Professor Neubarth settled himself deeper into the stained, overstuffed sofa. He tried to close his ears to the clanging music, and to the shrieks of gaiety around him. It had been a mistake to come to this party; he was sure of that now. He tried to avert his face even more completely from the madly pulsating groups of people who were doing some kind of dance in front of the couch, and indeed, in all parts of the room.
What lapse of one's logical processes might induce a solidly married, forty-five-year-old college instructor to attend one of these idiotic affairs? He thought about it, remembering how one of his students, Marnie Croft, had knocked at the door of his office early that afternoon. He had just returned from a lengthy coffee-drinking session in the teacher's lounge, and was thinking about correcting the exam papers from his English 1A class. When he heard that rapping sound on his door, he had responded immediately by calling, "Come in!" He was secretly eager to postpone his duties for as long as possible.
Marnie Croft was a junior, and he had her in his American Literature class. She was tall, about five feet eight, had dark brown hair that had been bobbed into a pageboy cut, and her figure was simply incredible. As she had entered the room, his eyes had riveted almost automatically on her blouse. The size of Marnie's breasts were, Professor Neubarth suspected, the subject of continual panted whispers and sidelong leers among the male students. Her breasts filled every blouse or dress he had seen her in almost to the bursting point.
On that occasion, she had come in almost apologetically, and at his invitation, had sat down in an armless wicker chair near the wall to his right. Her entire blouse had moved upward, then dropped dramatically downward as she took her seat. He couldn't remove his eyes from the flowered fabric, behind which the heavy flesh continued to sway about even after she had been seated for a minute or two.
"Well, Marnie. What can I do for you?" He lifted his eyes, reluctantly, to meet those of the girl.
She was looking at him questioningly. He felt a flush start, then recede before it could have caused his face to become noticeably reddened.
"I'm worried about that essay I wrote for you, Professor Neubarth. I just don't think I took enough time with it." Her tone was subdued, and she spoke rapidly, as though she were eager to confess her supposed incapable handling of the essay material.
"Oh, Marnie," he said with a smile, "I don't think you have to worry about your work. Everything I've seen of yours has been written excellently. You're a very intelligent girl."
Her face exploded into a wide grin. She murmured her thanks for his compliment and, relaxing, crossed her legs. He saw the dark top of her stocking and an inch or two of white thigh which had been exposed by her legs' angle under the short skirt. His mind clicked like something mechanical as his imagination played with questions of whether her pants were black or white, and what color the thatch beneath the silken covering might be. Most probably dark brown, like her short hair, he decided. How revolting, he thought. He passed his hands before his eyes, and settled back in his desk chair.
"I really came here," she said, "to ask if you might be interested in coming to a little gathering we're having this evening." She hurried on: "We're going to get together, myself and several of my friends, and talk about the new French novel � you know, Robbe-Grillet, Pinget, and the like. We really would love to have you there." She smiled at him.
Now, here is a problem, thought Professor Neubarth. He was aware that most of his students probably thought him an instructor of almost Olympian detachment. He had done nothing to dissuade them from thinking so. In fact, he had rarely indulged in any sort of conversation that was not directly in line with his lecture material. He suddenly realized that Marnie was only the third or fourth student to visit him in his office all term. He looked at her. She was smiling, her lips curled away from her very white teeth. My God, he thought, I'm only forty-five.
"Very well, Marnie. I'd be most happy to attend your ... gathering."
She jumped up, and her breasts jumped in a separate motion and bobbed violently. He felt his throat tighten.
"That's wonderful, Professor Neubarth." She said exuberantly. "We'll have tea and cupcakes, and maybe even cocktails. Eight o'clock. 414 Oak Street, apartment two. Okay?"
He nodded as she departed with a little wave of her hand, grinning rapturously. He remained seated after she had left, thinking about his decision. Surely it wouldn't do him any harm to be convivial for a change. He thought of Marnie's burgeoning young body, of how her buttocks had jutted against her skirt as she had left the office. He thought of Louise, his wife, and envisioned her undressing for bed, partly concealed behind their bedroom closet door. Her breasts are like beanbags, he thought. And she doesn't have much of an ass at all anymore. He glanced at his watch. Almost time for the next class. He gathered up his papers, stuffed them into his briefcase, and headed for the door.
So here I am, he thought. He looked around, peering through the gaps caused by the crowd's constantly milling activity. Marnie was nowhere to be seen, and her bodily construction was distinctive enough to make her identifiable even if only partly glimpsed. Suddenly, on his left, he heard the words, "Professor Neubarth." He looked up to see Marnie standing just beside him, holding two drinks. She offered him one and he accepted it, motioning with his glass a request for her to sit down beside him. She sat down and began to speak rapidly. "Oh, I'm sorry. I really didn't know that all these people would be here tonight. My roommate arranged a party without telling me about it." She looked like she had had a little too much to drink. Her hair was disheveled, and the top two buttons of her blouse were undone. Neubarth could see the foothills of her great breasts beginning almost at her collarbone, and swelling out downward until they finally disappeared behind the cloth of her still confining blouse. Looking at that blouse, he saw the little knots of her nipples pressing the cloth still further out beyond the colossal mounds of her breasts. She wears no bra, he thought. Surely she must realize how unusually proportioned she is, and how freely the lack of a bra will cause her breasts to vibrate with her movement.
Neubarth sipped his drink. It was straight bourbon. He drank only scotch and soda, so he sat the glass on the floor. He was about to turn back towards Marnie when a mighty blast of music shook the room. He looked in her direction anyway, to see that she had collapsed back against the cushions with her eyes closed. He glanced towards the origin of the musical outburst. Someone had moved the kitchen table out into the middle of the living room floor, and a girl, assisted by a dozen hands, was struggling to climb on top. She made it and stood up, just as a record that had just been placed on the stereo began a slow, lilting, and very suggestive rendition of "Fever." She swayed slowly from side to side, in time with the music, and, smiling broadly, touched the buttons of her dress.
Neubarth scooped up his previously rejected whiskey glass and moved forward, elbowing aside members of the tightly packed audience, until he stood against the table edge itself. The girl was directly before and above him. Her dress was unbuttoned down to her navel now, and she wore no slip. Neubarth swallowed a mouthful of bourbon, scarcely noticing its strong, sweet taste. A large mustachioed fellow beside him was yelling, "Off ... off ... off!" over and over again, and the others were shouting too, mostly variations on the stripjoint cry of "Take it off!"
The girl on the table rolled her hips wildly, then bent forward and shook her upper body violently, so that the gap in her unbuttoned dress widened out to her shoulders. Then, still moving her feet in time to the music, she slid her arms out of the dress sleeves, and slowly slipped the rest of the garment down the soft angles of her body, her mouth no longer smiling, but rounded, as though with excitement. As she moved, she regarded the audience through partially closed eyes, and Neubarth thought that he could hear little sighing sounds issuing from her open mouth. He finished his drink in one gulp, dropped his glass to the carpet, and immediately felt another being pressed into his hand. He didn't look for the donor.
The girl's hands were behind her back now, and she continued to shake her body so that the loose flesh of her inner thighs trembled at a fantastic rate of speed. Her stomach jiggled too, and the tops of her breasts, which she was trying to free from the constriction of her black bra. Neubarth's eyes were fastened on the bulging crotch of her panties. She bent low, almost touching the table top with her long, dark hair, and when she was upright again the black bra was in her hands. In time with a faster record, which had been started on the stereo, she began to rotate her upper body, so that the dark nipples of her newly exposed breasts were making little circles in the air. She bent backward until her hands touched the table behind her, not relenting in her jerking motions even as her body formed a bridge, and Neubarth could still see, though from an unusual angle now, the meat of her white mounds quivering frenetically. But her strained, silk-sheathed groin area was right before his eyes. He could see, above the still quaking flesh of her thighs, little curls of dark pubic hair protruding from the edges of her white panties and licking at the inner surfaces of her widespread legs.
Suddenly she stood up, grinned at the crowd, and, perspiring heavily, gathered up her bra and dress. She tried to climb down from the table, but a chorus of male voices insisted that she continue. She stood there for a moment, looking inquisitive, and raised her hands, palms upward, as if asking, "What else?" Many index fingers pointed at her remaining article of underwear, and the voices came: "The pants!"
"Take off your pants"
"Show us the hairy animal!"
"Beaver, give us a beaver!"
She stood as if pondering these suggestions, then motioned towards someone near the stereo. Another instrumental piece began, this one not as fast as the one before. She danced with complete abandon, ignoring the fact that she was fatigued, jumping up, spinning in the air, and landing with her feet wide apart. She stopped abruptly and asked if someone would give her a drink. Neubarth instantly extended his hand up to her, offering her his own drink. She took it, and he looked around for another. Someone gave him one, which he immediately quaffed. When he turned back to watch the dancer, she had already emptied her glass, and was moving sinuously once again, her thumbs now hooked into the waist-band of her sweat-streaked panties. She wasted no time, but pulled out at the elastic and then pushed the flimsy garment down her legs, stepping out of it as the silk rumpled about her feet. She twisted back and forth energetically, doubling her body back once again and lowering herself slowly to form the same muscular bridge that she had earlier.
