. Her lips whispered with soft flutters against his sensitive neck, going up to his ear, the love of which she gently chewed, her hot breath filling his ear with radiating currents of lust. With her hand she finally found the bulge between his legs and began massaging it until it became large and swollen, pressing tightly against the material. Digging his fingers in her breast, Bert rubbed and twisted the delicate knob of her nipple, making it swell out under the thin white material of her blouse like a ripening grape.
The loud blast of a horn jerked them up, startled. The car swerved to the right as Bert quickly spun the wheel and narrowly missed a car which roared past them, its horn emitting a continuous screech.
"My Gosh!" Bert exclaimed. After a moment, he laughed hollowly and then said, "Honey, our romance almost came to a sudden and permanent conclusion. I'm afraid this isn't exactly the position recommended for safe driving!"
"Can't we open a new chapter?" Ruby asked as she looked at him coquettishly, her cheeks still flushed from the sensations she had been experiencing under his wanton, manly touch.
He glanced at her quickly, at her flushed face and the thick hair tangled by the wind, at her dark eyes, their lids half-closed, gleaming with a frank invitation and then he slowed the car, soon turning off the highway and driving onto a graveled road which he followed until he made another turn this time onto an almost-hidden and quite bumpy lane leading into a small wood.
2
Switching off the key, he turned toward her, one hand still on the wheel. Wordless, they looked at each other for a moment, feeling the tension between them stretched tautly like an elastic band. But it snapped suddenly as they came together, their bodies hungry and frantic for each other. They met like two wild cats, each furiously trying to subdue the other with their lips and hands; chewing, scratching, bruising, their mouths pressed together like two crushed flowers, sucking at each other's lips and tongues, their hands sliding heavily over the mounds, curves and hollows of their bodies as though they were trying to explore each other.
Ruby cried out aloud as he grasped her hard with one hand and wrenched her around so that her backs was smashed against the steering wheel. The hard rim dug into her flesh and locked one arm behind her. Bert's lips bit into the smooth, golden hollow below her neck while his fingers, tangled in her hair and pulling it tightly, held her head like a vice. His other hand pressed and twisted her breast as though it was a ripe orange, from which he were trying to squeeze every drop of juice. So sharp was the pain that she screamed and struggled furiously to make him stop, kicking her legs until her skirt rolled up over her taut pubic mound laid like yellow grass. Her full, tanned thighs trembled like golden cream jelly as she bucked and writhed, trying to escape, struggling to free her captive right arm from where it was, crushed against his chest, the pen in his pocket jabbing into her flesh. He stopped her moans with his mouth and, at the same time, brought the palm of his hand down with a loud smack against the soft, delicate flesh at the inner surface of one of her rounded thighs, leaving a bright pink imprint. The sting and shock of the blow momentarily halted her contortions.
He worked his hands up under the elastic band of her panties, touching her wet, palpitating vagina tantalizingly, tickling the warm moist lips between her legs. As she felt his hand loosen at the back of her neck and his lips kiss hers more tenderly, Ruby began to relax and slowly freed her hands. But when his nails suddenly scratched the soft, velvety flesh under the fleece of her loins, she clawed his back and bit his lips violently until the blood flowed.
"You bitch!" Bert snarled. He clasped her wrists angrily in one of his hands. With one quick movement, he pushed her away from him and, still holding her wrists, opened the door of the car and said harshly: "Get out!" Pushing her off.
As she didn't move quickly enough, he got out and pulled her after him. Her legs slid over the seat, the friction burning the naked underside of her thighs. She felt as though her arms would come out of their sockets. She was filled with a wild anger and wanted to fight back. But at the same time she was strangely paralyzed by violence, this savage display of the male's lust for her. And her body responded with humiliating lust for what he had to offer her. The conflict between her anger and her desire made her almost hysterical for a moment. She didn't know whether to tear at him with her nails or to fall upon him with all the lust and passion that her long-pent-up desires demanded as a release.
But she had no time to decide for he threw her roughly to the ground and fell heavily on top of her, the impact of his body crushing the breath out of her. The sharp rip of tearing cloth mingled with her moans as he first tore off her white blouse and then, with one jerk, tore off her brassiere and pressed his steaming mouth against the soft pulp of her heaving breast. When she felt his hard lips sucking and biting the tender, aching nipple, flashes of pain lanced through her body and she began to churn violently beneath him so that her naked back ground into the pebbles, sharp as broken crockery, and the dirt-covered roots which stuck out from the sod-like knots of rope. She rolled her head from side to side, her taffy-colored hair now streaked with dirt and threaded with bits of leaves and twigs, her eyes closed; her mouth, once red and demure, now bruised and swollen. Scraping her nails down his back, she heard his shirt rip into long ribbons and felt the warm moisture of his blood against her fingers.
He reached down and tore off the, thin mesh of her panties as easily as if he were brushing away a cobweb. Then he twisted himself around on top of her, dropping his face to the soft warm flesh of her thighs. She groaned and writhed beneath another violent attack she hadn't expected as she felt his fingers clawing at the tender lips of her cunt, slowly spreading them apart between her widespread legs. She tried to clamp them together in a sudden rush of terror, but he was too quick. His head dropped and the sudden wetness of his tantalizing lips locking onto her throbbing and exposed clitoris froze her body as it was. A sharp new sensation rippled through her and she felt all the tingling carnal passions which had built up throughout the years of frustration rushing up suddenly and without warning from her legs and belly, and gurgling from her mouth in an uncontrollable torrent of pleading cries.
"Ooooh, Gosh! Oooohhh! Aaaaaggghhh! Beeert! What are you doing to me!? She groaned over and over again without ceasing as she felt the tiny bud of her clitoris springing into a life that she never knew it possessed. Bert went on nibbling and sucking mercilessly at the delicate, little organ with the sudden crazed passion that overcame him. Ruby's head rolled from side to side on the hard, unyielding ground, matting her hair with tiny bits of leaves and dirt; but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now but the delicious rape of the mouth that was making wet sucking sounds down between her open and defenseless legs. Strange, muted and hazy thoughts of one summer day long time ago now drifted across her mind, a day she wanted to open her eyes and see if there were lazy white clouds above, but like now, she couldn't. There was nothing she could do but buck and churn beneath the probing tongue that was burning with sexual fire into her young and yet unplundered vagina, as wild memories of the sexual urges of her childhood came whirling through her mind.
And then.. when she thought it would never end, he twisted her body around again, dropping his heavily between her legs. He grasped her behind the knees and lifted her thighs high on either side of him, pausing only a moment to drop his pants to his knees.
Ruby was beside herself, she had never felt so open and ready in her life. Her pelvis rotated in small hungry circles as Bert knelt between her open and inviting thighs, holding her legs into the air. He smiled down at her, his eyes fixed on the hair-lined crotch that was red and palpitating in eager anticipation of what was to come.
"You're hot, baby ... ! I'm gonna like this!" He muttered.
"Bert!" she gasped urgently, her pelvis moving in larger circles now. "Fuck me! Fuck me or I'll die!"
Without hesitation, he pulled her under him, the softness of her buttocks scraping unnoticed along the roughness of the ground, and fell heavily down between her legs. His hand directed his huge throbbing cock to the wet, quivering lips of her cunt, pausing for the slightest of moments to part the thin, blonde pubic hair, and then plunging forward to rip without stopping through the thin, tight membrane of her virginity.
"Aaaaaaagggghhhh!" Ruby suddenly screamed, the hot, blinding pain searing deep in her belly. "Ooooohhhh! No! Stop! You're killing me! Oh, ... please ... please ... ! "
Her arms jerked up involuntarily and clung to him with all her strength as though this might drive the pain away. Her face was contorted and her eyes clenched tightly. She struggled once, but then her body stilled to ease the pain. She could feel the full length of the huge penis throbbing deep inside her womb, imbedded to the hilt. Tiny whimpers sifted from between her tightly closed lips as she lay quietly, adjusting to the new and strange invasion of her tight virginal pussy.
Bert did not move at first, but laid rigidly on top of her, feeling her warm blood trickling down his rock-hard prick. He was surprised at her virginity, which he didn't expect from the wild fervor with which she had engaged into the sex act, but he knew it would take a moment for the pain she was experiencing to subside. Then, then by hell he would give it to her like she'd never get it again. He had never had a virgin before and he wasn't going to let this one off so easy.
In a moment, Ruby made her first tentative movement. She rolled her buttocks slightly under him and a small, surprised gasp of pleasure escaped from between her teeth.
It didn't hurt! At least, not as much as she thought it would.
She had thought the pain would last much longer and had been afraid of it, but suddenly there was only a very bearable, slight bit of pain, which coupled with the strange, forbidden sensations coursing through her body until it all merged into one great mass of indescribable pleasure.
Ber moved his cock inside her.
"Ooooohhhh, yessss! Do it!" Ruby whimpered softly up into his ear, not ashamed of wanting it so badly.
He did it again, moving his throbbing member inside her palpitating cunt which closed around it like a tight-fitting glove.
"Oh Gosh, yesssss! Yesssss! That's it!" She hissed, her hips suddenly and slowly beginning to rotate beneath him. The tight, wet walls of her eager cunt contracted jealousy around the hardness of his cock as though they were frightened of losing it. He groaned as he felt the muscles deep inside her belly answering the pulsating throbs of his steel-hardened cock. He could no longer hold himself back and began a slow, teasing, grinding in and out motion between her wide-spread thighs. He could feel the tightness of her clasping flesh around him like soft warm butter, the walls of her cunt holding to him in animalistic desperation each time he withdrew his penis slowly before thrusting it forward again to sink the massive shaft of his cock deep back down inside her, rampaging her torn flesh with ev-er-increasing lust.
Her pelvis beneath him began a faster rotation now, her buttocks grinding and writhing down into the hardness of the ground with a sudden abandon that took him by surprise. Mewling sounds of passion and lust rolled from her lips in waves of sound that he could not understand but to which his body reacted in the age-old rhythm of sexual intercourse that was as old as man himself. He levered up on his toes and dropped his hands down under them to cup the full quivering mounds of her buttocks so that he could fuck deeper and deeper down into her.
"Aaaaaaagggghhhh! Ooooooohhhh! Bert! Lover! You're just great!" Ruby groaned and twisted her body like a tortured snake under this tormenting digging into the fresh wound flowering inside her. Thrusting her loins up at him as he ground deep into her to take the whole of his expanding cock far down inside the warm sheath of her pussy.
Ruby rocked in a dream world of wanton and uncontrolled lust under his pounding body. Never in all her brief life, not even with herself, had she experienced such sensations, nor felt the way she did now with this huge male hardness buried to the hilt inside her tender belly. She could feel the soft slap of his balls against the tightly clenched cheeks of her buttocks and the strength of his hands as they kneaded and tore at her tender flesh like the talons of a giant striking bird. She struggled like a demon to open her thighs wider, to take him deeper, but she could not His taut prick was sunk as far into her as it could go, but she wanted more.
"Fuck harder!! ! Fuck harder!" She pleaded and begged as she felt him begin to thrust his massive hardness into her with longer and longer strokes now. A strange dancing delight of lusty fire was building up far down in her quivering belly. It drove her churning body on and on in its wild quest for the delicious sensation that was building and building in every pore of her sweating body. Something was going to happen to her, something wild and wonderful, maybe as wild and as wonderful as what she had experienced after her own masturbatory ministrations, long ago, on that summer day.
And then it came!
Her muscles contracted tightly around his plunging cock and she cried out wildly thinking the end was here, but soon his strong rhythmic strokes set off another explosion of delight that she had never dreamed possible. Her buttocks rotated against the hardened earth like a helpless ship caught in the vicious waves of a driving storm. She arched her back like a bow, her head buffeting against the ground, her hair spread out like a golden fan, her full quivering breasts pointing to the sky, trembling and swirling in jerking circles as she quickened her movements to meet the mounting urgency she could feel pulsating through the head of his throbbing rod sunk so deeply inside her hungry vagina.
It was gentle at first, preceded by a soft, inhuman gurgle coming from deep inside his chest. And then ... then she felt it, also ... It was as though a giant explosion was ripping her belly apart. Hot white jets of his sperm erupted and flooded into her, filling her womb with a warmth and a sensation beyond all description. She could feel it racing around deep inside her as though the flood-gates of ecstasy had been thrown wide-open. At the same moment, she jerked her own legs uncontrollably out in the air on either side of his spasmodically grinding hips and a great flash of erotic fire leaped up inside her and exploded in the volcanic eruption of her own orgasm.
"Aaaaaahhhhh! Aaaaaaahhhh!" She screamed, her head turning from side to side, her hair beating the ground like a flaming whip. The muscles of her hips and belly contracted in rolling waves of spasm, the pulsating walls of her hot, sperm-filled pussy sucking the last drops from his still-spurting cock, until finally, weak and exhausted, he stopped and fell limply back onto the harsh ground.
They laid for some time, panting and gasping, the smell of her wet orgasm and the odor of the perspiration which coated their bodies like a light film of dew overpowering the fresh scent of the forest around them. Finally, Bert sat up and then helped her to her feet. With her torn panties, he wiped the dirt and blood from her back and hips. Then he got their suitcases from the car.
Without speaking, they changed their clothes, climbed back into the car and Bert drove on without uttering a word, exhausted by the frantic scene into which they had engaged so eagerly, only a few moments before.
3
Norkfold College wasn't exactly the ideal place to be when one wishes to take part in the exciting and sophisticated world of a big city. Once there, Ruby found out that Norkfold was rather far from New York City specially for those, like herself, who came from a small town where one could go almost any place walking, a two-hour trip to the big, swinging metropolis was considered long-distance traveling, until she got used to it. At first she had thought with utter disappointment that she had only exchanged Stetson City and its small-town pettiness for the less rustical and more sophisticated crummyness of Norkfold town, a town without personality of its own and as bouncy as an Abbey in Lent.
Decided to make the best out of the worst, Ruby didn't waste any time to mingle with the student population. And after a week of academic curriculum, the anxiously gregarious young girl had already made her own classified list of eligible young males, who were rated according to their physical appeal, reputation and availability for the eager expectations of the girl, whose desperate wishes to satisfy all her womanly desires had grown into a frantic lust for everything that in her life had been forbidden or kept very distant from herself.
Almost immediately after she arrived, her eye caught the tall, handsome figure of one of the school's most coveted young males: Eddie Roman, the guy almost every unattached female student hoped to attract.
Eddie was undoubtedly the image of a present-day young dandy contrary to the collegiate tradition of male popularity, Eddie was not a football hero. In fact, Eddie had never excelled in sports, nor in anything else in college. He was simply an utterly handsome fellow whose tall figure, slendered and shaped into a muscular living statue by his devotion to body-build mg, was crowned by an elongated, lean head over a massively strong neck, and topped with an abundant mop of lustrous, jet-black hair, usually combed in a studied disarray that left one or two shinny locks of hair falling over his forehead, giving him the air of a tough, virile bronco.
His eyes were huge and slightly slanting, a detail which gave him a wild, feline look, which sometimes seemed cruel and cold despite the intense richness of his magnificent deep-blue irises, heavily shadowed by a thick rim of long, black lashes.
Having kept-despite the brutal sex initiation she received on her was to school, by the harsh strang-er-much of her country-girl candor, and lacking any experience whatsoever in regards to the ways to handle intersex relations, Ruby never took the pain of concealing at all the powerful attraction that Eddie Roman exerted over her senses, and in his presence she obviously indulged in erotic fantasy. For his part, the foxy young man didn't fail to notice the devastating effect that his energetic, sensual self had for the curvaceous freshman who never hid the true nature of her attraction, most especially to the object of her feminine desires.
This had a strange, fresh attraction in the mind of Eddie Roman. Surely, the fact that a female would be sexually attracted toward him was nothing new to the handsome fellow. He was known to be a dare-devil swinger and a lady-killer of the highest quality. He was totally conscious of the attraction he exerted over the opposite sex and had even developed a conceited personality from the constant pampering he was subject to by the crowd of admiring females who dreamed with his personalized attention. However, he was used to seeing that girls, as a rule, went to greater lengths to conceal-usually without much success-the effects of his alluring presence in the lusty fumes of their youthful desires. That was what made Ruby seem so different to his eyes. She didn't seem to care a bit whether he'd notice or not. On the contrary, it looked as though she would want him, to know beyond any slight awareness, that she wanted him eagerly, and that he wanted him to the extent of the ultimate intimacy of sexual consummation.
Eddie's well-experienced eye immediately made the complete appraisal of Ruby's physical assets and found no major liability taxing her voluptuous appearance. His judgment was decidedly favorable and he decided to go forth and take the fruits of lust which were due to him. In his mind, for Ruby to behave in such manner, she surely must be either a nympho, an experienced pro, or in any event, a very hot crotched broad; or otherwise, be a very special person, sexually speaking ... He was definitively curious about her, and the origin of her boldness and savage sincerity, so uncommon among the female companions he has had along the line, so far, undoubtedly planted the seed of individual attraction deep within Eddie Roman's subconscious mind.
When he asked her for a date, in his smooth, crooning way of talking, he found that the fires of his sexual fantasy had lighted the flames of a slightly quivering anticipation that crept almost imperceptibly from his loins and traveled a pulsating journey of sexual allurement throughout the virile, muscled body of the handsome young swinger.
Eddie took Ruby to the "French Club," a small nightclub where, he said, the feature attraction of the show was a friend of his, Rose Owens, who was billed as Samantha Carter, "The Unique," After the show, he added, we can go backstage if you like, and meet the star of the show.
Ruby was pleased by the idea of actually being able to go behind the scenes and looked about her with interest as they sat at the bar, perched on high stools.
The place was small, consisting of a large rectangular bar with a scarlet curtained stage at one end, its floor on a level with the bar, and a few small tables scattered along the sides. The floor was carpeted with a thick, scarlet rug and three of the walls were entirely covered with mirrors while the fourth was draped with the same scarlet material which curtained the stage. The ceiling was dark blue, studded with stars which twinkled softly and afforded the only illumination in the room.
In the dim light, Ruby could see in the mirror Eddie and herself reflected back a dozen times, his rugged darkness contrasting strikingly with her own blondeness. On a small platform in front of the stage, a four piece combo was beating out a popular song. Eddie explained that when the show started, the platform sank down to the floor, permitting a clear view of the stage, and that the girls not only used the stage for their acts but also walked along the top of the bar.
Samantha's appearance was heralded by a roll of drums, the darkening of the overhead lights and a white spotlight shining on the curtains which slowly parted. And there was Samantha, dressed in a tight, black evening gown, looking like a black, sinuous mermaid for her dress was covered with many shiny sequins which glittered and sparkled under the spotlight like the multiple scales of an iridescent fish and hugged each luscious curve like a rubb-er-tight glove. Except for her arms, which were encased in long, mesh gloves, the dress covered her completely and was fastened at the neck by a narrow collar of sequins. On her head was a glistening, winged cap which came down over her ears and held back the long black hair which rippled almost to her waist. One hand on her thrust-out hip, the other holding a long cigarette-holder, she was completely motionless, a shimmering statue against the red drapes, the blackness of her costume relieved only by her white, red-nailed hands, her face, chalky in the light, and her black eyes and full red lips.
As the music softly throbbed, Samantha slowly moved her arm, took a drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke through her nostrils. She began to sing a torch song, her voice deep and husky, caressing each word and note, intimate and seductive. At first, she barely moved her body, but as the song became more passionate, she started to wave her shoulders and hips. Two long slashes of startling white flesh suddenly appeared; her dress was slit both from the collar to the waist and from the floor up to her thighs. With her eyes closed, her head and shoulders thrown back, swaying in time with the music, the slit widened to show the rising curves of her breasts, framed by the jet-blackness of her gown. The music swelled up in strong, rhythmic beats and Samantha glided languidly about the stage, her body undulating like a glittering, black serpent; her eyes staring brazenly at the audience through half-closed, heavy lids. Against the black inverted "V" of her skirt, her legs flickered in and out, their whiteness and nudity accentuated by the shimmering black material of her dress.
Then, as the spotlight changed to a soft rose color, she unfastened some hooks at her neck and waist and the dress suddenly fell off. There was an audible sigh escaping from the male throats gathered around. like a statue of pink alabaster, her skin glowed with the soft luster of a seashell's interior. Her breasts and sex were covered with narrow satin strips, their color matching so nearly the rosy hue of her skin that she seemed to be really nude, and it was only the long, pink fringe, hanging over the material, which betrayed the illusion. Swinging like myriads of moving fingers over the strong jut of her pubic mound and over the plump orbs of her haunches, their ends caressed her lush thighs, the inner sides of which softly rubbed together as she rolled her hips in large circles and slowly revolved around the stage.
Living the throbbing, sensual beat of the music, her body undulated suggestively, lewdly, her arms raised above her head, entwining and parting with the flowing movements of an Oriental dancer; her torso weaving in circles, her entire body seemed taut with sexual tension, but at the same time relaxed and languorous. The curtains of the rosy fringe swayed like the tentacles of a pink jelly-fish, drawing attention to the proud, pointed breasts, arched high, and to the hidden center of her sex, also....
As the spotlight followed her, bathing her in a pink sea of light, she sauntered slowly onto the bar and walked along its top. Leisurely she moved, gracefully and deliberately, her shoulders, breasts and hips pulsating in time with the music. Her heels clicked on the hard wood and as she passed, a pungent scent of musky perfume came from her body. Looking upward, following the long sweep of her legs which widened and met at the apex of her sex, one could see a faint film of sweat which coated her body like a slight, enervating dew.
When she had circled the bar and returned to the stage, she put her hands behind her. As she brought them forward again, she was holding the two satin strips which she tossed to the side negligently. Her breasts and the lower side of her belly were now covered only by the pink fringe. Her movements became more intense and erotic, and the thin curtains swayed to and fro as she threw her torso into violent contortions, permitting glimpses of the firm twin arcs of her breasts, tipped with hard rosy buds and the large pad of her sex. covered only by a G-string.
The spotlight dimmed, shadowing even more deeply the tapering underslope of her breasts,, moulding more richly the turning curves of her body and legs, accentuating the glistening, pink highlights on her thrusting breasts, belly and swirling buttocks. Her legs spread wide, she bent backwards, her long, black hair sweeping the floor while she swayed her torso so that the fringe fell back and one could see only the long inverted "V" of her legs, climaxing at the wide-open mat of her widespread crotch, as large as a hand and tantalizingly Inviting in its open mistery. Above it, her breasts, completely nude now, pointed upward like two cones of strawberry ice-cream topped by two wild red strawberries.
When she stood up again, she moved onto the bar and once more circled it, rolling her hips, thrusting out her pelvis, contorting her torso into erotic positions until her entire body seemed to be vibrating with sexual passion. With her heavy-lidded eyes, sensual and inviting, her dark hair floating behind her, her tongue sliding over her wet, red lips, her hands moved sensuously down over her breasts, caressed the swell of her hips and slipped up her thighs to her mound, which she slowly and suggestively rubbed.
Once back on the stage, she quickly tore off the fringes and stood, posed for a few movements, under the rosy spotlight, entirely nude except for the almost imperceptible G-string. Then she ran off the stage. The curtains closed and the house lights came on again.
4
Ruby was still staring wide-eyed at the closed curtains, her mouth partly open, when she felt Eddie's arm around her waist.
"Well, baby, that's Samantha. How do you like her, honey-bunch?" He asked softly, a raucous note in his voice.
"She's terrific! I've never seen anyone like her before!" Ruby admitted, her voice betraying her excitement.
She felt even more excited, thinking that this was utter sophistication when the beautiful Samantha, having changed into a normal evening gown, came over directly to where they were seated and placed a friendly arm around Eddie's shoulders.
"Ruby, I'd like you to meet my sister, Samantha," the young man said.
What an interesting person this Eddie was, Ruby thought. And to have such a sister! Meanwhile, Eddie was whispering into Samantha's ear and she nodded, taking out from her little purse a key and slipping it to him.
"Here, Ruby, that's all arranged, let's leave this place," Eddie said, leading the girl out after a brief goodbye to Samantha.
A few minutes later, they were in the stripper's apartment.
"Here, baby, try one of these." Eddie snapped the lid of his cigarette case that he had taken from the inside pocket of his jacket. Inside laid several cigarettes, normal-looking except that they were much thinner, almost half as slim as a regular one.
She picked one out and looked at it curiously.
"What funny cigarettes. What are they?" She asked.
"Joints." Eddie replied in a casual tone. "Joints?" She asked, not quite understanding. "Yeah, Pot." He replied amusedly. "Pot? What's Pot?" She insisted, still not understanding.
"Marijuana, Baby. Don't you know what's that? Marijuana? A grass that one smokes ... And it feels great after you do it ... ? Try it, Baby. Even if you don't know what it is. You'll see that it's the greatest." He urged her smilingly.
"Marijuana? You mean ... dope?" Ruby's mind began to clear out the mist.
Eddie laughed. "Yeah, Baby. If you wanna call it like that I guess it's up to you. I won't fight it. That's the way squares call it. It makes it sound like something terrible ... Brrrrr!" He feigned a fearful tremor with his body, then roared with self-mocking laughter. "Okay, honey. Call it the way you like. Dirty dope if you want. It won't change a puff. It's the greatest thing ever. Believe you me ... Come on, lov-er-girl, be a sport and try one of these, will you. . . ? " He struck a match and lit two of his ultra-slender cigarettes; one for Ruby and the other one for himself.
She reluctantly took a drag. "They're sort of sweet," she exclaimed, testing them with her tongue.
"Yeah, but you've got to draw it in really. like this." Eddie laid back, his eyes closed, and took a huge drag, holding it down for a long time.
Ruby laid back and imitated him. Soon her cheeks grew warm and her eyes felt strange; she closed them and took another drag, holding it down as long as she could. With this, her first marijuana cigarette, she at first was slightly nauseated, but then the sensation picked her up and carried her away. Lying down on the bed. she felt as though her body was swirling around in circles, that it was floating lightly above the bed, and that she would be blown away if she didn't hang on to something.
Frightened, she cried out, "Eddie, please, Eddie, hang on to me!" Her nerves sensitized to a keen edge, the touch of his hand pierced through her like a needly, sharply but slowly, as though the impulse of his touch leaped from nerve to nerve.
Ruby was aware of her body in a way she had never been before; her mind and brain scarcely seemed to function; she felt entirely liberated and uninhibited, totally unchained from her thoughts and all ordinary distraction. Time was slowed down, and just as every note of the music seemed to go in one ear and be stretched out in a spiraling circle to infinity before the next one followed it, so Ruby could feel and enjoy each tingling nerve, each moving muscle.
At first, they had rolled on the bed, laughing and giggling like children, and then they began to undress, eager to slip away to a dream-land of lust in slow-motion.
He paused, watching her, hLs eyes narrowed, following the golden curves of her body as she took off the jacket and skirt. She stood before him, the firm upper swell of her breasts protruding out above the black mesh of the half-brassiere, the nipples swollen and rouged. On her loins the small patch of silk lay like a painted black leaf, accentuating the tawny tan of her full hips and thighs. She turned around, her haunches rotating slowly, their orbs rising and falling, a thin dew of perfume still lingering on the small of the back and filming the downy hair which traced a pale line from her navel to her mound. Her back to him, she tossed back her hair and arched her breasts, watching him in the mirror, as he stared at her, holding his breath. Their eyes met in the mirror and as he started for her, she turned and leaped toward him, scissoring his waist with her bare legs and flinging her arms around his neck. His hands under her buttocks, holding her against him he buried his head in her chest and sucked the nipple of her breasts into his mouth. They fell over onto the floor, tipping over a chair, their limbs and bodies writhing on the floor amongst the scattered costumes and spilled powder.
He ripped off her G-string with one quick jerk of his strong, lean hands and at the same time she heard the harsh metal grate of his zipper ripping down the front of his trousers. Pinioning her on the hard, wooden floor with his arms, he insinuated his pulsating cock between the warm, flowing lips of her tight, already throbbing vagina. Then without halting for a moment stabbed upwards.
"Ooooooooohhhhh," Ruby cringed before his sudden entry as she felt his hard, male flesh slithering deep up inside her. He penetrated her so deeply on the first thrust that their short pubic hair twisted and tangled together as he ground his pelvis tightly down into her loins. The soft skin of his testicles brushed teasingly against the now widely exposed lips of her soft sensitive anus nestled just below their wet coupling. Without waiting he began sliding in and out of her with long, desperate thrusts. She arched her back, unable to hold herself back. Her blood pounded through her veins like hot, molten lead and she could feel every tiny ripple of skin around his warm, thrusting penis as it raced madly in and out between her wide-stretched legs. She jerked her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, her heels beating on the hollowing cheeks of his buttocks like a drum. And then, almost as suddenly as it began, she began a roll-er-coaster of orgasm-as one right after another until she felt his cock begin jerking deep down inside her womb and the warm hot spurts of his sperm flooded inside her with the hard driving force of his spending passion.
"Gosh, Ruby, that was beautiful!" He gasped into her ear, his body still quivering on top of her. Then he was still.
After a few minutes he breathed deeply without saying a word and dismounted her. She lay on the floor still gasping and moaning softly from the utter abandon and power of her quick orgiastic releases. She opened her eyes slightly and watched him as he quickly undressed and strode over to the dressing table. He picked up a large jar of cold cream and returned to kneel down beside her on the floor.
He ripped off her brassiere and began spreading large globes of the cool sweet-smelling mess over her entire body from head to toe. Then he covered himself with it and lay down beside her. His arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her over on top of him, her back against his chest, her taut, full breasts pointing straight up to the ceiling. He began rubbing the cream over her body, his hands smoothing its thickness over her shoulders, all around the hard throbbing nipples of her tits, and down over her belly and thighs. His teasing fingers were almost driving Ruby crazy and her body squirmed uncontrollably on top of him, sliding in the thick coat of cold cream as though she were some wet, slippery eel he was trying to subdue. His hands halted at the vee of her loins and he gently pulled her thighs apart. Ruby, groaned and let them limply slide open, her feet falling to the floor on either side of his. Then his fingers massaged slowly between her legs, pulling at the full, throbbing lips surrounding her vagina and gently easing them open. He coated the soft, hidden flanges of wet flesh heavily with the smooth slippery cream and then slowly inserted his middle finger inside to massage well the pink, inner walls. She moaned from the weird sensations coursing through her and felt the hardness of his cock pressing up against the fleshy crevice of her buttocks jerk slightly into a beginning erection.
The lust mounted in her with each moment she felt his penis growing against her until finally she could stand the tantalizing ministrations to her body no longer. She squirmed around on top of him and straddled his upper thighs, her knees slithering up onto the floor on either side of his hips. Her wet, cream-covered vagina was poised directly above his nowfullyerect penis and, reaching down between their slippery bodies, she directed the huge, rounded head straight into the lips of her waiting vagina. She didn't lower her buttocks immediately but let it prod up between her wide-open loins for a moment, at the same time reaching behind her with both hands to pull the flanges of her pulsating pussy a little wider apart to allow him greater access. She felt him jerk up towards her and then with a tight, gasping groan she screwed her buttocks hard down against his loins taking the whole of his rigid rock-hard cock deep up in her belly.
"Ooooooohhhhh, Eddie! Gosh, ooooohhhh, Eddie, Eddie!! ! ! " The soft, rounded cheeks of her ass smacked down against the up-thrusting pelvis and she felt the giant, pulsating head smash into her cervix like the end of a hard, cruel, battering ram. A flash of blue raced through her brain at the unexpected depths he reached from the position she was in. There was nothing to prevent his total entrance into her wide-open cunt and she groaned like an ancient captive impaled on the sharp-pointed spear of a Phillistine warrior.
"Gosh baby, you're tight, tight, very tight! Oh, Gosh, how tight you are honey-bunch!" He panted beneath her pained assault and then began a slow grinding up into her. His hips rotated slowly around on the floor, sending the head of his cock into great swirling circles deep up into her belly. Ruby groaned, her mouth hanging open in helpless acceptance, her eyes bulging wide until suddenly the whole of her loins became accustomed to the strange, deep invasion that seemed as though it would gouge the very intestines from her. Finally, she grunted and the deep burning passion within her, kindled more by the sudden pain than anything, took hold of her body. She moved slowly at first and then began riding his body like a racing jockey on a wildly sprinting horse. Her pelvis slid uncontrollably in wide, harsh circles against his greased hips, her breasts and belly slipping back and forth over his chest. like a golden, buttered nymph she rode him until suddenly she felt it rising again inside her. The hot, burning sensation of lust that had to be drowned, drowned in the hot, swirling liquid of the orgasm she could feel bursting upon her. Eddie, beneath her churning body, thrust like a madman as far up into her as he could go with each downward stroke of her buttocks, their creamed bodies slithering hotly together, the sound blending with the wet sucking noise of the lewd coupling of their genitals as they both raced for a fulfillment seconds away. Until it finally came!
"Eddie! Eddie! Oh, Eddie, I'm cumming! My darling boy! Oh, Eddie, my man. my big hunk of a man, I'm cumming! I'm cuuuummmmmmmgggg!! ! " Ruby said, exploding with ecstasy.
Hot flashes of red and yellow exploded in her brain as she felt the whole of her white, quivering belly erupt like a thousand Roman candles around the hard driving shaft of flesh skewering up into her humping body. At the same time, she heard a harsh guttural cry beneath her and she felt his cock begin pumping like a fire hose hot jets of his thick, warm sperm far up into her cunt. Their intermingling juices poured out the tightly clasped lips of her vagina and ran in thin, pearly rivulets down his still spurting rod and disappeared as it churned into the cold-cream covering their genitals below by their still wildly sliding bodies. Its musky scent mingled with the sweet smell of the cream, the flowery fragrance of the powder and perfume with the animal odor of male and female sweat merged together, also.
5
It was snowing heavily outside. Ruby hailed a cab, climbed inside, gave the driver the address of Professor's Gwynn's apartment and drove off to meet the distinguished-looking History professor with whom she had been having and affair for quite a while already.
Ruby sank back against the cushions as the dust-smelling taxi raced forward into the night. "Well," She thought matt-er-of-factly," if Eddie wasn't interested any longer about her, she wouldn't be about him, either ... " Then her thoughts drifted to the huge, virile figure of Richard Gwynn, the man who had been teaching her Oriental History in class during the day, and gave her private lessons of sexual maneuvers during the nights they spent together making frantic love in his town-apartment. Now Ruby felt she wanted another joint, but didn't dare to light one up right there in the taxi. Then her mind went back to the massive, taut figure of her presently steady, mature lov-er-teacher.
Although she had been seeing Richard regularly for the last three months or so, she was never sure of exactly what kind of mood she would find him in. She found him rather mysterious, something like the History of the enigmatic Orient he taught to her class in College.
A well-known historian and expert critic in Oriental Art, Dr. Richard E. Gwynn was a highly respected scholar, a well-reputed educator, a fantastically learned Orientalist and probably many things more that Ruby ignored about him. All she knew was that the list of his credits was as long as they make them. He enjoyed an excellent reputation in the society of those sophisticated New Yorkers who have gourmet tastes, a heavy-scheduled social life, and the touch of intellectual artificiality of the new wave of still-quite-young collegians, always tainted by that air of effeminacy which is found so "chic" and elegant among themselves. He was a member of several civic institutions, literary and artistic societies as well as many other concerns of the same sort, where he was very much appreciated and enjoyed very much deference and consideration from the fellow members. Apart from all that, Richard Gwynn was also a man of very open-minded sex appetites ... The truth was that Richard lived on both sides of the "moral street," the shady as well as the sunny one, all at the same time. There were rumors that he'd often indulged in lewd sexual affairs with both male or female students, depending on his mood ... He had a wife and a family at his home in Yonkers, but he always kept an apartment in the city as well, in order to carry out his ludicrous "escapades."
Ruby neither liked him nor disliked him in particular. But before, in the beginning of her college days, when she was a new girl in town, and was eagerly looking for thrilling adventures, the idea of having an affair of that sort with one of her instructors had appealed enormously to her imagination. Richard was not too old, just in his mid-forties, and was still quite a handsome, well-built and very masculine-looking fellow, despite the legends that ran throughout the commentaries of a chosen few in college, which had linked him with some of his young male students who had subtly exchanged their manhood, by having engaged in a sexual intercourse with another man, for his "helping hand" while correcting their finals. In any case, Richard had a very elegant and distinguished aspect, with his angular face and polished dark hair ornated by two patches of silver over his intellectual temples. This mature aspect of his had given Ruby the wild idea that, in matters of sex and wanton pleasure, Richard had to be a man of great experience and competence, as in anything else.
"Ruby, my child, you look beautiful!" Richard said, when he opened the door to her. "Well, it's true you're always beautiful!" He smiled warmly at the attractive young girl who stood in front of him at the foyer.
Richard took both her hands in his, drew her out of the foyer and into an intimate-looking den, all furnished in a richly elaborate style of Oriental inspiration. The place was small, but so lusciously cushioned and so richly decorated with costly silks and furry velvets that the small locale, by itself, seemed to exude a strange vapor, of sexuality. Looking at its furnishings, only, one could realize what was the use given and intended for it to have. It was simply made to contain the tightly entwined and violently contorting figures of two bodies tightly locked in a passionate embrace of lust.
Once there, in the intimate, exciting little chamber, Richard kissed her gently on her cheeks, then held her away, with his hands over each arm, as he contemplated her admiringly. "Fantastic! You are each day becoming more and more desirable, Ruby . . .You are a magnificently endowed young woman . . .You're lovely ... ! " On the shoulders of her heavy winter coat and all over her golden mane of hair, large flakes of white snow still rested lightly, sparking in the strange, flowing light of the, Oriental lamps. "You look like you're not real ... So, so beautiful!" He chanted softly, getting his lips closer to her ear, and Ruby felt the soft, warm wind of his breath caressing the lobe of her ear with each word he exhaled tenderly at her.
Ruby smiled at him sweetly, even though his sentimentality and sugary compliments often made her feel like laughing right in his face-a thin, angulous face. But then, he was a huge, massive man, tall and compact, well preserved for his age and soberly elegant in his mature good looks.
"Yeah," Eddie had said, "he keeps his weight down by skipping back and forth from one sex to another."
As Richard took off her coat, he looked approvingly at the long-sleeved green wool dress, which fitted her tightly, moulding her breasts and hips, its severity relieved only by the deep cut neckline through which her neck and shoulders gleamed suggestively. "Looks wonderful on you, dearest. Have you got everything on?" He asked.
Ruby nodded. They had been shopping and Richard had bought her not only that dress, but new shoes, lingerie and a tight waist.-cincher. She kicked her shoes off and curled up in an armchair, talking to him while he mixed drinks for the two of them. "A quiet evening at home, with fireplace and slippers," she thought. "Ugh!"
When they went out together, she always dressed in her most sophisticated gowns, but she knew he liked her to be informal when they were alone together. "I want you to look as though you lived in a sealed block of ice when there are other people around," he had said. "But when we're alone, I like to know I've got a woman who's warm like a real, living human being, I hope you understand, Ruby ... "
He brought her a drink and sat down on the couch, beside her.
"Ruby," he said, "I hate to bring the subject up again, but won't you reconsider moving into an apartment? I've found a real dandy one not far from here ... "
"Here we go again," she thought to herself. "Oh, no Richard!" Then she pouted, "Not again! Really, I'm sorry, but I like this arrangement just as it is. We've already discussed this often enough."
"I can give you a lot more than the little I'm giving you now, Ruby. I want to make you happy, take care of you, love you, keep you near me," Richard said eagerly, but in a low voice. "My wife will never know, if you are afraid of having some unpleasantness on that part ... "
"I know. But I don't want to settle own yet. Maybe later. Let's not argue, darling." She retorted wearily, interrupting his sale-pitch.
"Okay, Ruby, we'll have it your way." He sighed with docility.
As he talked on, she appeared to be listening intently, but her thoughts were far away. Until they got into bed, Richard's conversation, as he droned in a gruff voice about things she was totally uninterested in, completely bored her.
He went over to the portable bar to get another drink and paused near her chair. She could feel him standing behind her, gazing down at the top of her head. He leaned over. She tilted her head to look up at him. He was staring down the deep "vee" of her plunging neckline to where her breasts nestled snuggly under the green wool. She took a deep breath and threw her chest out so the twin mounds arched under the material like soft, green hills. She reached up to draw his mouth down to hers. As they kissed, his hands slid over her chest, down to her waist and up again along the firm slats of her ribs until they found the opening of her neckline and crept under to the warm, pliant dough of her breasts.
"Take your dress off," he whispered.
As he watched in silent fascination, Ruby slipped the dress over her head and stood before him, her legs drawn wide apart, clad only in long black stockings and the black waist-cincher. Extremely tight, it nipped her waist in like an hour-glass; above, it widened upward like a black heart into a half-cut brassiere which, supporting only the underpaid of her breasts, cupped them so they lay like two golden moons, high and full; below, it opened outward until just below the curve of her belly and the top of her swelling buttocks. Lying as closely as a second skin, a skin of satin and black lace, it made her buttocks bulge like two large, plump apples, toasted a golden tan by the sun. Framed by the long, parallel lines of the garters which stretched down to meet the silky, black sheaths of her stockings, the curve of her mound seemed even more prominent, her cunt covered by fine, crisp curls, seemed more naked and mysterious than ever.
When she turned and walked out of the room, her round thighs brushing hotly against each other, she could feel his eyes hungrily following her sensuous movements; and when she returned, she knew he was ready to take her. He had already undressed and was waiting for her, his clothes in a heap on the floor, his body tense, his impatience revealed by his full throbbing erection. She walked toward him, her soft, silky hair swaying down her back; her full, rounded breasts, resting lightly in the half cups of her brassiere.
When she had walked to him, he put his hands on her shoulders without saying a word and pushed her down so she was kneeling on the floor before him. She knew he needed this, this paying of the ultimate homage to him before he made love to her. This was his way of always reminding her that she was his woman, almost like a thing that was his for him to do with as he wished. She had never protested, but somehow she found it strangely disturbing to feel dominated and even humiliated in this way, as though she were some pet dog, or something too inferior and low to be treated as a human being, such as he was.
His hardened cock was directly in front of her face, and without otherwise touching him, she began to slowly lick the underside of it, at first running her tongue wetly all around the hard, throbbing gland with her tongue. A few droplets of thick, sticky cum oozed from the tiny opening. As he moaned softly above her head, she took the heart-shaped, smooth-fleshed end of his cock full into the warm moistness of her mouth, and her lips were clamped firmly around it. She reached around behind him, upping his hard, white buttocks and pulled him toward her, feeling the full, cum lubricated rod of flesh slide deeper between her teeth, her tongue running in hot, moist circles over its smooth surface.
Ruby squirmed her own buttocks down against her own heel that was insinuated up tightly between the soft, globular moons. She could feel her own wetness beginning there as it always did when she felt his excitement rising in the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. She increased the movements of her head until it was bobbing in front of him like a balloon tossed about by the wind. Her hot, moist tongue swirled faster and faster around his still hardening cock until she knew he was almost ready to erupt deep in her mouth, in long gurgling jets of steaming cum.
But, this time it was different. He wanted something else from her now, and he suddenly reached down and jerked her body away from her slavish task. His penis slipped from between her protesting lips with a slight sucking noise as the pressure was released against it and he half-pushed, half-dragged her to the overstuffed chair by the couch.
"Kneel on the arms," he said, his voice rushed from the near orgasm he had almost had inside her mouth.
She quickly spread her legs and climbed over the chair, balancing her bent knees on the ends of the arms and letting her head and torso fall downwards toward the seat. Her full, ripe buttocks were thrust upward, bulging, soft and pushed outward by the tight girdle he had not wanted her to remove yet. Her moist, wide-spread crevice, breaking the two flaccid, white mounds curved down, lined with soft, curly fleece and broken only by the dark, puckered entrance to her anus. With the top of her head went down into the seat of the chair, she looked back through the wide-spread arch of her thighs and saw him standing behind her, not touching her.
Suddenly, she felt two slaps, one on each cheek of her buttocks; so sharp and stinging that she gasped with pain. Although her body quivered with the shock, she retained her position and waited tensely for the next blow. Instead, she unexpectedly felt the light, gentle pressure of his lips kissing the bright pink imprints which burned and tingled on her behind.
Just as she was beginning to relax, however, he slapped her again, this time so hard that her head was crushed ,up against the back of the chair and tears came to her eyes. Before she had time to recover, his stinging slaps fell upon her again and she writhed' and trembled, then began to sob violently. But he murmured some words soothingly and lightly caressed her quivering buttocks with his cool, soothing hands; until she thought he was through tormenting her and stopped crying and began to purr softly with pleasure.
Richard shuffled his position behind her, and Ruby felt the hot moisture of his lips against the tender, wounded flesh of her behind. His warm, wet tongue licked up the length of the widely-split crevice between her thighs, pausing at the small, crinkled hole of her anus entrance to thrust and tease at it for a few short moments.
"Oooooohhhh!" she moaned at the lewd tickling sensations coursing through her. And expecting that he would now take her, she moved back on the chair, thrusting her hips to present them more fully, then rotated tl .n slowly and teasingly under his hands and around the shallow impalement of his tongue probing at her anus. He drew back, but instead of the pre a e of his penis into her, she grunted at a further series of painful slaps, then his kisses came back again; and the hard blows, also, all in quick succession ... She crouched, now cowering on the arms of the chair, crying with agony and pleasure, gasping and choking on the salty flow of tears that dripped from her eyes down onto the seat. Her whole body was tense and trembling, her gaze directed back between her legs to watch him.
"Ruby, darling," she heard him croon gently. "I've always wanted to fuck you in the ass ... Now, I'm going to do it"
"Oh, no, Richard, please!" She whimpered, a sudden feeling of complete helplessness coming over her. "Please, Richard, darling ... ! You know how it hurts ... It'll hurt!"
"No, it won't, my darling," he crooned on softly, an almost impatient tone in his voice. "I'll do it gently."
And through the wet veil of tears covering her eyes, Ruby saw his thighs moving forward slightly until the huge, throbbing head of his cock was pressed tightly between the cheeks of her ass. She automatically tightened her buttocks in a hopeless attempt to keep him from entering her there, but his thumbs, placed on either side of her anus pressed harshly outward and opened the whole of her back passage to the mercy of his unnatural desire. He pressed the slippery, well-lubricated head of his cock tightly against the tiny, puckered entrance and pressed forward, gently at first, but. . .
"Aaaaaaagggghhhh!" Ruby screamed as she suddenly felt the tight, unyielding muscles of her anus being forced slowly outward by the strength of his relentless pressure. Her face contorted tightly in pain and she groaned like a wounded animal down into the cushion of the chair, her scream muffled and desperate as though she were being impaled on the end of a giant spear shaft.
There was a slight pop as the tight outer ring of the anus suddenly gave way and the head of his throbbing member slipped inside. She groaned again and then the momentary pain of his initial entry passed and her rectum relaxed and opened to receive him. He grunted behind her as her tight, unused flesh clamped around his cock like a vice but did not ease off on the pressure he was exerting against it. He jerked forward with short, hard strokes, digging deeper and deeper into her belly until Ruby's whole behind felt as though stretched and distended beyond all hope of ever recovering, back to its normal shape.
As Richard leaned forward and pushed his thick member one millimeter deeper, Ruby felt as though all her insides were being pushed up hard into her throat and there was no way in the world she could escape the cruel and unrelenting instrument drilling skewering its way deep into her intimate bowels. His hands curved around under her trembling belly and she could feel his fingers pulling the hot, wet lips of her cunt open beneath her. She thrust forward with his fingers, sinking three of them deep up inside her. She moaned again, her loins feeling completely filled with the hard, thick rod tunneling into her rectum from behind and his probing fingers sunk deep into her vagina.
There was a sudden gasp coming from his lips and she felt his pelvis smack hard into the round, flaccid cheeks of her buttocks, pushing them up and out. She whimpered and felt her whole body jerk and writhe for a moment in protest and then relax in helpless acceptance as the whole shaft of his pulsating cock laid buried deep in the intimate confines of her widely-stretched rectum. He stood still for a moment to give her time to adjust to the unnatural and painful invasion of her back passage and then began a series of slow, short strokes-in and out of her,-his fingers probing deep into her cunt and keeping the time with his cock gliding smoothly in and out of her rectum.
And then, to Ruby's surprise, the thick driving rod and the searching cares of his fingers thrust into her vagina soon aroused her in a strange, masochistic way and she began eagerly rocking her hips in the air behind her, propelled by a suddenly mounting urgency of her own passion. She could feel the old familiar fire building again deep inside her belly and she rocked and rotated wildly beneath him, the round creamy magnificence of her buttocks hollowing and clenching around the hardness of his cock with each hard, brutal stroke he rammed into her. She could hear him chuckling behind her in lewd delight, as he watched his thick rod of flesh disappearing deep down inside the smooth hairless mouth of her rectum and then gasping crazily to himself as he jerked it out again and the tight pink flesh flowed with it with a wet sucking noise, clasping to it as though it did not want to let go.
His naked lust incited her more and she began to move with earnest desire now, the licking flames of her own passion almost ready to erupt. She could feel he was close to cumming. She could feel him growing inside her and stretching the already pulsating walls of her rectum wider and wider until she thought she could not stand the strange, bizarre pain and pleasure another moment more. Her eyes were dilated and bulged wide as she humped beneath him. The tightness of her ass-hole clasping and unclasping around his cock like a sucking fish as he fucked into her now with all his lustful strength filled her with a wild passion threatening to erupt at any moment in cascading torrents of pleasure.
And then it came! Finally and momentously!!
Just as the rising tide of her own passion spilled out deep inside her, she could feel the hot warm spurts of his sperm emptying itself deep, deep inside her rectum until it felt as though he were filling her whole body with the hot sticky fluid. Her full, rounded breasts dancing beneath her kneeling form hardened, as though he had broken through her belly and was pouring his cum right into them. She could taste it on the end of her tongue as she swirled it around lasciviously inside her mouth, savoring with delight the delicious, pungent taste his engorged penis had left in it. She heard him cry out behind her, and his thick, pulsating member spurted one last viscous jet of hot sperm deep into her rectum, and, with a wild cry of ecstasy, her whole body contracted with the final burst of her own orgasm.
"Richard! Richard, darling!" She cried out madly. "Give it to me, give it to me good! Ooooohhhh! Yes ssssss! That's it, baby! That's it! I'm cumming I'm cummiiiiiiing!"
Her eyes closed, she collapsed into the chair as he withdrew his cock with a wet sucking noise, as though he were pulling a limp body from quicksand. A thin string of sperm followed the tread tip of his satiated cock, still lewdly connecting it to the wide-stretched hole of her rectum, a lewd reminder of the bizarre coupling they had just gone through.
Ruby laid in a limp heap over the chair, unable to move. Pain radiated deliciously from her recently violated back passage. Richard reached down with his arms, picked her up and carried her into the bedroom where he laid her silently on the bed. The sheets were cool on her still tender buttocks. He quietly unzipped the tight girdle and slipped it off her body. The mattress sank as he laid down beside her. Ruby turned toward him, her mouth half open, her lips still wet, and waited for his kisses, which didn't come.
When she awoke the next morning, Richard had already left.
6
Coming out of a Sociology class, Ruby noticed there was a notice of employment posted on the school's Bulletin Board. It mentioned a part-time job right there in the college campus, at the Dean's office. The house hours it required fitted perfectly with her own academic schedule. A tiny spark of hope began to flicker in Ruby's hart. "If I could get that job," she thought, "I could start saving to rent a place of my own and get out of the school dorm. I hate their restrictions and it'll be just great not to have to rush one's date because one has to arrive at a certain hour or else get involved in a stupid argument with that bitch of the dorm, housemother ... ! " She gave a quick glance at her wrist watch. "It's late now ... Maybe I should wait 'till tomorrow ... " But the pangs of her eagerness and youthful anticipation were stronger than her and Ruby decided to walk over to the office. "I have nothing to lose. Maybe there's someone there still ... These people work until late in the evenings sometimes; I'll better try now or else tomorrow I may find the place crawling with applicants ... ! "
She walked decidedly through the labyrinth of corridors running inside the many buildings of the college complex, connecting one another. The halls were empty and filled with the austere silence of old buildings, at this hour of the night. All the classes had been finished for the day and everybody was gone already.
When she saw the glass-paneled door of the Dean's office, a hopeful smile brightened the young girl's face; there was light in the room, which meant that someone was still inside. Maybe she was lucky and someone was working late, after all, and she would be able to make the first application for the job.
Ruby went through the door without even bothering to knock. The Dean's outer office was quiet and the usual frantic activity that was seen there during the day was missing; all the desks were empty. "Maybe Dean Jensen himself is at his office." Ruby thought hopefully.
She stood at the door a few moments, hesitating if she should go ahead and knock at the Dean's office or leave the matter for the day after. She looked around to see if there was someone else still there who could help her without having to bother Dean Jensen at this late hour. like every other student at Norkfold, Ruby was well aware of Dean Jensen's irascible temper and that was something with which she didn't care to tamper.
At that moment a young man, mumbling a popular tune and holding a bunch of papers in his hands emerged from behind a tall book case: it was Fred Sherman, a student she knew from her Sociology class.
"Hi, Fred!" Ruby said cheerfully, since the young man was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had hardly noticed her presence there. "What on earth are you doing here at this hour?"
"Hey! Ruby Antrim!" Fred exclaimed with surprised, startled by the girl's unexpected presence. "What the heck are you doing here! I should say ... ! " He walked toward her. "Don't tell me you're having an affair with Dean Jensen! I thought you had a better taste!" He teased her.
"Yeah, I would say I do!" Ruby laughed. "No, it isn't Dean Jensen's charm, but the job offer on the Bulletin Board ... " She explained. "Did you come for that job too, Fred?" She asked rather grimly.
"Heavens, no!" The young man replied. "I wouldn't work for Dean Jensen on a steady basis for all the gold in the world!"
"Don't tell me he's that bad!" She advanced.
"Worst! Believe me, Ruby, if you know what's best for you, don't ask for any job here. I've gotten to suspect that this man is a cannibal!" He jested.
"A cannibal? Dean Jensen, you mean?! " Ruby cheered. "Fred, you're crazy!"
"Seriously!" He insisted with mocking seriousness. "You know why they want a girl to work here?
Because he ate the one who was here before!" I'm telling you, get out of here before it's too late."
"And how come he hadn't eaten you?" Ruby followed Fred's jesting. "You certainly have plenty of meat to offer a cannibal!" She added, noticing Fred's plump chubbiness.
"Me? Not a chance!" Fred shook his head. "I'm not tender enough and he's got no teeth!" He roared with laughter at his own words. Then, he eyed Ruby's curvaceous figure with an appraising glance. "He-likes a nice tender chicken dish whose got nice, soft meat in the proper places. He's a gourmet, and that's why I'm telling you that you should beware of his hawk claws." He glided his eyes all over Ruby's shapely figure with sensuous admiration, as his jesting smile vanished softly from his lips, giving way to a warm, lusty look.
Ruby noticed Fred's reaction to her womanly assets and felt complimented in her female vanity. To give him a panoramic view of her luscious self, Ruby walked over to Dean's Jensen's office through the door that Fred had left ajar.
"So, this is the lion's den ... eh?" She said, walking over to the huge, empty desk. "Incidentally, how come you're here alone and at this hour?" Ruby sat at the big swivel chair. "I'll be the Dean now ... ! " What do you think of the change?" She teased.
"I'm doing some paper work for Dean Jensen, on a temporary basis ... " Fred replied.
He sat on the edge of the desk, laid down the papers and put his hand on her leg.
"On second thoughts, maybe I'll take that job."
He said. "With you as a Dean maybe I can marry the Dean instead of his daughter, and get my degree in less time and with less effort."
"What a presumption, Sir!" Ruby said with mock horror. "Do you imagine I'd marry a mere freshman?"
"In that case," He hastened to reply, "I guess I'll have to be the Dean, instead. And, as you may know, one of the privileges of being a Dean is the right to kiss the female students." Running his hand up her leg, he stood up and scooped her neatly into his arms. She gave a little shriek which turned into a giggle.
"And this is the new position for giving dictation, Dean?" She asked him feigning surprise. "-Or is it that I haven't even been promoted to being your assistant, yet?" She wrapped her arms around his neck as he swung her back and forth.
"A student like you I'd like to promote to a much higher position." He answered smilingly.
"Such as ... ? " She asked him teasingly.
He pretended to drop her and then catch her again; she clutched him more tightly around the neck. He swung her around and put her gently on the desk, then leaned over her as she lay on her back amidst the neatly piled papers, her hair spread out against the dark wood, her arms still around him. His face close to hers.
"Oh, Ruby, Ruby ... ! " He whispered, "You are so beautiful, so gorgeously beautiful!" He put his mouth on her lips. She pulled him closer, revealing the willingness of her eager body and searching lips and tongue, until he swung his hips onto the desk to lye beside her.
His chest pressed against her blue-sweatered breasts, his hands cradling her head, she moved her body, so that their bellies and thighs rubbed against each other. When she felt his hands searching behind her, she arched her back and felt the sudden unloosening of her brassiere as he unclasped the hook and then the warm pressure of his hand moving beneath the cloth and up over her breasts. Sweet longings stirred in her loins as he gently kneaded the pliant mound and stirred the tip to a hard rubbery crest. Breaking their kiss, he helped her take off her sweater. He fell back on top of her.
"You're so beautiful, so beautiful!" He murmured,. , as his lips browsed in the golden hollow of her neck, strayed lightly to her armpit, where he ton-gued the salty moisture and then licked away, so slowly, so tantalizingly, down her side and up to her breast. She strained against him; her hand rubbed his back and crept under his jacket; bending her knees so her skirt fell back, she wrapped her legs around his, entwining them tightly, their hips moving against each other in a slow dance. Beneath them the papers crackled and slithered to the side. A falling bottle of ink hit the rug with a soft thud.
"What on earth is going on here!" A voice suddenly bellowed from nowhere.
The two lovers became motionless, paralyzed.
"What in hell are you two doing! Get off my desk!" The voice sounded again, with loud, angry tone.
They turned their heads, their eyes wide open with surprise and shock. In the doorway stood Prof. Jensen, briefcase in hand, his round face an apople-tic red, his eyes black with anger, his heavy jowls quivering with an uncontrollable rage. One fist clutched around the handle of the briefcase, the knuckles white, he shook the other in the air as he strode toward them, looking as though he wanted to kill them both if he could manage to do so before he had a heart attack.
They quickly jumped off the desk; on the side away from him Ruby snatched her sweater from the floor and held it to her naked breasts, one hand grasping the back of the chair to steady her shaking legs. Fred stood beside her, running a hand through his hair, his face puzzled and shocked, as though he still couldn't believe that this was really happening and was not a hideous nightmare. They backed away as Prof. Jensen stamped around the desk after them, roaring and cursing like a bellowing bull.
"You damn bastards! How dare you! ... Here! In my office! Right over my desk! What the hell do you think this is? A whore house?! " He was so furious he seemed almost insane, stuttering and spitting, kicking the desk with his foot and pounding it with his fist to accentuate his words. "What kind of ... damnation ... you bloody sucking ... ! Get the hell out of here! Right now! Come on, out! Right this minute I say!"
They both slid toward the door, Fred stuttering in his attempt to apologize. "I ... I'm sorry, Prof. Jensen ... " he said. "We. . . "
"Shut up, you bastard!" Prof. Jensen roared.
"You, Fred, get the hell out of here before I'll break your bleeding neck! I'll tend to you tomorrow. Go! Out of my sight!" Then he turned his shaking finger to Ruby. "But you ... You stay! I'll talk to you now!" He brought his fist down on the desk with such force that the telephone jumped and gave a metallic buzz.
"And shut the bleeding door when you leave! You hear?! " He yelled after Fred's scuttling figure.
7
Ruby backed into a corner behind a chair and stood there trembling. As he stared at her malevolently, grinding his jaws, Ruby realized that she was still clutching the sweater to her bare breasts. She turned her back to him and quickly slipped the garment on with fumbling fingers. Behind her, she heard Prof. Jensen sink down heavily on his chair, wheezing and panting.
She turned around and stood quietly, afraid to look at him or move. In the silence of the room, she could hear her own heart thudding wildly.
"Now, young lady," Prof. Jensen said with a strangely quiet voice. "Just what is the meaning of all this? You're new here, aren't you?"
"Y-yes, Sir." She replied in a fainting voice. Her only desire was not to irritate the man any further and to get out as quickly as possible.
"Are you trying to turn this place into your private bloody boudoir?" He asked sarcastically.
"No, sir ... I'm sorry for what has happened. I really am ... ! You see ... I ... we ... we were working late and ... "
"Working late, eh? Yes, so I saw. A new way to study after hours?" The angry Dean roared.
"Yes, sir ... er ... I mean ... no, not really ... " She mumbled. "We'd come about the job and no one was here and ... " her words tumbled out.
"Shut up!" He said finally. "I don't care if you were really working or not. All I care about is your having the unmitigated, damn gaul to think you could use this place to carry on your blasted love affairs and ... "
"But ... Sir ... I ... we ... " Ruby mumbled, not knowing really what to say, under the circumstances.
"I said to shut up!" He roared. "I don't give a damn what you do outside. But this is a place of learning and not a strip joint for every tart who gets the urge to take her clothes off and hit the sack!"
Head lowered with the shame of her situation, Ruby looked up at Dean Jensen under her heavy lashes, wondering why he simply didn't tell her to get out as he had said to Fred before. His face was beet-red, mottled with angry purple patches; fringed with wisps of gray hair, even his bald head was a bright pink. He spat the words out between tightly clamped jaws; on the desk his hands were interlocked, the fingers nervously clenching and unclenching. Realizing that she was alone with him in the empty building, she began to feel afraid, for his anger and appearance were not that of a normal man; she began to perspire nervously under her clothes. She glanced toward the door and began edging toward it, moving sideways, inching slowly, afraid he would notice her movements.
"Where in hell do you think you're going?" He screamed, and sprang to his feet, moving with surprising quickness. She darted to the door but her perspiring hands slid fruitless on the metal knob and before she could get it open, he was there, his hands, seizing her arm and roughly wrenching her away. He flung her back into the room. Her heel caught on the edge of the rug. She staggered and fell awkwardly to the floor. Tears came to her eyes and she began to sob. Then she heard the key turn in the lock and a tight knot of despairing fear turned in her stomach.
She heard a snort of evil laughter and then the sharp rasp of a match and then smelled the tang of cigar smoke; she cried out as the tossed match burned through her stocking, stinging her leg, and cried out more loudly when his foot kicked her thigh. Through her tears she could see his heavy brown shoes planted solidly a few inches from her face. Afraid he would kick her again, she laid quietly, only her chest heaving as she tried to stifle her sobs.
He laughed loudly.
"Well, well, well, so the little bitch is afraid!" He prodded her with his foot. "Come on!" He said angriy. "Cut out the dramatic performance and get up. You wanted to use that plum ass of yours tonight so you might as well sit on it"
She started to get up, watching his feet warily. A sudden pain pierced through her as he grabbed her long hair and roughly dragged her to her feet She screamed, her mouth forming a large "O" of smudged lipstick, but the sharp flick of his hand across her face closed her lips and a wave of dizziness flooded through her. She stumbled backward, landing heavily on a chair. As she began to faint she heard, as coming from a great distance, through layer upon layer of cotton-wool, his hysterical laughter, ending in a series of loud hiccups. He picked up a decanter of water from a side table and splashed its contents all over her face, drenching her sweater and skirt The water dripped from the ends of her sodden hair, now hanging in limp ringlets about her tear-stained face, but it brought her to her senses. Even though she was still afraid, she began to get angry.
"Stop it! Stop it! That's enough!" She screamed at him and started to get out of her chair. He twisted her arm behind her and threw her back into it Biting and kicking blindly, she yelled through her sobs, chocking on tears. "Stop it! You old madman! What are you doing!? Why are you doing this?! Let me go, you old bastard! Let me go!"
But he held her firmly, chuckling all the while, until finally she collapsed into the chair, weak and exhausted.
"Fighting little bitch, aren't you?" He stepped back, drawing casually on his cigar, and regarded her. His eyes were cold and hard, the pupils small and steely-black. A muscle in his cheek twisted spasmodically.
"So you want to know what this is all about, heh?"
He walked behind her and put his hand on the nape of her neck. "Well, m tell you, though hell knows why ... you've certainly had rougher treatment than this in your damned whoring life."
"But I'm not a ... ! " she cried, in protest.
"Shut up!" he shouted. "I've seen you twisting and twitching that big ass of yours around here, pointing those knockers under everyone's nose, sash-shaying around all over this blasted school like a damn bitch in heat."
"But I haven't ... ! " she protested, trying again to defepd herself.
He jerked her hair. She groaned and fell silent.
"And I've wanted you ever since you first wiggled your damn blasted cunt, into this place ... but ... "
His hand loosened on her hair and she heard his heavy step behind her, pacing restlessly back and forth like a caged lion.
"But, you see ... I ... " his voice was suddenly quiet, sounding almost apologetic. "Hell knows why I'm telling you all this. You stupid bitch, but I've lusted after you so damn much and ... " His voice went on and on, now sounding almost tearful, hopeless,". . .And ... well, I haven't been able to get an erection for years ... "
She drew in her breath sharply as she heard his words.
"Look, I'm sorry ... but ... I go out of my mind sometimes when I realize I can't ... " He paused a moment. "Look, take off your clothes for me, will you? And just let me look at you ... ? " He pleaded softly.
Ruby suddenly felt sorry for him. But she also wanted to get out of there as soon as possible; yet, thinking that he'd surely let her go peacefully if she submitted to his request, she got up and quietly started taking off her clothes, fumbling at her skirt zipper, keeping her head bent so she wouldn't have to look at him.
"You can keep your stockings and shoes on," he said in a low, tense voice.
When she had undressed, she stood quietly, almost demurely in front of him.
"Now walk around," he whispered. "And hold your head up."
She walked slowly about the room, feeling his eyes devouring her flesh. Self-conscious and ill at ease, at first she walked awkwardly, as if each muscle was attached to a string he was holding in his clenched hand and could be jerked at his command. But in the silence of the room she gradually relaxed. Under the firm skin of her tanned buttocks the muscles rippled smoothly; her pointed breasts jiggled up and down, their nipples bobbing like small pink corks; her thighs brushed against each other with a faint sucking sound, their fullness downy with a fine golden fuzz and marred only by the large purple bruise where he had kicked her.
She looked up. He was sitting in the chair, one hand holding the big cigar, breathing heavily between the thick, parted lips, his eyes glazed and half-closed, staring fixedly at her pubic mound which swelled out under her belly like a half-moon, framed by the thin strip of her black garter belt and the elastics which stretched down to the stockings whose edges hugged her thighs so tightly that the flesh bulged out above in a thin narrow roll.
Still staring, he put his hands on the arms of the chair and half rose while a thick, whimpering growl rumbled in his throat. She stopped, paralyzed, as she saw a crazed haze filming his eyes. As he got up and lunged toward her, growling drunkenly, she turned and ran toward the door. It was locked. She turned around side-stepping his clawing hands and fled around the desk, too terrified to scream or shout. Rounding a corner, her heel caught in the telephone cord and she fell to the floor. On her hands and knees she crawled frantically under the desk. His hands seized her by the hips and pulled roughly back and upwards until his mouth was buried between her wildly thrashing legs, chewing and sucking deeply, a low animal moan rumbling deep in his throat. His cigar was still in his hand and its red-hot tip burned into her buttock. Upside down, she screamed and fought. But he held her strongly, his nails tearing into the flesh of her exposed cunt.
Violently she beat her heels against him until finally he dropped her, snarling with fury. He snatched a ruler from the desk and began beating her; its sharp edge lacerated her back and hips into a bleeding mess. Then he fell on top of her and they rolled and fought like two unmatched wrestlers. His clothes protected him from her flailing fists and digging nails while her unprotected nude body was soon covered with long, bloody scratches and swollen bruises, yellow, purple, black.
"You bitch! You damned whore!" He hissed at her during their violent struggle, until Ruby could fight no more. The pain had drained all the strength from her and her body suddenly stilled, limp to be turned and twisted as he desired.
Sensing her sudden surrender, the snarling old man rolled her violently over on her back and straddled her stomach. She could feel the rising hardness of his penis pushing up into her heaving breasts through the thick, rough material of his trousers and closed her eyes, her head rolling almost lifelessly to one side.
"Now, you bitch," he rasped down at her in a Wheezing, panting voice. "I'll teach you how to walk around this office like a good, rotten whore that you are. You're going to show me what you've been doing for all these other young bucks that I've seen eyeing you with their tongues hanging out right there in the campus."
In the dim haze of her half-consciousness Ruby could hear again the now familiar sound of a zipper being ripped down in haste and then the wet underside of a thick rod of flesh lying across her naked breasts. "Strange ... " she dreamed as though in a coma, "Strange how it moves like a heart-beat against me. . . " She could feel it palpitating as though it had a life of its own apart from the vicious old man it was attached to....
Then ... suddenly he reached down and tangling his hand in her soft, blonde hair, jerked her head off the floor. At the same time she could feel him shuffling forward slightly on her torso until the thin, fleshless bones of his buttocks were cutting excruciatingly into the firm, fullness of her breasts. She groaned in pain as they were smashed cruelly into her chest by his weight and found her eyes looking straight up into his monstrous, exposed penis. Huge and white, it reared out over her naked breasts toward her face with the bulging blue veins crisscrossing obscenely underneath it.
"Suck it, you bitch!" he snarled down at her, a vicious gleam of hate sparkling in his eyes.
Her head was forced up harder and she almost became sick as he pressed his cock hard against her tightly clenched lips. She could feel the warm, sticky fluid that had seeped from the tip of his prick in his excitement covering her lips and she smelled the hot, pungent odor emanating from it. His other hand dropped and reached down under his buttocks and his fingernails dug harshly into her left breast.
"Open your mouth, you damn whore! And open it wide!" He grinned at her sadistically as he spat the words down to her. His nails dug hard into her breast and her mouth gaped open with the pain. He jerked her head forward again until it felt as though he was ripping the hair from her head by the roots. And then ... the monstrous cock filled her mouth, almost choking her as it pressed against her soft, silky palate and gorged all the way back to her tonsils. She gagged and her stomach heaved; she groaned with her eyes closed, at the horrible thing kept throbbing urgently in her mouth.
"Suck! Lick!" he grunted, twining his fingers more cruelly into her hair and jerking her head up and down.
Helplessly, her mouth moved up and down on the great prick.
"Oh my!" The thoughts ran through her tortured mind, "perhaps if I make him have an orgasm, he'll leave it at that and let me go. Suck ... Suck ... Lick ... Lick ... harder ... cum ... please cum!" she thought. "Please cum ... and let me go ... ! " The words raced like wildfire through her pained and humiliated mind as she sucked like a hungry child feeding at its mother's breast, wanting to end her misery.
As she sucked, the huge cock pulsed in the soft wetness of her slaving mouth. There was a stale, musky taste on her tongue and at the back of her throat.
"Oh, Gosh ... ! How long ... ? ! How much longer will I have to stand this torment?! ! ! " Her mind pleaded over and over again, her head hurting with' the constant pull on her hair as he pumped it up and down. She wanted with all her soul for all that to end and yet it didn't. The horrible, obscene thought of his lewd sperm cascading down her throat and into her stomach sickened her and she hoped she could jerk her mouth away at the last minute to avoid this ultimate humiliation. She just couldn't let him have the satisfaction of looking down on her helpless face while he poured his hot, disgusting sperm down into her mouth ... She just couldn't bear to give this dirty, old man that final stroke of pleasure and victory over her.
But the passion-crazed dean was not to be denied his satisfaction and he fucked in and out of her mouth like an avenging barbarian at a captive of war stolen from a conquered city, spitting insults down at the top of her bobbing head as though she was a slave of his and he the lord and master whose will could decide of her very life or death.
"Suck it, you bitch! Come on, use your tongue! Swirl it around ... There ... That's it ... That's it ... ! Lick it harder ... Oh yes! Now! Now ... ! Now; NOWWWW!! I'm ... I'm cummmmmingggg! Oh Ooooohhhhh!! ! ... I'M CUUUMMMIIINNGG!! ! "
And before Ruby could have the chance to jerk her head away she felt the huge .throbbing cock fucking into her mouth expanding like a giant balloon and his steel-like hands clamping vice-like on both sides of her head, freezing her in that position. And then it exploded; the hot, sticky sperm filling her mouth in great, powerful spurts that bloated her cheeks out wide as though her mouth was filled with air. She had to swallow to keep from choking as more and more of the lewd sperm of the groaning old man above her cascaded hotly into her mouth. Her Adam's apple raced crazily up and down her tender, white throat in a crazy rhythm emitting desperate gasping sounds that thundered wetly through out the room as though nothing else in the world existed.
And for Ruby it really didn't. She laid limply beneath the lecherous old man after it was all over, feeling his long, fleshy penis deflating slowly in her mouth. She swallowed once or twice more in order to breathe and then she finally felt his body lifting from her tortured chest. The now deflated prick slipped wetly from her lips, leaving a thin trail of sticky sperm following it across the fullness of her naked breasts. She heard him chuckle once and then collapse to the floor close to her, his breath coming in short, satiated gasps.
Ruby laid there for a few minutes, at first too afraid to move. But as he continued his panting and weaving and made no sign of movement, she cautiously lifted her pain-racked body and crawled over to where her clothes were scattered on the rug. Dragging them behind her, she inched toward the door, picking up the key from the floor where it had fallen.
She lifted herself up on one elbow and slipped the key into the lock. He was still lying there, panting and muttering unintelligibly to himself, his words almost indistinguishable, running together into a crazed, dull monotone. She clawed the door open and crawled through.
Exhausted, she lay motionless on the floor of the outer office until the fear that he might come after her drove her to her feet. Clutching the wall for support, she staggered down the hall, threw her coat around her nude body and stumbled down the steps toward her freedom.
8
After the short winter vacations, Ruby was about to begin her second semester at Norkfolk. She went through all the steps of routine for the re-registration and went to attend her classes the day the school was open for Spring. An unexpected and unpleasant surprise was awaiting her there: her name didn't appear in any of the lists of students registered for those classes. At first she couldn't understand why, but then believing it to be some error at the office of the Registrar, she went there to straighten things up. There she saw Fred Sherman who had gotten there before her. He was walking with long, hurried strides from one office to another, until he emerged from the last one, his books new and yet unused held under his arm and a weary expression on his boyish face. When he saw Ruby he went over to her.
"Hi, Ruby," he said grimly. "What's the matter, your name doesn't appear in any of the classes you were registered for?" he asked her with bitter concern.
"Yes ... " Ruby said with a confused frown. "How do you know? Do you have the same trouble?"
"Sure I do!" Fred revealed with clenched jaws. "I have been all over the lousy place and it seems as though I" never even mentioned registering myself for the Spring semester. It seems that all my papers are gone. The clerk told me she couldn't even find my file at all!"
"What is it, Fred?" Ruby asked apprehensively. "Do you think that I'm in the same situation as you?"
"Sure you are!" he blurted. "Go ahead and ask and you'll see how the entire office gets in motion but nobody can find your file. And you know why, honey?" He paused a moment, his face contracted and flushed by the heated rage he seemed to contain at that situation. "Our files can't be found simply because they aren't there, that's why!"
"B-but ... why, Fred?" Ruby asked fearfully and without getting to understand what was there at the origin of all that illogical situation. "What's going on? I don't understand why is this all happening?"