About three feet before Neubarth's face was the black triangle of the girl's pudendum, its pubic hair tightly curled and shining as though with dampness. Neubarth felt his penis rising into erection. He dropped his hand to the front of his pants, and grasped his member tightly, feeling it pulse regularly beneath his touch. Her bodily span accomplished, the dancer widened her legs even further, while continuing to gyrate with the music. Within the dark hair of her distended groin, lips parted and a glistening pinkness appeared. She jerked up and down in a copulatory motion. Behind her stood a redheaded youth who was smiling intently into Neubarth's eyes.
Neubarth's mouth felt like a sandpile, and his head spun. He was aware of a low moan escaping from his throat, and he threw aside the couple in front of him, grabbed at the table edge, and shoved his face into the wet recess between the dancer's trembling thighs. He was quickly overcome by an all-pervading fishy smell, but ignoring it, he stuck his tongue into the wetness of the gaping orifice.
There was a powerful pressure on his shoulders, and he was whirled backward until he fell in sitting-down position onto the floor. Looking up through swirling rings of cigarette smoke, he could see dim figures towering around and above him, their vagueness augmented by the swirling in his own head. He heard a titanic roar, which he finally recognized as general and unbridled laughter. He turned his head, and saw the dancer standing completely nude on the table. She was laughing hilariously, her head thrown back in exhilaration. All of the people who stood about were laughing down at him, too.
He clambered to his feet and ran for the door, the gleeful people parting as he ran through them. He got to the apartment door, grappled with the doorknob, then threw himself out into the coolness of the night.
He was standing just outside the main doorway of the administration building two days later. The first day after the party, he had pleaded that he felt feverish, and had allowed his wife to make a call to the head of his department, asking that he be excused from his classes for the day. His wife had nursed him faithfully.
Memories of the party came back to him in bits and pieces, and judging from the things he could remember, he could be grateful that the entire evening wasn't crystal-clear in his mind.
Professor Victor Neubarth watched the groups of students hurrying past him. He found that he was drawn more to gazing at the girls' breasts, which in most cases thrust outward against their tight-fitting apparel and trembled as they stepped, or at their firmly moulded buttocks, which slid up and down beneath their skirts or dresses, than he remembered having been before. It is an abomination, he thought, that a conservative, well-established college instructor like himself should be so belatedly possessed by these animalistic longings. He shook his head in disgust, then began to walk quickly towards the Humanities building, where he was scheduled to conduct his American Literature class.
Entering the door of his classroom, he suddenly remembered his shameful exit from the party of two nights before, and then as he opened his briefcase, he recalled the events that had led up to his rapid departure. He kept his face down as he spread his notes out upon the podium, realizing that he was flushing a deep red. When he looked up and regarded the class, who had already assembled and were holding their pencils poised in preparation for note-taking, he quickly scanned their faces, looking for someone who might have been at the party. He was relatively sure that Marnie was the only one who had been in attendance that evening. He saw her in her seat near the rear of the room. She was looking expectantly towards him, with no sign of revulsion on her flawless young face.
He was discussing Faulkner's use of the stream-of-consciousness technique in The Sound and the Fury, when his eyes fell upon a girl in the first row whose legs were spread apart, and whose skirt was gathered up about the middles of her creamy-white thighs. He could see, beyond the dark tunnel of her disheveled skirt, the shadowy whiteness of the crotch of her panties. He felt his penis stiffening, then dismissed the class hurriedly, explaining that he didn't feel too well.
When he had gathered up his papers and stepped out of the classroom door, he saw Marnie standing against the hall wall, obviously waiting for him. With her was a tall, thin young man with brilliantly red hair, which had been allowed to grow long, so that it frizzed out in a great bush upon his head. His eyes were of a most unusual color, Neubarth thought as he walked towards them. Violet, it appeared.
"I'm very sorry, Professor Neubarth," Marnie said as Neubarth stopped before them. "Apparently I had a little too much to drink. The last thing I remember was sitting down beside you at the party."
Neubarth thanked God. "Oh, that's all right, Marnie. I drank my share, too."
He looked up to the red-haired youth, who was gazing directly into his eyes, smirking. Marnie introduced him as Ted Rhadaman, a graduate student in psychology. Smiling, Rhadaman stepped aside and revealed a short, dark-haired girl whom Neubarth had not seen until then. She was smiling, too, and she looked totally unfamiliar.
"You know Margaret, don't you Professor Neubarth?" said Rhadaman, his smile broadening.
"Well, certainly he does," the girl said, walking forward.
"No, I'm sorry ... " Neubarth began.
"You must remember," the girl said while stroking his coat sleeve. "I did a little dance at the party."
Neubarth felt as though he had been struck between the eyes with a sledge hammer. He reeled and placed his hand against the wall for support.
"We've detained you because we thought you might be interested in attending another little 'gathering' tonight," Rhadaman said. "This one will be of a more intimate nature. I mean, there will only be we four. We'll have coffee and discuss literature and the like."
Neubarth was speechless before the onslaught of Rhadaman's pale eyes. He felt his head dumbly nodding agreement. Ted and Margaret grinned in unison.
"Oh, I'm so glad," Marnie bubbled. "Seven o'clock. Same place." Her gigantic breasts vibrated ecstatically.
They left him then, walking away side by side down the long dimly lit hall. Neubarth could only continue to lean against the wall, his head bowed.
Professor Neubarth ate his supper quickly, and paused afterward only long enough to say that he had a policy meeting with the dean that evening, then kissed his wife and son good-bye, and hastened out the front door to his car. Driving over to Marnie's apartment, he thought about his son, Farley. The boy was thirteen and doing quite well in school. And now that Victor Jr. was away at college, majoring in English as his father had, Farley occupied more of his thoughts than he had previously. Yes, he thought, the boy will turn out splendidly.
After parking his car on Oak street, and while he was walking up to the apartment door, he thought of how ridiculous it had been to even think of these students as constituting some sort of threat to his equanimity. He could wipe that almost disastrous blot on his reputation completely away by just behaving urbanely this evening. That other night would be forgotten. He knocked forcefully on the door.
Marnie immediately answered and smilingly greeted Neubarth. As Ted had said earlier that day, there were only the four of them there. Margaret and Ted were sitting close together on a divan across the room. They waved to him as he entered. Marnie guided him over to them, and they both sat down beside the other couple.
"Well, Professor," said Rhadaman, his vaguely kaleidoscopic eyes boring into those of Neubarth, "what should we discuss this evening?"
Neubarth was unable to answer. The urbanity, the urbanity! his mind screamed at him.
"Or perhaps you would like to see Margaret here do another dance?" Rhadaman continued. Margaret giggled.
"Now see here young man," Neubarth began powerfully.
But Margaret bounced up and began to do a few dance steps, cupping her hands around her ample breasts as she moved.
"Margaret!" Marnie shouted. "We have a distinguished guest here, and you act like a tart!"
"All right, all right," Rhadaman said, smiling. "Sit down, Maggie, Have a smoke, Professor?" He held out his hand to Neubarth, offering him a cigarette that was curiously rolled in brown paper. Neubarth accepted it with some misgiving, reasoning that it was probably marijuana.
After he had accepted a light and had drawn deeply on the brown tube, he looked around to see that the others were smoking similar-looking cigarettes. Marnie looked at hers with curiosity as she withdrew it from her mouth. After a few minutes, Neubarth thought that the lights in the room were dimming, then thought that he could see them changing colors: yellow, green, blue, magenta, deep purple, then a fiery red. Ted said something, and Neubarth found himself laughing uproariously, even though he had not heard what the young man had said. Still laughing, he closed his eyes, and the grayness was instantly colored by the pinkly glistening body of a young girl. She was running frantically, perspiration beading upon the bobbing hillocks of her taut breasts and dripping from her erect nipples. The wetness also gathered at the small of her back and ran down the furrow between the white mounds of her buttocks in a tiny rivulet. He saw her patch of pubes glittering as she ran, the medium brown hairs gilded by the sunlight into a semblance of gold. There was a heavy clomping behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, and looked in abject terror at the horselike shape that was almost upon her. It had the hindparts of a powerful plow horse, but its head and neck were replaced by the upper torso of a hairy man, his face set in a devilish grin. From between the rear legs dangled an immense purple penis, which dragged among the brambles as the creature galloped. The beast knocked the girl to the ground, and lowered itself onto her spread-eagled body. Its penis, which was as thick as her leg, prodded against her shrinking flesh. Neubarth's daydream was suddenly shattered by a heavy weight which fell against his side.