"You don't?" Fred replied sternly, "Well I do, Ruby, and I think I know who's behind all this! I'm going to find out for sure and if it is what I'm thinking about ... ! " His tight-lipped face expressed the intensity of Fred's contained rage. "I swear to you that I'll get that old pervert and squeeze his neck!"
When she heard Fred's words, Ruby's brain began to see clearer and the girl finally understood the reason for the young man's murderous attitude about the problem. "Dean Jensen, you mean ... ? " she asked, wishing that it wouldn't be true, hoping that the horrible nightmare she was forced to live that night by the depraved Dean would have had an end in its own revolting completion. She thought she couldn't bear the thought of having to face, endure and deal with any sequel of consequences that would place her once again near the memory and the characters involved in that shameful event she thought already dead and buried deep in her oblivion. "Fred ... " she repeated wearily. "Why do you think Dean Jensen has anything to do with this problem ... ? It'll be silly for him to annoy us in this manner ... I'm sure everything can get clarified and we will be able to take our courses this semester ... Why would he do a thing like that?" She asked, feeling a tight knot of icy panic being slowly entwined around her stomach.
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Ruby ... " Fred spoke grimly. "Everything was all right until now, isn't it ... ? Both of us registered without any problem ... Maybe at that time he couldn't have given us any real trouble, but now it's different. The time to register for this Spring semester has already expired. That's perhaps why he waited until now to make our files vanish ... You see Ruby, I believe he's trying to force us to matriculate in another college in order not to lose this semester and then stay there, in whatever college we'd go for this Spring ... "
"But ... Why do you think that, Fred?"
"Remember what happened that night, hon.? " Fred asked sympathetically. "That he told me he was going to deal with me the day after ... ? " Ruby nodded. "Well, he did ... " Fred spoke softly, but on his pleasant chubby face of nice, family boy, one could see the bitterness of the memories from that incident brought back to his resentful mind.
. .The next morning, first thing in the morning, he had me summoned to his office ... " The boy's facial muscles contracted like steel cables at this point. " ... What happened in there it's better not to mention it ... Thinks like that are better forgotten or they corrode the liver with a hatred that makes you wish ... "
Ruby nodded gravely. Fred would never know how deeply she understood his words, and how moved she was to hear them.
". . .Anyway ... " Fred continued. "Before he dismissed me ... his last phrase was: I would have wanted to expel you two dirty trash from this school but I've thought ... And when he said that, I interrupted him and told him: "Try that you depraved old goat and I'll drag you through the mud until every newspaper in the country and every single member of the board of Education will know who or what you really are! Try and break my career, you old deviant and repulsive aberrant and I'll break yours and your neck after ... ! " Fred's fists were clenched spasmodically at the thought of the past violence between them two. "Believe me, Ruby, I would have done it! If that disgusting old creature would have dared to point his revolting finger at me with an order of expulsion, I'd ... ITd ... ! " Fred's fists were clenched so tightly around his books that his knuckles were white from the pressure. "Anyway, I thought he'd take it on me only and would leave you, at least, alone and in peace ... In any case, I saw him only once after that; at the stairs of Jackson Hall, where we crossed each other in different directions. At that time he looked at me murderously and said: 'don't think you've frightened me, Sherman ... You'll see that this is your last semester at Norkfold ... ' I thought it was only spit and hot air, but that he wouldn't really do anything ... But now when I saw what's going on and that it happened to you also, I'm sure that the dirty swine has a lot to do with it ... ! "
Soon they could convince themselves how true Fred's words were, when Ruby went through the same trouble that Fred had had before her ... When the two of them had exhausted all the efforts possible to clarify and fix their situation, they realized it was totally impossible for any one of them to register for any course at Norkfold, and that there was nothing they could do about it....
Suddenly, before they left the office of the registrar, a frightening thought lashed through Ruby's confused mind: what would happen with the money her father must have already send to Norkfold to cover all her expenses at Norkfold for the beginning Spring semester?
She asked the Registrar and his answer clenched another icy hand of icy panic around her throat: "If your father has mailed any checks to us for your tuition etc., and that check is not applied to your tuition, Miss Antrim, you can be sure that your father will be promptly refunded. His check will be mailed back by return mail together with a letter of explanation. You don't have to worry about that ... " The man smiled soothingly, thinking that Ruby's concern was only the fate of her father's money and that he would not lose any amount uselessly. His words, however, didn't have any soothing effect at all on Ruby, quite the contrary.
As she walked back to the dormitory, her head was a storm of confused thoughts and a desolate, icy fear began to take hold of her steamed, weary mind ... "How could she explain to her parents the problem which prevented her from going to school this coming semester? What would be their reaction? Would they agree to have her transferred to another college or would they simply end her college life there ... ? "
By the next morning she had reached a firm decision: no matter what would be the outcome of this situation, she would not go back to her parent's home ... That would mean she had to find a job and real quick, or else she would have had to go back home whether she liked it or not ... Very early the next morning, Ruby Antrim began her efforts to remain in the city and started the worst part of her struggle to retain her recently-obtained freedom which had become so utterly precious for her ... She bought a newspaper and marked a few of the want ads, then explained the situation to the dorm house-mother and pleaded with the old and bitchy woman to let her stay a couple of days there for her to make other arrangements. The irascible woman agreed reluctantly, but that gave her a very limited time to fix her situation....
Immediately after she had spoken to the nasty old woman who was the omnipotent head of Norfolk's Dormitory for Women and obtained the two days truce, Ruby gulped a cup of steaming black coffee and took the Subway to her first 'port of call': a firm dealing with waxed paper cups which had an office in West 17th Street.
The building was old and unbelievably dirty. She took the foul-smelling ancient elevator and went squeaking up, wishing she'd taken the stairs instead ... As she arrived to the fourth floor, where the office was located, she thought she wouldn't really like working in such unpleasant environments. However, the enthusiasm returned to her as she recalled her emergency situation.
As she entered the crummy-looking office, a middle-aged receptionist, dressed like a young call girl and painted like and old whore who'd taken show business after retirement gazed at her with suspicious expression: "Yes ... What is it you wanted, lady ... ? " The woman shrieked hostilely.
"I came about the clerical position ... " Ruby began to speak.
"Ah, the job. . . ! " The unpleasant woman said with a slight touch of sarcasm that Ruby couldn't quite understand. Then, she glided her blood-shot bulging eyes up and down the length of Ruby's body, as though she'd be measuring the girl with ill-willed spite. Then she said despondently: "You'll have to see Mr. Thomson for that ... " She paused a moment, fixing her eyes to Ruby's timid face, then, with a twisted, ironic smile, added: "Do you have any ... experience ... ? "
"That depends on what the work is ... " Ruby answered, not knowing what to say.
"Oh, that depends ... " The woman said with a smile that Ruby found obscene. "Go ahead, Mr. Thomson is behind that door ... " She pointed at a point beyond a couple of small open rooms where two or three unpleasant-looking people were working around in old unclean desk "just knock before you enter ... "
Ruby nodded her thanks and walked over to the place indicated by the woman. Once there she knocked firmly twice. As the sound of her own knuckles against the door penetrated her ears, Ruby's heart accelerated to a maddening race inside her chest. "Oh, God! She prayed eagerly. "Help me get this job! Make this man, Mr. Thomson, whomever he is, hire me, so I can stay ... ! "
"Come in!" A rasping voice grunted from inside the office.
9
Ruby opened the door and walked in. The man inside didn't bother to stand up for her. He was a huge, massive man with a face resembling a pumpkin, even in the color of its skin ... A mop of greasy black hair hung in sicklish patches from the top of his balding head like glistening and thin painter's brushes that would have gotten stuck to his cranium. A long, unneat moustache hung over both sides of his thin-lipped mouth and it seemed to grown from the plump, piggy nose and came out through his very wide nostrils. His obese humanity was dressed in a gray, dirty-looking suit. He was sweating copiously from the heat in his small office, and his entire face was covered with his greasy perspiration, which seemed to exude through the worn out material of his suit impregnating its dirt-filled material with the sticky secretion of his ov-er-worked sweat glands.
The moment he set an eye on Ruby, his black, beady eyes adopted a piercing, lustful look, which he slid all over the girl's curvaceous figure with a bold, ludicrous expression. He smiled, showing a row of cracked, tobacco-stained teeth which were projected outward in a fan-like formation which held his upper lip slightly up to allow the buck teeth to find their way out of his mouth. Then he extended a fatty arm indicating a chair in front of his desk. "I imagine you're an applicant for clerk, aren't you ... ? "
"Yes, sir ... " Ruby answered in her most pleasant voice, going to occupy the chair he had offered her. When she looked at him a second time she realized why was it that his face had seemed so familiar to her: he looked like the image of the Mexican bandolero as seen by the movies. So often it has been shown as Mexicans have appeared in Hollywood-made films that once she had thought that all Mexicans were made the exact replicas of each other and that all of them looked like this man looked. The thought had impressed her then and that was why she had stored the stereotype image in her mind, when she met a Mexican boy who had come to live in Stetson City and she found out that it wasn't like that at all and that Mexicans were people like any other and that they came in all sort of shapes, images, weights and shades of hair ... It was only then that she had realized the foolishness of her first idea; since, after all, Mexicans were people, human being like the rest of the world, including America ... And people cannot possibly be made in a single model ... At this moment, looking at this man with whom she was hoping to work, she felt the same nauseating revulsion she used to feel at that time of her childhood, at the thought of anything Mexican....
"Have you ever worked before ... ? The man asked her, but his eyes revealed that he couldn't care less about her working experience but that he cared a lot about the throbbing shape of her breasts. "What have you done ... ? Typing ... Filing or ... what ... ? "
"I would like to know what would I have to do if I get ... ? " She began to ask him, in order to evade his question and at the same time get an idea of what would be expected from her there.
"Nothing you couldn't do, honey. Opening mail, delivering it and general errand work-going only to get us coffee and stuff like that. Wouldn't tax that beautiful head of yours." He tilted his chair back and leered at Ruby.
"So, what about it?" he said.
"Well, I ... " She faltered.
"Doesn't pay much, of course," he added, "but then, you don't have to worry about that. This company always takes care of its employees and there's no doubt that with your looks, girlie, you'll be well taken care of around here." He laughed, got up and walked slowly around the desk. Ruby sat quietly, twisting her fingers, and watched the man's hands. His thumbs were hooked in his belt and one hand held the stinking cigar, they were large and chapped with crescents of dirt under the cracked nails. Somehow, they made her feel nauseated. She felt her stomach rising and falling and she was afraid to vomit right there. She had to control this feeling; she just couldn't let it overcome her sense of logic.
"Well, I ... " she started to say.
She didn't dare raise her eyes he came toward her, but continued to stare at his hands and behind them his stomach which swelled out like a soft, ov-er-ripe watermelon under the belt and shirt, stained with sweat and dirt, limp and wrinkled.
"What's the matter, honey, I won't bite you!" He laughed again as he stood in front of her. She saw his hands move. He flicked his cigar, the ashes falling onto her skirt and over her white gloves. He put his other hand on her shoulder and squeezed it
"Well, what about it?" he repeated.
"I don't think I'll take the job." She said. She was tense and frightened. But what could happen to her in this office? She glanced out of the corner of her eyes at the closed door.
The man roared with laughter again and moved his dirty hand to the nape of her neck and rubbed it with firm fingers, making her shiver with a strange mixture of disgust and lust
"Honey, you better think again. There might be more money in it for you than just from the job. You know, you're quite a looker ... I'm sure you'll like it over here ... "
"I don't think I want the job," Ruby said again and started to get up, but the man's hands drew her toward him and crushed her against his chest
His head bent toward hers; she saw his stained teeth and smelled the nauseating smell of his breath as his mouth sought her own. Turning away her head, she struggled to free herself from his arms and kicked his chin.
"God damn!" he growled. "You're a real she-devil!"
He lifted her by the armpits and put her on the edge of his desk. Pushing her back against the hard wood and crumpled papers, he leaned over her, his crotch pressed against hers, his jutting stomach spread over her hips, and held her down, one hand clamped tightly and firmly on her breast while the other searched under her skirt and fumbled up over her thighs to where her panties met in a flimsy silken triangle over her soft pubic mound. His warm palm burned through the material as he reached down and seized her by this most sensitive area of her body.
"Let me go!" She screamed. "Let go of me!" She twisted and writhed under his hands, feeling his short, stubby middle finger insinuating itself up under the elastic leg band of her thin nylon panties. She gasped in sudden pain and humiliation as she suddenly felt it sink deep between the fleshy lips of her vagina and far up inside her. His other hand left her breast and clamped over her mouth, trying to stifle out the cries of terror building there at the sudden and unexpected attack. Ruby was almost out of her mind from the shock of the quick paralyzing fear of what this pudgy, fat, disgusting man might do to her in his wild uncontrollable lust.
She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes bulging wide in disbelief. Sweat was rolling in tiny rivulets from his forehead from the unaccustomed exertion he was forcing on his flaccid body and his eyes shone with twin sparks of madness she had seen before in the wild rolling eyes of the insane in some far distant horror movie she had seen as a child. There was nothing she could do. Her body was frozen and she felt as though she was some distant observer gazing down on the unbelievable scene of her own rape in the office of this horrible creature who could not even be called human for this lewd access of raging lust was completely animal.
Ruby lay on the pap-er-littered desk like some defenseless cornered mouse chased into a crevice by an evil pursuing cobra. Her muscles were useless and she could only follow his lewd, revolting actions with the fear-dilated pupils of her eyes as he pried her legs apart with his own short fat thighs and edged far up between them. He slipped his finger wetly from her cunt and placing both hands under her knees, lifted her legs high up off the floor, at the same time pulling her toward him across the desk. There was no sound in the room now except the fat man's heavy, faltered breathing that became more desperate with each moment he drew closer to possessing the lovely young body propped defenselessly on the desk. Ruby could feel her body sliding with ease through the disorganized stacks of paper that floated to the floor around them with a strange uneasy silence. Her shoulders on either side of the man's head, his hands snaked around her hips, pulling her toward him again until the whole of her upturned loins were pressed tight against the hard bulge beneath his pants.
The harsh metallic sound of a zipper being hurriedly pulled down broke the silence of the room and Ruby felt the wet lubricated end of his penis pressing hotly against the soft inner flesh of her thighs at the top of her silk stockings. There was nothing separating them now but the flimsy band of her panties running up between her wide-open legs.
She wanted to cry, even more to scream, to tear herself away from this repulsive creature who was using her young fear-frozen body as though she were a whore who had just walked in from the streets. But ... she couldn't. All she could do was to lay still as she was, helpless, on her back over the messy pile of papers scattered all over the desk and let the dirty, filthy old creep play with her tender genitals as he wished. Was it that she was actually enjoying this repulsive scene? It couldn't be! She couldn't have fallen so low! But why was it that she didn't utter the slightest cry to alarm him, to make him stop his dirty game? Ruby rolled her head helplessly, feeling the same, familiar shivers of lust tingling through her heated body.
10
The man lifted her legs even higher, still, and pulled her even closer to the edge of the desk until the white, rounded ends of her buttocks were hanging slightly over the side. At the same time, he arched his loins toward the center of her open thighs. She whimpered piteously, the first sound she was able to utter since the horrible nightmare began and a trembling plead escaped in a faltering whisper from her throat.
"Please ... please, don't do this to me!! Please!! "
But, to her increased horror, she saw a lewd smile break across his fat slobbering lips.
"Come on, honey, don't play the little virgin with me! This tear-trick doesn't work with old Al any more! You've got a good little hole there which I didn't dig! I bet you got a hell of a lot of pleasure when the guy was doing H to you, eh ... ! " His raucous, mocking laughter was unbearable.
"Please ... !" Ruby protested again, her eyes wide open in desperate supplication. "Please, mister ... leave me alone ... Let me go! Please!! ! "
"Baby, I'm gonna fuck you like you have never been fucked in your pretty little life!" He grunted down at her with animal satisfaction; his small beady eyes dropping from her face to the exposed center of her loins. "Bet you got the hottest lil' pussy in town ... "
His hand moved down the inner flesh of her thigh and she automatically raised her head from the desk where it was lying and looked with pleading eyes down between the full cleavage of her still-covered breasts to the spread of her legs below. Another small squeal of protest escaped from Ruby's lips as she saw his thick, fat hand slide around the curve of her leg to her thigh and between her legs to pull aside the thin wet crotch-piece of her panties. Her eyes widened even more and she gave a chocking gasp as she felt the hardness of the head of his cock probing harshly at the now open and unprotected lips of her fear-quivering cunt.
The man brushed it up and down the cum-moistened slit for a short while parting the full, fleshy lips like a blunt knife piercing its way through a soft cube of butter. Her stomach felt sick and nauseated and she heard him begin spitting words in a lewd, dirty language through his clenched teeth as though he were a mad man.
"Oh, what a shake! What a tight I'll pussy ... !
Lovely cunt hair ... never seen one like that before ... gonna fuck you like crazy ... come to Daddy, baby ... Don't you like Daddy's big prick ... ? I'm gonna ram it into your lil' cunt and make you scream your head out ... Yeah, baby ... scream of pleasure! You'd think you've never been with a man before ... a man, baby ... a real male ... ! ! You'll see ... !
And then ... unable to contain himself any longer, he jerked himself forward, sinking his fat, thick penis half-way into Ruby's cringing vagina. Ruby gave out a desperate choking gasp. An expression of utter disbelief for what was happening came over her face as she felt the thick blunt cock sliding relentlessly into her, filling her to the hilt with his steaming male flesh.
"Oh, Ooooohhhh, please, no.. Noooo.. Please.. ! Pleaaaaaase. No!! ! " Her voice rasped helplessly as the brutal realization that all this was true tunneled into her tortured mind, and materialized there in all it's shocking reality.
The fat old man's eyes gleamed, as he looked down between their now lewdly coupled bodies and watched the slow agonizing disappearance of his thick fleshy cock into the soft curly fleece between Ruby's upheld thighs. When he had it a little over half-way in, he stopped the wet, viscous penetration and hissed down at her tortured face.
"There, honey ... you like to feel Daddy's big cock inside you. Don't you? You like it a lot, eh!" He laughed again with his horrible short laugh. "I'm gonna give you the fucking of your life, baby! I promise you that! Your pussy is really exciting!! ! !
A pity it's been already used! Ha, ha, ha!! ! ! " He roared lewdly.
Ruby moaned in her agony and humiliation, and did not reply to the leering man's ludicrous questions. She did not want to abandon herself to the mounting wave of lust tingling at her hot, throbbing cunt which threatened to overpower her senses.
"You like it, baby, I can tell," he chuckled lasciviously. "You want more of it, don't you? You want it all inside you, eh? I can feel that tight lil' pussy beggin' for it. Tell me, baby, tell me, and I'll give it to you, I'll ram it all inside you!" He urged her. "Come on, tell me what you want!"
Ruby could not speak and just nodded her head. Gosh! She had to get it over with or this horrible man would never let her go. He would go on inventing hell knows how many other humiliations ... She just had to get it over with as soon as possible!
"Tell me, baby!" He said even more brutally this time, pinching the soft inner flesh of her thigh hard between his pudgy fingers. Ruby felt her clitoris squeezed beyond any pleasure, sending a searing pain through her body which brought a protesting moan from her clenched teeth. She sensed he could be very brutal and cruel as he subjected her to this shameful situation of having his big, engorged prick, throbbing half-way within her wet slippery cunt, and keeping it there, still, until she answered his lewd, humiliating questions.
"Aaaaagggghhh!" Ruby grunted as the pain became even more excruciating. "Y-you're hurting me!" It hurt so much that she found it unbearable. She knew she couldn't resist much longer that pain.
"Tell me to fuck you, baby!" He teased her cruelly. "Tell me to fuck that HI' cunt of yours, baby. Speak up, and you'll get it all into you! I told you I could give you the greatest fucking pleasure you'd ever had! Speak, or I'll become a bad boy." He squeezed her tender flesh a little harder and tears escaped from Ruby's eyes. "You see? Come on, now! Tell me how you want it. You know the words ... ! Say them or I'll ... ! " He squeezed her aching clitoris even harder.
"Ooooohhhh! No!" The young girl groaned at the searing pain she felt, and finally found the strength, from deep within her sub-conscious mind, to follow his preposterous command. "Yessss, Oh, yes ... fuck it ... fuck it ... Yes, Daddy, give it to me!"
The lecherous, fat man above her released his flesh-tearing grip on her clitoris and with a triumphant wheeze rammed his enormous cock as far dnto her vagina as it would go.
"Ooooohhh!" Ruby groaned as it dug up inside her cunt stretching the tender lips and inner walls of her vagina wide apart. She grunted as the taut, blood-filled head smashed with a jolt all the way up to her cervix. She found herself completely impaled in the most humiliating position in the world, and the idea of her lush young body completely at the mercy of this disgusting beast made her cringe in horror.
But the fact of having this beautiful young girl there, lying helplessly at his mercy drove the fat, puffing man almost wild with raging lust He rammed his cock in and out of her, quickly and without any regard to the pain he was subjecting her to by the twisting and turning of her flesh beneath his hands as his huge, thick cock pistoned in and out of her widely stretched pussy like a big, throbbing blimp. There was nothing he could do but lay there and groan out her pain and indignation to the un-hearing air above her. There was no one to help her as she laid limp and helpless on the desk, until she suddenly heard the man gasp chokingly, and felt his rhythm quickening. She knew he was soon to reach his climax.
A few lunges more and suddenly the hot, thick sperm of his raping passion came shooting out in short but powerful jets entering deep down inside her trembling creamy belly.
He collapsed across her body, mashing her breasts against her chest. His limp, now satiated cock was still inside her cum-flooded cavern; his soft, hairy balls lying against the crevice between her buttocks.
After a while, he stood up, puffing and wheezing between her legs for a moment, as the hardness of his penis slowly drained itself and it became deflated inside her. Then, he backed away and collapsed in a puffing heap on the couch against the wall behind him.
Ruby had never felt so soiled and degraded in her life as she now struggled to her feet from the top of the desk. The crotch band of her panties slipped back to place under her dress as she stood up, and she could feel it wet and sticky against the aching flesh between her legs by the disgusting flood of his sperm inside her.
Pale and trembling, her fingers nervously tried to straighten up her skirt as he shakily struggled to his feet and stood beside her. She felt an angry frustration for she hadn't even been able to reach a more or less satisfactory climax with the man's brutal fucking.
"Baby, You're a nice little screw ... I think we can use some of those 'goodies' around here!" He laughed as though he had said something funny obviously not realizing that he was humiliating her even further.
Ruby didn't utter a word as she struggled to put some order to her crumpled clothing.
"Okay, okay!" He said, laughing again and blowing his foul-smelling cigar smoke in her face. "You can't blame me for grabbin' a little sex from a cute hot chick like you, can you? I'm only human!"
She finished fixing up her clothing and combed her hair quickly, without breaking the heavy silence.
"Won't do you any good to go to the cops, baby, if that's what you're thinking about!" He threatened her with a knowing smile. "All of them guys in the outer office would swear they didn't hear any struggle going on in here ... Might even say you propositioned me for a sex job, and you know how nasty the cops usually get with broads soliciting decent gentlemen for whoring purposes ... "
Without saying a word or looking at him, Ruby picked up her purse, walked over to the door, opened it and slammed it hard behind her. She could hear the horrible laughter of the dirty, fat man as she walked away and tiny tears bubbled in the corner of her eyes.
"Welcome to the big city!" it seemed to her that She heard the mocking voice of the fat man. "You'll love it here, baby ... "
Ruby decided then and there that she would indeed love it, from this moment on.
11
Back in her room, Ruby Antrim cried grievously for a long while, tears of rage and shame flowing freely from her huge, liquid eyes, and running down her cheeks, over her sob-contorted mouth and even wetting the wooly material of her dress, with a cool perceptible moisture of a salty taste which was much less bitter than her real, deeply-felt frustration.
There she was, out of school-which meant she had only one single day to vacate the little room she now occupied in the dorms building-and unable to find a decent job to buy her daily bread with out having some old lecher impose his revolting self sexually upon her unwilling body. She realized she was in a real tight spot
With that quiet fury of helpless desperation, Ruby Antrim mentally reviewed all the unpleasant incidents and unfortunate and dirty encounters she has had so frequently in her life involving fat, middle-aged men, dirty and profane who had thought they were to be entitled to the possession of her female body to practice with her all their wanton perversions. No matter how hard she had fought to prevent them, in one way or another they had all succeeded in defiling her luscious young body, a body which they had mistreated without exception imposing their aberrant desires to hurt and mortify her sensitive flesh of which they had used in such humiliating manner.
First it had been her father ... It was true that Joshua Antrim never had any sexual contact with his daughter. At least that horror, Ruby didn't have to endure. Her father would have died first than to submit his own daughter to such abjection, and Ruby knew that there are many fathers, all over the nation, who do not share this view, and that was-in her opinion-a hell even worst than the one she was suffering with all her bad luck together.
But Joshua had also been a fat, plumpy man in his late middle-age, who was often dirty and frequently one could hardly come near him because of the intense stench of his foul-smelling pipe that impregnated his clothing as well as the very air around him, where it remained stagnant and acrid in its polluting presence. And Joshua had also many times lacerated her tender body with the excruciating lashes of his heavy leather belt, just because she said some silly nonsense. Later, when she became a shapely adolescent, Joshua belted her brutally whenever he would imagine there could exist any sexuality involved in a casual chat with some boy she knew from the neighborhood, or if by any chance she would merely scratch herself casually on the crotch even to fix her clothing somewhat near there ... These actions were taken as though they were the mark of her sinful nature, and Joshua beat her with panting strength believing he was saving her from the damnation of her dirty thoughts. Once, a year or so ago, Ruby couldn't stand the injustice of his cruel attitude toward her and stared at him, with her eyes fixed at him with a calm which made her look as though her body had been anesthetized and she had become insensitive and was unable to suffer the tearing agony of her father's savage floggings. Her body became streaked with bleeding marks from the cutting edge of his belt, but Ruby kept staring steadily at his eyes, without uttering a word of protest nor moving a muscle that would reveal the excruciating pain that was racking her tortured humanity. At one moment, she was facing him with stern, reproaching look, while the fury of his lacerating belt was falling like a devastating storm all over her body, and long ribbon-like wounds appeared over her arms and even her hands and shoulders, bleeding profusely a stream of dark-red, viscous fluid which clogged over the deep furrows of her macerated flesh. She received two raging lashes over her neck and face and then she felt the entire world slipping out from under her feet, her head felt empty and losing any sense of balance; big smudges of wide blind spots began to cover her field of vision and grew increasingly wider until she lost all conscience of herself and the life she had been able to live in the short span of this unfortunate existence.
Yet, before she sank into the dark unreality of total unconsciousness, she caught a glimpse of her father's eyes, and for a split of a second she was convinced that he was enjoying the brutal and unjust chastisement he was ministering to his young daughter's tender body, and she saw something utterly pervert and obscene in the look she saw glitter at that very moment in her father's eyes, a certain something which had a lot of deviated sexuality involved. It was a pleasure of the senses of an odd, bizarre kind what her father experience while he brutalized her, and he was her own father! And he called himself moral and righteous!
Then there was Bert, the guy who drove her to New York and who deflowered her virginal body so cruelly over the grass the moment he felt like doing so. It was true that he was nor fat nor old, nor did he have any foul smell. But he had also to be included in her collection of men who have needed all that paraphernalia of sexual violence to-assure themselves that they are really men ... or,' at least, to perform sexually as such ... !
When she was playing and horsing around with Fred, at the empty office, Dean Jensen taken hold of the situation. Fred, the male between the two, got away with only a word. Herself, instead, had to endure the revolting intimacy with the old, fat Dean who had also beat and kicked her to his heart's content. For the same "crime," Fred had been told to get out of there, and had been called a bastard by the angry Dean; while she had been forced to surrender herself in humiliation to him; and, besides had been tortured by him in her flesh and mind as much as he had pleased.
Richard Gwynn, the strong, virile professor of Oriental History, who never ceased to plead with her to come with him to his apartment, where he would possess her only after degrading her to assert his ego careful not to be around when Ruby was prevented to remain at Norkfold. In order to evade any responsibility he might contract with her, he took the pain of not being available anywhere nor inform anyone of his whereabouts during the first couple of days following the Dean's final act of cruelty towards the girl.
Having been left out in the could by everyone she knew and trusted, Ruby finally had gone to answer a want ad for a clerical position at a small, unknown firm. Not only she got no job, but waw brutally raped and fucked endlessly by a feeble old lecher who was supposed to be the man to give her employment.
After a long while plunged in deep, weary thoughts, Ruby recovered her cool and dried her tears. In a moment like this, she could not afford any tears. She needed to take a decision immediately, for she had to act right away and she realized the transcendental importance of her decision: What could she do right now? Where could she go? How could she get money to live?" The only answer she could find for all those questions together seemed to converge in one point of her reality: She would give men the only thing they seem to want, just like a beast is given the meat of a dead animal, exactly like that she would deliver her body to them. But this time there would be something different in the original arrangement. This time those men who lusted wantonly after her would not get anything for free: she will make them pay through their noses for every moment with her. This time it won't be anymore like before, every one will pay for every second of pleasure taken from her defiled body.
A soft smile of faint bitterness appeared in her pulpous young lips. "Yes, that's the only door I have yet to open; let's see what I find beyond. . . " She wondered, anticipating a sweet taste of revenge that mitigated the frightening flavor of her own blood.
When she had made up her mind totally about what she intended to do, Ruby Antrim got quickly dressed, and went over to see Polly to ask the friendly pro to give her some pointers, on how to get and treat the customers, etc. She was an authority on the subject.
12
Ruby sat down on a wide, eight-foot couch which was set at an angle to the fireplace. Although the room was luxuriously furnished with white walls, a thick blue rug and matching drapes, and deep, comfortable chairs, it was a mess. Dust lay heavily Over liquor-stained tables;. Ashtrays overflowing with smelly cigarette butts were on all the tables and partially empty glasses abounded with even a few lying on their sides over the rug. Ruby looked over the room critically and planned how she would rearrange the furniture after she had moved in.
Carrying two cups of coffee, Polly swished in, the blue nylon billowing behind her, her long legs flicking in and out as the skirt parted. She was still nude, and underneath the flimsy material her pink flesh glowed warmly, the nipples on her full swaying breasts and the soft hair covering her prominent pubic mound with a dark red. Her hair combed, her face washed and with lipstick on, she looked more attractive, although when she handed Ruby her cup of coffee, the young, girl could see faint lines of fatigue around her eyes and dark circles beneath.
Polly placed the cup on a side table and flopped down on a chair across from Ruby.
"Jeez! What a life! At least you look alive!" She said, with a certain bitterness in her raucous voice.
Ruby smiled at her. At first she had been jealous when Eddie had told her he was living with Polly, but now she began to feel sorry for her; she looked so tired and still didn't know that Eddie was going to throw her out, real soon.
"Eddie says you want to start making some dough and that you don't know much about the business." Polly looked her up and down. "But I really can't believe that with the lay-out you've got ... ! You must have some kind of experience!"
"He said you could probably give me a few tips," Ruby said.
"Honey, what I know I could say in about three words." Polly began "Make your pitch fast, don't waste time with them if they don't grab the bait right away, ask for more that you think they'll give, make them pay in advance and get out quickly afterwards. Of course, that's if you're working the bars or high-er-class places. If you're on the street, God help you, there's a going rate." She paused. "You've got a man looking after you?"
"No-o-o!" Ruby stuttered. "Not yet, that is.! ! ! "
"Well, you soon will. If you're working the street, you'll have your beat and he'll keep an eye on you to see you're not cheating him. He gets the dough, Of course, and in return he takes care of you and protects you. And for Pete's sake, don't try to muscle in on someone else or you're liable to get cut up."
"I don't really intend to work the streets," Ruby said almost in a whisper, feeling a shiver of cold, unpleasant fear running down her spine.
"Yeah. With your looks, you won't have to ... At least, not for the moment ... Later, maybe ... Start right out at the high-class bars and aim high. Someone probably starts promoting you and then you're all set to make a hundred or so a night if you're lucky." She looked at her coldly. "I hope you haven't got your eye on my Eddie." She sounded suspicious.
"Why, no! Of course not!" Ruby stammered.
"Well, don't. If you know what's good for you." Polly stared at her for a while, and then suddenly smiled warmly.
"I'm sorry, honey, for suspecting you-I guess you're on the square, though." She got up. "Gosh, I need a drink! Want one? I'll do you good, believe an old pro!"
"No, not right now, thanks." Ruby managed to say.
Polly went over to the portable bar, poured herself some gin and sat down next to Ruby, putting her arm along the top of the couch behind the girl.
"Being a woman, I guess you know the rest." She added with a worn-out smile. "I suppose so, but ... "
"And another thing. The pay is for a reasonable straight job. If they get any funny and weird ideas,-and believe me, honey, you'll come up against some you never dreamed of,-you can either refuse or get more dough out of them."
"Oh?" Ruby was surprised.
"And unless it's an all-night job, get the hell out of there right after they've had their shake. If they want another, make them pay again."
Her arm slid down and rested lightly on Ruby's shoulder.
"But don't worry, honey. You'll be okay. Just play it cool and you'll soon learn the ropes. And stick" to the high-class joints ... I'm sure you'll do just fine."
Ruby couldn't avoid looking at Polly's maturely rounded body so casually displayed under the delicate, transparent blue negligee which laid like shadowed ice over the slumbrous, heavy curves. The woman's hand was lightly stroking Ruby's shoulder and she wondered whether to get up and leave, but decided to wait and see what would happen.
"Sure you don't want a drink, honey?" Polly asked.
"No, thanks." Ruby didn't know what to say or where to look. Polly uncrossed her legs and the skirt fell open. like polished ivory, her thighs laid smooth and creamy, their heavy, ripe flesh pushed out against the blue cloth by their own weight "She looked still very competent" Ruby thought
"That's a pretty negligee." She said awkwardly.
"Thanks. Got it from a boy friend." Her hand rubbed the nape of Ruby's neck. The loose neckline slid down over one shoulder, its edge draped lightly over the full curve of her breast, as large as a ripe cantaloupe.
"Well, I guess I'd better get going," Ruby said. She moved lightly on the couch.
"What's the rush, honey?" Polly leaned toward her, her face a few inches from Ruby's. Over the dilated pupils of her eyes, her lids were partially closed. She ran her tongue over her red, half-parted lips, and then pressed them suddenly and unexpectedly over Ruby's.
For a moment, the young girl twisted in her arms and struggled to get up, but Polly held her securely. And soon the sweet honey of her mouth and tongue, her gentle stroking hands and the warm heavy weight of her body, conquered her momentary shock and sparked a strange fire of desire in her belly. She relaxed and surrendered herself to Polly's lips and body, turning her torso as Polly's hands unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off, arching her hips as they drew off her skirt and panties, kicking off her shoes and lying on her back, passively and quietly, as the older woman slowly peeled her nylon stockings from her long, slim legs.
Ruby suddenly squirmed again in an attempt to rise and fight the teasing of her body, but her mind seemed to have gone blank and all sense of perception vanished. The rebellion was only momentary and her body stilled again, readying itself to receive the unknown and strangely drilling caresses.
"Oh, baby, you're terrific!" Polly murmured. With a hot, moist tongue, she gently licked up Ruby's legs, fluttering her lips against the tender flesh of her inner thighs while Ruby groaned helplessly beneath her.
Then, as though some magic spell had been wound over her, Ruby reached down, grasped Polly's shoulders and pulled her up until she was lying on top of her; their lips met as her full white body writhed hotly against Ruby's golden breasts and belly, their pubic mounds grinding slowly together, the soft curly fleece tangling gently with the deeper red.
Polly ground down against her for a moment and then with a deep, throaty sigh slithered around on top of her. Her fingers pressed gently outwards against the soft, tender lips of her cunt, exposing the now eagerly palpitating clitoris to her greedy eyes. She moaned again and dropped her head down between Ruby's open thighs, sucking the tiny throbbing bud strongly into her mouth.
Ruby held her breath from the strange and bizarre sensation of another woman's lips touching her there in her most intimate places, so blissfully, and she could feel the rising flames of her lust begin to lick slowly within her titillated genitalia. Without thinking, she reached up; and, clasping Polly's slowly gyrating buttocks, drew them down eagerly over her face and began softly sucking and licking the salty, sweet center of the other girl's loins. Polly moaned as the tip of Ruby's probing tongue suddenly broke through the outer barrier and slipped wetly up inside the pulsating walls of her cunt. Ruby could feel the girl's movements over her become more desperate with each movement of her tongue in that teasing torture. Then, suddenly, but gently, it was over for both of them. Polly emitted a low, passionate groan from deep inside her throat and Ruby could feel the wetness of her womanly juices flooding down over her cheeks. A moment later, she felt a long, easy flush of fire ripple from deep inside her cervix and burst like a dam broken inside her, flooding her senses with intense, thrilling sensations and carrying her to the towering peaks of the ultimate ecstasy of orgasm.
13
Faithful to her promise, Polly kept her word and helped Ruby make her initial steps as a professional in the business of the flesh. The next day she contacted Rose Mattela, a senior pro who had extended her range of action beyond prostitution, which she still practiced herself, to an ev-er-expanding activity of procuring for a reasonable percentage of the profits plus the compulsory tip she charged to the men to whom she supplied women for the asking. She was building her nest's egg for the time-that will come in the very near future when not even her "old-faithfuls" as she would call her steady customers, some of which she had serviced for five, ten and even fifteen years, would find their way to her door. An old whore has to dance the tight rope and agree to whatever revolting idea a customer would have to get his kicks and would find a young pro to go through with it, or starve. The girls saw her like an institution in their business.
"Look, kid," Ruby could hear Rose saying through her thoughts. "Just play it cool. Those guys aren't exactly in the prime of life, so if we play around a bit and wear'em out, .they'll be already so stoned they won't be good for more than one time around. Okay?"
Ruby nodded her head in agreement and Rose took them in a cab to the hotel she had mentioned earlier. They rented two adjoining rooms and they all moved into one of them. Maurice, the guy that had taken a liking to Ruby, had a bottle of Gin and ran down for some ice. Ruby drank hers quickly in spite of her disapproving look from Rose when the men had prepared the drinks. She had to have some kind of fortification if she were going to go through with this ordeal. Making love in private, to a guy she liked, was one thing, but with other people watching, that was something different Maurice was delighted to see her drinking so heavily.
"Hey, I think I got a hot one here, ole' buddy!" He said loudly to the other reddy-complexioned man. "Look at her swallow that stuff down."
It felt good and she quickly drank another, feeling her inhibitions lessening with each further drink. The men were delighted and it wasn't long before they were stripping the girls off their clothing and pulling their own off at the same time. By this time, Ruby was feeling no pain. The alcohol had done its job and she shifted her position with each further piece of clothing that Maurice stripped from her to aid his fumbling hands. She watched from the corner of her eye as the man with Rose peeled her clothes from her body at the same time. She was surprised to see that the old 'pro' was still built so solidly and well after all the time she had been in the 'business.' She was well rounded and firm in all the 'critical' spots and did not sag at all like some of the strippers Ruby had seen in the club Chuck had taken her to.
When Ruby was completely naked, Maurice pushed her to one of the single beds and she let herself fall back without resistance into the softness of the mattress while he finished stripping his own remaining clothing away.
She looked to the other bed and gasped slightly to see that the other man had wasted no time. He had pried Rose's willing legs open and was poised on his hands over her body. His long thick cock hanging down between them caused Ruby to shift her body nervously down against the mattress. She had never seen one so huge. It was absolutely monstrous and she was glad Maurice had chosen her tonight. She didn't know if she could have taken the other man inside her without having been split wide open. Maurice joined her on the bed and curled his arms around her, pulling her close to him.
"Let's watch old Bill give it to your girlfriend first, shall we baby?" Maurice proposed lustily.
Ruby nodded her head, feeling his hand close over her breast. She was surprised to see suddenly how nice it felt to be with this complete stranger.
"Ooooooohhhh, Chief, take it easy ... ! " Rose groaned as Ruby saw the huge, thick rod of flesh sliding slowly down into her girlfriend's vagina. She gasped as she watched the tight pink lips of her cunt being stretched wide, wide apart and Rose kicking her legs out wider to open her loins more for the giant entry. It stopped for a moment, about half-way in, as though it could force its way no farther and Ruby held her breath, squirming her body back against the man lying next to her in her sudden excitement at the wild but captivating sight going on right next to them. Faraway memories of the bull in the pen flickered through her mind as she saw suddenly the back muscles of the man fucking Rose get tense, and a hoarse moan of passion ripple from deep inside his chest. Then with one mighty lunge he speared his blushed rod of flesh all the way down to the thick pulsating base between the widespread legs of the quivering girl beneath him.
"Ooooooohhhh!! ! ! " Ruby groaned, and her legs splayed out wide on either side of the man's body. Her feet quivered out in the air over the edge of the bed, her toes curling and uncurling without control. His balls smacked sharply against the tiny puckered hole of her anus. She screamed softly, the sound fummled by his shoulder pressing into her mouth. Ruby's eyes gaped open wide as the man began a slow thrusting. in-and-out movement, a soft, wet, sucking sound drifting across the distance from their moist sexual coupling. She found herself clenching her own thighs, tightly together, in a vain attempt to still the slow, but quickening throbs that were beginning deep in her own belly. The man behind her pressed closer into her back and she could feel his hard, pulsating flesh growing between the soft warm cheeks of her buttocks. His hands were around in front of her now and cupping the full resilient mounds of her pulsating breasts. He had the tiny, bud-like nipples rolled softly between his thumb and forefinger and was tweaking them gently in rhythm to the movements of the man fucking her girlfriend on the squeaking bed next to them. Her body trembled and quivered as she felt him begin to move behind her, insinuating the hardness of his cock slowly along the flaccid crevice of her buttocks and up between her thighs from behind. It was a strange, almost unreal sensation to feel the thick shaft of flesh crawling like an unseen snake between her tightly pressed legs.
"Relax, baby, and open them ... " The man whispered into her ear as she kept her eyes straight ahead, locked on the lewd spectacle taking place in front of her. The man fucking Rose had increased his speed to an almost desperate rate now and Ruby could see with a vivid, sensual clarity, the tight pink lips clasped tightly around his cock as they pulled out with his withdrawal as though they didn't want to let go of the magic plunging instrument and then as they disappeared fleshily inside again with each hard, almost brutal in-stroke. The thin, black forest of her pubic hair was wet and matted between her legs from the moisture of the juices flowing between her legs and the man's cock glistened wet and sensuously from the light of the single uncovered bulb hanging from the ceiling of the cheap hotel room.
Ruby trembled again and her body felt hot and uncomfortable as though she itched from head to foot and could not control the movements of her buttocks and pelvis that squirmed and writhed back against the hot, fleshy belly of the man teasing her from behind.
"Crawl up on your knees, baby." He said hotly through the mass of long, blonde hair pressed against her face. And Ruby did, quickly and with relief. She was beyond all control now and had to have something inside her or she would go completely out of her mind.
She moved quickly, rolling on her stomach and rising on all fours, making certain her head was pointed toward the lewd, writhing bodies entwined like snakes on the bed next to them. The man moved around behind her and rose up to kneel between her thighs, pushing them open wide with his own knees to allow him to move tight up to the naked plane of her white, soft buttocks waving invitingly back at him.
There were no preliminaries, and none were needed. The whole of Ruby's loins were wet and open now from the sensual impact of watching the other couple's violent intercourse on the next bed. The man shuffled forward behind her and with both hands kneading and cupping the twin ivory globes of her buttocks, spread them wide apart. She groaned in uncontrollable impatience and, thrusting her hand down underneath her body between her wide-spread legs, she grasped the thickness of his cock and guided the giant pulsating head straight toward the open wet lips of her cunt. She moved it up and down quickly in the warm, pink slit between her thighs, parting the soft curly pubic hair' that covered the tender, protective folds of flesh. Then she screwed her buttocks back on it to impale herself on the first full inch of steaming blood-filled flesh. She groaned and pleaded, as she knelt before the utter stranger who had bought her body for the evening pleasure, like a demented nymphomaniac. The hot licking fire roaring between her wet throbbing loins had to be quenched.
"God, what an ass," she heard the man behind her mumbling crazily to himself. And then she went mad with the cruel, uncontrollable desire licking through her.
"Go on! Go on! Fuck me ... Ooooohhhh ... fuck me like he's doing it to her ... " Her eyes were still glued smokily to the long, thick shaft of flesh burying itself in hard, deep thrusts between Rose's jerking thighs.
"Aaaaagggghh!! " she screamed, both in pain and relief, as the man behind her suddenly rammed forward with all his strength and plunged his rigid cock far, far up into her quivering belly. She could feel the flesh of the inside of her cunt being pushed in giant, flaccid waves before the tunneling entrance of the monstrous instrument plunging mercilessly deep up inside her.
"Ooooohhh, baby, you got a tight little pussy," the man droned behind her as, without waiting, he began a series of long, hard strokes into her kneeling body that caused her breasts to dance and jiggle beneath her chest. She grunted and churned back against him with each hard, driving lunge, her face contorted into a strained mask of undisguised passion that matched the wet, sucking sounds that came from behind her wildly squirming buttocks.
It took but a moment until she felt herself erupting inside like a giant explosion rolling across the earth. At the same time, she could feel his hot, white sperm flowing into the deep recesses of her belly, filling her womb almost to the bursting point. The ruddy-skinned man fucking Rose suddenly groaned out too, and Ruby, still throbbing out her own passion around the spurting rod of flesh sunk deep in her own belly, could see him sink his huge cock deep down between Rose's legs and his buttocks began jerking as though they were attached to an electric wire. Thick rivulets of white, sticky cum bubbled out around his tight, flesh-clasped instrument and rolled down Rose's buttocks to the sheet below.
It ended for all of them at the same wild, instantaneous moment and Ruby jerked forward and fell flat down on her stomach, dragging the still connected man who had fucked her from behind down with her. She could still feel slight dribbles of sperm emptying into her from his deflating penis, though his arms and body lay lifeless and limp on top of her back.
... Later, the girls dressed and left the men passed out on the bed. Ruby felt terrible about the way she had let her body run away with her with that stranger who had paid her for her services, thereby labeling her a prostitute. She tried not to show it to Rose and accepted silently the additional meals she collected for their "kickback" when they left the hotel.
She waved goodbye to Rose at the entrance to the hotel and took a taxi. One thing she made up her mind to do, even though she knew it would be hard, and that was to tell Eddie what had happened. She was certain to find out since Rose would undoubtedly mention it to someone he knew. She just hoped against hope, that she wouldn't mention the fact that Ruby had actually let herself get carried way. She could never as long as she lived, admit Eddie that she had enjoyed it with a total stranger that way.
14
For more than three months Ruby kept that arrangement that Polly had made for her and Rose proved to be an excellent source of customers. She would give the young beginner all the benefit of her experienced advice and kept funneling such an amount of men over to her place that in a short while things were flourishing for Ruby and Eddie. They moved together to a very nice apartment where they had two bedrooms, so Eddie could remain in one while Ruby serviced a client in the other easily without the customer's knowledge. This way she felt more reassured. Knowing that Eddie was there, at a few steps distance from her, mitigated Ruby's ev-er-present fear of finding herself in front of another adept of violence with whom she could do nothing except submit herself to whatever bizarre torture he would conceive in order to get his sickening sexual pleasures. The two of them found this arrangement to be excellent to suit their needs, but they did everything they could to keep it in secret, for they both knew that Polly still carried a torch for Eddie, and it wasn't advisable to provoke the rage of a deserted whore ... Ruby had realized, for a long time, that Eddie's relationship with Polly had not been as platonic as he had pretended in the beginning. Once he had admitted to her that he used to live in Polly's apartment for a while but he had moved on his own because he said he couldn't stand the fact that he had to leave the premises whenever a customer would come, but Polly refused to move from the crummy studio in which she lived at that time and he just moved one day "that he got sick and tired of it all ... "
No one had told her, but by simple logic Ruby had concluded that Eddie had been Polly's pimp for quite a while. He had never held a job in his life, his parents have been dead for many years and he kept no contact with any relative of his, none of whom helped him pay his bills. Nevertheless, Eddie Roman had always lived like a dandy ... Even after he "got sick and tired and moved out of Polly's place" it was obvious that he kept receiving money from her....
He had told Ruby that he'd left her completely, and he wasn't seeing her at all for quite a while. That the last time he'd seen her had been a couple of weeks before Ruby had made Polly a visit and the two girls had been so intimate with each other....
But Ruby strongly suspected that he wasn't telling her the truth....
After that three-months impasse during which Rose had kept the customers flowing in and out of Ruby's bed and Eddie had been so nice and good with her and the two of them had lived in peace there, the storm-as usual-had followed the period of calm: one day, she never knew why or how, Polly got the idea of paying Ruby a friendly and unexpected visit in her new address. Eddie had opened the door for her and When she saw him there, unshaven and wearing a bathrobe, it wasn't necessary that he gave any explanation. They argued, and Ruby found out. painfully, that her suspicions were true, and her Eddie had gone quite frequently to Polly's place, where he usually had sex with her and pick up his percentage of the girl's hard-earned dough.
On his part, Eddie realized that he'd lost a sizable chunk of his personal income from his moonlighting as Polly's part-time pimp, and Polly took good care that he'd get very clear in his mind the fact that money wasn't coming from her to him anymore. So, he couldn't lose Ruby's supply or he'd find himself out in the could.'. .
Therefore, when Polly left and Ruby reproached him bitterly for his deception and even mentioned that she should do now what took so long for Polly to do: leave him and not give him one more cent. Then the young and rather inexperienced kept-man got terrified at the idea of losing his only source of income left ... He got in a convulsive rage and said he'll soon murder the two of them.
He hated both women bitterly for their having even mentioned the money they'd given him. Typical among all pimps, he was complexed about a manhood he had degraded, and tried to assert his virility every day by proving his muscular strength surpassed hers, by beating her brutally. "I have been too good with trash like you two!" He shouted frantically as he beat Ruby with open hands. "You'll do as I say or I'll kill you! You hear me?" He threatened, then his clenched fists pounded again and again over Ruby's tortured body. "So be sure you go out and bring me enough dough or I'll break your damned neck, you fucking whore, you good-for-nothing bitch!"
Now with Polly against her, Ruby lost Rose's facilities and support, so now she had to go to the street and pick-up her own clients. "Get into a bar where you see men alone." Eddie had told her, and so she went.
At first Ruby felt nervous; she was reluctant to enter a bar alone for the first time in her life. Nearing the neon-lighted club, she glanced at the doorman who looked her up and down appreciatively and then walked past, her courage failing her. She was afraid to enter and afraid not to, knowing how angry Eddie would be if she returned empty-handed. She walked around the block and stopped for a cup of. coffee. Finally, deciding that she couldn't put it off any longer, she left, walked determinedly to the club and, clutching her purse with nervous fingers and holding her head high, marched through the door which was swept open by the grinning uniformed doorman.
Inside, she paused in the small foyer which was higher than the rest of the ceiling and looked down the short flight of steps. To the right there was a bar and beyond were several dozen tables with a spot-lighted piano at the far end, set on a small platform and being played by an anemic-looking young man who was moaning something about his woman who had left him for a Cadillac. Feeling lost and very conspicuous, Ruby looked around and wondered what to do, but then spotted an empty stool at the bar and walked down the steps and over to it
When she sat down, a man standing next to her turned around, glanced over his shoulder to see if she was alone or not and asked her if he could buy her a drink. He was short and fat, and his bald head glistened in the dim light; on his nose there was a wart with long black hairs growing out of it Ruby found him absolutely repulsive, but she already knew she couldn't be choosy.
She said she'd like a Scotch. When he leaned toward her, making idle chatter while his beady eyes appraised her, he smell of his foul breath almost toppled her off her chair. "My Gosh!" She thought What can I do now? I can't possibly get laid by this man!" As he talked and became more openly insinuating, she wished she'd had more experience and wondered frantically how to get rid of him. She glanced around to see if there were any better prospects, but all the other men at the bar seemed to be accompanied by women. Shivering at the thought of his hands on her naked body, she decided she couldn't possibly do it no matter how much money he could pay. He asked her if she was busy the rest of the evening. She stammered that she had a late date, and had only stopped in for a drink before hand and will have to leave already. Gathering up her gloves and purse, she murmured her thanks for the drink and quickly walked away.
Outside, she breathed the clean, fresh air and debated where to go next. She was afraid to go back to Eddie too soon and without any money, so she started pacing down the street, planning to stop at another bar and there perhaps she'd have a better luck. She passed one bar after another; something seemed wrong with all of them. She was beginning to wish she had taken up the man back at the Club, just to get it over with so she could go home, when she heard a soft voice behind her. She looked over her shoulder; it was the short, plumpy man from the nightclub.
"Pardon me," he said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like another drink?"
"No, thanks," She said, despite her thoughts.
"I can make it worth your while." They walked along together for a few minutes, as he talked to her, a bit haltingly.
Ruby sighed. Although the man was still as repulsive as ever, she decided that he would be better than nothing, for it was growing late.
"Okay," she said wearily, wondering how much to ask for. "It'll be fifty."
He nodded his head; and she wished she had asked for more, she was sure he would have paid whatever she would have asked from him.
They went to the hotel Eddie had pointed out, rented a room and went up without speaking. The man counted out the fifty in ten dollar bills and handed them to her. She shoved them in her purse and they both began to undress, still without speaking. "Well," she thought, "if he's not going to say anything, I'll be damned if I will!"
When she had undressed, she laid down on the bed and unenthusiastically watched him. He had hung his coat and shirt over the back of the chair and was now carefully laying his trousers on the seat, making sure the creases were straight. As she had expected, his body was as fat as his face, with rolls of pale, pasty dough-like flesh hanging limply around his waist and a tiny prick dangling In a sparse black nest of hair. Her whole body felt could. She looked down and saw she was covered with goose pimples. The man walked over to the bed and looked silently down at her. She stared back without saying anything, but finally managed to smile weakly.
"Kiss my ear," he said coldly, "it's the only way I can get an erection," then he laid down beside her without even touching her.
She almost burst out laughing with surprise. Turning on her side, she began caressing his ear, running her tongue slowly along the grooves and swirls, sucking the lobe and kissing it with her wet lips.
"Harder," he said unemotionally.
"Okay," Ruby thought to herself, "you asked for it," And she began viciously chewing and twisting his ear with her teeth until she thought she would tear it off. He was grunting and groaning, but whether it was from ecstasy or from pain, Ruby couldn't tell; and she couldn't care less. She sank her sharp, white teeth deeper into his earlobe and ran her tongue wetly inside. Glancing down through her long, silky hair covering both their faces, she almost fainted in shocked surprise. Sticking up from his groin, like a giant marble rod was' one of the biggest cocks she had ever seen. For the first time since she had met him, she began to get excited and wished he'd start making love to her right away; he already had a mighty powerful erection.
The man suddenly wrenched his head away, rolled over and straddled her, his buttocks on her belly, and bent over to lick wetly the hollow between her full, white breasts. With his hands cupping the quivering, resilient mounds, he squeezed them together until the two red, hardened buds of her nipples were side by side. He thrust his loins forward, pressing the full length of his giant cock up the tight tunnel between, rocking back and forth so it slid up and down the saliva-moistened groove. Seeing its tip appearing and disappearing between her tightly compressed breasts, Ruby felt the familiar juices of lust begin to flow down between her legs. The man took her hands and made her hold her tits tightly together while he reached behind him and began to finger her vagina with hard brutal thrusts. And . . just as the tension inside her was about to break, he slid down and thrust his huge, pulsating cock hard up her throbbing and now hungry cunt. Her muscles contracted violently around his powerful driving organ and she bucked under him as he ground down into her from on top of her writhing body.
"Bite my ear, bite my ear, I tell you!" he chanted down into her hair.
She seized the fleshy lobe between her teeth and furiously sucked and chewed, feeling his pelvis smack against hers harder and harder until, with one quick gasp from his lips, he emptied himself completely inside her. She jerked for a moment trying to reach her own completeness, but it was useless. He was dead inside her and rolled limply off her squirming body, withdrawing his deflated prick with a noisy sucking sound. She clenched her fists tightly together to drive back her disappointment. She overcame it quickly and got up, went to the bathroom to finished herself up, with her own fingers.
The man was still lying on the bed when she came out.
"Can't you stay any longer?" He asked hopefully.
"No, I'm afraid I've to go now." She answered, remembering Polly's advice to get out quickly when a guy had finished with her the first time. She dressed quickly while he watched her and left just as he started to get out of bed.
It hadn't been quite as bad as she thought it would be, she thought to herself as she went down the stairs toward the street. Now, she would head directly for home-and Eddie! She sighed with relief.
15
She walked away from the hotel and looked for a taxi. As she rounded a corner, She collided with a man who was walking hurriedly, head bent. He stepped back, murmured a quick "Pardon me," and started to pass, when he suddenly shouted, "Ruby! Ruby!" and grabbed her arm. "Ruby, how wonderful to see you again!"
Not recognizing him at first, she stared blankly at his lean body and wide, happy smile. Then she realized this was the guy who had picked her up on the road, that day which seemed years ago, when she had left her native small town, heading for the big alluring city. "What was his name? Oh, yes, Bert." She remembered now." Bert!
"Bert!" she said and kissed him joyously. "What are you doing in New York?" She was delighted to see him.
"Up over the weekend from college," he said. "I've been trying to find you all over. I had your old address, but they said you'd moved."
"Yes, just a couple of days ago." She replied.
"Come on. Let's get a drink. This needs celebrating." He steered her into a nearby car, his face radiating the pleasure he felt at having her again. "What a piece of luck to run into you, baby! I'd almost given it up."
They sat down in a bar and ordered drinks.
"How's everything with you?" Ruby said.
"Oh, just fine. What are you doing these days?" He asked.
"I ... " she hesitated. "I gave up my old job and am looking for a new one right now." The excitement of seeing Bert again had whirled her back to the innocent days of her life in her home town and she had almost forgotten what she had been doing, just fifteen minutes before. At the thought of how much she had changed since she left Stetson City and how far she had gone on a doubtful road, she became somewhat panic-stricken. Bert had been the first man to possess her lovely body and for nothing in the world did she want him to find out what she had become since.
"Didn't you like your old one?" He said casually.
At first, she didn't understand, so deeply she was plunged in her thoughts, then she understood he was referring to her apartment. "Not particularly," she managed to keep her voice steady. "But I suppose I should have waited until I'd found another one-I'm getting kind of low, in cash, that is," she lied.
"Look, can I help you out, Ruby?" He said eagerly. "Really, I'd love to lend you some money."
"No, that isn't necessary, Bert, but thanks, anyway."
"Come on, Ruby, not with me!" Bert reached into his pocket and got out his wallet. "Here, take thirty. Please. I wish I had more to give you, baby."
"Well, okay. Thanks." She took the bills and stuffed them into her purse. She had long wanted to buy Eddie a present She decided it would be better to steer the conversation away from how she spent her time. "How's eoDege, Bert?"
"Okay. I'm almost through, you know. Just a few more months."
"Then what?"
"I thought I might come to New York and get a job. Are you planning on staying here, Ruby."
"Yes, I guess so."
"The big city suits you fine. You look wonderful, Ruby-and a lot older."
She laughed. "You mean I've aged that much?"
Bert blushed in confusion. "No. No. I didn't mean that! Just that you look so cityfied and sophisticated since the last time I saw you. Then, you were beautiful, that's right, but so innocent, girlish. Now, you're ... you're fabulous!" He looked admiringly at her bare shoulders rising like a pale flower above the sheer black dress.
Ruby laughed again. "You mean I wasn't before?" She said teasingly.
Bert became embarrassed. "You know what I mean. Simply right now you are just the most beautiful thing ever!"
He gazed at her, open admiration in his eyes; they reminded her, misty behind the lenses, of a puppy begging for food, pleading and hopeful. More accustomed to the hard, cynical talk and lusty admiration of the men she had met since she had come to New York, she found his boyish confusion and awkward attempts to compliment her most appealing, although somewhat embarrassing. She remembered how experienced and mature he had seemed to her that day when he had possessed her on the harsh ground, and deflowered her. A momentary twinge of guilt stirred in her heart as she suddenly thought of all the past, brought back by this chance meeting with Bert; of her parents back there in Stetson City. How much she had deceived them, maybe even herself! But she felt happy again as she thought of Eddie and how exciting her new life was, a life she wouldn't trade for any other. She suddenly felt years older than Bert.
"Dear Bert," she said and took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "You're so sweet ... You are a nice boy!"
He looked disappointed. "Is that all you think of me, Ruby? You felt different about it when we first met. Remember?! " Then, you considered me a big man, a man capable of ... " He didn't finish his phrase, letting her complete it in her mind.
"Oh, you're impossible," she laughed. "I guess I've just changed. My life back home seems so far away."
"Ruby, I do hope we can see each other a lot when I come to New York," He said hopefully.
She immediately became weary and evasive. "Well, probably. But I'll have a Job then and I'll be a lot busier, you know."
"And so will I-but I'll never be too busy to see you, baby." Unlike Eddie's pok-er-face, Bert's betrayed every flicker of his feelings, and now it was hopeful and pleading again. "Where are you staying? I may not be able to come here again before I finish school, but I'd like to write to you."
"Well, that's a bit difficult." Under no circumstances did she want him to find out she was living with Eddie. "I'm staying at a hotel right now, but hope to find an apartment. I'll tell you what, the best thing to do is to write to me at my aunt's."
"Okay. Just so I can find you whenever I come back, without having to bump into every female m New York!"
Someone stuck a quarter in the juke-box and a swingy ballad pulsed out.
'Want to dance?" he said.
"Where?" Ruby looked around. Although the bar was almost empty, there was hardly any floor space.
"There's room between the tables. Come on." He got up and helped her to her feet
Even in high heels, the top of her head came only just to his mouth. At first, he seemed ill-at-ease, and held her practically at arm's length, as though she were so fragile she would break if he pressed her too hard against him. This amused her and she snuggled up against him until they were both swaying slowly to the music, body against body, his head bent, his nose and lips nuzzling in her hair.
"You smell so nice," he murmured. "Your smell used to be fresh as a spring meadow, but now it's different, it goes to my head like liquor ... "
She knew he wanted her, but her new aspect made him shy to make any open advances for fear of being rejected. However, after her frustration with the fat man, she needed physical release. As She felt his young virility taut through the rough tweed of his trousers, her desires rose again, more violent than ever. She wanted a man, desperately. She needed to be fulfilled, to reach those marvelous heights of pleasure of which her disgusting first client had robbed her. And Bert was here, ready; his urgency vividly present and showing in the painful throbbing of his male organ against the tight material of his pants.
So, she rubbed her body up against his like a purring cat; her breasts, smashed against his chest, became hard, the nipples turgid and aching. Between the soft masses of her thighs, she felt his kg moving slowly and insistently, pressed strongly along the lips of her cunt while the turgid lump of his erection jutted into the soft flesh of her belly.
"Ruby, Ruby," he breathed in her ear, "I love you so!" As they danced together, their bodies fitting into each other, lust rose within her to spread the dull ache emanating from her groin throughout her limbs until her whole body was hot trembling with desire and passion. He, too, was now breathing heavily, his muscles as tense as a hard coiling spring.
"Let's go to my hotel" he whispered in her ear, sure that she would accept
They left and found a taxi. The door had no sooner slammed closed than he crushed her in his arms and their lips met in a long, mellow kiss and their tongues sucked the honeyed juices of each other's mouths. Oblivious to the motions of the jolting taxi, of the screeching halts for stop-lights, they remained clasped together, searching for the treasures of their lips and mouth, insatiable and without pause until the taxi jarred to a stop and a dry ironical voice said: "Here we are, you love birds."
Blindly they climbed out. Bert paid the man mumbling a quick "Keep the change." Then they started for the entrance of the hotel, not caring about the mocking laughter of the driver.
16
When they reached Bert's room, Ruby looked around and noticed a few of his clothes scattered about. She didn't dare meet his eyes which she felt fixed intensely upon her. Strangely, he made her feel like a young, innocent virgin again.
"Oh, Ruby, Ruby!" he murmured raucously as he walked toward her. He picked her up and carried her over to a large chair. He sat down, holding her on his lap. With his fingers, he slowly traced the arch of her eyebrows, the hollow of her cheek, then ran it softly over the gentle pout of her lips. She took one of his fingers between her teeth and gently bit the tip while they looked deeply into the bottomless depths of each other's eyes, seeing reflected their mutual lust and desire.
Bert brushed his hand down the thick mane of her hair and drew her head down; his lips kissed the fragile shells of her closed lids and whispered over her nose and cheeks to her lips, nibbling the smooth fragrant flesh, following the sweet of her hairline to the nape of her neck. Her head bent, his fingers ran lightly down the curve of her spine until they touched her low-cut dress and, as she straightened up, followed the black demarcation around to her breasts which swelled softly over the top of the material. He kissed the hollow of her neck, quietly, while his other hand strayed lightly up her leg, stroking the firm curves until it reached the full softness of her thighs and the barrier of her panties.
"Just a second," she murmured and got up.
Reaching behind, she unzipped the top of her dress with its built-in brassiere so that it fell away from her suddenly, revealing in one sweep the full lushness of her torso which rose well above her slip, glowing pinkly. Through the transparent silkiness of her slip, her legs rose lean and long; the stockings, a dusty tan over the tawny skin, moulding smoothly and tautly the upward curves, marking the middle of her thighs with a thin, dark line, the flesh above wedged upward.
Bert watched her mutely, his hands clenched together, beads of perspiration forming on his upper lip and forehead. like a blooming flower, she stood before him, her hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders, framing the oval beauty of her face. A lock strayed down over one breast, its swaying gracefulness accentuating the firm upward piles of her breasts, whose rigid tips glowed dully like two Wild berries. She put her fingers under the elastic of her slip and began to slide it down, wriggling her hips as she did so. Bert leaped out of his chair and ran over to her, saying raucously: "Let me do it, baby. Let me!"
He knelt before her, his head on level with her waist, and looked at the fine texture of her skin, the flat planes of her sides which leveled down to the black of her slip. He looked up and saw her breasts, small and firm, jutting outward like two ripe oranges. But he did not touch her inviting nude flesh. Instead, he carefully put his hands on the smooth, silky material, hooking a finger under the elastic band, and slowly drew it downward, thus inch by inch uncovering to his admiring gaze the swelling fullness of her hips, round and resilient under the flimsy panties, and the rise of her pubic mound richly covered with an umbrage of soft, curly hair. Her slip lying in a pool around her feet, he drew off her panties with the same slow, studied care, and unhooked her stockings and gart-er-belt, peeling the hose down one by one between his two bands, feeling the slippery stuff give way to the warm, resilient flesh of her thighs and calves. Finally, she stepped out of her shoes, and stood before him completely naked, silent before his intense gaze, her body quivering with anticipation.
Controlling his impatience, Bert reached up and touched her, his fingers running like gentle spiders over her body, as though he had to find and to know every hair, every pore, savor every curve and hollow, every drop of perspiration, memorize her entire body, so he could store it in his mind. So light were his fingers over her flesh she could scarcely feel them, but they were warm and scaring their touch felt like a slight shock of electricity which coursed through her limbs and made her feel completely alive. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, trembling uncontrollably. Through the entrance of her womanly passion, she felt the muted urge of the flesh, and the memory of their first lovemaking flickered through her mind.
Then, just as she thought she could no longer stand his teasing fingers, she felt his warm lips on her stomach and then lower down at the juncture of her thighs. She put her hands on the back of his head and pressed it against her, murmuring: "Yes, yes ... Oh, darling, kiss me there!"
His lips found the ridges of pink flesh embedded in the circling hedge of silky curls and his tongue dipped into the soft cleft between, which he licked and sucked deeply, tasting the pungent liquor of her seeping passion. Clasping his head, which was glued to her loins like a leech, her head fell forward, her hair curtaining her quivering breasts and, moaning softly, she rocked and swayed as the agony of pleasure burned brighter within her until the final ecstasy made her whole body leap and shiver in a paroxysm of bliss, and she doubled over and fell on top if him, her still contracting pelvis rolling on his s ulder.
He put his arms around her buttocks, balanced her on his shoulder got up and carried her over to the bed who e he laid her gently down. Then he undressed quickly snapped out the light and laid down beside her. Through the half-open slats of the Venetian blinds, a neon light outside sent bars of pulsating, changing lights across the bed, bathing them in alternating darkness and slabs of rainbow colors.
Although his penis was hard and throbbed with readiness, he continued to explore her body, ever different in the changing light-as if he had not one passionate woman under his eager hands, but many, each more tantalizing than the other.
Now her full, flaccid breasts rose up in the crisscross of green light like sullen hills, their nipples hard and resilient like rubber. The soft cleft of the pubic hair covering the wetness of her loins looked teasingly devilish, mysterious and bewitched by the thin, moist trench of her vagina dividing it equally into two tiny thrilling triangles of soft down. Now the lights flashed to still a different color as she rolled over, turning under his inquisitive, fondling hands, her smooth rounded buttocks rising like two full moons, the crevice between them a dark path of sin leading down to the center of her sensual being. Bert could not stand the torturing wait any longer.
He dropped his hands to the mattress and slid them under her stomach and pulled up until she was crouching on her hands and knees. He knelt behind her, his long rigid cock nosing its way up between the upraised columns of her thighs which quivered in the light. As he rocked slowly back and forth behind her kneeling body, teasing the white softness of the flesh between her legs with the wet strength of his erection, he could feel her trembling under his hands.
He clasped her buttocks and pressed them apart gently so as not to break the magic of the lustful spell they were under. He pressed slowly forward and felt her hand beneath her body reach back and secretly enfold his hardness and guide it softly between the warm, tender lips of her cunt. The soft, sparse hair surrounding it grazed maddeningly against the sensitive bulbous head. Resting on her arms, she groaned softly, lowered her back and arched her hips in the air to expose the flowering entrance to his searching cock. Inch by inch he eased into the moist, secret tunnel, feeling the rings of muscles giving way to his slow but relentless pressure. The soft and contracting muscles relaxed momentarily as he pressed by them and then, without warning, would clamp violently back around him like tight slippery rubber. Ruby groaned as he suddenly touched bottom and he was fully imprisoned within her.
They held still for a moment, savoring the moist, delicious contact of their bodies and then, with the rhythm of the changing light streaming through the window, his hands guided her rotating hips and he slowly drew out, the movement making a wet, sucking noise of intercourse that incited their passions to even greater heights. She thrust her buttocks back and sucked him into her again, and now they stayed coupled together so that her body leaped and churned around the hardness of his cock as though she were a fish on the end of a spear.
"Now, darling, now!" She cried and with a sudden gigantic lunge, she exploded in her orgasm, tears of joy rolling from her cheeks. Bert groaned behind her and sinking his jerking cock deep up in her belly, poured forth his hot thick sperm in gush after gush of flowing passion.
Exhausted, they fell on their sides, still fused tightly together. They rested quietly for a few minutes and then he turned her on his penis until they were facing each other, their legs closely entwined. Their lips met in a timeless kiss and their hips and buttocks moved as their desire once more climbed to the crest and exploded. Afterwards, the throbbing muscles of her vagina squeezed him tightly, draining the last of his sperm from his satiated loins. Then, they fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
----------------------
Little Girl by William Spain
CHAPTER ONE
When a man devotes his entire life to the study of music he is apt to be lonely and sexually frustrated. Such a man was Mason Randolph.
The park was deserted this later autumn afternoon and the rain falling on the leaves scattered about the ground made a sound that was entirely unnoticed by the tall man wearing the black coat and the slouch hat which were by now thoroughly soaked and dripping. He moved slowly across the park toward a bench situated near the center of the park with the obvious intent of resting on it momentarily regardless of the falling water. A moment later he came to the bench and as he was about to seat himself, a female dog trotted by followed by a sniffing male. The tall man fastened his gaze on the animals and watched them as the female came to a halt near a bush. The male, despite the falling rain, attempted to mount the female, but the female was having no part of the offering and broke away with a rush, running off into the distance, the male following closely at her heels. The tall man sighed and sank down on the bench, his heart fluttering slightly, his imagination flaring up momentarily. The cold rain quickly diminished his imaginative soarings as he pulled his coat collar up tightly about his neck and briefly contemplated the leaden sky. The rain beating into his eyes forced him to lower his head and a moment later to wipe the water from his eyes, giving his head a shake as he did so.
Two young girls came running up the path toward him, but they apparently did not see him, for they paid no attention to his presence and continued on their way, giggling and shouting alternately, until they were lost from view. The man shifted about on the bench, swearing mildly, and finally got to his feet. It was too wet, too uncomfortable in the park. This was most unfortunate, for the park was one of his favorite places to be when he felt the strong urge running rampant through him. He moved away from the bench and walked slowly, his head held low, toward an exit on the opposite side of the park. When he arrived there, he stopped and looked up at the sky again. It was even more threatening now and he sighed again. He liked walking in the rain, but this was a bit too much. A mild rain was a beautiful thing when he felt the urge, but a downpour like this was overpowering and very much like taking a cold show-er-it depressed him. He held his coat collar tightly about his neck and glanced up and down the nearly deserted street. A car passed by occasionally, but traffic was at low ebb, possibly because of the downpour possibly because the rush hour had not yet arrived. He glanced across the street and saw a woman holding an umbrella over her head. Apparently, she was waiting for a bus or perhaps she was looking for a cab. He saw her glance in either direction repeatedly and he wished he had a car so he might offer her a ride. He wondered if the woman would accept a ride from a stranger. More than-likely she would not. Women were funny that way, regrettably so.
Mason Randolph moved along the street, keeping his eyes on the woman until she turned and disappeared into the interior of a nearby shop. She had been wearing a rather long raincoat and he had not seen her limbs very well, which was a sad thing indeed. Women's limbs were made to be seen by men, he felt, and rightly so. What a dismal world it would be if one could not, occasionally at least, catch sight of a woman's limbs if one could not speculate about what lay above the knees, high above the knees, what the look of it was, what the color of the hair would be. Would the flesh be firm and erotic-looking or would it be, heaven forbid, disgustingly flabby and sickening to the male imagination?
Mason walked halfway around the park, keeping to the sidewalk-the park was a square block in size-and when he came to First Street, crossed it and turned left. The rain had increased its intensity and he shivered from the coldness of it striking his face. It was but a short way to his apartment and he moved more rapidly now, wanting to escape the weather. When he came to the steps leading up the door of his place, he ascended them quickly and let himself inside. Once inside the hallway he carefully closed the door and locked it and went up another flight of stairs to another hall. Taking out the key to his apartment, he unlocked the door and entered.
As was his custom, he went immediately to the front window overlooking the street and glanced-down at the empty park. Not a person was in it and he cursed the heavy rain fervently. Sighing deeply, he went to his bedroom, removed his soaked garments, put on a dry pair of brief only and returned to the front room. His robe lay over a chair and he slipped into it quickly and returned to the window. The rain had let up considerably and immediately his spirits rose. A moment later he caught sight of something that raised his pulse rate enormously. The male dog had finally caught up with the female and was atop her, pumping his animal life into her. Mason glued his face to the windowpane and viewed the even rapturishly. The female moved slightly and the male followed with frantic speed, contact not having been broken. The Way the male hunched up his back and clung to that female with his front paws was a tremendously exciting thing to witness, Mason felt. He had not seen this sort of thing happening since boyhood and he recalled how fascinated he had been by it then. The female, however, moved again and this time she moved behind a bush, obscuring Mason's view of the happening. He cursed mildly and went to another window, but the result was the same-he could not see them well enough.
How wonderful, he mused, if a man could pump a woman in the park with the same lack of self-consciousness that a male dog employed. How delightful that would be. Why did the human world have to be so foolish; why did it insist that the greatest experience in life had to be done secretly, hidden away as if it were an unclean act, a thing to be regretted later, to be covered up with falsehood and shame?
As if in answer to his question, he murmured, "People are all right. It's only their teachers who are idiots."
* * *
The following day he arose from his bed early and went immediately-minus clothing-to the piano and practiced scales for a solid hour as was his habit. Mason was a concert pianist and, although this was the off-season, for the most part, he seldom allowed himself to discontinue the discipline of music. When he had finished, he dressed, after showering, and left the apartment to go to a restaurant for breakfast. He found a different one than he had been in the day before-Mason liked variety in some aspect of his life and this was one of them. He entered the small place-it looked inviting from the outside-and took a table near the rear. He deliberately sat on the side of the table from which vantage point he could watch the waitresses moving about the place. The waitresses seemed to be three in number and all were young. One in particular was quite pretty and he riveted his gaze on her, being much pleased when she, as good luck would have it, came to wait on him. When she came near, she smiled slightly and he took in her appearance somewhat in more definite detail. She was blonde, of average build, but her breasts were large and full, a delightful sight indeed. He smiled up at her as he placed his order and she thanked him and moved away. He watched her swaying buttocks and knew a moment of agitation.
"Lovely little thing," he murmured softly. "Very much so."
He took his customary walk after breakfast, looking, as he did, for new things to see, new streets to traverse, new faces to peer into, especially female ones. He turned to his right several blocks from the restaurant and moved at a moderate pace for several blocks. He spied an alley that was quite narrow and totally unfamiliar. He stopped in his tracks and studied the alley; a moment later he was half a block along it. When he passed a rather dilapidated doorway, he heard a soft whistling sound. It was too early in the day for the whores, so he turned his head and slowed up. A very young child, a female, stood in the doorway only three feet away. She could not have been more than twelve years old.
"Mister," she whispered, "wanna have a good time? Fifty cents."
His face blanched as he stared at the child. "What?" he mumbled.
"Suck you off for a dollar, mister."
He saw with shock that the child was thin and hungry-looking. Her long brown hair was not neat, her clothing was somewhat ragged. She looked at him steadily as though extremely wise to the world and to the world of grown men especially, with their wants and needs. Mason Randolph could scarcely believe his senses.
"Suck your prick for a dollar, mister ... please?" Her eyes were entreating him now.
His mouth gone dry, he wet his lips in shock, pulled forth his wallet and extracted a five-dollar bill which he threw toward her feet, then hurried away from the doorway, his heart threatening to leap into his throat. Back on the main street, he turned to his left and headed for his apartment on First Street, his insides churning so much he felt he might be sick before arriving at home. But he did not become ill; he entered his place with his stomach in quite good shape, enough so that he had a small drink immediately, though he had never been much of a person to imbibe. (Of late, he had been doing more and more of it; it helped to quiet the strong urgings in his loins.) The little bit of whiskey he swallowed appeared to settle him and he was thankful for it, but he couldn't erase from his mind the picture of the female child begging him to allow her to go down on him for a dollar. He should have given her more; money meant little to him and evidently much to the child. Even though the thought made him shudder, he could not help wondering what it would be like to be sucked by a mere child. He had no more than completed the imagining than he became hard and filled with a dark desire. He was sorely tempted to return to the alley and ... and what ?
Later, he found himself walking down the street that led to the alley. When he came to the alley itself he turned and walked swiftly along it until the doorway was only a few yards away. He paused and took a deep breath, then another. Holding his nerves in place, he moved forward, looking about him carefully to ascertain if anyone were watching. There was no one about though there were many people passing the entrance to the alley on the main street. Sucking in air again, he went to the doorway and peered in. Disappointment came over him, for the female child was not there. He swore softly and started to move away when he heard the sound of a door being opened. He stopped and turned about slightly, his lips parted. He saw her then. She looked at him strangely for a moment and, as the sly grin spread over her face, he almost panicked and ran. Somehow he held onto his feeling and returned her look.
"Thanks for the money, mister. You wanna see me, maybe?"
"Come with me, young lady," he heard himself say. "Follow. Don't walk with me. Understand? There will be much more money for you."
He strode away from the doorway and walked quickly all the way to the street, not daring to glance behind him to see if she were following. He thought he heard footsteps running and, as he turned into the main street out of the corner of his eye, he saw her following at a discreet distance.
Up the street he walked and across it to First Street where he increased his speed slightly but not too much, for he did not want the child to appear to be chasing him. When he came to his front steps, he went up them, pausing once to allow her to see him clearly, but not glancing back at her. It would never do to allow passers-by or neighbors (none of whom he really knew) to see him in the act of seemingly inviting the child into his place. There was a law, a drastic and severe one, against that sort of thing. He entered the hallway and took pains to leave the door ajar. Up the stairs he went, but slowly to give her time to catch up somewhat, though not all the way, and, stepping in front of his apartment, he unlocked the door, stepped within and closed the door partially. Mason waited for the sound of a child's footsteps on the stairs.
He heard the front door on the first floor being closed softly. He had to strain his ears to catch the sound of the footsteps on the stairs shortly afterward. The child was being discreet, careful, and this was good, Mason drew in a deep breath and stood nearer to the door, waiting. The footsteps came closer and he could tell that she was just outside the door. He made no move to open the door but merely pushed on it ever so little so that she might see the movement and know which apartment he was in. He listened intently and heard her take a step, saw the door being moved by her, saw her fingers on the edge of the door. And then she was inside the place, having closed the door softly behind her.
Mason moistened his lips. "Would you ... like something to eat, my dear?" What else could he have said?
The child shook her head and looked him straight in the eye. "No thanks. I didnt come here to eat, you know."
He stepped around her carefully and locked the door. "There now. That's better."
The child had not moved but continued to look at him as he moved nervously about the room. He felt impelled to have a drink and did so, gulping it down in a manner he had never done before. He tried unsuccessfully to bring up the matter of why he had asked her to follow him, but each time he wanted to do it the words stuck in his throat. He cursed himself silently for being a fool, for leaving himself open to all kinds of recriminations, legally and otherwise, but even this did not stick in his mind for long. Walking to the front window, in order to gather up control over his feelings and to give him time to settle down as well, he looked down on the park across the street. People were walking in every direction, some were seated and smoking, and others, one man at least, appeared to be sleeping while sitting upright. Mason sighed and turned about slowly, noting the child still had not moved.
"Why did you want me to come, mister?"
There it was-the all important question and it required an answer. "I felt ... sorry for you, I suppose. You looked hungry."
The girl moved now and came to the middle of the room. "That's why you gave me five dollars, mister?"
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment. His eyes darted up and down her slender body, noting the shabby dress again, the worn shoes, the torn short socks, the bruised, bare knees. Apparently, the child had fallen repeatedly, for her shins, also, were skinned up.
"How did you hurt yourself?" he heard himself ask.
She blinked her eyelids and he noted for the first time how very blue and innocent-looking her eyes were. "Hurt myself? I didn't hurt myself, mister."
Mason wanted another drink badly, but he knew he had better not take one. He could not handle liquor too well and, if he became high, he might make a complete fool of himself, and not just a partial one, which he could not help feeling he was doing. "I see," he mumbled, and instantly hated himself for it. Talking another deep breath, he squared his shoulders determinedly-this sort of thing often helped one to regain control over one's emotions, he knew. "I thought from the look of your knees you might have."
She moved toward him but only a little. "You said there would be a lot of money, mister."
"Yes. Yes, of course. Money is no object. I merely want to ... talk to you, my dear. You're very ... pretty."
"Am I?" Her eyes were wide, almost in wonder.
"Very pretty. And I ... am very lonely." He was astonished at this admission, for he had never before in his life spoken in this manner to anyone. His own feelings had always been bottled up tightly within him, and with the cork securely in place. He had found this to be the only manner in which he could successfully operate in the world of music. Keep the emotions, the inner feelings bottled up and allow them release only when giving a concert. This was his trade secret and it had always worked well for him. His career was highly successful; he had been acclaimed by the public and critics alike.
"Can I have a beer or something!? "
He stared at her, his jaw going slack. "I beg your pardon?"
She grinned. "It's okay. Lots of times I drink beer. Don't hurt me none. Don't drink much."
"My dear," he said slowly, "I don't have any beer. I never keep it about the place."
"You got a cigarette then?"
He nodded and pointed to a box of them on a table. "Help yourself. But aren't you a bit young to be.
"No," she said shortly. "No, I'm not."
She lighted a cigarette skillfully. Evidently, she smoked considerably. For an astonishing moment he wondered if perhaps she might be a dwarf. Examining her body quickly with his eyes, he knew this was absurd. She was certainly no dwarf but a little girl, a mere child. He doubted that she was even twelve years old.
"May I ask you something?" he ventured.
She inhaled the smoke and let it out in a rush. "Sure."
He moistened his lips. "How old are you, my dear?"
"I don't know. Fifteen, maybe. I never knew when I was born."
"You never knew when you were born?" he repeated after her.
"Nope. Why do you want to know that, mister?" She paused. "Thought you wanted me here to do something to you."
"I--er-do ... when I'm--er-ready for it, my dear. You must give me time."
"Okay. I got nothing else to do anyhow."
"Won't you please sit on the sofa?" he heard himself ask her.
She nodded, then ran to the sofa and seated herself, crossing one leg over the other and staring about the room. "Sure some place you got, mister. You must be rich." She lifted her feet onto the sofa and lay flat, never taking her gaze off him. "What's the matter, mister? Can't you get it hard?"
He answered quickly, too quickly. "It's not that. Nothing of the sort. It's just that. . . "
"You think I'm a kid and I shouldn't be doing this." The child laughed and he was forced to admit it was a happy sound.
"Something like that," he said cautiously. "I don't know how to begin. I'm at a loss. Perhaps," he added hastily, "you should leave. I'm not sure I should ... "
"Don't be afraid, mister."
A smile played about his lips. "I'm not afraid, my dear."
"Come over here, come where I am," she suggested. "Let me feel of it."
He was dismayed at this but found himself edging toward her. He stopped some three feet from her and looked down at her slim legs. "What a strange child vou are," he murmured. "How very odd."
She laughed again and again it was a happy sound to his ears. "I guess I seem that way to you, mister, but I'm not."
He had to know something before he proceeded. "Tell me, have you no parents?"
She ceased to laugh and frowned slightly. "Wish you wouldn't ask me questions. I don't like questions."
"I'm sorry."
She stuck her lower lip out in a most bewitching manner. It was not a pout but something similar. "That's okay. I'll tell you, mister. I don't have no parents. Never did have."
"Never?"
She rubbed her small, cute nose. "I don't guess so, mister. I never know 'em if I had 'e."
"You mean you're an orphan."
"Sure."
"I'm sorry," he said, hardly knowing what he meant by the remark. He wondered if she were lying about having no folk.
"Don't need to be. I get along okay."
"How do you ... how do you make enough money ... to keep from being ... hungry, you know what I mean?" He very much wanted to know this.
"I get along okay," she replied, ignoring his question in part. "You better come closer to me, mister. I can't feel of you if you're gonna stand way over there."
"Why do you want to do that?" he heard himself ask foolishly.
She squinted her eyes. "Don't you want me to do nothing, mister? Is that all you want to do ... talk?"
Perspiration was on his brow. "Iernot certain what I want."
"Want me to show mine to you, mister?"
He leaned forward, his eyes filled with a strange lust now. "Would you? I mean, would you, please?"
She laughed softly. "Sure I would, mister. Nothing like seeing a girl's cunt to get a guy going. I know that for sure."
"I beg your pardon," he said. "What did you say?"
The girl grinned. "I'll make it plainer, mister. There's nothing like seeing a wet cunt to get a guy going."
Mason was appalled for the moment. "I've never heard a young girl speak in this manner," he said. "You shock me."
The girl laughed. "How about you shocking me by sticking your cock up my cunt, mister?"
He felt his cheeks burning. How could a mere child bring herself to talk in this fashion to a man? "Do you generally speak so frankly?" he asked, his heart thumping.
"Yup. I do when I run across a guy that's tame."
"Tame? Whatever do you mean?"
She winked at him. "I mean you're tame. You want to fuck me but you're scared to get started at it."
Again he was appaled. He was also slightly irked by her words. "I assure you, my dear, that there is nothing tame about me. I'm quite ready to fuck you. All you have to do is to reveal your ... crevice to me. I shall avail myself of its potential immediately."
CHAPTER TWO
He watched with a mixture of feelings running wildly through him as she deftly pulled down her panties and revealed herself to his burning gaze. He was astonished at the look of it. There was on-Iv a little fuzz around it and no real hair at all. The little indentation looked like a pink penny balloon that has been blown up and pinched slightly between the fingers. She kept her legs together and he could see only this much of it, but it was a beautiful sight to Mason Randolph and the most exciting thing he had ever seen. She smiled up at him almost shyly and he returned the smile, though his was somewhat stiff and forced while hers was easy and relaxed.
"You are pretty," he murmured.
"You want to kiss me?" she asked. "Most men do."
He nodded but then, strangely enough, moved away from her. "What did you say?" he asked, hia heart thumpinng. "Did I understand you correctly, my dear?"
She appeared to ignore his question. "Am I too dirty, mister? Do you want me to wash myself first? Do you think I'm too dirty for a rich man like yourself to kiss?"
He did not think this at all but to give himself time to collect his thoughts, he nodded. "Please," he murmured. "The bathroom is over there. Would you. if you please?"
She bounced up from the sofa and ran laughingly to the door of the bathroom. "I'll wash up real clean, mister. You don't have to worry none. Honest."
"Thank you my dear." he said, and watched her nervously as she disappeared, still laughing, through the door. He sank down on a chair and ran his hands over his eyes. What had he gotten himself into? Had he taken leave of his senses to invite this child to his place? What on earth was the matter with him of late? He reached for the bottle and gulped down a generous portion of the whiskey, shuddering as it burned its way to his stomach. He wanted to retch.
"She's not fifteen," he muttered. "Can't be that old. Fifteen-years-olds would have hair around it." The picture of her lying on the sofa, her body exposed, came back to his mind and he felt his penis growing between his legs. He touched it, not knowing if he should be ashamed for having an urge for a child or if he should be pleased by it. Thoughts were whirling about in his mind recklessly, and he knew that when she returned, clean, to the room, he would without question seduce her. He tried to imagine what it would be like to thrust his penis into the hairless crecive. Immediately, he became much firmer and by the time she appeared naked in the doorway, he felt actual pain from the incessant throbbing of his piece.
"Hi mister," she called over to him. "I'm real clean now." The towel she was carrying was thrown away, somewhere out of his view, and she looked him straight in the eye as she approached, walking slowly. She wag maddeningly lovely to him and he swallowed with difficulty, the amount of saliva in his mouth being barely sufficient to do so. He tried to moisten his lips, but there was not enough moisture to do that, either. "What's the matter, mister? You scared of me?"
What an absurd question. Of course he was not afraid of her. a child. Why should he be? Nevertheless, his hands were trembling violently and he was forced to place them behind him so that she would not observe his agitation. "You're very pretty," he managed to say. Then: "How old did you say you were?"
"Gee. mister. I told you. I don't know. Why you wanna know that for? I'm big enough, so I'm old enough."
He moved away from her, going in the direction of the window. He felt his heart hammering violently and wanted to give it time to slow down a bit. His back was turned to her now and, when she came up behind him and placed her arms about his hips, he thought he was going to explode. Her fingers began to fumble with his zipper and he did not try to pull away from her. She was quite the expert at unzipping him and pulling him out. There was a certain deftness about her every move and, when he felt her small hand go about his erection, he could scarcely contain himself. Yanking his body away from hers both quickly and carefully, he moved away again and again she followed him.
"You're scared, ain't you, mister? You're afraid I'm gonna tell a cop or something "
"Y-Yes," he muttered. "Something like that. How do I know you won't?"
"I won't tell nobody, mister. I ain't nuts."
He turned about and studied her face, her eves, but there was nothing there to indicate she might be lying to him. His face was so grave that apparently it caused her to laugh.
"Boy. you sure are a funny guy." She held her hand over her mouth.
"I'm not," he reported. "I'm just. . .cartful."
She glanced down at his exposed Darts. "You got a nice one, mister. Want me to play with it, get you all hot and stuff?"
He shook his head nervously and for the first time noticed that her hair was very wet, that it hung down around her shoulders helt-er-skelter fashion, that it only partially covered her small, budding breasts. A strange thought flitted through his mind. Her breasts-they looked to be about the size of new, young apples. Green apples. Green apples hanging from the three. Should they be plucked now? His hand spread out now, he touched her breast, pulling his hand back immediately. His face had gone pale.
"What's the matter? You can rub 'em if you want to."
His voice was very hoarse now. "Come to the bedroom, my dear."
She nodded wordlessly and, taking his hand, allowed him to lead her to his bedroom. He closed the door and turned about. "Remove my trousers, little girl," he said huskily.
She was giggling. "Okay, mister. You just stand right there and don't move. I'll take all your clothes off for you. I like to do that." She sank to the floor and removed his shoes and socks. Then she unbuckled his belt and drew his trousers down over his feet. Off came his shirt under her deft maneuvering. This was followed by her removing his undershirt and shorts. Now he was as naked as she. He was startled when she again dropped to her knees and took his penis in her hand and kissed it, kissed it repeatedly, running her lips, her tongue over it, under it, and all around it, even taking it far into her mouth and actually applying suction to it. He became even harder if that were possible. She stopped her kissing madness and he tried desperately to suck in a sufficient quantity of air.
"Like that, mister?" she asked, looking up at him, one eye half-closed as if knowing that he liked it immensely but wanting to hear him admit it.
"Y-Yes. Continue ... would you?" His voice had changed into a hoarse rattle now.
"You're shaking all over," she said. "Lie down on the bed and I'll please you." She laughed. "Make you stop shaking, maybe."
He sank back on the bed, lying across it, his legs hanging down over the edge. He felt her push his legs farther apart, felt her slim body creep between them, felt her hands exploring his parts, felt his testicles being lifted gently and dropped again. Mason sighed and tried to control the shaking of his body, but he had to abandon this, for no good came of it. The more he tried to stop his shaking, the more he shook.
"If you wanna, you can squirt in my mouth, mister."
This shocked him. "Oh but you couldn't ... could you?"
"Sure I can. You just squirt when you're ready. I'll take all you can give, mister. I like it."
What an extraordinary child she was. She seemed like a thirty-year-old woman who was vastly experienced in the ways of sex. Of this he had no doubt. Her every move was that of an experienced woman of the world. How had she gotten this way so very young?
The very moment she lowered her head to his penis and took it into her small mouth, there came a loud knocking on the door of his apartment. The girl kept on with her act, but in panic he shoved her away from him and leaped wildly to his feet. As he did so, some sap squirted out of him and struck the bedsheet.
"Quick." he said, his face pale and drawn. "Go into the bathroom close the door and don't make a sound. I had forgotten he was coming today. My agent is at the door. Hurry. Be very quite. Don't even run water. Understand?" The words came tumbling out of his mouth like water over a waterfall.
The child nodded, her eyes Large and possibly frightened, and, as she ran to the door of the bathroom, he glanced about the room wildly. Seeing her clothing near the door, he scooped it up quickly and thrust it into her arms.
"Can you make him go away?" she whispered.
"Yes," he said, whispering also. "I'll get rid of him as fast as possible."
She giggled a little.
He placed his hand over her mouth and she stopped. "Don't do that," he said, frightened. "Don't giggle. Don't make any sound at all."
"Okay, mister." She closed the door softly and Mason grabbed up a robe, put it on, inspected the bed, and, seeing it was in tolerable condition, looking only as if he had slept in it and nothing more, he left the room.
He did not go to the door immediately but sought to pull himself together emotionally. When a full minute had passed, he felt sufficiently in control, went to the door and opened it.
"Hello, Harvey," he said, striving to keep agitation out of his tone.
The short, fat, bald man looked at him speculatively. "Say, you aren't getting sick, are you, Mason? You're as pale as a ghost." The agent stepped into the room and flung off his topcoat. "I'd better have the doctor check you out. You don't look well at all."
"Not necessary, Harvey. I'm fine."
The agent grinned, revealing two gold teeth. "You don't look it, Mason. You haven't been--er-drinking, have you?"
Mason drew himself up. "Certainly not. What do you mean by making such a remark. You know perfectly well I'm not a drinker."
The agent's eyes narrowed. "I can smell it. Something bothering you, Mason?"
Mason turned away from him. "The truth is, Harvey, I didn't sleep well last night and I'm rather out of sorts. I'd prefer you leave now and we can talk about the fall agenda later."
Harvey took a cigar and lit it, puffing on it slowly. "All right, Mason, but you'd better let me call a doc."
"No thanks. I'm fine."
The agent scratched his bald head reflectively. "Now what are you, fine, or out of sorts, or sick, or what?"
"I'm fine, just need more sleep, Harvey."
The agent had started to sit down, but now he rubbed his fat chin and remained standing. "Mind if F use your bathroom, Mason?"
Mason felt his cheeks flaming up. "Sorry," he mumbled. "The toilet is plugged. Told the super about it this morning. I--er-"
Harvey seemed to be studying his client "What's the matter with you? You're acting mighty strange today."
"Nothing wrong with me. The toilet is plugged, that's all."
"I merely want to wash my hands, Mason."
"The sink, the bowl, is plugged, too. I mean-er-the drain is."
Harvey clamped his teeth about the cigar and moved away from Mason toward the door. "All right. For some reason, you don't want me to go to your bathroom. I don't mind telling you, Mason, that I think you've got a woman in your bedroom."
The agent shrugged. "If so, I understand. I'll clear out."
"Thank ycu, Harvey." Mason was tremendously relieved.
The agent rested his hand on the knob of the door. "You're sure you feel okay?"
"Yes. I'm ... all right. Thank you."
The agent stepped into the hallway and regarded his client oddly. "Guess you know what you're doing, Mason," he said, somewhat mysteriously.
Mason ignored this, for a thought had come to him. "Harvey, tell me. The summer place I asked you to rent for me. Have you acquired it yet?"
"Yeah. I intended discussing it with you today. The place is ready for you to move in."
"It's on Ainsworth Road, about ten miles out. Is that correct?"
"Yeah, right. You can move in any time. If you do, please keep in touch with me, Mason. I don't think there's a phone in the place yet, but I'm not sure. Are you thinking of moving there right away?"
"Y-Yes. I want to be ... alone for a few weeks. I need extensive work on arpeggios."
The agent seemed puzzled. "Arpeggios?"
"And other matters of technique."
"Mason, don't kid me. You haven't been concerned with arpeggios in five years, not in particular, that is. Why now?"
"Can't explain that really. Just something I feel I need to do. Has my other grand piano been sent to the country place?"
"Yes, or it'll be there in a matter of days."
"Thank you, Harvey."
The agent studied him. "Hope you enjoy your lady friend."
Mason allowed a grin to cross his face. "Goodbye, Harvey. I'll giye you a call."
"You do that, soon, too." The agent started to move away again, but again he paused and studied his client. "You're a man, Mason, and I'm not going to attempt to advise you about personal matters, but for heaven's sake don't let yourself get involved emotionally with some broad." With this he was gone before Mason could reply.
"You mean because I'm supposed to be an artist," Mason said softly, finishing the agent's remark. He closed the door and locked it carefully. Then he went to the bedroom and called to the girl. She came out of the bathroom and he saw she was fully clothed.
"Is there anyone who might miss you?" he asked. "If you were to leave the city, I mean?"
"Huh?" Her eyes were squinted almost shut and she looked puzzled. "What did you say?"
"I mean, could you go to the country with me and stay there for some length of time? Would anyone be-er-looking for you?"
She shook her head. "Ain't nobody cares about me. I ain't got no folks. Not really."
"Fine. You and I are going to visit my new place in the country."
It was two hours before they arrived in his car. He had had to stop at the realtor's to obtain the key to the place, had stopped also to buy her some decent clothing, which had been quite a problem for him first, until she suggested that he pass her off to the lady sales clerk as his daughter. It had worked beautifully, though the clerk had seemed somewhat dubious of a father who would allow his own daughter to wear such ragged clothing.
Mason's stopped his car in front of the stone house in the country and shut off the motor. He patted her on the leg. "Come along, honey. Let's take a look at the place."
She giggled. "You called me 'honey'. "
"So I did. I suppose I'm still regarding you as my daughter." Mason lifted the packages from the car and they went up onto the verandah together. Excitement was running high in him again, though it had remained dormant while he was packing his grip, buying the clothing, and riding to the place. "Come along. Here, I'll have to unlock that door." He did so and pushed the door open.
She pulled at his arm, looking up at him childishly. "Did you bring me into the country so you could screw me dead?"
He was shocked. "What a terrible thing to say," he muttered.
"Are you gonna squirt your juice up my stomach?"
"Your stomach?"
"Well ... you know what I mean. Are you gonna fuck me?"
"Y-Yes," he said, his lips very dry again. "I must say, you have a way of putting things."
"I want you to fuck me. I like you."
"You may be sure that I'll do it to you, my dear," he told her. "But let's not rush the thing too much. I brought you here because there is too much danger in the city. People are always dropping into my apartment for one thing and another."
She ran from him and began opening doors on the left and right sides of the long hall. Each time she peered into a room she would jump up and down and clap her hands in delight. "Oh, what a pretty place. I'm gonna love it here, mister."
He walked over to her. "You know," he said, "you haven't even told me your name."
"Lisa."
"You may call me Mr. Randolph."
But she had disappeared into one of the rooms. Smiling slightly and feeling good, too, he walked back to the car and got his grip. Upon returning to the house, he selected a bedroom off the hall to the left and deposited his belongings-as well as hers-on the floor. He had every intention of having her close to him as much as possible, and certainly he meant for her to share his bed. Already, he thought of this child as being his mistress; he mean to make her that. He knew such a thing, superficially, might be absurd, but he was going! to attempt it nevertheless. Stranger things than this were happening in the world and it did not bother Mason that she was so very young. Of course he would have to keep people away from the place. No one must know about his little experiment. He must learn to pass her off as his niece, perhaps. Something of that nature, just in case someone did come to see him and discover the child in the house.
He recalled again the way she had looked as she lay on the sofa in his apartment, her body exposed to him, and once again he wondered about the fact that she had no hair about it. Could it be she had not reached the proper age for hair? He found this difficult to believe. Her breasts were well along their way to budding womanhood, so surely there should be hair. Thinking about her in this manner caused him to become wildly passionate and he left the bedroom tb seek her out. He searched through several rooms before he found her lying on a sofa in a rear room. He stepped through the doorway and looked at her. Apparently, she did not see him, for she was busily engaged in fingering herself. Her pants down, her body exposed, her finger was going in and out of her crevice quickly. There was a look of ecstasy on her child-face. He saw her body stiffen, heard her gasp and cry out. He became extremely excited and crossed the room to where she lay. "Lisa."
The child stopped her self-love and glanced up at him in. startled fashion. She half-grinned but removed her finger and ran her tongue over it much in the manner of a child licking a lollipop.
"Mmnim ... good ... "
"I'm sure it is," he cried. "But you are wasting yourself."
She sat up, leaning on both elbows. "What."
"Don't do it," he begged. "You want to, mister."
"Yes. Let me satisfy you, my dear."
"I been trying to get you to," she said pouting prettily.
His cheeks were flaming. "Do you like to use your finger on it. I beg your pardon-in it."
"Better'n nothing."
"Wouldn't you rather I stuck my hardness into you?"
She nodded.
Perspiration was on his face now. "Then will you pull your dress higher and spread your legs?"
"Gee, you talk funny. Sure I will. I want you to stick it in. I want you to do anything you get hot about."
"May I kiss it first?"
"Kiss it, lick it, suck it, screw it, use my ass, I don't care. I like it all, mister. Only do it to me good."
"I'll kiss it first and then put it in. Oh ... you make me so hot,"
She yanked her dress all the way up, spread her naked legs and looked at it in the most lustful way he had ever witnessed. "Come on, mister, I'm waiting to have you fun me."
He dropped to the sofa and, bending his head ran his tongue over her legs and higher. When he felt the little indentation of her crevice, he pressed his tongue deeply within her. Immediately she started pulling his hair wildly.
"Suck it, mister, suck it for a long time. Make me come."
But he wanted more, much more, so, turning himself about quickly and yanking down his pants and shorts, he again buried his face in her crevice and ran his tongue over her cunt, while at the same time a chill ran up his spine as he felt her hands clutching! at his erection, her lips going about it, her head bobbing up and down as she endeavored to effect a release from him. The release came in heavenly fashion, but much too soon, and his body shuddered as his face stiffened in a kind of blissful agony as he sprayed her mouth and filled her throat with his sticky male sap ... and still she bobbed her head up and down, attempting to get more, more of it, all of it
He cried out from sheer pleasure as he hit the peak again quickly and once more sprayed her. However, this time she jerked her lips away from him and took the full impact of his release on her face. All the while she laughed gaily like a child, which, of course, she was.
"Love it, mister, love it," were the words that repeatedly passed from her burning lips.
"Suck me suck me," he implored her. "I can go many times."
"Boy, you sure are a hot old guy," she said, giggling. "And that stuff you squirt tasted like honey. How come it's so sweet and nice?"
He groaned "Please ... don't talk ... suck me again."
"Okay. You gotta suck me, too, mister. I ain't gonna do it all."
"I intend to," he told her, his penis quivering with the wildest urge he had ever known.
"Wait, mister," she cried as he ran his tongue into her cunt again. "Instead of sucking me this time, why don't you get on your hands and knees and fuck me like a puppy dog. I just love to be fucked like a puppy dog."
He removed his tongue from her cunt and grabbing her forced her up onto her own hands and knees. Taking his hard-on in hand he rammed it into her cunt from the rear. She squealed and wriggled her butt about until his cock had sunk deeply within her.
"That's it, mister," she squealed with delight. "Now move your cock fast. Make me come all over you."
Mason fastened his arms about her waist and leaned his weight on her small body, wondering if she could hold him up in this manner. The answer was that she could and did. He moved quickly, roughly in her cunt and she cried out, probably from the pain of it as well as the pleasure.
"Squirt, mister," she begged him. "Squirt it into me. Fill up my cunt with your stuff."
It was more than he could stand. He squirted for the third time and while he was doing it his cock was pulled out of her cunt and accidentally rammed into her ass-hole. She screamed from the pain of this sudden, unexpected entrance, but he paid no attention to her. He kept on plunging his penis at her, the sap flowing from him in such quantities that he suddenly became weak and limp. Falling down onto her with his full weight, he nearly broke his penis off, if such a thing were possible. The pain was so intense it had to end quickly. His cock came out of her ass and he lay over on his back and groaned.
She squealed again when she saw his penis. "Oh, mister," she cried. "You have my shit all over you. I must clean you up. A good girl always cleans off the shit from a man's cock."
Whereupon she took his penis between her lips and began, indeed, to cleanse him of her inner matter.
"You doggy-fucked me, mister," she breathed. "I just love to be fucked that way. Honest I do."
CHAPTER THREE
Later, the strangest feeling he had ever had came over him and he found himself seated at the piano in the studio room playing a sonata in G-flat, a most difficult key in music, and his fingers were flying through it with greater skill than he had ever before possessed. He, as was his custom whenever he could do so, practiced nude and, as he played the sonata, out of the corner of his eye he saw the child come naked to the piano and stand there quietly watching his fingers with a kind of eerie fascination. When he concluded the piece, he turned quickly and stared at her, his lips formed in a half-smile.
"Wasn't it magnificent?" he murmured.
The child smiled strangely. "I didn't know you was a piano player. You're awful good."
"Thank you, my dear. I do believe you inspired me to play that well."
"What's that mean?" she asked, looking puzzled.
"It means you're beautiful," he said mysteriously.
"I'm sleepy," she said. "I ain't beautiful."
He glanced at his watch and noted it was half-past nine. Where had the time gone? Had they lain together on the sofa for hours? They must have. "My dear, it is much too early to go to bed, don't you think?"
"I wanna go to bed," she said, her lips formed in a pout. "And I'm hungry, too."
"You had your supper, my dear."
"I'm hungry," she insisted, "and I wanna go to bed."
He sighed. "Go to the kitchen and eat whatever you can find in the refrigerator that you like."
Her blue eyes returned his look. "You mean I can eat anything I want?"
"Certainly. Anything your heart desires, provided we have it."
"There's an awful lot of food in the kitchen. How did it get there?"
"A man named Harvey saw to it we would be well supplied. He arranges everything for me."
"Are we gonna live here all the time?"
"For a while. Why? Don't you like it here?"
She turned and walked away from him. "Guess I'll go put on my new nightdress." She stopped near the doorway and turned around. "You care if I just have some crackers and milk?"
He smiled at her. "Have whatever you want, my dear child. Anything I have is yours."
She giggled. "Boy, I'll say it is. You sure squirted in my face."
"But you seemed to enjoy it," he said, taken aback momentarily.
"I liked it very much. Why don't you do it again?"
"You have your--er-crackers and milk and go to bed and I promise you I'll wake up later in a most agreeable manner."
She giggled again. "You mean you want to stick it in me when I'm asleep?"
"Perhaps," he said, smiling.
"Okay. Then I'll go to bed. You want me to sleep in that big room where the stuff is?"
"Yes."
"Which aide of the bed."
"It doesn't matter."
She giggled again. "Okay," she said, and left the room.
Mason laughed oddly and struck a few related chords that had no real meaning to him. Running the back of his forefinger up the keyboard producing a glissando effect, he arose from the piano and continued to laugh momentarily. "Imagine," he mused aloud, "having a mistress who wants to go to bed at this hour and who prefers crackers and milk to, say, a steak."
He heard a clap of thunder outside and instantly his gaze went to a nearby window. A flash of lightning followed by another was plain to be seen. "Another rainstorm," he muttered. "I won't be able to walk in the park if I live out here in the country." This had not occurred to him before and he wondered if his walks in the rain would come to a stop altogether. Mason had been taking walks in the rain for a long time-it had become almost a ritual to him. Another flash of lightning preceded another and louder clap of thunder and, as he turned from the window, he saw the child running toward him, her arms outstretched.
"I'm scared," she cried, sobbing the words. She jumped up, grabbing him around the neck and wrapping her legs about his middle, much in the manner of a five-year-old who is either frightened or happy and wants her father.
He held her easily. Mason was a strong, wiry man, though by no means the athletic type. Her legs about him, her front pushed against his stomach made him feel strangely comforted, and this astonished him, for he had seldom felt the need to be comforted by another. His comfort had, during his adult life, come from the practice and performance of music.
"Don't be afraid," he reassured her. "I'm here. I won't let the bad old storm hurt you, dear."
"I hate storms," she sobbed.
He stroked her hair and spoke soft words into her ear, but she continued to sob almost hysterically. Finally, he carried her back to the bed and placed her down, but she clung to his neck fiercely.
"Don't leave me, please, mister?"
He lay down on the bed beside her and removed her arms from about his neck. Straightening up, he got his robe and put it on and looked down at her. She was wearing the long white nightdress he had bought for her and she looked even younger than her age, whatever it was. She looked, in fact, almost like a baby.
"Please, mister," she begged, the tears streaming down her face as another flash of lightning appeared outside the window. "Please lie down beside me and let me hug you. I'm awful scared."
He lay down flat and, putting his arm about her, pulled her quivering body almost on top of his own. She lay on him, her stomach going in and out, and each time it touched him he became more agitated. She ceased to cry shortly afterward and, placing her head on his chest, began to play with his penis. It became hard quickly and she cried out and ran her hand up and down on it.
"Put it an, mister, make me feel good, please?"
For some reason, Mason did not want to at the moment. He was content to leave things as they were. "No," he said. "Not now. Later I will. Right now I want you to get over your hysteria."
"What's hysteria, mister?"
"It's when you are very afraid and go to pieces emotionally."
She was silent for a moment. Then: "Oh ... was I that way."
"Somewhat."
She let go of him and turned her face away. "Guess you don't like me much right now, do you?"
"I like you very much, my dear."
"Then why don't you do what I want you to do?"
Mason breathed deeply. "Because I am an adult and you are not. You'll have to get used to doing as I want, not just what you want. Do you understand me?"
"Why you gotta be mean to me?"
Mason was patient. "I'm not being mean to you.
I'm explaining things to you."
"What did you bring me here for?"
Mason sighed. "Because I wanted to."
"I wanted to come, too, but now ... you won't ... "
"Be patient, my dear. I'll make love to you later on, when I feel like it."
"I gotta go to the bathroom," she said abruptly, and, getting up from the bed, left the room. Evidently, she was no longer afraid of the storm and this caused him to wonder if she had not, in her little girl, pay-attention-to-me manner, been putting on something of an act for him. She certainly had recovered from her fear easily enough.
Mason smiled to himself. He waited for her to return and, when she did, she came directly to the bed and leaned over him and kissed his mouth. "Thank you," he said, smiling still.
"Are we gonna live here all the time?" she asked, kneeling on the bed.
"I told you," he replied. "For a while we are. Why?"
"And you're a piano player and you're gonna practice a lot and all that stuff?"
"Yes. I practice considerably."
She looked him straight in the eye. "Then can I have me a puppy dog?"
He was surprised. "A puppy dog?" She nodded her pretty head. "Yes. A dog. A boy puppy dog."
"I suppose you can, my dear. Do you like dogs, pets?"
She wrinkled up her nose. "Don't like pets much. I just want a puppy dog."
"Whatever for?? " He sat up now and studied her, puzzled.
A sudden and dark suspicion came into his mind, but he didn't examine it at any length. "To play with?"
"A boy puppy dog. A medium size one."
"You want a medium-sized puppy dog to play with?" His mind was becoming confused.
"Yes, when you're practicing and can't bother with me."
He sat up still straighter. "Will you be more specific, please. Why the sudden interest in a puppy dog."
"I just want one to play with, mister."
He sank down slowly to the pillow and regarded her with a mixture of emotions. "We'll see." he said flatly.
"I'd like a puppy dog, mister. They make me excited."
Again he rose and stared at her. "Dogs make you excited."
"Yup. Can I have one?"
Again he; sank down to the pillow. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "I'm not sure I care much for dogs."
"Oh, but it's for me, not you, mister."
He. tried something on her. "Supposing I buy you a female dog. Wouldn't that be more suitable for a little girl?"
She lay down on the bed beside him and shook her head vigorously. "Nope. I want a boy puppy dog. I like boy puppy dogs."
Mason Randolph was almost afraid to pursue the matter any further, but he did so against his will.
"Why do you prefer boy dogs?"
She was silent for a moment. "Well, gee, you know why, don't you?"
Mason leaped up from the bed and glared down at the child. "Do you know what you are saying?"
She blinked her eyes and turned her head away from his burning gaze. "You're mad at me," she whimpered.
"You're right, I am mad at you. I never heard of such a thing in my life. You want a male dog for-odd reasons. You want to ... " He couldn't say the words.
She sat up on the side of the bed. "I gotta go to the bathroom again, mister."
Se said nothing as she bounded out of the room and he sank down on the bed for the third time, his mind awhirl. Was this child some kind of a little monster? Somewhere in her brain was there a cog missing? He found it difficult to believe the implications she had just thrown at him and, with his mind whirling even more, he left the bedroom hurriedly, crossed over the hall and found a bottle of whiskey. Good man, Harvey. Leave it to him to have everything in the house that Mason wanted. He uncapped the bottle and drank from it, then had another. His heart was beating at a fearful clip and for a time he wondered (in some panic) if he might be having a heart attack. In time, his heart returned to a more normal rate of beating and Mason was relieved. He had heard of men in their late thirties having heart attacks from hearing shocking news but had never quite believe it.
"Mister," she said from the doorway, "what's wrong?"
He turned and glared at her. "Not a thing, go to bed."
She took a step into the room, stopped and began twisting her hair in her hands. "Are you mad at me, mister?"
"Go to bed," he replied, not looking at her now. "All right. Good night, mister."
"Good night."
"I hope you ain't gonna stay mad at me, mister. I hate to have you mad at me."
"Go to bed," he almost shouted at her.
"All right. Good night again, mister."
Mason turned away and did not reply this time. He did not even want to look at her for the moment. Wild thoughts were churning about in his mind and he didn't care to delve into them. He wanted to put them out of his mind, but they persisted, so he had several more quick drinks and began to pace the floor. Why was he so upset, really? What did it matter that the child had weird notions, desires? It could be he had misunderstood her remarks, her meaning. He hoped so, but there still persisted in his mind some deep, dark ugly thoughts and!, shuddering, he took still ajnother drink in an attempt to stop thinking about her. The whiskey did little good, in the long run, for he kept coming back to her request for a male dog and each time he did he shuddered anew.
"I've got to get rid of her tomorrow," he muttered. "But I must do it in such a way that she won't know I'm getting rid of her. I can't afford to make her angry at me. She might tell the police what I've done to her."
He had forgotten about the storm (even as she apparently had), but now as the wind increased blowing the rain hard against the windowpanes, his mind turned to it suddenly. He was glad to have something else to think about and went about the large room checking windows to make certain they were securely fastened. All but one was. He turned the hook screw on it and tested it to see if it would stay in place. Lightning flashed angrily outside and the thunderous clap that followed immediately told him the lightning was close at hand. He stood by the window gazing out at the storm and seeing the landscape in brief flashes as the lightning repeated itself over and over. He dropped the drapery back in place and moved away from the window. Perhaps he should check the rear of the house, also. He did so and was amazed at the number of windows in the place. There must have been at least forty of them.
He returned to the large room at the front of the house just in time to see the lights flickers, die, and came on bright again. He hoped the power would not fail; it would not be pleasant to be without power during a storm like this one.
"Mister," she called from the doorway, "I can't sleep. I'm scared again. Why can't the storm go away?"
He turned slowly and saw she was naked. He ran his eyes up and down her smooth, child body and felt it happen to him suddenly. Apparently, she saw it, too, for she uttered a little cry and ran over to him, threw her arms about his chest and rubbed her body against his erection.
"Oh, please, stay. Stick in into me, here on the floor. Anywhere. Make me feel brave again."
What an odd remark it was. Brave? What had sex to do with being brave? He put his hands on her buttocks and pulled her up tightly against his throbbing parts. She slipped her hand between them and, taking hold of him, began to manipulate him vigorously, hotly. With her other hand she pulled apart his robe, wrapped her lips about one of his nipples and suckled and bit it fiercely.
He could not stand much more of this, so, picking her up easily, he carried her to the bedroom and not once during the short trip did she cease manipulating him or suckling him. What a very strange child she was. As he placed her on the bed, she threw her arms about his neck and bit his ear hard. He almost screamed from the sudden pain of it but managed to hold back. She pulled herself up from the bed, still clinging to his neck, and sought to wrap her legs about his body, all the while pumping her own body at him hotly. He thought he was going to explode in more ways than one and, as he sank down on top of her, her legs shot out wantonly wide and she began to lick the side of his face with her tongue. He thought for certain he was going to explode now and before he could effect penetration. Seizing his penis, he thrust it at her opening but could not get it in.
"Help me," he muttered. "You're too small."
She brushed his hand aside and took his penis in her small hand, gripping it so fiercely that he winced, but she got the head of it inside her cunt and pushed her child body up against him, while at the same time he thrust hard at her and felt it slipping into her inch by inch. He had to adjust himself several times, had to take great care, had to push hard to get it to slip all the way in. Finally he had the satisfaction of knowing it had been accomplished and a thrill ran through him when he felt the tight, vise-like grip her cunt had about his erection. He could feel a pulse in her throbbing violently against his hard flesh and this nearly drove him mad with desire.
He began to move in her slowly, but she begged him to speed it up and he did so, though reluctantly. He liked to go slowly at first, to savor every bit of "feel" there was.
"Go off in me, mister," she whimpered. "Go off in me quick."
He paid no attention to her cries but continued to move slowly, feeling the rubbing of his prick against the rubbery sides of her cunt, knowing the feel, also, of her fluid as it struck the head of his hard-on, lubricating the movement and causing a chill to pass up and down his spine. She flowed on him repeatedly and begged him again to go off in her.
"Wait," he told her. "Wait for it to happen. Don't be so impatient."
"Please, mister," she cried. "Make it squirt in me. I love to feel it squirting into me."
He did squirt into her then, a long stream of it, and she dug her fingernails into his back, causing him once more to wince with pain. Her cunt was now wrapped so tightly about his prick that he could actually feel pain from this, also. She had a very tight cunt and knew how to use it to perfection. He had discovered this only too well and the knowledge of it spurred him on, strangely. He could hear the little suction sounds being made as his hard-on repeatedly went in and pulled out of her crevice, her tight, binding, sucking crevice. She bent her back in odd fashion and this caused the tightening process to become even more pleasure-able, more maddening more energizing.
"Go OFF in me, mister," she cried. "Please go off in me quick."
"But I don't want to, not too quickly," he managed to mutter.
"Come in me, again come hard. Fill me with it. I love it, mister." She began to pump her little body at him in the most wanton manner imaginable.
He felt a trickle of sap running from him then, and then a moment later a solid stream burst from it and kept on flowing for a very long time, and all the while he kept on pumping at her cunt while she cried out with the most wanton passion he had ever seen in a female. Obviously, this child was vastly oversexed, if there was such a thing. She was frantic about it, almost in a state of panic when finally the sap from his penis had spent itself.
"Do it again, please, mister."
He kept moving in her for a time, but finally exhausted now, he ceased and lay still on top of her, his penis still buried deeply within the small confines of her twelve-year-old cunt. It was some time before he went soft and reluctantly removed it from her body. The moment he did this, she threw her arms about him and kissed his face and neck passionately.
"You're a very passionate little girl," he murmured.
"I love to fuck!" she cried. "I wish I could find someone who could fuck me all the time, not just some of the time."
* * *
It was now more than two hours later and she had fallen asleep while he lay wide awake in the darkness listening to the fury of the storm outside. It had shown no sign of letting up but, in fact, seemed to be growing steadily worse. Acting on impulse, he got up from the bed, crossed the hall and looked for a radio. Finding one in the corner of the room, he turned it on. The static was so loud he could barely hear the music being played. Finally, the music stopped and the voice of an announcer came through but not clearly. He thought he heard the word "tornado" and he listened more closely now. The static was so great he could not understand a word of what the announcer was saying. A cold fear coming over him, he ran to the bedroom and picked up the child just as he heard a terrific rending sound, as if a tree had been struck by the lightning and had toppled to the ground, the trunk cracking and splintering from the force of the gale-like storm.
He had to hunt for the correct door, but finally he found it leading off the kitchen at the rear. He yanked it open and went down the basement steps. He found a light hanging from the ceiling and turned it on. The bulb was not a strong one and the light cast by it did only a little to dispel the darkness, but it was sufficient for him to see the walls of the large basement. He selected the corner he thought might be to the southwest-this was the one recommended by the authorities for bad storms and carried the sleeping child to it. He sat on the cold floor holding her nude, trembling body in his arms and wishing he had thought to bring along a blanket.
"Mister," she whimpered, though he had thought she was in a deep sleep. "Why did you bring me to this awful cold place?"
"The storm," he muttered. "I'm afraid we're in for a bad time."
She whimpered at first and then, startling him greatly, began to scream like a child possessed by evil spirits. She kept this up for a long time and then changed the scream into a whimper and, throwing herself down on him frantically, reached for his penis with one hand while the other hand found his buttocks. She lowered her head, took his penis in her mouth while at the same time roughly thrusting her first finger up his anus. She began to jerk her finger in and out of him, hurting him somewhat but delighting him as well. She sucked on his penis not much in a sexual manner but more like a baby suckling its mother and wanting to swallow the warm secretion. The warm secretion was not long in coming. He flowed into her child's mouth with a kind of wild abandon, the storm momentarily forgotten. She withdrew her finger from h-'s anus and thrust it into her mouth.
"Look at me, mister," she chortled. "I'm eating your shit. Don't that make you hot?"
"Don't do that," he told her. "Please."
She yanked her finger out of her mouth. "You sure are a funny old guy. Can't get you figured out no how."
"I'm not an old guy," he told her. "I just seem old to you because you're so young."
She laughed and rammed her finger up his ass again. It hurt him this time but he did not speak of it but allowed her to continue working it in and out while she sucked on hig penis greedily.
"Blow it off into me, mister," she entreated him. "Why do I have to keep begging you for it?"
"I'm not a machine," he said, a bit angrily. "If you'd suck harder I would. You talk too much sometimes."
"Gee, mister. I'm sorry." She did not speak immediately after that but kept on with the sucking operation until he felt the hot. sudden gush of his male milk into her mouth. She seemed to grow frantic then for she grabbed his testicles with her other hand and pinched them as she continued to poke her finger in and out of his ass-hole. There must have been a rubbing against his prostate gland for he flowed into her for a very long time, and when it was done and finished he was so weak he thought he would never regain his strength.
"You are," he said, with difficulty, "the most passionate little girl on earth. I don't see how you keep on with it, but I hope you do."
"I wish you had a whole lot of pricks," she cried out. "I swear, I'd suck all of them at the same time. Honest I would. I'd rather suck you off than anything else in the world, except maybe have a puppy dog or something."
CHAPTER FOUR
Mason did not know, nor apparently did the girl, how long the couple had been standing on the basement steps, perhaps watching them, but, when he happened to glance that way, he blinked his eyes several times, saw them as distinctly as was possible in the dim Light, and instinctively tried to cover the child's nudity with his robe. The man and woman were staring at them silently and Mason finally got to his feet and, wetting his lips nervously, spoke, "Who are you?"
The man preceded the woman down the stairs and both came top a stop a few feet away from them. "Travelers, sir. My wife and I. Our truck was turned over by the gale. The bridge is out.
We saw the light and came here. I think my wife is injured."
"Come here," Mason said. "I mean, come into this corner. There is a tornado on the way. This is the only safe place in the house."
"Thank you," the man said. "You're most kind, sir."
Mason could barely see them even when they came into the corner. The light was not good enough to distinguish their features well. They looked like gypsies, he concluded. Both were dark of skin and eyes and Mason could not help noting the woman had large breasts, her dress was half-torn from her upper body. The woman made no attempt to cover her bosom but looked at him, not as if she were injured severely, but as if she were interested. The way she continued to stare at him caused Mason to wonder if she at least had not seen the child going down on him. Well ... what was there to do but pass over it?
"You'd better crouch down on the floor as we are," Mason told them. "The big blow may come at any minute."
"I think you're wrong, sir," the man replied. "The tornado has already passed. We could see it faintly, going by about a mile away."
Mason breathed deeply. "You certain of that?"
The woman spoke now and in a deep, throaty tone of voice. "Yes. There's no need for you and your daughter to be afraid now. The storm has spent itself for the most part, at least here."
"Thanks," Mason said dryly. "We weren't particularly afraid. We were simply taking precautionary measures."
Lisa did a rather smart thing then, surprising Mason. "Daddy," she said, "can't we go back to bed now, if the storm is over?"
"Yes, Lisa," he said, taking his cue from her. "I suppose we can if what they say is correct."
"It is correct, sir," the man said. "But allow me to introduce myself. I am Eric Weedon and this is my wife Kera." He paused and looked at his wife, then turned back to Mason. "We are gypsies, sir," as if this explained why they were here.
"I'm Mason Randolph and this is Lisa." Mason glanced at the woman. "Your husband said you were injured. How badly?"
The woman smiled slightly, revealing beautiful teeth, what he could see of them. "It is nothing, sir. I'm quite all right. A mere scratch."
"We would like to ... have a place to sleep for the remainder of the night," the man said slowly. "Would you be so kind as to ... "
"We have plenty of bedrooms," Mason said, thinking this the best course of procedure. Let them stay all night and in the morning they would be gone. "You're welcome to stay."
They were upstairs now and Mason showed the couple where they could sleep. They thanked him, the man gravely, the woman with her eyes mostly, and Mason left then and went to his own bedroom, where Lisa was already asleep. He stood by the bed looking down at her and chuckling at the self-conscious way she had acted when he had been obliged to carry her up the stairs, his robe not sufficient to cover her nakedness. He had seen Lisa watching the man as if afraid he might stare at her. For some reason, it pleased Mason to know that the girl was human after all, that she, too, had some feelings, other than those of precocious lust.
He drew the covering up over her nudity and, sighing deeply, crossed the hall to the large front room and poured himself a drink. Standing in the middle of the room and holding his glass, he listened for the sounds of the storm and noticed almost for the first time that they had lessened considerably. He glanced at his watch and saw it was three o'clock. Funny. He didn't feel sleepy or tired but, in fact, felt quite good. The storm had caused adrenalin to flow in him more than-likely and its effect had not yet left. He sank down on the sofa and took a sip of the whiskey, and for one of the few times in his life he wished he had company to drink with. As though in answer to his wish, the woman appeared in the doorway. When she coughed, he glanced up at her in startled fashion.
"Hello," she said in that deep, throaty tone of hers. "Mind if I join you, sir?"
He got to his feet quickly and smiled. "Of course. Please come in and sit down. Would you like a drink?"
The woman, he noted, was wearing only her slip. She was barefoot and her legs were very well shaped. As she walked toward him, her breasts jounced about bewitchingly and threatened to leap out of the confines of the slip. Mason saw she did not wear a bra and he felt a stirring of interest. When she came to the sofa and sat down, she crossed her legs, causing the slip to rise high on her shapely thighs, but she made no move to pull the slip down. Regarding him steadily with her black eyes, she smiled again and again he noticed, and much better this time, how perfect her teeth were. She looked to be in her late twenties. She was, he concluded swiftly, a damned good-looking woman.
"Give it to me straight," she said suddenly.
Mason started. "Oh ... " he murmured. "The drink? Of course. I'll get you a glass."
"I'll drink from the bottle if you don't mind."
"Very well." He got the bottle and handed it to her.
She took a drink and then a second one. Again she regarded him with her black eyes. "May I ask you something, sir?"
He blinked. "Certainly."
He shook his head.
"Your daughter. She is very pretty, isn't she?"
Mason nodded uncomfortably.
"I hope you won't take offense, sir, but is your daughter ill?"
Mason stiffened and pulled his mind back into place, or tried to. "I beg your pardon."
"Your daughter, is she ill?"
Mason moistened his lips without realizing it. "Certainly not. Why do you ask that?"
The woman brushed her long, black hair out of her eyes. "I saw what was happening."
Mason felt his cheeks flaming. "I beg your pardon," he said again. What could he do but brazen it out?
"It intrigued me immediately. We gypsies used to have a certain ritual, some of us. It consisted of the oldest daught-er--er-discovering about life from her father."
"I am not a gypsy, madame," he said stiffly.
"Of course. Please ... don't be annoyed at my remarks. You see, we gypsies do not have the same conceptions about love and sex that others have. We see nothing wrong about a father showing his daughter what sex is all about. We, in fact, encourage it. Who is better qualified to show a young girl than her father and who will be kinder to her during the act? I hope you understand me, sir."
"I'm afraid I do," he replied, still sounding very stiff. "I can't say as I am enjoying the turn of this conversation."
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. It struck me as strange, however, that so young a child should be so ... how shall I say it-eager?"
"If you don't mind," he said, and broke off.
"When I saw the happening, I forgot about the storm. Would you like to know what my feelings were, sir?"
Mason glared at her uncomfortably. He found himself nodding.
Again the woman brushed her long, black hair out of her eyes. "I said to myself that this man is lonely. His wife is dead and he doesn't know where to turn to obtain what he must have. I told myself that I would attempt to be ... kind to him if he allowed us to remain overnight."
"There is no need," he murmured.
"Ah, but, forgive me, I think there is. Please don't be offended at what I'm saying, sir. I only want to help you. Your loneliness touches me deeply."
Mason looked down at the carpet. The woman didn't know what she was talking about. She was, apparently one of those females who are always and forever jumping to conclusions without first ascertaining the fact of the matter. The world was full of such females, he knew. Why not play along with her, it might be interesting.
"Thank you, madame," he said, half-smiling at her. "You are very kind."
She leaned forward and, as she did so, her breasts half-tumbled out of her slip, but she paid no attention to it. "Sir," she said, "if I can be of help to you, please feel free to call on me." She winked at him carefully and continued. "You may please yourself in any manner you desire. I am a gypsy and, as I have told you, we have different standards from other people. I hope you understand me."
"Quite so," he said, but less stiffly now.
She smiled. "May I have another swallow of your whiskey?"
"Certainly," he murmured, wondering if she knew he was hard.
She tipped the bottle back and drank like a man, but there was nothing mannish about her looks or behavior, he realized. Handing the bottle back to him, she spoke softly. "You, sir?"
"Thank you, yes," he said, and took the bottle and drank from it.
"You don't need to have qualms about my husband, sir. He understand that I, as a woman, have a debt to pay for the kindness offered to us by our host for the night."
He glanced at her and saw the wild lust in her dark eyes. "You are," he murmured, "a most unusual woman."
She ignored the compliment. "Do you have a cane, sir, or a stick?"
"I beg your pardon."
"Do you have a cane, sir?"
"Why ... I'm not sure. Whatever for?"
She looked him straight in the eye. "You must beat me, first, sir, and then I'll submit to your desires."
"W-What?"
"It is customary, sir. You must beat your woman first."
Mason was aghast. "Why, I couldn't do such a thing, madame. I find it revolting."
"You must," she insisted. "Besides, sir, I enjoy it."
Mason could only wet his lips. Words would not come.
"When you beat me, sir, you must take care not to strike me in the lower front. This is in case a child is conceived later. I do not want your child conceived in an injured home."
Mason could still only stand there and moisten his dry lips.
"Come, sir, surely you have a cane about this magnificent old place somewhere. Please go and find it."
"You merely think you don't, if I may say so, sir. All men of your race have been told that this is a savage thing to do. It is not, however. It is a perfectly natural thing for a heated male to abuse the female first, to show her, as it were, who is the stronger.
"I'm afraid I don't see it that way," he murmured, but he found he was strangely excited by her words.
"Then let me ask you something, sir. Do you or don't you want to inject your cock into my cunt?"
Mason cleared his throat. This woman was so uncomfortably direct, he had never talked to a woman like her before. How in the world could one answer her preposterous questions ... or were they preposterous? "Ay, yes, madame," he murmured.
"Does that mean you wish to please yourself within my body?"
He did not answer her but instead found himself heading for a nearby closet. He searched through it and found an umbrella that appeared to be of light weight. He picked it up and struck his other hand with it a few times. It stung a little but not too much. Turning about, he walked back to her and held out the cane.
"Would you-er-think this satisfactory?"
"Yes. It doesn't matter. You must beat me hard, you know. Do not play at it. I must feel pain."
"Don't you fear pain?"
She smiled. "No. It is woman's role in life to know pain, sir." She stood up and lifted her slip up over her hips, bending over at the same time. "Please thrust the end of it up my anus, sir. It is a part of the ritual that the opposite end be moistened by my bodily secretions. This you must have on your hands while you beat me."
"Oh, I say," Mason protested, "this is a bit too much. I really couldn't."
"Yes, you can, sir. Gather up your courage and put away your fears. Thrust the end inside of me easily and briefly. That's all there is to it. I promise you it won't harm me."
Mason pointed the end of the umbrella at her anus and reluctantly allowed her to steer it in. He pushed on the umbrella a little and it slipped into her body easily. She grunted and sighed almost at the same time.
"You may withdraw it now, sir, and beat me."
Mason was in a daze. He did as she directed, holding the umbrella properly and bringing it down, but gently, on her exposed buttocks. The woman sank to her hands and knees and looked up at him imploringly.
"Please, sir, continue, but harder, much harder. Gypsy men are very strong, you see, and I am used to it."
"I think I could do better," he heard himself say, "if you removed your garment altogether."
"I'm so sorry," she said, apologizingly. "I forgot I was supposed to be nude. It is important that you see my bruised flesh."
In every man, there is a deep-seated and subconscious hatred for all females and because it is deep-seated and subconscious, the man is hardly ever aware of it. Men hate females because females are so necessary to their existence and to the human race. All men want to be self-sufficient, but they can never be so because of their need for females. Mason Randolph felt some of this hatred now. It seemed to explode inside him as he brought the umbrella down savagely on the small part of her curved bare back. She cried out, but there was also a look of utter rapture on her lust-ridden face. Her black hair hanging down, her breasts also hanging downward, each time he struck her body it shuddered and he knew she was having something close to an orgasm from the blows. He continued to rain savage blows on her unprotected body until finally she screamed and looked up at him, her eyes half-closed, her face a picture of pained pleasure.
"Keep on with it," she begged. "You're wonderful."
Mason was growing tired physically, but he raised the umbrella high and brought it down repeatedly on her naked body and, as he did so now, his robe slipped off his shoulders and fell to the floor while he stood over the masochistic woman, his erection standing straight up and dripping sap down the front of his legs. It ran down to his toes and, when she saw this, she turned and ran her tongue passionately over his body, swallowing all the sap she could find to consume.
"Do you want more?" he asked, his voice an agonized wheeze.
"As you wish, sir," she gurgled. "You are my master. Beat me to death if you wish."
"I don't want to do such a thing," he said, shocked all over again at her total disregard for pain. Nonetheless, he brought the cane down hard on her back again and this time the cane broke in two and he threw the pieces away and sank down wearily to the sofa.
"Are you through so early," she asked, her dark eyes looking disappointed.
"I am through," he said. "I am quite through. I am also tired."
She jumped to her feet, her great breasts swinging freely, and came and sat beside him. "You're good, sir," she said. "You're very strong. You thrilled me." She reached over and took hold of his erection and massaged it gently. "Would you like me to do anything in particular, sir. I'll be happy to oblige you in any way that you may wish. You've been most kind to me and I want to treat you well."
"I've been kind to you?" he said, incredulous. "Why, madam, just a few moments ago I was beating you. Do you call that kindness?"
She nodded. "It was most kind. I am a woman and a gypsy. I have a great need to be beaten by a male."
Mason shook his head in disbelief. "I just don't understand such a one as you, madame. I have never seen a woman like you before."
She laughed and massaged his erection at the same time. "You mean you never knew a gypsy woman before."
"Perhaps. I never knew a woman who wanted to be beaten by a man."
"I do," she said flatly. "I prefer to feel like a woman. I have no desire to try to impersonate a man as so many American women do."
"I'll be a-"Mason choked off the curse word.
"Go ahead. Fell free to say, or do, anything you want to in front of me, sir."
"You, madame, are a most unusual woman, I must say."
"Thank you, you are very kind to say so."
"Could you-er-I mean, could you-" He choked off his words again.
She nodded. "I think I know what you're trying to say. I think I know what it is you need. Don't forget. I saw your daughter taking you in her little mouth in the basement, so I-er-well, if that is your need, I'll be happy to please you ... sir."
He leaned back and stared into her black eyes. "Why? I mean, why are you so willing to please me, a stranger?"
"Because it is our custom to be pleasing to our host, if he is a male. The gypsy men are supposed to be nice to the hostess, if that's what she wishes. Gypies believe in paying their debt to those who are kind to them."
Mason had always heard the exact opposite concerning gypsies, that they never paid a debt of any kind. "An admirable quality," he murmured.
"So you see, sir, I'm ready for you, if you'll tell me what you want me to do."
"Supposing I asked you to-er-sit down on my, well, you know, and take me that way. Would you consent to satisfy a stranger in this unique manner?"
"Certainly. Shall I crawl up and straddle your legs, sir? I can easily take all of your erection in my cunt. I have a well-developed one and, if I don't sound too immodest, may I add that I know how to use it when it is wrapped around a male part."
Mason took a deep breath. "I find it hard to believe I am actually sitting here and hearing a strange woman talking to me in this manner. Am I dreaming, madame."
"Of course not, sir. You're very much awake. The look of your penis tells me you are also very much of a man. Do you care to make an insertion into my body now?"
Mason decided it was time for him to be equally as blunt. "Do you really want me to fuck you, madame. Do you want it very much."
She smiled and ran her hand up and down on his penis. "Certainly, I do, sir, but that is unimportant. I am merely a female. It is what the male requires that is important to us gypsies."
He drew back and looked at her jet black hair. "Most remarkable," he said, breathing the words near her ear. "Most remarkable."
"May I ask, sir, what is it that is remarkable?"
"You are, madame, you are extremely remarkable."
She hung her head. "Thank you, sir, but as I said, I am merely a female and females are never truly remarkable."
"That statement in itself is remarkable," he said.
"In your world, perhaps yes, but in mine, no."
Mason became very agitated by her sweet manner. "Madame," he said, his voice dripping with passion, "would it be too much to ask you to sit on my lap and take me into your body?"
"Certainly not, sir. I have already indicated I am willing to do anything for you. Anything at all."
He took another deep breath. "I do believe," he said at length, "that you have aroused passion in me to such a degree that if you do not immediately sit on me and sink my shaft into your body ... then I'll explode all over myself."
She rose, threw one leg over him and settled her body down over his lap. He felt his penis being practically sucked into her body, felt it sink deeply into her inner heat, felt her sap running over his most sensitive region, felt her body shudder and jerk at him as though anxious to cause the immediate drain of his fluid.
Now, sir," she whispered in his ear, "you just relax and sit perfectly quiet and let the gypsy woman drain you of your need."
CHAPTER FIVE
He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes only to feel her striking him full in the face with her breasts. He opened his eyes quickly to see that she was twisting her dark beauty from side to side and this was what caused her copper-colored breasts to slap him on the face, a most pleasurable experience. He tried to catch one of her breasts in his mouth but could not do so. Her breasts were long and large and soft and very, very warm and, as they continued to slap him across the cheeks, first one cheek and then the other, he again closed his eyes and allowed this lust-filled gypsy to work him, and work him she did, using, apparently, every bit of her skill and passion to cause him a drainage.
"That's it, sir. Just relax and enjoy it."
He placed his hands on her slender waist and lightly clung to her, feeling the swaying motion of her body as she sought to please her host for the evening. Her skin was smooth and soft, like silk of the rarest quality. He let his hands run down her hips and felt the swaying motion even more as she continued to move effortlessly on him, her cunt wrapped tightly about his erection and making little sucking sounds that were not unlike the sound of water rushing down a drain. He felt himself squirting a little and evidently she felt it, too, for she took his face in her hands and held his head firmly, all the while breathing hotly against his nostrils. Her breath was scented and smelled clean and refreshing. Even her skin was scented with something he had never before caught the scent of, and this pleased him greatly. He was breathing rather hard now, but still he was relaxed and comfortable; her weight bearing down on his thighs was not a thing to cause him discomfort but was a highly enjoyable experience.
"Come a little more, please," she begged him softly, her wet lips against his ear. He felt her tongue darting into his ear then and the sensation made goose bumps on his face and neck.
"Don't move so fast, Kera," a voice said from nearby. "You'll spoil the pleasure of our host."
Mason felt his blood run cold for a moment. The woman's husband stood close by and was watching them intently. Mason could see at a glance that the dark-skinned man was completely naked and had erected. How long he had been standing there Mason had no way of knowing. He waited for the woman to yank herself of him, to jump up and flee, to do something that an ordinary woman would do when her husband catches her seducing another male, but she did nothing of the sort.
"Oh, Eric," she murmured without glancing up at her husband. "He is so very hard and large. I'm trying very much to please him properly."
"Excellent, my dear," the man said to his wife. "You have the training for pleasing a man. See to it that you use all of it." Then to Mason, he said, "And you, sir, take advantage of my wife's skill. Just stay relaxed for as long as you can and I promise you she'll make you flow at greater length than you possibly ever have before. We are very proud of the skill of our women, we gypsies." He stepped closer to them now until his erection was but a foot from Mason's face. Mason wished he would move back a little. He felt both ridiculous at having been "caught" by the husband and excited at having the man witness the happening. What odd people these gypsies were. What wonderful people they were. "I must say," the man went on, "this sight makes me very passionate. I'm wondering, sir, if you would object to-er-offering me the favors of your-I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, sir-your daughter. Do you suppose she would be receptive to the offerings of a strange gypsy man?"
Mason gasped. He had not counted on this. "I don't know," he muttered. "She's very young."
"Excellent, my dear sir. I promise you I shall be most gentle and good to her. Tell me, sir. Do you object to my seeking her out?"
"N-No," Mason heard himself gasp. "Please ... don't ... frighten the child."
"I'll bring her here, sir, and you, can witness it That way your mind will be relieved. Will that be satisfactory, sir?"
"Yes yes," Mason said impatiently. He felt like slaying, "Do whatever you wish but don't talk to me at a time like this."
"I detect a slight hesitancy in your manner, sir," the man said, moving still closer to Mason. "Perhaps it may be that you wish to suck me while my wife pleasures you. Can that be your desire?"
Mason's mouth had gone very dry and his mind became confused. He tried to answer the fellow, but words would not come.
"It is a beautiful thing, sir," the man went on, "to enjoy both sexes at the same moment. Shall I insert my penis between your lips?"
Mason shook his head and the man drew back and murmured an apology. "Then may I fetch your daughter here so that she, too, may participate in our gypsy offerings?"
Mason nodded impatiently and the man withdrew from the room.
"Do you wish me to hold off, sir?" the woman said in his ear. "Would you care to wait and achieve at the same time my husband does in your daughter?"
Mason found his tongue. "No no. Proceed. I'm very hot."
She had stopped twisting her shoulders and slapping him with her breasts and now she began to do it again. He wished once more that he could catch one of her warm breasts between his lips and suckle it, and finally he asked her if he might. She told him quickly that it would please her greatly if he did so and stopped her twisting movement to place the tip of a breast in his mouth.
"There, sir, enjoy it. Suckle it while I make you achieve below." And she began to pump away at his vitals' again.
He heard a soft scream from the vicinity of his bedroom and knew the gypsy man had awakened Lisa. Lisa did not scream again. The next thing he knew was that the man had entered the room leading Lisa by the hand. When Lisa saw Mason on the sofa, covered by the voluptuous body of the woman working him, she uttered a cry of gladness and possession and Mason saw her reach out and take hold of the gypsy man's erection. The man smiled, patted her head and led her over nearer to the sofa, where Mason could see them at close range. The man sank to the floor lying on his back, and Mason saiw Lisa glance at him quickly. Mason nodded and Lisa cried out in child fashion and buried her face in the gypsy's vital area. Mason saw her take his penis between her lips. Saw her head bobbing up and down, saw the look of wild lust on the man's face as the child massaged his penis with her small mouth.
In the meantime, the woman had increased her speed on Mason and he was finding it difficult to continue any longer. He was about to achieve and to allow the woman to know this, he gripped her shoulders fiercely. She nodded and proceeded to pump him wildly but expertly. Mason glanced back at the two lying on the carpeting nearby and saw the man's body jerking convulsively, saw the child bobbing her head faster now, saw the man grasp the child's head with his large, strong hands and hold her there while he apparently emptied himself into her oral cavity.
Mason, himself, blew suddenly and the woman cried out and kissed him long and wetly on the mouth.
Mason and Lisa were in their bed now and both were silent for a long time, the others having gone to their beds.
"Honey," Mason said, speaking softly, "did you enjoy the man?"
"Yes, but I like you better, mister."
Mason sighed. "It was a most eshilirating experience. Didn't you find it so?"
"What's that big word mean, mister?"
"It means it was exciting."
"I liked it," she said simply. "The man, I mean."
"I like the woman, too, Lisa. She did things to me that I ... "
"That you what, mister?"
"Never mind. We'll talk about it perhaps in the morning. It's very late and we'd both better get some sleep."
She was silent for a moment. Then, placing her hand on his stomach, she said, "Mister, I'd still like to have me a puppy dog. Can I?"
But Mason had already drifted off into sleep. When he awakened in the morning, it was calm out of doors-the storm had spent itself long agoand the child was not in the bed. He rose on his elbows, yawned and blinked his eyes.
"Hello, sir," a voice said from the doorway. It belonged to the lovely dark skinned woman. "I've been waiting for you to wake up. I have your breakfast ready."
He saw immediately that she was wearing only a skirt, that her upper body was bare, her great, beautiful breasts jutting outward, and, as she moved toward him carrying a tray of food, jouncing about entrancingly. She set the tray down on his chest and sat on the edge of the bed, her breasts almost touching the tray. She smiled at him and, reaching under the sheet, patted his stomach.
"How is my male today?" It seemed an odd way to put it.
"I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat first.
She laughed. "Oh, I'm afraid you misunderstand me. I meant you, of course, but more particularly I meant your apparatus for love."
Mason allowed a grin to cross his lips. "It seems rather quiet at the moment."
Her dark eyes grew large. "You mean you don't awaken with a readiness?" She smiled revealing her perfect, white teeth. She was a very beautiful woman, he noted.
Mason laughed uneasily. "Sometimes I do, but not this time."
She pursed her wet lips bewitchingly. "Oh, sir what a shame. That is unthinkable. You had better allow me to massage you into shape while you drink your coffee. I should love to please you again, sir."
Mason patted her arm intimately. "You're very kind. I would rather wait till I have eaten a little. I'm really quite hungry."
She leaned over and kissed him wetly on the lips "Of course. How very stupid of me. I keep forgetting you aren't one of us. By all means, partake of the food first. Then I shall comfort you, sir."
Her lips were very red and they accented her dark skin all the more. Her long, black hair hanging down her shoulders and partially covering her breasts made the breasts all the more exciting. He examined every detail of her lush body and had a strange wish. He wished he could keep this woman, her husband, too, in the house with the child and him.
"Madame," he said gravely, "you are a most gracious and beautiful woman."
"Thank you, sir. It is the sort of thing I would expect to hear from such a fine gentleman."
"I wish you lived here, the two of you," he blurted.
"Thank you, sir," she said, and dropped her eyes nicely. Then, a moment later: "Sir, may I say something rather personal?"
"Yes, I would think so."
"The little child. She isn't your daughter, is she? You are no relation to her. She is your partner in excitement, am I correct?"
He hesitated and then spoke softly. "You are correct, madame. I picked her up off the streets. She has no one. No one. in the world but me. I find her ... exciting ... but nothing like yourself, madame," he added hastily. "A fullgrown, mature woman is better."
She nodded. "True. However, a female child has her good points, too. My husband is quite taken with the girl."
"I don't blame him She is a remarkable child."
"Most precocious, for not being a gypsy, sir."
"Your husband, he is quite a chap. I find him most agreeable."
She lifted her brows. "Am I to understand, sir, that you would prefer to have him at the moment?"
Mason felt his cheeks warming a little. "Certainly not, madame. I am not of that inclination."
She nodded. "Very well then. By the way, it was nice of you to invite us to remain here. Our truck, I'm afraid, is beyond repair. As we told you last night, we didn't see the bridge out until it was too late. We went off the road to avoid going into the river and the truck was badly smashed."
"You were lucky not to have been seriously injured."
"I was shaken up, but I got over it the moment I saw the child taking you in the basement. That is the way I am, sir." She smiled. "I'm a passionate woman and, when I become sexually stimulated, all else seems of no avail, even being injured slightly."
"What a nice way to be," he murmured. "I find it refreshing. American woman are not that way, I'm afraid, some of them."