He opened his eyes to see Marnie's face just below his, and her breasts flattened against his suit coat. He didn't examine the impropriety of the situation, but instead, immediately grasped the nearest of her massive mammary glands and began to knead it. She started to moan, and her nipples stiffened against the thin fabric of her sweater until they stood out like brazil nuts under his ceaseless fingers. He heard his own breath issuing forth in harsh pants, and felt his penis bulging within its woolen confines. He took her hand and put it upon his sex. She responded by stroking it softly, then clutching it tightly while her moans rose in volume, and he could feel his hardened member pulsing within her grasp. Neubarth felt something like a snake coiling tighter and tighter within him, and hearing as though from an objective distance the guttural sounds coming from his mouth, he pushed Marnie back against the sofa and pulled her sweater over her head. She offered no resistance, but began to writhe upon the cushions, her eyes tightly closed. Her breasts were intimidating in their size. They flopped as she moved from side to side, their silver-dollar-size nipple areas striking the couch material on either side. Neubarth dropped his mouth upon the little pinnacle of her nipple, which rose startingly from the wide, pink halo surrounding it, and began to suck feverishly.
"Oh ... oh ... oh!" came bubbling from Marnie's wet lips, while her hand worked unceasingly in his burning groin. Her hand trembled as she undid his fly button and drew the zipper down. Meanwhile he worked at her skirt fasteners, got them unhooked, and pulled the garment from her thrashing body. His trousers were down around his knees, then his shorts followed just as he pulled down her dampened slip. He sat back and slid his shorts and trousers over his shoe tops, while she stripped away the bit of silk which had concealed her sweaty clump of pubic hair. Then Professor Neubarth, suit coat, shirt, and tie still absurdly in place, fell upon her, breathing raspingly, and wrestled her off the couch and onto the floor. Their cacophony of groans and grunts rose like one torrent of audible insanity.
Neubarth lifted Marnie's body so that she was standing on her shoulders, and while continuing to gnaw frenetically on her swollen nipples, jammed his own shoulders against the hollows of her uplifted knees, and sank his rigid penis into her sopping vaginal cavity. She gave a long shuddering shriek, then began to jerk her loins in rhythm with Neubarth's frenzied thrusts. They bounced around so crazily that Neubarth's member came out on more than one occasion, and he had to hold her steady in order to insert again his lubricated organ. While continuing to pump rapidly he felt a knot growing in his stomach. It extended itself to his testicles, then shot through his penis like a length of knotted string being drawn from the bulging, purple head. He collapsed on top of her voluptuous body, while she continued to make little spasmodic movements beneath him.
Neubarth sat up and saw Rhadaman and Margaret regarding him from the couch. They were in the same position they had occupied formerly, except that they were both now totally nude, and Margaret's legs were flung wide while Ted's middle finger probed deep into the mouth of her gaping vagina. They both smiled at him, though Margaret's mouth quivered strangely, and Ted held out his other hand, offering Neubarth a twisted brown cigarette which was already lit. Neubarth took it thankfully, noticing Rhadaman's penis jutting above his orange-haired thighs like a knobbed flagpole.
After smoking the odd-tasting cigarette down to a half-inch butt, Neubarth felt a stirring beside him. Marnie was groping over his exposed thighs with her wet tongue, inching herself forward in a snakelike manner. Her mouth nuzzled about among the matted moss surrounding his genitals, then she nibbled tenderly along the hanging length of his scrotum, pausing to enclose each skin-covered testicle within the cavern of her mouth for a minute. She licked up from the root of his semiflaccid penis, and he fell back onto the carpet as she reached its globular crown. He took another deep drag on the brown cigarette, then handed it back to Ted, who took it, rubbed its ember out against the sofa, and popped it into his mouth. Marnie's mouth glided up and down with increasing speed along the shank of his rapidly awakening organ. He felt its sensitive head striking the back of her mouth and the delicate claws of her teeth gently raking the burgeoning staff as she withdrew. His breath became panted again, and she was breathing very heavily also, punctuating each noisy intake of air with little gasps. Neubarth grasped at the carpet, then felt his body bucking in excitement. As he reached orgasm, a shrill cry broke from his lips and he felt the white, clotted product of his climax disgorge into her rapacious mouth. He collapsed onto the floor, feeling like an emptied wineskin. Marnie sat up with a vacant smile etched into her face, and a creamy white trickle dripping from one comer of her mouth. Her large brown eyes were blank and lusterless.
"Really most entertaining," said Rhadaman from the sofa. "Now you two can spectate for a while. Come on Maggie." He got up, and pulled Margaret up beside him. His bright penis swung out like a yardarm. Margaret leaned against Ted, biting at his shoulder, and then licked around to his nipple and sucked at it. The insides of her thighs, almost to her knees, shone with a fluid slickness. He pushed her down onto the floor, spread her legs with his hands, and kneeling between them, lowered his face into the dark brown, tangled muff between her thighs. His jaw muscles began to work, and Margaret writhed about violently with Rhadaman's face secured against the red-lipped fissure, his tongue darting out and back like a frog's.
Neubarth and Marnie watched, spellbound. Margaret's movements grew in intensity, her loins ground out a regular rhythm against Ted's hair-fringed face, and she uttered harsh cries that sounded like she was in pain. After a few minutes she began to scream "Fuck me! Fuck me!" Rhadaman sat up, his entire lower face coated with liquid, and spreading the fatty cheeks of her buttocks, bent down once again and ran his tongue deep into the dark trench. While he probed at her puckered anus she shrieked piercingly. He knelt upright again, with a lurid grin upon his wet face, and lay down on his back, his stiffened organ bobbing about like a tree in the wind. Margaret jumped up, straddled him, and began to lower her dripping sexual triangle onto his huge meaty staff. As the outer lips of her vagina touched it, she groaned, then sank completely down, so that Ted's erect red organ was hidden inside her body. She pumped herself up and down, her eyes rolling back so that just the whites of them were visible, then spun her body in a complete circle upon the axis of his stout sex, pumped some more, and gibbering incoherently, fell off to the side. Ted's penis came out of her vagina with a little sucking noise.
Behind him Neubarth heard a gasp. Turning around, he saw Marnie sitting with her mouth open, and her tongue moving across her lips. Her breasts hung down like white sacks of grain, and the nipples upon them were slowly erupting into swollen pinnacles. She groped toward her crotch and inserted her fingers into the thick bush. She bent her head down and, widening her thighs, parted the protuberant outer lips, exposing a glistening pinkness. Her thumb pressed against the bulging knot of flesh above her vaginal opening, and she began to plunk it rapidly, like a guitar string. Her head lolled back and she whistled between her teeth.
Marnie reached out toward Neubarth, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and tried to force his face down to the yawning lips. He succumbed to the fog in his mind and to her pressure, and he felt the bristles scratch him as his tongue made its way to the moist portals of her sex. He worked his tongue frenetically out and back, then injected it into the opening itself, the sides of which felt like raw liver. Above him, he heard Marnie yelling, "Do it! do it!" He rose and pushed her onto her back, then fell on top, reached under her to cup the soft hemispheres of her backside in his hands, and lifted her groin to meet his ready penis. She was so well lubricated that he was in her almost without feeling it, and his hips began to move like a machine, hers responding. She scratched at his back, dug her nails into his buttocks, and bit savagely into his neck muscles. Shudders ran through her and she screamed in such volume that Neubarth's ears rang. She collapsed like a discarded burlap bag, and Neubarth collapsed upon her.
CHAPTER TWO
Neubarth awoke to see the faded pattern of the carpet directly before his eyes. He jerked himself upright and looked around. The room was empty, and midmorning sunshine streamed through the tattered curtains. Looking down at himself, Neubarth saw that he was wearing no shorts or pants, and that his shirttail was stiff with something which had dried into it. He gazed ruefully at his hairy paunch and at the limp organ below it. Realizing his rather compromising appearance, he looked for his trousers and underwear.
When he was outside, he walked slowly to his car, remembering in detail the events of the past evening. He was now sure that he had smoked marijuana, and that the headache which now raged against his left temple was its legacy. He got into his car, started it, and drove down the street, wondering how he would explain his long absence to Louise. Indeed, he thought, how am I to explain taking part in an orgy to myself. He shook his head at the laughable aspects of the experience, and felt close to tears when he thought of Farley, and how appalled he would be should he ever find out about his father's degrading behavior. He wouldn't. Neubarth swore that his life would be irreproachable from that moment on.
Louise accepted his story of drinking a little too much and falling asleep on Dean Mortality's couch with an understanding smile, but he thought that Farley gave him a curious glance at the breakfast table. It being Saturday, Neubarth spent the day weeding in his garden. As he worked the loose soil with his trowel, he envisioned Marnie as she had looked that night � her titanic breasts hanging down to the bottom of her ribcage, and her fine pubic pelt luxuriating at the junction of her thighs. Teeth gritting, he resolved to think no more about her, nor about that trollop Margaret, nor about her devilish companion, Ted Rhadaman. He spaded furiously.
On Monday, having already disposed of his English class, Professor Neubarth sat pondering the possibility of getting some of his old lecture notes out of his files and using them for the afternoon literature class. He had never done that before. His industrious nature had rebelled at even the thought of taking such an easy way out before. But now he wasn't so sure.
He saw a shadow upon the opaque glass of his office door. Someone was standing behind it. He got up from his desk and walked over to the door, flung it open. Marnie stood there, her head down.
"Come in, Marnie." He took her by the arm and led her to the chair near his desk, striving to keep his face averted from the sensual swellings at the front of her prim dress. He sat back down in his desk chair. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Marnie continued to face downward, studying an area of the floor just in front of her shoes. Finally she raised her head and looked at him. Her eyes were reddened and puffy. "I'm so sorry, Professor Neubarth, I don't know what came over me." She spoke haltingly, as though she were ready to begin sobbing.
"Whatever it was, Marnie, it came over both of us," he said forcefully, feeling in complete control of the situation, as befitting a man of his standing. "I suppose it was the marijuana." He paused. "It's past. I think we should both try to forget that regrettable evening."
"But that's just it, Professor," she said tearfully. "I can't. I think I love you." She gazed at him, eyes brimming.
Neubarth swallowed painfully. He had not foreseen this. It was ridiculous. The girl continued to look at him, a shy smile now intruding into the fresh purity of her young features. She got up and came to him, her eyes beaming through their glaze of tears. She came to a stop beside him. "We can work it out ... Victor."
He was about to answer, but was interrupted as her mouth descended onto his. She forced her tongue through his parted teeth and fell into his lap and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her lips mightily against his. He felt smothered by both the pressure of her mouth and the hills of cloaked flesh that billowed up around his throat. He tried to push her away. She hugged him more tightly and her tongue lashed against his, and against his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He felt that dreaded gnawing in his loins again, tried to fight against it, but the hunger grew in him, scattering inhibitions aside as it bulged. He tried to pull away one last time, just long enough to tell her that it could never work. He wound his arms tightly about her waist and returned her kiss by allowing his tongue to prod at her teeth, enter her wet mouth, and swish around the sides. He found his hand upon her stockinged thigh and, though he tried to contain himself, moved his fingers up the slick fabric, that felt to the touch like tiny, metallic links, until he reached its top. Beyond that, he felt her warm, pliant flesh �bread dough to his kneading fingers. He grasped at her panties, hooked his fingers around the crotch piece and ripped it away in his fervor. Then Neubarth lifted her, with some difficulty, onto his cluttered desk. She sprawled out among his papers, her head thrown back, her arms and legs spread. A small family portrait of Neubarth, his wife, and his two sons clattered to the floor.
His telephone rang. He grabbed it up and told whoever was on the line to call later, then clicked the receiver back into its cradle, and ran his hands over Marnie's body. Her rich curves undulated beneath his touch. He handled the heavy pillows of her breasts, while at the same time his sex gorged itself with blood and rose to press against his pants. He unbuttoned her dress, pulled it from her and threw it onto the chair. Her slip followed, then the immense twin cups of her oversize bra. He pushed the torn pants up around her waist and ran his fingers through the dense beard between her thighs. He saw that there was a little rift of hair extending down through the middle of the pubic triangle and fanning out upon the mouth of her vagina. He groped up towards her breasts and touched one of the rigid nipples, then put his mouth upon this little peak of pink meat and sucked vigorously. She gasped and grabbed his head, holding it firmly down upon the white, spreading mound. He sucked and fondled at the same time, but the pressure in his crotch became too much, so he stepped back and frantically unbuckled his belt, letting his trousers and undershorts crumple about his shoes. He hoisted himself onto the desk between her parted legs and immediately inserted his penis into her damp cleft. They rocked violently, and Neubarth had to grab at the wooden edge of the desk to prevent them from tumbling off. She started to moan loudly, and he had the presence of mind to cup his hand over her opened mouth. When he reached climax, he pressed his mouth down into the alabaster pulp of her breast in order to stifle his panting. Their bodies shuddered furiously at the moment of mutual release, and the nipple area of Marnie's free breast spun like a rolling eye.
The telephone rang again. Neubarth lay as he was, basking in the intermingling warmth of their two expired bodies. As the phone jangled for the fourth time, he slid off the desk and picked up the receiver.
"Yes?"
"Victor? What's wrong? Why did you hang up on me a few minutes ago?" Her tone was one of troubled concern.
"A meeting, darling. Had to rush to a meeting. Sorry I hung up on you."
"I don't know, Victor. I just don't know. You've been acting so strangely the past few days."
"There's nothing strange, Louise," he said, feeling himself grow angry. "It's just my work. That's all!" He slammed the receiver down without asking what she had called about.
He turned back towards Marnie to see that she had put on her slip, and she had her dress up to her waist. Her breasts were still unconfined, and a thin layer of perspiration glistened on each. She smiled at him. He walked to her and clutched a red-tipped globe in each hand, pressing the nipples between thumbs and index fingers.
"These are really splendid, Marnie."
"Do you honestly think so?" she asked. She gazed down regretfully at her upthrust breasts. "Sometimes I think they're just too large. People stare at me like I'm a freak."
He moved away from her, pulled his shorts and pants up, and buckled his belt. He scooped up her bra from the chair and handed it to her, noting as he did so that the little label on the edge of the cup read 42-D. He knew that he had to say something to her that would end this madness, but he didn't know how to begin, especially after he had just taken advantage of her adolescent affection. He sat down in his chair.
"Marnie," he said, trying to choose his words carefully, "I think you know that I am a married man. Perhaps you don't know that I also have two sons, the eldest of whom is older than you." He wasn't sure that he was proceeding correctly, but resolved to go on nevertheless. "We can see no more of one another apart from our normal classroom contact. Naturally a man of my years is most flattered when a lovely young lady like yourself expresses affection." She began to cry softly. He hurried on. "There can be no more of this." Thoughts of his wife fell on him like a tangible grayness, and in his mind he saw her unexciting, angular body. He looked up. Marnie's flesh was pink and firm, like a rosebud, he thought. The old, stern, authoritarian presence of mind that he had felt as a wartime PT boat commander came rushing over him. "We must regard our recent intimacies as a highly pleasant, but short interlude." She began to sob more loudly. "That will be all, Miss Croft." He busied himself with his disordered papers, and after a moment or two he heard the office door open and close quietly. Yes, he thought, he handled the situation properly. He began to restack his dampened and crumpled notes.
The days came and went, and very gradually, the locked coldness of winter gave way to the warmer weather of early April. The tree-lined city streets began to become shady once again, as the spreading canopy above them turned green with the first leaves of spring. The campus activities increased. Students could be seen sitting in couples upon the rich lawn of the college's central quadrangle in the now pleasant afternoons. No longer did they hurry along the icy sidewalks, scarved and overcoated, their steps as brisk as their desires to gain the heated sanctuaries of the classrooms or the library.
The coeds donned their summer apparel, even shorter skirts than usual, and occasionally, sleeveless blouses. Professor Neubarth walked rapidly by the relaxed students on the lawn in his daily transit between his office and the Humanities building, assimilating their casual happiness. He was at peace with his world, the tensions of the winter were dispeled by the glorious vernal awakening, and he felt that he was conducting his classes more creatively than ever. Marnie now sat in the back row in his American literature class, never raising her eyes to his anymore, nor lingering behind the other students to discuss something with him, as she had in the past. He was certain that the affair had been successfully concluded, and he felt glad at the absence of any of those embarrassing episodes that, he imagined, clung to the coattails of sundered relationships of this nature.
He tried to reactivate his disintegrating sexual relationship with his wife, but although he felt a resurgence of inclination to make love to her immediately after the break with Marnie, he soon leveled off into his more normal coupling with Louise on a once-a-week basis. She seemed, as always, satisfied with this. Farley, however, seemed unusually fidgety and nervous these days. But he is thirteen, the Professor thought and the first stirrings of puberty are beginning to make themselves known to him. He reminded himself to have a talk with him in the near future. He told Louise one night, after Farley had retired, of his intentions to apprise his son of the nature of things sexual. After he had spoken, Louise continued to knit, then replied in a low voice, "I'm not sure that it will be necessary for you to tell him about those things now."
"What do you mean?" he asked.
She laid aside her knitting. "I found a pair of his underwear stuck back in his closet the other day. They were bloodstained, and, well, quite suspiciously stained."
Neubarth did not reply. He sat and pondered the possible ramifications of this development. So, the boy had been experimenting. But with whom? He was only thirteen, and the few girls he knew were the rather prim, pubescent daughters of staid townspeople � not the sort of young women that he could imagine indulging in some sort of furtive intercourse behind a bush. Then he realized that he hardly knew his son, that he had been so concerned with the demands of his profession that he had seldom been available enough for the boy to establish any sort of companionable relationship with him. If something had gone amiss, Neubarth could only blame himself. An overpowering sense of gloom washed over him. The boy couldn't have gone to a brothel, could he? Neubarth wondered. No, that suspicion was ridiculous. He was far too young in appearance to even gain entrance to such a place. Indeed, Neubarth thought, there is no such place in town.