"Gypsies are very much that way, sir, as I have said. We don't have the same conceptions concerning sexual matters. For example, we consider it perfectly all right for a man to want a man, at times, and-likewise for women to want women. Not all gypsies are of this persuasion, only those of our origin."
"And what is your national origin, may I ask?"
"Originally our people came from Persia."
"Ah, yes. I once knew a Persian pianist who was ... that way. He believe in surrounding himself with both willing females and males. I had almost forgotten him. I must say that at the time I was somewhat shocked by his behavior."
She smiled. "You, I take it, are musician. I observed the grand piano in the large room."
"Yes-which reminds me, I must eat now and go and practice scales for an hour."
"Might I come and hear you, sir?"
"I'm afraid scales are not very entertaining, madame."
"I love music, any kind of music."
To hear a person say he loved music was something that always pleased Mason Randolph. "Then you may listen to my practicing, madame." He proceeded to eat his breakfast hurriedly, and when he had finished, somewhat hesitantly got up from the bed.
"You are naked, sir. Do you play the piano in this manner?"
He laughed. "Habit of mine I developed when I was always alone, madame. Yes, I do, in the morning, that is."
"How wonderful. Does playing make you sexy?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so. I never noticed." He walked from the room, taking her hand and leading her to the room where the grand piano stood. Releasing her hand, he sat down-and to please her-played a dozen bars of the Sonata in G-flat. Then, realizing that she was entirely too engrossed in the selection, he sighed and proceeded to do his scale work. As he practiced, he became more and more lost in his work to the point where he completely forgot about the half-nude gypsy woman sitting on the floor at his feet. It was not until he finished that he remembered her and he smiled down at her apologetically.
"I'm afraid I'm being a rude host," he said softly. "Did the scales bore you, madame?"
She moved along the carpet on her buttocks until she was between the piano and the piano bench, and sitting with her back against the pedals He had no idea of what she was about to do until she asked him softly to play the first selection again. As his fingers began to caress the lovely piece of music via the keyboard he felt her lips go about his penis lightly. He nearly stopped playing, his surprise was so great.
"Keep on. sir," she said. "Your beautiful rendition excites me."
He kept on with the Sonata and, he played, increasing the tempo where the music called for it, she increased her movement on his cock. He was fully hard now and she placed her hand beneath his testicles and lifted them from the hard bench. Lovingly, she caressed him there as she mouthed him above, while he continued to play as if great inspiration had come to him at long last. When his sudden, frantic release streamed into her mouth, he struck an enharmonic chord and half-rose to his feet. His sap kept on flowing and he wondered how she could manage to swallow it, so great was the amount, so long did it stream from him.
And then it was done and finished and she mouthed him clean and arose to her feet, a look of wild lust still remaining in her dark, flashing eyes.
"You, sir, are a very great artist," she murmured, and fled the room, her buttocks swinging wildly from side to side.
Mason laughed tensely and realized something fast. Yes, he would have to make some provision for keeping the two gypsies at his place. They were, so far, delightful people, some of the most delightful and wholesome people he had ever known. Their forthrightness was refreshing and different from what he was accustomed to and this gratified him in a strange way, perhaps the reason being that he, Mason Randolph, had often been n man lacking in forthrightness. He lightly touched the keyboard, striking soft chords and unconsciously falling back into the progression of the sonata. Playing it halfway through, he knew what had happened. The sonata had been written by Ardo, the great gypsy composer, and more than-likely the scrains, minor, had struck a responsive note in the gypsy woman's breasts, causing her to react swiftly, passionately. Mason felt ten years younger, though he was by no means a middle-aged man, being only thirty-seven. He laughed lightly, got up from the piano and went to his room. The breakfast tray had already been taken away and his bed was made neatly. His clothing, which had been draped over two chairs, had been picked up and put away in the closet in an orderly fashion. Obviously, the woman was a good house-keeper and this, too, was something Mason needed. After dressing in clean clothes, he walked to the front verandah and surveyed the damage caused by the storm. Several tree limbs lay on the ground in front of the place and there was much evidence of other damage, including shrubbery uprooted. Mason was astonished to see the man working about the yard, picking up branches and putting them into a pile. He called to the man.
Eric Weedon heard him, called back and waved his arms. Then he broke into a trot and came all the way to the verandah, stopping at the foot of the steps. "Good morning, sir. I was straightening up the yard a little. The storm didn't do as much damage as one would have supposed. How are you today, sir? You look rested and fine."
"Thank you," Mason said gravely. "May I speak about a personal matter to you? It concerns your future."
"Certainly, sir." The gypsy smiled, revealing his very white teeth.
"I've taken a imagine to you and your wife," Mason said bluntly. "I'm a rather lonely chap. I'm wondering if you wouldn't care to perhaps spend the summer here with me. With us, I should say. The child and me. Your-er-wife made me most-er-happy just now, if I may be so blunt about it."
The man regarded him respectfully. "You may discuss with me anything that you do concerning my wife. You may, sir, if you wish to. There is certainly nothing compulsory about it. You may have secrets from me concerning her, also." He paused and smiled broadly. "As for staying here with you for a while, I think that would be most pleasurable."
"Would your-er-wife agree to it, do you think?"
Eric never ceased smiling. "She is a female. She does what I say."
"But do you think she would enjoy being around -er-me all summer?"
"I'm sure of it, sir. My wife has taken a great liking to you, if you don't mind my saying so.. "
"I don't mind. I rather enjoy hearing that. Then . . .you'll stay?"
The gypsy bowed. "With pleasure, sir, but only for a while. We are gypsies, remember, and when the urge comes over us we'll have to move on."
"I understand."
The gypsy was stripped to the waist, Mason observed now almost for the first time. The man came up the steps a short way and stopped.
"May I say something to you, sir?"
"Yes, of course."
The gypsy continued to smile as he spoke. "I would very much enjoy having an affair with you, sir.
"I beg your pardon." Mason was actually shocked.
The man came up another step and looked at Mason speculatively. "Did I offend you, sir?"
"Er-no. No, of course not. I was just surprised, I suppose."
"I was stupid about it, sir. Please don't think I'm what you people call a homosexual. I'm not. I am simply a passionate man. Do you understand that, sir?"'
"I think so."
"You don't wish to have relations with another male. Is that it, sir?"
"Yes. That's it," Mason said rather stiffly. "Such a thing leaves me cold."
"Then I am sorry, sir. I apologize and beg you not to think unkindly of me."
Mason looked the man over carefully. "I'll try not to." He paused. "I'd like to ask you something, Eric."
"By all means."
"You have been around the world, I presume."
"I would say almost so, sir."
"Have you ever ... have you ever ... heard of a female wanting to-er-own ... a ... male dog?"
"Do you mean, sir, for sexual purposes?"
Mason's face blanched. "Y-Yes. I'm afraid so."
The gypsy nodded. "Yes, it is a fairly common thing among certain peoples of the world. Nothing, however, or very little, has ever been said about it"
"I see," Mason said, disturbed. He turned and reentered the house without offering any explanation as to why he had sought this information. He knew the gypsy understood him.
CHAPTER SIX
The wind had been blowing hard all afternoon and it was during the dinner hour that the rain began to fall in torrents. Mason was eating alone in his study-he was working on an original composition and did not want the others around him at the moment-and when the water struck the windows of the room, along with the wind, the window flew open and water blew in on the carpeting. He got up and quickly fastened the windows and stood looking at the lightning which repeatedly flared up anew.
Lisa stole up behind him and placed her hand in his, startling him somewhat. "Hello, sir," she said, "you know something? I'm not afraid of storms the way I used to be."
"Oh ... that's good," he replied. "I'm glad to hear that. There is really nothing to be afraid of, you know."
"I like to see the water hitting the window. It reminds me of the stuff flowing from a man."
Mason felt his spine doing strange things. "Really? Do you really mean that, my dear?"
"Yes, sir. It makes me hot, the water."
"Do you want to?" he asked, looking down at the top of her brown head, his pulse quickening.
"I don't mind," she replied. "Only ... I don't want to suck."
"I still do. I just don't want to now. Sucking is for babies."
Mason smiled. "I see." He moistened his dry lips. "Do you want me to take you, my dear?"
She shook her head. "Oh no, sir. You're the master here. I'm not good enough. I would rather the gypsy gentleman took me to bed."
"Wait a minute," he said sharply. "You're mine, not his. You shouldn't decide you don't want me any more. That's a matter for my judgment, not yours, dear. After all, you're still only a child."
"Very well, sir. I'll do as you say."
He glanced at her sharply. "Are you unhappy with me?"
She shook her head, her long brown hair flying about her pretty face. "No, sir. I'm very happy living here with you and the others."
"I'm sorry I have been neglecting you so much of late, my dear." As he spoke the words, his eyes examined the front of her and he was astonished at the size her breasts had attained. "Will your dress open in front?" he asked her. "I want to look at your titties."
"All right, sir." She opened her dress and he saw her breasts were much larger than he had thought they were. "Do you like the way they look now, sir?"
"Very much. You're getting to be quite a woman."
"I have hair around it now, some," she said, grinning up at him.
"Have you? Let me see it, please."
She lifted her dress, pulled down her panties, and he saw she indeed had considerable hair around her cunt. He drew in his breath sharply. "I've really been neglecting you, my dear. Shall we go to my bedroom and see if you are truly a woman?"
"AH right, sir."
They were in the bedroom now and she stood near the bed looking at him strangely. "Sir," she said meekly, "the next time Kera walks to the village for supplies may I go with her and buy some grown-up clothing. I'd like high-heeled shoes and black nylons. I want to look ... sexy, sir."
"For me? How very charming."
Lisa looked at the floor, saying nothing.
Mason cleared his throat, thinking of something that had not been mentioned for weeks. "Tell me, my dear. Do you still want the puppy dog?"
She laughed easily. "I have one, sir. Eric got one for me a long time ago."
Mason felt his blood running cold. "Is it a ... male ... dog?"
"Yes, of course, sir."
He swallowed hard. "And have you--er-you know what I mean?"
"I like him. He is a very good dog. He's all mine, too. Eric said he was." She had not answered him directly.
"Why wasn't I notified about the dog?" he demanded irritably.
"Why, sir ... I thought you knew about him."
"I want you to get rid of the ... beast at once. Do you hear?" Damn that Eric. He should have asked the master before buying the child a dog.
She looked at him oddly. "Why, sir?"
"I-er-don't want it around the place. I don't care for dogs." The truth was, Mason found he had become extremely uneasy and perhaps jealous of the dog. Perhaps he should seek out Eric and demand why he had bought the dog for the child. Almost immediately, he rejected this as being too unkind to the man.
"But I love him," she faltered. "I love my puppy dog."
"You will get rid of it at once," he said harshly. "I will not say another word about it."
A tear trickled down her face and he could not bare the sight of it. Turning on his heel, he left the bedroom and walked to the rear of the house, looking for Eric and Kera. He did not find them.
"Damn it!" he cried. "Damn it to hell!"
Going to the rear door, he opened it and peered out but closed the door immediately. The rain had struck him full in the face and his clothing had very nearly become drenched in that shot period of time. "Damn it!" he cried again. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
He had not touched whiskey in two weeks, but now he felt the need for it. Odd. He had never in his life felt the need for anything other than music and sex. Now another need had gained a foothold in his being-the need to be comforted, which was all the whiskey would do for him, if that. Going quickly to the grage room at the front of the house, he poured out a generous amount of whiskey in a glass and gulped it down hastily, nearly choking on it. When he regained his breath, he stared at the offending bottle and a wild urge came over him. He wanted to smash the bottle.
"Cool off," he muttered. "Nothing is worth flying into a rage over."
A few moments later he noted that he was becoming hard. Another odd thing. As far as he could tell, he was not particularly in need, was not in a passionate state of mind. Reaching down, he felt of himself and it was indeed quite hard now. Mason sighed and contemplated going back to the bedroom and ruthlessly taking the child. Something stopped him and he knew exactly what it was. He did not want to inject where a....
The thought was almost unbearable. "Damn her stinking soul!" he cried. "Damn the stinking, lousy little soul." To cover up his strange discomfort he had another and larger drink. This time he did not choke. The whiskey went down smoothly, evenly, pleasingly. He had a third drink and a fourth and fifth. Finally, he sank down on the sofa, full length, the bottle in his hands, the cap having been tossed into the fireplace. "I'm going to get drunker'n a lord," he muttered. "The hell with staying sober." He proceeded to drink more of the whiskey and an hour passed before he felt his head spinning crazily. He was cautious about getting to his feet for fear of falling and perhaps injuring his hands. "Damn my hands!" he cried out. "I'm sick of worrying about them."
Without his fully realizing it, the bottle slipped from his grasp. A short time later he was sleeping soundly. He had no conception of how long he slept, but when he wakened, he felt as high as ever. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs out of it, he got to his feet and staggered to the hallway. He crossed it unsteadily and entered the bedroom The girl was lying on the bed staring at the ceiling.
She saw him. "Is it never going to stop raining," she complained. "I want to play with Randy."
"Who's Randy?" Mason asked, leaning against the door.
"My dog. That's what I named him. After you, Mr. Randolph."
He grimaced and fell toward the bed, managing to sit on it rather than falling prostrate across it. His head still spinning, he squinted his eyes and looked at her. She was wearing a sweater and nothing else. He let his eyes travel down to her thighs, saw they were pressed tightly together and wondered if she were holding them that way to prevent him from seeing her intimate spot. He reached over and put his hand on her flat, smooth stomach, pressed down on it.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That hurts."
He removed his hand. "Why did you name that animal after me?"
"I thought it was a cute name."
"Don't like it. Don't want a dog named after me."
"Please," she said. "Don't be mad at me."
"Who's mad. I don't like having that beast named after me." He paused. "How would you like it if your mother had named you after a dog?'
"How did ... you ... know ... I ... had ... a mother?"
"I didn't. Do you? Where is she?"
"Lives in that alley where you found me."
"What alley are you talking about? he asked thickly. Mason had temporally forgotten about it.
"You talk funny. Are you drunk, mister?"
"I've been drinking, yes. I'm not drunk."
She moved away from him and the move was not lost on him He put his arm around her and pulled her back. "Are you giving me the brush-off?"
"What?" Her blue eyes were very large.
"You heard me. Are you trying to tell me something?"
She shook her head. "I don't know what you mean, mister."
"And another thing-when are you going to stop calling me 'mister'? "
Her lips parted and he saw her run her small tongue over them. "Why are you so mad at me?" she asked.
"Don't answer my questions by asking another one. I would prefer you call me Mr. Randolph. I don't like that mister stuff. It's too cold."
"I don't mean to be cold."
"Don't call me mister."
"Can I call you Randy, too?"
He sat up straight on the bed, more sober now. "Hell no. What do you mean calling me by a dog's name? Besides, I'm telling you to get rid of that beast as soon as the rain stops. I don't want that dog about the place. "Why not, Mister ... Randolph?"
"Don't ask questions. Just get rid of it."
She began to cry a little. "I don't want to. I love him."
"Either you get rid of it or I'll take you back to the city and drop you in the alleyway where I picked you up. Do you understand me, kid?"
"You're awful mad at me, aren't you?"
He ignored this. "If you want to live here you'll do as I say. I'm not fooling. I want that beast off the place."
She just looked at him through tear-stained eyes.
Mason got to his feet and walked, more steadily now, to the doorway, stopping to turn around and study her face momentarily. She saw him do this and turned her body sideways to expose her cunt to him fully.
"Why don't you fuck it, mister Randolph? I'd love to have your prick in me."
His cheeks flamed. He was tempted but managed to resist. "When you get rid of that beast, I'll avail myself of your body, as I please." He left the room hurriedly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He walked to the rear of the house and arrived there just in time to see the gypsy woman entering through the back door. She was thoroughly soaked by the rain, her hair hanging down damply, her face dripping water. Even her shoes were soaked and these she kicked off before actually seeing him. When she straightened, she caught a glimpse of him in the doorway and laughingly knocked her wet hair out of her face.
"Terrible ram, sir. I was foolish for being caught out in it"
"Happens," she said rather grimly. "Where have you been?"
"I started for the village, Eric and I, bat I had to turn back. He continued on. We need food for dinner, sir."
"I see."
She glanced at him sharply. "Is something wrong, sir. I detect trouble of some kind."
"The child," he muttered. "She has a dog. Who got her the beast?"
"My husband. Don't you approve of pets for children?"
He shook his head. "Get rid of it, please."
She moved close to him and placed her damp hand on his arm. "Sir, are you worrying about the sexual implications of the animal?"
This was exactly the reason he was upset, but to hear it put into words startled him immeasurably. "Madame," he said, his voice rising, "what on earth are you talking about?"
She seemed to be studying his eyes. "I see, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"Sorry about what, may I ask?"
"I'm sorry you're upset about the dog. There's no need to be."
"I beg your pardon."
"The dog cannot harm the child. Surely you know ... "
"I know nothing of the kind. I want it out of here, off the place."
"Very well, sir, but he's a very friendly dog."
"Do you call that sort of thing being friendly?"
"Please, sir. The animal is in the basement at the moment. Why not come down with me and take a look at him. You may like him. As I said, he's very friendly. He makes a nice ... pet for the child."
"I don't want to lay eyes on him. I only want him out of here."
"Please ... come to the basement and at least take a look at him, sir."
"For what reason?"
She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "Yon are the master. Whatever you wish will be done, sir."
"Very well, please take care of the matter immediately."
"Must I turn him out in the storm, sir?"
"It's only a dog, damn it, madame. You speak as if it were a person, you are so concerned about it."
"He's a very nice dog, sir," she said firmly.
Mason drew himself up and glared at her. "Do not, please, defend the beast to me. I'm sick of hearing what a nice animal it is. Get rid of it and right now, storm or no storm."
"Very well, sir. I'll go to the basement and get him."
"And another thing. Kindly tell your husband not to make moves that affect the child without consulting me first."
"I'm sure he won't, sir. He's very loyal to his master."
"I'm not his master. Please drop that word from your vocabulary."
She brushed her dark, wet hair out of her face and her bosom heaved. "Forgive me for saying so, sir, but you are terribly out of sort today, aren't you? Can't I help you to relieve your tension. Perhaps if I knelt here on the floor and relieved you of your inner pressures ... "
Formality seemed to fly out the window. "You mean, don't you, that if you suck me off, I'll feel better?"
She was silent for a moment. "Yes, sir, if you wish to put it that way."
"I want only one thing at the moment. I want that animal out of here. Please attend to it."
"Yes, sir. I'll go and get him now."
"Good." Mason left the kitchen!, his intestines churning, and went back to the front of the house where he got another bottle, uncapped it and poured himself a stiff drink. When he had consumed it, he had another. The whiskey went down like water now. There was no burning sensation, no choking on his part.
He found himself looking in on the girl in her bedroom. She was still lying on the bed, her dress lifted, her hand on her cunt. He stood there quietly looking at her, but when she made no movement with her hand, he sighed, left the doorway, and walked back to the kitchen. He was surprised to see the woman's drenched clothing placed over chairs. Even her undergarments were there.
"She's gone to the basement naked," he muttered, recoiling at the thought. "Has she taken leave of her senses?"
He opened the basement door gingerly, afraid of what he might find at the bottom of the stairs. He stared down them, stopped and returned to the kitchen. His guts were churning. This was too much for Mason Randolph. Somehow he must go down there and....
And what ... ?
He lighted a cigarette and stood smoking it nervously, agitation growing inside him by the moment. He was genuinely astonished when he discovered that his penis was as hard as a rock. His breathing became fast and he could feel the sap dripping from his penis onto his underwear. Perspiration broke out on his brow and he wiped it away as his guts continued to churn. His heart was beating at a furious clip and he found himself reopening the basement door. Down the steps he went gingerly, trying to accustom his eyes to the relative darkness of the place. The one light was turned on, but, as before, it did not throw out much illumination. Mason reached the bottom step and paused, his eyes darting about, trying to locate the woman and, yes, the dog.
"Where is she?" he muttered, the words dropping from his dry lips like pieces of hardened clay.
He stepped down onto the basement floor and this was when he heard the soft moan which seemed to come from the far corner of the dark basement. He turned slowly in that direction and sucked in all the air he could.
The woman, naked, was lying on her back on top of a long packing box, her legs spread wide.
The dog. he saw immediately, was a fairly large one with short hair. It looked to be part hound, part something else.
Mason was not concerned with the type of dog it was.
He was concerned and agitated about something entirely different.
The dog was up on its rear legs.
Its nose was buried between the woman's lush legs.
The dog was licking her cunt.
The woman moaned and, grasping the dog by the scruff of the neck, held him in position when he momentarily ceased, to gaze over at the man near the steps.
"Keeps on with it, boy," Mason heard her mutter crazily. "Keep on with it, boy."
Mason felt the fluid start to run out of his penis and onto his underclothing. It dripped down his legs and he could not have been more passionate if he had been in a harem. With a strangled cry, he stumbled up the stairs and headed toward the bedroom where the girl was. He found her playing with herself, a look of intensity on her lust-filled face. With another strangled cry, he yanked off his pants and, seizing a hairbrush, began to beat the child savagely. She cried out, but the look of lust in her eyes changed into a look of rapture as re rained blows on her shuddering body. Each time he hit her, fluid squirted from him and struck her flesh. She squealed with passion and pleasure and began to yell.
"Do it to me, Randy-do it to me boy!"
Mason almost went berserk. Throwing away the hairbrush, he crawled upon the bed, lifted the child onto her hands and knees and wrapped his body about hers from the rear. He thrust at her anus with his prick and it entered quickly. She screamed but he drove it all the way into her ass, while holding her body fiercely in position to receive his spray. The spray continue to flow and as she screamed with delight and pain he struck her over the rear of the head. She screamed again and more sap left his body to find its way into her ass-hole.
"Fuck me, Randy-boy, fuck me again," she yelled.
Add Mason Randolph did. He fucked her for a very long time, finally yanking his hard-on from her ass and ramming it brutally into the wetness of her small, warm cunt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The following day Mason drove alone to the city and went directly to his apartment on First Street. He found the place stuffy from having the door and windows tightly closed for weeks and the first thing he did was to open them. He had had to get away from the house in the woods. The place was so filled with passion and lust that it had shaken him badly. He tried not to recall the events of the preceding day they had been too wild, too unbelievably hectic, too deeply unsettling. He sank down on a chair by the front window and stared across First Street and into the park below. The sun was shining pleasantly and because of it, no doubt, the park was being used by many people, some of them women, he noted. A few had children with them; most did not. Mason saw one woman sitting on a bench alone and tried to focus his eyes on her better. When he could see her more clearly, he observed she was a middle-aged woman and he immediately turned his gaze elsewhere. Middle-aged women disgusted him. They tired to substitute charm for sexual appeal, which was ridiculous, as any man knew. When a woman ceases to be appealing, she no longer exists as a woman but only as some kind of strange creature that somehow must be dealt with. Men. Mason knew, were basically kindly, but it required great will power to be kind to most middle-aged females. Middle-aged females were more of a nuisance than anything else, a fact they seldom if ever realized. He shifted his glance again.
A younger woman had entered the park and stood facing in his direction. He saw her tug at her bra to adjust it, saw her look about as if looking for someone. He wondered if she were actually meeting some man or if she were merely interested in meeting one. He confined to watch her and, when she appeared to look straight at him, he left the window and walked down the stairs quickly. Crossing the street, he walked by her and saw with satisfaction that she was pretty. She did not glance at him and this annoyed him slightly.
Mason wanted to meet a young woman, who had sexual needs somewhat less wild then the females he had been associating With for weeks. In his heart, he didn't know if he was tired of the gypsy woman and the child or not. This was one of his reason for being here he wanted to discover what his true feelings were. He also thought he might try to look up the child's mother. She might prove to be interesting.
He turned and walked back to the girl and caught her glance. "Hello," he said, smiling at her in his most pleasant manner.
The girl, a blonde type, looked him over swiftly. "Get lost," she said roughly, and, turning on her heel, left the park.
Mason smiled thinly and watched her, his lips curling. "Bitch," he muttered. "What do you have to give to the world besides your ass?" This reasoning made him feel better, superior, though he had no need for the latter feeling. He had always felt superior to most people by reason of his great talent. However, he had never dwelt on this, nor had he ever thrown it up to anyone. Returning to the apartment, he nevertheless felt somewhat crestfallen for having been put down so crudely it is never a balm to a man's ego to be put down crudely by a woman.
As he opened the door, he recalled the scene in the basement of his summer place and shuddered. "My God," he muttered. "How can women be so damned ... " He did not complete the sentence, for the phone was ringing. He went to it and lifted the receiver. "Hello."
"Mason," his agent said, "I'm glad I caught you in. They told me at the summer house you had gone for a ride. I just wanted to inform you that I have the fall schedule all set up. You open in Montreal the twenty-third of September. Will that give you enough time to prepare?"
"Two months? Surely. I'll be ready by then. No trouble."
"All right. Say ... who are those dark people at the place?"
"Friends of mine."
The agent was momentarily silent. "The woman," he said at length. "She's quite something to look at. Be careful. No scandal. You know what that sort of thing means to a concert pianist."
Mason laughed tensely. "Don't worry about it, Harvey. I'm not fifteen years old."
"I'll call you again in a few days. Will you be at the apartment or not?"
"I don't know. I'll try to remember to let you know where I am."
"Fine. Good-bye for now, Mason old chap."
"Good-bye, Harvey." Mason hung up slowly.
He looked through a closet and found a flew suit he had never worn, put it on along with a white shirt and tie. He inspected his reflection in a mirror and decided he looked all right. He left the apartment, walked up First Street to the main thoroughfare and turned to his left automatically. He knew where he was going but did not know why. When he arrived at the entrances of the alley, he stopped and glanced down it. There was no one walking about, no one in sight. He stepped into the alley and strode toward the doorway where he had first seen the child. When he stopped in front of it, he was startled to see a woman of perhaps forty leaning against the wall of the building, a cigarette held loosely in her hand. She was a rather coarse-looking female with unnatural blonde hair. Her eyes were cold and blue, but her breasts were large and not too well concealed. Mason glanced down quickly at her legs and noted they were shapely.
"Well, buster, see anything you like?" she asked, drawling the words. The cigarette was thrown to the cement and she ground it under her heel.
"How do you do," he replied. "A nice day."
"Yeah. Who said it wasn't?"
Mason was taken aback. The woman was so obviously rude that it surprised him. He came from a world where people were not usually rude in an obvious manner but more subtle about it. He opened his mouth to reply to her, but she cut him off.
"You wanna get your sink drained, buster?"
What a unique way of putting it. Mason smiled, easily now. "I might be interested in-er-having the sink drained, as you put it. What are the fees?"
She looked him over. "Looks like you got dough. Fifty bucks. Wait a minute. Don't go away. I'll make it forty."
Mason smiled again. "Is there some place we can go?"
"Naturally. I don't drain a sink on the street, buster."
She was pretty in a tough way, he decided, and she was not quite as old as he had first thought. She was probably closer to his age, thirty-seven. "All right," he told her, his pulse quickening. "Lead the way, please."
"Polite guy, aren't you? Okay, follow me." She turned, opened a door and, smiling at him for the first time, held it open while he entered the hall. There was a flight of stairs nearby and she led him up them. Opening another door, they entered a large room which was full of men and women in varying degrees of undress. None of them paid any attention to the man and woman who had just entered.
He touched her arm. "Who are all these people?"
"Working girls and men," she replied briefly. She opened another door and held it for him while he entered the private room. She pulled her dress over her head and stood half-nude before him. She was wearing a half-slip and her breasts were bared. He looked at them with interest, then glanced up into her eyes. There was something about her eyes that seemed familiar. He used his imagination and asked, carefully, the question he now knew he had had in his mind from the moment he had headed for the alley.
"You're very pretty," he said. "Actually, I was interested in a girl-er-much younger." He hurried on when he saw the deep frown on her face. "I wanted to-er-meet a girl of, say, fourteen or so. Is there no one here that ... ? "
"That answers that description," she finished for him. "No. Used to be. My kid worked. She cut out on me some weeks ago. Up and disappeared. Don't know what happened to her."
"Your daughter?" he asked, his heart thumping wildly.
"That's what I said, buster. You-er-want me or don't you?"
Mason pulled out his wallet and handed her fifty dollars. "Now, can we talk for a while? How much time does fifty dollars allow me?"
She stared at the money in her hand, raised her eyes and stared at him. "One of those, eh? You want to talk to a woman." She sighed. "Okay, talk away, man. You want me to leave 'em uncovered." She touched her large breasts questioningly.
"Yes," he said quickly. "They are very pretty. Exciting too."
She stared at him hard again and tucked the money under her stocking, lifting her dress high as she did and allowing him to send a swift glance at her bare thigh. "Think my body is exciting, eh? Good for you."
Mason sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. "Will you go for anything?" he asked bluntly.
She brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. "Sure, buster. What do you have in mind?"
He shook his head. "First we'll talk awhile. I'll think of something later."
She sat down on the bed near him and trained her cold, blue eyes onto his face. "Shoot, buster. Talk away. You keep me here talking all day it'll cost you more."
"Money is no object," he heard himself say. "May I ask your name?"
"Lois." She moved closer to him on the bed.
He spoke deliberately. "Did you say 'Lisa'? "
"Hell no," she replied, jumping away from him in startled fashion. "Say ... who in hell are you? What made you use that name?"
"I thought that was what you said."
"Lois, Lisa, Lois, Lisa," she muttered. "They don't sound much alike. How come you ... ? "
He did not know what had come over him, he was enjoying this immensely. Perhaps it was because she was so cocksure of herself. Cocksure? What an ideal word for this woman. "I think I may have met your daughter, Lois," he heard himself say.
"What?" She leaned over toward him, her eyes narrowed. "Are you a goddamned cop, buster?"
"No. I'm not a cop. I'm a musician. I think I know where your daughter is."
"Big deal. Who cares?" Nevertheless she looked interested.
"If you'll come with me," he said recklessly. "I'll show you where she is right now."
"I don't believe you, buster. Some kind of a game."
"If you don't believe me how do you explain my use of the name 'Lisa'? "
She rubbed her head. "Damned if I know. What makes you think I want to see my kid? She's a lying little brat, you know."
"Yes, I know. She told me she had no parents."
The woman shrugged. "Can't believe a word she says, buster." She moistened her lips. "Say. did my kid tell you to come here and look me up?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. She doesn't know I'm here."
"You grot her stashed away some place, mister?"
"I know where she is."
"How come you know? You been screwing my kid."
"Yes."
She rubbed her head again. "You want to screw me now, buster?"
"Later. I'd like you to come with me."
She rubbed her head again. "You gotta car?"
"I'll have to walk back to my apartment and get it."
"Is that where my kid is."
"No."
"Why do you want to take me to where my kid is?"
Mason was silent momentarily. Then he shrugged. "I'll pay you for your extra time. I want to see you and your child face one another. I'm curious about you two."
"Go get your car, buster. You gotta deal."
"All right. Please be standing at the entrance of the alley. I don't want to drive into the alley, it's too narrow."
"How long's it gonna take you, buster?"
"Say, ten minutes."
"Okay. I'll be there."
CHAPTER NINE
Mason was back with the car at the entrance to the alley in exactly ten minutes. The woman was standing there smoking a cigarette. She climbed into his car wordlessly and rolled down the window, tossing her cigarette to the street.
"Why didn't you make an attempt to look for your daughter?" he asked when they were out of the city on the side road that lead to the summer house.
She shrugged. "I don't care what happens to the little brat. She was a nuisance."
"You don't like your daughter very well, do you?"
"Buster, I don't like anything but the long green." She lighted another cigarette carelessly. "Say ... why you doing this, taking me to see her. Is she sick or something?"
"She's very well. I don't. . .really know why I'm doing it."
"Are you some kind of a nut?"
Mason laughed. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"You said you was a musician. That mean you smoke pot?"
He laughed again and shook his head. "I'm not a jazz musician."
"Ain't good enough for jazz, oh."
"I suppose you might say that."
"What kind of music you play."
"I'm a concert pianist."
She wrinkled up her nose. "One of those stuffy, pain-in-the-ass birds, eh?"
Mason laughed again. "I hope not."
"I went to one of them stuffy concerts once. I pretty near threw up."
This delighted Mason and he laughed so hard the car nearly went off the road.
"Hey, craphead, where you're going. I don't want my ass busted."
He righted the car. "Sorry. I'll try to keep it on the road."
She paid no attention to this. "All them fat-assed broads sitting around in their fine clothes and jewels spread all over 'em. Wasn't a goddamned one of 'em knew what was going on up on the stage. Bunch of dumb clucks trying to get cultured and all of 'em dumber'n a knocked-up grandmother."
Mason laughed heartily but said nothing, wanting her to continue.
"Guy came out with a violin and started to tune it up. Piano player hit a note and the guy drew the bow over the thing, and turned pegs in it and stuff.
When he got it the way he wanted it, he sort of bowed to the fat-assed audience, and you know what, so help me? Those stupid jerks started to applaud."
Mason was literally roaring by now. He had to wipe the tears out of his eyes to see the road.
"Watch it, man. Don't wrap this can around a tree. I hate trees."
Mason took out his handkerchief, dried his eyes and blew his nose. "Tell me more," he said, realizing he was having more fun with this woman than he had had in a long time.
"What did you say you played?"
"Piano," he said, choking.
"How'd you ever get wrapped up in that stuff."
"My mother was a pianist. She got me started at age three."
"My God, age three? Why, hell, man, you should have been learning to wipe your ass about then, not be playing no piano."
"I believe I learned that, too," he replied.
"Big deal," she snorted, taking another drag and blowing it out fiercely. "Goddamn broad, making a three-year-old kid bust his ass over a piano."
Mason was almost convulsed now. He had to slow and the down almost to an idling pace. "You're going to make me drive into a ditch, if you aren't careful."
"What was the matter with your mother? Couldn't she get enough in bed."
"I don't know."
"That's the way some broads are. They can't get any satisfaction in bed, so they take it out on their kids."
Mason stopped laughing. "Wait a minute. You haven't been exactly a model mama, have you?"
"Nope. I ain't been worth a damn. But I never forced her to go to no stupid piano."
"I wasn't forced to go to the piano. At a very early age they discovered I had an ... affinity for the instrument."
"What's that mean?"
"Means I like it very much."
"You mean to tell me you practiced piano all up through your childhood, even when you reached the jack-off stage?"
Mason smiled. "Yes. Every day."
"Didn't you ever want to kick the thing to pieces and go next door and screw the little girl?
"Yes, I did want to, but I didn't do it."
"Hell of a thing. Might better have been screwing.
"A man has to do something other than screw, Lois."
"Yeah, he's gotta make some bread, all right. I get you."
He looked at her briefly. "Are you a whore?"
She scowled. "What do you think I am an animal trainer?"
"I wasn't being rude," he assured her. "Perhaps I should have phrased my question differently."
"What for? You got the answer your way, didn't you?"
Suddenly Mason knew why he had asked this woman to accompany him. "Tell me," he said, trying to say it easily. "Have you ever heard of a female, a woman, wanting to have intercourse with an. . .animal?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake. Is that what you want me to do? No thanks-I ain't having no part of that bit. You can turn around and take me back."
"You misunderstand. I don't want you to do that. I'm just asking for your ... I mean, I want to know if you've ever heard of such a thing."
"Sure. Hell yes. Lots of crazy damned people in the world. Knew one in Chicago that screwed a Shetland pony, put on exhibitions. Guys would pay a buck to watch her through a peephole. She went nuts."
They had arrived at the summer house by now and Mason brought the car to a stop and cut the motor. "Here we are."
The women looked at the large stone house. "My God, you own a craphouse this big?"
"No. I don't own it. I rent"
"We going in there, buster? I mean, who's inside?"
"Your daughter for one."
"How come she's here, man?"
He shrugged. "You can ask her. Let's go inside."
They entered the house and he took her directly to Lisa's room. The girl was lying on the bed and, when she saw them, she sprang to her feet, a mixture of surprise and fear in her eyes.
"Your mother, Lisa," Mason said flatly. "I'll leave you two alone." Neither of them spoke a word while he was in the room. He left immediately and walked to the front room and looked for Kera. She was not in sight anywhere, nor was her husband. He searched through the house for them, but apparently they had gone to the village again.
He returned to the hallway just as the scream came from the bedroom. He stood rooted to the spot and waited. Another scream followed and he knew it came from the girl. Finally, he went to the doorway and glanced into the bedroom.
The girls mother was using the same hairbrush he had used earlier and was spanking the child's butt. She stopped when she saw Mason and tossed the hairbrush to the floor.
"Crazy little fool," the woman mattered. "Getting herself all fouled up."
"Don't let her hit me again, mister?" the girl begged. "She's mean to me. She's meaner'n hell."
"Come into the front room, both of you," Mason said. "I want to try a little experiment." He looked straight at the woman. "It's time you earned your money, madame."
"Okay, man, you name it What you want me to do?"
"I want to watch you go down on your daughter," he said, his eyes filled with wild lust
"You gotta be kidddin', man. I ain't gonna do that."
"How about you, Lisa. Will you go down on your mother?"
Lisa grinned. "Why not? Won't be the first time. She's made me do it to her lots of times."
CHAPTER TEN
The shades in the front room had been drawn, shutting out the sunlight and the room was just dark enough to make the scene potentially interesting to him. He instructed the reluctant woman to lie on the carpet and to remove her dress before doing so. She did it but swore softly to herself and, when she was naked, he himself undressed the girl and patted her on the buttocks.
"Give me a good show, Lisa," he said. "Excite me all you can."
"All right, mister. I will."
Mason lay on the sofa with a drink in his hands. He was glad he was some distance away from them. Being too close would not have been as much fun. He took a swallow of the whiskey and looked at the naked woman on the floor. She was lying on her side, her head held up by her hand and elbow and looking at him while the girl stood nearby.
"I'm doing this," the woman said, "because you paid me, buster, but I don't like this sort of weird deal. Not at all."
"You do, too," Lisa said. "Why you got to lie so much you've done everything there is to do in front of men."
"Shut up, you little fool!" the woman cried.
The girl did not flinch but leaned down suddenly and kissed her mother on the cunt. The woman changed her entire manner instantly. Mason saw her hand reach out and stroke the child's hair.
"Are you going to please mother, Dolly?" the woman said softly, her eyes half-closed.
"Yes," the girl replied, and ran her tongue up her mother's leg, stopping directly over her cunt.
Mason breathed heavily as he watched the fascinating scene. He was tremendously hard but had no interest in releasing himself. He wanted, at the moment, only to witness the incestuous relationship. He found it highly exciting and gratifying. The girl lay "n the floor, flat on her stomach, and between her moth r's outstretched legs. Mason saw her kiss thighs again and again. Both females set to be aware of his presence now, but were now creaming one another. Mason was the mother's breasts stood straight up. they seemed almost to be quivering with anticipation. Her stomach moved in and out as if she were breathing harshly, and her arms kept moving about nervously. Now and then her hand stroked the child's hair and back and buttocks.
The girl's smaller breasts hung straight down as she held herself up partially with one elbow. Mason saw the woman's right leg shoot out and hook about the daughter's neck and pull her down toward the older woman's cunt. He then saw the child bury her face in her mother's cunt and began to lick it feverishly. Lisa finally placed her hands under the buttocks of the mother and tried to raise her from the floor a little, but the grown woman was too heavy to be raised.
"Both of you," he barked. "Come here. Get on the sofa. I'll sit across from you and observe."
Lisa stopped her licking and got to her feet, the woman doing-likewise. But without speaking the woman sat down on a chair across from the sofa and spread her legs wide, one knee hooked over either arm of the upholstered furniture piece. Mason had started to get up from the sofa, but now he sank back down and turned on his side, the glass of whiskey still in his hand, and surveyed the new scene. Lisa sank to the floor, sitting on her haunches.
"Cream me, kid," the woman said, her voice trembling. "Cream me good. I got a load of it."
Lisa did not speak for the moment but buried her face in her mother's cunt again. Mason could see her head bobbing up and down and twisting this way and that way, but he could not see the actual sucking. This bothered him and he changed his position on the sofa putting his head where his feet had been. Now he could see well. The girl's tongue was busying itself inside the recesses of her mother's crevice and each time her tongue darted deeply within the older woman would stiffen and cry out, her eyes tightly closed. Things became so hectic between the two females that somehow the woman slipped off the chair and dropped to the carpeting directly in front of Mason. The girl's mouth and tongue had followed her mother's movement and contact between them was not interrupted at all. The girl was acting strange, sucking in air, jerking her head about crazily, grabbing onto her mother's buttocks as though fearful the older woman would suddenly disappear into thin air.
"Suck it, kid," Lois cried loudly. "Suck me off, you little fool." Her long, shapely legs shot about the child's neck and held her in a vise-like grip. "Make me blow, baby!" she cried. "Make mother blow hard."
The girl released her mother's cheeks and, reaching up, grabbed each breast and clung to them as if life depended on hanging to them. Mason saw the look of pain on the woman's face as her child yanked hard on her breasts, apparently endeavoring to force her lips and tongue farther inside the older woman's crevice. Once the mother moved quickly, almost violently, as the girl sucking her must have struck a vitally sensitive spot, for the two females seemed to leap away from one another by mistake, the contact broken between tongue and cunt. Frantically, they clawed at one another, moaning and crying out, and trying to re-establish their former position. They accomplished it after a good deal of moving of bodies and threshing of legs and arms, with heads jerking and tongues flying. Mason stared at the mother. Her tongue was out and she appeared to be sucking at an imaginary cunt. He felt the sudden of sap from him and, opening his trousers, lay with his hand over his penis, thoroughly enjoying himself and the passion that had spread throughout the room like heavy moisture.
Mason could scarcely contain himself now, and then when something unexpected happened, it became even more frantic for him. Eric came into the room, and strode quickly to the two women, his pants pulled down halfway to his knees, his penis erect and standing straight up and out from his body. Mason sucked in his breath harshly as the gypsy pulled the child down and away from her mother and threw himself on top of her. Mason saw him jabbing at the child's cunt, saw it entered roughly, saw the man move his hips about until his penis was all the way inside the girl. The gypsy was not content with this but grabbed the woman's legs and yanked her roughly down toward his face until his mouth was in the vicinity of her cunt. Mason caught his breath as he saw the man moving inside of the child and running his tongue deeply into the older woman. Both females were most agreeable to this, Mason saw. Their bodies seemed jerk and stiffen at one and the same time and the woman tried to wrap her legs about the gypsy's neck. The child had to turn her body away in order for her mother to accomplish her purposes. Mason was so excited he thought his heart was going to leap out of his mouth As the gypsy worked both women, as they cried out and moaned and beat the floor with their fists, the whole scene looked as if it had been planned...
When the trio of the floor appeared to be reaching a collective climax, he, too, reached one of great intensity and with a groan escaping his lips, took hold of his penis and held it while the scalding fluid squirted from him, soaking the carpeting all about the sofa
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Everyone save Mason was on his feet now, the wild scene for the moment terminated. He had spilled his drink on the carpet and it had mingled with his body fluid and now as he glanced down, at it, he smiled happily. He had never been so pleased with himself as he was now. Everything had worked out beautifully. He had manipulated the females into putting on a scene he most wanted to see, having never witnessed anything of the sort before. Indeed, he had actually been skeptical that women did these things to one another, though like everyone else who leads a fairly sheltered life he had heard of such goings on.
"How did you like it, sir?" Eric asked as he pulled his pants up in place. "Did it please you, sir?"
Mason nodded and replaced his penis in Me trousers. "It was excellent. I had no idea you were in the house, Eric."
"I had been to the village. Kent is still there though she will be back presently. "Eric cleared his throat "The older female, sir. Will you introduced me, please?"
Mason thought this was the height of absurdity. Introducing a man to a woman he had recently and publicly sucked off surely had to be a ridiculous move, but he did it anyway.
"Lois, may I present Erie."
Lois smiled at the gypsy. "Hello," she said seductively.
The gypsy bowed to her. "You have a fine, moat crevice, madame Thank you for allowing me the pleasure of caressing it."
"Quite all right. Would you care to try something else?"
Again the gypsy bowed to her. "I should be happy to, provided the master wishes to view the scene."
"Not right now, please," Mason said, smiling. "I don't think my blood pressure could stand it" He got to his feet, bowed to the three of them slightly. "I'm going to my room. Please continue to enjoy one another. There is plenty of whiskey in the cabinet." He left the room and going to his bedroom, flung himself down on the bed and slept like a baby.
When he awakened, it was dark in the room. He sat up on the bed and stretched his arms high before reaching to turn on a light. Getting to his feet, he noticed his clothing was badly wrinkled, so he removed it and, after taking a bath, replaced it with a robe.
He walked to the large front room and peered into it. The only person in the room was Kera and she was sitting in a corner sewing by hand. He approached her, but apparently she had not seen him, for when he came close to her, she glanced up at him suddenly and a smile crossed her pretty lips.
"Oh, master," she cried. "I didn't hear you enter."
He frowned. "Why do you keep on with calling me master?"
"Don't you wish me to, sir?"
He shrugged. "If you want to, I suppose it's all right. It makes me feel rather odd, that's all."
"I would never do anything to offend you, sir."
"Forget it," he told her. "Call me whatever you wish. I don't really mind." He cleared his throat. "Where are the others, the new woman included?"
"Eric took her for a walk about the place. The child went, too."
"A walk? But it's pitch-dark outside."
"Yes, I know. They left while it was still light. Is there ... something I can do to serve you, master?"
Mason felt a mild hatred creep into him momentarily. "I'm not sure I'd want to have anything to do with a female who has intercourse with animals," he cried.
The woman's face blanched. "Oh, sir, please do not condemn me for my wild moment of strange passion. I couldn't help it, believe me, sir. Something terrible happened to me. I became like a crazy person. I ... "
"I prefer not to discuss it, please," he said coldly. "Don't let it happen again. It displeased me greatly." This was not quite the truth, but he might as well let her think he was displeased. Besides, it made him feel better to have said it.
"May I just say one thing, sir," she asked with apparent caution.
"Yes, of course."
"I know that you, a modern day male, will not believe or accept this, but it is a face that every woman has a deep-seated ages-old desire, at times, to mate with an animal, a dog especially. My people know this, but few other people do, apparently. It goes back a very long ways. To the time when men and their mates lived in caves and the only friends they had were dogs. Whenever the man would be gone for weeks on hunting expeditions there was nothing for the woman to do, so she began to experiment with the family dog."
"I don't believe that for one moment," he cried hoarsely. "That's something you've made up to excuse yourself. And your actions."
She shook her head. "In our ancient history there are many thinly disguised accents of women mating with males other than humans. You may not like to think about it, and neither do our women usually, but it is a fact.
"Sorry," he said coldly. "I think you are lying to me."
"Very well, sir," she said meekly. "Then I shall stop talking about it."
"By all means stop talking about it. I find it revolting."
Kera was silent for a time, going on with her sewing and not looking up at him. "Sir," she said softly and at length, "the new woman. She is the child's mother, I take it."
"Yes."
"Aren't you afraid of her, sir, if I may say so."
"Why?" Mason was frowning again. "Because ... she may try to take advantage of you, sir."
"You mean because she knows I have been loving her child?"
"Exactly, sir. The woman doesn't strike me as being very ... shall I say scrupulous? She may try to force you to support her now."
"That thought had crossed my mind, Kera. I think I can handle her."
"I should be glad to assist you in any way I could."
"Thank you, Kera."
Kera was sewing more rapidly now. "Perhaps, sir, a bit of ... poison in her whiskey?"
Mason was aghast at the suggestion. "Good heavens no, Kera. Put such thoughts out of your mind. I could never be a party to a thing like that."
Kera sighed. "Sometimes it is necessary to use harsh measures, master."
"No, no. I won't hear of it. Put it out of your mind immediately. Do you understand?"
"This woman," Kera went on, "she is going to suck the life blood out of you if she can, sir."
"I doubt that she's smart enough to succeed."
"With your permission, master, I should like to keep a close tab on her. May I?"
Mason nodded. "Yes, you may do that, but you are not to make an attempt on her' life."
"She is an evil, sinful person, sir."
"Aren't we all," he murmured.
"I beg your pardon, master, I didn't quite hear you."
"Never mind. I was merely mumbling to myself." A thought occurred to him. "Did you get rid of that. . .beast, as I told you to?"
She did not look at him. "I believe Eric took him away, sir."
"Don't you know for certain?" he demanded harshly.
"Yes. Eric took him away, sir."
"Good," he said, and turned away.
"Sir," she said quickly, "would you do something for me, please?"
Mason turned back around and stared at her, seeing the long, glossy black hair hanging down around her flawless shoulders and noting the way her breasts, only partially concealed by her dress, jutted out from her torso. "Yes, of course, Kera. What is it?"
She put her sewing down. "Would you play for me?"
"You mean the piano?"
Her red lips curved into an entrancing smile. "Yes, master."
"I would be glad to. Do you really like the piano that much?"
"I love to hear you play, sir. You are such a magnificent artist?"
"Very well. Come into the study with me, I'll play for you. What would you like to hear?"
"That same sonata you played before. It excites me."
He was seated at the piano now and she sat on the floor at his feet, her dark eyes flashing up at him suggestively. He felt the urge to grab her and forget about playing, but something prevented him. As he struck a soft minor chord, she placed her hand on his thigh and he could feel the slight pressure she exerted on him there. He moved off the first chord onto another, running a few notes in the Lydian mode concept, and the moment he did this, she moaned.
"You like the Lydian mode, don't you? It originated in your part of the world."
"I don't know what that is, master, but it is beautiful."
"So are you, my dear," he said softly. He played slowly, artistically and with feeling, doing this purposely to see what effect it might have on her. It had a good, effect, he soon saw. She began to breathe more deeply and her eyes were half-closed as she listened to his artistry. A look of rapture was on her lovely face and Mason was deeply stirred.
"Place your hand in a different place," he murmured.
Her eyes still half-closed, she moved her hand from his thigh to the region of his penis. He felt himself growing hard as she lightly caressed him there, a few moments later pulling open his robe and taking it out and rubbing both her hands over it with delicacy.
"I love this," she said softly. "You excite me so, sir."
"And you me," he replied. He struck a few rather savage-sounding chords and she withdrew her hands immediately, a strange look on her face.
"Did that belong in the piece?" she asked, looking puzzled as well.
"No. I'm sorry," he said. 'I'll stick to the sonata."
"Please do so, master," she begged.
He went into the second movement of the sonata prematurely for a good reason. It was a somewhat jerky type of rhythmic pattern and he wanted her to keep time with it, which she did immediately, with her hands on his penis.
"No," he said softly. "Your lips, please, Kera."
"Yes, master. Of course."
He continued to play the rhythmic figurations and she was caught up in the mood of it, apparently, for her head began to bob up and down, her lips circling his penis livingly, and each time she brought her head up, her tongue would glide expertly across the head of the penis. This nearly drove him to distraction, but somehow he managed to keep on playing softly, evenly, wanting her to caress him in accordance with the beat. Finally, he moved into the fourth movement of the sonata-preferring to skip the third, for it was slow and legato and this was even more meant to be played with rhythmic figurations and in addition the tempo increased. The gypsy woman increased her tempo along with the music and soon Mason felt a slight squirting taking place. Immediately, he slowed the music down, not wanting her to suck him off completely just yet, but preferring to prolong it as much as possible. Her head continued to bob up and down, her lips grasping him more tightly now and causing greater thrills to run up and down his spine.
"Wonderful," he breathed. "You are a jewel, my dear."
She removed her lips from his penis momentarily. "I love this master. It is so refreshing and delightful. I could do it forever and ever."
"I would like to do it forever," he murmured.
"Make it last a very long time, sir. Please?"
"I shall try," he assured her.
He played more softly now than at any time previously. She fastened her lips about him again and now used her tongue on him, keeping time with the music.
He played on and on and knew thrill after thrill as she kept pace with him. Her passion was almost as great as his, for her breasts heaved to such an extent that they popped out of her low-cut dress and were bare to him. He kept on playing softly but more quickly now, his glance fastened on those great round glands of love so near his body. Each time she breathed the breasts moved in and out and, when she shifted her position once, the glands struck his stomach and he wanted to yank off his clothing so that he might feel the warm contact of them against his flesh.
But there was no time for this.
He felt it approaching and tried to hold it back just a little, just enough to make it rise to fever pitch.
He struck a savage chord when he felt the heat of him beginning to pass from his body to hers.
She moaned and paying no attention to the music now, attacked his penis roughly with her mouth. He inadvertently struck an incorrect chord and sat holding it down as he savagely blew his passion into her willing mouth and throat; she kept on with her mouth until he had been drained dry and then she cleansed him with her tongue and he fell over, his head striking the keyboard, his heart hammering furiously, a groan escaping from his tortured lips.
"Oh, thank you, thank you, my darling," he moaned.
"I thank you, my master," she breathed.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he kept repeating. Then: "I shall be eternally grateful to you for this."
He could say no more, for she had risen and crawled upon the bench, her knees straddling his legs, her cunt pressed fiercely against his mouth. He allowed himself to be engulfed in her continued passion and, as his tongue sought out her sensitivity, she squealed and wrapped her arms about his head, holding on with a vise-like grip. Secretion flowed from her and he could taste the bitter sweet of it as it passed over his trembling lips.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mason left the room and walked down the hallway, and peered into his own room. The girl, Lisa, lay sleeping on his bed . She was half-nude, her cunt fully exposed.
"Lisa," he said, speaking close to her ear. "Wake up."
She stirred and he spoke her name again and more loudly. She opened her eyes, blinked them, squinted at him also. "Hello, Mr. Randolph."
"Where have you been, Lisa?"
She giggled. "Eric took me to the village. I met a lot of gypsies. Boy, did I have fun. I like gypsies. I ... " She broke off and placed her hand over her cunt.
"Why did you do that?"
She giggled. "Afraid you might get hot for me, mister."
He straightened up and half-smiled. "Is that bad?"
"Boy, guess I've had about all the pounding I can take in one night Those gypsy men, boy, are they ever hot."
Mason frowned. "How many of them ... took you," my dear?"
"Gee, I don't know. Whole bunch of 'em."
He felt a stirring in his loins. "Tell me, my dear. Did you enjoy having a great many men take you?"
"It sure felt good. One of 'em would go off in me and pull it out and right away another would stick it in. Boy ... was I hot"
"Where are the others?"
"You mean Eric and Kera, or do you mean my mother?"
Mason cleared his throat. "I mean all of them. Where are they now?"
"A gypsy man took my mother home with him. Guess she wanted to stay all night with him. I'm not sure about this. Eric and Kera are here in the house somewhere. They were having trouble with Randy."
"You mean that beast is still in my house?"
She shook her head. "No. They took him somewhere, but I think he was sick or something."
"What kind of sickness was it Did they know?"
"I don't know that," She removed her hand from her cunt. "Would you like to do it to me, mister. Just thinking about those gypsies makes me all bothered up."
He moved away from her and wrinkled up his nose. "No thanks, kid. I have no desire to take you."
Her blue eyes went wide and she sat up quickly. "What's the matter? Are you mad at me again?"
"Go and take a good bath, please," he said, frowning heavily.
"What for?"
"You ... smell?" he said flatly. "Huh?"
"I said," he replied with exasperation in his tone, "that you smell. Do you understand that? You smell. Go and take a bath. A good one. Stay in the tub for an hour."
"I don't want to," she said sullenly.
"Either take one or I'll toss you in the tub and do it myself."
"Why you being mean to me, mister?"
"Goddamn you!" he shouted. "Do as I say."
She began to cry.
"Shut up," he barked.
She crawled off the bed, tears streaming down her pretty face. "Why are you so mean to me?"
"Because," he said evenly, "you smell."
"You mean I smell like the gypsies?" she asked, falteringly.
"No."
She screwed up her face as she stood on the floor looking at him. "Then what do you mean, I smell?"
He took a deep breath. "You little fool. I'll tell you since you seen determined to put on an act with me. You smell foul ... like an animal."
Her face grew red. "That ain't so!" she cried.
"The hell it isn't. You smell like that damned dog. Now go and take a bath or by God I'll beat you half to death."
"Don't hit me, mister, don't hit me."
He turned and strode out of the room, his whole body quivering with anger and repulsion. Going back to the front room, he had a drink and then, picking up the bottle, went to look for a different room in which to sleep. He was damned if he was going to sleep in his regular bed after she had lain on it smelling like a beast He was obliged to go upstairs-he had been up there only twice before-and look. He found a bed made up in a clean-looking room. He undressed silently and lay down en the bed nude, the bottle in his hands. One thing he was certain of. Tomorrow he was going to take the child back to the city and dump her off near the alley where he had picked her up. He had had it with her.
Mason dropped off to sleep with the light on, and it was quite some time later when he wakened to see Eric standing near the foot of file bed.
"Hello, sir," Eric said, revealing his white, even teeth. I'm sorry I wakened you. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Is there anything I can do for you?"
Mason studied the man. Was he making another offer to him? "There's nothing you can do for me. Except this: tomorrow I want you and your wife out of my house."
Erie's lips parted and his face flushed ever so little. "Is something wrong, sir? Have we offended you in some manner?"
"Yes. Definitely yon have. Now please leave me. I wish you to back to sleep." Eric stood his ground. "I think, sir, that you owe me an explanation." His dark eyes were smoldering.
"I don't care to talk about it. I want you two out of my house by morning. You can leave now, if you wish, both of you."
Eric bowed coldly. "Very well, sir. I confess I am at a loss to understand your anger, but if you do not wish your gypsy slaves about your establishment, then they most surely will depart ... and immediately, sir."
"Good. Good-bye to you both."
Eric bowed again and moved toward the door. "Good-bye, sir. I've enjoyed being your servant."
"Wait a minute," Mason said. "About the dog. Did you do away with him?"
"Do you mean kill him, sir?"
"I mean kill him Did you?"
The gypsy shook his head. "No sir. I turned him loose in the fields."
"He'll only come back. I won't have that."
"I'm sorry, sir. You just rejected the services of my wife and ... "
"Before you leave I want that animal killed, Eric."
The gypsy bowed again. "Very well. I'll do as you bid."
"Good. Eric ... "
The gypsy had started for the door again, but now he stopped and turned around, his face cold. "Yes sir. what is it, sir?"
"Thank you for ... doing what you have."
"My pleasure, sir. Mine and ... my wife's. Goodbye, sir."
"Good-bye."
The gypsy left and Mason sat up on the side of the bed and took another swallow of the whiskey. He felt irritated beyond measure. Drinking did not help him; it merely heightened everything, making it worse. Swearing, he got to his feet, pulled on his trousers and went downstairs to the piano. Often, when he was upset, he would play freely, improvising melodies and chord structures and progressions. This generally alleviated his feeling when those feelings were not up to par, not the sort of feeling he preferred having.
This time, however, it did not work, though he played for more than an hour, going up and down the keyboard and stricking all sorts of strange combinations of chordal effects. He swore and got up from the piano, glancing at his watch as he did so. It was one o'clock in the morning. He went quietly to the bedroom at the front of the house and peered in. The child had turned off the lights and he could not see her, but he could hear her steady breathing. A strange feeling came over him, causing him to shudder.
Mason Randolph wanted to kill something. He was an artist, and as such, felt himself above being; played for a sucker by gypsies.
To overcome this feeling, he sat down on the bed gingerly, not wanting to awaken the child, and placed his hand on her cunt lightly. Inserting his finger into her caused her to stir in her sleep and also to discharge wet and sticky fluid on his hand. He lifted his hand to his mouth and caught the odor of it. It was pure female. He breathed a sigh of relief and inserted his finger within the child again. Once more she stirred and flowed on him and again he lifted his hand to his nostrils and then to his lips, tasting of it. He lay down on the bed besides her carefully and, lowering his head, inserted his tongue into her crevice. The child stirred again and her hand dropped onto his head. He was startled, but there was no need for it because she did not awaken. He did not want her to know that he was sexually interest in her at the moment. He seemed to have a very strong desire to punish her in some way, punish her for having done the forbidden thing.
Had she done the forbidden thing?
The question arose in his mind several times during the following minutes, but the answer to it did not come to him convincingly. Perhaps she had not done it. Perhaps she had merely....
"Mister," the child muttered. "Love me please?"
He withdrew his finger quickly, his heart thumping wildly now.
"Mister," she repeated thickly, "make love to me."
Mason got up from the bed and walked hastily from the room. He had thought she was soundly sleeping, but apparently she was only half-asleep and had known at least unconsciously what he had been doing to her. He swore again and once more went to the studio room and struck a chord on the piano. Suddenly, inexplicably, he hated music in any form. He wanted to obtain an axe and smash the piano into a thousand pieces.
"Hold onto yourself, Mason, my boy," he muttered. "You're going off the deep end."
"What's the matter, mister?" the child asked from the doorway. "You're scowling like you're real mad again."
"Hello, Lisa," Mason said, struggling to calm himself. "Come in. Come over here to the piano."
She came to him and, although there was only a dim light in the room, he could see she was partially dressed. He reached out his hand to her and she took it confidently, as a ten-year-old would do.
"Lisa," he said, "how would you like to go back to the city tomorrow?"
She screwed up her pretty, young face. "What do you mean, mister?"
"I have an idea you may be growing tired of living here. Are you?"
She ran her tongue over her lips and shook her head. "Are you mad at me?" she asked, a surprising him.
"No. Not really. I asked you a question. Would you like to return to the city, go back and live where you were?"
Her eyes grew large. "You mean live at that awful place?"
He cleared his throat. "You see, Lisa, I have important concerts coming up in a few weeks. I must settle down to some very hard work. I'm afraid I'm not going to have the time to-er-entertain you."
"You wanna get rid of me. Is that it?"
He cleared his throat again, nervously this time". "Certainly not, my dear. I am merely trying to make some-er-provision for you." He felt it beneath himself to tell her he suspected she, as well as the gypsies, had been taking him.
She thrust out her lower lip in a pout. "What's that mean?"
"It means I want to see you taken care of. You are too young to be on your own, my dear."
"So that's why you brought my mother here. You hired her to take me away so you won't have to be bothered with me any more."
He shook his head though he suspected it to be subconsciously true. "I didn't know you had a mother, my dear child until you told me. My meeting up with her was purely a coincidence. It just happened. I ... "
She pouted again. "You don't like me no more. You want to get rid of me." Again she pouted. "You'd rather have her, that old bitch, my mother. I'll kill her. I will."
"Not true," he said rather stiffly. "I am not in the habit of lying to people, Lisa. I wish you would not suggest such a thing." He paused. "You should entertain such evil thoughts."
"You're just mad at me because I wanted a puppy dog. Why you hate puppy dogs so much, mister?"
Mason was taken aback and he did not know just why he felt this way. "I don't know," he told her honestly. "I have an aversion for them."
"Did you get bitten by a dog once or something?"
Something clicked in his mind. "Yes," he said. "I remember it now. When I was a boy, a dog bit me on the hand. He was ... mad. I had to take the shots for it. I couldn't play the piano for weeks. The shots made my arms very sore."
"You shouldn't hate puppy dogs just because one bit you, mister."
"That's not the entire reason, it's only a partial one. The real reason is ... "
"You think I'm doing something," she finished for him.
"Well ... are you-have you?" He leaned over to stare into her blue eyes, his pulse racing madly now.
"No. You just have a dirty mind." Her face was flushed, however, and it was not lost on him.
"Perhaps," he said. "But it seems more-likely to me that you, my dear child, have a dirty mind."
Her face became angry now. "You're just a dirty old man. I know all about your kind. You're dirty, dirty, dirty. All you want is to have fun with girls, but when you get tired of them, you want to throw them out. You're a dirty old man," Lisa was shouting now.
"Shut up," he said sternly, unsettled by her remark because he felt there might be some justification for it. After all, he was, in the eyes of the narrow-minded segment of people, a dirty old man. His actions with the child, bringing her here, having intercourse with her, stamped him as much. Mason was not a fool. He was fully aware of what much of society thought about older men having affairs with young females. It would be, he reflected, probably much better for him now to keep the child's mother instead of the child.
Strangely she changed the subject, some of the resentment having left her face. "Where is Eric and Kera? What have you done to them?"
"I sent them away." The child's mother, he reflected, would make a good sex partner for him until the concerts began.
"Why?"
Mason sighed. "It seems to me that for a very young person you are rather impudent with all your questions."
"Maybe I am impudent, but I ain't a dirty old man."
"My dear child, of course you aren't. In fact, you're nothing; at all. Do you hear? Nothing at all. You're merely a street waif someone picked up to amuse himself with."
"You're just awful!" she cried, raising her voice to a shout again. "I hate you!"
Mason leaned back against the piano, his arm touching the keyboard and producing a most non-harmonic sound. He lifted his arm immediately and frowned at the cacophony. "You shouldn't speak in this manner to me, my dear. You're only a little child."
"I'm a girl, not a child. I'm a girl and you're a dirty old man. I hate you."
"Hate away and be damned," he said crossly. "I'm a bit sick of your opinions."
"Are you sick of my cunt, too?"
He smiled tensely. "No. Not at all."
"Well, you ain't gonna stick it into me no more, mister."
Mason laughed. "That's not for you to say, my child." He laughed again. "I'll do as I please."
"No, you won't. I won't let you. You ain't gonna get me to suck you off no more, either."
"Oh, I think you would if I told you to, dear."
"Don't you call me dear. I hate you, you dirty old man."
"Come now. Stop calling me that. I'm not that old."
"Dirty old man," she spat. "You keep on with this crazy talk and I shall become most angry with you, my child."
"I'm not your child. Don't call me that."
"I think I just told you to stop talking in this manner to me."
"I'll talk any old way I want to, mister. I ain't scared of you. Eric told me all about what kind of a man you really are."
"Really? And how would he know?"
"Because he's a real man, he ain't no dirty old sissy guy who all he can do is plunk at a piano."
This amused Mason. "So that's what you think I am-a dirty old sissy? I'm sorry, my dear. I'm not a sissy."
"Well all you do is play piano. Ain't that being a sissy?"
"Suppose it might appear so to a person of limited intelligence." Mason was thoroughly angry now and his tone indicated it.
"You saying I'm dumb?"
"I haven't seen any evidence of your abilities other than to spread you legs or open your mouth." Mason did not really want to talk to her in this manner. He felt it belittling for him to have to resort to unkind words, but she appeared to be trying to force him into an angry state of mind. Better that he should release it by words than by some thing more violent.
She came close to him and kissed his mouth unexpectedly. "There," she said. "That's what I can do. Can you do anything better than that?"
Mason snorted. "The philosophers," he said gravely, "would contend that you have a valid point However, philosophers are not known to be often correct in the realistic world."
"I don't know nothin' about that stuff."
"Of course you don't, my dear, and I apologize for mentioning it to you. As you say, you are capable of love ... of a sort. That is, I admit, a good thing, and I'm sorry I lost my temper a while ago."
She began to cry. "So'm I, master, so'm I. Honest I am. You ain't no dirty old man. You're ... kind and nice and I ... love you just an awful lot."
He stared at her in confusion. What kind of talk was this after speaking all those horrible things to him? She had called him a dirty old man, a dirty old sissy, and now, suddenly, she had reversed her actions and told him he was not a dirty old man, that she loved him.
Mason's heart had been growing hard for some hours now but he was astonished at how quickly the hardness had left his heart. "I must be a gentleman," he murmured. "I can't remain angry at anyone for long."
"What did you say, mister?" she asked, screwing up her child's face oddly.
"I was murmuring to myself," he told her. "A bad habit of mine, I suppose."
"I got bad habits, too," she confessed.
He arched his brows. "Really. And what are they, my dear?"
"I like to kill things sometimes," she blurted. "Surely you don't mean me, my dear?"
She shook her head. "Nope, Not you, mister. Guess I love you. Guess I love you an awful lot. Guess I always will, too, if you'll let me." A giggle escaped from her lips and this, caused him to stare at her.
Her teeth were set together as if she were biting down hard on something. "What is it?" he asked.
She giggled again. "Guess I'd just love to bite you in two, I love you so much," she chortled.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
He was amazed at the way he tenderly carried her upstairs to the bedroom and placed her on the bed. She clung to his neck, kissing his lips and cheeks passionately. Hia heart was beating fast, but it was not the same kind of fast, lustful beat it had been when he had touched her on previous occasions. This time he had a very great and deep feeling for her. Her words to him downstairs had done something fine for him, had changed his outlook. He had really believed her when she told him so passionately how she loved him. This was a new experience for Mason Randolph. No one had ever told him they loved him for himself, though many people had said they loved him for the great enjoyment and pleasure he brought to them through his piano artistry. It was refreshing, he now knew, to be loved simply because he was ... lovable. At least, he hoped he was lovable. He had never spent much time or thought on such a matter his whole existence, it seemed, had been taken up with the perfection of his art, with occasional side trips into the area of sex.
"Mr. Randolph," she whispered in his ear as they lay side by side. "May I play with you a little bit?"
He kissed her mouth gently. "Of course you may, my dear. You may do anything your heart desires."
"I'm kind of glad we had that big fight. I feel better now, better'n I ever have in my whole life."
"Really. Is that true, my dear?"
"Yes. I've always been afraid of everything, but I don't think I'm going to be that way any more."
"I never thought you were very afraid of things, my dear. I thought you had remarkable courage for a young girl."
"I just made believe I did. I didn't really. Remember the night we had that storm, the first one? Remember what a baby I was?"
"A tornado is not something to be unafraid of, my dear. Only a fool is unafraid of a tornado."
"Just the same I was an awful baby then. I guess Kera taught me a lot of things, but I learned the most from you."
"Kera was quite a teacher," he said gravely. "The thing about her teaching was that the subject was always gypsy sin."
"What is sin, Mr. Randolph?"
"It depends on what you've been taught, I suppose. Sin ... I really don't know how to define it.
For some people it's anything having to do with fun. With others it's something quite different."
"What is it to you."
"Cruelty is the worst sin, I think. Being cruel to others."
"Have you ever been real cruel to others."
"I should imagine so. But if I have, I'm not proud of it."
"I like to be nice to people," she said, and snuggled her head on his shoulder. "I like to be nice to you more than anybody." She looked up at him and set her teeth again in that strange way she had done it before.
He put his arm about her small body and drew her closer to him. He was surprised that he should not have an erection for each of the other times he had been in bed with her this had been the first thing to happen. He felt strangely different now and wondered if the feeling would last. When she kissed his shoulder, he felt a shiver of delight pass through him and he patted her head lovingly.
"Would you like me to please you, sir?" she asked, mimicking the gypsy woman's of speaking.
"If you wish, my dear. Do you think you would like to?"
"Yes. I'd like to please you. I'd like to please you always." Her teeth were set again, he noted.
"Very well. You may do as you wish, my dear."
She buried her face on his chest and kissed him there, running her tongue lightly over his flesh. This cause him to become very erect. Her hand stole downward and fastened about his penis and she lovingly manipulated it, causing him to breathe faster.
"I love you, air," she whispered. "I just love you so much."
"Thank you, my dear."
"If you go somewhere else, please take me with you, sir."
This remark make his body shudder.
"What's wrong, sir? Don't you want to take me with you if you go somewhere else?"
"Of course I do, my dear girl. But please ... don't speak of it just now. I prefer not to talk at the moment."
But she appeared to want to talk, so he let her. "Mister," she said between kisses on his stomach, "I found out how old I am. My mother said I was thirteen."
"Oh ... "
"Kera told me something. She said when she was thirteen a-a dog fucked to her. She said ... "
"Please don't talk about it," he said. "Why not?"
"Just keep on with your loving. Don't talk about what Kera did when she was thirteen."
"But she said that all gypsy girls have a dog when they are thirteen. She said it was the exciting thing to do. She said ... "
"Don't talk about her any more, my dear. Kera is a gypsy."
"Well, I was only trying to tell you that she tried to get me to let my dog do it to me and ... "
"You didn't, did you?" he asked quickly.
"Yes. I loved my puppy dog several times, but it wasn't like loving you."
Mason sucked in a large amount of air and let it out noisily. He was vastly relieved and knew for certain now what it was that had been troubling him so much. He had been deathly afraid that the girl had gotten herself involved in ... that horrible situation, and it pleased him to discover it had been just his own imagination, and that knowing the truth did not bother him
"You're a very nice girl," he murmured. "I'm growing more fond of you all the time"
She said nothing to this but merely kissed his stomach again.
"You've made me very happy, Lisa. I'm so glad you came here with me."
The girl still did not speak, but again kissed his stomach.
"Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Yes." She changed the subject, however. "Are you gonna let my mother live with us. She wants to. She wants you to support her." Her lip curled as she spoke.
"I suppose so. After all, she is your mother. I owe her something for having brought you into my life, so to speak."
She kissed his stomach again. "What do you mean by that?"
"Oh, I don't know. Put it this way. I have quite a bit of money coming in all the time and no one to spend it on. Why shouldn't I support your mother if that's what you want."
"I don't like her," the girl said bitterly. The bitterness left her face.
"Kiss me again," he said softly.
She did so.
"I like that. Do it again."
"All right Want me to kiss you down lower?"
"Yes, if you want to."
She kissed him down lower.
"I like that even better," he said.
"Would you like me to make you go off?"
"Yes, if you want to."
"I just as soon."
"All right Make me go off, Lisa."
"I like for you to call me by my name."
"All right. I'll try to remember that ... Lisa."
She took him between her lips and he felt his pulse quickening as it always did when she became passionate toward him.
"I love that" he said. "Can you do it faster?"
But she had stopped it "Hey," she said. "How come men like you like to take Vantage of young girls like me?"
Mason laughed. "Oh, it's very exciting, I suppose."
"Would you let me take Vantage of you."
"Certainly. What would you like to do."
"You mean, how would I like to do it."
"Yes. How would you like to take advantage of me?"
She giggled. "I'd like to seduce you. Is that the right word?"
"Seduce? Yes, that's the right word. If you want to seduce me, go ahead."
"I couldn't seduce you. You're a man and I'm just a kid."
"Maybe you can think of some way."
"How about if I make you helpless?" She had set her teeth again and was staring at him lustfully.
"How would you do that?" he asked, his pulse quickening even more.
"How about if you let me tie your hands up? Then I'll seduce you and you won't be able to protect yourself from me?" A strange sounding giggle came from her lips.
Mason thought this was quite amusing as well as exciting. "All right. Get a rope or something and you can tie my hands. Then I'll be helpless and you can do whatever you want to me."
She. bounded off the bed, ran from the room and returned a minute later with a strong-looking cord. She came directly to the bed. "Put your hands behind your back, sir."
"Do you really want to do this?" he asked, smiling.
"Yup. I think it would be lots of fan." Again, her teeth were set tightly together.
Mason lay on his back and placed his hands together at the rear of his body. "There you are. Tie my hands together. Are you going to let me go free after you have seduced me?"
"Sure ... only I don't think I really want to tie your hands."
"Oh, come on now. You do want to. I can tell by the excitement in those pretty blue eyes of yours. Tie my hands. Make it real, my dear. Have your fun while you can."
She tied his hands securely behind his back. He turned and lay flat and looked up at her small face so close to his own. "You're something," he said softly. "You really amuse me sometimes."
She giggled. "I'm glad. I want you to be happy, mister." She tied his feet together with the remainder of the cord and then to the foot of the bed. "There," she said, giggling again. "I got you at my mercy, mister. Now I'm going to seduce yon just as I please."
Mason smiled. "All right, my dear, please do so. Enjoy yourself. Take me good. I want yon to really take me good. Understand, honey?"