Two days later, Neubarth stood by his living room window in the late afternoon. He was tired. The classes that day had been arduous to conduct. He sucked at his old briar, having just salvaged the worn pipe from an attic drawer in response to his strange new need to smoke something. Outside the window he saw a warm fusion of green and bright blue. The cloudless sky shone through the fully leaved walnut trees, and the sprinkler spun lazily on the lawn, casting tinted droplets of water in a wide arc. He saw two figures appear far down the long, sloping sidewalk to his left. It was about time for Farley to be getting home from school, so one of them must be he. The pair walked on in his direction, and when they were about fifty yards distant, Neubarth saw them walk out of the shade and into a bright patch of sunlight. The shorter one was Farley. He had his school books tucked up under his arm. The other person, who was tall and thin, had an unkempt and frizzy head of hair that shone bright red as the sun struck it, like a bloody halo. Neubarth's heart pounded in his throat. Rhadaman! That hellish young man was walking with his son! Instantly the Professor's mind teemed with sensual images. He saw a woman with outstretched legs, lying on a black-sheeted bed. She was nude, and her naked flesh contrasted sharply with the black fabric beneath her. She smiled, and motioned someone to come forward, while spreading her thighs even further apart. The dark burl of her pubic fleece parted, to reveal the glistening inner reaches of her genitals. She reached down and stroked the pink folds of her vaginal entrance, then moved her hand up to the magenta knot of one of her nipples, and stroked this, while continuing to smile seductively. Neubarth shook his head in a spasm of disgust.
He opened the front door and walked out onto the lawn. As Rhadaman and Farley got to the edge of the yard and stopped to face each other while conversing in low voices, Neubarth walked rapidly up to them. Ted saw him as he approached, and turning his demoniac eyes upon the tense-faced professor, smiled broadly.
"I haven't seen you in quite a while, Professor. Have you been busy with your ... pursuits?"
Neubarth prepared to reply angrily, and demand to know why he and Farley were together. He said nothing. Rhadaman's eyes caught the sunlight and a prismatic sequence of colors revolved in them like a flickering neon beer sign. Neubarth felt a tremendous pressure building in his head, and a sudden faintness. He didn't hear Farley greet him, then bid Ted good-bye, and stepping around him, go up the walk towards the front door. Ted continued to stare into the Professor's eyes for a couple of minutes more, then moved back.
"Well, see you soon, Professor."
Neubarth watched him walk down the street. Then he turned in a clumsy stagger, and walked slowly and carefully up to the door.
The boy was silent throughout dinner, and Neubarth didn't attempt to draw him out. As they were all eating their dessert, Louise asked Farley how he had spent his day.
"What's new in the exciting world of the budding young chemist?" she asked jovially, reaching over to rumple his hair.
Farley began a monologue about his recent experiments in various aspects of physical science. He spoke without emphasis, as though what he was telling them was simply for their own edification and he couldn't care less. They finished their dessert.
Neubarth wanted to speak, but his head was spinning frighteningly, and the images of that last party at Marnie's apartment shouldered their way into his mind with merciless intensity. He saw Marnie's genitals spread out like a furry target, and the shaft of his own taut sex plunging deep into the pulsating orifice. He gritted his teeth and succeeded in driving away the hateful memories. Then he turned to Farley and asked how he had happened to meet Ted Rhadaman. The boy was reluctant to answer. Finally, he began to talk. "He just happened to be walking by the school grounds when I got out of class," he said, looking down at his empty plate.
"And?" Neubarth asked.
Farley continued: "And he asked me if I was Professor Neubarth's son, and I said yes. He was going along in my direction, so we just walked and talked about ... things."
"What kind of things?" Neubarth shouted. "What did that bastard tell you?!" His outcry reverberated around the walls of the dining room.
Farley gave him a withering glance, then got up and went to his room.
"What was all that about? Do you know this 'Ted'?" Louise asked.
Neubarth didn't answer. His depression was absolute and the sensual images flocked into his consciousness. He was sure that he would never have thought of those things again if it hadn't been for the terrible reappearance of Rhadaman.
"Well, I'm going to get to the bottom of this," Louise said in a forceful tone. "I've never heard you raise your voice to Farley before." She got up and followed her son down the hallway.
He would hit him, Neubarth decided. He would get that Rhadaman aside and just break his nose or his jaw with one blow. That monster would never dare intrude into his familial serenity again. He realized the grotesque disharmony of these fistic imaginings with his established position in the quietude of campus life. He didn't care. His wartime experiences had implanted a deeplying sense of idealized masculine behavior in him. I'll do it, he thought.
He got up from his chair and walked into the living room, where he sat down in his favorite easy chair and began to peruse the evening paper. The heavy black type glared up at him. It shouted of demands made, of agreements ratified, of concessions offered. Nothing in the paper was the slightest bit consolatory. He laid his head back against the chair cushion and tried to doze.
CHAPTER THREE
Several days later, Professor Neubarth came home from his classes in the late afternoon. When he stepped inside the entrance, he was gripped with a distinct feeling of solitude, and once he had entered the living room he was sure that no one was at home. To be sure, he looked in the bedrooms and in the kitchen table he saw a sheet of paper. Going to it and peering down, he read: "Victor, I've gone over to Beatrice Holman's house for a little while. Your supper is on the stove. Will be home soon. Love, Louise. P.S. Farley is staying late for band practice."
Neubarth ate the tepid Mexican casserole, then went into the living room and clicked on the TV set. He watched the evening news, a half-hour situation comedy, and part of an hour-long western series before he began to become concerned. What could keep her this long? He wasn't entirely sure that he knew who this Beatrice Holman was. But then, Louise probably had a good many friends he didn't know about. He thought that he might go for a drive. Getting out for a few minutes would rest his mind.
He went out to his car, started it up, and drove away slowly down the quiet residential street. He cruised toward the business district of the small college town, and when he got to the first stoplight he turned right and proceeded down the garishly lit street, glancing into the bright store windows as he drove. Reaching the end of the long line of closely ranked shops, he turned again, directing his car along a street that he was sure was mostly comprised of students' apartments. After a couple of blocks he saw Louise's Volkswagen parked on the right side of the street. He drove by, the discovery failing to register. It hit him in the middle of the next block, and he made a U-turn, drove back, and parked across the street from her tiny blue car. His mind was alive with visions of Louise having found out about his recent indiscretions, and of her seeking some extra-curricular activities of her own. But then, he decided, his thoughts calming, this might very well be Beatrice Holman's house. He rolled down his window and immediately heard loud music coming from the building across the way. The origin of the music seemed to be the brilliantly lit house directly behind Louise's car. This didn't jive; he knew that she didn't like the tinny squalls that masqueraded as music among the modern younger generation, and the type of music that he was hearing was definitely of that variety. He felt forced to investigate. He got out of the car and walked across the dark street. As he did so, the door of the house opened, and two people came out, only their outlines distinguishable because of the glaring lights behind them. Neubarth rehearsed telling them that he was looking for someone � a fictitious someone. When he was almost to them, a voice boomed out, "Well hello, Professor!" and a feminine outcry followed immediately: "Victor!" The latter voice was that of Louise, and the former � he knew, there was no use denying it to himself � was the voice of Ted Rhadaman.
They all stood close together for a moment, till Louise spoke, breaking the silence. "This certainly is a surprise, Victor." Her voice was shaky, as though she were frightened, or as though she had had a little too much to drink.
"I thought you were at this Beatrice Holman's," Neubarth said, his voice quavering.
"This is her house, Professor." Ted stepped forward, his red hair appearing only as a shadowy blot against the night. His eyes were almost invisible, but Neubarth, looking at him, saw something like a minute yellow pinwheel spinning in each of them. Even in the darkness, his eyes shone with an unearthly light.
"Well, hell," Rhadaman said, "let's go back in." He clutched Louise by the arm, and motioning the Professor to follow, mounted the steps and pushed inside. Neubarth climbed the steps tiredly, his heart bouncing like a tennis ball in his chest, and his throat as dry as the Sahara.
Once inside, Neubarth could hear or think nothing. The music walled everyone in, as though with supreme solidity. Unbridled sound was the master. There were many people there, some seated, some standing about in the comfortably furnished living room. Having just come in from the pure night air, Neubarth was almost overpowered by the thick screens of smoke wreathing the place, and though the pervading smell was of burning tobacco, a completely distinctive musky odor also was evident. Neubarth knew that he had smelled it before. He knew it was marijuana.
Louise pulled him through the crowd and over to a card table, around which people were sitting, playing cards. Louise introduced him to a heavy, matronly looking women, who smiled at him. "And this is Beatrice Holman, Victor."
She extended her hand. "Delighted to meet you, Professor. Louise has spoken of you many times." Her tone was unctuous. Neubarth responded to her greeting, then turned aside to look questioningly at his wife.
Louise understood his interrogatory expression. She explained that Beatrice was a member of her Thursday afternoon bridge club, and in a somewhat lower voice she resolved his unspoken question by telling him that Ted Rhadaman had been present when she arrived. He was about to ask her what the hell was going on, when he was interrupted by Mrs. Holman's voice.
"I do so enjoy the company of young people. Don't you, Professor Neubarth?" Beatrice asked.
Neubarth didn't answer.
"They seem to have such a fresh approach to things," she continued. "I find their presence at my affairs ... " she waved her hand out towards the heavily peopled room, " ... well, invigorating."
Neubarth looked around him. He saw no one in the room whom he knew, but agewise, the group was indeed heterogeneous. An extremely professorial-looking gentleman of about fifty-five was seated next to a girl who looked barely eighteen. They were deeply engrossed in conversation. They bent their heads very near each other, one speaking with emphatic gestures while the other listened closely, then exchanging conversational roles. Neubarth squinted his eyes to see through the curling smoke. He could see Rhadaman nowhere.
The music continued unabated. In fact, Neubarth thought, its piercing shrillness seemed to be growing in intensity. Louise thrust a cold glass into his hand and led him away to an unoccupied space on a divan across the room. They sat down and Louise began to speak rapidly. "I hope you're not angry, darling. I know finding me at a rather lively affair like this might be a little shocking to you. Beatrice is such a fine friend of mine, that when she called me and invited me to her house this evening, I just couldn't refuse."
"No, it's all right, Louise," Neubarth said, and took a drink from the glass in his hand. The smoky warmth of good scotch spread through his body, and he immediately felt his tensions subside. Another deep swallow and he felt very comfortable indeed. Looking around him again, he saw that a good many of the people present were exhibiting some of the early earmarks of drunkenness. Various men blundered about among the crowd, unseen women shrieked with laughter, and one young blonde was doing an impromptu and vigorous dance a few feet away. She leaped into the air and came down in a splits position several times in succession. Her skirt stretched up about her thighs as she landed. Neubarth felt a tingling in his lower belly. He took another long pull from his glass, finishing the drink.
He felt that he should go now, but looking towards Louise he saw that she was embroiled in a discussion with a young man sitting next to her. He could hear snatches of their conversation: "The psychedelic sound ... My God, the colors were ... but Brahms ... " It was meaningless.
He faced his front once again to see that the willowy blonde was walking on her hands. Many men, and a few women, were crowded around her. Her long, white legs thrust upward from the black silk which covered her buttocks, the muscles in them trembling as she moved. There were cries of admiration from the people surrounding her, and a few lewd comments from the men. Her skirt hung down to her breasts and her long, straight blonde hair swept the carpet as she described wobbly circles before the enraptured eyes of her audience. Abruptly, she let herself topple backward, and fell in a sitting position on the floor. She looked up at the attentive group ringing her, laughed uproariously, and asked for a drink.
The attention of the crowd became diffused again. Neubarth sipped at his second drink, which had been supplied by a young woman who was strolling among the people, acting as a waitress. The gnawing in his loins continued, now intensified by the sight of the athletic girl's smooth, well-muscled legs.
"Let's go home now, Louise," he said to his wife, interrupting her conversation with the young man in midsentence. The boy looked at him with startled eyes, mumbled something, and turned away.
"But Victor, I don't want to go yet. I haven't been out like this in such a long time." Her words were slurred, and though she gazed up at him plaintively, Neubarth could see that she was beginning to be numbed by her unaccustomed intake of liquor. She was becoming drunk. He hadn't seen her even remotely intoxicated since the days of their first dates, twenty or more years before. He remembered having taken her for the first time in the back seat of his old Plymouth, while she had been high from drinking of the bottle of gin that he had purchased earlier in the evening, even then plotting the sexual tumble which came to pass later. Yes, it began with liquor, he thought.
Neubarth's thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the other side of the room. He saw Mrs. Holman standing shakily upright upon a folding chair.
"We're going to inaugurate an interesting little game here," she announced grinning with drunken merriment. "All of you are cordially invited to participate. It's called strip poker!" She yelled out the last few words and then was plucked bodily from the chair by an unseen someone. Though she was hidden in the crowd now, Neubarth could still hear her loud guffaw.
Louise got up and made her way rapidly towards the card table. Neubarth jumped up behind her and tried to grab at her arm in an attempt to detain her long enough to talk some sense into her. She moved quickly and managed to elude him as she twisted through the packed bodies. Pushing through the coat backs in pursuit of her, he came suddenly upon the lean body of Ted Rhadaman, who was standing directly in his path, blocking his progress.
"Now, now, Professor. You are going to let Mrs. Neubarth have her evening of excitement, aren't you?" Rhadaman said in a soft voice, while smiling down from his height advantage of four or five inches. "Strip poker is a rather uninspired idea, but maybe for you older folks it's just about lively enough, huh?"
Neubarth looked back into his eyes and felt heat and cold alternately race through his veins. He felt weak. He said nothing.
Rhadaman took him by the arm and directed him through the crowd to the table. Seven or eight people sat around it, among them Louise and Beatrice Holman. Beatrice saw him approaching and smiled benignly, motioning for those around her to spread out and allow him room to sit down. They did, and Neubarth took a seat on the edge of a coffee table which had been utilized for this purpose. "Five card draw" was the call. The cards were dealt with considerable dexterity by an elderly gentleman seated to Louise's right. Aside from Louise, Beatrice, the elderly dealer, and himself, the participants in the game were all of college age. He looked across the table at his wife. Her eyes were like muddy pools and her lips were drawn back in a mirthful grimace as she scooped up her cards.
It went rapidly. In about ten minutes of rather incompetent playing, all of the women had lost their inconsequentials, such as shoes, earrings, watches, and Beatrice had bet and lost her nylons. Neubarth, warming to the game, or to the scotch, with which he was continually supplied, was down to his trousers and T-shirt. As though by plan, no player won consistently. The pile of various articles of apparel grew until someone scraped them off onto the floor, and win or lose, no one reclaimed anything.
Neubarth could hardly see the cards in his hand, but after staring at them for a while, he picked out three natural aces. He resolved to go all the way, knowing that the eager women would follow his raises. He bet his T-shirt and trousers, Beatrice and Louise followed suit by calling him with their dresses and slips. A girl across the way, already down to her underclothing, bet her slip and bra, and then, saying, "What the hell," added her panties to the list without demanding that they be considered a raise. They were playing a more exciting version of the game, which allowed the players to retain their clothing until they had actually lost them. When someone did lose, all activity ceased while that person stripped off the forfeited article of clothing. Most of the people in the room stood in a deep ring around the table, their attention entirely upon the cards, the terse raises, and the gradually enlarging vistas of male or female flesh. The almost unclad girl won. She lay down a pair of jacks and three tens, and grinned across at Neubarth as he disgustedly threw down his insufficient hand.
Someone turned the stereo off, and all eyes in the now silent room focused on the little cluster of players around the small cardboard table. Neubarth quickly yanked his T-shirt over his head and pulled his trousers off, and sat back down, feeling annoyed. He had wanted to see the young girl in the white slip in all her firmly pink nakedness. Louise stood up, and with an obscene and highly inebriated grin, unzipped her dress and lifted it up past her hair, then followed it with her floral patterned slip. When she sat down, Mrs. Holman had already squirmed out of her requisite clothing and, her face reddening, was striving to lean in from her sitting position so as to hide as much of her newly exposed body as was possible from the attentive onlookers. From his vantage point, Neubarth could see the layers of her stomach fat rippling out like the folds of an accordion over the top of her inadequate pantie girdle. She obviously wasn't drunk enough, and trying to amend that situation, she took a long pull from her cocktail glass, and then another, finishing it. She asked for a refill. Louise sat, still smiling woodenly, with her hands clasped behind her head and her legs flung wide apart, so that strands of black pubic hair extruded from beneath her red panties. Then all of the players concerned themselves with their separate drinks, in preparation for the final onslaught on their propriety by the fickle gods of chance.
The next hand was won by the elderly dealer, who, contrary to his previous practice, dealt some cards to himself for this deciding contest. Everyone at the table had all of their remaining clothing in the balance, and Neubarth suspected, through the drunken haze in his head, that the women had accepted the few raises without even looking at their cards. Beatrice Holman, however, looked at her hand with smug caution. She obviously thought that she had won, and when the old gentleman laid down a five-card straight, her face fell visibly, and she took another large drink from her recently replenished glass.
Someone from the audience suggested that the ultimate unveiling take place one at a time, with each loser standing up and slowly shedding the winner's bounty. This suggestion met with a chorus of approval from the group at large, though Neubarth noticed that some of the people were leaving the party now, apparently having had their fill of the decadent goings-on. Neubarth smiled to himself, secretly pleased at his sophistication in the face of the possible humiliation of this sort of thing. His fogged mind offered him no moral castigation.