She looked at him and smiled nicely. "Gee, this is fun. Now I know how men feel when they get to seduce a young girl. It kind of makes you feel wonderful, don't it, mister?"
"Yes," he agreed. "It does make you feel wonderful. Makes you feel powerful, doesn't it?"
"Boy, I'll say it does. You know, I kind of like it Feeling powerful. Stuff like that. You ready to have me seduce you good now, mister?"
"Of course," he said, "but you didn't have to tie my feet, too. I wouldn't spoil your fun by trying to get free."
"I know you wouldn't, but ifs more fun when you're all tied up."
"All right" he said, and smiled at her again. "So I'm all tied up. Go ahead with what you want to do to me."
"Do you like it so far, mister?"
'I'll tell you better when you start to ... "
"You mean when I start to suck you?" She giggled again.
"Yes, only I didn't want to put it so bluntly."
She pouted. "Oh, you can say anything to me yon want to, mister. After all, I belong to you, don't IT
He nodded, amused. "Yes, if you want to belong to me, you do."
"Gee, I sure do want to belong to you. You're the nicest man in the whole world. Even Kera said so."
"That was nice of Kera. Nice of you, too, to say it"
She lowered her face to his erection. "Hold still now. I'm going to seduce you, mister."
He laughed nervously. "All right, proceed."
She looked up at him and giggled again. "I'll bet you wish you hadn't sent Eric and Kera away to starve to death, don't you, mister?"
He thought he had misunderstood her. "What?" he mumbled.
"Oh, nothing," she said gaily. "I'll bet you thought you was sure some big shot when you told Eric to kill my puppy dog, too, didn't you, mister?"
A bit of cold sweat had appeared on Mason Randolph's brow. "What are you getting at Lisa? I don't understand that kind of talk."
"I know you don't mister You just understand your own kind of talk, your own selfish stuff. Everything is what you want"
She paused and giggled. "You see, I saw Eric kill my dog. It was awful. My poor puppy dog, he's dead. Makes me feel real bad, mister, real bad."
"Lisa," he said quickly. "Untie me, please."
She giggled. "Nope." She had, of course, removed her mouth from his penis.
More cold sweat appeared on his brow. "Lisa, what the hell are you doing to me?"
"I'm gonna tell you, mister. I'm gonna tell you real cold just like you told Eric to kill my puppy dog real cold. I'm gonna do something to you."
"Lisa," he said sharply. "Stop this. Don't play games with me. Untie my hands and feet."
"Nope. Too late for that, mister. I got me something to do first." "What in heaven's name are yon going to do to me?"
"Why, I'm just gonna do what you've always wanted me to do. I'm gonna suck you till you start to flow."
A feeling of relief passed through Mason. "Well, all right then. Why don't yon get on with it, honey r
"You're calling me 'honey' now, ain't you, mister?"
"You are my honey. Yon and I are going to have some fine times together, Lisa."
"You had my puppy dog killed, mister," she cried. "How can I ever have a fine time when my puppy dog is dead?"
"I'll get you ... another poppy, Lisa. Honest"
"Nope. Don't want no other puppy dog. Just want Randy."
"Why are you talking like this, acting tins way T
She lowered her head to his penis and took him between her lips, stopped it and looked up at him "You like the feel of my lips on it, mister T'
"Yes," he sighed. "Please get on with it"
"All right" she said, and giggled again. "Now I'm gonna do it to yon the way I want to."
Mason Randolph thought it most be someone else who was doing the frantic screaming. It couldn't possibly be he. Mason Randolph, could it? "Please," he sobbed between screams. "Please don't do ... this ... to ... met"
And then there was another scream that came from his tortured throat as the girl bit him the second time, and more fiercely. He knew then that her sharp teeth had bitten his penis off. She jumped to her feet, spat out the severed portion and ran to the door as he screamed again and again,, suffering the hellish agony of it.
"There you are, mister. I have seduced you my way," she cried spitefully. "How do you like it? Does ... it ... really ... hurt ... you? I hope it hurts you all the way to hell. Tell me, mister, does it really hurt awful bad?"
But Mason Randolph could not answer her then nor later. He could only lie there in cold, agonized horror and feel his life draining away. The last thing he was conscious of was her stupid, inane, little girl giggling as she ran down the hallway, leaving him to bleed to death.
------------------------------------
RAPE AND REVENGE BY ROBERT MOORE
CHAPTER ONE
When the first of them stepped in front of her, she felt annoyance. Then the second took up a place beside him, and the third stepped casually behind her, and she felt the first of fear. The school yard wall was on her left, and a car was close against the curb to her right, and there was simply nowhere to move.
One of the figures in front of her stepped forward, and she realized that he was quite young, not over eighteen. He was tall and slender and good looking, with black hair and dark eyes contrasted against a very white skin. He wore a windbreaker, dark blue or black, and a pair of good slacks.
"Miss Walsh?" he asked, and his voice was pleasant, deep for his age. The politeness of his tone gave her courage.
"Yes?" Her voice was cool and inquiring, the tone she used for her pupils.
"Will you please get in the car, ma'am?" he asked with a slight gesture of his head.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Believe me, we have no intention of hurting you, ma'am. The car. Please."
She looked at him more closely.
"I don't believe I know you."
"No, ma'am." He stood patiently, as though waiting for her to comply with an obviously reasonable request.
"Look, I'm really quite tired. Now you've made your little pitch and I'm not interested, so if you'll," She had started forward, but the other one stepped into her path. He was enormous, with shoulders of a pro football player. He was swarthy and dirty looking, with black peggers and a leather jacket.
She turned back to the rangy one.
"Look," she said in a reasonable tone. "I know how these things get started. You're out on the town, and maybe you have a bottle, and then you see a woman alone and you decide to make your try. Fine. No hard feelings. But I'm really much older than you ... "
"You're twenty-five, ma'am." He smiled at her startled look. "Your full name is Helen Carol Walsh. You teach third grade at Conquistador Grammar School. You live a 3229 Loma Vista St., Apt B. You are a graduate of Elmore College, upstate, where you were elected campus queen there years running without really wanting it. You almost never dated, and you almost never date now. You were graduate with all A's and B's except for one C in physical Education. The male members of the staff and faculty at Conquistador refer to you behind your back as the iron maiden. You like good novels and poetry. Oh, yes, and movies. You go to a movie every Friday night after school, and then walk home. Always by the same route. like tonight. So you see, ma'am, this is no impulsive action on our part. This is carefully planned. I know enough about you to write a biog. I've been very careful to get you in a helpless position. And you really are quite helpless. So just get in the car, ma'am, and no permanent harm will come to you, I promise."
It was then that the real fear hit, and instinctively she filled her lungs to scream. The big one brought up his fist, smashing it into her belly so hard it seemed to dig into her spine. Helen had never dreamed that pain could be so great. She bent double and fell to her knees, and fought hard at the vomit that filled her throat. A lock of auburn hair fell loose across her face. Over the roaring in her ears she heard the rangy one say, "Thanks, Tank. That was quick thinking."
"Any time, Danny boy, any time," the other said in a deep, guttural voice.
Hands grasped her arms and pulled her to her feet, and she felt herself being led and carried, and then a car door opened and the rangy one got in. She felt herself shoved into the car, and then the big one called Tank got in. The car front door opened and slammed and the engine started smoothly.
The car moved from the curb. Tank laughed and patted Helen's knee. She sat doubled forward, hugging her belly. The pain had crept upward into her breasts and down to her thighs. She still had to fight to keep from vomiting.
She didn't know how long they drove, but the town disappeared behind them and the powerful engine of. the car changed pitch as they began to climb. Walls of rock rose on either side of them. The headlights cut across a winding mountain road.
Finally the car stopped. The one in front got out and stepped into the glare of the headlights. He was short and scrawny and he wore glasses. A ridiculous sight. He opened a huge wrought iron gate, got out again to close it, then drove slowly along a narrow winding road. They seemed to go for miles. Finally the headlights fell on a cabin. Helen supposed it would be called a cabin. Actually it was larger than most houses. It was built into the mountainside, so that it was necessary to climb a long, steep staircase to reach the front door.
The pain had subsided, but her middle was still sore. They stood on either side of her, holding her arms as she walked up the stairs. The skinny one unlocked the door and they took her inside.
It was even larger than she had thought. The living room was a good twenty feet long by fifteen. A breakfast bar separated it from a gleaming kitchen. Doors on either side of her led, Helen supposed, to bedrooms, or perhaps one led to a rumpus room. Against the wall to her right was a bar, a wet bar she believed it was called, with its own plumbing. To the right of the kitchen was a staircase. They led her to the top, still holding her arms firmly. At the top they turned right twice and headed down a narrow hallway. The skinny one opened a door there and took her inside.
It was a bedroom, spacious and elegant and surprisingly feminine compared to the rest of the house. Blue drapes covered the wall opposite the door. To Helen's right stood a king size bed, Its head against the wall.
Danny and Tank sat on the foot of the bed.
"Eddie," Danny said, and the skinny one hauled a chair in front of the door and sat facing the middle of the room, where Helen stood. The three of them sat looking at her for a long moment. Tank had taken a large knife from his pocket and begun cleaning his nails with it. Helen stood looking at Danny, determined not to show the fear she felt. She realized her hands were rubbing her flanks, and she forced herself to stop the nervous gesture. Danny grinned.
"Now, ma'am,' he said, I'm afraid we'll have to trouble you to take off your clothes."
Helen swallowed hard and looked at the door. She tried to speak, but her voice was without control. She tried again.
"I certainly have no intention ... "
"Ma'am. please. Pardon me for interrupting, but we're in kind of a hurry to get started. Now you've been very good up till now. You've hardly given us any trouble at all. Don't spoil it now. Play the game by our rules and you'll leave here with no injuries. Be uncooperative and you'll get hurt. Badly. And it won't accomplish a thing. We'll still get what we want. Now please take off your clothes. Or I'll have to ask Tank to persuade you. Or maybe even help you."
Helen looked at the two young men. She took off the jacket of the business suit she was wearing and let it drop to the floor. She raised her hands to her throat, opened the top button of her starched white blouse. She started to open the next one. Her hand shook badly, and she failed. She tried again, but her hand fell away.
"Please. Please, I can't."
Danny pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket He shrugged.
"All right ma'am If that's the way it has to be. Oh, you don't mind if I smoke, do you?" He waited a moment then inserted the cigarette in his mouth and lighted it "All right Tank" he said, and a billow of smoke came with the words. "I guess you'll have to persuade the lady. Remember, though. Don't leave any marks."
The huge youth smiled, rising from the bed. He dropped the knife to the spread and started forward. Helen fell back a step.
"No. Please." She looked at Danny. Tank took another step. "Please don't" She fell back again. "All right. I'll do it Honestly. Just don't let him hit me."
"Tank." Danny's voice was casual. "Let the lady have her chance."
Tank stopped and returned to the bed. His disappointment was obvious. Danny looked at Helen for a long moment
"All right, ma'am, now I'm giving you your second chance. Please don't let me down."
Helen stood trying to keep from shaking. Her hands moved up and down her hips. She wondered where to start Danny grinned.
"How about your stockings."
"What?"
"You seemed unsure of where to start. I merely suggested that you begin with your stockings."
She felt perspiration on her forehead, yet her body was icy. She bit her lower lip until it hurt. There had hoped that she might get them to change their was no use stalling any longer, that was clear. She minds, or she might find a way to escape them. But undressed, or even partially undressed, her chances of doing either were materially lessened. But her midriff was still sore from the punch Tank had given her. She knew she couldn't stand another such blow, much less a series of them. She wasn't sure she could go through with what lay ahead, but she had to try. She had to keep alive, if possible, to see to it that these young barbarians paid for this night. She bit her Up and bent forward.
She lifted her skirt to the top of her right stocking and began to unfasten the garters. She tried not to hear the rustling of movement on the bed. the shifting of legs, the sharp intake of breath from the skinny one at the door, Tank's harsh "Shit!"
Her fingers were slick and unsteady and it seemed to take long minutes to unfasten the garters. Finally the stocking shriveled down the lenght of her leg, resting in a puddle around her ankle. She stepped out of the shoe and kicked the stocking off. The other stocking came off the same way, and then, without herself to think, she began to unbutton har blouse. She pulled it out of her skirt, shrugged it off.
The button on the side of her skirt came open on the third try. The zipper jammed twice, but finally the skirt dropped to the floor and she stepped free of it
She stood in the middle of the room in her slip and looked at her captors. They were mesmerized, staring at her with unblinking eyes. Except for Danny. He looked as fascinated as the others at what he saw emerging from a cocoon of cotton and wool and nylon, but there was a little smile on his face, a touch of reserve. He was very much in control of the situation.
Helen's breasts were heaving rapidly. She felt as though she were soaked in sweat though most of it was probably her imagination. Her breath was ragged and uneven. Only by a force of will was she able to keep her knees from buckling under her.
She stooped forward and took the fringed hem of her white slip all the way over her head. She couldn't see and she knew her appearance must be provocative, and she was afraid she would feel rough hands on her body at any second. But the slip finally came free and she looked wildly about her to see that they were all still in their places. Tank was rubbing a thigh with the heel of his hand. The skin-still had the same smile. She tried not to notice the way one, Eddie, looked at her open mouthed. Danny bulging at the fronts of their trousers.
She cast one last pleading glance at them. She saw no sign of mercy. The snaps of her bra were the hardest part of all. Her arms cramped behind her and she writhed, trying to get a hold on them.
"Want a hand?" Tank laughed.
Finally they opened. The bra fell away from her breasts quickly. She let it drop to the floor in front of her. Her breathing had turn to hard sobs. Tears blurred her vision.
"Kee-rist!" Tank rasped, and Eddie said, "Son of a bitch!" It sounded odd coming from his bespectacled face.
"The best is yet to come, my boys," Danny said. "Ma'am, would you please take off your panties now?"
Helen closed her eyes and shoved the white nylon panties down past her hips in one quick thrust. They hissed down the length of her thighs and fell in a puddle around her feet.
"Jee-sus!" Tank stamped on the carpeted floor with one booted foot. "I'm so hard it hurts."
"What do you think now, Tank?" Danny asked quietly. "Is she worth all the waiting and all the planning?"
"I gotta hand it to you, Danny boy, you sure can pick 'em. And you sure can get 'em."
"Naturally." Danny's voice was casual. "That's why I always go first. Right?"
Tank looked at him for a long moment.
"Yeah," he said finally. He heaved himself up from the edge of the bed and walked to the door. "Come on, little buddy," he said to Eddie. "You know how lover boy-likes his privacy. Let's you and me go have a warm up drink while he gets his rocks off."
"I don't think ?m gonna much warmin' up," Eddie said in an unsteady voice, and Tank laughed good naturedly.
Seeing them leave the room, Helen felt a new surge of panic. It was like losing a chaperon.
"Well, now," Danny said in a friendly voice. "Here we are, all by our little lonesome. I guess it's time we got a little better acquainted, ma'am." He stepped forward quickly. Helen tried to step back, but her feet tangled in the panties, and then he was right on top of her, towering over her. Casually, he reached forward and cupped one of her breasts. The actual contact, the tactile sensation, broke the control she'd maintained up till that moment.
She ran. Somehow she got her feet and she ran for the door, screaming. A hand gripped her right arm tightly and yanked her around. Another hand came down in a hard, chopping slap across her face. She bit off the scream.
"Scream if you want to," Danny said. "There's no one within twenty miles to hear you anyway. But don't try running. I went to a lot of trouble to get you up here, and I didn't do it so we could play tag. Understand?" He looked down at her for a moment. "Understand?" he repeated.
"Yes," she managed.
It only seemed to take him a minute to undress. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked the other way. When felt him approaching, she had to fight the impulse to jump up. He sat next to her. She could feel the heat of his body before he touched her. His left hand cupped one of her breasts while his right arm circled her waist. He drew close, stroking her breasts and back, kissed her. His tongue pushed between her closed lips, and despite herself Helen felt a thrill shoot through her body. He stood, lifted her legs to the bed and lay beside her.
His hands were very gentle. But his very gentleness seemed to convey contempt, as though he knew that she was helpless now, and there was no further need for force.
He stroked her breasts, teasing the nipples until they came erect, their color deping. Helen's body responded the stimulation, independent of her mind. She lay stiff and still, determined to give him nothing but the shell of her flesh, only what he could take by force, without her cooperation.
His mouth closed over her left breast, and she felt his tongue hot and wet, moving across her nipple. Her breath quickened, coming in short, convulsive gasps. She never felt this way before. She was amazed and humiliated by her own feelings. She wished he would do it, get it over with, before she lost her control enough to give away her feelings, the emotional storm that was raging in her, and which she didn't want him to know.
His mouth left her breast with a kiss, and moved to her throat, her shoulder, her mouth. He was like a gourmet moving across a table, sampling whatever his whin dictated. Helen felt a tremor move over her body, a trembling so slight she was surprised to see the reaction in him, surprised that he-had noticed it. He drew slightly away from her for a moment, smiling down into her face, and she felt herself flush.
He moved down again, kissed her lips very lightly, then moved to her breast again. He was lying beside her, and she could feel his penis, stiff and erect, against her hip.
His hand moved down over her belly, slowly stroking her, building a fire in her with each touch. Helen dug her nails into the spread, fighting to keep her emotions bottled inside her.
Danny's hand continued to move over her belly, dipping slightly lower each time, moving to her vagina. Helen's body tightened with effort. The hand slid around, moving past the target, down over her hip to her leg. It slid down the outside of her thigh, lightly, barely touching her skin, then moved to the inside.
It gripped the soft, full flesh there and inched upward. Very slowly. His organ was pressing more insistently against her now, and she knew that he was holding back, putting off the ultimate pleasure, taking time to stoke them both into passion.
Danny's hand reached her crotch now, and it moved slightly, just enough to add friction to the contact of flesh.
She tried to choke off the moan, but it came through her throat, low and full. She moved her head from side to side, her lips parting and the words starting to come out despite her.
"Oh, God. Oh, please, I can't stand it." Her legs parted of their own accord. Her arms were around his neck before she realized they had moved, and she drew him close, her lips moving over his skin. His knee moved between her thighs and pressed against her, and the contact excited her more.
"Now," she groaned. "Oh, please. Now. Please."
He laughed. She heard the sound as from a great distance. It was an agony, this feeling, this emotion she had never known before. A sweet agony.
Danny pulled her over to her side, and his hand moved over her buttocks, playing lightly over the smoothness of her skin. His lips moved over her cheek. His tongue darted into her ear. It was too much. It was like a fire inside her. She knew she would hate herself later for the things she was feeling, but she knew too that she couldn't help herself, it was just too much, why hadn't they told her it was like this, she couldn't control herself. If he didn't do it, now, right now, she would lose her mind.
Her hands were moving over his slim, hard body, across his back, over his buttocks. She could hear his breathing now, almost as rapid as her own.
Her hands slipped around in front of him. She touched his organ, and this time it was he who couldn't hold it in.
"Uh! Uh!" he grunted and started to pull away, She clamped down hard on it, and pulled him back to her. It was brick hard, and unbelievably large, throbbing in her hand like a separate organism with a life of its own.
Her thighs crawled up over his body, drawing him in, pulling him, locking him there. She felt his hands at her waist then her hips. She settled in the bed, opening her belly to him, and at the same time making her pelvis a couch to receive him.
His organ touched her, slid across her, missing its mark. She took it in her hands again and guided him into her, between the tight unused lips and deeper. There was a moment of sharp, burning pain as he penetrated, then it subsided into a dull soreness that was nothing to the other feeling, the feeling that swept over her whole body now, beginning there, in her vulva and running like an electric charge down her legs and up through her belly, the feeling that made everything that had gone before seem pale, and wan, and lifeless, and she thought that if this was what people did all the time, if this was how they populated the world, then she didn't see how they could stand it, how the pounding of their hearts, the throbbing of their temples, could keep from killing them. And then all thought slipped away, as wave after fresh wave of pleasure washed over like an ocean tide and she knew nothing outside of herself, nothing but this pleasure that was too great to stand and too great to give up....
Afterward, they lay beside each other, flaccid with relief, bloated with satisfaction. Danny rose tiredly from the bed and began to dress.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"Tell you ... ? Oh, that. Would it have made any difference?"
"No. But still, I'm surprised you didn't make the try."
"Why analyze it. You got what you wanted. Everything you wanted. Now just leave me alone, will you?"
"Sure, baby. Sure, I'll leave you alone. But there are a couple of gentlemen downstairs who are going to be rather insistent about enjoying some of your time."
Tank was next, as she had expected. He came into the room already naked and yelled "Sloppy seconds!" There was no gentleness from him, and no preliminaries, as there had been from Danny. He threw himself on her like a stallion, forcing himself into her body in one terrible thrust She screamed and heard his laugh above her. His hands clamped down on her breasts, no lightly, as Danny's had, but brutally twisting them until she screamed again.
She could feel his mouth moving over her face, her lips, her cheeks, down to her neck, slobbering over her like some huge, obscene animal while he jounced and pounded over her, his organ, huge and blunt, jetted his seed deep into her body.
When it was over, and he was spent, he lay beside her for a long moment, his hand stroking her pubic area casually. Then he stood up, looming over her like a giant bear, the thick black hair of his body matted with sweat. Helen noted with horrified amazement that his penis was erect again.
"We got rules," he said, and he wasn't even out of breath. "One at a time. Take turns. Danny's kinda hard nose about that. But I'll be back, bitch. Don't you worry about that. You ain't seen the last of me. Or felt the last of me, for that matter."
He lumbered toward the door, his manhood jutting out before him like a lance. As he stepped through the door Helen heard him say. "She's all yours, little buddy."
Eddie came through the door, naked except for his wire rimmed glasses. His penis was huge, almost comically out of proportion to the rest of him. It was already stiff. He came up beside the bed and looked down at her, his eyes were huge behind their transparent shields.
"Son of a bitch," he breathed. "Son-of-a-bitch! I can't believe it. I thought the others were nice. But this is too good to believe." He lay beside her. One hand touched her belly, and she drew away reflexively. He was even more repulsive to her than Tank had been. He slapped her belly, hard, the contact making a sound like a pistol shot. She forced herself to lie still as he stroked her. She was grimy now, from contact with two previous men, sweaty and hot, but Eddie didn't seem to mind it, Dr even notice it
Eddie apparently wanted to prolong things, to savor what was to come, as Danny had. But impatience got the better of him, for after he had stroked her for a while one of his hands cupped a breast. The other closed over her vulva, the heel of it near her abdomen, the fingers pressed into her crotch. Both hands worked a little, stroking her, massaging her. He spread her legs and came between them, pressing his body down on her. She could feel his sex between her legs, feel the sudden dampness as he lost control.
He raised himself again and this time came down into her, and she could feel his organ pumping and emptying itself into her as he moved, up and down, in a monotonous rhythm.
Then he was gone, and Tank came in again, a look of malicious joy on his face. He ripped into her as roughly as before, his seed jetting into her immediately. The pain was the only thing she felt any more. Vaguely, she realized that she must be in a state of shock, beyond humiliation or fear, with only the dulled, muted pain reaching her.
When Tank was through, Eddie came in again, and lay down without a word. He kissed her this time, a deep, damp kiss that seemed to go on for hours. She felt the wire rim of his glasses bite into her face.
Everything went fuzzy after that. The two of them, Tank and Eddie, Tank and Eddie, entering her body as casually as they would pick their teeth, a kaleidoscope of horrid images. It was like a badly focused movie that kept slipping into slow motion and back to regular speed again. She was never able to remember it very clearly later, and she was grateful for that small mercy. At times she would lose all awareness of her surroundings, and wake up to find that they switched again. At times she was completely unaware of which of them was on top of her, sweating and grunting and pawing at her body and her hair.
It had been hours, she didn't know how many, when Danny finally came back into the room. He nudged her and spoke her name.
"No," she said. "Please." The plea was reflexive. She had given up on it long before.
"Get up. Miss Walsh. It's time to go home."
She looked up at him, then at the ceiling. "It's over?"
"Just about, ma'am. Please get up." He helped her to her feet. She stood unsteadily. The pain was general now, from head to foot. The others stood near the doorway, grinning.
"You know, Tank said, "that's the best looking cunt we've had yet. Shit, I can't even look at her without wanting to start all over again."
"Be glad to oblige you," Danny said. "But it's getting late, old buddy, and I want to get the lady home before daylight"
Helen reached for her clothes, which someone had thrown into a chair.
"Not quite yet, ma'am." Danny said. "First we want to get a few little mementoes of this occasion."
Helen noticed for the first time that he had a camera in his hand. It was a Polaroid, one of the expensive models.
She would remember it later as a time blurred by flashbulbs and filled with orders from Danny. She posed for more pictures than she could count. She forced herself to smile as they told her. She posed alone and with different combinations of the boys. When she show the pictures she realized how clever Danny had been with his camera. In each of them her face was either partially obscured or shown from such an angle and in light so arranged that her forced smile seemed real.
When the pictures had been taken, they seated her at a small desk in the corner of the bedroom and gave her suggestive inscriptions to write on the backs of them. Somehow she managed to write with a steady hand.
Finally they let her dress. Danny faced her.
"You know, ma'am, if you should decide to go to the police about this little tryst, we'd just naturally have to drag out all these lovely little photos. In a court of law they'd look pretty bad. They might not keep us from being convicted, but they'd make the conviction mutual, you might say. We'd send some to the local papers, too, and to your principal. And maybe to some of the unmarried male teachers at your school. The ones who've tried to date you and haven't been able to. What do you think they're going to want to believe?"
"All right, you've made your point." Helen said. "Now will you take me back to town. Or are you just going to dump me out on the road and make me walk?"
"Why of course not, Miss Walsh. We're going to see to it that you reach home all safe and sound. No telling what kind of kooks you might run into in the middle of the night. But before we do take you home, there's just one little thing."
She was beyond fear now, back to the annoyance that had been her original reaction to them. The feeling that ran through her at Danny's words was summarized as what now.
Tank produced a bottle of whiskey, a big one, a fifth Helen believed it was called. He handed it to Danny, who broke the seal expertly.
"If you expect me to drink any of that," Helen said with what arcliness was left in her, "you're crazy."
Danny shrugged.
"Sorry you feel that way, Miss Walsh. You see, it occurs to us that you might decide to go to the police despite all those charming pictures we just took of you. You might think that if you went right now, tonight, they might believe you. So we've got to see to it that you don't do that. And that if you do, you won't present a very trustworthy picture." He nodded to someone behind her.
Suddenly someone grabbed Helen from behind, pinning both her arms. Her wrists were brought together behind her and held with one hand. She knew from the strength in that hand that it was Tank's. Eddie brought the chair over from the wall and Tank pushed her into it.
Danny towered over her.
"Are you sure you won't change your mind and cooperate, ma'am?" Helen didn't answer. Danny sighed. "Well, then, we'll just have to do it in the little kid way."
With thumb and forefinger he pinched her nostril shut, forcing her to open her mouth to breathe. He bent her head back as far as it would go. His strength was amazing for one of his slender build.
Some of the whiskey coughed out over her face and down her chin, but most of it found its way into her. It burned all the way down, and sent her into fresh coughing fits. Danny waited patiently for the coughing to subside before he began pouring the whiskey into her again. Soon everything began to blur and move away like a movie zoom shot in reverse. She fought for a moment, and then the darkness crept in from all four sides of her vision. And she felt herself wrapped in a velvet mist, and the warmth spread through her, taking away the pain, and with it the conscious of all that had happened.
CHAPTER TWO
She was dimly aware of being led and carried down the flight of stairs to the living room and then down the stairs in front. The car was parked there and, as the other two boys held her, Eddie started it. Helen looked very hard at the car, forcing her fogged mind to work.
The ride back to town was punctuated by periods of unconsciousness, but in the moments of awareness Helen concentrated, prodding her unwilling brain to hold onto what it had taken in.
Danny sat on her left, staring at the darkened window. Tank sat on the other side of her, his hand rubbing the inside of her thigh under her skirt. She felt that this should bother her, even now, but somehow it seemed unimportant. And her mind was on something else.
They reached town and slowed to the speed limit. They seemed to make a lot of turns.
"Let me out here," Danny said finally, and the car stopped, Danny walked on ahead. Helen could se him in the headlights. He seemed to be looking into one of the buildings. He waved the car forward and Eddie moved up even with him.
The door next to Helen opened and Danny and Tank muscled her out onto the sidewalk. One of them opened the door of the building, using a key from Helen's bag, and she realized through her stupor that it was her apartment house.
Her apartment was the third one on the left Danny opened it and they dragged her inside. Far enough inside to clear the door, Tank dropped her in a heap on the floor.
"For Christ's sake, stupid," Danny whispered. "You want to wake up the whole house?"
"Ah, that ain't gonna wake anybody up."
"After all the planning, you take a stupid chance like that. Besides, we don't want her bruised up any more than necessary." He threw her purse beside her, then dropped her key ring next to it. "Come on, let's get out of here."
As soon as the door had closed behind them, Helen began to crawl, pulling herself forward on her elbows. Her desk was the opposite end of the room, and it seemed to take forever to reach it. She couldn't lift herself to the chair, but managed to drag herself halfway up the front of the desk.
She ran her hand over the top of the desk until she found the note pad she kept there. She pulled it forward until it slid off and fell to the floor next to her. It had a metal base, and a magnetic pen was stuck to the side of it. Helen wrote the three letters and three numbers on the pad very carefully. She wrote it three times to make sure she had really written it and not just imagined she had.
And when she was quite sure, then and only then did she allow herself to pass out.
She woke to pain, the carpeted floor beneath her feeling as hard as a brick, her muscles stiff, her entire body swollen and lumpy. Twice she woke and tried to move, and passed out again. The third time the sun was hitting her full in the face. It was unpleasant, but it revived her.
Helen dragged herself to her feet, every move, every instant a real agony. Her crotch and belly felt as though they were on fire.
There was a full length mirror in her bedroom, and she looked at herself in it. Her clothes were twisted and wrinkled, her hose full of runs and holes. She sat down on the edge of the bed and peeled the stocking off and then stood and undressed. When she was nude, she looked at herself in the mirror again. There were a lot of bruises on her body, but none that would show when she was dressed. There were large dark circles under her eyes. The feeling of puffiness in her body had been imaginary. Actually, except for the circles and the bruises on her breasts and belly and thighs, she looked no different from the last time she had stood in front of this mirror.
She walked, stiffly, into the bathroom and took some pain killers from the medicine cabinet. She saw her douche kit there. Well, it was much too late for that. If she was ... She wouldn't think of that. She'd think of that later, if it proved necessary.
She sat on the edge of the tub and turned on the hot water tap. As the water splashed and steamed she lowered her head to her hand and felt the hot tears run down her face and down her arm, and then the sobs came, great, racking things that shook her whole body painfully. It seemed to her that someone she had known all her life was dead. The old Helen Walsh was dead. The shy, strachy, reserved girl. The school teacher. The twenty-five year old virgin. All dead. Perhaps she really wasn't worth mourning, but she was the only Helen Walsh who had ever existed, and now she would have to get acquainted with the new one who had taken her place on that hill top cabin last night.
She ran in the cold water sparingly, then lowered herself into the tub, into the painfully hot water.
The soak did her good. She lay in the water for a long while, running in fresh hot water when the tub cooled. When she finally emerged, the pain was still there, but now it was bearable.
She threw on a robe and sat on the couch in the living room. The order of business, she thought, was to find those three boys and make them pay for what they had done. The police couldn't do her any good. They had put her into an awkward position where the law was concerned. It didn't matter to her what happened to her own reputation. The only thing that mattered was getting them. But the way they had set her up, it was doubtful that she could obtain a conviction, and even if she did. the courts would probably be lenient in the case of three youthful offenders, particularly when the issue was in doubt. So she had to find them. That was the rub. Finding them. What clues did she have? Someone named Danny, and someone called Tank and someone named Eddie. A cabin in the woods, and a car ... A car.
She looked reflexively at the floor in front of the desk. The pad lay there, wrinkled from being rolled over by her body. Helen picked it up and smoothed it out and read what she had written. "DAN OOO." She looked at it a moment, considering the wisdom of what she was going to do next. Then she picked up the telephone on her desk and dialed.
"Police Department," a gruff voice said. "Sergeant Murchison."
"I'd like to speak to Officer Dailey," Helen said, and she was surprised at her voice. It was smooth and cool.
"Just a moment, ma'am. I'll see if he's here today." There was a pause, then a click. "Traffic, Dailey."
"Hello, Tom."
"Helen! Is that you? Well, I'll be darned. I thought I'd seen the last of you. Where are you, honey?"
"Oh, I'm at home. How's the crook catching business?"
"Booming. Say, when are we going to get together again?"
"Call me, Tom. That's all you have to do."
"The last three times I called, you gave me the brush."
"No, I didn't. I was really busy. I was sorry when you didn't call again."
"Well what can I do for you today, Beautiful?"
"Well, it's in the nature of a special favor, Tom. I suppose I really should go through the Department of Motor Vehicles, but I'm in a hurry. Last night I was driving around and I had a flat. Well, you know how helpless I am about things like that."
"Like I keep telling you, you need a man around to take care of those things."
"Well, maybe you're right. Anyway this nice young fellow stopped and fixed it for me. I tried to give him some money, but he wouldn't take it. So I copied down his license number and I wondered if you could run a check on it."
"Shoot."
Helen read him the number.
"Hell, I don't have to run a check on that one. That's Danny Carter's car. His old man pulled strings to get him the number he wanted."
"Danny Carter?"
"Sure. You know, his old man's the original got-bucks up in Medford. One of the richest men in the state, they say. Worth at least fifty million dollars. Some say it's closer to a hundred million. They live in that big place on the State highway, just this side of Medford. The kid's got more money and more freedom than are good for him. But he seems to be a good kid. At least everybody-likes him. His mother died about a year and a half ago. Straight a student, member of all the right clubs, student body president, the usual crap. Excuse me. The usual stuff."
"I see. Well, thank you, Tom. I appreciate it. Now call me. I'll be waiting to hear from you."
"Well, how about tonight? I know tomorrow's Monday, but we could have dinner and go to an early show."
"Well, actually, Tom, I have lessons to correct tonight. Now that's the truth. I'm not just giving you the brush, as you put it."
"Okay, honey, I believe you. I'll give you a ring this week sometime."
"I'll be waiting."
She returned to the couch and thought. The first thing that occurred to her was that it was Sunday, and she had slept through a day. Then she realized that the car belonged to Danny. That was a stroke of luck. She had assumed that it was Eddie's, since he had done the driving.
Very well. She knew who he was and where he lived. She could do without the others if she had to. Not that she didn't want them. She hungered and thirsted for them. But if she had to choose just one of them, it would be Danny, with his phony, mocking politeness, his imagine lovemaking approach to what had been a simple case of rape. Compared to him, Tank with his unadulterated brutality was infinitely preferable.
She walked into her bedroom and opened a drawer in a table next to her bed. The revolver was small and blue and quite deadly. She knew little about it, but Tom had given it to her and taught her how to use it fairly well, and how to care for it. It was clean and well oiled. She swung out the cylinder and checked it to make sure it was loaded, as Tom had taught her.
Danny, she thought. I can do without the others if I have to. But not you. I want you.
The estate wasn't hard to find. There wasn't another dwelling for miles around. It stood beside the highway, surrounded by a wall at least ten feet high. The gate was huge and ornate, and bore a bronze plaque with the name "Carter" engraved on it in Gothic majesty.
There was a gatekeeper, but he presented no problem. When Helen told him that she wanted to see Danny Carter, and that she was a teacher, he apparently drew the conclusion, as she had intended, that she was a teacher of Danny's.
The house was about a mile from the gate. It was three stories tall, made of brick, with huge windows and columns in front of the door. It was surrounded by tall trees.
The drive curved in front of the house and circled back on itself. Helen parked before the door and looked at herself in the rear view mirror. She had worn a simple black dress, and pulled her auburn hair back in a bun. Careful makeup had concealed the circles under her eyes. She looked trim and crisp.
The doorbell couldn't be heard from the outside, but after a while it brought a butler in tails to inquire as to her business.
"I'm here to see Danny Carter. I'm a teacher."
The butler showed her through a foyer that was as huge as an Anglican church. He took her to a library, rich and burnished looking. It was lined with books, all fine, leather bound volumes, but all with the look of books that had been read. There was a massive desk at the opposite end of the room, facing the door.
Helen took a chair in front of it.
Soon the door opened and a middle aged man in a gray suit entered. He walked straight to the desk and seated himself.
"How do you do Miss, uh..."
"Walsh. Helen Walsh."
"Miss Walsh. I don't believe I've heard my son mention you."
"I'm not one of your son's teachers, Mr. Carter. I teach third grade at Conquistador Grammar School. When I told your butler I was a teacher, he must have drawn the wrong conclusion, and I guess it was easier to let it go at that."
"I see. Well, may I inquire as to your business with my son, Miss Walsh?"
"Well, actually, I wanted to speak to him in person."
"Of course, but he's out right now, playing golf, I believe. Perhaps I could..."
"Well, it wasn't really all that urgent. Actually, I feel a bit embarrassed to be taking up your time with it, Mr. Carter."
"Nonsense. I always have time to spend with an attractive young lady. It's a myth, Miss Walsh, that men with a great deal of money are busy. Actually, we have people to do most things for us."
"Well. Mr. Carter, I was out driving last night, or actually Friday night, and I had a flat, and your son helped me with it. He wouldn't accept any reward, and wouldn't even tell me who he was. So I took down his license number and had a friend of mine on the police force trace it for me. I had intended to pay him for his services, but when I discovered that he was your son that idea seemed silly. But I'd still like to thank him for what he did. In person."
I'm impressed, Miss Walsh. Such thoughtfulness and good manners are rare these days. Did you really drive all the way here from Walkerville just to thank my son?"
"It seemed the decent thing to do."
"Yes, indeed, very impressive. Tell me, are you under contract at the school where you teach?"
"Well, just for the rest of this year."
"I see. Well, even that can be taken care of. I'm not without influence on your school board."
"I don't think I understand, Mr. Carter."
"Of course. Very rude of me to think out loud, that way. The point is, Miss Walsh, that I am not at all surprised at what my son did for you the other night. It's the way he was brought up. I'd be surprised if he'd behaved any other way. But your thoughtfulness in coming all the way out here to thank him when a phone call or a note would have sufficed impresses me very much. Also, you are very personable looking, and you have an air of efficiency about you. I have a problem, Miss Walsh, and I wonder if you would mind helping me with it."
"Well, I don't..."
"You see, I have another son, Jimmy. He's only eight years old, and since his mother's death eighteen months ago, he's been ... withdrawn. His marks in school used to be excellent, just as his older brother's are, but lately he's been falling behind. I've thought of hiring a private tutor for him, but haven't got around to interviewing any of them. And I don't believe in leaving this sort of thing up to servants. If you'd be interested in taking on the task, I'd be glad to pay, say twenty-five percent more than you are making at your present job. In addition, I'll give you room and board here, and you can garage your car with mine. My chauffeur will care for it and keep it fueled from my own pump. I'll guarantee you employment for the next six month, and at the end of that time, I'll do my best to get you back on at the school where you teach now. If you want to leave us at that time, that is. Or if the problem with Jimmy is solved. If you do solve the problem, I'll pay you a bonus of five thousand dollars at the termination of your employment."
"That's very generous, Mr. Carter. Actually, I..." Helen paused. An idea was beginning to form in her mind. "Actually," she said, "I don't see how I can afford to turn down such an offer."
"Fine. Then it's settled. You can start at once."
"Oh, I couldn't leave my school without giving some notice..."
"Don't worry about that. I'll see that your record isn't damaged in any way. And I'll smooth over any ruffled feathers that may be caused by your sudden departure. I don't want to lose a single day in attacking Jimmy's problem. I've let it go far too long already." He pressed a button on his desk and waited. When a gruff voice answered, Carter said, "Martin, please bring the limousine around to the front. Miss Walsh is coming to stay with us, and I want you to take her to her home so she can make the necessary arrangements to move today. Help her with her clothes, and any other problems that may arise."
Helen laughed despite herself.
"You are a man of action," she said. "I can see how you managed to make a fortune at such a young age."
Carter blushed and started to say something. Before he could, he looked beyond Helen.
"Well, come in, son. An acquaintance of yours is here."
Helen was concealed from the doorway by the back of the chair in which she sat. Now she leaned forward and looked straight at Danny Carter. Danny returned her glance without a flicker.
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but if we've met, I..."
"Don't you remember, Danny? Friday night?"
"Friday..."
"The flat tire."
"Oh. Yes, of course. The flat tire."
"Miss Walsh drove here all the way from Walkerville just to thank you for helping her. And now I've managed to convince her that she should stay here with us as Jimmy's tutor. You see, she's a grade school teacher."
"Yes, sir, I know."
"Oh?" Helen broke in. "How do you know, Danny?"
"Don't you remember, ma'am? You mentioned it Friday night while I was changing your tire."
"It must have slipped my mind."
"I'm fine at teaching the three R's,'" you said, " 'but when it comes to changing tires, I'm a total toss.'"
"Oh, of course."
"I hope you've had the puncture fixed as I recommended, ma'am. It's dangerous running around without a spare."
"Oh, I'm much more careful since Friday night."
"That's fine, ma'am. Dad, I just came in to tell you that I won't be here for dinner tonight. A couple of the guys and I are going to an early show, and I'll grab a bite to eat in town."
"All right, son. Try not to stay out too late. School tomorrow, you know."
"Don't I know it. I wouldn't mind it so much if I had a teacher as attractive as Jimmy's."
As Danny was leaving a man came in. He was wearing a black chauffeur's livery, and held the hat in his hand. He stood a good foot taller than Helen's five feet, four inches, and he walked with the grace of a professional dancer.
"Come in Martin," Carter said. "This is Miss Walsh."
That evening Helen arranged the few belongings she had brought in her new room, then went down to dinner when the butler appeared at her door to summon her.
The meal was a simple affair, though it was served at a huge table. Carter introduced her to Jimmy, a shy boy who shook her hand politely and ate in silence. After dinner, Carter invited Helen to the library for coffee.
"While you're here," he said, "you'll be considered an employee, not a servant. I want that understood. You'll dine with us, and your room is separate from the servants quarters, as you may have observed. I want to instill in Jimmy the idea that you are his friend, not just someone who has been hired to teach him."
Afterwards she retired to her room. She had a private bathroom, where she bathed and put on her nightgown. Her bed had been turned down by the maid, and as she prepared to get into it there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said, assuming it was the maid. The door opened and Danny walked in. They looked at each other for a long moment. There was a slight smile on Danny's face. "What are you doing here," Helen asked.
"Well now, as a matt-er-of-fact that's just what I came up here to ask you."
"I have a right here. Your father hired me..."
"Can it baby. I know what you have in mind. But it won't work."
"Really?"
"You think by working here, and living here, you'll be in a better position to get back at me. But you're barking up the wrong tree."
"I'll take that chance."
"You're asking for trouble, Helen Walsh. And I'm just the fellow who can give it to you."
"What, a nice young fellow like you? A boy who helps ladies with flat tires?"
"That's pretty good, isn't it? Everybody thinks I'm such a nice boy. That will make it even harder for you, if you expect anyone to believe I did something wrong. Of course everyone knows I like girls, but they also know I don't have much trouble coming by them."
Helen looked at him wonderingly.
"Don't you feel any remorse," she asked. "None at all, for what you did to me the other night?"
"Oh, let's not get maudlin, honey. What I did to you didn't bother you so much. The only thing that really bothered you was discovering just how little it meant to you."
"How dare you say that!" Helen fought to keep her voice from rising. "I was a virgin before you it
"Virginity's strictly physical, baby. We're-talking about your attitude. You enjoyed what I did to you Friday night. As much as I did. Maybe more."
"Get out of here!"
"Truth hurts, eh? Well, maybe you need a little more of it. You know, you weren't the first one we've picked on. Actually you were the fifth. Now none of the others was a virgin. And three of them were, shall we say, a bit round in the heels. They weren't nearly so respectable as you. But you know something, baby? The most round heeled one of the lot fought harder than you did."
"That's a lie!"
"Just pure fact, ma'am. You were really nice about the whole thing. Terribly sporting. I had expected you to give us much more trouble. Tank was really disappointed. He expected an opportunity to beat up on you a little bit. He enjoys that sort of thing."
"Will you get out?"
"You came here to get me in dutch, right? Well, I'm going to make it easy for you." He turned to the door and locked it. "All you have to do is scream," he said. "The servants will hear you and come running. They'll break down the door and see that I attacked you and you can have me arrested. My nice boy reputation will be ruined, I'll go to jail and you'll be the heroine of the piece." He began walking toward Helen. She backed away.
"What are you going to do? Get out, please."
"Nothing to it baby. Just scream." He stepped toward her again, and she felt the backs of her legs touch the edge of the bed. Danny reached forward and pushed her gently, so that she sat down on the bed. He came down on top of her, not swiftly or brutally, but with the air of a man in such complete control of the situation that he can afford to take his time.
Helen fought with all the strength in her body, kicking and flailing, trying to find his groin with a knee, but he had a strength that belied his slender frame. He pinned her hands together in one grip, then casually tore her nightgown down the front.
"Very pretty," he said. "Even with the bruises, very pretty indeed." He loosed his belt and opened his trousers all the way. They slid down his legs. He pushed his shorts down after them and Helen saw his manhood, stiffly erect. "All for you baby," he said. "Just for you."
"You bastard," Helen hissed. "Get away from me."
"All you have to do is make some noise." He lowered himself, plastering his hard young body against her, and Helen felt her heart speed with excitement. She hated him for making her feel this way when she should feel only disgust. She redoubled her efforts to escape him, but his strength was phenomenal.
With his free hand, Danny began to stroke her, his fingertips moving over her belly, and breasts, and then to her hip. He placed his palm fully on her hip, then, as she came up in an attempt to kick him, slid it around to her buttocks, closing warmly over the soft, jellied flesh. Helen could feel her legs growing heavy, leaded with fatigue as her muscles tired and refused to obey her. And there was something else.
Her breath was growing shallow and ragged. She could feel the heat of desire in her loins. It was the same feeling she had had the previous night, in the cabin.
"Oh, you bastard," she wept. "Leave me alone. Please leave me alone." He laughed.
"Look, ma'am, no hands." He released his grip on her wrists and brought the freed hand over her breast. The other hand slid around from her buttocks to her vagina. He began to stroke her there with his thumb, pushing ever so little into the lips. Helen felt her thighs grow heavy with pleasure. She raised her hands to push him away, but she felt the fine, young smoothness of his skin, the bristle of hair on his arms, rendered even more by the ripple of his biceps.
He lowered his face to hers and kissed her, his tongue pushing past her teeth. Helen's arms tightened, pulling him closer, harder to her. Her thighs slid heavily apart, and she felt his manhood pressing tautly against her crotch. He broke off the kiss and looked down into her eyes. His own eyes were taunting.
"You seem to be inviting me in, baby."
"Oh, please. Now. I can't stand it." Helen's head rolled from side to side as she felt herself overwhelmed with pleasure and need.
But he didn't take her yet. He went on kissing her all over her face, then her neck and shoulder. He lowered his mouth to her breast, his tongue tasting her nipple. Helen moaned, unable to hold it any longer. Her hands slid down the length of his body to his buttocks, then around to the front. She caught his organ in them and pulled him into place.
"That's right, baby," Danny grunted. "That's right. You do it for me. Show me how badly you need it."
She inserted his penis in her, pushing it between the lips. Then they came together, their bodies meeting with a fleshy slap.
It was better, more intense, than the night before. The pain was still there, but not so intense, and the shock was less than it had been then. And she herself had gained some skill in the previous encounter. She could feel her body matching the rhythm of his, moving with him like a dance team. She felt her thighs raised around his waist, her calves intertwined with his legs. Her arms were locked around his neck, holding him tight against her, their cheeks touching. She could smell the cleanness of his hair and feel his hands sliding over her body, up to her rib cage to touch her breasts, then down to her waist.
Finally, he broke away, his seed spent. Helen lay on her back, exhausted and disgusted with herself.
"I guess you're just a naturally good screw, teach." Danny said. "Even if you don't want to be."
"You son of a bitch," Helen said without passion. He laughed and rose from the bed. He started to dress.
"You'd better get used to this. We're going to have a lot of these little sessions if you insist on staying in this house."
"Tomorrow night IT! lock my door."
"Go ahead. I know where the extra keys are kept."
"Then I'll put a bolt on the door."
"Do you really think that will keep me out?"
"Danny, leave me alone. Please."
"Oh, cut the crap. You enjoy it. You enjoy it more than anyone I've ever known. You're a whore. A natural born whore."
Helen felt tears on her cheeks.
"That's not true."
"Sure it's true. You're one of those women who like it too much for their own good. The fact that you took twenty-five years to find that out doesn't change a thing."
"God, I hate you. I never knew it was possible to hate the way I hate you."
"You'll have me in tears in a moment."
"Not in a moment. But I'll have you in tears, all right. You and your two friends. When I find your soft spot, mister, I'm not just going to hit it, I'm going to grind it to hamburger."
"Well then I have nothing to lose, have I? As long as there's a freeby available, I may as well take advantage of it."
"Enjoy yourself. I'll get you. I'll find a way."
"Still planning on staying? With moxie like that, you just may make it."
The total lack of concern in his voice sent a chill through Helen.
CHAPTER THREE
Helen started her new job the next Monday morning. She was called down to breakfast by one of the servants. Carter wasn't there, apparently having already left the house. Danny and Jimmy were already seated, on a kind of pen veranda, when she arrived. They were waiting for her.
"Good morning, Miss Walsh," Danny said. "I trust you slept well last night."
"Quite well, thank you. Considering the strange surroundings." A maid set a glass of orange juice before her. She began to drink it. "And how are you this morning, Jimmy?"
The boy looked at her shyly. "Fine, I guess, ma'am."
"Are you all ready to start on your lessons after breakfast."
"I guess so."
The empty orange juice glass disappeared and a bowl of hot cereal took its place. Danny looked at his watch.
"I have to be going, or m be late for school."
"You haven't eaten much breakfast," Helen said.
"Orange juice is all I ever take in the morning, ma'am." He rose from the table and disappeared through the door into the house.
"Well, Jimmy," Helen said. "I hope you and I are going to be good friends during my stay here."
"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said dubiously.
"What's your favorite subject in school?"
"Reading, ma'am."
"Good. That was always my favorite, too. What reading textbook did you use in school?"
Jimmy screwed up his face in an effort to remember. "I think it was called 'Adventures in Reading', ma'am."
"Oh, I know that one. It's not a very good book, is it?" He looked startled.
"Well, gee, I never liked it, but I thought..."
"You thought that you weren't supposed to like a school book, is that it."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, your teacher had to use that book to teach you. The school told her to. But since we don't have any school to answer to, Jimmy, we can use any book we want." Helen reached into her bag, sitting next to her chair. "This has always been a favorite of mine. I thought we might start on it right after breakfast." She handed the volume to him. Jimmy took it reluctantly. When he looked at the cover, his eyes lit up.
"Wow! "The Adventures of Robin Hood'! Do we have to wait till breakfast's over, ma'am?"
That night at dinner, Jimmy monopolized the conversation, regaling his father with a recounting of the adventures of the Earl of Huntingdon, the Maid Marian, Little John and the Merry Men. Carter listened through it all with a smile on his lips. When the meal was finished and Jimmy had gone off to read some more, and Danny had retired to his own room to study, Carter asked Helen to join him in the library. He poured them both drinks.
"I need hardly tell you how pleased I am," he said. "I haven't seen Jimmy this wrapped up in something since his mother died. I don't know how you did it."
"It wasn't difficult. I just gave him something to study that was interesting. His school teacher was working under a disadvantage, remember. She had curriculum to follow, and a whole classroom full of children to take care of. I haven't really accomplished much yet, Mr. Carter. Jimmy-likes to read. Now I have to convert that into a broader interest, encompassing all his studies."
"Just to see him this excited is enough for me, Miss Walsh. I can't imagine how I'll ever repay you for it."
"Well, there is one thing you could do for me. Mr. Cater."
"You have only to name it."
"You said the other night that you want Jimmy to think of me as a friend, rather than a governess."
"That's right."
"Good. In line with that intention I told him today to call me Helen. I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same. Of course, if you don't think it would be."
"Nonsense. I think it's an excellent idea. Helen. The beautiful. It's a name that suits you." He blushed at his own boldness.
"Why thank you, Mr. Carter. Now if you'll excuse me, I really should go to my room and prepare some lessons for tomorrow. Today was the sugar. I'm afraid tomorrow is going to be the pill."
Helen congratulated herself as she climbed the stairs to her room. Jimmy liked her and Carter was satisfied with her work. She had a better foothold in here than she had the night before. So far, so good.
She closed the door of her room and locked it. She began to undress. She was down to her slip when the voice startled her.
"Congratulations, Teach." Helen spun toward the sound, raising her hands before her reflexively. Danny sat in a wing chair in the corner. He was between the dresser and the wall, and Helen hadn't seen him until he spoke. "Congratulations," he said again. "The whole family seems to approve of you."
Helen regained control of herself.
"Really? Even you?"
"Hell, baby, I've approved of you since last Friday night. But of course I think that a talented teacher like you should be back in her classroom where she can do the most good for the greatest number of students." He rose from his chair and came toward her. "But somehow I don't seem able convince you that you just don't belong in this house."
"You stay away from me." Helen started for the door. Danny crossed the space between them in one stride. His hands grasped her roughly and he lifted her clear of the floor, holding her struggling body against his own.
"Stay away? Now, you know better than that. I told you last night how it was going to be, didn't I? Well, I wasn't kidding, Teach. That's really the way it's going to be with us. For as long as you insist on staying where you aren't wanted. Now, do you want to have it the same way as last night?"
Helen stopped struggling.
"No. What's the use of that? I won't fight you."
"Now, that's a sensible girl." He put her down. Helen began to undress again. To her surprise, Danny was naked too, having undressed behind her. He lay beside her on the bed and his hands began to move over her body. Her breath began to quicken. She was growing more accustomed to sex now. Helen realized. The pain was gone, the pleasure grew more intense with each experience. As Danny's lovemaking progressed, she wondered if he been right about her, if her long standing maidenhood had been something she had imposed on herself because deep in her she had known all along that she was a tramp at heart, and that once the dike burst, she would be a pushover. Nonsense, she told herself. You are putting up with this because you have no choice. It's this or leave the house, and you mustn't do that until you've got back at them, all three of them, for that night.
And then Danny's lovemaking became more insistent, and she found that it was more difficult to think of anything beyond the moment, the immediate experience. Her legs spread without volition, and her arms went around his neck, and then he was thrusting into her belly, and she heard herself cry, "Oh, Danny. Oh, Darling. ... ... "
It was a week later that the plan occurred to Helen. They had just finished dinner, and Jimmy had gone off to read a new book Helen had given him, when Carter asked her to step into the library with him for a moment.
"Is something the matter, Mr. Carter?" she asked, once they were seated.
"In a way, yes, Helen. A week ago you asked me to call you by your first name so that we would seem like friends to Jimmy rather than superior and subordinate."
"Yes, sir. Of course, If you think it's not proper.. "
"Oh, no, it's not that at all. Quite the contrary, I think it's an excellent idea. Only think it will do more harm than good if we do it half way."
"I don't think I understand, Mr. Carter."
"If I call you Helen and you address me as Mr. Carter all the time, even a child of Jimmy's age can't escape the conclusion that I am free to address you in a familiar manner, while you must be more formal with me. The impression thus produced is worse than if we were both on a last name basis."
"Oh, I see what you mean."
"My first name is Richard. I think your relationship with Jimmy would be aided if you addressed me that way."
"Why, very well, Richard. If you prefer." Helen suddenly noticed that Carter was looking at her in an odd way. At first she couldn't pin down what was strage about it. Then it occurred to her that he had difficulty looking her in the eyes. His gaze kept slipping downward, to her breasts and her legs. When he realized that she had noticed, Carter suddenly blushed furiously and looked away, flustered.
"Well, now, I have some work to do, Helen. If you will excuse me . ... "
"Of course, Richard." Helen rose and left the room, more than a bit flustered herself. On the way to her room, Helen began to think about the situation more calmly. At first, any romantic interest Carter might have felt for her seemed to complicate the situation, but as she thought it over, it occurred to her that this might be just the thing to give her the in she had sought. Her position as tutor to Jimmy could be a temporary one at best. Once Carter was satisfied that the boy's progress was sufficient, her usefulness in that capacity would be finished. She might need more time than that would give her to plan and execute her revenge on Danny and the others, and the sure way to get it would be to make herself indispensable to Carter in another way.
As she thought about the plan it seemed to have more and more to recommend it. She liked Carter. She found his company pleasant. He was certainly not an unattractive man. And she had nothing to lose in such a relationship. Danny and his friends had seen to that. And it should be easy enough to maneuver Carter into the right position, if the hungry look she had seen on his face just now was any sign. He had been a widower for more than a year and a half. In all that time, she guessed, he had kept along from women, no doubt feeling that he owed a decent waiting period to his wife's memory. Now his protracted celibacy had left him vulnerable to an attractive woman.
She began implementing the plan the next evening. When she went in to talk to Carter about Jimmy's progress before dinner, she was careful to sit where Carter would have a good view of her. When she lowered herself into her chair, she allowed her skirt to glide up higher than necessary. She did it in an innocent appearing way, as though unaware of it, then, when she was sure Carter had had a good look, she casually pulled her skirt down, as though unconscious of the action.
From that point on Helen worked at making Carter uncomfortably aware of her whenever they were together. When he spoke to her, she looked up into his eyes as though enraptured of his every word. When it was necessary to show him something from Jimmy's school work, she would stand as close to him as possible, and then, turning away, would allow her breasts to brush his arm. She could see the effect of her campaign. Before long Carter began to grow fidgety in her presence. He would avoid being alone with her for long periods of time and then arrange to see her on some contrived pretext. Helen, who had always found her sexual attractiveness an annoyance, now found it intriguing to see just how desperate she could make Carter. Through it all she was careful not to betray, by any word or deed, that she was aware of Carter's growing agitation, or that she found him in the least attractive. She not only wanted him to desire her, she wanted him to feel that the situation was hopeless. Until time to make her move.
The climax came when she had been living in the Carter home for a month. She had learned that Carter had a habit of working in his library nights until the wee hours of the morning. Helen waited for a Friday night, when she knew Danny would be out late. She put on a negligee, the only one she had ever owned. It was white, and rather easy to see through. Her hair hung around her shoulders, creating an auburn halo that softened her face.
The stairs were dark, and she felt her way down them, one step at a time, her toe reaching carefully until she felt the solidness of the next stair. She was the light under the door of the library, but it was faint. She opened the door and walked in.
Carter sat at the desk, books and papers before him in disarray. He was without coat or tie, and Helen realized with a start that it was the first time she had ever seen him without them. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his collar open. He looked up at her, started, and Helen pretended startlement too.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mist-Richard. I didn't realize you were up. Please forgive me." She started to back out of the room. Carter came to his feet quickly.
"What, that's quite all right," he said. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Oh, no, please. I didn't mean to barge in on you."
"Not at all, not at all. As a matt-er-of-fact, I was just about to have a nightcap and go to bed."
"Well, actually I just wanted to use the dictionary. I was preparing Jimmy's lessons for tomorrow. But it can wait."
"Nonsense. Come right in. Will you join me?" He was at the bar now, mixing a drink.
"Well, all right. I guess a little wine might help me sleep."
"You shouldn't work so late, Helen. You'll wear yourself out."
"I might say the same to you, Richard. Except that you're my boss, and I guess I shouldn't."
"Oh, nuts, I'm used to it. I've been doing it since I was thirteen years old. But it's different for a beautiful young girl. You know, it's just occurred to me that you haven't been off the grounds since you came to work here. Don't you have boy friends?"
"No, I haven't."
"Well, it can't be for lack of opportunity. There be dozens of young men just aching to take you out."
"Young men have never interested me, Richard. They all seem so-" she shrugged. "-unfinished, I guess you'd say. Anyway, they bore me. They always have." She had walked over to the bar and stood close beside him now, ready to take the glass of wine from his hand. "I've always found men more interesting when they were a little older." She made her voice breathy, a trifle unsteady. Carter looked down at her, starting intently into her eyes. Helen suddenly acutely aware of the filminess of the negligee.
Carter placed the wine glass on the bar and took Helen in his arms, drawing her close.
"Richard," she breathed, "no, we shouldn't, darling, please ... "But she pressed her body against his, feeling the sharpness of his shirt buttons through the thinness of her own garment. Carter's arms were strong about her, and when he kissed her, she tasted salt and tobacco and good whiskey. It wasn't unpleasant sensation.
"Helen," his own voice was breathy, heavy with desire. "Oh, my God, it's been so long. I'd almost forgotten how marvelous it feels to have a woman in my arms." He bent his head forward and kissed her at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Helen felt a quiver run through her body. Carter's hands were roving over her now, more insistent than she had imagined they would be. He opened her negligee, and then his hands were running over the warmth of her bare skin. Helen allowed herself to collapse against him. Carter picked her up in his arms and carried her to the large leather couch against the far wall. He set her down, peeled the negligee back from her shoulders so that she lay on it like a filmy carpet. He knelt beside her, kissing her body, his hands moving over the length of it from her breasts to her thighs. As one hand cupped her pubic area, she felt the familiar heat begin to stoke in her loins. Her breathing was coming in patches now, shallow and quick and ragged. She heard the commotion of clothes, the rustling of cloth, the mild sound of buttons being undone, the sudden rasp of a zipper. The sounds excited her more. She could feel the tingling of her nipples as they came alive.
Carter pulled the snaps loose on his shorts and pushed them away. He came to his feet and Helen saw him, towering over her, his manhood stiff and welcoming him into her body.
He came down her, his hands closing on her tiny waist, positioning her. She moved with them, making her pelvis a couch for him. As he entered her, his organ parting her flesh, opening her, Helen cried out, unable to contain herself. She felt his chest, thick matted with hair, against her breasts, heard his rumbling close to her ear as he moved in her in a quick, intense rhythm, thrusting and withdrawing, and she heard her own voice, dimly, as she cried out with a pleasure to be borne.
It had been a long time since Richard Carter had a woman, and she realized now how hard his restraint must have been. He was not a cold man, or one to whom sex was only a casual drive. He pushed his way into her belly three times, seeming to exhaust himself each time. But each time he would come back to her in a few minutes, like a kid locked up in a candy store, as though he simply couldn't get enough of her.
Finally, he knelt by her again and buried his face in her breasts.
"Oh, Helen," he cried. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for I didn't want this to happen."
Helen ran her fingers through his hair.
"I did." she said quietly. Carter drew away a bit and looked at her.
"What? I don't ... "
"Dick, darling, didn't you know? I thought you did. I thought you were just holding out fromgentlemanliness. Not to take advantage of the fact that I had this horrible crush on you. And because you knew that I wasn't as strong as you. That it would be too easy to take me. I thought surely you must know, that it stuck out all over me. I've wanted you do do this since the first time we met, right here in this library, with you sitting behind that desk." She gestured toward his broad, maple desk, the lamp throwing huge shadows on the wall.
"Helen, I I never dreamed. I mean you're so young, so beautiful. It never occurred to me that you could be interested in me."
Helen ran her hand over his cheek.
"You silly man. Don't you even know how attractive you are? Aren't you even-aware of it? You must drive women crazy." She could see from Carter's expression that he could scarcely contain the gladness her words were exciting in him. She felt a sense of power, a new feeling for her. She chose her next words carefully.
"But we'll have to be so careful, Richard my darling. So very careful. The servants and your sons mustn't find out about it Especially your sons. What there is between you and them mustn't be hurt by what you and I feel for each other. I couldn't stand that."
"Of course, dear. We must be very careful." Helen could see that, as she had suspected, the idea that tonight's incident could develop into a steady thing hadn't occurred to Carter. Her casual acceptance of it seemed to excite him. Helen placed her arms about his neck.
"Now once more, darling, and then I'll have to go up to my room and close the door and spend the time until morning away from you. I'll hate it, but that's the way it will have to be."
Later, as he dressed, and Helen was walking toward the door, Carter called her name. She turned back to him, her eyes warm and soft.
"Helen, didn't you tell me that you came here to look up some words for tomorrow's lesson."
"Yes, darling."
"Tomorrow's Saturday. That just occurred to me."
Helen blushed and looked at the floor.
"Did you plan this what happened tonight?" Carter asked, and his voice was filled with wonder. Just before Helen ran from the room, she saw his face, just a glimpse, just enough to know that her victory was complete and that he was hopelessly smitten with her.
Helen had said that they must be careful, and careful they were. They met in the wee hours, when everyone else was in bed and asleep, or when the boys were out of the house, and the servants occupied elsewhere.
Carter seemed insatiable, as though the months he'd been without the comforts of a woman's body had created a dammed-up reservoir of desire that her availability had set free.
In the presence of others he still spoke to her with formality and discretion, but the moment he got her alone, the moment she had made herself naked for him, he was like a bull penetrating her body, using it for his own enjoyment as though die existed not as a person but only as a tool for his pleasure.
CHAPTER FOUR
They were married at an all night chapel in Las Vegas, then spent the next two days at the newest and largest of the strip hotels. She hadn't had time to pack much, and Carter hadn't gone home to pack at all, so they were both in need of clothes.
It was a new experience for Helen to walk into a plush clothing shop and buy whatever she liked, without regard to cost. Carter had to nudge her into it at first, instructing the clerk to wrap up something that Helen obviously liked, but that seemed extravagant to her. Helen still wasn't used to the idea that she was rich now, and that nothing was an extravagance any more. But she could get used to the feeling all right, she thought.
The people at the hotel bowed and scraped so much it was actually embarrassing, which surprised Helen, until Carter informed her that he owned a third of the place.
After a couple of days, Carter suggested they leave Vegas and go on to someplace more private. Helen agreed, anxious to please him, though she had been enjoying the plushiness of the hotel, and the service they were afforded there.
They took a plane back to Medford, and had Carter's car brought around. As Carter drove, Helen sat and looked out at the passing scenery. At first she couldn't figure out why she felt a vague uneasiness creeping over her, but the sun dipped to the horizon, and the landscape began to darken somewhat, and soon she recognized it. The powerful engine of the car changed pitch as they began to climb. Sheets of rock rose on either side of them. Finally, Carter turned into a driveway, and the gates stood before them, just as she remembered them. Only now they looked smaller, not so looming or forbidding as she recalled. Carter got out of the car and opened them, just as Eddie had on the other night, and then closed them behind the car. It didn't seem to take as long to reach the cabin as it had on that night, but it wasn't as dark yet, she realized. When the car rounded the last line of trees and the cabin loomed before her, Helen felt her breath catch in her. It was a hateful sight. This was where her life had changed. This was where Tank had....
Carter smiled at her.
"Kind of takes your breath away, doesn't it? I had it built about ten years ago. It comes in handy for business sometimes, and also when I want to get away from business. like now. Here we can be alone, darling. Just the two of us. No waiters, no cleaning women, no nothing. Just you and me."
"It's lovely," Helen managed.
The inside was as she had remembered. The bar against the wall, where Tank had probably procured the bottle of whiskey they had forced down her throat, the breakfast bar and kitchen, the masculine, overstuffed chairs and couch. The lights were on now, of course, and so she was able to see things she hadn't on the other night. The floor was strewn with thick, luxurious throw rugs. At the opposite end of the room was a fireplace, and over it hung several animal heads, including a perfectly huge moose head.
Carter led her to the long narrow staircase and at the top made the same two turns to the right Helen's heart beat wildly as they approached the door at the end of the hall. Carter took a key from his pocket and unlocked it. He opened the door, then swept Helen up in his arms and carried her inside.
When he set her down, she looked around at the drapery, the carpeting the small writing desk in the corner. And of course, the bed. The huge, canopied bed. She was suddenly aware of Carter, looking at her strangely.
"Is there something wrong, Helen?" he asked.
"Why, no, of course not, darling. It's just that the room surprised me. It's so feminine, and the rest of the house, what I've seen of it-"
"Yes, well my wife decora-" He stopped and looked at her horrified. "Oh, Jesus," he said. "Oh, my God, how stupid of me."
Helen managed a smile.
"It's all right, darling."
"No, no, it's not all right. It's unthinkable. How thoughtless of me."
"Darling, it's really not that important. It's a lovely room. I'm sure-"
"We'll use another room."
"No, don't be silly-"
"Look, there are five other bedrooms in this hutch of mine. There is no reason why we can't use another one."
"Well, if you really don't mind, darling."
Carter put an arm across her shoulders and drew her close. He walked her out of the room.
"Actually," he said, "there's no reason why we have to stay here at all. We can find someplace else-"
Helen turned to place herself against him, molding the front of her body against his.
"Now that's nonsense," she said. "I love this house. You're in it."
Carter's arms went around her, drew her tightly against him.
"We'd better find us a bedroom," he said, his mouth close against her ear. "It wouldn't be seemly for me to take you here in the hall."
They planned at first to spend two weeks at the cabin, but the two stretched to three, and then to four. There was a chest type of freezer in the kitchen, and another in the service porch, and a large refrigerator. The cupboards were stocked with canned goods. There was enough food, all together, to last them for several months without scrimping. The bar was well stocked with liquor, even though Carter noticed with a chuckle that a few bottles of scotch were missing. Danny, he hold her, had a key to the cabin, and often, he was sure, brought his friends here for a little boozing.
The cabin was equipped with electricity. There was a washer and a dryer, and each of the bedrooms and the living room and rumpus were equipped with color television sets, all hooked to an antenna installed in a tree at the top of the hill behind the cabin. All in all, they could live in comfort and luxury here for the better part of a year.
After the first week Helen started to get bored with the place. She wanted to return to the house, to take over as its mistress, establish her authority and begin planning seriously how to work revenge on her three tormentors. But Carter was delighted with the hideaway. He was like a child with a new toy, and Helen was determined not to show anything but enthusiasm. If Carter wanted to get up in the middle of the night and broil a couple of steaks, Helen managed to choke hers down, even though not the least bit hungry. If Carter wanted to stroll in the woods, Helen was certain to be an avid naturalist. And when Carter wanted to make love, which was most often, Helen saw to it that she came to his arms with the enthusiasm of a nymphomaniac who has just escaped from a year in solitary confinement
He seemed insatiable. Her body, that had seemed such a wonder to him before their marriage, now seemed doubly so. Helen thought that he must have a mania for things that he considered his own. That was probably what had driven him to rise from poverty to incredible wealth. At any rate, now that their relationship was legitimatised, with no further reason to hide and skulk, and now that Carter was free of the guilt feelings that had obviously plagued him when he thought he was guilty of seducing an innocent, all the stops seemed to have been pulled. He was like a bull. At times, when they had been making love for hours, and Carter had fallen asleep beside her, Helen would rise and go into the bathroom to shower, and then, freshly toweled, would tiptoe back into the bedroom to find Carter awake again. The very sight of her, pink, and scrubbed, and naked as the day she was born, would set him to breathing hard, his hand visibly atremble as he beckoned to her.
At first, Helen took as much pleasure in the new experience of unrestricted sexual activity as Carter did, but then, as the weeks wore on, she became a little bored with it, even restive. Carter's virility was unquestionable, and he was certainly an attractive enough partner to please any woman, but his lovemaking was unimaginative. He took her as he took one of his broiled steaks: with gusto and relish, but simply, routinely, without any of the subtleties that she had enjoyed with ... Se broke off the thought. That part of her life was over. Danny wouldn't dare to touch her now. And besides, Carter would never suspect that she found his love-making lacking in any way. She would run to him whenever he crooked his little finger, and she would present to him a picture of a woman humid, excited, and maybe a little giggly, as though his passion meant more to her than anything else.
She owed him that much, she told herself. As his wife, she owed him the feeling that he was like a god to her in every way, particularly sexually.
She knew there was more to it than wifely duty. She felt guilty about Carter. No man had ever been more brazenly trapped into marriage. Her reasons for marying were nothing like the ones she had led him to believe. They were worse than that. They were inimical to his own son.
Well, what difference does it make, she thought. He'll never know the difference. I'll see to it. Perhaps when I find a way to get back at Danny I'll have to do it in such a way as to hurt his farther, but I'll see to it that he doesn't know I had anything to do with it. And then I'll spend the rest of my life with him making up for it.
They had been at the cabin twenty-two days when they left. Carter took the wheel and drove down the winding mountain highway, back toward the estate. He looked happy, Helen thought, completely so. But he also looked tired, worn out, from the constant sexual activity.
CHAPTER FIVE
The ride to town wasn't short. Helen usually took some reading material with her, or the latest of Jimmy's lessons to correct on the way, but this time she sat in the back seat of the Rolls Royce and gazed thoughtfully at the back of Martin's head.
The big chauffeur whipped along the road expertly, holding the big car at the exact speed limit, Helen watched his large, hair-covered hands on the wheel. They were powerful and competent.
"Martin."
He glanced at her in the rear view mirror. "Yes, Madame?"
"How did you come to be a chauffeur?" He didn't answer her at once, and for a moment she half expected him to tell her to mind her own business. "Mr. Carter tells me you used to be a professional boxer," she rushed on.
"Yes Madame." He stopped and seemed to have no intention of going on. Then, after a long moment, "I was heavyweight champion of the West Coast, and about ready for a title shot But I ran into some medical trouble. Something wrong inside of me that I can't even pronounce. The doctors said it wouldn't bother me as long as I led a normal life, but training, road work, stuff like that ... " He made a waving motion with his hand, and Helen noticed again how large a hand it was.
"Then I heard Mr. Carter was looking for a chauffeur and bodyguard. Im not a bad driver. I was a mechanic in the Army, and I'm an expert shot. The job seemed cut out for me."
"How long have you been employed by Mr. Carter?"
"For years now, ma'am."
"I imagine you know quite a bit about Danny's friends." Her voice was elaborately casual, but he looked at her again.
"I suppose so, ma'am."
"Do you know a young man named Tank?"
"Yes, I know him."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Take me there, please."
"Ma'am, if you don't mind a little advice, you'll stay away from Tank. He's a bad egg."
"I'll be all right. Danny asked me to deliver something for him."
"Yes, ma'am."
On the edge of town Martin made a different turn from his usual route, and Helen saw the beginnings of the lower end of the community, where the so nice people lived. They drove past run down houses and dog-eared yards, full of inoperative cars and dirty faced children who gaped at the passing limousine.
Finally Martin turned the big car into driveway and stopped in front of a ramshackle garage. The house next to it leaned a bit to one side. The windows were almost opaque with dirt. The steps in front of it were badly sway-backed.
Before Martin could move, Helen jumped from the car. The door slammed behind her with a solid thunk.
"Ma'am, I whish you'd ... " Martin started, but Helen was already walking toward the house in long purposeful strides.
She hoped the fear she felt didn't show through. She felt a weakness in her knees. Her heart was thumping against her ribs like something possessed. Without giving herself time to think, she raised her arm and knocked lodly.
He looked much as he had on that first night she had seen him. He wore black peggers and a filthy white T-shirt. He had a stubble of beard and his eyes were full of sleep. He was in his socks.
When he saw Helen, his eyes widened and he started to slam the door. She placed a hand against it.
"Don't shut me out, Tank." He hesitated, just long enough for Helen to push her way through the opening. Her body brushed against his.