Louise's eagerness to disrobe was immediately apparent. She stood up and, making little movements with her legs, put her hands behind her back, undid her bra and let the supporting garment slide down her arms and fall onto the floor. She stood up straight and arched her back in an attempt to make her sagging dugs stand up more prominently, and succeeded at least in part. The tired sacks of flesh perked upright, and her dark nipples rose in the excitement of her exhibitionism. She continued to smile while bending down to hook her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and loose them from the confines of hip and buttock. They slid to the carpet, and she strutted about for a minute, displaying the wide blackness of her pubic fleece. Neubarth could see little fluorescent spots of liquid wetness at the ends of some of her crotch hairs. She's really getting excited, he thought dimly. But the sight of her nude body aroused no answering lust in him, so he swung his eyes expectantly to the young girl, who had just gotten up from her seat. Louise sat down.
The young girl quickly pulled her satiny slip over her head and stood clad only in the briefest of bikini pants and a strapless bra. She seemed a little hesitant about removing these last bits of undergarment, but visibly steeling herself for the ordeal, she slowly undid the little metallic hasps between the twin cups while the watching group around her inhaled and held their breath collectively. The scrap of cushiony material came free and the solid meat of her youthful � though bounteous � breasts bounced for a moment beneath the harsh glare of light. There were "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd as they expressed their appreciation.
"They stick right up there, don't they!" someone said. The girl blushed and appeared reluctant to go on. The crowd demanded that she continue, however, so she smiled falteringly, bent low with her creamy mounds swaying like ripe fruit, and pushed her panties down, then stepped out of them. Everyone fastened his eyes upon the delicate, furry triangle that came into view. The girl turned in a complete circle so that everyone could see her body from all viewpoints. Her buttocks were white and as plumpishly firm as her strawberry-tipped breasts. There were two tiny dimples just above the dark furrow between the fat cheeks. She turned around once again, and Neubarth looked upon the fine hair of her pubis with the gnawing in his loins abruptly taking the form of an erection. She sat down, the murmurs of admiration having erased her uneasiness, and didn't bother to reach for her clothes.
Beatrice Holman seemed to realize that the group's attention had shifted to her. Her face underwent a series of uncomfortable contortions, and she bent lower against the edge of the sheltering card table. The people grew restive, and began to mutter among themselves. A large man near the table said, "C'mon honey, get 'em off." Her face became a deep crimson. She obviously wanted to evade carrying out her expected striptease.
"I think this has gone about far enough," she said, trying to inject a stern tone into her squeaky voice. Her pudgy face contracted into an expression that signified her distaste for any further revelry, and she reached for her dress amid the pile of clothing on the floor. A man who Neubarth had not noticed until that moment clutched her shoulders from behind.
"We must fulfill our bargains, mustn't we, Bea?" he said, pulling her back into an upright position. "The other girls have complied." He pointed towards Louise and the young girl, both of whom sat in casual attitudes upon their folding chairs. Louise's position was very casual indeed. She sat with her legs flung widely apart, so that the livid inner regions of her sex were displayed for anyone who cared to notice.
"But Harry, I don't want to," Beatrice whimpered. She started to say something else, but Harry interrupted her by pulling her to her feet and motioning for someone to help him with the unveiling. Three or four men moved in and numerous hands began to fumble at the complex bindings of Beatrice's foundation garments. The clasps and zippers came free, and amid Beatrice's stifled sobs, the primitive corset and gigantically cupped brassiere fell to the floor. Upon viewing her body, Neubarth's first impression was of pictures he had seen of the little statuettes of bronze age fertility goddesses. Beatrice Holman's mammoth breasts cascaded down to her midsection. Their nipple areas seemed to be as large as saucers. The nipples themselves were shrunken and withered. Three great rolls of fat comprised her stomach, and the lowest of these almost hid her palely colored patch of pubic hair. Her stumpy legs were knead in close together, as she made a pitiful attempt to hide her genitals. It was too late however. Harry and another man held her heavy arms outright and turned her slowly before the grouped stare of the audience. Her buttocks were like two overstuffed pillows, grossly fat and dimpled. Neubarth saw Harry turn towards someone in the group surrounding the table, a questioning look in his guileless blue eyes.
Following Harry's glance, Neubarth turned his head to see Ted Rhadaman, who stood at the edge of the crowd, nod as though in acceptance. Beatrice was released, though she was still prevented from retrieving her clothing, and amid shouts of gaiety, the group began to mill about with the three still naked women joining in the aimless movement. Beatrice joined the human swarm somewhat reluctantly. Neubarth was aware that he had been forgotten, and so got up, and still clad in only his shorts, moved into the group and tried to keep the tantalizing nude body of the young girl in view.
Everyone continued to replenish their drinks from the several half-gallon bottles of assorted spirits that sat on a coffee table. Neubarth was drinking heavily. He couldn't seem to get enough and found himself going over to the table quite often to refill his glass. Suddenly he heard a chorus of shouts from somewhere at the other end of the room, and then saw two shoes sticking upright and moving in his direction above the shoulders of the crowd. The people parted, and revealed the athletic young blonde walking on her hands again, though now she wobbled considerably more than she had previously. On each side of her, men were making appraising comments about her stockingless white legs and the firm thrust of her taut buttocks against the silken fabric of her black panties. A few hands reached out tentatively and stroked her quivering legs as she wobbled past. Others patted her protuberant rear, and one touched the little mound of her sex which welled up against the satin. She came to a shaky halt and wavered there for a moment. A young man of college age came forward, holding an uncorked bottle of champagne in one hand. He smiled like a jack-o-lantern, gripped one of her legs, and began to slide his hand up and down in a caressing motion. His loose clutch seemed to steady her and she balanced there, swaying only slightly. Neubarth marveled at her strength.
The young man had meanwhile let his hand fall onto her crotch and, after stroking it briefly, slid his fingers under the waistband of her panties, wrenched them up to mid-thigh and then pulled them from her shoe tops. She immediately spread her legs wide, affording the watchers an unobscured view of the dark cleft that extended from vaginal opening to anus. Her pubic hair was of a tan color, and tightly curled. The young man moved his index finger the length of the groove between her trembling thighs, letting his finger prod at her exposed anus and then intrude shallowly into her opened vagina. Her legs quivered with exertion and excitement.
The youth abruptly drew back and, swinging the champagne bottle up between the girl's legs, began to pour the bubbling liquid into the gaping orifice of her sex. The wine dribbled over the brink of the distended lips, and ran over her jutting buttocks and through the bristling beard which covered her mound of venus. She kicked her legs violently but didn't drop from her position, and the young man put a hand on each of her thighs and sank his head down between the girl's thrashing limbs. He worked his face energetically within the golden muff, raising his head occasionally and licking the mixture of wine and lubricative juice from his grinning lips. The crowd applauded his actions loudly, though Neubarth was in such a foggy state of mind that he had some trouble even seeing the weirdly coupled duo, let alone attempt to add his voice to the general clamor. Finally they collapsed, the girl's strength obviously at an end, and the young man continued to hold his mouth tightly against the blonde girl's jerking groin as they fell onto the carpet. She began to move her hips in a wild rhythm, while she fumbled at the boy's fly zipper, and after some difficulty, got it open. His penis unfolded out of the opening in his trousers like a sausage-shaped balloon being inflated, and once it was free, the blonde girl began to nibble at its rosy head, while caressing the swollen shank with a feverish hand. The onlookers gazed down in rapt attention, a few of the men among them interrupting their vigil long enough to paw at the bodies of the women nearest them.
Neubarth veered away through the steadily diminishing groups of people, bumping violently into some in his passage. One man, upon being struck violently from behind by Neubarth's reeling body, placed his hand upon the drunken Professor's chest and pushed him to the floor. Hardly realizing his sudden introduction to the carpet, Neubarth clambered clumsily upright and continued onward in his earnest search for the liquor. He couldn't locate the coffee table which served as a bar, though he reconnoitered in what he thought were different directions. His questing movements became as frantic as his building thirst. Eventually he made his way to a sofa, and managed to snatch a glass from the limp hand of a woman who had passed out with her body half on the floor and half propped up against the cushions. He took one long, greedy gulp of the tasteless whiskey and then saw, past the wet rim of the old-fashioned glass, the nude girl from the poker session struggling with a man seated next to her at the other end of the couch. The man, who looked like a middle-aged executive type, was trying to put his hand between the girl's legs, and she laughingly barred his progress with only a little effort. The man was very drunk, and burbled what he probably thought were extremely clever sweet nothings as he groped towards the girl's bushy groin and poked at her erect young breasts.
Neubarth felt as though he should go to the girl's assistance, and so he staggered up to the grappling couple and pushed with all his strength on the man's sweaty face. The man fell back against the sofa and then slowly and painfully tried to right himself. As he clutched at the sofa material in his attempt to regain his position, he looked up at Neubarth with fear in his bulging eyes and little flecks of spittle at the corners of his mouth.