The inside of the house was as she had expected, filthy as a sty. The furniture was elderly and in disrepair. There was a couch against the far wall, its nape worn almost away. His boots stood in front of it, next to a clutter of empty beer cans. There was a pile of magazines there too. There was a table at one end of the couch, with a lamp on it, and a chair, a straight backed kitchen chair, against the wall to Helen's left That was all.
Helen looked at Tank and he shifted his weight.
"What do you want?" he asked truculently. But there was something else in his voice, too, a harshness born of simple, sudden desire.
"Why, I came to see you, darling," Helen said. "And don't think it was easy. I had some trouble finding out where you live without arousing suspicion."
Tank scratched the top of his head and looked at her with simian eyes.
"Well, why'd ya want to see me?"
"Oh, Tank, don't you know? Do I have to say it?"
He looked at her warily. He seemed almost shy, not at all like the brute who had grunted and pawed atop her just a few weeks before. Helen waited for him to make a move. He stood looking at her. His breathing was ragged. Finally, she ran toward him, throwing her arms about his neck and clinging to him tightly, the full length of her body plastered against his. She kissed him ardently. His own arms found their way around her waist. He stank like a living pig pen.
Finally she pushed herself away from him.
"Wow," She stepped back, looking dizzy. "My head is spinning." She walked to the back of the room and sat on the couch, crossing her legs luxuriously. She allowed her skirt to glide up just a little further than necessary.
Tank swaggered toward her.
"Why, you little bitch," he said. "You hot crotch little bitch. Who'd a thought it?"
He sat down close beside her. One thick, hard arm circled her shoulders and drew her close. With the other hand he squeezed hard on her breast, hard enough to hurt through her bra. He kissed her again, and Helen placed her own arms about his neck. She leaned back, drawing him onto her. Tank's hand slid down her side and hip and began inching up again under her skirt. His palm was hot and moist on the inside of her thigh. Helen broke off the kiss.
"Darling," her voice was breathy, and it hasn't all acting on her part. "Darling, help me get out of this dress, before I explode."
"Sure." He chuckled with male vanity. "Sure, baby." He pulled her to an upright position on the couch, and she felt a tinge of fear at the strength in his arms. She hoped she hadn't miscalculated.
She turned away from him and he began working at the catch of her dress. He pulled down the zipper and began working the dress forward off her shoulder.
"Christ," he breathed, and leaned forward to kiss one bare white shoulder.
Helen took a very deep breath and screamed. She screamed until all the breath was gone, and then inhaled and screamed again. Tank sat dumfounded beside her for a long moment, apparently too startled to move. When he did move it was with disconcerting speed. One hairy fist clamped over Helen's mouth and the other arm locked around her throat. Helen struggled and kicked but his strength was unbelievable. She could barely move. Tank pushed her to the couch, belly down, her face turned toward the back. His own face came terribly close.
"What the hell's the matter with you, you dumb bitch?"
Helen's face felt as though it were afire. Tank's hand was like a steel clamp. The insides of her cheeks hurt from being pressed against her teeth. Her lungs seemed about to explode. She lay very still and breathed noisily through her nostrils.
Then, suddenly, the weight was lifted from her. She looked up just in time to see Martin, huge in his black chauffeur's uniform, lift Tank clear of her, hauled him back a step, then, with a grunt of effort flung him across the room
Tank went across the worn hardwood floor, doing a little dance to keep his feet under him. His head struck the wall noisily, and he pawed at it to keep from falling. Then he turned and looked at Martin for just a moment. His hand dipped into his pocket and came out with a long, closed knife. It was the one he had used to clean his nails the night he had raped Helen.
He moved his thumb, and the knife came awake with a sudden sibilance. Martin smiled.
Tank struck an elaborate stance and moved forward on the balls of his feet. Martin waited for him, standing easily, his weight distributed on both feet, his arms at his sides and bent just a little. Tank rushed forward, the knife held a little in front of him. Martin waited until the last possible second before moving. Then he bowed his back, pulling his belly away so that the knife swiped by a scant inch away. He grabbed Tank's arm and spun him around, using his own momentum to turn him. He locked an arm around Tank's neck and pulled him back onto his heels, off balance. Then Martin's right hand came into sight again, and there was a short, shiny black revolver in it He rammed the muzzle forward into the lower part of Tank's back.
"You ever try to piss without kidneys, son?" It was obvious he hadn't meant his words to be heard by Helen, but in the sudden silence of the room carried to her quite clearly. Martin jerked back on his arm, shaking Tank like a rag doll. "Last chance, boy." Tank's fingers opened and the knife spilled to the floor with a hard clatter. "Now," Martin said quietly. "That's a sensible fellow." He holstered his gun, then grasped Tank's right arm and jerked it up behind him in a half nelson. The ease with he bent that massive arm made Helen feel more confident. She hadn't miscalculated.
Martin looked at her.
"Are you all right, Mrs. Carter?"
Helen was trying to arrange her clothes, pulling the zipper up awkwardly.
"Yes, I'm all right." Her voice was shaky.
"Would you like me to get the police, ma'am?"
"No. No, that won't be necessary."
Martin hesitated.
"Are you sure, ma'am? After all, what this punk tried to do to you is a felony. He should be punished."
"Yes, I suppose he should. But I don't want to get mixed up with the police."
Martin heaved an audible sigh.
"As you wish, Madame."
"Why don't you do it, Martin?"
He looked at her in sudden surprise.
"That's right," she went on. "We both think he should be punished. You punish him. If you don't mind."
There was a smile on Martin's face.
"As you wish, Madame. Would you like to leave? This won't be pretty."
Helen picked a cigarette from her purse and lighted it. She sat back and crossed her legs.
"To me it will be beautiful," she said. "I'll stay."
Martin released Tank, shoving him across the room. He began to take off his coat.
Tank turned toward him, rubbing his sore arm.
"Chrissake, what is this?" he whined. "Can't you tell a frameup when you see one? This bitch is ... "
"You better watch that language, boy. You're just making things worse for yourself." He tossed the black coat to the couch and snapped into a professional looking scouch, moving forward on the balls of his feet. Tank began to back away.
"I tell ya this is a frame. Goddamn it, why don't you think she wants you to call the fuzz?"
"Mrs. Carter's reasons are none of your business, boy. You're just here to hurt a little. Now put up your sticks and fight, you yellow punk."
Tank looked at him for a moment, then made a break for the door. He had to pass close by Martin to get there, and as he did so, Martin's right fist came up into his belly so fast Helen didn't even see it move. Tank doubled over the fist, and Martin brought the edge of his left hand down on the back of Tank's neck. The youngster fell to the floor, writhing. Martin stood over him, his fists held low. "Getup, boy."
Tank looked up at him with pain filled eyes. "Please." .
"Get up. Or I'll kick your head in."
"Chrissake, I ... "
"Last chance, boy. On your feet, or you'll be shopping for a new skull."
Tank drew his knees up under him and hauled himself to his feet.
"Please," he said, "just listen."
Martin raised his fists again and came forward, rocking on the balls of his feet. Tank backed away, but this time he raised his own fists clumsily, in a parody of Martin's professional guard. As Martin came closer, Tank suddenly threw a wide, swinging punch. Martin brushed it aside and hammered once on Tank's jaw, rocking his head back. The youth jumped back, then threw a punch low, at Martin's belly. But the belly wasn't there, and Tank was pulled off balance by the force of his own punch.
Martin tossed a quick feint toward Tank's chest. Tank grunted and stumbled, and Martin clipped him neatly .on his right eye.
It Was obvious that Martin wasn't trying to knock Tank out. He was deliberately holding him up while he cut him to ribbons. He moved in, now, hitting Tank at will, raining quick, stinging blows all over his face and body. Finally Tank fell to the floor, breathing heavily.
"You're not finished yet," Martin said. "Get up."
Tank hauled himself to his feet. He had fallen near the room's one chair, the spindly straight chair Helen had seen when she had entered. He used the chair as a handhold now, pulling himself laboriously to his feet. He stood leaning over the back of it, hands clasping it, trying to catch his breath. Martin moved in.
Then, when Martin came within reach, Tank swept the chair over his head with surprising suddenness and brought it down hard. Martin saw it corning, but there wasn't time to get out of the way. He bent double, and the chair came down on his back. It made a hard, snapping sound, and one leg broke off and rolled across the floor.
Martin fell, rolling into a ball and moving away from his opponent.
Tank dropped the chair and ran for the front door, moving stiffly and clumsily.
Martin came up on his feet and dived forward, catching Tank in a flying tackle. The two men went down in a flailing mass, and then Martin broke free and yanked the younger man to his feet He threw him hard against the nearest wall.
"That wasn't too smart, fella. In fact that was pretty dumb. I'm going to show you how it's done now."
This time there were no feints, no light jabs. Martin moved in, his fist moving like two lethal, efferent pistons. The sound of it and the tiny drops of blood that sprayed from Tank almost made Helen blanch. But then she thought of that night at the cabin, and the callous brutality with which Tank had treated her.
Finally, Martin stopped and moved away. Tank slid down the wall to a sitting position, then, slowly, rolled onto his right side.
"I'm afraid that will have to do, ma'am." Martin was a little out of breath. "Any more, I'm afraid of internal injuries."
Helen dropped her cigarette to the floor and mashed it under one foot. She came to her feet, slinging her purse over her shoulder as she did so.
"That's just fine, Martin. You've done very well. I'll see to it that you are suitably rewarded."
"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you will."
Helen walked across the room to where Tank lay sprawled, hugging his belly. He looked up at her, his eyes swollen almost closed, his nose a shapeless mass. Whether he found the courage in some deep reserve he hadn't known about, or whether he simply thought that nothing more could be done to him, the one word he spoke surprised Helen.
"Bitch."
Helen stepped directly in front of him and brought her foot back and then forward in a short, vicious arc. The steel tipped pointed toe of her pump caught him square in the mouth. Helen heard the snap of a tooth as Tank's head rammed back against the wall.
"You'd better watch that mouth, Tank," she said sweetly. "It's bleeding."
Martin wanted to take Helen straight home, but she insisted on making the purchases which had been the ostensible reason for the trip to town.
They went to the stationery store, where she bought a text book and a workbook and some pencils and paper. She paid for it with a check from the new checkbook Carter had given her, an ornate thing with "Mrs. Richard Carter" stamped on the cover, and printed on each violet colored check.
Martin carried the bundles out to the car and took his place behind the wheel.
"I want to thank you again, Martin," Helen said, as the big car sped toward home. "You saved me from an ugly experience back there."
"I just did the job your husband pays me to do, Mrs. Carter."
"Teaching him that lesson afterwards wasn't part of your job. That was a favor, and I won't forget it."
"That was my pleasure, ma'am. I love to bloody up a punk like that. It's what they need."
"Well, I can see that Mr. Carter was right. Your protection is very valuable. I think you deserve a reward. Perhaps I can persuade my husband to give you a raise."
"Thank you," ma'am. That would be very nice."
They drove on in silence. Martin turned in at the gate, waited for Wilbur, the decrepit gatekeeper, to open the gate, then drove down the path toward the house.
"Ma'am, if you were sincere about wanting to reward me..."
"Of course I was sincere," Helen said.
"Well, there's something that would do me a lot more good than a raise," he said.
"Whatever it is, if it's within my power to secure it for you, it's yours. I owe you that after today."
"Oh, it's within your power to give it to me, ma'am. The only trouble is that its sort of a complicated deal. It will take some explaining." He pulled the car up in front of the garage and flipped the switch on the radio control that opened the garage door. He eased the car inside, then flipped the switch again and the door rumbled shut. Helen felt a bit uneasy. This was the first time Martin had neglected to let her off in front of the house.
"I wonder if you would mind coming up to my quarters for a moment, ma'am? So that we can discuss it."
"Why can't we discuss it in the house, Martin? My husband can probably do more for you than I can anyway."
"Well, I thought you probably didn't want him to know about what happened today, ma'am."
"Yes, that's true. He has enough to worry about as it is."
"Well, that's what I thought, Mrs. Carter. And besides, there's something I have to show you to make the favor I'm going to ask seem sensible. And I'd rather no one else saw it Please, ma'am. It will just take a moment"
Helen hesitated. It would definitely not be seemly for her to go into a servant's private quarters alone with him. But she didn't think anyone had seen them drive into the garage, and anyway it would seem even more off to Martin if she refused such a harmless request from a man who had just saved her from attempted rape. And he was, after all, Carter's most trusted servant.
"All right," she said. "If it won't take long."
CHAPTER SIX
Martin's quarters were over the garage, and could be entered by a staircase in the garage itself, without being seen from the outside. Martin led the way, unlocking the door when he reached it. He stepped inside and held the door for Helen.
It was a spacious room, quite comfortable looking. Helen had occupied worse in her day, and she thought that Carter did very well by his servants. The thought only held her mind for a second, because Martin closed the door and shot the bolt, and as she turned around to tell him that she didn't think that was too good an idea, something smashed into the side of her head, and the room seemed to come apart explosively. She felt the floor shift wildly under her feet, and as she fought for balance rough hands grasped her and threw her across the room. She fell onto the bed, and started to get up again, when a huge hand clamped over her mouth and forced her down hard onto the spread. Martin's face came very close to hers.
"No noise, no struggles," he said. "I know how to hurt you without leaving a bruise. Got that?"
Helen managed to nod, though it hurt her jaws with Martin's hand clamped so hard against them. The hand came away slowly, as Martin assured himself that she wasn't going to scream. He moved his grasp to her shoulders, pinning her to the bed.
"What do you think you're doing?" Helen asked with as much hauteur as she could muster.
"Why, nothing at all, Mrs. Carter. Just claiming that reward you promised me."
"It's going to be an expensive reward. It will cost you a few years out of your life, and a felony record."
"Oh, are you going to report it? Fine. Then I'll tell your husband all about that little farce today."
"I have nothing to be afraid of. That was attempted rape."
Martin removed his right hand from her shoulder and slapped her across the face. The blow was hard enough to turn her head to the side. It brought tears to her eyes.
"You bastard," she cried, trying to rise. Martin slapped her again. She lay back.
"The one was for taking me for a fool," he said. "I don't like people to think I'm stupid. The second was for calling me that naughty name."
"What do you mean about taking you for a fool?"
"Well, now, we both know there wasn't any attempted rape this morning, don't we? That kid asked me if I didn't know a setup when I saw one. Well, I do. And that was the prettiest frame I've ever seen."
"If you thought that, why did you beat him up?"
"Because you wanted it done. And I wanted that reward I knew you'd give me. like I said, it's something I need worse than a raise. Something I've been wanting ever since that first day I saw you in Carter's library. When you conned him into marrying you, I thought my chances were gone. But then today you handed me my opportunity on a silver platter."
"My husband trust you. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Don't talk like an ass. Of course he trusts me. I've seen to it. The only reason to get people to trust you is so that when you shove it to them they won't expect it. Now, we can do this either of two ways. You can take your clothes off, or I can take them off for you. Which is it going to be?"
"Let me up," Helen said tiredly.
"Fine. Just don't try to get out the door."
"I know how quick you are, and how strong. I won't try to get away."
Martin released her. Helen stood and began to strip without looking at him. She undressed quickly and in silence, as though in the privacy of her bath. When she had peeped down her panties, and stood naked before him, Martin stood and began to take off his own clothes. He stood between Helen and the door. While he stripped. Helen turned down the bed. The sheets were fresh. Thank God for that at least, she thought. She lay on the bed and moved over to the side against the wall. Martin lay down by her side and drew her close. She could feel the hardness of his body, the raspiness of his thick body hair, against her. She circled his neck with her arm and drew his head down, kissing him long and hard. His manhood thrust against her, bulging and heavy and insistent His hands moved along her sides, tracing a path downwards her hips. He slid one hand over to her abdomen, laying his palm against the soft flatness of it, his thumb touching the outside limits of her pubic hair. She felt her breath quicken, felt the familiar fire in her loins, felt her thighs and arms grow heavy with pleasure and desire.
While his hand stroked and kneaded her, moving slightly, very slightly downward with each revolution, he kissed her. Helen opened her mouth to accept the kiss and felt his tongue touch hers, move across it and probe the inside of her mouth exploringly. She felt it touch her teeth, her gums, the roof of her mouth. She was surprised to discover that this kiss was very sweet. His hand had stroked its way to its destination, and she felt one finger probing, pushing into her belly at a leisurely, luxurious pace. The pleasure shot through her body like an electric shock, sending her legs sprawling apart for him as though snapped there by a spring.
Martin inserted two more fingers, probing her insides, caressing the walls of her body, the thumb on the outside combining with the fingers inside to squeeze and press and knead her flesh, sending wave after wave of pleasure sweeping over her.
He kissed her again, as deeply and wetly as before. His free hand rested on her breast, just barely squeezing and relaxing, just enough to increase the pressure on her nervous system. She moaned loudly, like a female cat in heat.
She felt the rasping prickliness of his-haired legs as he mounted her. She shifted in the bed to accommodate him. He began to lower himself to her, and Helen closed her eyes, preparing herself for the sweet shock of his entrance into her body.
But Martin came down on top of her without penetrating her vagina, letting his manhood slip between her thighs. He laughed a little. He knew the state to which he had brought her, and he was enjoying her torment of desire.
Helen's head rolled from side to side on the pillow, moaning in a pain of need. Her hands grasped savagely at Martin's sex organ, brushing against it as he drew away. He laughed again.
"Please! Oh, God, please!" Helen gasped, thickly. "I can't stand it! Do it now! You must do it now!"
"Sure." His voice was thick with desire like her own, but he was in complete control and knew it. "Sure, since you say please." He raised himself over her again and then came down, slowly, inserting himself into her with great patience, stroking, up and down, moving only very slightly into her with each stroke.
Helen grabbed his buttocks and pulled, trying to force him into her more quickly, but he was far too strong for her efforts to have any great effect. But he was more deeply into her body now, and she heard her own voice, her moan reaching the proportions of a shriek as the pleasure, the bittersweet agony of it became too great to contain.
Martin plunged all the way into her now, his body pumping and surging his seed into her with every throb of her heart. Her legs circled his small, hard waist and clamped him to her, locking them together as one flesh. It was all one, now, the hairiness of his body on hers, the slick of sweat that covered them both, the beating of her heart with trip hammer rapidity, the taste of his tongue, all gone, all mixed together into one incredibly sweet batter of joy.
She came out of it, exhausted, reeling with the power of her own emotions, her hands feeling of the bed for solidity, as the room still spun about her. Her breathing came in patches.
Martin drew away from her and regarded her thoughtfully from the edge of the bed.
"Jesus," he breathed. "Jesus. You are something. I knew you were a mink the first time I laid eyes on you, but..."
"That's a lie!"
He shrugged. "Have it your way. But I was right, wasn't I?" It's just that you come on even stronger than I suspected."
Helen threw her feet over the edge of the bed and rose, a bit shakily.
"All right," she said. "You've had your reward, as you called it. From now on leave me alone. I don't want to see you again. I know I can't make you quit your job, but-"
"Are you kidding?" Martin asked, looking at her within a slightly surprised look on his face. "Honey, this is only the first installment of my reward. You and me, hell, we're going to be having a lot of these little meetings."
"That's what you think. I put up with you this time because there wasn't any way to avoid it, once you had me up here. But the first time is definitely going to be the last time in this case."
Martin stood up, towering over her.
"You have got to be kidding," he said. "I've got more on you now than I had a half hour ago. baby. This is something no husband would ever forgive. Screwing for the hired help."
"He won't believe it. He'll believe me."
"Wilbur saw us drive in the gate about forty-five minutes ago. He keeps a log, you know. Makes an entry every time he opens the gate. And an electronic device records the time the gate opens too."
"Then I'll tell Dick the truth. That you raped me."
"Uh-huh. You were just up here in my room waiting for a street car, and I came along and raped you."
"You lured me up here!"
"Sure. You going to tell your husband that? Right from the beginning? Let's see. You went to Tank's house to deliver something for Danny, right? Of course Danny will back you up on that. And then you went inside the house yourself instead of asking me to do it. And when Tank drew the wrong conclusions and I saved you from a fate worse than death, you didn't want me to report it to the police, but you did want me to beat Tank to a bloody pulp for you. And then you came up here with me on a flimsy pretext, which you weren't bright enough to see through. That about covers it, right?" He looked at her a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice had the gentle quality of a man speaking to soothe and animal he has trapped. "That's a lot to expect a man to swallow, baby. Even a man as goofy about you as Carter is."
"What do you want," Helen asked tiredly. 'I'll give you money."
"You bet your sweet life you will. But money isn't everything. It can't buy love."
"How often do I have to-"
"Oh, I'd say twice a week would keep me from getting too horny."
"Twice-"
"a week. That's right. Ml be easy. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, say, you'll decide you want to go shopping. Naturally, I'll drive you. Your husband wouldn't have it any other way. I know some places where they ask no questions."
"I'm sure you do."
"You don't even have to register, if you're willing to pay for the privilege. You are willing to pay, aren't you?"
"Of course."
"Of course. And speaking of money, since I'm going to be driving you around so much, and keep-big you company all the time-"
"You think it's only fair that you should receive some extra money. Sort of an allowance that I could pay you myself, in cash, without telling Dick about it"
"Right! Very good!"
"Just what amount do you think would be fair."
"Well, I don't want to be greedy. I think two-fifty a week would do me, considering the fact that it will be tax free."
"That's a lot. Aren't you afraid my husband will get suspicious?"
"Oh, I doubt that. Since he gave you your own checkbook, and instructed the bank to cover any checks you write."
"How did you know that?" Helen asked, her composure shaken.
Martin laughed.
"Just an educated guess, baby. It figured, knowing Carter, and how nutty he is about you."
"You're so God damned smart!"
"Smarter than you, baby. That's where you made your first mistake. You thought that because my English isn't as good as yours, and I have a nose that's pushed to one side a little I was just a dumb ex-pug. Well, I'm better equipped to survive in the jungle than you are, sweet pants. That's why I own your ass now. Don't ever forget it"
"I won't."
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Martin let Helen go, she went back to the house and climbed the long staircase to the second floor. It seemed endless, and Helen ached in every bone and joint. She realized that her tiredness and soreness weren't entirely due to the physical ordeal through which Martin had put her. She was emotionally weary, defeated. Only when she remembered Tank, lying on the floor, helpless in agony, did she feel any sense of satisfaction. It might be worth it. But now she was in worse trouble than before, with a man just as brutal as Tank, and a lot smarter. It wasn't going to be easy getting rid of Martin.
She went to the master bedroom and sat on the edge of the massive bed for a moment, unable to summon the energy to undress and shower. There was a knock at the door.
"Yes?" she called. The door opened and Danny walked in. He was wearing his school clothes, and Helen realized with a start that it was after four o'clock and that Carter would be coming home in an hour or so.
"Good afternoon," Danny said, lowering himself into a chair with casualness. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to congratulate you. I haven't god around to it"
"Don't you know it's improper to congratulate the bride?"
"But so appropriate under the circumstances."
"All right. So I'm congratulated. Anything, else?"
"Well, actually you're congratulated twice. Once for what you did to Tank."
"Oh, you heard about that?" Helen stood and unzipped her dress.
"Yes. He told me about it today. Seemed to think I should do something about it Do you want me to leave the room?"
"Don't be an ass. It's a little late for me to start getting coy with you, isn't it? I mean, except for your two friends and a couple of doctors, you were the first man to see me in the raw. Are you going to?"
"Going to what?"
"Do something about it. For Tank."
"Christ no. Why should I? Tank's a jackass for falling for a setup like that"
Helen pulled off her slip and threw it on the bed, then began working at her bra.
"Need a hand there?"
"Would you mind awfully?"
He rose walked around behind her. He loosed the snaps quickly and expertly: Helen held the bra before her. She turned to face him.
"As I said, I just came in to congratulate you. You really took care of Tank Do you have something like that in mind for me?"
"Don't be silly, darling. Tank is a dumb brute. I tailored his punishment accordingly." She peeled away the bra and tossed it on the bed. Danny walked back to the chair and sat.
"Just what do you have in mind for me? That is, you don't mind telling me."
"Why spoil surprises? But it will be something extra special."
"Well, maybe you'll tell me something else then."
"Maybe."
"An I next? or Eddie?"
"I don't suppose it could hurt to tell you that much. I'm saving you for last."
"So now you're zeroing in poor little Eddie. Do you suppose it would help if you knew something about him?"
"Anything might help."
"Well, let's see. He's a straight A student. His parents are what you might call middle class respectable. Lower middle class. They've been working like hell for the last ten years to save enough for him to attend an Ivy League college. He wants to work for the government. I think he entertains dreams of being secretary of state or something. He's not very popular. He has about three or four real friends, and I don't think he's had a date in the whole three and a half years he's been in high school."
"Naturally. Otherwise why would he find it necessary to rape women?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm very popular with girls. And I rape women."
"How true." Helen pushed her panties down over her hips and let them glide to the floor "Now, I have to take a shower. That is unless you insist on a quickie beforehand?"
Danny stood.
"There won't be any more of that between us."
"Really? What a pleasant surprise."
"You're my father's wife now."
"And that makes a difference? Then you really shouldn't be here, should you? With me in this condition and all?"
"As you said, I've seen it before. By the way, do you remember what I said the other night, the last time we were in the sack?"
"Every word."
"Well, I just want you to know that it still goes. You're father's wife, and that means you don't have to screw for me any more. But you'd better screw for him, baby, and you'd better make him think you like it."
"I do like it"
"And there'd better be no other men. Because if you hurt that man, baby, I'm going to have to break your back. And I don't really care what happens to me."
"Is that aD?"
"Yeah, I guess that about covers it"
"Well, then, I really must take my shower. I want to be nice and clean for your father when he comes back. You know, he-likes to spend some time alone with me before dinner."
Danny looked at her, her body an open book to him.
"You filthy bitch!" he breathed, and started for the door.
"Oh, Danny." He stopped and turned. She walked toward him, her hips grinding and swaying with each step. When she was right in front of him, close enough to smell the wool of his sweater, she stopped for a moment, then stretched to her full height and kissed him on the cheek. "Just a little kiss from stepmother, dear." She laughed throatily as he went out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Three days later, on Thursday, Martin began to collect the installments on his "reward." Helen had given Jimmy a recess at ten o'clock, and had decided to go for a dip in the pool. At about ten-thirty she was lying beside the pool, sunning herself, when she saw him approaching, walking across the tile dack like a dancer, his body never out of balance or control. Helen felt her belly tighten with apprehension. He stopped a few steps from her and touched the brim of his cap.
"I just wanted to tell you, ma'am, that I have the car all tuned, and it'll be ready for you when you want it."
Helen sat up, shading her eyes with her hand. He was a black silhouette against the sun.
"That's fine," she said, detecting the code he was using.
"I believe you said noon."
"Yes, noon will be fine." She watched him walk away, calm and in control, then she rose to her feet and went to find Jimmy. He was watching television in the den.
She drew the terry robe about her and walked up beside his chair. She sat on the arm and kissed the top of his head. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Hi," he said. "This is one my favorite pictures. Can I watch it all the way through?"
"Sure. As a matt-er-of-fact, I came to tell you that I have some shopping to do. You can have the rest of the day to yourself."
"Oh, boy!"
"But you'd better be ready for some hard work tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Why don't you wait till the next commercial, and then go tell the cook I said you could have a coke."
"Gee, thanks."
Helen hugged the boy to her for a moment, then mussed his hair. "So long, pal."
She showered very carefully, then dressed as she would to go shopping. She had packed a little kit for this occasion, with her feminine hygiene gear. Now she put in a large purse and looked at her watch. It was five minutes to twelve. She inspected her makeup, to be sure everything was normal, then headed down the stairs.
Martin was waiting beside the big limousine. He touched his cap when he saw her, then opened the door for her.
The oar moved down the road swiftly and silently.
"Where are you taking me?" Helen asked.-
"A little motel about twenty miles from here. It's a favorite place of mine. They don't ask any questions."
"Shall I start stripping right now?"
"Plenty of time when we get there. Besides, you have a stop to make first."
"I have?"
"At the bank."
Martin waited in the car while Helen went into the bank. She wrote out a check for three hundred dollars and took it to the window. The girl checked her account and asked her how she wanted the money. Helen took two one hundred dollar bills and two fifties. She had decided it would be better to each different sized cheeks every week before giving Martin his money. It would keep anyone from becoming suspicious.
"Do you want me to give you the money now?" Helen asked when she was back in the car, and it was moving out of town.
"I think you know better than that"
"Sorry."
"Just don't get wise. I may be a chauffeur, but you're the real servant here."
"Yes, of course. I forgot. I'm sorry." Helen wondered if it would always be this way, her heart pounding at her rib cage at the slightest sign of displeasure from him. She heard that dancing bears were trained by making them stand on hot while the trainer played music, so that from then on whenever they heard the music, they would react as though they were standing on the coals again. I'm like that, she thought. It took Martin just one short session to rain me. I guess women learn faster than bears.
The motel was a dingy double row of cabins, old and dog-eared and none too clean.
"Not exactly the Ritz Carleton, is it?" she said. "No, but the price is right. Fifty dollars a day."
"Fifty dollars!"
"That is unless you want to go in and register." Helen handed him the fifty dollar bill and he went into the office.
A moment later he came back and got into the car.
"Cabin twenty." He drove the car into a carport between two of the cabins. Helen got out and walked with him to the front of the cabin. Martin unlocked the door and they entered. Helen began to undress before the door was closed, starting with her gloves, then her shoes and hose, dress, slip, bra and panties. Martin watched her, then undressed himself, hanging his clothes neatly in the closet. Helen turned down the sway-backed bed. She lay back, waiting for him. When she felt his weight beside her, she turned to him and drew him close.
Martin's hands moved her, and Helen felt the hot desire well up inside her. She wondered if she would ever understand herself. She hated this bastard's guts, yet all he had to do was touch her like this and she came all unglued.
He pushed her and made her lie on her back, passive and unyielding.
"Don't move," he said. "Don't do anything. Just hold back as long as you can." He began to stroke her, his hands moving over her breasts, her belly, her vulva. His mouth over her, too, kissing and tasting her. She didn't know whether she was growing more passionate with her increased experience or whether Martin was becoming more adept already at playing on her body like a musical instrument, drawing it to passionate heights. Whatever it was, Helen felt the passion flare in her loins and grow so quickly that in a few seconds she felt it enveloping her like a fog, taking away her senses, her awareness of anything farther away than those insistently stroking hands, that ever moving mouth. As the fury grew in her, she dug her nails into the sheet, trying to obey his orders, to lie still, when every muscle in her body throbbed with the necessity of answering his advances with the passion that grew in her, rising in presure like the contents of a soft drink bottle that has been shaken.
She knew what he was doing, of course. She knew that he was deliberately forcing her to bottle up the emotions he was kindling in her so that when the damn finally burst she would be even more frantic, and even more demanding, and even more giving in her lovemaking than she had been three days earlier in his room.
There was more than that to it. Helen knew, realized even in her present hysteria of passion that he was enjoying this, taking a sadistic entertainment from his ability to do this to her, to reduce her to helplessness, not through pain, but through pleasure, and the need of pleasure, the kind of need that only his hard, fountain of a body could quench.
Now she lay, sweat breaking out on her body, her head rolling from side to side with the frantic need that consumed her. Her legs began to stir, to tremble, then to writhe, moving across the expanse of the bed like two soft white serpents obeying no will but their own.
"Now lie still," Martin said, his voice calm, ironic, even contemptuous.
"I can't, oh please. God, please, now. Now, now-now, now."
His right hand had been stroking her thighs, her vulva and her belly. Now he used it to enter her, his strong, hard fingers finding their way past the lips of her belly, deep into her, massaging the walls as they went. It was really unbearable now. Her body pitched and rolled, an entity in itself now, beyond her power to control, even if it meant that he beat her for disobeying him.
Then she saw, through the fog, his organ, stiff and hard as a spear, slick and shiny, and beginning to waste his seed on the bed, and she heard his breathing in her ear, ragged and uneven, and she knew that he was almost as far gone as she, and that she was free to act now, without fear.
She opened her body wider, pulling away from his groping hand, spreading her legs enveloping him as he came down into her, his seed spilling hotly on her belly and then into her, and then their bodies were pumping and surging together, somehow managing to strike and keep a frantic rhythm, so fast that it was almost a vibration, their bodies humming together like two tightly wound strings on a violin. Her legs were tightened around his waist until she thought she must break ribs, and he grunted with pain pleasure, his fingers digging into her breasts until she shrieked in her agony. And then it all came together, the rhythm, the pain, the pleasure, their sweat slicked bodies, and she felt the red heat of her body reach her brain, blocking out all awareness, just the redness in her eyes and head, like standing in the middle of the sun, and then it exploded all around her and in her, and she fell, fell, fell, it seemed she would never stop, and then she was lying on the bed, soaked in perspiration and the juices of their bodies, the sheets torn and limp. Her body felt as though it had been run through something, every bone in her body felt soft and soggy.
She became aware of Martin lying next to her, his tough body looking flaccid and soft now, bloated with fulfillment. She stirred, the movement painful and sore, and saw his head roll toward her. He look-at her in silence. Helen knew that she had given more than he had expected, sated him in a way that he hadn't believed possible. Now, she thought, was a good time to ask him the thing she had been considering for the past three days.
"Darling. Do me a favor."
"Why the hell should I?"
"No reason. You don't have to. You have me where you want me."
He looked at her for a moment. "What's the favor?"
"Do you know a skinny little boy named Eddie? He's a friend of Danny's."
"Four-eyed little bastard? Sure. What about him?"
"I want you to help me do something to him." Martin suddenly sat up.
"What is this?" he demanded. "First Tank, now this Eddie. I think you'd better tell me what you're up to."
"Please, darling. It's just something I want to do." She ran her hand up his thigh. Her knuckles brushed his penis, and she felt a stirring there. Martin jerked her hand away.
"Cut that crap. I want to know what's going on."
"Please. I can't tell you."
He took her hand in his grip and squeezed hard. Helen cried out. "Tell me."
"Aaaahhh. No. Oh, noooo, I won't."
"Won't? You won't?" He looked at her, surprised, and increased the pressure.
"Oooohhhh! No! I wont. Please! I won't! Even if I lose my marriage, I won't tell you that. I'll do anything else you say, but not that. Ohh, please!"
He released her, and she jerked back the hand and began to rub it. It was numb.
Martin looked into her eyes for a long moment.
"You know, I believe you. I don't think you would tell me."
"Will you help me, or not?"
"What do you want me to do?"
She told him her plan, concisely and in detail. It was a simple plan, and it made Martin grin wolfishly.
"I gotta hand it to you," he said. "You really know how to hit below the belt. You're a bitch, but you're a gold-plated bitch."
"Then you'll do it?"
"It will be my pleasure."
Helen felt a sudden elation.
"For a thousand dollars, of course. Above my usual little stipend, that is."
"Naturally."
"I really should ask more. TO be taking some chances. But I kind of admire your style."
"TO have the thousand for you tomorrow, if you Kke."
"No hurry. It'll take me a while to line up the girl. She'll have to be someone we can trust not to spin her guts later."
"You can always bend her arm the wrong way. That always seems to convince me. Just remember. No one must know that I'm mixed up in it. For your good as well as mine, baby. If my reputation is destroyed, you won't have a hold on me any more."
"Right So we'll keep you pure. In public. In the meantime, though, I think you and I should celebrate our little bargain.
Helen became aware of his meaning with a slow horror. My God, she thought, he must be made of iron.
"Don't. you think it's getting a little late? I should get home before my husband."
"Why? That old fool will believe anything you ten him Now shut up and screw."
He laid a hand on her cunt and Helen felt the fires stirring in her again, not as powerfully as the first time, but still enough to be undeniable, and she knew it would all start again.
CHAPTER NINE
Helen went about her duties as mistress of the household and tutor to Jimmy, always living under the cloud of Martin's ownership of her. When she was with him, in the motel, with the lights out and the shades drawn, she found herself enjoying the sexual experiences, reveling in the ecstasy he was able to excite in her.
But then, in the light of day, she would remember the things she had done, and the things she had allowed done to her, and she would feel shame crawling over her like a living thing.
She would inspect the housework of the maids, tell the cook what to prepare, assign lessons to Jimmy, and all the time tell herself that the next time Martin came swaggering up to demand her favors, she would not, could not, go with him. But then next time would come, and she would feel the self loathing at the realization that she would go with him again, jumping through any sexual hoops he wished, like a well trained bitch. And mixed with the self loathing would be the tiny knot of excitement, the realization that this man would soon bend her to his will, make her do things she had done for no other man, and simply because they gave him pleasure. He would own her, she knew, as surely as any plantation owner owned a Negro slave
For a little while, she wouldn't have to think, to plan or scheme. He would tell her what to do, and the things he would tell her to do would be simple, basic things.
It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her sex life with Carter. It was just that he was, well, diffident. Thoughtful, and considerate. And gentle. When Martin was gentle, which wasn't often, he even made that an act of contempt, implying that he didn't have to be rough with her, since it was impossible that she would try to refuse him anything he cared to demand.
And then, afterward, she would go home to her husband and face him across the dinner table, and, later, go to his bed, and realize that she had once again betrayed this man who had meant her nothing but good.
"What difference does it make?" she soothed herself. "He's happy. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Finally one night, he noticed her withdrawn attitude. When he asked her what it was, she denied that anything was wrong.
"Tell me," he commanded, his voice growing stern. Helen thought fast and furious. For a crazy moment she had the urge to tell him the truth, to say, "I'm screwing for the chauffeur. Not because I want to, but because I have no choice." But she bit her lip and suddenly blurted out something she hadn't realized had occurred to her.
"Your mother was here," she said. "About two weeks ago."
Carter looked at her, his face suddenly white.
"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Helen asked. "I thought your parents were dead."
"My father is," he said. "I don't see much of my mother. I take care of her, naturally. Send her whatever amount of money she needs to do the things she things make up a full life."
"She didn't like me. I tried to be nice to her, darling, you must believe that, no matter what she tells you."
"Of course I believe it. You don't have it in you to be anything else. My mother is a bitch."
"Dick, you mustn't say that about your mother."
"Why in Christ name not?" he demanded with sudden violence. "A bitch is a bitch, despite the biological accident of her having given me birth. What did she say to you?"
"Oh, darling, it was nothing."
"It was enough to throw you into a blue funk for the last two weeks. Did you think you were covering it up? I know you better than that, my dear. Now, what did she say?"
"Well, she accused me of trapping you into marriage. I guess there was just enough truth in it to hurt me."
"What else?"
"She practically called me a whore. She said would watch me, and sooner or later I would make a mistake, because my kind always does. And then she would expose me, and I'd lose everything I had schemed to gain. By that, I gather she meant your money."
"Was that all?"
"Practically."
"What else?"
"Oh, darling, it was nothing. She called me a few names, that's all."
"She ... ! "
"Now, don't get excited, dear. They weren't that bad."
"What did she call you?" Carter asked through clenched teeth.
"Dick, I rather not talk about it."
He grabbed her by the arms, tightly, then forced himself to be more gentle.
"Tell me."
"Well, she called me a tramp and trollop, and ... "
"And?"
"And a bitch," Helen murmured, her head lowered.
"What? What did you say?"
"A bitch!" Helen suddenly threw herself at him. "Oh, dearest, it was awful. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't compete with her."
"Of course you couldn't. You're too fine to able to descend to her level. Well, you'll never have to.
I promise you that. I'm going to se her tomorrow, and by the time I'm through with h-er-"
"Dick, no please. It will only cause greater unpleasantness. Please, promise me."
He looked down at her for a long moment.
"All right," he said finally. "If that's the way you prefer it. But there's one thing I can do to make sure there's no repeat performance." He walked to the intercom and punched the button for the gate. "Wilbur? This is Mr. Carter. Listen to me. My mother is never to be allowed on this estate again. Do you understand? If you let her on here, it win mean your job. And your pension. Good. See that you don't"
He hung up the ivory colored phone and turned back to Helen.
"She won't bother you again. And there's something else I intend to do to her. Something that wUl frost her worse than anything I could possibly say to her."
"Richard, please don't do anything youll regret. After all. she is your mother, and she probably has your best interest at heart Apparently she was very of your first wife. At least she compared me to h-er-"
"That's a laugh. Fond of her. Listen until my first wife died, my mother hated her guts. She used to compare her to a girl I went with in college!"
It was Martin who brought it up, at the motel on their next visit there. They were lying on the bed, and he was smoking a cigarette. It was a little cold in the room, and Helen was close against him, enjoying the heat of his body.
"I've found the girl," he said quietly. It took Helen a moment to realize what he meant. Then she sat up and looked down into his face in the dimness.
"What's her name?" she asked.
"Sandra Michaels. Sandy, they call her."
"Is she willing?"
"Sure. She was a little leery at first, but I told her I was a friend of Eddie's father, and I felt sorry for him, never having had a girl friend."
"She swallowed that?"
"Seemed to. Anyway, I showed her the fifty dollar bill, and then she was willing to swallow anything. She's more or less the high school whore. Not really a whore yet, but in training. An easy lay if you show her a good time, buy her a little gift. For fifty bucks she'd blow her grandfather."
"How old is she?"
"She just turned seventeen last month."
"Are you sure of that?"
"I checked it out. She's built like a woman of twenty-five."
"Has she started on him?"
"That same afternoon, on the way home from school. She waited on the street corner for him, then dropped her books and stood looking at him with a real helpless expression. He like to fell all over himself picking them up. She said something to him, I was too far to hear and they went on down the street together."
"What next?"
"Well, if she did as she was told, she made a date with him. I suggested that she ask him over to her place some evening to help her with her homework."
"Won't her parents be there?"
"Her parents both work nights."
"Any brothers or sisters?"
"One of each, both older, both married."
"Beautiful."
"She's perfect. So perfect I think I deserve a bonus for finding her."
"Another thousand?"
"Good. I told her I'd meet her tomorrow. To find out about the date. I plan to do a little spying."
"Be careful I don't want to be linked to this in any way."
"Don' worry, neither do I. But as long as we're doing this, let's do it right I'm going to get some pictures."
"In the dark?"
"Let me worry about that."
"That's fine with me. Pictures will be helpful."
He looked at the radium dial of his wrist watch.
"It's almost time to start back. I think I'll screw you one more time."
"Be my guest." Their laughter mingled as he rose over her.
CHAPTER TEN
Helen sat in the back seat of the car and smoked. Martin wheeled the big sedan along the road with his usual practiced ease. When they were about five miles from the gate, he leaned forward and retrieved something from under the seat. He handed a large manila envelope to Helen.
She took it and opened it and went through the contents thoughtfully. They weren't really very good pictures. Even with the bad light and difficult conditions a professional photographer could have made far better with his eyes shut.
But they were good enough.
Good enough for identification. The negatives were in the envelope, in a long strip.
"Where did you have these made? She asked the question with concern.
"Don't worry. I did myself, using a friend's equipment. He didn't care. By the way, I had to give him fifty bucks for the loan of the stuff, and for not being curious."
"Of course. I'll give it to you when we get there, dear. You know, I especially like this one, with him right on top of her, and both their faces turned toward the camera."
"Yeah, that's beauty."
Helen replaced the pictures, careful not to scratch the negative.
"Find a safe place for negatives. I don't want them in the house. Send the prints to the girl's father, special delivery."
"Right. You want me to hold off for a day or two, and try to get some more photos?"
"No. We have all we need now. I want to get the ball rolling on this."
He looked at her in the mirror.
"This turns you on, doesn't it? Doing this to that kid."
"That's right."
"When you're like this, you turn me on. I'm really going to enjoy screwing you today."
"You always do, dear. You always do."
It was on a Tuesday that it happened. Helen would wonder for the rest of her life if she could have prevented it.
She could have, of course, if she had simply not allowed Jimmy to go swimming that day, or had insisted that he use the pool behind the house. But there was no reason for that. Jimmy always swam in the lake when he was allowed. Helen was there to watch him. It was a bright, warm day.
What would plague her was the question of whether she could have prevented it after he had gone in, whether he could have been saved if she hadn't had her mind elsewhere, been intent on other things.
It was after lunch. Jimmy had done particularly well on his lessons that morning, and Helen had agreed to let him go in for a swim.
She had decided to put on a swim suit and go down with him, rather than send one of the servants, so that she could sun bathe and perhaps do a little reading.
The lake was an artificial one of course. Carter had had it put in. But it was a full sized lake nonetheless. At the center it was said to be twenty feet deep. Jimmy had been told to stay within a few yards of the shore, where the water was shallowest. But there was an island in the middle, also Carter's idea, and this was too much of a temptation for a boy even of Jimmy's usual obedience.
On that particular Tuesday, he must have decided to see if he could reach it. Helen lay reading her novel, the sun warming her back and legs. The warmth made her drowsy, but she managed to watch Jimmy all the same, casting a glance at him when she turned a page. Jimmy splashed about the edge of the lake, yelling for her to come in with him, when Helen saw Martin, striding across the rolling, manicured lawn, his body flexing and gliding with all the grace she had come to know.
God damn it, she thought. He's getting a little too greedy. He just screwed me yesterday.
Martin stopped a couple of feet away and touched his cap. Helen rolled up on her side and looked at him.
"Afternoon, ma'am. Is there anyone around."
"No-one is close enough to hear us. Damn it, Martin, can't you give me one afternoon off?" He smiled.
"Why certainly, ma'am. As a matt-er-of-fact, I just came out here to deliver a message."
"What is it?" Helen felt a sudden excitement.
"I thought that would get you. Of course, if you'd rather get laid, I'll be glad to oblige. I have a hard on."
"You are a hard on. Now what's the message. Please."
Martin laughed, with full enjoyment.
"You're getting pretty good," he said. Only don't goof up and say something like that around your hubby."
"Just let me worry about that."
"Now, don't get wise, baby. A joke is a joke, and all that, but don't get wise." Helen lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry, honey. Honestly. It's just that I'm so anxious to hear about-"
"That's better. I don't believe in letting my servants get out of hand. What I came tell you is this. It worked."
Helen felt her breath catch.
"How do you know?"
"I was over by the school when the cops showed up. They took him away in a patrol car. A lot of kids watching. He looked like he was ready to shrivel up."
"My heart bleeds for-"
Helen was interrupted by a thin, shrill sound, rather like a tea kettle. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, puzzled. Then the sound came again, weaker this time, and shorter. Helen twisted herself around and looked, horror struck, at the lake. Far out, nearly to the island, a figure was thrashing about, hi the water, foam billowing away from the center of disturbance.
"Jimmy!" She shrieked the name, and started to her feet to run toward the water, but Martin was already running, far faster than she could have, kicking off shoes, shucking off his black coat as he went. He dived into the water, cutting it with knife-like cleanness, and began swimming with powerful strokes. Long before he could reach it the little figure had ceased thrashing and had disappeared beneath the surface.
Martin moved unerringly toward the spot where Jimmy had gone under, then folded himself neatly, pulling up his haunches and bending in the middle, and went under.
He had to come up and go back under three times before he finally found the boy. He brought him back then, swimming as fast as he could while holding Jimmy under the chin, dragging him back to shore.
He climbed out of the water, his clothes sopping and heavy on him, and began to perform artificial respiration on the tiny, still body. He finally looked up and saw her standing helplessly, looking at him, and shouted, "For Christ's sake, get an ambulance, you dumb bitch!"
Whether it was the blind urge to do something, or the reflex she had built to obey him, Helen turned and ran before his words really sank in, before she knew why she was running so fast, toward a house that looked runny and distorted through her tear filled eyes.
Carter had been at a business luncheon, and it took Martin an hour to track him down. He finally arrived at the house at four o'clock in the afternoon.
When he walked into the living room, his face ashen, Helen rose to her feet and watched him approach. She had changed from the bathing suit into a dark, full skirted dress of cotton. She had pulled her auburn hair back tightly. She stood stock still, waiting for whatever stinging words or whatever blows he cared to deliver. She didn't know what Martin had told him on the way home, what he knew of the way things had happened.
He came within a couple of feet of her, then stopped. He looked very, very old, she thought.
"Helen?" His voice was scratchy and unsteady. "Is it true?"
She nodded, not trusting her own voice. Then she lowered her eyes, waiting for the inevitable questions and recriminations.
Carter reached out and put his arms about her, drawing her close. She could feel his tears on her shoulder, and she embraced him, feeling his trembling under her hands.
Someone at the opposite end of the room cleared his throat. They broke their embrace and moved away from each other reluctantly.
It was the doctor, a short, bandy legged little man of about fifty.
He carried a black bag and wore a wrinkled gray suit.
"Excuse me, Mr. Carter," he said. "I just wanted to ask you if you'll want me to make the necessary arrangements, sir?"
"No." Carter's voice was surprisingly strong and steady, now. He's making decisions now. Helen thought. She was grateful, for both of them that he could make them. "No. I'll have that done. We have our own people for those things."
The doctor nodded and turned to leave.
"Doctor?" Carter's voice turned him back. "Doctor, couldn't anything be done?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. Actually your chauffeur did just about everything that could be done. His rendering of artificial respiration got most of the water out of the lungs. But I'm afraid it was too late. The boy was gone by the time I arrived."
"I see. Well, I want to thank you for your efforts, doctor. Did you bring your own car?"
"I came in an ambulance. It's not here, now."
"My chauffeur will drive you wherever you wish to go."
Carter started toward the door. The doctor raised his hands.
"No. please. I shall tell him."
They went up to the bedroom, trudging up the long staircase as though walking through a bog.
Carter sat on the edge of the huge bed and buried his face in his hands and wept. Helen sat beside him and pulled his head down against her breast and held him there, rocking slightly, as though she were comforting a child.
Eventually, the weeping subsided, and he sat up straight, looking at the wall across the room, as though embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I should be stronger than this. But sometimes it's difficult to understand why things happen the way they do."
"If you need something to blame, blame me. If I'd been watching more closely, or if I hadn't let him go in the first place, or if I'd never come to this house at all-"
He looked at her, horrified.
"Helen, darling, don't ever say that. Why if you weren't here now, I don't know what I'd do. I could not bear it. I'd probably kill myself."
"Hush now, you mustn't say such things. You have so much to live for. So many people depend on you. And you still have a son. And me, if it means anything."
"It means-"
"And we're both young and healthy, darling. There can be other children."
He laid a hand on her cheek, gently.
"Yes. Yes, there can be. You can give me another child. Our child." He pulled her to him, kissing her, softly, at first, gently, then with more passion. His hands began to work at the zipper of her dress. When it was open, and the dress had been slipped off, she lay back, drawing him down with her, to comfort him in the only way that was left to her.
Helen never knew quite how she managed to get through the funeral. The coffin looked incredibly tiny as they lowered it into the ground. It was hard to believe that such a tiny container could hold something as vibrant and active as Jimmy had been only a few days before. Cause of death was officially listed as accident, but the officers who filled but the report looked at Helen in a way that made her want to crawl under something.
Helen and Carter took a week away from everyone. They went to the cabin. Carter took the phone off the hook and they holed up there like two fugitives. Outwardly, it was much like their honeymoon. Carter's need for the comforts her body could provide was greater than ever before. But there was no joy in their lovemaking now. It was a refuge, a haven in which they could forget for a few precious minutes at a time what lay out there beyond the wall that surrounded the cabin.
Carter drank incessantly. Helen would plead with him to stop, to eat something, but it was no use. He ate less than a man should be able to survive on. But often she would wake in the middle of the night to find him gone, and then she would know that he was down in the living room with a water glass in his hand and a half empty bottle of scotch or bourbon on the table next to the couch. She finally learned that the best way to behave at such times was to go down and sit beside him, saying nothing, refusing to reproach or entreat either by word or attitude, until finally he would rise and take her hand and they would walk together back to the bedroom. And he would make love to her, gently, beautifully, with no joy as they had known it, but with a kind of comradeship, as though they were soldiers caught in the same trap, by the same vicious enemy, wilier and stronger than they were.
They returned to the estate on a fitting day, drizzling and dreary, with no hint of sun through the gray overcast.
The butler greeted them somberly, and Carter told him they would like dinner served in their room. They went through the mail in a half hearted way, and then Carter said quietly. "I'm going back to work tomorrow. If you don't mind. I have to get busy. I have to do something."
He looked so much like a little boy pleading with his mother that she told him she wouldn't mind. But inside she screamed at the thought of waking up tomorrow to a day alone, a day without lessons to prepare, without drill, and reading, and arithmetic. A day without Jimmy. She hadn't realized that he had become so much a part of her life.
Is it really that, she thought, or are you just feeling guilty?
Carter left for this office the next day with his briefcase in his hand, a crisp new suit and sharply starched shirt making him look almost like his old self again. Helen rose earlier than usually did, and dressed in a black dress and pulled her hair tight back and waved goodbye to him as Martin drove him down the long private road to the gate.
She went back into the house and tried to read a book, but it was no use. The words kept slipping past her eyes, and soon she realized that she had read several pagos without absorbing anything.
She left the house and walked on the grounds, walking finally to the lake. She looked at it like one who is visiting an enemy. But it was so quiet, so beautiful, and Jimmy had loved it so much. And it had ben her fault, not the lake's.
She sat on the grass and looked at the lake and envied Carter his business, his something to do. Gradually, she became aware of someone standing near her, and she looked up, startled, to see Martin.
"Oh," she said. "It's you. Don't you think it's a little soon to resume that?"
"I just came down to ask you if you still want to get Eddie."
"Eddie?" She had some trouble focusing on the name. "Oh. Yes. Eddie. What do you mean? I thought that was all taken care of. You said he had been arrested, didn't you?"
"That's right. But since you and Carter took off for the boondocks there's been a little change. A fly has squatted in the ointment."
"What do you mean?"
"It's been in all the papers. Sandy's parents were the ones who pressed charges, naturally. But since then there's been a new development."
"Will you tell me what you're talking about?"
"The little bitch is pregnant."
"I see. So what does that mean?"
"She wants him to marry her. I don't think her parents are too happy with the idea, pregnant or not. They don't like Eddie, and they don't see what she saw in him. He's too much of a bookworm type for them. They're intellectual snobs in reverse."
"Then where's the trouble?"
"Eddie has promised to marry her if she can get her parent's permission. And she won't testify against him. Without her testimony there's no case."
"What about the photographs?"
"Inadmissible. And anyway, I don't think the
D.A. would even bring the case to court if Eddie and Sandy got married."
"She must be pretty desperate to get a father for her brat if she'd marry that twerp."
"It's more than that. I think she's a little guilty in the conscience. She has a Joan of Arc complex. Sees herself washing diapers and cooking meajs and being a good wife to Eddie for the rest of her life. It'll wear off water a month of wedded bliss, of course. But by then it'll be too late, for your purposes. On the other hand, being married to that little tramp would be an evil enough fate. If you're willing to settle for that."
Helen came to her feet, a kind of savage joy flooding through her. Here was her something to do.
"I'm going to pay a little visit to this Sandy. Now. Today."
He looked surprised.
"I thought you didn't want to get personally involved in this."
"I think I can handle it without getting involved. Get out the car."
"It's already out."
"Good. I'll be ready in half an hour."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a small frame house in a second rate part of Medford. Sandy answered the door herself, and looked at Helen suspiciously, a bit fearfully. But Helen's expensive clothes, the car outside, and the business-like manner with Helen met her, either impressed the girl or piqued her curiosity.
"Please come in,, " she said with obviously unaccustomed formality. "We'll have to be quiet, though. My parents both work swing shift They're sleeping."
She led Helen to a living room furnished with old but well kept furniture. They sat on the couch, a foot apart, half facing each other.
"What can I do for you?" Sandy asked.
"It's what I can do for you, dear." Helen looked carefully at the girl. She saw a child, prematurely a woman in body. As Martin had said, she was built like a twenty-five year old woman, and a well built one at that. In ten years she would be flaccid and overripe, but now she had the kind of shape that caused men's heads to twist. "I have read, of course, of your misfortune. Of the horrible thing that has been done to you."
"You don't have to feel sorry for the fallen woman, Mrs. Carter." The girl was a little miffed.
"It's not that at all, Sandra. I'm sure you're a very nice girl. I can tell that by looking at you."
"All righ. I'm a nice girl. Now what's this about you doing something for me?"
"Sandra, life has been very good to me. So far as material things are concerned. I've been given wealth and a certain standing in the community, without really earning any of it. I'd like to help those who are less fortunate than I. Now I know it can cost a great deal of money to have a baby. And even after it's born, there are other difficulties. Getting situated, finding work. You have to live while all this is going on."
Sandy looked at Helen with a different expression, more attentive and respectful.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Carter, but are you planning to-to lend me some money, maybe?"
"Not lend it, dear. Give it. Ten thousand dollars."
"Ten thou-" Sandy caught herself, lowered her voice back to the quietness of before. "I don't know what to say, Mrs. Carter. I-I didn't think there could be anyone so kind."
"It's very little, my dear, after the ordeal you've been through."
"Oh that's wonderful. Wait till tell Eddie."
"Tell Eddie?"
"Yeah. I mean, yes ma'am. We're gonna be married. And this money will make such a difference, He won't have to quit ... " She stopped suddenly. "Have-have I said something wrong, Mrs. Carter."
"Marry? Did you say marry?"
"Yes, ma'am. Well, we have to, for the baby, you know."
"My dear, marriage is a sacred estate, instituted by God. You can't mean to tell me in all seriousness that you would consider marrying this-this monster."
"Monster?"
"This beast who raped you?"
"Oh, but it wasn't really rape, ma'am."
"According to the law it was."
"Well, yes ma'am, but that's kind of a technicality, really. It's just that-"
"Sandra, how old are you?"
"Seventeen, ma'am. I'll be eighteen in nine months."
"Then you're hardly of sufficient age to judge whether the law is right or wrong, are you."
"But ma'am-"
"I want to help you, Sandra. But I could hardly lend my support to the idea of bringing up an innocent child in the same home as that fiend." She picked up her purse.
"No, wait, please, Mrs. Carter. Wait!" She was practically in tears. Helen set down the purse.
"Please, ma'am. What do you want me to do?"
"Do? Why, my dear, there's only one decent thing you can do. Testify against this sex fiend in a court of law. See to it that he's put where he can't do this to some other innocent young girl."
"But he's not like that. He's kind of nice, really. Kind of shy."
"That's just what he wanted you to think. You're very young, my dear, and very naive. Believe me, every man of this type has an act that he uses to fool girls, to have his way with them. How do you know you're the first sweet young thing he has seduced?"
"Well, I don't, I guess ... "
"Of course you don't. This may be the first time he was caught, that's all."
"Someone sent my parents some pictures of us. In-"
"Has it occurred to you that those pictures my have been sent by another girl who has suffered at his hands? Or by her parents or brother?"
"No. No, that hadn't occurred to me."
"Of course it hadn't. Can't you see that this-rapist must be taken out of circulation? And then watched?"
"If I do testify against him, what will happen to him?"
"Less than he deserves. He'll go to prison, probably for a couple of years, and then he'll get out on parole. That me ns he'll have to report to a parole officer every week, and he won't be able to move or change jobs without permission."
"And after he gets off parole?"
"He'll be a convicted sex offender. Any time he enters a new town, he'll have to register as such with the local police. And if there's a sex offense committed, he'll be taken down and made to stand in a lineup. Any time of the day or night. If he's working, he'll be taken right there by the police officers."
"That's very harsh, isn't it?"
"It's a way society has of protecting itself against this kind of person. By keeping an eye on them. But the law is helpless to do anything, unless you're willing to do your duty as a citizen."
"I just wonder about one thing. Eddie told me he wanted to work for the Government. Would this ruin that?"
"Of course, and rightly so. Would you want a deviate like that in a responsible position? I understand he's a brilliant boy. Do you think he should be allowed to work himself up to such a position that he might find himself in charge of an entire office, with innocent young girls working under him? Girls who be impressed by his position?"
"No. I guess not. That would be terrible."
"Certainly it would. My dear Sandra, your course is clear."
"Yes. Yes, I guess so."
Helen took out her checkbook and wrote swiftly, then tore off the check and pressed it into the young girl's hand.
"There, Im so glad to find out I was right about you, Sandra. So glad to know that you're a nice, sensible girl, and that you're going to do the right thing."
Sandy looked down at the cheek, then up at Helen.
"Ma'am, I-I don't want to seem--I mean, this check is for five thousand-"
"Of course, dear. You'll get the other half when you've done what you have to do. When you've testified. When Eddie has been convicted. And sentenced."
CHAPTER TWELVE
The trial took the headlines in the local newspaper, though it was over too quickly to help circulation much. Sandy took the stand, looking demure in a white cotton dress, with no makeup. She testified quietly, telling the jury how she had dropped her books one day while walking home from school, and Eddie had picked them up for her. He had struck up a conversation with her, she said, and because he knew that she was not a very good student, he had offered to come over to her house and help her with her lessons. It was on that night that he had seduced her, she admitted. He had discovered that there was a bottle of whiskey in the house, and had insisted that they try some of it in their cokes. She wasn't used to drinking, she said....
When the defense presented its case, Eddie's lawyer had attempted to call some witnesses to prove that Sandy was not of good moral character, but the judge ruled that since the girl was under age, and therefore not capable of consenting, her moral character didn't enter into it. Furthermore, since it was felony offense to have sexual relations with a girl not one's wife under the age of eighteen, such witnesses would be incriminating themselves, and their testimony would be inadmissible. So the defense's attempt to counteract the good impression Sandy had made on the jury failed. In fact, Helen, sitting in the back of the courtroom, thought she saw a couple of members of the all male jury grow a bit miffed at the lack of chivalry in the part of the defense attorney.
Then the attorney made a second mistake, and a worse one. He called Sandy back to the stand and tried to break her story. He succeeded in breaking her nerves, but not her story. In the end the prosecutor objected that since Sandy was under age, the exact details of who had seduced whom were not relevant. The judge sustained the objection and Sandy was led from the stand, weeping into a small cotton handkerchief. The jurors looked after her, sympathetically.
The verdict was an anticlimax, really, for everyone except Helen. The jury deliberated for a half an hour, then trooped back into the courtroom.
"How do you find the defendant?" the bailiff asked.
"We find the defendant," the foreman of the jury said, and paused dramatically, as he had no doubt seen it done in the movies, "-guilty."
There was a general buzzing in the courtroom. Eddie's mother, sitting in one of the front seats, screamed and collapsed against her husband, who put his arms around her mechanically and sat staring at nothing. Helen felt a savage glow of triumph.
Eddie, standing facing the jury, wavered, his legs suddenly rubbery. He started to fall, and his lawyer had to hold him up. He was crying. Helen savored every tear as she would have savored a fine wine.
"The prisoner will face the court," the bailiff commanded, and with his lawyer's help, Eddie turned toward the judge.
The judge cleared his throat.
"Ordinarily," he said, "this court is wont to treat youthful offenders with leniency. However, tile deliberate, cold blooded seduction, or rape as the law correctly characterizes it, of an innocent young girl. is a practically heinous offense, not to be borne by society. The safety of every young girl in this community depends on the knowledge that her impaired ability to resist the advances of unscrupulous men can and indeed will be reinforced with the ability of the law to resist for them.
"Therefore, Edward Willis Stone, it is sentence of this court that you be taken from here to the State Penitentiary, there to serve a term of not less than five, nor more than fifteen years."
Eddie's mother shrieked again, and the judge rapped twice with his gavel.
"The court is aware of the strain under which the defendant's mother is laboring," the judge said sternly. "However, no such outbursts will be tolerated." He looked at the suddenly shrunken looking woman for a moment, as though to make certain that his warning had sunk in. Then he turned back to Eddie. "The court also wishes to take this opportunity to declare that it will earnestly recommend against parole for this prisoner. Court adjourned."
Helen sat and watched the bailiff put the cuffs on Eddie and usher the bewildered looking boy from the room. A policewoman had to hold his mother back to keep her from rushing to him.
Never in her life, Helen though, had she felt so good.
Helen slept late the next few days, emotionally exhausted, she realized, from the business with Eddie, and also from the increased demands Martin was making on her.
Carter came home, and told her that he would have to leave again the next day on further business. He was apologetic, and Helen made sounds like a disappointed wife, but inside she was glad. She had begun to feel a bit guilty about the things she had been doing, about the way she had been using Carter, and the time he was out of town she could forget for a while.
Also, she wanted time to think. About Danny. She had come into this house, she reflected, to punish Danny. She had told herself that she wanted to punish him more than she wanted the other two boys. And now the others were neatly disposed of, Tank a nervous wreck, she was told, who flinched whenever someone made a sudden move in his presence, Eddie a very young man without a future. And Danny still hadn't been touched.
She wondered now, whether she had ever really meant to hurt Danny. She had planned to do it, consciously, of course, but she wondered now if underneath it all her plan of revenge hadn't been just an excuse to come here, to get Danny to do again what he had done to her in that cabin.
Yes, she had to admit finally, she loved Danny. She had never loved another man, and the reaction to him at first had been violent. He had kidnapped her and raped her, and then turned her over to two other men to do the same. It was only natural that she had thought that the emotion she felt for him was hate.
But now she thought back to that night, that time on the bed with him when his hands moved over her, sroking her into a frenzy. She remembered the sweet pleasure, remembered her helplessness, not just helplessness of a captive, but the helplessness of a woman swept up in her own emotions, enveloped in a searin pleasure so powerful it left her too weak to move her limbs.
And the other times, here in this house, when he had taken her in her bed, and she had told herself that she couldn't cry out, couldn't fight him, because it would ruin her plans of revenge against all three of them. She knew, now, that she hadn't called out because she wanted it to go or, forever.
And now she was prepared to offer herself to him body and soul for the rest of her life. So, if he seemed not to want what she had to offer, the only possible answer was that she was putting on too good an act He was taken in by all the pretense of hating him. The deadly efficiency with which she had set about getting even with the other boys had scared him.
So, she concluded, she would just have to tell him that she loved him. No. No, that wouldn't do it. He would never believe her. He'd think it a trick, part of her plan to avenge herself on him. No, telling him of her love wouldn't do.
She'd have to prove it
* * *
She planned carefully. Carter was going away the next day. Danny always went out on Friday night, and came home drunk. She could give the servants the evening off. That would place them here alone when Danny came home, just the two of them, late at night. There would be nothing to fear, then. And if he wouldn't make the advances, then she would. She'd get through to him this time, she vowed.
It was the next Friday night that she selected, since Carter was still out of town that night, and she didn't want to take a chance on waiting for the next time he would leave.
She made certain that all the servants would be out of the house, then went shopping for a new nightgown. She selected a black one, contrasting with her soft white skin. She had her hair done, wearing it down, softeningly around her face. When Friday night finally came, she took special care, showering and perfuming herself, and applied her makeup as though creating a masterpiece.
When she was finished, she inspected herself minutely, from her toenails to the top of her head, assuring herself that everything was in perfect order. Then she put on the black nightgown and sat carefully on the foot of the bed, waiting. She switched on the television set, using the remote control unit, and sat watching it, but she didn't really know what she saw. Her mind was on the things to come, the little pleasant job that lay ahead of her, and she was nervous as a bride, she realized. Or as nervous as a bride was supposed to be. She hadn't been the least bit nervous on her wedding night.
He finally came in at one-thirty, walking up the stair with the uneven tread of one who has been drinking the night away. Helen switched off the TV and sat for a moment, waiting for a little extra courage to come to her, waiting for that uneven tread to reach the top of the stairs.
Finally, she came to her feet and walked to the door. Danny was coming down the hall, toward his own room. She called to him.
"Danny?"
He stopped and looked at her for a moment, as though trying to figure out who she was.
"Oh, hello, Teach," he said finally, and his words were only slightly slurred by drinks. "Can I do you for something?"
"I wonder if you'd mind coming in for a moment. There's something I'd like to discuss with you. It's quite important."
He shrugged and started forward without hesitation. Helen waited until he was quite near, then stepped back just a little, so that he had to brush the front of her body to pass.
He walked on into the room, then turned and looked at her. Only a slight, occasional swaying, a certain lack of focus in the eyes, betrayed the fact that he was drunk.
Helen closed the door and turned to face him. She could feel herself trembling with nervousness, and silently told herself to stop it.
"I want your help, Danny," she said quietly, walking toward him. He stood watching her, obviously not having the slightest idea of what was coming next. Helen came close to him, letting her perfume, and the smell of freshly bathed skin reach him. She stood like that for a moment, then placed her arms around his neck, drawing herself against him, her body molded against his, and then their lips touched lightly.
Suddenly Danny shoved her back, not as roughly as she had expected.
"Danny," she said, her voice husky and low, "please. Don't push me away. I want you. I need you."
"Well, that's damn poor luck for you, baby. I told you. You're my father's wife. Now, if that's all you wanted ... " he started away, toward the door.
"Danny?" He turned and looked back at her. "Aren't you going to undo me?" She held her arms out at her sides.
"That thing doesn't look that hard to get out of."
"Does that make a difference? You've always undone me before, when you came to visit. Are you afraid to do it this time, darling? Is it getting harder to do it and then walk away?"
He stood looking at her across the width of the room, obviously debating with himself whether the challenge was worth taking up. Finally he shrugged and came forward.
He pulled the tiny string that tied together the top part of the gown's front, and it fell open to her collar bone. He looked at her face and smiled, contemptuous of her belief that she had any real power over him. She smiled back at him as he began to loosen the snaps of the gown, one by one.
If he had been sober, she never would have got away with it. His concentration was on the job of opening Helen's gown, and his senses were dulled by alcohol, and he didn't notice her hands moving toward him, didn't see the little movements of her arms as she worked, keeping her eyes on his. He didn't feel the little tug as his zipper was pulled down, wasn't aware of the probing of her hand, until it was too late.
Helen saw the sudden awareness in his eyes at the same time that she felt his organ stiffen and grow in her hand. He started to pull away, but she placed her free hand on the nape of his neck and held him, while she stroked and massaged him below. His eyes went glassy, his breathing grew fast and ragged. He made one more little attempt to pull away, but it was a token effort. Helen felt a surge of triumph. She had him now. This was one time he wouldn't walk away from her, one time he wouldn't leave her panting after him like a bitch in heat, the frustration in her a real and monstrous thing. Not this time, little Danny boy, she thought. This time you're going to give me what I want.
With her right hand she unbuckled his belt then opened the top button of his pants. They fell in a puddle around his feet. She stopped the massaging and held his organ in her palm, feeling the strong throb of it, as though it had a heart and life of its own. She let it he in her hand, not moving, teasing and tormenting him. His body moved, convulsively, an inch toward her, and she laughed, a low and throaty sound, at his helplessness.
She inserted the fingers of her right hand under the waist band of his shorts and pulled the snaps loose, one at a time, pausing in between. When she had opened the last one, the shorts followed his pants to the floor.
His genitals were entirely exposed now, and she caressed them insistently, one hand on his penis, the other moving lightly, teasingly over his testicles. Danny grunted with each movement of her hands, his body twitching and jerking with pleasure and desire. She felt his organ growing with each stroke, bigger and stronger, and throbbing. She felt it grown moist in her palm. His hands were on her shoulders, his steel hard fingers raising welts on her skin.
She had been leading him across the floor, toward the bed, inching, leading him like a dog on a leash. Now they were almost on it, and she sat on the edge of it, keeping her hands on his private parts. He followed her down, sitting down beside her. She began to unbutton his shirt. She had never known this feeling of power before. Danny was helpless against her, against the pleasure she could give or withhold. She could give or not give, take or not take. The decision was hers, and she intended to keep him on the hook for a while before she let him know what she was going to do. It was obvious that his desire for her had been as great as hers for him. He had just been better at hiding it. But now she had broken through that reserve. For the first time in a sexual encounter she was in command, the man was her slave, to do with as she pleased. She continued to stroke and pet his organ, teasing him to an unbearable fever pitch of excitement. She could feel desire for him, but nothing like he was obviously undergoing. She was even slightly amused at the helplessness of her victim.
Then Danny's hands moved, sliding down from her shoulders. One of them cupped her breast, while the other came to rest on the inside of her thigh, lightly, petting and stroking.
Helen felt the flash of heat in her loins, the warm languor in her limbs, that had become so familiar, and with it a spark of dread. She could lose control, she knew, become as helpless as he. But it was already too late to consider that. Her legs came open without any thought of hers, wide open, and his hand moved up into the hot nest of her vagina. She felt his fingers enter her, probing and stroking her vaginal walls and brushing her clitoris, and her body seemed to explode. She pulled him to her, falling to the bed, drawing him on top of her. Her hand on his organ squeezed and milked and pulled him to her belly. He came over her, big and looming like a bird of prey about to devour her.
His hands clasped her, opened her, and she pulled him into her, inserting his sex into hers with frantic urgency. She felt him swell and bulge and fill her, the friction of his pumping organ sparking in her ecstasy greater than she had ever known before, greater than she had known with Martin, far greater than she had ever known with Carter, a pure savage passion that switched off her brain as it switched on her body. She knew that she was as helpless now as a machine, a robot programmed to react in a certain way. She had no more choice, no more volition than that.
Her legs encircled him, pinioning him to her, immersing him in the soft white flesh of her thighs. Her mouth found his shoulder and she bit until she tasted blood.
It ended, not because either of them felt any diminution of desire, but out of sheer exhaustion. But it was a kind of exhaustion that couldn't hold them for long.
Helen never knew how long they lay together that night, in ecstasy of each other, how many times they parted to lie side by side on the bed and then come together again, groping for each other's bodies.
Once Danny seemed to come out of his fog of desire and passion long enough to start to get up. She placed her hand on him, her long, tapering fingers, and he lay back, as helpless, as full of desire as though they had only begun. She rearranged herself, drawing her body up between his legs, and took his organ in her hands. She kissed it, the tip of it, then drew it into her mouth, tasting the salt and alkaline taste that she had learned to know. His whole body jerked convulsively as he rose to her, his organ throbbing and spurting, his legs locking around her neck, his hands pressed to the back of her head, pulling her closer, ever closer into the hot, sweaty recess of his crotch, until she choked and fought for breath. She broke away when his body gave its last, convulsive shudder and relaxed, spent. She drew deep breaths waiting for the return of his strength, waiting for the moment when she could return to him, bestow upon him the ultimate gift of her shamelessness, give him, once more, the ultimate, erotic kiss.
That kiss passed between them many more times that night. Many more times she tasted the saltiness of his manhood, many times she moved forward, burying her face in the wonderful, masculine heat of his crotch.
It was almost morning, the sky beginning to gray in the East, when it happened. They were lying side by side, and then they started again, Helen stroking Danny into excitement, and Danny moving to cover her, and entering her, for she did not know what number of times, and then suddenly the room plunged into light, and the sound, that horrible sound of gasping and groaning from the door. They broke apart, Danny rolling away from her, and sat up on the edge of the bed, shading their eyes from the sudden glare.
Richard Carter stood in the doorway, the briefcase slipping from nerveless, sweat slicked fingers, his left hand clutching at his chest. His eyes were glassy, and his face had the haggard, flabby look of the suddenly aged.
"Dad!" Danny cried, and came to his feet in a single swift movement, rushing toward Carter, but not quickly enough to catch the stricken form before it fell to the floor.
Helen sat stupefied for a long moment, then rose tiredly and knelt beside her fallen husband.
"Get a doctor," she said to the frantic Danny, and he ran down the hall toward the telephone, forgetting about the one in the bedroom. Helen began mopping Carter's slicked brow with his own breast pocket handkerchief.
"Why, Dick?" she asked tiredly. "Why, of all the trips you've taken since we've been married, did you have to pick this time to come home, early and unannounced? I didn't want this to happen. And if you had to catch me, why at least couldn't it have been with Martin? That wouldn't have been as bad. But no. I guess it had to be this way. I guess it was inevitable."
He lay still, his eyes staring at her, glazed and lifeless. She couldn't tell whether he heard anything she had said, or could have understood it if he had.
She felt light and dead inside, as though someone had scraped her clean with a knife.
The doctor arrived within an hour. He was the family doctor, a short balding man who had served the Carter family for thirty years or more.
He looked at Helen wrapped in a woolen robe, and wished her a good evening. He had dressed in a hurry, and his clothes were buttoned wrong.
He was in the bedroom with Carter for more than two hours, while Helen and Danny sat in the library, silent. Danny drank mixing drinks from the bar, drinks that seemed to have no effect on him. Finally the doctor entered. He had rearranged his clothes. In the bright light of the library his beard shone, patchy and blue. His face told Helen what she had expected.
Danny dropped his glass with a strangled gasp and ran out the door, heading for the room. Helen looked at the doctor.
"He never regained consciousness, Mrs. Carter." Helen felt a guilty relief at that.
"Can you tell me what caused it?" she asked dully.
"A massive coronary occlusion. Inevitable, sooner or later, I suppose, but I had hoped that, well that it would be later."
"I didn't know he had a bad heart"
"He didn't tell anyone. I tried to get him to level off a bit, but he wouldn't do it. And then, the recent death of his younger son took its toll. And ... "
"And what, Doctor?"
He shrugged again.
"Overexertion ... "
"You mean, possibly, too much sexual activity?"
He placed a pudgy but surprisingly strong hand on her arm.
"Don't blame yourself, Mrs. Carter. You gave him what he wanted. You made his last days on earth happy. No man can ask for better than that." He patted her arm and turned to the door. Helen sank into the nearest chair and tried to cry.
But there were no tears in her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The house sounded cavernous with the servants gone. Helen ran up the huge staircase to the second floor. She could see the door to Danny's room, ajar. She slowed and walked toward it, almost shy now that she was here.
He had his back to the door, and Helen realized with a sudden sinking sensation that he was packing his suitcase.
She stood in the doorway watching him, wishing she could think of a way to break the silence.
Danny turned to get something from the open top drawer of his dresser. He saw her in the mirror.
"Well," he said without turning. "So the conqueror returns."
"Conqueror? What.
"It's all yours now, is it it? The house, the grounds, the whole shittin' mess. You've come a long way in the past few months. I congratulate the world's richest whore."
The insult was lost on her. She could only think of one thing.
"Darling, where are you going?"
"Away. Darling. A long way away."
"But I don't understand. This is still your home."
"Oh, no. It's yours. Lock, stock and swimming pool. Together with all chattels adhering thereto."
"Danny, stop this and tell me where you're going."
He turned away from the suitcases and looked straight at her.
"I don't know, lady. That's the God's truth, I don't know where I'm going. Just so it's a long way from here."
"But what will you do? How will live? You don't get your money until you turn twenty-one."
"I can take care of myself."
"Well, yes, I suppose you can."
"And if I can't I imagine Uncle Sam can."
"Uncle Sam?"
He slammed the lid of the suitcase and snapped it locked loudly.
"I'm going to join the Army."
It was so sudden, so outrageous, Helen let out a small laugh.
"But that's silly," she said. "You don't have to join the Army."
"Well one thing's sure, baby. I can't stay here."
"But why not?"
"I don't think you'd like me to tell you."
"But I want you to tell me."
"All right. I can't stay here because if I do I'll kill you."
There was no bravado in his voice, not even a threat. He said it in the simple tone of a person imparting knowledge. Helen fell back a step as though he had slapped her.
"Danny, that's not fair. What happened to your father was no more my fault than it was yours."
He wheeled on her. His eyes were different from anything she'd ever seen in them.
"Don't say that. Don't tell me that. If you do, I may kill you right now."
"Danny, I love you. The will doesn't make any difference. As far as I'm concerned it's all yours. Everything. Just stay here with me. After a while, when the will has cleared probate, we can go away. Somewhere no one will know us. We can be married. Or not if you prefer. I don't care. Just so we're together."
"Why, Madame, this is so sudden, now, with you in your bereavement and all."
"All right, so it's not nice. But you aren't giving me time for the niceties. I love you, and I want you to stay here."
"You know what fat chance means?"
Helen moved toward him, walking slowly.
"You can't fool me," she said. "I know you want me. As much as I want you. Ever since that night, that first night." She stopped in front of him, so close she could feel the heat from his body. She raised her arms, circled his neck. She raised herself to her tiptoes and kissed him. Danny stood stock still until she was finished, but she could feel his body respond. She stepped back and looked up into his eyes. They were mad looking.
"You want me to screw you?" he asked. His voice was like the click of a cocking pistol.
"Why ... yes, Darling. I ... "
"All right. I'll tell you what. You take your clothes off right now and I'll screw you. I'll do a good job, with all the trimmings. I'll really make you scream with joy. And when I'm through with you, and we've both had all we can handle, I'll kill you. As God is my witness, I'll strangle you."
She took another step back. He continued to look at her, and now his eyes were without expression.
"Do you want me that much?" he asked. "No? All right." He picked up the suitcase. "Then get out of my way."
She stepped aside. Danny brushed past her and down the hall. Helen leaned against the wall. She felt wetnesses on her cheeks, tasted the salt of it. Danny, she thought. Oh, Danny. Somewhere a door slammed. She ran to the window and looked out on the grounds. Her grounds. She saw him throw his suitcase into the back seat of his car, then walk around and get in. The engine roared into life. The gears crashed horribly and the car jerked forward, throwing a fresh hail of gravel with each shift of the gears. In a few seconds it was out of sight.
Helen stumbled across the room to the bed and fell across it. The spread was damp from her tears. How many times had they lain here together? How many times had they made love on this bed?
She knew that she must have fallen asleep, because when she became aware of her surroundings again the slant of the sun through the window was different. She wondered for a moment what had awakened her. Then she heard the steps on the stairway. Even, heavy steps. Man steps.
Danny, she thought. He's come back.
She looked at herself in the bureau mirror. Not too bad. Her suit was a bit wrinkled, but only a bit. She tucked a stray hair into place.
She had to restrain an impulse to take the stairs two at a time. She wondered why he had changed his mind. Well, whatever it was, she would meet his terms. Anything he wanted. She felt buoyant.
He wasn't in the hallway or the living room. The library, she thought. She ran to the door and flung it open.
"Darl-" she stopped. He stood next to the bar with a drink in his hand, looking back at her with a slight smile on his face. Helen's voice came out hard.
"I thought I told you to get out of here and not come back," she said.
Martin walked to the overstuffed chair in the corner and sat in it with the grace of a dancer. He looked thoughtful
"Uh, yes. Yes I believe you did at that."
"Do you want me to call the police?"
"Help yourself, baby. It's your phone?"
Something about his manner made her hesitate.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"A drink to begin with. Then you."
"What?"
"You. You're what I want." He looked at her with an infuriating smile.
"Have you lost your mind?"
"Oh, we'll wait the decent length of time, of course. Maybe a year. Nothing to keep us from visiting during that time. And after your period of mourning is past, we'll just have a quiet little wedding. Nothing ostentatious. Maybe we'll elope."
"Wedding! Now I know you're insane. Just what makes you think I'd marry you?"
"Because you're a woman of means now, my dear. You've just come into a lot of money, and you need someone experienced to help you with it. Otherwise you might loose it. All of it."
"I am going to call the police."
"Go ahead. But before you do, think back. Remember the bequest in your late husband's will? The one leaving you the bulk of the estate? I remember it. Word for word. To Helen Carter, my faithful wife,' it said. Is that you? Were you faithful?"
"Maybe not, but you can't prove it. You might cause me some embarrassment, but you don't have anything that would stand up in a court of law."
"They hell you say." Martin took a small card like object from his shirt pocket. He looked at it with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
"Boy, that sure is pretty," he said, and held it out for her. Helen took it from his hand automatically. When she looked at it her blood turned cold in her veins.
It was one of the pictures Danny had taken of her that night at the cabin. It was one of the most vulgar, showing her full lengh, standing next to Tank. He had one arm across her shoulders, the hand casually resting on her breast. The sight of it made her sick.
"Tear it up if you like," Martin said. "It's only a copy. I've got a lot more of them."
"Where..." She couldn't seem to find words.
"Danny gave them to me," he said. "Just before he left. And a good thing for you, too. I mean with something like that around, you're lucky it's in the hands of the man who is going to be your loving and understanding husband. Just think if they fell into the hands of that Carter crow." He paused, to let the threat sink in. "You'd be out hunting for a teaching job. And you'd probably have some trouble landing one. Now, as I was saying before, just as soon as we're married, I'll want you to sign a power of attorney giving me authority to handle your money for you."
Helen looked at the floor.
"Yes," she said. "All right. Anything you say."
Martin extended his empty glass. "That's right, anything I say, Get me another drink, baby."
"Of course," she took the glass and walked to the bar. She could see the long, gray years stretching out before her. She knew she wouldn't give up the money, even if she had to accept Martin's ownership of her to get it. She knew she would try to get rid of Martin, but with equal certainty she knew that it wouldn't do any good. He was too smart for her, and he had all the cards. Oh Danny, she thought, did you hate me that much?
"Get your ass over here with that drink," Martin barked.
I guess this is the way they do it in the whore houses, Helen thought. No matter how you feel, keep a smile on your face.
"Here you are, Darling," she said, and handed him the drink.
----------------------------
CONFESSIONS OF A BLACK LIBERTINE by D.AA. Warren
1
What would you do if you returned home from work unexpectedly and caught a guy giving it to your wife up her behind?
And just to make things a little bit more exciting, now just suppose that you were a Southern white man and the guy reaming out your wife's rectum was a big black Nigger!
Well, this is the exact situation that confronted Atlanta policeman Joe Tramer one day recently. And while the incident never got into the Atlanta newspapers, I still know all about it. And the reason that I know all about it, is quite simple.
You see, I was the Nigger who was shoving it up Mrs. Tramer's ass-hole when Joe suddenly walked in that day.
And Joe's reaction was easily predictable.
Right away his right hand flew to the ivory handled butt of his service revolver, and as I looked up into the barrel of the deadly snub-nosed .38, my whole life began to flash before my eyes.
And needless to say, the telescopic recapitulation of my life was full of white asses.
Just to name a few, there was the pretty little white ass of Mrs. Christina Miklos, and there was Bobbie Lee's little white ass. And for variety, this parade of voluptuous white asses had the little whitish Oriental ass of Ting Ling Sing. And last, but certainly not the least, there was the pretty little white ass of Mrs. Tramer. Which was the white ass that I was fucking right then and there. Or to be more exact, it was the white ass that I had just stopped fucking right then and there. Because the hole in the barrel of the .38 that patrolman Joe Tramer was holding, made me forget about the hole in Mrs. Tramer's ass pretty damn quick.
When I first met Mrs. Tramer. I was working in the women's shoe department of Bamberger's Department Store in downtown Atlanta. And I wasn't no stock boy either. Mr. Bamberger was a real Equal Opportunity Employer and I was a full-fledged shoe salesman. And although Mr. Bamberger paid me the top dollar for my work, a lot of jealous Niggers in Atlanta accused me of working for free just so I could get the opportunity to "Look up da micro mini-skirts at dem white women's private parts."
And of course, it goes without saying, that I did look. But it was an extra, something like a fringe benefit.
Especially, at Mrs. Tramer's private parts I looked. And her private parts were really something nice to look at too ... she had a big hairy pussy that looked tempting enough to make any man's mouth water. And on more than one occasion, I was on the verge of sticking my head up between her thighs and eating her up right in the store. But being fully aware of what happen to black men who get fresh with white women in the state of Georgia, I played it cool. I didn't make a move towards her until I was dead sure that she wanted to play the game just as bad as I did. And she brought this fact to my attention in several different ways.
First of all, I had never seen a woman buy as many pairs of shoes as Mrs. Tramer did. She was in the store buying a pair of shoes almost every day. And secondly, she always made it a point to ignore the two white salesmen and let me wait on her. And third, after I had waited on her the first two or three times, I noticed that all of a sudden she had stopped wearing drawers. And that's when I made my move. I let her know that I was available for whatever it was that she might have in mind.
When I first sounded her out, she was sitting in my chair with her legs spread apart trying on a pair of red shoes. And I was hungrily looking up her micro mini-skirt at her grinning pussy.
I said, "Mrs. Tramer, I'm pretty handy at fixing broken TV sets and things, so if you've got something that needs fixing, I'll be glad to come over to your house and fix it for you."
You know, whenever white women think of black men in a sexual context, there's an unmistakable erotic gleam that comes into their eyes, and Mrs.
Tramer's pretty little eyes had this peculiar look in double doses.
She eagerly took my lead and said, "What a fortunate coincidence ... why my TV set broke down just this morning. Do you fix color sets, too?"
I said, "Yes, but black and white? ones are my specialty."
And with a knowing smile, she said, "Well, with you, I guess that figures."
We both laughed at the obvious connection, and by the time she had finished buying her shoes, my date with her was all set up.
And when I got off from work that night, I went to the hardware store and bought myself a few things. First, I bought myself a little two-dollar metal tool box. Then I bought a little screwdriver and a great big monkey wrench. I figured that I might need these things in order to Fix Mrs. Tramer's broken TV set. Especially the great big monkey wrench. Next, I bought myself a little black paint brush with a little white handle. And to go along with the paint brush, I also bought a little can of red paint. And when I did get home, I took the paint and the brush and painted the words, "Your Ever Ready TV Man" on the side of the tool box. This was a safety measure, designed to fool Mrs. Tramer's neighbors. I wanted them to think that I was a TV repairman when I knocked on her door the next morning.
And needless to say, the thought of Mrs. Tramer's bushy white pussy kept me awake most of that night. Just thinking about it kept my dick hard all night long and the aching and throbbing of the darn thing hardly let me get a wink of sleep. And the next morning when I got up, I didn't even take time to eat any breakfast I got dressed, grabbed my tool box, and ran straight to the bus stop.
I was on my merry way to get myself another piece of white ass!
2
When Mrs. Tramer answered the door, she was wearing a brightly flowered micro mini-skirt that was hanging up around her ass-hole. If she had had a bashful butt, I am sure that her pretty little white behind would of been red from the embarrassment.
She showed me into the living room and I went straight over to the TV set and said, "Is this the TV set that needs fixing, Mrs. Tramer?"
She answered me by looking at me like I was crazy.
Then she said, "Stop putting me on, now you know damn well that it's not my TV set that I want fixed. The bedroom is upstairs, now come on and follow
Her wish was my command, and I unhesitatingly followed her up into the upstairs bedroom.
And in less time than a minute, she had kicked off her high heeled shoes, slipped out of her micro mini-skirt and was standing in front of me stark naked!
Then she pointed to the pile of things that she had just taken off and said, "Now, you dumb little Nigger, you take yours off and let's get down to business."
Which is exactly what I did after I got undressed. I got down to business.
I got down on my knees and started eating her pussy.
But I couldn't get at her hairy pussy like I wanted to from a kneeling position, so I moved her white ass up onto the bed.
Then I really went to work on her.
Tickling her clitoris with the tip of my tongue and then shifting my attack down to the rim of her sweet little ass-hole. And sticking the tip of my tongue into that precious little opening.
At first, I thought that she might object to this kind of foreplay. But she didn't She just laid there and squirmed about in ecstatic delight Oohing and cooing like a dove. Finally, she couldn't stand it no more.
And she begged me, "Now, please put your dick in me. I want it And I tried, but couldn't!
She was just as tight as a twelve year old virgin.
Why, I couldn't even get all of the head of my big dick into her. And it was obvious to me, that a pussy that tight hadn't been fucked for a very long time. Maybe for as long as even a whole year. . .and maybe even longer. And right away this made me start wondering about a few little things. Little things like why wasn't Mrs. Trainer's husband fucking her? Especially since she was such an attractive and desirable piece of white womanhood. But in any case, one thing was for sure. Mrs. Tramer was one blonde that certainly wasn't having more fun. Certainly not more fucking fun. Which explained why she was in such a hurry to "get down to business," as she called it. She was literally starved for some kind of sexual action.
And sexual action was exactly what I gave her.
For I wouldn't be denied, and in spite of the tightness of her pussy, I finally succeeded in driving my big dick into her. And after two or three shallow thrusts, I socked it into her all the way up to my balls.
And she screamed just like I was killing her.
"Take it out, take it out!" she screamed, "For god's sake, please take it out!"
But I wasn't about to take it out.
And I kept right on ramming it into her with all my might. And just like I knew she would, pretty soon she began to grind away and meet my pile-driving thrusts half way. The excruciating pain had dissolved into .the feeling of pleasure. And when I felt that the moment was right, I stuck my left index finger up her ass-hole and she covered my hand with a flooding orgasm. Me myself, I had already come two or three times already, so I rolled off of her and we rested ourselves up for the next round.
She playfully blew a mouthful of cigarette smoke into my face and said, "Oh, David, what a sweet and brutal fucking you gave me."
And I returned her compliment by saying, "You didn't do too bad yourself ... but your pussy was as tight as the head of a drum"
"Well, what do you expect from a woman who hasn't been fucked in over three years?"
"In over three years?"
"That's right, in over three years. My husband got hurt in Viet Nam and where his prick ought to be, there ain't nothing but a nub. And he can't do nothing with that."
"Then he's fucked up for the rest of his life."
"You can say that again ... but at least he's still got his job, though."
"That's pretty good. By the way, what kind of work does he do?"
"Oh, he's a policeman."
A Policeman!
And a policeman named Tramer!!
like a bolt out of the blue, it suddenly dawned on me just who Mrs. Tramer's husband was.
He was Patrolman Joe Tramer ... one of the toughest head-knockers on the Atlanta police force. Why practically every Nigger in Atlanta, Georgia, knew and feared him. He used to always stand on the corner of Magnolia and Fifth looking tough, standing with his legs spread wide apart and fingering the butt of his holstered pistol. And he was tough too ... make no mistake about that But then again, I guess that any man who can't fuck is bound to be a little bit mean.
And due to this streak of meanness in policeman Joe Tramer, right off the reel I realized that one day I might have to pay a very high price for fooling around with Mrs. Tramer's pussy the way that I was.
Especially so, since this de-pricked cop had let it be known in the black section of Atlanta "that I was one smart Nigger that he was gonna git"
And he made this threat before I started playing around with his wife, too!
3
In order not to get fired from my job at Bamberger's Department Store, I used to always call in sick on the days that I took off to go fuck Mrs. Tramer.
But I was calling in sick with such an increasing regularity, that one day Mr. Bamberger suggested to me that instead of calling in sick, perhaps I would be better off if I went and signed myself in. As a patient in the Atlanta General Hospital.
So in spite of my many efforts to prevent it, my job as a shoe salesman at Bamberger's Department Store was hanging in the balance.
But there was really very little that I could do to alter the situation, since Mrs. Tramer's tight little pussy had such a powerful hold on me that I was constantly seeking it out in order to enjoy its wonderful grip.
And to make matters worse, since I had started fooling around with her, I had suddenly developed and uncontrollable urge to meditate and think about things. Of course, Mrs. Tramer's pussy was the main thing that I thought about, but still it was something to think about. And since my best thinking is always done while I am walking through wide open spaces, wide open spaces like a park for instance, I naturally took a few days off for this purpose, too.
Sometimes, my friend Plakey Martin, would accompany me on these little pastoral jaunts. And while there was a very good reason why people called him Flakey, Flakey wasn't exactly crazy. True enough, he would sometimes overwhelm a person with his ignorance and stupidity, but at the same time Flakey was also capable of demonstrating a fair amount of reasoning ability. like the time we were walking through the park and happened to meet an animal trainer with a great big pet tiger on a leash.
Flakey pointed a dirty and calloused finger at the fearsome looking kitty and said, "Now, David, you're always talking about eating pussy, now there's one pussy will eat you if you fuck wid him."
Well, I couldn't argue with logic like that, especially so, if the animal trainer was the type of fellow who occasionally forgot to feed his pussy.
But with or without the mental stimulus provided by Flakey's company, my thoughts usually centered around Mrs. Tramer during my excursions into Atlanta's sprawling Municipal Park. She was such a dominating force, that only occasionally did the grim specter of her husband creep into my mind and spoil things. And oddly enough, it was on a Friday the Thirteenth that Patrolman Joe Tramer caught me and Mrs. Tramer in the Tramer bedroom.
Now, ordinarily, I am not a superstitious person. But on this particular Friday the Thirteenth, I must admit that I was just a little bit apprehensive.
And why was I apprehensive on this particular Friday the Thirteenth?
Well, to tell you the truth, I guess it was largely due to a big black Tom cat who was sitting right under my bedroom window. He was the first thing that I seen that day. And although it was almost ten o'clock in the morning, this big black Tom was sitting on the back fence mewing and yowling like it was in the middle of the night
And when I left the house, this little black bastard had the nerve to run out of the back alley and dart straight across my path.
Jinxing me sure as hell!
But still, I didn't worry too much about the old black Tom, because I was in too much of a hurry to get to my little white pussy.
And just as soon as I got to it I kissed it!
But not for the purpose of satisfying any erotic desire on my part. But for the sole purpose of breaking the jinx that the old black Tom had put on me.
You see, there is an old superstition among Georgia black folks that says that the only way that you can break the spell caused by a black Tom cat crossing your path on Friday the Thirteenth is by kissing a white pussy. Now whether or not they mean the two-legged kind or the four-legged kind, is something that I don't know. But due to the great danger involved in a black man asking a white woman to let him kiss her pussy in the state of Georgia, I am almost certain that they mean the four-legged kind.
In any case, I didn't take any chances. After I had finished kissing the little white pussy between Mrs. Tramer's legs, I then went over and kissed her little white pussy cat, too.
And after I had dispensed with the kissing of the pussies, we then really started to have ourselves some fun.
And right away, Mrs. Tramer started complaining that my dick was too big for her.
She said, " I never had too much trouble before, but today you're so big that I can barely get the head of it into my mouth."
And Mrs. Tramer was right about the size of my prick on this particular Friday the Thirteenth. For some reason, it had swollen to enormous proportions, and was much bigger than it usually was. I guess it was due to my intense desire for her ... a mad craving for her soft white body which was much stronger than it had ever been before.
We were in the classic "69" position, with her kneeling over me with her head to my feet, and with her firm white buttocks hanging right in my face I was almost going out of my mind. And while she was having a little bit of trouble getting the head of my big dick into her mouth, I wasn't having no trouble at all in eating up her bushy pussy. I gobbled it and I slurped it, just like a starving man who hadn't eaten for forty days and forty nights. And all the time she was nibbling on the head of my dick like a demon. Trying to get it into her mouth and sticking the tip of her tongue into the eye of it
And three times, in rapid succession, I shot a load into her mouth.
But her tight little ass-hole is what I really wanted, and that is what I went after next.
And for the ass-hole fucking, Mrs. Tramer kneeled sideways across the bed and let her ass hand over the edge of it. And for me, I stood up with both my feet planted firmly on the floor, hoping that this position would afford me a better angle of attack.
But I still had trouble getting it into her.
And I said, "You're fighting me, baby, relax your ass-hole like you do when you take a shit."
She relaxed her rectum and I grabbed her around the small of her hips and succeeded in ramming it into her.
And her little ass-hole was so tight that I couldn't go all the way in on the first three tries, but the fourth time, I socked it into her all the way up to the root.
My balls slapped up against her ass and she screamed loud enough to wake up the dead. Ah-eeeeeeah!
And for some unexplainable reason, I don't know what, I happened to look around and there he stood.
Patrolman Joe Tramer right in person!
Neither I nor Mrs. Tramer had heard him unlock the downstairs door and climb the bedroom stairs. Evidently, Mrs. Tramer's screaming had prevented us from hearing him.
But there he was though, make no mistake about that.
And I was so god damned scared that I just froze. With my dick still stuck up Mrs. Tramer's ass.
Finally, I managed to mumble, "No, It can't be you, Mr. Tramer. No, it just can't be."
And that's when Mrs. Tramer became of her husband's deadly presence.
She looked around and froze into position just like I was.
A frozen tableau in adultery.
Patrolman Tramer drew his snub-nosed .38 service revolver and said, "Now don't move ... neither one of you!"
And just how we managed to do it, I don't know, but neither me nor Mrs. Tramer moved a muscle.
And Mr. Tramer just stood there looking and holding the gun on us. Any second I expected him to pull the trigger ... but he didn't.
He just stood there looking and holding the gun. With the seconds ticking away....
Five.-
Ten.-
Fifteen.-
Twenty.-
Then he spoke.
He said, "Please keep on doing what you were doing ... I'm not going to hurt either one of you. I just want to watch you. It's the first sexual satisfaction that I've had since I got hurt in Viet Nam. Please, keep on doing it."
Please, keep oh doing it
Him saying that, and me with my prick stuck up his wife's ass!
It was the most incredible thing that I'd ever heard.
4
Besides the undeniable fact that both of us were black, me and Flakey Martin had something else in common. Both of us made our living by dealing in shoes. I sold them and Flakey shined them.
But in spite of the fact that he was just a lowly shoe-shine boy, Flakey still considered himself an integral part of the great American Dream. And he was always bragging that while I had to work for somebody else, that he was smart enough to own his own business. And he did, too.
He inherited it from his father.
When Flakey's father died, he left his shoe-shine box to Flakey. And this was the business that Flakey was always bragging about owning.
And at this point, I want to say a word or two about how Flakey ran his business. Flakey's bask policy of operation was one of out-right discrimination. When he was on his way downtown, Flakey never stopped to shine the shoes of another Nigger. Instead, he hauled his black ass straight to downtown Atlanta to where the white folks and the money was. And Flakey justified his unfair practices by claiming that tips from Niggers were either small or no tips at all. But I didn't let the way that Flakey run his business interfere with my friendship for him. I understood and considered him to be a real "Soul Brother."
Nevertheless, though, our relations did grow a little bit strained.
He accused me of trying to put him down.
One night I walked into the Ebony Lounge and he said to me, "What's the matter, Dave? I waited for you for more than an hour last night. Now you know that we always go and shoot pool on Wednesday nights."
And just why Flakey liked to shoot pool with me is something that I never figured out. Because I used to always beat the little black bastard at it. As a matt-er-of-fact, he was at the very top of my sucker list as a guaranteed source of extra pocket money.
So I lied to him and said, "I'm sorry about last night, but I was home sick in bed."
And that's what made him lose his cool.
With blood in his eye, he said, "Now don't you lie to me, Nigger. You wasn't none home sick in bed last night, because I saw you go get on the bus about eight or eight-thirty."
Now it was a small thing, really. But sometimes small things can easily develop into big things, like a woman with a little belly when she gets pregnant, so rather than run the risk of creating a scene, I Just turned away from the bar and walked out of the Ebony Lounge.
And Flakey honored after me, "You're a no good Nigger, Dave. New friends make you forget your old ones."
And he had hit the nail right on the head!
For the truth of the matter was that I had gone to see Mr. and Mrs. Tramer.
By now, our little three-cornered relationship was on a mutual basis and I bad taken a little present to Mr. Tramer.
The little present was an artificial dick.
It was made of a soft plastic material, and it looked Just like a real dick. It was hollow on the inside and a person like Mr. Tramer could strap it on and put the nub of his prick inside it and achieve some sort of sexual satisfaction with his wife or somebody. Of course, for Mr. Tramer, the satisfaction would be chiefly in his head. But for Mrs. Tramer herself, with warm milk inside the artificial penis to simulate a man's orgasm, the satisfaction would be almost like the real thing. And he vigorously protested, "Take that damn thing away from me, all I want to do is watch you fuck my wife."
But to tell you the truth, I was beginning to get a little bit tired of letting him watch me, and now I wanted to watch him in action.
So I didn't give up easy.
I held the plastic penis out to him and said, "Now, Mr. Tramer, if you don't take this plastic penis and fuck your wife, I'm going to take my real dick and fuck you!"
And just to prove that I meant what I said, I opened up the fly of my pants and let my big black thing hang out
It was a fearsome looking sight
And Mr. Tramer took one look at the colossal size of it and said, "Hell, no! Now that is definitely out of the question."
And that was alright with me, because I already had another alternative ready for him.
I said, "Okay then, if that's the way you feel, we'll let your wife do it to you, then."
But he only laughed at me and said, "Don't be silly, now who in the hell ever heard of a man's wife fucking him up the ass?"
"Well, there's a first time for everything," I said, "And with this contraption strapped around her waist I think that your wife wUl be able to do a pretty good job on you."
"Well, maybe so. But ... "
"Yes, that's it your butt Drop your pants and raise it into the air."
"Should l. really?"
"Why of course you should! By all means go right ahead and do i."
"Oh, well, alright"
"Very good, Mr. Tramer. And you, Mrs. Tramer, strap this thing around your waist and get ready to go to work on him. Hurry now. hop to it!"
And with a rare opportunity to fuck her husband up the ass, Mrs. Tramer didn't lose no time in hopping to it In practically no time at all, she was into the harness and ready for action.
And since she had cooperated in such a wonderful fashion, I offered her a little bonus.
I said, "Now while you are piling it into your husband's ass, I will be doing the same thing to you.
The three of us will work together."
This suggestion really delighted Mrs. Tramer, and she bent to her task with a vengeance.
But the artificial prick wouldn't penetrate Mr. Tramer's tight little ass-hole.
"Try a little vaseline," I suggested.
"It's in the bathroom, you go and get ft."
I went and fetched the vaseline.
And Mrs. Tramer lubricated the head and shaft of the artificial penis with a few dabs of it and started banging away.
Straight in and straight out
And the walls of the Tramer bedroom echoed with a scream the-likes of which I'd never heard before.
Mrs. Tramer had succeeded in penetrating her husband's anal opening!
But this breakthrough did not stop the screaming.
Another blood-curdling scream immediately followed it
And this time, it was Mrs. Tramer herself who did the screaming.
For I had just rammed my big dick up into her ass-hole.
And the orgy had begun.
I was socking it to Mrs. Tramer, and she was piling it into her husband's ass-hole. And so that none of us would feel cheated, we had positioned ourselves so that all three of us could view the action in a full-length mirror.
A good time was had by all
But Mr. Tramer still wasn't satisfied.
After the sodomizing was over, he still insisted on watching me fuck his wife the regular way.
And of course, I couldn't disappoint him.
But instead of watching us from the bedroom closet, like he usually did, this time Mr. Tramer wanted to go outside and peep in at us through the bedroom window. And since the bedroom was on the second floor, the only way that he could do this was by using a ladder. Which was something that both me and Mrs. Tramer considered dangerous for him to do. Because it was at night and some of the neighbors might mistake him for a burglar or something. Me and Mrs. Tramer tried to talk him out of it, but it wasn't no use.
He got dressed, got himself a ladder, and set himself up at the bedroom window.
And he didn't even take the precaution of putting on dark clothes. Believe it or not, he had on a white shirt
He was really asking for it and he got it even before me and Mrs. Tramer could get started.
First there was the twin blasting of a double-barreled shotgun.
Then, there was Mr. Tramer's sudden scream of pain.
And next, me and Mrs. Tramer heard the awful sound of Mr. Tramer falling off the ladder at the bedroom window.
But even at that it didn't turn out too badly, though. Because Mr. Tramer's neighbor was a very lousy shot
And all Mr. Tramer suffered was a few buckshot pellets in his fat behind and a bonus injury of a broken leg.
5
While Mr. Tramer was laying up in the Atlanta General Hospital recuperating from his butt full of buckshot and broken leg, he decided to leave the city of Atlanta and move up north. Not a true up north. North, but up north to the state of North Carolina. Where he had some kind of a farm.
And since the departure of the Trainers from the city of Atlanta would break up our little triangle, Mr. Tramer offered me the opportunity to come along with them in the capacity of the farm's handyman.
I carefully weighed the pros and cons of the thing, and decided to accept his generous offer, with Mrs. Tramer's pussy being the deciding factor.
So about one day later, I arrived up at the Tramer farm. Which was situated about five miles outside of the little town of Boogaloo in North Carolina.
And as always, the Tramers were glad to see me. So after supper that night, Mr. Tramer suggested that the three of us should do something to celebrate my safe arrival.
And we did do something.
I fucked Mrs. Tramer while Mr. Tramer watched me do it And after the show was over, the three of us retired for the night.
And since darkness had prevented me from looking the place over when I first arrived, bright and early the next morning I got up and gave it the once over. And the first thing that I noticed about Mr. Tramer's farm was the total lack of things that one usually associates with a farm. There wasn't any cows and bulls, no humpty-backed camels, and not one unicorn did I see. And in the fields where the crops ought to be, there wasn't nothing but weeds.
And getting back to the farm animals, the only animal that I saw running around the place was a big black boy dog that Mrs. Tramer called Duke.
Big, black, and nasty, that was Duke.
He tried to bite my leg off just as soon as he laid eyes on me.
And that wasn't all that I had against Duke, either. I also didn't like the way that he kept sniffing up Mrs. Tramer's dress and getting a hard on. I was suspicious of him ... especially since Mrs. Tramer didn't do anything to make him stop sniffing up her dress. In fact, in a sneaky sort of way, she seemed to encourage it
After I had finished inspecting the place, I asked Mr. Tramer just how he expected to make a living from it without any cows and mutes and things.
"Oh, don't you worry none about that," he said, "I've got most of this place rented out and it's a good money maker, too. Good enough to let me quit my job as a policeman."
I just shook my head and wondered.
Because any damn fool knows that regardless of whether or not a farm is rented out, that either the owner or the people who rent it, must grow something on it in order to make any money from the place. And since I didn't see nothing but weeds and threes growing on Mr. Tramer's farm, I figured that there had to be more on it than met the naked eye.
My curiosity was aroused and I immediately set about to satisfy it
There was a foot-path which led from behind the empty Tramer barn and ran down into a little thicket
I followed it
And the path ran for a couple hundred yards or so and led to a huge pile of rubbish. Then it stopped. And this indicated to me that the purpose of the foot-path was just to provide an access route to this makeshift dump.
But I did not turn back.
I probed deeper and deeper into the thicket and pertty soon it wasn't no thicket no more.
It was a full-grown woods.
And still, I did not turn back
But with the aromatic smell of the wild flowers tickling my nostrils, I plunged on.
Then I was suddenly stopped cold!
Right in front of me was a barbed wire fence about ten feet high.
The strands of barbed wire were spaced about six inches apart, and as I soon discovered, alternate strands of the wire were electrified. That is, for about a minute or so, strands number one and three were charged. Then, during the next cycle, strands number two and four were charged and so on. And as a deterrent to trespassers, this changing electrification pattern had the very same effect as having every single strand of wire in the ten-foot high fence electrified. It was a very effective way to keep people out, and at the same time you only used half as much electricity to do it.
And to me, such an elaborate barrier could only mean one thing. Somebody didn't want no snoopers to see what was on the other side of that fence.
And now, I was more determined than ever to see what it was.
I looked about to see if there was a nearby tree that I could climb and swing down on the other side from one of its branches. Just like Tarzan exact, there wasn't no such branches on the trees. In every case where such branches had once existed, they had been neatly chopped off. For the express purpose of preventing a person from using them as a means of crossing over to the other side of the electrified fence.
And since going over the fence seemed just about impossible, I contemplated going under it.
But this solution created another problem.
Because it meant that I would have to do some digging, and I didn't have nothing to dig with.
Except my bare hands.
But they say, where there's will there's always a way. And the way for me led straight back to the pile of rubbish at the end of the foot-path which ran from in back of the Tramer barn.
Laying at the edge of the pile of rubbish, there was an old shovel with part of its handle broken off. I remembered seeing it laying there when I passed the rubbish pile on my way into the woods.
So I quickly backtracked, got the shovel, returned to the fence and went to work.
And in practically no time at all, I had dug myself a little slit-trench which permitted me to slide under the fence without getting myself electrocuted.
Then, after I was safety on the other side of the fence, I hid the shovel behind a clump of bushes and took off into the woods again. With all sorts of thoughts running through my head. Thoughts like I might run into a gang of moonshiners cooking up a batch of North Carolina mountain dew.
But this thought was quickly dispelled from my over-active mind. Because what I run into definitely wasn't no moonshiner.
She was picking blueberries and just as naked as a jaybird!
And while most of her body was tanned to a nice golden brown, she had a patch of whiteness on her bare ass that made her look just like a Bunny girl in a Playboy club. The patch of whiteness was the outline left by a bikini that she had been wearing while sun tanning herself.
And just as I got ready to move in on her, somebody started calling.
"Hey, Cotton Tail, how many have you got?"
"Enough to make a blueberry pie?"
And then they hove into view.
A blonde and a redhead ... and both of them stark naked.
I felt just like Adam in the Garden of Eden. An
Adam with three Eves ... and no fig leaves to fuck things up. It was a supreme scene, and I made it by coming out from behind the bushes and exposing myself.
And except for a very stiff dick, I was completely at ease in the presence of the two lovely little naked creatures.
And I didn't lose no time in letting them know what was on my mind, I said, "Why hello there, girls, it's a lovely day, isn't it"
But the two naked girls completely ignored my friendly greeting and started calling to their friend, Cotton Tail.
The naked redhead hollered, "Hey, Cotton Tail, we've got a man back here!"
And her blonde friend chimed in, "And do you know what? He's a Spade!"
"That's good," answered Cotton Tail "The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juke. I'll be right there in a minute."
And Cotton Tail come running to join her two friends. And as she ran, blueberries were jumping up out of her little tin pail like Mexican jumping beans.
And when she first saw me, the first thing that Cotton Tail did was to look down at the fly of my pants. And when she sow the big bulge that my stiff dick was making, she exchanged a knowing glance with the other two girls and the whole bunch of them started to giggle like little school girls.
Finally, the redhead said, "He must work for Mama Bare."
Then Cotton Tail asked, "Do you work for Mama Bare?"
And since I had never even heard of anybody called Mama Bare, I told her, "No."
And to this, Cotton Tail replied, "Then you're trespassing, because this is posted property. Now, we'll have to capture you and take you back to Mama Bare."
I didn't argue the point.
And the redhead volunteered, "I'll look around and see if I can't find some vines or something to tie up his hands with."
But Cotton Tail thought of a better idea.
She wagged a finger at my throbbing dick and said, "I think we'll be a whole lot safer if we find some vines and tie that up."
And the other little blonde giggled and said, "Let's make him take it out so we can see how big it is."
Then all three of them got a case of the galloping giggles.
And Cotton Tail finally broke the spell by saying, "No, we really don't have to tie you up, but you do have to come with us though."
Then the three of them marched me off into the woods and through the trees.
And after about ten or fifteen minutes of forced marching, we come out to a big clearing. And in it, there was some kind of a resort settlement or something. Something that looked like only the rich could afford it. There was a swimming pool, a volley ball court, and a number of log-cabin type cottages. But these log cabins weren't the kind that Abraham Lincoln lived in. These log cabins were modern structures with running water and inside plumbing. This was immediately discernible. And in front of one of the buildings, the biggest one of all, there was a sign.
The sign read: Mama Bare's Nudist Colony-
Women Only.
And right away I spotted three contradictions to the Women Only part of the sign. They were on the volley ball court playing volley ball. Playing volley ball with several naked women. And it was obvious that none of the women were their mothers. Since none of the women looked that old, and none of the men looked that young.
The three men all appeared to be in their mid-twenties, with one possibly in his late twenties or early thirties. And without exception, each one of them was built like a football player and hung like a stallion. One of them even had a dick almost as big as mine, at least it was almost as big as mine in a semi-hard state. And his was in a semi-hard state, due to its flopping about while he was playing volley balL
And to me, it didn't seem-likely that three men with dicks that big could get together just by accident. Instead, it seemed to me that they had been highly selected and brought together for a specific purpose.
And since they were in a nudist colony for women only, I started wondering just what the specific purpose might be.
6
If it had not been for the fact that I was Mr. and Mrs. Tramer's handyman, I don't know what my fate in Mama Bare's Nudist Colony might have been. But just as soon as I made this fact known to her, Mama Bare immediately gave me a clean bill of health. Explaining that she rented the place from Mr. and Mrs. Tramer, and that anybody who was alright with them, was alright with her, too.
So, in spite of the fact that I was a Nigger, I was acceptable to Mama Bare.
But still, Mama Bare didn't let me off the hook scott-free.
She said, "For barging in here the way that you did, we're gonna put you up on the block." And with that said, I was led off to the block.
The tree muscular young men with the big dicks acted as my personal escort. One flanked me on either side, and one walked directly in back of me. And the procession was rounded out by fifteen or twenty of Mama Bare's naked guests tagging along. And while I didn't have the slightest idea of what was going to happen to me, I soon found out.
I was put up on the block and told to take my clothes off!!
And of course, I balked.
And Mama Bare put her pretty little white hands on her ample hips and said, "If we have to use force to take your clothes off, then you'll have to run the gamut after we strip you. And while you're running down the line, we'll whack your bare butt with all kinds of switches and sticks and things."
But I wasn't intimidated, I still hesitated.
And in response to my hesitation, the three bruisers with the big dick started moving towards me. And I didn't hesitate no more.
Right away I took off my shoes and socks.
Then I found myself in a most difficult quandary trying to figure out what to take off next.
And one of the impatient women in the audience offered me some advice.
She said, "Take 'em all off!"
So in order to make her happy, I slipped out of my shirt. Then I rued the day that I stopped wearing undershirts. Because the next thing that was due to fall was my pants.
But what fell next, wasn't my pants.
It was my dick.
When I first started undressing, it was in a reasonable state of hardness. But with each piece of clothes that I took off, it got softer and softer. And now it was just as limp as a wet dish rag. And my confidence went right along with my erection.
Now, I was really nervous.
And of course, I know that there are some people who might think that with me being a Nigger that I should of been just as happy as a rabbit in a briar patch with all of them bushy white pussies looking me in the face. Well, I wasn't I was just plain nervous. In fact, I was so nervous and excited that I had taken off both my pants and undershorts before I realized that they were off.
I honestly didn't realize that I was standing there on the block stark naked until I heard the oohs and aahs coming from Mama Bare and her naked guests. And this oohing and aahing of Mama Bare and her naked clients indicated that they liked what they saw, and this favorable reaction on their part gave me back a measure of my confidence.
My dick started to get hard again!
And on a sudden impulse, I decided to give the girls a show.
First, I stood there facing them and expanded my chest a few times.
Then, I whipped around sideways and gave them a full-length profile of my naked body.
Next, I turned my back to them and flexed the rippling muscles of my big black back.
And when I turned around to face them again, my prick was standing out in all its crowning glory. Its head glistened in the noonday sun, and I am sure that none of those women had ever the pleasure of feasting their eyes on a bigger one. And without shame, they lustfully ogled it
Even the three big-dicked bruisers from the volley ball court cast a few envious glances in its direction.
Yes, my little impromptu act of showmanship had carried the day.
And as a gesture of their appreciation, the naked women pressed in around the wooden block that I was standing on and broke into a round of roaring applause. Indeed, one or two of them were so demonstrative in their appreciation, that it appeared that they might try to rape me. And it was at this moment that Mama Bare wisely broke through the throng of frantic women and grabbed me by the hand and led me away.
She took me into her office.
And after we got into her office she led me into the washroom and straight over to the sink.
Then she started milking my dick just like a farm girl pulling on the tit of a cow.
"I'm a hardnosed Yankee business-woman," she said, "And I want to see how many times you can get it up."
I didn't say a word, I just stood there with a sly grin on my face and enjoyed every stroke.
And this prompted her to say, "Why, you little black rascal, you like it, don't you?"
'Well, I'm not exactly averse to it," I answered her.
And she smiled and repeated the word "averse" and said, "Why that's a pretty big word for a Nigger to use. You sound half way educated, and that's exactly the kind of Spade that I'm looking for. One that's intelligent enough to be discreet. Those three white boys that you saw out there are all college fellas."
Boom!
I shot the first load into the sink. And she kept right on jerking me off. Not missing a stroke. With the rhythmic motion of her arm making her bare, white titties jiggle up and down.
And she didn't even stop after I had unloaded the second time.
She kept right on skinning my weenie and I honestly thought that my dick was going to explode right in her hand. Its veins were standing out like they were ready to pop, and when I unloaded the third time, I was almost certain that something was going to go.
And something did go.
It was her.
She said, "My arm got tired before your dick did, so I guess you'll do. Here, take tins towel and clean yourself off, then come over to my desk and I'll explain things to you."
And after the workout that she had just given me, it is needless to say that I didn't lose no time in cleaning myself and going over to Mama Bare's desk.
She offered me a cigarette and then leaned back in her chair and started talking.
She said, "Well, David, there are some women who seem to think that fucking is a whole lot better than laying on a psychiatrist's couch. And instead of paying to have their heads shrunk, these women are willing to pay to have their cunts fucked. A sort of therapeutic treatment, so to speak. And for a fee, I provide that service for the women that I've got here. Now, that's where you come in. Recently, some of the women have been asking for the services of a black man."
It was a fantastic proposition, here I was on the very threshold of getting paid to fuck white women! And all my life I had thought that fucking was something that Black men paid white women for.
And while I was black, willing, and able, I still didn't intend to sell myself cheap. So I played it cool.
I said, "It sounds very interesting, but how much Is it going to be worth to me in dollars and cents?"
Now, dollars and cents was Mama Bare's life blood, and she wasn't about to let a guaranteed money-maker like me slip through her fat little fingers.
And thinking that I might withhold my services unless the price was right, she said, "They'll pay you more than enough, and if you fuck 'em right, they might even give you a big fat tip. Why most of these bitches are filthy rich, they're mostly professional people. Singers, dancers, actresses, and the wives of rich men. People like that. So don't you worry none about the money."
"But, Mama Bare, I am worrying about it," I said, "Can't you be a little bit more specific about the dollars and cents? like quoting me some figures or something?"
"Well," she said, "I charge them fifty dollars for a treatment. That's thirty for me, and twenty for you.
No, I didn't like her figures.
And I said, "Mama Bare, it's no good unless we split it down the middle, fifty-fifty."
And now she didn't like mine ... and she got mad.
She snapped at me, "Now listen to me, you fucking Nigger, like I told you before, I'm a hardnosed Yankee business-woman. And it's thirty for me and twenty for you. Now you take it or leave it!"
Of course, I took it. I had no other choice.
And after I had agreed to her skin-flint proposition, she gave me a set of keys and said, "Come back around nine tonight, and go to Cabin 69. Your first customer will be waiting for you there."
But the joke was still on Mama Bare, because If she had presented her case right, she could easily have got me to work for nothing.
7
Just like any other mortal man, I have both my good points and my bad points. And one of my bad points is the chronic habit of being late for work.
Even my job as a stud at Mama Bare's Nudist Colony failed to break this tardiness pattern.
I was late for work the very first night.
And when I did arrive, my first customer was already in Cabin 69 and waiting.
It was Cotton Tail.
And she looked at her watch and playfully pouted, "You stood me up, it's three minutes past nine already."
Which meant that I was three minutes late. And since Cotton Tail was an obvious believer in the old adage, one shouldn't waste time, she had used the three minutes by getting herself undressed.
That is, she was undressed if you didn't count the wrist watch and high-voltage perfume that she had on. And as bedroom bait, her perfume was a worthy rival of her pretty little pussy. And here, I am not using the phrase "pretty little pussy" as a mere figure of speech. It was an actuality.
For Cotton Tail's pussy was really pretty. The pretty little closed kind.
Its lips were close together, and the clitoris did not protrude like it does on ugly pussies. And the hair around it was just a few shades darker than the blonde hair on her head, and not too thick. But just bushy enough to provide its well-formed lips with a slight touch of mystery and concealment.
Hers was a pussy that looked too pretty to fuck ... and that's exactly what she thought, too.
She didn't want me to fuck it, she wanted me to suck it!
At first, I thought that she just wanted me to suck it as part of the preliminary operation. But no, that wasn't it at all. She just wanted a straight sucking job.
My balls were already burning just from looking at her naked white body and sniffing the erotic smelling perfume that she had on. so I wasn't in no mood to waste time by sucking. I wanted to start fucking, so I piled on top of her and started pressing the head of my prick against the lips of her pussy.
And right away she threw up her defenses.
She closed her thighs and pushed the palms of her hands hard up against my chest and said, "Now just what in the hell are you trying to do?"
"Fuck you, that's what I'm trying to do."
"Trying to fuck me? Don't be ridiculous."
"Don't be ridiculous? For Christ sake, that's what you're paying me to do, isn't it?"
"No, that's not what I'm paying you to do. I'm paying you to suck me, not fuck me!"
"Then what in the hell's the matter, don't you like to get fucked?"
"No I don't, sucking's better. At least for me, it is. I'm a nude model, and I can't afford to have my pussy all torn up by somebody's great big dick. It would ruin my career, you know. The ugliest sight in the world is a pretty nude model with an ugly pussy. And some of the girls lose jobs because of it, too. Their whole beauty is ruined by pussies that have been fucked all out of shape."
"Well, one thing is for sure, yours certainly won't be. And I can't say that I much blame you, because your pussy is really the prettiest one that I've ever seen."
"Thank you, and now start doing your job."
"Okay, but first put this pillow underneath your ass."
The pillow raised her ass to just the right angle to afford me an easy access to both her pussy and her ass-hole. And I started devouring her. First, smothering the insides of her smooth white thighs with hot and passionate kisses. And then lustfully licking her ass-hole and then gently tickling her clitoris with the very tip of my tongue. And spreading the action around by slowly running my tongue along the lips of her pussy right down to the rim of her rectum. And sliding my tongue back to her pussy again.
Then I stopped playing around with her pussy, and just concentrated on her ass-hole.
And she started moaning a little bit louder and began to swosh her ass around.
I tightened my grip around her hips, and stiffened my tongue to its hardest degree and stuck it all the way up into her ass-hole!
And my body tensed as a steady stream of come started pouring out of the head of my dick.
I was completely carried away!
So much so, that I momentarily lost control of myself and started biting her.
I was literally eating her up.
And in order to save herself from being eaten alive, she raised her ass and violently smacked me right in the face with her pussy. Knocking my face up and away from her private parts.
But not before a few of my teeth had punctured the delicate white skin of her right buttock.
I had the taste of blood in my mouth!
And I also noticed that she had climaxed too.
The juice from her burning pussy had dripped down between her crotch and fromed into a little puddle on the bedsheet.
After I had calmed down, I went right back to working her over again.
From her clitoris to her ass-hole, and from her ass-hole to her clitoris.
It was getting to be monotonous, but not without purpose.
My intention was to inflame her to such a high degree that she would beg me to do the other thing. In spite of the fact that she didn't want to get that pretty little pussy of hers all messed up.
And pretty soon she was begging me to sock it to her, too.
She said, "Please, Dave, put it in. Put it all the way in."
And while I had every intention of putting it all the way into her, before I did so, I had a little chore that I wanted her to do for me.
So I withdrew my tongue from her ass-hole and surprised her by flopping over on my back.
My pulsing dick was pointing straight up at the ceiling.
And I said to her, "Now it's your turn." And this turn of events seemed to puzzle her. And she asked me, "My turn for what."
"Your turn to suck me!"
At first, she refused to do it And it was only after I had thoroughly explained the virtues of fair play to her, that she agreed to give it a try.
Awkwardly at first, but with increasing finesse as she quickly got the knack of it.
Riding her head up and down on the shaft of my prick, and then letting the tip of her tongue linger momentarily around the head of it.
For a novice, it was a remarkable exhibition of sucking a dick. I know some old pros who couldn't of done nearly as well. And for such a great maiden effort, I duly rewarded her.
I baptized her tonsils with a jet stream of hot semen.
And then I done what she was begging me to do.
I rammed my great big dick into her pretty little pussy and broke her maidenhead!
And after we had finished, the proof of her virginity was written in blood on the bedsheet.
She wasn't no virgin no more.
And her hymen wasn't the only thing about her that had been broken that night, so had the skin on her right buttock. And when she got ready to leave, I became concerned about the marks that my teeth had made on the right side of her ass. Especially the ones where the skin was broken.
And pointing to the bite marks, I said to her, "Suppose somebody starts to ask embarrassing questions about that?"
Her answer was very brief and straight to the point
She said, "Oh, I'll just put a band aid on it and ten 'em that I sat on a tack."
Then, I opened the door for her, and kind of wide legged and wobbly, she walked out of Cabin 69.
8
Now, while I will freely admit that my job out at Mama Bare's Nudist Colony was by far the best job that I had ever had, I must also admit with equal truthfulness that this fact did not make me forget the old saying that "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
And above all things, I did not want to become known as a dull boy.
So in order to break my routine of playing around with white women for pay, in my spare time I went into the nearby town of Boogaloo and played around with the little colored girls for free.
And play around with them, is exactly what I did.
Sometimes we played hopscotch, and sometimes we played tiddlywinks. And when we really felt sexy, we let our hair down and played post office!
Nope, I didn't fuck 'em judge, I just played around with 'em
Of course, with me being a total stranger and all, before the local Niggers of Boogaloo would accept me into their social circles, I had to start at the bottom of the ladder and work my way up.
And since this was the case, I figured that the Nigger cemetery in Boogaloo was a very good place for me to start. Since the Niggers in the cemetery was at the very bottom of Boogaloo's social life. As a matt-er-of-fact, they were just about six feet under it. And as a result of my decision to use the Boogaloo cemetery as the launching pad for my social life, I come across and old Negro gentleman called Old Man Mose.
Old Man Mose was the caretaker of the cemetery.
And I met him one day while I was sitting on one of his tomb-stones eating my baloney sandwich and drinking my red strawberry soda water.
Now ordinarily, I am not addicted to eating baloney sandwiches and drinking red strawberry soda water. But due to the fact that Boogaloo did not have a restaurant for Colored people, I was forced to fortify myself with these comestibles. And a restaurant for Colored people wasn't the only thing that Boogaloo didn't have.
It didn't have a restaurant for white people, wasn't the only thing that Boogaloo didn't have.
It didn't have a restaurant for white people, either!
But true indeed is the old axiom that it is an ill-wind that blows nobody no good. And Boogaloo's lack of adequate eating facilities was a direct boon to one J. Mortimer Scuttlebutt, Jr.
You see, Mr. Scuttlebutt was the lone proprietor of Scuttlebutt's General Store, and Scuttlebutt's General Store was the place that sold the baloney sandwiches. And since there wasn't no restaurant In Boogaloo to compete with him, Mr. Scuttlebutt sold and awful lot of baloney sandwiches.
In fact, Mr. Scuttlebutt sold so many baloney sandwiches that he was able to buy himself a brand new Lincoln Continental every year. And since Lincoln Continentals are pretty expensive little cars, one might very easily get the idea that Mr. Scuttlebutt's baloney operation wasn't exactly on the up and up.
And it wasn't, either!
But nobody but the good citizens of Boogaloo themselves were to blame for this sad state of affairs.
They were the ones who had voted Mr. Scuttlebutt into office. Fooled by his glib pie-in-the-sky campaign promise of "A" Chicken in Every Pot."
Of course, just as soon as the votes were counted, Mr. Scuttlebutt promptly forgot all about his campaign promise. And instead of giving the people of Boogaloo a chicken in every pot, what he gave them was a baloney sandwich in every hungry little hand. Providing, of course, that they had the thirty cents and change to pay for it
And for Mr. Scuttlebutt this economic sleight of hand was very easy.
Since the people of Boogaloo had elected him the town's official Business Manager, he had a perfectly legal right to mind everybody else's business just as well as his own. And with one stroke of his official pen, he simply closed down all of Boogaloo's eating places. Thus, leaving the field wide open for his baloney sandwiches and red strawberry soda water to wash them down with.
And that is exactly what I was doing when I first met Old Man Mose.
I was sitting on a tombstone demolishing a Scuttlebutt Special when Old Man Mose strode up to me and said, "Boy, now you gitch yo black ass up offa dat tombstone eatin dat baloney sandwich and drinkin dat red strawberry sody wahter. What's da matter, ain't you got no respect fer the dead?"
"I'm sorry sir, I really didn't mean to be offensive to the dear departed ones."
"Now all dat imagine talk ain't gonna gitch you nowhere. Boy, do you know what? You is crazy, dat's what you is. If you had any sense, you'd be up dere in Lincoln Park sittin on a box eatin dat baloney sandwich and drinkin dat red strawberry sody wahter. Dat's what everybody else duz."
"Well, where is Lincoln Park?"
"Right in front of Scuttlebutt's General Store. You can't miss it."
"You can't, huh? Well, that's where I bought my baloney sandwich and red strawberry soda water, and I didn't see no park."
"Den you must be blind jus as well as you is crazy."
"All I seen was a space just about big enough for somebody to park a car."
"Well, you damn fool, den dat's it den. And dey call it Lincoln Park cuz dat's whur old Mr. Scuttlebutt parks his brand new Lincoln car. Now I bet you thought dat it wuz some great big imagine place named after Abraham Lincoln, now dintcha?"
"Well, I didn't think too much about the size of it, but I did think that it was named after Abraham Lincoln."
"See dat, now at told you dat you wuz crazy, now didn't I?"
"Well, that's what you said."
"And ahm right, too, now ain't I?"
Of course, I didn't bother to answer this question for Old Man Mose, since he seemed to think that the answer was so obvious. I just left it hanging in the air and took leave of both Old Man Mose and his cementery. Because after all I wanted to go to where the action was, and things were pretty dead in Old Man Mose's cemetery.
But up in Lincoln Park, things were altogether different. There, things were alive and the place was really jumping.
And the center of attention was a big black swinging delta belle with a long razor mark on her right cheek. On the right cheek of her big black ass. She was doing something that, looked like a combination of the Shake and the Jerk, and her Nawth Cahlonna version of a micro mini-skirt kept flying up.
And the hopped up local boys kept egging her on.
"Hey now, sock it to me baby, you looking good."
And all the time she was constantly throwing her big fat black ass out of joint
"Now dis is what ah calls da Shimmyshawobble," she said.
I pulled up a wooden box and sat down with the rest of the Boogaloo swingers.
And she stopped dancing and hied herself over to me.
"You new around here, aintcha honey?"
I spied a straight razor stuck down between her tits and kind of shied away from her close approach.
And she said, "Yeah, ah kin tell, you new around here alright. What's yo name, honey?"
"Mine's Dave. What's yours?"
"Honey, jus call me da President."
"The President of what?"
"The President of da Women's: Club."
"What kind of Women's Club?"
"Da Women's Club fer Cuttin up Men. And jus ta prove dat ahm da President of da club, ah done cut me up fo husbands awreddy. No, you bettah make dat three. Becuz dat last sonofabitch he run so fast dat ah had to shoot him"
Now although I am inclined to be a little bit skeptical about things, I didn't doubt a single word of the story that the President told. Because the straight razor that she had stuck down between her tits, plus the razor mark on the right cheek of her ass, lent a high degree of believability to her tale.
And since I didn't want to become number five on her list of lately done up men, I made a quick exit from Lincoln Park and beat it back to the safer confines of Mama Bare's Nudist Colony. Where I put in another hard night's work, and then returned home to the Tramer farm. And since I save a light on in the Tramer living room window, I tip-toed up to it and peeped in. Hoping that I might see Mrs. Tramer naked or something.
9
Well, Mrs. Tramer was naked alright, she didn't have a stitch on.
But at the same time, I was totally unprepared for what I saw.
Because what I saw was Mrs. Tramer walking the dog.
The dog was standing up on his hind legs, and Mrs. Tramer was sitting down in a chair and holding onto him by his forepaws and trying to guide his dick into her pussy by walking him in between her wide open thighs.
She was trying to get the dog to fuck her!
And now, my suspicions about the dog, Duke, were fully confirmed.
And in a way, this greatly relieved me.
Because it seemed to indicate that this was the first time that Mrs. Tramer had ever tried anything like that with the dog. And since sucking Mrs. Tramer's pussy was one of my favorite pastimes, I hated to think that all along I had been sucking what some dog had just finished fucking.
Truthfully speaking, I found the ineptitude of the pair rather amusing. So instead of interfering, I decided to stand outside by the window for a few minutes and look at them make damn fools of themselves.
And that's pretty much what they were doing too.
Both him and her.
Her, with her legs draped over the side of the armchair and trying to walk the dog's dick into her pussy.
And him, walking hi on his hind legs like a man and missing the mark by country mile every time.
But I can at least say this much for the dog.
His ineptness was probably due to the fact that he was a black dog and he was just plain nervous because it was his first opportunity to get himself a piece of white ass.
But for Mrs. Tramer, all I can say is that she should have known better. Taking part in such a ludicrous performance.
Really, I thought that I would die laughing.
After one near miss, the dog waltzed back in again and this time the tip of his dick landed right in Mrs. Tramer's navel, was very shallow, he started pumping away with all his might Grabbing Mrs.
Tramer around the shoulders with his paws, obviously hurting her. And she raised her knees and tried to push him away. But the dog didn't budge.
Instead, he dug his claws deeper into Mrs. Tramer's shoulders in an effort to tighten his grip.
And it was at this point, that I think Mrs. Tramer became frightened.
She started thrashing about in the chair in a frantic effort to free herself, but by now the dog was foaming at the mouth and not willing to be put off so easily.
Finally, Mrs. Tramer succeeded in freeing herself, and she leaped up out of the chair and started running towards the stairs. But in doing so, she tripped and fell. Landing on her hands and knees, with her naked ass sticking up in the air.
And in an instant, the rutting beast had mounted her from behind!
Just like he would one of his own kind.
And since he was now working from a familiar position, this time he didn't have no trouble in finding Mrs. Tramer's hole. But it wasn't her pussy hole that he found, alas it was her ass-hole!
And in short, rapid strokes he was driving his dick into it like a piston. And Mrs. Tramer's anguished screams testified to the enormous size of it. For the dog, Duke, had a very huge sexual organ. Many times I had seen it in a state of erection, and indeed, not many men have one the size of it.
Of course, I could no longer just stand outside of the window and look at what was happening. For it was quite obvious that the woman was being raped.
Fortunately, it was summertime and the living room window wasn't locked. It was raised, with only a wire screen in it. And with one quick motion, I knocked the screen out of the window and dove through in head first.
Then I ran straight into the kitchen and grabbed a straight-backed chair, just like Clyde Beatty would have done. And I was ready to do battle with this raping four-legged monster that had made a mockery out of the legend that a dog is man's best friend.
First, in my attempt to dislodge him, I started clubbing him over the head with the legs of the chair. Being very careful not to accidentally hit Mrs. Tramer.
But the savage beast, being the mad dog that he was, only bared his deadly fangs and met my violent attack with a vicious snarl.
It was nothing short of incredible, how the dog withstood the bludgeoning punishment that I was dealing out to him.
Finally, though, he stopped snapping and snarling at me and just concentrated on jack-hammering his massive dick in and out of Mrs. Tramer's ass-hole. Which was more to his liking.
But he still had plenty of fight left in him.
Enough fight to enable him to lock his powerful jaws around the bottom rung of the chair legs when I raised the chair and tried to push him off Mrs. Tramer that way. But by locking his jaws around the bottom rung of the chair legs, he actually worked to his own disadvantage. Since this move on his part provided me with just enough extra leverage to successfully topple him off Mrs. Tramer's clawed and bloodied back. He landed on his back and began to furiously paw the air in an attempt to right himself.
And while he was down, I delivered the coup de grace. I kicked him in the teeth.
And then, when he scrambled to his feet, I lit into him with the chair again. Raining blows on his already battered body like a madman. And the renewed punishment was more than he could stand.
With a mighty bound, he bolted through the open window and lumbered off into the blackness of the night
And, Duke, the dog that raped women like a man, was loose upon the unsuspecting women of the surrounding countryside.
10
Right from the outset, there was no question in my mind but that the dog, Duke, would have to be hunted down and done away with.
Brutally!
Just like a dog.
For I was dead certain, that since he had once obtained sexual satisfaction by raping a woman, that he would henceforth regard all women in a similar light and would not hesitate to rape again. Especially if the hapless women were naked when he came upon them
like the unsuspecting and naked women in Mama Bare's Nudist Colony!
Somehow, they would have to be notified, I immediately surmised this.
But since Mrs. Tramer's husband was away from home on a business trip in Atlanta, and could not call a doctor for his injured wife, I had no other choice but to delay the warning until I had seen to it that Mrs. Tramer had received some kind of medical aid.
And I secured medical attention for Mrs. Tramer by phoning Dr. Paul C. Jarrick in the nearby town of Boogaloo. At the time of the call, the doctor was out on a house call delivering a baby, and he did not arrive at the Tramer farm until near sunup. And when he did get there, I'D be damned if he wasn't almost stoned. Why he even stopped and took a few nips out of the bottle while he was patching up the scratch marks on Mrs. Tramer's back and shoulders.
But, overall, the doctor's services were satisfactory enough, especially since he was too drunk to start asking embarrassing questions.
And after he had gone, the only complaint registered by Mrs. Tramer was, "My god, I look like an Egyptian mummy!"
Then she took a sedative and went straight upstairs to bed ... and without even asking me to touch her up. But I guess that the dog had done a pretty good job of that, though. My god, but what a beastly fucking he had given her. In all my life, I had never seen anything like it.
And as a precautionary measure, just to make sure that he didn't sneak back and try to get himself some more, I placed a loaded shotgun beside Mrs. Tramer's bed and told her to lock the bedroom door and not come out until I returned.
Then I grabbed Mr. Tramer's 30-30 rifle and went outside to look for the dog, Duke.
But I couldn't find hide nor hair of him.
And to me, this meant only one thing.
The lusting beast was out prowling the countryside in search of more women to rape!
And being possessed of the canine's extraordinary sense of smell, I had every reason to believe that the animal's keen nose would lead him straight to Mama Mare's Nudist Colony. For the aphrodisiac smell of naked pussies hung heavy about the place. On many a day, when the wind was blowing in my direction, I had often gotten a whiff of it. And even from such a distance, the erotic smell was powerful enough to give me such a potent erection that it throbbed.
So just as fast as my long legs would carry me, I ran to Mama Bare's Nudist Colony to spread the alarm.
But I was too late!
When I arrived, the raping beast had already claimed his first victim.
She was Mrs. Patricia Prudence Culpepper, a redheaded gentle-woman from Richmond, Virginia.
And according to Mrs. Culpepper, the attack occurred while she was out picking wild flowers to put in the vase on her cabin table.
She said that she had bent over to pick a beautiful flower, and all of a sudden she felt something cold nuzzling the crack of her ass, and before she could look around to see what it was, the thing was on her. Breathing hot on her neck, and ramming something awfully big and hard up her ass-hole. She was frightened half to death, so much so, that she passed out and wasn't quite sure whether or not it was a beast or a man who had claimed her. The only thing that Mrs. Culpepper was absolutely sure about, was the fact that the thing was covered with hair.
And this uncertainty on the part of Mrs. Culpepper gave rise to all sorts of wild speculation as to just what manner of beast it was that had terrorized and violated her.
Indeed, many claimed to have seen the thing on previous occasions. Saying that it looked like a great ape that walked about like a man.
And some even said that it was some kind of a huge, hairy thing that flew through the air just like a bird.
Of course, I knew that their tales were nothing but pure nonsense, and I didn't waste time by denying their claims. Instead, I got right down to brass tacks and explained to them just exactly what the situation was. And in this respect, Mama Bare was most helpful to me.
She waved her hands as a request for silence and said. "Now I want you all to listen to what David has to say. And I fully agree with him that it wont be necessary to call out the National Guard."
"Then how about a couple of battalions of United States Marines then?"
"No, no United States Marines either. What on earth would we need him for? Cant you see that David here has got his trusty little rifle?"
"What, that little old dinky thing against that great big beast? I think the beast will eat him alive!"
"And this great big beast that you keep hollering about is nothing more than a dog. a common household pet."
"A common household pet, you say? Well, you just bend over and he'H pet you alright He'll stick his dick right up your ass, that's what he'll do."
Now while I fully appreciated Mama Bare's help in calming down her clients, at the same time I must admit that I think she deliberately played down some of the danger in the situation. And for purely mercinary reasons too. Since she didn't want her customers to flee the premises in an exodus brought on by temporary panic. But I wanted the girls to be fully and constantly aware of the impeding danger until it had been eliminated. So I directed my closing remarks toward this end.
I pointed a finger at Cotton Tail's bare behind and said, "Girls, whatever you do, please don't parading around like this. Put some clothes on! Remember, this is no ordinary dog that you're dealing with. He's the lowliest of beasts, he's a rapist."
And Cotton Tail looked down at her nakedness and said, "Yes, putting some clothes on is a good idea. If that poor Mrs. Culpepper had had on a dress or something, it might not have happened."
"That's quite correct," I said, "But if any of you girls are unfortunate enough to get caught by this beast, for god's sake, please give him what he wants."
And this piece of my advice immediately brought forth a storm of violent protests.
"Oh no, I'm not going to let no goddamm dog fuck me. And that's final!"
"And neither am I, I'm not some kind of an animal or something."
"And in the ass-hole, too!"
"Why, Christ Almighty, I wouldn't even let my own husband fuck me in the ass, let alone some dog."
"Now just a minute, madam! Would you rather be fucked in the ass-hole by a dog, or killed by a dog? Now you just answer me that."
"Well, I don't want to die. Nobody does."
"Uh huh, I thought so. Then you remember this, then. That dog shows a definite preference for the ass-hole, and if you should happen to come across him, that orifice had better be your offering. Believe me, it will be the cheapest way out for you."
Then Mama Bare spoke up again.
She said, "Perhaps you girls had better stay in your cabins until the dog is put out of the way."
And I complimented her on her fine judgment.
I said, "That is the best advice of all, Mama Bare. And I have an immediate plan for putting the dog out of the way."
"Then tell us how you intend to do it?"
"By using one of the girls as bait to lure him to his death! It seems like this beast-likes beauty, and that's exactly what I intend te give him."
"Well, it sounds awfully dangerous to me, but just which one of the girls do you have in mind?"
"Not any one girl in particular. I'm going to pick a volunteer. So don't be bashful girls, step right up."
And just as I had expected, not a girl moved a muscle.
The mission seemed doomed to failure, even before it got started.
Then a ray of hope suddenly appeared.
Cotton Tail stepped forward and said, "I'll go with you, David, it sounds kind of exciting."
And some fifteen minutes later, we set off in search of our elusive prey.
Me, with a knapsack slung on my back and Mr.
Tramer's 30-30 rifle resting comfortably in the crook of my right arm. And the girl. Cotton Tail, just blonde and naked in the burning sun.
For the first quarter of a mile or so, we walked hand in hand, but as we pushed deeper into the heartland of the woods, I instructed Cotton Tail to walk about fifty feet in front of me.
And in less than a minute after she had taken up her position, we heard the first sign of our dreaded quarry.
It was a snapping sound like the breaking of a twig!
But the wily beast did not show himself.
The only indication of his presence was the telltale sound of the breaking twigs. Which was a nerve-wracking sound that dogged us every step of the way.
And the infernal twig-breaking eventually took its toll on Cotton Tail.
She called me to her and said, "Dave, do you think that maybe that's him stalking us?"
Not wishing to alarm her, but merely speaking the truth, I said, "Yes, Cotton Tail, that's exactly what it is. And in order to draw him out, I'm going to leave you all alone. I'm going to climb that tree over there, and I want you to go out into that little clearing and start picking flowers."
At first, first, she refused, claiming that she was too afraid to do it. But in the end, I finally prevailed upon her that it was the only way in which we could trick the cagey animal out into the open. And against her better judgment, she reluctantly went out into the little patch of wild flowers and bent to her task.
And I climbed the tall oak tree with my trusty little rifle and started looking. Looking very, very hard. In fact, I was looking so very hard that I almost fell out of the tree looking. Every time Cotton Tail bent over to pick a wild flower. I looked. And it sure was a pretty sight to see, too. Especially when her cheeks spread apart while she was bending over picking a flower, because then I could clearly see the little pink opening of her pretty little ass-hole. And evidently, the dog Duke saw it too, because he immediately came out of hiding and prepared to launch his attack.
At first, he sneaked out of the bushes and slowly crept forward, with all of the stealth of a tiger stalking his prey. It was obvious that he was hoping to catch his victim unaware, but he wasn't so lucky. For just in the nick of time, the girl Cotton Tail looked around and saw him!
She started screaming, and it was at this very instant that he darted after her like a streak of black light.
And when I squeezed the trigger, his huge black body was hurtling through the air so fast that it looked just like a black blur. And when he fell, he was less than a foot away from his intended victim.
I quickly climbed down out of the tree and examined him. Ready to finish the job if I had to.
But I didn't have to.
For Mr. Tramer's 30-30 rifle had done its job, and Duke, the dog that raped women like a man was laying dead at my feet
11
Following the reign of terror and resulting death of Mrs. Tramer's dog Duke, everything seemed to go wrong for me out at the Tramer farm.
For one thing, Mrs. Tramer's husband took a definite dislike to me. Perhaps it was due to the loss of the dog or something, I don't know. But I do know that his attitude made it just about impossible for me to continue my stay there.
And back at Mama Bare's Nudist Colony, things were just about as bad. If not even worse. Although the danger that had been posed by the raping dog no longer existed, the experience caused by his assault on Mrs. Culpepper so shook up the women that they had left Mama Bare's place long before their usual date of departure. Ordinarily, their getaway date was on Labor Day, but now they were gone already. And it was only about the middle of July.
The only two people remaining out at Mama Bare's place was Mama Bare herself and a lesbian who was hung almost as well as a man. A real horny lesbian, she was. And this fact precluded the need for my stud services out at Mama Bare's Nudist Colony, since it was obvious that the lesbian was taking care of Mama Bare, and the lesbian damn sure didn't need me to take care of her.
So feeling unnecessary, I quit the scene and split to the East.
To the East Village of New York City.
And when I landed among the Flower Children of Hippie land, I had exactly seventeen hundred dollars and change in my pockets. Almost two thousand dollars. Which means that I landed among these innocents with a good deal of authority. Especially so, since money is one commodity that the Flower Children don't seem to have too much of. And the power of my authority immediately made itself felt.
I was walking down Avenue B just across the street from Tomkins Square when a stringy-haired blonde Slum Goddess come out of the park and approached me.
Sticking out her dirty little hand, she said, "Mister, can you spare a quarter?"
No, I didn't give her the quarter.
Instead. I gave her a dollar.
And obvious!? surprised at my generosity, she said "What you're giving me a whole dollar?"
I assured her I was, and in turn, I became equally surprised at her brand of generosity.
Fingering the strand of Indian beads around her neck, she said, "A whole dollar, huh? Well, I know what you want for that much money, so let's go to your pad and get it over with. But no gang banging, though. Nobody but you."
Her generous proposal caught me short, because I didn't have a pad to take her to. In fact, right at that very moment I was in the midst of looking for an empty apartment to rent. So I explained the situation to her and walked away.
But she called after me, "You say you're looking for a place to rent, right? Well, I know where there's a place for rent. It's right around the corner on Tenth Street, if you want me to, I'll show you where tt is."
She showed me where the place was.
It was at 435 East Tenth Street, between Avenue B and Avenue C
We cautiously climbed the rickety stoop and I pressed the bell for the Super.
And observing me doing this, the Slum Goddess said, "The bell doesn't work, you'll have to use that can."
In place of the defective bell, the Super had rigged up an old empty tin can tied onto a little piece of dirty string. And in order to get him to answer the door, you had to bang the tin can up against the place where the doorknob ought to be. It was all very primitive, but at the same time it was all very efficient. Providing the Super wasn't down in the basement sleeping. Something which I suspected him of doing right then.
So I just kept banging away.
And in the meantime, engaging the Slum Goddess in conversation.
"Do you know the Super?" I asked her.
"Sure," she said, "His name is Mr. Doocey. But everybody calls him Acey. Acey Doocey, that's his name."
Finally, Mr. Doocey showed himself.
And his opening remark was, "What are you tryin' to do, boy, wake up the dead?"
"No, Mr. Doocey, I'm just trying to rent an apartment," I replied.
"So you want to rent an apartment, hah? Well before we can do any business, I've got to get myself some Red Eye. You wouldn't happen to have some on you, wouldja? Nope, you don't look like the type."
"Then how about some LSD, Acey?"
"Nope."
"Then how about some pot or dried banana peels?"
"Nope, m leave that stuff to you younguns. Me, m just keep on drinking my Red Eye and git drunk like the good Lord intended."
"I'm sorry we can't help you out, Mr. Doocey."
"Then you'll just have to wait here until I come back, cause I just gotta git myself some Red Eye."
And with that said, Mr. Doocey moved out with an urgent stride.
But alas and alack, that's not the way that he came back.
He was gone for more than an hour, and when he finally did come back, he wasnt striding at all. He was staggering.
But he was ready to talk business, though.
He said, "I've got four rooms on the top floor, the rent is sixty five dollars a month ... plus one month's rent as security. Both payable in advance.
So you give me the money and I'll give you the keys to the place."
And since he was in such a hurry to give me the keys to the place, I became a little bit suspicious and said, "But Mr. Doocey, I would like to look the place over before I made up my mind."
And the Slum Goddess cut in, "Well, has it got both hot and cold water?"
"Why certainly!", said Mr. Doocey, "And it's also got an electric refrigerator that works if you buy a piece of ice and put it in."
"Then take it, Dave," advised the Slum Goddess.
And without any further argument, I took the place.
The Slum Goddess had sold me on it.
And since I had closed the deal with the same astuteness of a person buying a pig in a poke, I took her by the hand and anxiously climbed the stairs to see just what it was that I had just given Mr. Doocey a hundred and thirty dollars for.
Well, it wasn't very much, I'll tell you that. But in spite of all the things that the place wasn't, the Slum Goddess still thought that it was just great.
She ran into the dilapidated bathroom and jubilantly exclaimed, "Hey, do you know what? Just like Mr. Doocey said, this place has got hot and cold water. Plenty of it. Now I can take a bath, I haven't had one in over a month."
And I didn't doubt her word one bit ... because the Slum Goddess didn't smell exactly like Chanel No. 5.
But she was practically begging me for an opportunity to correct the situation.
She said, "Hey, Dave, what about that bath, will you let me take one?"
"Sure, I'll let you take a bath, and I'll even do better than that I'll also let you stay here, if you want to."
"Do you really mean it?"
"Why, of course, I mean it There's four rooms and I can't live in 'em all."
"Oh man, that's groovy, now I'm your old lady!"
And just like that I had picked myself up an old lady on my very first day in Hippieland.
12
There is one thing that most Hippie girls have in common.
Almost all of them know how to fuck.
They have been well broken in, and vaseline is seldom needed to ease the passage of the biggest dick. This is true of both their pussies and their ass-holes. And if a man is lucky enough to get ahold of one, he can rest assured that he is in for a solid piece of fucking, with no holes barred.
Of course, before a man indulge himself in these pleasures, he might have to suggest the use of a little soap and water. Not for the purpose of facilitating the penetration of his dick, but for the purpose of cleaning up the Hippie girl. Some of them are a little bit dirty, you know.
And the Slum Goddess was one of the dirty ones.
But she was willing to lock horns with a little soap and water and when she stepped out of the bathtub, the sudsy experiment had brought forth a miracle.
She looked and smelled like an entirely different girl.
The color of her white skin no longer looked like a motley mess, instead, it was now a healthy looking reddish white with a little pink glow to it. And instead of looking like two little chocolate drops, the nipples on her tits now looked like two little strawberries. Two little strawberries that were not quite ripe.
And the offensive smell of her lovely body was completely gone.
Now, she smelled just as sweet as a fresh-plucked rose.
And just like an anxious little terrier puppy, I couldn't resist the urge to sniff and snort over every square inch of her delicious white body. Then I started kissing her.
And she said, "Oooh whee, your beard is tickling the inside of my thighs."
And I responded by cupping my hands under the bottom of her buttocks and pulling her bushy pussy right up into my face. With the hairs of my beard and the hairs of her pussy intertwining into one. Then, in a most delicate and expert manner, I began to excite her by sucking on her clitoris.
Which soon became hard, almost like a little dick.
And she reacted to my tongue-teasing by squirming her ass about and saying, "Good lord, you sure know how to eat a pussy. This feeling is nearly killing me."
And this flattering compliment from her encouraged me to go down further.
I slowly slid the tip of my tongue down along the crack of her pussy until it reached her pink little ass-hole. Then I alternated between playing around its puckered rim, and sticking the tip of my tongue all the way into it. And on each successive thrust, I stuck the tip of my tongue into her a little bit deeper. Driving the quivering Slum Goddess almost out of her mind.
And this brought forth another compliment from her. she said. "You also know how to tickle a girl's ass-hole. David. And that's good, because some guys don't. But now, let's settle down and do some old fashioned fucking."
And we did.
Her pussy was well opened up and I didn't have no trouble at all in ramming my dick into her all the way up to my balls on the very first shot.
And while this would have been a brutal and savage entry for most women, the Slum Goddess didn't flinch a muscle when I piled her.
She just moaned low and started throwing her young and strong body right back at me.
Moving her hips in a powerful circular motion.
Matching me tit for tat on every stroke.
And in spite of the bigness of her hole, fucking the Slum Goddess was almost like fucking a virgin.
For she knew enough about the art of fucking to compensate for her big pussy by contracting her vaginal muscles into a tight vaginal grip. The grip of her pussy was almost as tight as the grip of a man's fist when he's jerking off. And she knew exactly when to apply the pressure, too.
On every upward thrust of her driving hips, she exerted a tight vaginal grip on my piling dick.
And during the downward swing, she relaxed her grip. Thus, completing the cycle.
Just like a fucking machine.
And all the time she was just laying there working away and moaning low. Not grunting and groaning like most women do when they are getting the hell fucked out of them.
The only time that she did grunt and groan, was when I came. Because then, my big dick swelled to such an enormous size that even her big pussy had to yield to it. And during the course of our little fucking spree, I shot at least four or five loads into her.
And after it was all over, I paid her the highest compliment that I could think of.
I said, "Baby, you're the greatest!"
And she replied, "I'm glad that you like it . ... you didn't do too bad yourself, either."
Then we rolled into each other's arms and fell asleep.
Both of us completely fucked out
13
Located at on Second Avenue, near Ninth Street, the Dead End Cafe is one of the favorite Hippie hangouts in the East Village area of New York City.
And due to its great popularity, the name of the Dead End Cafe is widely known throughout the width and breadth of Hippieland. Be it New York, San Francisco, Boston or Berkeley.
But the Dead End Cafe did not always enjoy this nation-wide reputation. It did not become a conversation piece among the Hippies until Danny Frizella come in from San Francisco and took it over. Then the Dead End started to move.
And Danny got the place going by staging a series of Friday night sexual orgies called Freak-Outs.
But for all intents and purposes, these Friday night Freak-Outs could have been called Fuck-Outs. Because that's exactly what they were. Fuck-Outs, pure and simple.
Weekly fucking contests held in the back room of the Dead End Cafe to see who could fuck their old lady the longest. And just like any other kind of contest, these Fuck-Outs were presided over by a panel of judges.
Three naked girls, they were the judges.
And if you had enough staying power, you got a chance to fuck them, too.
But only a little bit at a time.
Every fifteen minutes you had to take your dick out of your old lady's pussy and stick it into the pussies of the three judges. And if your dick was still hard enough to pass this test, you were then allowed to continue on in the contest. But if it wasn't, you were eliminated. And the penalty for being a loser was having to get on your knees and kiss the head of the prick of the eventual winner.
The only position barred by the judges was the girl on top of the boy position in face-to-face fucking. This position was not allowed, but any other suitable position was freely permitted, though. And it was left entirely up to the contestants themselves on what hole they used. With both the pussy hole and the ass-hole being fully permissible.
And for his manly effort, the winner of the Fuck-Out was given a trophy.
It was a wooden statue of a prick called Phil the Phallus. An upright prick sticking up out of two huge balls. And while I don't consider myself a collector of trophies, I did nevertheless decide that I would like to have a Phil the Phallus to go on my mantelpiece. Even at the expense of having to fuck the golden-haired Slum Goddess in a public place.
Of course, Danny Frisella, the owner and manager of the Dead End Cafe was the one who would decide on whether or not me and the Slum Goddess would be allowed to participate in the Dead End's next fucking contest. And since I was a Nigger, and the Slum Goddess was a white girl, I didn't know just what his reaction would be.
But when I mentioned the idea to him, he was enthusiastic about it.
His eyes lit up like psychedelic lights and he said, "Now man, that will be a groovy happening, a Spade cat fucking a white girl."
And evidently, most of the other Hippies thought so, too. Because after the word of it got around, most of the talk in the Dead End Cafe centered around "seeing a spade cat fuck a white girl."
All of the Hippies wanted to see it, and they eagerly awaited for Friday night to roll around so that they could satisfy their growing curiosity.
14
Running a close second to the Friday night fuck-outs for star billing as the stellar attraction, was the Dead End Cafe's celebrated topless Go-Go girls. And on fuck-out night, the Dead End girls usually warmed the patrons up by proving to them that they didn't have dead ends.
Their ends were very much alive and shaking and they shook them all over the place. But on fuck-out night, what the Dead End Hippies wanted to see was the Fuck-Out.
It was the kind of happening that the long-haired Hippies dug the most. A slice of life in the raw elevated to the status of a theatrical production. A theatrical production not hampered by the burden of a fucked up script But with every bit of stage business being the real thing
And for the privilege of seeing the "real thing" of a Nigger fucking a white girl in the back room of the Dead End Cafe, the owner jacked up the price that he usually charged, since ordinarily the price of admission went for a buck fifty per couple. He had a good thing going for him and he milked it for all it was worth. And that was plenty, because the place was jam-packed.
For some unknown reason, the sight of a Black man fucking a white woman seems to always draw a large and enthusiastic audience. And oddly enough, this sort of thing enjoys its greatest popularity right in the heart of the southland itself. Especially among rich Southern white men. And in order to satisfy their curiosity, it is not unusual for these rich Southern gentlemen to pay as much as fifty dollars a head to see a Nigger in action with some lusty white wench.
No, a black woman won't fill the bill. The woman has to be white. And in almost every instance, stag shows of this type always feature some big black buck fucking the hell out of a little white doe. To most Americans, the sight of a Black man on top of a white woman personifies the ultimate in erotic desires. Perhaps this is due to the forbidden fruit aspect of the thing, I don't know. But I do know that this is the explanation which is advanced most often by Southern white women who have broken the code and allowed themselves to be fucked by Black men.
And this strong curiosity about the black male, is not limited to just the white women of the South, either. Many Northern white women are just as curious, especially about the size of a Nigger's dick. And just as soon as I had gotten undressed, this was the first thing that girls at the Dead End Cafe noticed about me that night.
One of them shook her head in total disbelief and said, "My god, is that thing for real!"
I waved it around like a baseball bat and said, "Well, if it ain't, it's sure got me fooled."
And she said, "Well, I never saw one that big before, it looks like a horse's dick. Which one of the girls are you going to fuck with it?"
I pointed to the Slum Goddess and said, "That little blonde standing over there."
"Then who's got the vaseline, you or her?"
"Neither one of us, she can manage me alright."
"She can, huh? Well, I'm one of the judges and before I let you stick that damn thing into me, you'll have to put some vaseline on it."
"What are they fixing to do over there?"
"To draw the lots."
"Draw lots for what?"
"For post positions, to see which couple starts fucking first."
There was a total of four couples in the field, and me and the Slum Goddess drew post position number four. Which was just about the equivalent of drawing the inside post position in a horse race.
And now, the waiting was all over.
A well hung stud banged a gong with the head of his dick, signaling the moment of truth.
It was Post Time!
And the Timekeeper started her stop-watch and the action began.
With Couple Number One making a fast break from the starting gate.
And right away, a sigh of "oh, no" went up from the circle of spectators.
Because the boy in Couple Number One stuck his little pointed dick up his old lady's ass-hole, and everybody present knew that that wasn't no way to win a fucking contest. The grip of an ass-hole is much too tight for it, it makes you come too quick.
And in exactly 3 minutes and 51 seconds of the first round, the boy in Couple Number One had had it
And Couple Number Two didn't do too much better. In 9 minutes and 7 seconds they were finished.
But Couple Number Three was something else again. They even looked like bad news.
He was a big tattooed brute about thirty-five or so called Sailor Man. And his old lady was a well-built redhead running about twenty-eight or thirty with the biggest pair of tits that I'd ever seen. Mature and well experienced fuckers, that's what they looked like.
And before the Sailor Man mounted his old lady, he asked the Timekeeper for the vaseline.
He smeared some of it on his dick and said, "This will cut down the friction, and make me last longer."
And next to mine, the Sailor Man had the biggest dick in the place. Mine was about an inch and a half longer than his, and that was all. His was just as big around as mine was, maybe even a little bit bigger.
And after the Sailor Man had finished lubricating his great big dick, which was now in a state of magnificent erection, he motioned his old lady over towards the surplus army cot. And then, with a flicking motion of his right arm, he casually pushed her down on it. She fell over backwards onto the cot and in the same falling motion she drew her knees up to her chin and opened up her thighs just as far as they would go.
The Sailor Man dropped down in between them and went to work.
Riding her just like he walked, with a slow rolling gait.
And she just laid there not moving a muscle.
Just moaning low and chewing on a great big wad of bubble gum.
And all the time, the Sailor Man was slow-rolling her almost to death.
It was a carefully calculated fuck, if I ever saw one.
And one of the Hippies tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Sailor Man can slow-roll that broad like that all night long. I've seen him do it, that's how he gets his money's worth when he fucks a prostitute. He's doing his thing, man."
The Slum Goddess overheard this bit of conversation and tried to cheer me up.
She said, "Don't worry none, we've got a good chance, because you're pretty good yourself."
Then, as an additional measure of assurance, she pointed to a thermos bottle tucked under her arm and said, "Furthermore, we'll have this secret weapon going for us."
But secret weapon or no secret weapon, I still wasn't too sure about the outcome of things. Because just like the Hippie had said, it was beginning to look like the Sailor Man could slow-roll his old lady all night long.
He had already come three times, and he was still pushing dick. With his tattooed ass still rising and falling in that same steady roll. Then it happened again!
The redhead arched her back and the Sailor Man's body tensed. He had just shot another load into her. The fourth one!
And the man was still going strong. It was unbelievable.
Then suddenly, without warning, the first sign that the Sailor Man might be weakening appeared.
He looked at the Timekeeper and asked her, "How many more minutes to the end of this round?"
This was the first time that the Sailor Man had ever asked the Timekeeper that, and it indicated that he was beginning to worry about the time.
And the Timekeeper looked at her stop-watch and said, "You have three more minutes, sir."
And right away, the Sailor Man stopped slow-rolling his old lady and started fast-fucking her.
Pile-driving his big dick into her gushing pussy with such rapidity and force that some of the onlookers were splattered with little splashes of come.
And everybody present knew what was happening.
The Sailor Man's dick was starting to fall and he was trying to pump some more life back into it by vigorous straight up and down fast-fucking.
"Time!", honored the Timekeeper.
And like a shot out of a gun, the Sailor Man jumped up off his old lady and ran over to the three sprawled out judges.
He pushed the legs of the first judge up to her chin and tried to ram his dick into her pussy.
But this time it wasn't so easy for the Sailor Man.
His dick wasn't as hard as it ought to be, and the fact that his dick was ov-er-sized didn't help matters none.
But the game little bastard didn't give up easy, though.
He huffed and puffed until his dick was hanging down between his legs like a piece of wet spaghetti.
And with a look of utter dismay in his eyes, he asked the Timekeeper, "How long did I last, honey?"
"Exactly one hour!", answered the naked little Timekeeper.
And for the Sailor Man and his redheaded old lady, the battle was over.
But they didn't have anything to be ashamed of, because they had just racked up a whole solid hour of fucking time.
And if me and the Slum Goddess wanted to beat them, that was mark that we had to top. And for the Hippies, this was a double treat. Because besides the pleasure of looking at a Nigger fucking a white girl, at the same time they would also be looking at a Nigger trying to out-fuck a white man.
And the place was alive with the incessant chatter of the Hippies.
"See that, Cindy, I told you that his dick was bigger than the Sailor Man's."
"Well, it certainly is a whole lot longer, that's for sure."
"And that's the way you like 'em, big and long, ain't it Cindy?
"Well, if a man's got to be big and long, I think it's a good place to be big and long at."
"Honey, you can say that again, because that's just the way I like 'em too. Big and long."
"Shut the hell up, you're the choosiest faggot I ever did see."
"Hey, look at that, that Spade cat ain't gonna fuck it, he's gonna suck it!"
"Oh, no he ain't, he's just kissing it for luck. See that, I told you so."
"My god! Did you see that? Why she didn't even let out a whimper when he put that great big thing into her."
"Hey, Ronnie, move your ass over a little bit, I can't see from way back here. There now, that's better."
"Okay, you're in the saddle. Daddyo. Now go, man, go!"
"Don't listen to him! Go slow like the Sailor Man did."
Now, telling a Nigger to go slow on a piece of white ass makes just about as much sense as telling somebody to eat just one potato chip. But contrary to the ravishing dictates of my hungry dick, I did go slow. Real slow, just like the Sailor Man had done. And being hippied to the action, the Slum Goddess just laid there and accepted what I so teasingly offered her. With the soft cradle formed by her luscious white thighs rocking ever so slightly with the restrained piling of my big stiff dick.
I was doing a very methodical piece of fucking, and my black ass slowly rose and fell to the muffled cadence of an unseen drummer.
But even so, the burning folds of the Slum Goddess' steaming pussy would not be denied. And she milked the first load out of my dick in just about three minutes flat.
And this wasn't good!
Because if I wanted to beat the Sailor Man's fucking record, I still had at least 58 minutes of solid fucking time ahead of me. And from past experiences, I knew that if I come two more times before those 58 minutes were up, that I would be in big trouble. Because my dick would start to fall after the third time.
So, right from the very beginning, things didn't look none too good for me.
But even if I did lose, I didn't intend to place any of the blame on the Slum Goddess. Because she was doing the very best that she could, why she wasn't even contracting her big pussy like she usually did. The trouble was, that I myself just couldn't hold back long enough.
And when I did manage to hold myself back, somehow things still managed to go wrong.
like for instance, during the penetration test at the end of the second round, I accidentally climaxed and shot a load into one of the judges. That's how tight the judge's pussy was. But my dick was still hard enough to penetrate the third judge, and I was allowed to continue on in the contest ... with my dick in a state of rapid decline.
And if it had not been for the quick work of the Slum Goddess, the day might have been lost right then and there.
Just as soon as she sensed that my dick was falling, she wrapped her long white legs around the small of my back and fast-fucked me, instead of me fast-fucking her. And in about two minutes time, my dick was just as hard as it ever had been. Then I started slow-rolling her again.
But things still looked pretty black, because I had already shot off two times, and had to keep on fucking her for about thirty minutes more. Plus contending with the judge with the tight pussy.
Nevertheless, though, I slowly fucked on and hoped for the best.
But my best just didn't seem to be good enough.
Because when I shot off for the third time, I was still more than five minutes shy of breaking the Sailor Man's fucking record. And right away my dick started to fall.
It looked like the ball game was over. And once again the Slum Goddess flew to my assistance!
She reached down beside the cot and picked up our secret weapon, the thermos bottle. Then she opened it up and dumped out an ice cube and went to work.
Clutching the ice cube with her finger tips, she began to massage my ass-hole with it.
And just as one might logically expect, the Hippies started laughing and making funny little remarks.
"Instead of an ice cube, a Bunsen burner is what she needs."
"Yeah, that'll make him get hot alright."
"So hot he'll be smoking."
But the merciless razzing soon turned into admiration as I passed the pussy penetration test with flying colors.
Sticking my big stiff dick into all three of the judges one right after another!
Then I hopped back on top of the golden-haired Slum Goddess and bounced up and down a few times and then asked the Timekeeper for my time.
She stopped her stop-watch and said, "Exactly one hour and one minute, sir."
And by the narrow margin of just one fleeting minute, I was the undisputed Fucking Champion of the Dead End Cafe!
Of course, I realized that victory would not have been mine without the aid of the Slum Goddess and her parlor trick with the ice cube. So I felt moved to ask her the secret of her success.
And she said, "Well, there's a lot of nerve endings in the area of a person's ass-hole, including a man's erector nerve. And these nerves respond to sudden coldness in the very same way that they respond to sexual excitation. And the ice cube prolonged your erection long enough to win the contest. You see, a nurse learns a lot about the human body."
"What, you a nurse? You never told me that you were a nurse before."
"I know I didn't, and I'm not really a nurse ... I'm only a nursing school drop-out."
15
To paraphrase an old saying, it can quite accurately be said that popularity follows the head that wears the crown.
And if one is lucky enough to be the Crown Head of the Kingdom of the Fuck, most of this popularity will come from the opposite sex. Which is the way that it was with me after I had won the fucking championship at the Dead End Cafe.
But don't get me wrong though, because every thing wasn't exactly peaches and cream. There was also a little uneasiness that went with the wearing of the crown. It seems like some of the Sailor Man's friends didn't like the idea that he had been out-fucked by a Nigger. Especially by a Nigger that had the unmitigated gall to employ a white girl as his partner in committing the dastardly deed.
"We gon ketch that Nigger and castrate him, that's what we gonna do," that was the avowed intentions of the Sailor Man's friends.
And the Sailor Man's friends were an unkempt bunch of motorcycle riding bike bums who wore Nazi swastikas hung around their grimy necks and had skull-and-crossbones arm patches sewn onto the sieves of their black leather jackets. They were definitely the kind of people you wouldn't invite to a birthday party. Just the sight of them barreling down Second Avenue on their powerful motor bikes was more than enough to put a fright into any ordinary citizen. Then, with long hair flowing in the wind and all. And it was not just one or two of them, but fifteen or twenty all the time.
The Screaming Eagles they called themselves, and they were a real tough bunch of cookies.
But I didn't worry too much about them, though. Because I am the kind of person who is inclined to give his attention to the more immediate things. And to me, the more immediate things were all of the little Hippie girls who wanted me to fuck them.
And here, I want to take the liberty to make a very astute observation. And that very astute observation is this: The best key in the world for opening up the legs of strange females is a fucking reputation.
If it had not been for the reputation that I made for myself by out-fucking the Sailor Man at the Dead End Cafe that night, I would have been just another face in a sea of nameless faces in the psychedelic glitter of Hippieland. Just another face who would of had to scuffle like hell in order to get himself a piece of extra ass. But now, I was somebody and the Hippie girls came up to me and openly asked me to fuck them. Even some of the teeny-boppers wanted to give me a tumble.
One day I was standing on the corner of Fourteenth Street and Second Avenue, and I swear she couldn't have been a day over twelve years old.
She walked up to me and said, "I was looking for you last night. I waited outside the Dead End Cafe, but I didn't see you leave."
"Well, that figures ... "
"What figures?"
"You not seeing me leave, because I wasn't at the Dead End last night."
"No?"
"No, I wasn't."
"And I wanted to see you so bad, too. I've got some paintings I want to show you, I done 'em myself."
"What, you're a painter?"
"Yeah, and if you come up to my pad and look at 'em, after you finish we can have a happening, because my Momma and Poppa ain't home, I live just around the corner on Thirteenth Street. Well, are you coming up?"
Now, while I like young stuff just as well as the next man, I still didn't go up the Teeny Bopper's pad. Because this particular piece of young stuff looked just a little bit too young, and I didn't want to end up in jail. And while I didn't go up to the Teeny Booper's pad, there was an awful lot of other pads that I did go up to. And most of them didn't have any paintings to entice me with either.
I was actually doing more fucking in a single week, than I usually did in a whole month. But the ledger of life has a peculiar way of balancing itself, and the pleasures that I took on the outside, brought an equal amount of displeasure on the inside. On the inside of my own pad with the Slum Goddess.
The trouble started one night after I had just spent a hard day fucking every little Hippie chick that I could stick a dick into. Me and the Slum Goddess were laying on the floor eating a TV dinner and watching our favorite TV show.
And I politely asked her, "Honey, will you please get up and fetch me a glass of cold water?"
First, she looked at me just like I was crazy.
Then she slowly rolled a mouthful of TV dinner around in her mouth and suddenly exploded, "Get up and fetch you a glass of cold water! Now just why in the hell can't you get up off your own black ass and get it for yourself?"
"Because I'm a little bit tired, that's why."
"Oh, so you're just a little bit tired, huh? Well, I thought you had a broken leg or something."
"No, no broken leg, I'm just a little bit tired, that's all."
"Just a little bit tired, huh? Well, one thing is for sure, you're certainly not just a little bit tired from fucking me. Because you hardly ever touch me anymore! At first, you used to tear me up four or five times a night, but now, I'm lucky if I get a little piece twice a night."
"Oh, so that's it, huh? You're jealous!"
"No, now god dammit, I'm not jealous. That's not one of my hang-ups, I'm too god damned civilized for it. But, Nigger, you're getting some outside action, and goddammit I don't like it."
"Now you hold on a minute and don't go getting yourself all excited."
"Me hold on a minute and don't go getting myself all excited? Hey, Nigger, just who in the hell do you think you are anyway?"
"To make a long story short, you're Bonnie and I'm Clyde. That's who I think I am."
"Now, ain't that a bitch? Why I'll take this god damn ashtray and damn if I don't Bonnie your goddamn Clyde!"
But she didn't though, because her aim wasn't good enough.
The ashtray missed my head by at least a sixty-fourth of an inch.
And I jumped up and ran towards the kitchen, with her in hot pursuit.
She overtook me right by the kitchen door and said, "Up against the wall, moth-er-fucker! Don't you try to run away from me, you sneaky little Nigger bastard."
And just like you do crazy people, I tried to humor her.
I smiled and said, "Now, Bonnie, you know damn well that Clyde don't run from nobody. I was only going out into the kitchen to get myself that glass of water."
And with a forgiving look in her pretty little blue eyes, she said, "Oh, don't you bother, I'D go get the water for you. You go back and watch TV."
And just like she said she would, she went and brought me the glass of water.
I said "Thank you, honey."
And reached out my hand to take it
But instead of giving ft to me in my hand, she gave it to me right in the face.
K-er-splash!
And while I was busy trying to keep myself from drowning, she tippy-toed back out into the kitchen again and got another glass of water.
And offering it to me, this time she said, "Now, this one is for drinking."
I took the glass of water ... but not for drinking.
I had a different idea, and this time the k-er-splash was right in her face.
And this really steamed her up.
like an unleashed tiger, she bared her fangs and came clawing at me. Doing all of the things that women do when they fight with men.
She aimed a dimpled knee right at my groin, but missed her mark from here to there and only succeeded in knocking over the TV set. With her knee getting the worst of it. No damage was done to the TV set. It was a new-fangled solid state affair and instead of conking out, it started playing better. Before it was knocked over, the picture was fuzzy and all blurred. Now, the picture was crystal clear and the sound wasn't too bad either.
And after she had failed to make contact with her knee, she then tried to make contact with her hands. She grabbed at my balls, but she missed again, and all she got was a handful of dick. She started pulling and jerking on it, but instead of hurting me, this felt pretty good.
So I told her, "Baby, please don't stop now!"
But it didn't do no good, and she stopped pulling on my dick and started scratching at my face and eyes.
And that's when I clamped a bear hug around her waist and wrestled her to the floor. When she fell, her micro mini-skirt rode up around her almond-shaped navel, and since she didn't have no drawers on, it exposed her bare and bushy pussy. And in all my life, I never wanted her as bad as I did right at that moment.
So not knowing how she would react, I started kissing her.
She opened her mouth and I stuck my tongue half way down her throat. And after we had swapped spit for two or three minutes, she slid her hand down to my fly and opened ft
Then she guided the head of my throbbing dick into her wet and waiting pussy.
16
Since Tompkins Square Park was just a stone's throw away from the door of our pad, me and the Slum Goddess often took advantage of this closeness when we took our daily constitutional. Mostly walking hand in hand, and in general acting just like a couple of loons.
And sometimes arousing the ire of the local citizens.
"Look, Willie Mae, here comes dat crazy Nigger again."
"And just looka dat no good white bitch dat he's got wid him."
"Damn if ah don't think both of 'em is tetched in the head."
"If dey fuck around wid me again, lak dey did yesdiddy, dey gonna be tetohed in da head alright Cuz ahm gonna tetch 'em in da head wid dis straight razor dat ah got heah in mah bosom."
"Yeah, dem damn hippies just run all over us decent folks, and we been livin heah all our lives, too."
"Dat's right, Lulu Belle, all our lives since we come up from Mississippi last munt"
Instant New Yorkers, that's what you call that kind.
And since neither me nor the Slum Goddess needed a shave, we moved on and didn't tangle with 'em. We felt that we would be a whole lot safer among the native born New Yorkers. Namely the little kiddies. So we made it over to the playground, I walked and the Slum Goddess wigled over to it.
And right away, the Slum Goddess captured the attention of the little people with her daring and baring gymnastics on the monkey bars.
"Look, mommie, that lady ain't got no pants on!"
"Well, it's such a hot day. Shirl, that I don't blame her. And do you want to know something?"
"What mommie?"
"Mommie ain't got none on either. See!"
The little kid saw alright, and about five seconds later she didn't have none on either.
And her young mommie looked down at the crumpled little pile of pink panties laying in the sandbox and in an outburst of indignation, shouted, "Why you nastly little wench, you put them goddam panties right back on, before I spank your fannie!"
It was a clear case of the double standard, there wasn't no doubt about it. But me and the Slum Goddess didn't let this terrible truth dampen our youth ful enthusiasm, and we continued on our merry romp through Tompkins Square Park. And everything was coming up roses.
She was wearing a big, floppy yellow hat and the Flower Child had the rose stuck behind her right ear.
And the Slum Goddess said loud enough for her to hear, "Do you know what, lover boy, with that god damn flower stuck behind her ear, I'd say she looks like a blooming idiot. Hee, hee, hee."
And what the Slum Goddess did next was really insane.
The Flower Child was minding her own business, walking along about fifteen or twenty feet in front of us, and without any warning, the Slum Goddess sprinted up in back of her and slapped her across the ass.
Whack!
It was a hard slap.
And as the startled girl looked around from under her big, floppy yellow hat, the Slum Goddess said to her, "Honey, I want to ask you something."
"Ask me, what?"
"Have you had any lately?"
"Had any what lately? Pot or LSD?"
"No, honey, not that. I mean have you had any of that wine lately."
"What wine? Do you mean that wine in those TV commercials?"
"Yep, child, that's the one."
"Well, I don't take TV commercials seriously ... because they can be very dangerous."
"How come? That sounds like hokum to me."
"Well, it ain't. Do you remember that TV commercial for that airline company that showed a whole lot of juicy steaks and things and said come fly with us and eat your way to Florida?"
"Yep, I remember that one. As a matt-er-of-fact, I saw it only last night."
"You did, huh? Well, my boyfriend tried to eat his way to Florida and got locked up. And it all resulted from just a little misunderstanding, too. You see, he didn't know that they only meant the steaks when they said eat your way to Florida, so the lady sitting in the seat beside him had him arrested."
"She did, huh?"
"Well, I guess it's people like that that give eating pussy such a bad name."
"You're absolutely right. And by the way, I like the direct way that you approached me. With such a resounding whack right across my bottom. Indeed, my butt still burns from it. So, perhaps you and your friend would be kind enough to let me join you?"
"Why, of course, the more the merrier I always say. But first, give me that rose that you have stuck behind your ear."
"Here, take it. But what on earth do you intend to do with it?"
"Eat it! All of a sudden I have an uncontrollable urge for a flowery lunch."
"A flowery lunch for you, Goddess, but for me, I prefer a hairy one."
"Just as always, dear David, your taste in good things to eat is truly beyond reproach. And I am greatly honored that it is my hairy lunch that you choose to eat."
"Goodness gracious, do you mean to say that he's going to eat your pussy right out here in this park?"
"Yes, my child, so excuse us while we step in behind this clump of bushes for a few minutes."
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, we stumbled back out from behind the clump of bushes. Of course, if I had of been real hungry, it probably would have been two or three hours before we showed ourselves again. But I wasn't real hungry, so I settled for just a little snack. And for dessert, I joined the girls in eating the succulent rose petals. And I thought that they were just simply delicious.
But the Flower Child in the big, floppy yellow hat said, "I think they would taste a whole lot better if we had something to wash them down with."
It was an excellent idea and I agreed with her.
And the Slum Goddess said, "If you two are not too choosly in what you drink, perhaps I can fix you up."
The girl in the big, yellow floppy hat produced a paper cup from her tote bag and the Slum Goddess stepped in behind the bushes again. And when she came out, all three of us eagerly drank from the paper cup that she had in her hand. It was warm, but it was wet, and that's how we washed down the rose petals.
Then the three of us locked arms and strode off toward the throbbing sound of distant bongo drums. And we came upon an unexpected happening.
A shapely little Hippie girl was doing a strip-tease to the undulating beat of the bongo drums.
When we walked up, she was already down to her brassiere.
Then she took that off and writhed around stark naked except for her see-through mini-pants.
And while her see-through mini-pants left very little to the imagination, I still felt cheated.
And remembering what they had said to me while I was standing on the block back at Mama Bare's Nudist Colony, just for the hell of it, I said, "Take 'em off, take 'em all off!"
And while most of the Hippie audience turned and looked at me like I was some kind of a pervert, the little dancing girl did exactly what I had told her to do.
She slid the panties down around her hips and let them fall down to her ankles.
I nudged the Slum Goddess and said, "See what I mean, the power of suggestion."
And she nudged me right back and said, "Yeah, the power of suggestion, just like them ad agencies down on Madison Avenue. Talking people into buying a whole lot of shit that they don't really need."
And the beat still goes on.
For this gigantic con game is the very life blood of the American economy.
17
In one way or another, large doses of raw sex always manages to creep into all forms of the Hippie underground communication system. And this is especially true of Hippie underground moving pictures.
Always a slap in the face of established sexual mores, most of these underground movies are never screened except in the little cubbyhole screening places right inside the Hippie community itself. But a few of these cheaply made cinema efforts do succeed in making it to the silver screens of the big, commercial movie houses. Two underground flicks that did make it, were The Chelsea Girls and My Hustler.
Both of these movies were produced by Andy
Warhol, who has made a success out of producing underground moving pictures. But for every Andy Warhol, there is a hundred and one Maxie Gold-mans. And the only place where Maxie Goldman's underground movies got screened with any degree of regularity was usually right in his own little office overlooking Union Square.
I met Maxie through Danny Frizella, the owner of the Dead End Cafe.
And one day, while he was nervously chewing on a big black cigar, Maxie was telling me, "What I need is something that I can promote. Something that is different."
I took another sip of my expresso coffee and said, "Something like what, Maxie?"
He knocked the ashes off his big black cigar and said, "Something like what Danny said you done to that blonde girl the other night. You know, black and white sex, I can promote something like that. Tell me, have you ever done any acting before?"
Now a chance to act in a moving picture, even a moving picture produced by Maxie Goldman, is not something that grows on trees. So there had to be a catoh in it somewhere. And the catch was that I hadn't done no acting before. So even before it got started, my career as a movie actor seemed to be at an abrupt end.
And it was with a heavy heart, that I looked at Maxie and said, "No, Mr. Goldman, I haven't done no acting before."
But my grave concern proved to be totally unwarranted, for Maxie Goldman was perfectly willing to hire an actor who couldn't act. He considered acting one of the minor details of movie making.
And he rolled the big black cigar around in the corner of his mouth and said, "Don't worry too much about not having any acting experience. There wont be too much acting to do now, it'll be mostly fucking, and I'm sure you know how to do that"
Now he was talking my language!
And since the birds and bees know how to do it, I felt reasonably sure that I could do a pretty good job of it myself. And with a little bit of luck, I figured that I might go to Hollywood and fuck my way to stardom. Because, after all, it has happened before. Especially among the pretty little Hollywood starlets. In order for them to get a big part and become a star, they first have to give up a little piece. To some lecherous old producer. Which is precisely just the way that Maxie Goldman latched onto his female star, Miss Rona Roan.
Before Rona Roan became a star in Maxie's motion pictures, she first had to become a star in Maxie's bedroom. And after Rona had becorre a star in Maxie's bedroom, Maxie figured that any girl who was good enough to be a star in his bed chamber was also good enough to be a star in his underground moving pictures.
So now, Maxie Goldman had two stars, Rona Roan and me.
But in order to produce a motion picture, even an underground one, you need a little bit more than just two stars. You also need something called a script And Maxie didn't have no script. But he did have a pretty good idea on where he could get one.
From me!
Yes, Maxie also wanted me to write the script He said, "For the type of thing that I've got in mind, I think that even you can write the script Have you ever written anything before?"
The idea of becoming a double threat in the highly competitive movie business really excited me.
And I tried to impress Maxie with my literary credentials, I said, "Why, yes, Mr. Goldman, I've written a few things before. And some of the things that I've done are almost like movie scripts, too."
"Like what, for instance?"
"Stage plays."
"Stage plays? Then that's funny I've never heard of you. Were any of them ever produced?"
"Why, yes, Mr. Goldman, all of them were produced!"
"Where, off Broadway."
"No.. "
"Then where at, then."
"In reform school."
"In reform school!"
"Yes, that's where I wrote 'em. It was part of my rehabilitation program."
"Well, the Marquis de Sade spent a lot of time behind bars, so maybe you're pretty good, too."
"Well, I think that I can do the job."
"And why not? It's an easy enough thing to do. Just stick to your story line, and number your scenes in sequence, one, two, three, four and so forth. That's all there is to it."
"By the way, when do you want the script ready?"
"Oh, don't worry about it, you've got plenty of time. Just have it in my office by nine o'clock tomorrow morn g, that's plenty time enough. Goodbye now, I'll see you in the morning."
And with those few parting words, Maxie Goldman, the underground movie producer, turned on his heels and walked out of the Dead End Cafe in a cloud of black cigar smoke. His day was obviously done.
And my day, was obviously just beginning.
For I was faced with the Herculean task of writing a complete movie script in less than twenty-four hours. And in context with this little chore, I went into a nearby stationery store' and bought myself something to work with. I bought a half dozen No. 2 pencils and three or four yellow legal-sized writing pads.
Then I went home and started writing.
And since writing requires a little peace and quiet, I was forced to ask the Slum Goddess to cool it with the TV set and record player. But I did let her continue to walk around the place buck naked, since such flimsy attire was closely related to the subject that I was writing about.
Which was mostly fucking.
Skillfully telling the story of an encounter between a white pussy and a black dick. The idea was pregnant with possibilities, and I worked it for all it was worth, taxing my creative ability to the utmost.
Scene number one opened up with a medium close shot looking up between the wide open thighs of a naked white girl. Then it moved in close for a close-up showing a bushy-haired white pussy. And scene number two cut to a shot of a big black dick menacingly closing in on the little white pussy. And scene number three showed the actual penetration. Of course, from then on it was just fuck, fuck, fuck. Both in the pussy hole and in the ass-hole. With plenty of oral action thrown in for good measure.
And since I would have to do all of these wonderful little things to my female co-star, Rona Roan, I could hardly wait for Maxie to start shooting the picture. And the next morning, I arrived at Maxie's office even before he did.
And when he did arrive, I anxiously threw the script down on his desk and breathlessly said, "Well, Maxie, old buddy, here it is!"
The first thing that he did was to look at the title of the piece.
"Black and white," he said. "That's a good title, I can promote that"
Then he leafed through a few of the pages and I could tell by the pleased look on his face that he liked what he saw.
And what he said, confirmed it
He said, "It looks very good, plenty of action and just two people. That'll make it easy for us to stick to the central theme, which is fucking. You fucking Rona."
I was tired of waiting already.
And I said to Maxie, "I'm glad that you like the script, Mr. Goldman, when are we going to start shooting it?"
"Oh, I don't know, maybe tomorrow or the next day."
"Tomorrow or the next day!" To me, that was just entirely too damn long to wait.
So I tried to talk Maxie into speeding up the shooting schedule a little bit, I said, "But Mr. Goldman, the sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish."
I had him on a dime.
Because I knew that he couldn't argue with logic like that ... and he didn't.
He said, "You really do want to get started, don't you? Well, I don't want to kill your enthusiasm for the part, so I'll call Rona and tell her to come right on over. And in the meantime, you can rehearse or something."
And that's exactly what I did ... I rehearsed my part. And by the time Rona walked through the door, I was ready for action. And I was glad that Maxie had the good sense not to waste any time by engaging in unnecessary small talk with Rona.
Right away he led us out of his office and into his studio. Which was still right in his office. You see, Maxie had his little office divided into two parts with a room divider, and he used the back part of the office for his studio. And Maxie's studio equipment wasn't nothing to write home about, either. Mostly it consisted of one eight-millimeter hand camera and a bank of studio lights made up out of three ordinary one-hundred watt bulbs with a strip of aluminum foil for a reflector. And of course, Maxie also had an eight-millimeter movie projector with which to view his works of nude cinema art. All big movie producers have studio facilities for reviewing their work, and Maxie was no exception.
And before he started the Camera rolling, Maxie called me and Rona over to him and gave us his last minute instructions.
He said, "Basically, I'm going to follow the script, but I want to make this thing look like a rape. So, Dave, you'll have to put your pants back on, you won't take 'em off until after you come through that window. Kapish? Okay then, I'll get the props and we can get started."
The props were in a brown paper bag sitting on the floor under the bank of studio lights. And when Maxie gave Roma her prop, I felt just like dying.
The prop was an artificial pussy, and Maxie said to Roma, "Here, honey, take this and put it on."
Now, I knew that Maxie was having an affair with Rona, but I thought that this was downright ridiculous.
And I vigorously protested. "But Maxie, I thought ... "
"You thought what?" he cut in. "That you really were going to fuck her? Nah, Davie boy, that ain't the way we're going to do it. We're going to fake it."
"But that will be cheating on an unsuspecting public!"
"What do you mean by saying something like that? Why that pussy looks so much like a real one, that the public won't even know the difference in the close-ups. And furthermore, faking is the key to all successful movie making. Why do you think the Indians always lose in them cowboy pictures? It's because Hollywood fakes it, that's why."
And Rona's artificial pussy wasn't the only fake thing in Maxie's underground movie.
I wore an artificial dick in it, and Rona also wore a pair of false tits and had a fake ass-hole to boot. From one end to the other, the whole thing was a fake.
But in spite of its fake and fraudery, Maxie succeeded in getting a booking for it-Cinema 69'A, a little theater that specializes in showing eight and sixteen-millimeter underground films, booked it solid for the whole month of April. It opened on the first, and since the first day of April is the traditional day for fooling people, I think that the opening date was altogether fitting and proper.
18
When the cat is away, the mice will play, so goes the old saying. So when the Slum Goddess had to return home to Fallsburg, Massachusetts, to attend the funeral of her dead mother, I took advantage of her absence with a vengeance.
Fucking everything that I could lay my hands on, and I laid my hands onto many a one.
Both black ones and white ones.
And I even looked around for a little green one to complete my color scheme. But little green ones, you can't hardly find any of them anymore. Because nowadays, they're pretty experienced by the time they're twelve years old.
But I didn't have no trouble in finding plenty of black ones, though. For some strange reason, I attracted them just like honey draws flies.
And one Thursday morning, while I was standing on the corner watching the micro mini-skirts go by, a fine looking black wencb wiggled up to me and said, "Hey, mistah, is dis heah place Hippie-land?"
Yuk yuk and hee hee, hey mistah is dis heah place hippieland, right away I knew that I had a little Southern dumkin on my hands. An easy mark for a fast talking New Yorker like me ... that's what I thought.
So with all the confidence of a cop in the station-house, I answered her question and slyly offered to act as her guide in Hippieland. And with all the innocence of a little lamb being led to the slaughter, she accepted my sneaky offer.
Why she even thanked me for it.
Saying. "Most Noo Yawkahs won't even give you da time of day. and heah you is willing to waste yo valuable time by showin me around. You is a good man, Charlie Brown, and ah feels safe wid you."
"My name is not Charlie Brown."
"It ain't?"
"No, my name is David."
"It is? Damn if you don't look jus lak dat Charlie Brown. But David is a bible name, now ah knows dat ah kin trust you. So start showin me around, Charlie Brown."
And with cold calculation, I started showing her around. Taking her to Second Avenue and walking south. With each step we took, putting us one step closer to my pad. And while I was busy tricking her, I suddenly remembered that while I had told her my name, she hadn't told me hers. So I asked her.
And she said, "Otharee, Otharee White, dat's what mah name is."
Well she certainly was the blackest White that rd ever seen. There wasn't no doubt about that. like for instance, Marlene White wasn't nearly so black. Marlene White was white. But Otharee White was living proof that black can sometimes be white, and white can sometimes be black. Which clearly proves that things are not always what they seem to be. An Sxhibit A of this strange paradox was Otharee herself. Because at first, she seemed like an easy fuck, but just as soon as she set foot in my pad I found out different.
She said, "Now you put you pants back on, Charlie Brown, you said dat we wuz gonna lissen to records and talk and dat's exactly what we gonna do."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I was only trying to speed things up a little bit."
"Den you bettah speed up dat dam record player, den. Becuz dat record is supposed to be played at 45 and you is playin it at 33."
That's how hot and bothered I was.
But I managed to pull myself together enough to adjust the speed on the record player, and then I asked her if she wanted a drink. Hoping to lower her resistance that way.
And she said, "Yeah, ah'll take a Pepsi Cola if you got one."
No, I didn't have a Pepsi, but I did have a Coke. So I got her one and prepared myself for a long siege. And since she wanted to talk, I started talking. Probing her about little things like where she lived. I thought that she lived in Harlem, but she didn't She lived way up in Westchester County in the town of Larchmont, which is where the rich white folks live. And since Otharee was neither rich nor white, I wanted to know how come.
"What are you doing living way up there? If they catch a Nigger in Larchmont without a passport they'll shoot him."
"Yeah, ah knows dat but ah lives up dere wid rrrah madame."
"With your madame? Then why in the hell are you holding out on me?"
"No, not dat kinda madame, ah means da lady dat ah works for."
"A sleep-in job, is that what you got?"
"Dat's right. Da employment agency sent me straight dere from Alabama. It's da only place dat ah've evah lived in Noo Yawk."
"What is your madame's name and how old is she?"
"She's about twentyeight or thirty, and her name is Mrs. Bradshaw, Mrs. Buffy Bradshaw. Her husband works heah in Noo Yawk, down on Wall Street."
"So he's a commuter, hah?"
"Yeah, he communes back and forth each day. And do you know what?"
"No, tell me. What?"
"Ah thinks dat Mrs. Bradshaw laks cullud men, becuz she's got pictures of Sammy Davis, Jr. and Harry Belafonte all over da place. And ah kin tell you something else, too. She's always askin me if it's true dat all cullud men got big dicks ... and she says dat she's gonna find out for herself wunna dese days."
19
In order not to be late in arriving at Mrs. Brad-shaw's house, the next morning I rushed over to Grand Central Station and waited around for a couple of hours for the 9:05 commuter train to leave the station for Larchmont. I was the only Nigger on the train, and since I was, I became the butt of all the jokes.
Especially from two bank-er-type gentlemen who were sitting in the comer of the car.
Now of course, I wasn't altogether surprised at being made the victim of their verbal sport. For I knew full well that such things do happen. And since the forewarned is forearmed, I had taken a few precautions to prevent such a thing from happening.
For one thing, I had bought myself a copy of the Wall Street Journal.
And my strategy in buying a copy of the Wall Street Journal was to make myself look just like one of them.
But it didn't work.
The damn thing backfired on me just like an Australian boomerang.
One of the Wall Street bankers spotted me reading it and casually said to his friend, "Bill, since when did the Journal start carrying quotation on the price of chitterlings and hog maws?"
Bill turned up his hole cards and said, "A full house! Now, Joe, what was that you were saying about the quotations in the Journal?"
"I said since when did they start carrying quotations about the price of chitterlings and hog maws?"
"To my knowledge, they don't, Joe."
Joe pointed a well manicured finger at me and said, "Then if they don't, why in the hell is he reading it then?"
Bill looked at me and said, "Who can tell, he might be some kind of a business tycoon or something."
"A business tycoon, did you say?"
"That's right, you can't judge a book by its cover, you know."
"Well, Bill, there might be some merit in what you say, but with a cover the color of him, I'd have to say that instead of being a business TY-coon, he's just a plain ordinary coon."
"My gawd, Joe, you better stop laughing at him! He might be going out to the club to caddy this afternoon, and if you make him mad, he'll give us a hard time sure as hell."
"What, him caddy? No, he doesn't look like the type."
"And do you know what? On second thought, he doesn't look like the type to me either."
"No, I reckon he don't. Instead of working around holes on a golf course, I think you'd be more-likely to find him working around holes with hair growing around 'em."
They couldn't have been more right!
Because I had every intention of working around Mrs. Bradshaw's hairy hole, if I got half a chance. And furthermore, I also intended to make her little white ass pay for the humiliation that I was going through. Through her pussy and ass-hole, I intended to get my revenge. And if revenge is sweet, how much more so, if that revenge is meted out to a little white pussy and a pretty little ass-hole? Just the thought of it worked wonder for me.
And by the time the train pulled into the station at Larchmont, I had a big fat hard on and a pair of aching balls.
But relief and revenge was just a short taxi ride away.
At 169 Rockefeller Road.
And when I knocked on the door, Mrs. Bradshaw herself answered it. And this surprised me, because I had expected to see little black Otaree. But no, the lady of the house did this little chore, and right away I was standing face to face with her.
And instead of looking like a typical suburban housewife, she looked just like a real swinger!
One that's ready for some action.
She had on one of the shortest mini-skirts that I'd ever seen, and for added sex appeal, she had on a pair of leg-hugging white leather boots that came up over her knees.
And she was also just a little bit drunk. Not staggering drunk, but definitely she was a little bit high. It was easy for me to tell, because her breath smelled like Vat 69.
And with her mouth crinkled into a funny little smile, she said, "You must be Charlie Brown, Otharee told me about you."
I nodded my head in the affirmative, but I answered her in the negative, I said, "No," I'm not Charlie Brown."
"Then who are you?"
"I'm the guy that Otharee told you about."
"Okay, then come on in."
I went inside and followed her into the living room. But we didn't stay in the living room very long.
Standing with her legs spread wide apart, she put her hands on her hips and said, "Would you like something to drink, Charlie Brown?"
And once again I nodded my head in the affirmative, and answered her in the negative.
And she said, "Then follow me, the bar is down in the basement."
I followed her down into the basement and she went in behind the bar and started playing bartender.
"What'll you have," she said, "Bourbon on the rocks is my favorite."
"Then, I'll have the same."
She fixed the drinks, and then motioned me towards one of two leather easy chairs.
Saying, "Lets sit over there, it's better than sitting on the stools."
And not only was it better than sitting on the stools, it was also much better for me to look up her dress. Something which I eagerly did, and in the process, I saw that she had her fucking pants on. The kind with the slit in the crotch. And the hair on her pussy was almost as red as the hair on her head.
Then we tinkled glasses and started drinking.
I downed mine in one gulp.
And she looked at me in amazement and said, "Hell, I ain't no slow poke, either."
Downing hers just like I had mine.
Then she got up and fixed two more.
Which we downed just like the first ones. But don't worry though, we didn't over do it by a long shot. We drank the third ones real slow like, and got to know each other a little bit better. And as an aid in getting acquainted, there is nothing better than ample quantities of good liquor. Why in less than ten minutes, I was calling her Buffy instead of Mrs. Bradshaw, and she was still calling me Charlie Brown. And our conversation had reached a stage of open frankness.
She said, "Otharee told me that you were a Hippie, and I told her that maybe you were just being natural because Colored people always did live like Hippies. Don't you think so?"
"No comment, but keep on talking."
"Okay, I will. Well, are you a Hippie or not?"
"No, not really, but I do live among them though."
"Then how do you like 'em?"
"How do I like 'em? Well, I like 'em clean better than I do dirty."
"So do most other people."
"But I will say this for them though, they are really sincere in their anti-ward feelings. They hate war for what it is, nothing but an organized waste of human life. And for holding these noble sentiments, they are paid in the bitter coin of scorn and ridicule. Yet, they continue to stand up and cry out against the folly of war and its evil makers. And considering the terrible price that they pay, perhaps the heroes of the war in Viet Nam are not the poor unfortunate boys who die up at the front, but ... "
And right here, in the middle of a sentence, my little monologue was interruped by the ringing of Mrs. Bradshaw's telephone. And for a minute or two, I lost the lovely company of my charming and attentive hostess. She went up into the living room to answer the telephone, and since there was an extension right down in the bar, I concluded that she didn't want me to overhear the conversation.
And when she did come back, she said, "It was only the butcher ... I thought that it might be Otharee."
So she thought that it might be Otharee, huh?
Well, this kind of thinking on her part, prompted me to ask her, "By the way, Mrs. Bradshaw, just where is Otharee?"
And without even as much as batting one of her long eyelashes, she matter-of-factly replied, "Oh, I sent her to Tarrytown with Pet Pet that's my little three year old daughter, and they won't be back until about four o'clock."
"Then that means I won't get to see Otharee, then."
"No, you won't. And that's exactly why I sent her to Tarrytown in the first place. She told me that you were coming, and I wanted to have you all to myself. Now ain't that bitchy of me?"
"Well, if she knew why you sent her, I'm sure that Otharee would think so."
"Oh, Otharee, now you just forget about that little black thing. Anything that she can do, I can do a whole lot better ... and that includes fucking, too."
"Did you say that includes Fucking."
"That's what I said."
"Okay then, put your pussy where your mouth is and prove it to me."
"Okay, but first I want to ask you something."
"What?"
"Have you ever fucked a white woman before."
"Yes, I have."
"Then that spoils everything, because I wanted it to be the first time for both of us, both you and me. That would make it better, but now, I'll just be another piece of white ass to you and not something special. But don't worry, I know how to jazz it up, though!"
"How?"
"I'll make you rape me!"
"Then why are you taking your clothes off?"
"To make it easy for you."
And in an instant she was standing in front of me buck naked, and just as quickly she was gone.
She bounded up the basement steps and called back down to me, "When you finish getting undressed, you'll have to come and find me!"
I looked up and the last thing that I saw of her was a fleeting glimpse of her white ass shaking as she hit the last step. And just as soon as I had finished getting undressed, the search of the ten-room house.
20
I tried the bedroom first
Hoping that she would surprise me and be laying in bed with her legs spread apart, just waiting for me to hop on top of her.
But she wasn't.
Next I tried the bedroom closets. And still no luck.
Then I went downstairs into the living room. And there she was.
Crouching down behind a chair, with a bare white shoulder sticking out That's how I spotted her.
I dashed over to the chair and made a diving lunge for her. Grabbing her by the shoulder, but she eluded my grasp by twisting away. Then she ran out into the kitchen with me hot on her tail. She had neatly trapped herself. There was no way out!
So I took my big dick into my hand and advanced towards her.
And she backed herself up into a corner and started pleading.
"Oh, no, please don't."
But I kept right on coming at her.
And she kept right on pleading.
"Oh, no, please don't! Let's go upstairs and do it in the bed."
No, we didn't go upstairs and do it in the bed.
Instead, we went over to the kitchen table and done it there.
She bent over and I slammed my big dick into her. Without giving the slightest thought to which hole I had it in. But by the unholy way that she screamed, rigt away I knew that it was her tight little ass-hole that I was tangling with. It was like an irresistible force trying to move an immovable object. But with a mighty heave of my pelvis, I finally succeeded in penetrating it. And then, wham, wham, wham, and wham! Four times I rammed my dick into her so far that my balls smacked up against the quivering cheeks of her ass. And each time, she begged the dear lord for deliverance.
But it wasn't no use.
For I was getting my revenge, and oh Sweet Jesus, what sweet revenge it was, too. And after my fourth pile-driving thrust into her rectum, I rent the air with a mighty cry of vengeance, "Now that's three for them dirty bastards on the commuter train, and one for luck!"
And then, after I had gotten due satisfaction for the insults that I had endured on the train that morning, I settled down and gave Mrs. Bradshaw's little white ass the tender loving care that it so rightly deserved. I withdrew my big black dick from it, and gently kissed it with my two lips. And in order to atone for the terrible hurt that I had inflicted on her ass-hole, I placed her up on top of the table and lowered my head down between her soft white thighs and started eating her hairy pussy.
Then I slid the tip of my tongue down from the hairy lips of her bushy thing and started tickling her little pink ass-hole.
And she arched her back into a slow rising curve and moaned a long. "Ooooooh, Charlie Brown, this is the best feeling in the whole world."
But when I brought my big dick into play, she stopped moaning and started grunting and groaning. Each time that I drove it into her, I stretched her pussy almost to the breaking point. And it hurt her. But she endured the pain, and after two or three minutes she was working with me.
Up and down and around and around. Around and around and up and down. With her upward strokes meeting my downward strokes head-on. And that's the way that it went until our violently pumping bodies had christened the table top in a simultaneous orgasm.
Then I went after Mrs. Bradshaw's ass-hole again.
Reaming it out with my strong dick.
And just like when I got her the first time, for the ass-hole fucking both of us stood on the floor. With Mrs. Bradshaw leaning over on the kitchen table, and me standing in back of her. And since I had opened her up earlier, this time I didn't have much trouble in working it into her all the way up to my balls. Of course, she still screamed and hollered like hell while I was wrecking her rectum, but that was to be expected. And I didn't let it interfere one little bit with my back-door operation. And furthermore, I like to hear women holler and scream when I fuck them, then I know that I am the boss of the situation. Which is the way that it ought to be. And anytime the man doesn't control things, he's doing a pretty poor job of fucking. In a word or two, he's a poor fuck, sc to speak.
But at the same time, I was fully aware that too much ass-hole fucking can be very harmful to a woman who is not used to taking it up the ass. So I fucked her accordingly. I only reamed out Mrs. Bradshaw's ass-hole for about an hour and a half, at the most.
Then we stopped fucking and started sucking.
Sucking each other.
I climbed up onto the kitchen table and flopped down on my back, and Mrs. Bradshaw climbed up on top of me in a kneeling head-to-toe position. And looked just like a little white Six kneeling over when she draped her white ass in my face, she a big black nine. And that's how we rung down the curtain at the end of a perfect fucking day.
And after it was all over, Mrs. Bradshaw thoughtfully offered to drive me back to the city in her brand new T-Bird. In order for me to avoid the kind of humiliation that I had gone through on the Larchmont commuter train that morning.
Of course, I didn't hesitate to accept her generous offer.
Especially since it meant that I would come breezing back into Hippieland riding in a brand new T-Bird with a pretty little redhead for a chauffeur.
Which is some pretty nice work if you can get it ... and I got it without even trying.
21
Although Mrs. Bradshaw was definitely one of the swinging kind, she was still cool enough not to let her Larchmont neighbors see her riding a Nigger around in her brand new T-Bird.
She stuck a twenty dollar bill into the palm of my hand and said, "Here, take this and take a taxi to the edge of town. I'D pick you up there, on Route-One."
I took the twenty, gave her a little peck on the cheek and left.
And I didn't have no trouble at all in finding a taxi to take me to my destination. Since I was getting my black ass out of town, the taxi driver was more than happy to oblige me. It's the incoming Niggers that they worry about Especially since the
Mayor of the town has started a campaign to keep Larchmont beautiful.
But in spite of the fact that it was easy for me to get to the edge of town, I still had a few moments of bother and worriation. And this was due to the fact that it appeared like Mrs. Bradshaw might be playing some kind of a joke on me. She was a little bit late in showing up.
For more than fifteen minutes, I stood in the shade of a big oak tree beside UjS. Route One and waited for her.
And another fifteen minutes later, I was still standing under the oak tree waiting for Mrs. Bradshaw. And since standing under an oak tree is not my idea of having fun, I decided to sit under it.
Then, all of a sudden I got a much better idea.
And I laid down under the oak tree. Which was the best position of all.
In fact, it felt so doggone good that I soon dozed off.
And started to dream.
And in defense of all people who are afflicted with this incurable malady, I respectfully set down the following little poem. Which I appropriately entitle "The Dreamer." Well, here it is:
Do not mock, nor look upon the dreamer with scorn, For it is from abstract dreams, that concrete things are born.
Concrete things like the Empire State Building, for instance. For one must never lose sight of the fact, that before this magnificent edifice became a thing of reality, It was just a dream in the mind of the architect who designed it.
But all good things must come to an end, and so did my sweet dream.
I was rudely jolted awake by the incessant beep-beeping of an automobile horn. The kind of beep-beep that the Road Runner makes, but it wasn't no Road Runner making the beep. It was a brand new T-Bird and Mrs. Bradshaw was sitting behind the wheel of it.
So I hopped into the car and asked her, "How come the beep-beep on this thing?"
And just like water rolling off the back of a duck, she glibly replied, "The T-Bird and the Road Runner are birds of a feather, and birds of a feather always beep-beep together."
"Oh, so that's it, huh?"
"Yep, that's it"
"Okay, now tell me what took you so long?"
"Otharee did. She called me on the phone and wanted to know if you showed up."
"And what did you tell her?"
"Naturally, I told her no. Don't you think that was the decent thing to do?"
"Under the circumstances, yes."
"Good, I'm glad that you agree with me, now I feel a whole lot better. Oh no, now cut that shit out, not while I'm driving!"
"I was only checking to see if you felt better."
"Well, do I?"
"Nope, to my touch your fat little pussy feels just like it did this morning."
"Anyway, don't be playing with it while Pm driving."
"And why not."
"Because it's dangerous, stupid, that's why."
"So what the hell, danger is my middle name."
"Oh, it is huh? Okay, then watch this! Wheeee, look ma, no hands."
"Come on now, we're doing over seventy!"
"See that, you chickened out, I knew you would, just like my husband. One day I was doing almost ninety and I really scared the shit out of him."
"Do you know what, I think a good pair of handcuffs might break you of that no-hands habit. Hey, where does that little road up there lead to?"
"That little road up there doesn't lead to anywhere in particular. It's a lover's lane ... but don't get any ideas."
"I'm sorry about that, but I've already got 'em."
"Oh, you've already got 'em, huh? Okay, then let's do it."
She pulled the T-Bird up into the little tree-covered lane and parked it. Making sure that it was in far enough from the highway to conceal us from the prying eyes of passing motorists. Then we started to do our thing.
First, we tried to do it in the back of the car, but the cramped quarters of the little T-Bird didn't give us enough room to thrash about in. Especially since Mrs. Bradshaw liked to fuck big. So she took a blanket out of the trunk of the car and we laid down right beside it
Warming her up, I buried my face down into her bushy crotch and said, "Do you know what, baby? Your pussy is so edible that it's down-right incredible. Why it's even better than raw hamburger."
She giggled and said, "That's what I keep telling my husband, that it's a gourmet's delight. But he's so finicky about what he eats, he-likes his mother's cooking. And if it is not hers, he won't hardly eat it"
Well, I wasn't finicky about eating it, and Mrs. Bradshaw got so carried away that she closed her plump thighs and almost smothered me to death. And if I hadn't of pinched her on the ass, I am almost certain that it would have been the end of me. It was a close call, much too close for comfort, and right away I stopped sucking her and started fucking her.
Fucking her dog-fashion.
And to add a touch of realism to the thing, both of us made the sounds that real dogs make when they fuck. I barked and growled like a boy dog, while Mrs. Bradshaw whined like a satisfied bitch.
But this time, I didn't touch Mrs. Bradshaw's ass-hole. I figured that she had had enough of that for one day, so after I had finished fucking her in the pussy hole, we got back into the car and continued on our way into Fun City.
And Mrs. Bradshaw soon discovered that she had a little problem.
She had ants in her pants.
Which is one of the risks that you run when you fuck on the ground in the summertime. But she solved the problem with neatness and dispatch, though.
She did what comes naturally.
While still driving the car, she wiggled out of her panties and flung them out of the car window. A brand new pair of red panties.
But fortunately, they didn't go to waste.
They got caught in a slipstream of swirling air and the wind blew them right into the window of the car in back of us.
The driver of the car was a gray-haired man about sixty or sixty-five, and he snatched them up and started sniffing them just like a boy dog sniffs the pussy of a girl dog when he's getting ready to fuck her. And a great big lustful grin split his face from ear to ear.
He had himself a nice little souvenir.
And Mrs. Bradshaw was still laughing about it when we turned off Route One and hit Bfuckner Boulevard. The traffic was heavy, but the little T-Bird negotiated it like a racing car on the Indianapolis Speedway. Weaving in and out between the bigger cars with the greatest of ease. And when we got on the FDR Drive, it ate up the last few miles just like Whirlaway coming down the stretch.
Finally, Mrs. Bradshaw pulled the T-Bird up in front of 435 East Tenth Street. In front of the house where I lived.
I wanted to show her my pad, so we piled out of the car and went inside. Into the pissy vestibule and up the litter-strewn stairs. And when I opened the door to my apartment, compared to the vestibule and the rest of the place, my pad looked like the Waldorf-Astoria. Everything was neat and in its place, I even had my mantelpiece neatly decorated with a pretty picture of the Slum Goddess. It was sitting right beside my statue of Phil the Phallus.
But it was the picture of the Slum Goddess that caught Mrs. Bradshaw's eye.
It seemed to shake her up, and she heatedly demanded, "Now, Charlie Brown, tell me something, and tell me the truth! Where did you get that picture?"
She was getting jealous, that's what I thought.
But nevertheless, I still told her the truth, I said, "My old lady gave it to me, the girl that lives with me."
She almost fainted and said, "Why, I don't believe it ... because that's a picture of my very own sister!"
22
As it turned out, the Slum Goddess was Mrs. Bradshaw's baby sister. And just like most of the other girls in Hippieland, she was a runaway from a well-to-do middle class home. Not from Mrs. Bradshaw's home in Larchmont, but from the home of their mother, up in Fallsburg, Massachusetts.
And knowing that the Slum Goddess was out of touch with all her kinfolk, Mrs. Bradshaw wanted to know how she knew that their mother was dead.
I went into the bedroom and got a copy of the Fallsburg Times and showed her.
Pointing to the Births and Deaths column, I said, "This is how she knew, here it is right here. Everyday she went up to the out-of-town newsstand in Times Square, and bought a copy of the Times.
That's how she kept in touch with Fallsburg."
Under the extraordinary circumstances, I expected Mrs. Bradshaw to break down and star crying, but she didn't. She maintained her suburban composure and discussed the situation with the same measure of coolness that she would have shown had she been talking about the weather.
Referring to her sister, she looked at their mother's death notice and said, "Well, at least she had the decency to go to the funeral."
And before I could check myself, I blurted out, "Now that's a helluva thing for you to say, since you didn't even go to the funeral yourself. You did know about it, didn't you?"
"Yes, I knew about it," she said. "I got a telegram the same day that she died. But I can't stand funerals..."
"Not even your own mother's?"
"No, not even my own mother's. I went to my father's funeral last year, and I couldn't get it out of my mind for over a month. Why, I even dreamed about it when I was sleeping. Nightmares night after night"
"Then why didn't your husband go?"
"Because you don't take time off from Wall Street to go running around to funerals!"
Depending on how you looked at it, I guess Mrs. Bradshaw presented a pretty valid argument. But for me, I just couldn't buy it And I felt that it was both ironic and sorrowful, that between the two of them, only the Slum Goddess attended their mother's funeral. Because, after all. the blonde Slum Goddess was the black sheep of the family. She was the one who had run away from home.
And that's what Mrs. Bradshaw wanted to know next, when was the. Slum Goddess coming back home to our Tenth Street pad. "Today or tomorrow?"
"Well, the funeral was supposed to be this morning."
"How long has she been gone."
"Three days already."
"Three days already, then if she loves New York like you say she does, then she probably will be back either tonight or tomorrow."
"By the way, how come she's a blonde and you're a redhead?"
"Oh no, she's not a real blonde, she's a redhead, too. She's got you fooled."
"If she's got me fooled, then how come she's blonde on both ends?"
"She bleached them too, that's how come."
"Well, I've heard that blondes have more fun, but I think that's ridiculous. Don't you think so, too?"
"No, not really, I don't. Because I never did like mismatched tops and bottoms."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. All of my pajamas are the same color too."
"Hey, tell me something, she's not pregnant or anything like that, is she."
"Nope, she takes the Pill."
"Well, the Pills are okay, but you would be better off if she wore a gold diaphragm. Because then you'd come into money and be a very rich man."
Mrs. Bradshaw's sly humor was interrupted by a loud knock on the apartment door, and both of us started hollering all at once.
"Maybe it's your sister!"
"So hurry and open the door, stupid, I'm almost dying to see her!"
"No, you qpen it, and surprise her."
"Do you really want me to?"
"Sure, go ahead and see who it is."
Well, it wasn't the Slum Goddess right in person, but it was the Western Union messenger boy with a telegram from the Slum Goddess.
And with trembling hands, I hurriedly ripped open the yellow envelope.
"It's from her!" I hollered, "She's coming in tonight on the 10:15! Can you wait until she gets here?"
"Why of course I can, you damn fool, I'll call my husband and tell him what happened. That I found my little sister!"
"Now don't make a mistake and tell your husband about me."
"I won't, stupid, so don't worry. I won't even mention your name."
"Then that's good, because I know that if Mr. Bradshaw ever found out that I was fucking his sister-in-law too, he would get mad sure as hell."
And with all of the friction between the whites and the blacks, I did not want to be guilty of adding more fuel to the fire by getting Mr. Bradshaw mad at me.
23
Now while I am not some kind of a technological nut, I do appreciate a few of the modern conveniences that present day technology has given us. And since I am of this turn of mind, my apartment was a little bit different from most of the other Hippie pads in the East Village. Mine had a telephone.
And since it did, Mrs. Bradshaw was able to call her husband right from my pad instead of having to go out into the street and use a pay phone.
I was in the bathroom taking a shower when she made the call, and after she had finished, she came into the bathroom and told me about it. When she peeped her head into the bathroom door, I was toweling myself off, and the friction from the towel had made my dick get hard. And without saying a word, Mrs. Bradshaw got down on her knees and kissed the head of it.
Then she got up and said, "That's a goodbye kiss, I've got to go now. My husband said that if I want to spend some time with my sister, I should invite her out to the house and then we can spend all of the time we want together."
I was bitterly disappointed.
And I asked Mrs. Bradshaw, "Then when are you going to see her, then?"
"Tomorrow." she said. "I'll drive down to the city after my husband goes to work. But don't tell my sister that I'm coming though. I want to surprise her!"
And just like that, Mrs. Bradshaw was gone.
I felt so bad that I could've taken a straight razor and cut my throat. But I didn't though. Instead of cutting my throat. I got dressed and cut out of my pad and shot up Second Avenue to the 14th Street subway station.
And that's how I went to Grand Central station to pick up the Slum Goddess. Riding on a Lexington Avenue subway train. And that's exactly how we came back, too. Riding on a Lexington Avenue subway train. And since too much train riding has a tendency to wear one down, I suggested that we stop into the Dead End Cafe and refreshen ourselves with some of their delicious espresso coffee. The very same kind of espresso coffee that the Colombian natives bribe Senor Exigente with on those TV commercials. Which is pretty good stuff, good enough to satisfy even the most exacting coffee inspector.
And in the Dead End, we ran into Maxie Goldman, the underground movie producer.
I playfully punched Maxie in his fat belly and said, "Hey Maxie, the next time no more fake pussies and no more fake ass-holes, hah."
He slid his big black cigar into the corner of his mouth, slapped the Slum Goddess across her ass, and said, "If I ever use a real ass-hole in one of my pictures, it's going to be that one. My God, Davie, but she sure is built!"
"Yeah, Maxie, I know. That's why I call her the Goddess."
And since I didn't like Maxie's reckless hands, I quickly steered the apple of his eye to an empty table. Where we drank our espresso coffee in peace. And while we were busy drinking our coffee in peace, I was even busier thinking about the piece that I was going to get from the Slum Goddess when we got home.
So we didn't tarry too long in the Dead End after we had finished drinking our coffee. We watched a couple of the Go-Go dancers shake their stuff, and left just as soon as they had shook their last shake.
And while we were walking down Second Avenue, we bumped into Mr. Doocey, our building superintendent.
"Hiya Acey, want us to help you home?", the Slum Goddess asked him.
As usual, Mr. Doocey was so drunk that he could hardly pick one foot up before the other.
So I grabbed one of his arms and the Slum Goddess grabbed the other one and the three of us finally staggered home.
We helped Mr. Doocey into his apartment and then we went up to our own.
I unlocked the apartment door and went straight to the John to take an overdue crap, while the Slum Goddess went into the bedroom to get herself undressed.
And before I had time to shit the first turd, I heard the Slum Goddess scream.
And she come running into the bathroom yelling, "You didn't close the window by the fire escape and there's a naked woman lying on the bed!"
"Well, who in the hell is it?"
"I don't know, I didn't have time to turn on the lights."
"Then go turn 'em on and see who it is for Christ's sake."
She ran back into the bedroom and turned on the lights and started screaming even louder than before.
"My god, it's my sister!" she screamed.
And without even bothering to take my shit, I pulled up my pants and ran into the bedroom to see if it really was Mrs. Bradshaw.
It was!
And she was laying on the bed just as naked as a jaybird and laughing just like a happy hyena.
And in between laughs, she kept sluneking, "Surprise! Surprise!"
Then she and the Slum Goddess flew into each other's arms and started hugging and kissing each other like a couple of sex-starved lesbians.
And after they had finished greeting each other, I asked Mrs. Bradshaw, "How did you get back in? Through the fire escape?"
"No, I came in through the door."
"But I locked it, I know I did."
"Yes, you did lock it, but I picked the lock with a hairpin."
"New just where In the hell did you learn to pick locks?"
"My father was a locksmith, and I learned a few tricks of the trade from him."
"But what about your husband? You told me that he told you to come straight home."
"That was only a lie. I wanted to surprise both of you."
"Well, you sure as hell succeeded alright But why are you so naked?"
"So that the three of us can celebrate the family reunion. Is that alright with you, Little Sister?"
The Slum Goddess said, "If it was anybody else but you, Big Sister, I would say no and scratch their eyes out! But since it is you, I say yes, let's have ourselves a ball with this little Nigger."
And in less than ten seconds, the Slum Goddess was stark naked laying on the bed beside her naked sister. Both of them had their legs spread wide apart, and I advanced towards them with my dick in my hand trying to make up my mind about which one to fuck first
Man, that's the story of my whole life-decisions, decisions!