"Why did you do that?" the man whimpered. His face spun before Neubarth's eyes.
"Get away, you filthy pig!" Neubarth yelled at the frightened man, while pushing him off onto the floor. The man began to cry agonizingly and crawled off on his hands and knees, the sobs visibly shaking his portly body.
Neubarth sidled up next to the girl, who was laughing with abandon now, and seeing the white globe of her breast just in front of his face, gasped and thrust his mouth over the flame-red tip of her nipple. She let him snort about for a minute, and then she thrust him firmly back.
"But why can't I?" Neubarth asked plaintively. "I want to." Lust flowed through his body, rejuvenating his numbed senses, and causing his stiffening organ to rear up beneath the cloth of his undershorts. "I want you! I want you!" he exclaimed, puffing like a sprinter, and fell onto the girl. They both toppled back against the sofa, and Neubarth forced his hand between her closed thighs and into the hairy sanctuary of her sex. She opened her legs, and leaning back against the sofa backrest, allowed Neubarth to locate her rigid little clitoris and fondle it frantically. After a few minutes her breath became labored, then there were several short, explosive exhalations, and her body lost its physical tension. She began to laugh again.
"Not bad, old man," she said harshly. "Now you get away!" She punctuated this command by shoving her feet against Neubarth's chest and shoving him away. He fell off the couch and his head struck the floor with a resounding clunk. He lay there, watching the light spin around and around. A massive polyphony of disconnected sounds descended upon him like a blanket, and he lost consciousness from the combined influence of the liquor and the fall.
He came to, uncertain as to how long he had been lying there. He sat up. The nude girl was gone from the sofa, another couple now sat where she had been. Neubarth got to his feet and looked around him. The crowd had thinned considerably, and the remaining revelers were almost unanimously in the final stages of intoxication. More than half of them were completely naked, so that Neubarth saw, as he peered through swollen lids, a strange montage of pink and brown skin dotted by the contrasting darkness of hair on rapidly moving heads, secreted in diffuse pubic areas.
He wanted another drink, so he shoved into a group of people and made his way through them and over to the coffee table that he couldn't find before. He had to drain all the remaining liquor to fill the sticky glass he had found. He drank and felt the haphazard mixture of fluids burn its way down his throat and plunk against his stomach lining like molten tar.
The drink soothed him through, and looking up from the stained table, he saw Beatrice Holman lying naked on the carpet a few feet from him. Her legs were spread wide, and she was laughing hysterically, her mountainous flesh duplicating the tempo of her glee by vibrating as though there were an earthquake within her. A fully clothed man bent between her legs, and Neubarth, moving to see better, saw that it was Harry, and that he was poling a bent, wire clothes-hanger into the hair-fringed mouth of Beatrice's colossal vagina.
"Oh, oh, ohmigod. Heeheehee!" she shrieked, writhing about like a harpooned whale. Her breasts, as large and unmuscled as cow udders, flopped against the carpet as she rolled about in a paroxysm of delight. Neubarth saw Ted Rhadaman standing off to the side, looking down upon the active spectacle of Beatrice's volcanically shaking body, while his arm was wound around the naked form of a woman next to him. Neubarth's vision blurred, and when things became clear again, he saw that the woman was Louise, and that her eyes were as blank as they had been at the card table earlier in the evening. She was looking down at Beatrice in rapt attention, but small moans came from her throat � the result of Rhadaman's caressing hand upon her flaccid left breast.
A rage overpowered Neubarth's drunken insensibility, and he moved in towards the tall, red-haired youth and the acquiescent Louise with his fists cocked and physical mayhem in his mind.
"You bastard!" he shouted, and rushed forward, though not having bothered to look down, his progress was soon interrupted as he struck his foot against Beatrice's widespread legs and fell on his face. At almost the same moment, someone reactivated the long-dormant phonograph, and the voice of a blues singer screeched out into the room at full volume. The sudden profusion of noise was accentuated by Beatrice's cries of "Do it to me! Do it! Do it!" She reached towards Harry, who squirmed away from her clutch, and then grabbed Neubarth, who was just climbing painfully to his knees. One look at Beatrice's perspiring, puffy face, and Neubarth scooted rapidly away too.
"A bunch punch! We're going to have a bunch punch over here!" someone yelled, and Beatrice, hearing the cry, readily proclaimed her enthusiasm for the idea by screaming, "Oh yes! I want all of you!" She tore at her groin, managed to drive three fingers deep into the dripping opening, and began to bounce around even more energetically than before.
Neubarth looked towards the knoll of quaking gelatin, and felt a revulsion that was stronger than his drunkenness and his general lust. There was a voice in his ear: "Why don't you be the first, Professor?" It was Rhadaman's voice, and Neubarth, turning to see him, barely had time to shout "No!" before someone grabbed him by the feet and pulled him onto his belly. His shorts were stripped off and he was lifted by several hands, and deposited, amid booming laughter, upon Beatrice's frantically pulsating form. She quickly grabbed his head and brought his lips down onto her own. Her teeth grated against his, and her tongue jammed up against the roof of his mouth. His partly rigid penis slipped into her vagina as neatly as into a greased funnel, and she began to move her gross body as if she were having a fit, shouting obscenities all the while into Neubarth's face. It was like riding a mad hippopotamus. Neubarth could only try to hang on tightly, knowing that any reciprocal movement on his part would be totally extraneous. It went on and on, until the music, the shouts and laughter, were all erased by the guttural gaspings against his ear. He imagined himself in a tiny raft, repeatedly being buffeted by a monstrous sea, and then suddenly, the storm passed, and he was thrown backward, then clutched by a pair of hands and thrown onto the floor.
He lay with his face against the carpet for a few minutes, waiting for his exhaustion to pass. Presently he looked up to see that someone else had taken his place between Beatrice's kicking legs. It appeared to be a boy. His body was ridiculously dwarfed by the massive areas of shaking flab beneath him, and his fingers pressed tightly into the gigantic sacks of flesh that were her breasts. The boy expired quickly. His body went limp, though Beatrice continued to jerk her hips even after he was through. More men followed, one after another, and Neubarth found that the sexual exhibition was beginning to interest him. He sat up, though he had to remain very still for a moment in deference to a pounding headache, and accepted a hand-rolled cigarette from a grinning young man who looked unfamiliar.
Though he was aware that the cigarette could only be marijuana, Neubarth sucked at it powerfully, feeling the sweet smoke cascade into his lungs and instantly bring a feeling of well-being to his dimmed senses. Perhaps the exponents of this narcotic are right, he thought. Perhaps it is not habit-forming. He suddenly thought of Ted Rhadaman and Louise. He looked for them, but they were nowhere in sight. They are probably all right, he reasoned. He had completely forgotten his former anger at Rhadaman's apparent beginning sexual intimacy with his wife. The world about him mellowed into a placid and euphoric pageant. He became intensely aware of the broad spectrum of colors in the smoke-clouded room, and he sat telling himself little one-line jokes, at which he laughed deliriously.
Louise came up beside him, and squatted down, still stark naked, beside him. Neubarth looked at her and smiled pleasantly, not hearing something she said. The blankness of her expression did not seem to him unusual. He stroked the long line of her bent thigh. She responded by running her hand over the mound of his stomach and down to his limp penis, which she fastened her hand around and jerked slowly. She fingered his scrotum, which contracted at her touch, and deep within him desire lifted its head again. Louise put something in his hand. He looked down to see two tiny yellow pills, both of which he popped into his mouth and swallowed without a moment's hesitation. Louise got up and moved past him toward Beatrice's sweating body.
The heavy woman seemed to be showing no lack of energy in her sexual endeavors. Another man was atop her, striving mightily to release himself within the overlarge cavity between her legs. Finally he shuddered violently and groaned several times like the mechanical voice of a child's doll. Beatrice threw him aside as if he were indeed a doll, and as he lay there breathing heavily, Neubarth saw that it was the businessman that he had ejected from the side of the young nude girl earlier in the evening.
Louise now stood between the outstretched thighs of Beatrice Holman, looking down upon that active hill of blubber. She began to sway in time to the music, and the lax globes of her buttocks tensed up into a semblance of youthful firmness. Beatrice began to bump up and down with her obese buttocks, and Neubarth could see the immense hole at her groin contract slightly and then yawn open again as she moved. Shining rivulets of dried and fresh semen, like snails' tracks, ran down onto her bouncing rump and matted the little cluster of hairs around her anus. Her pubic bush looked like pale horse hair, so gnarled and packed had it become from the continual deposits of various ejaculations and from the sweat of her own huge body and that of others. Louise sat down at Beatrice's side and ran her hand into the dense and twisted shrubbery. She twisted the clumps of hair between her fingers, disengaging them from each other, and then bent over and pressed her mouth against the puckered depression of Beatrice's navel. Her tongue darted out and stabbed into the dark crater, then moving her head down, she let her tongue run slowly downwards, leaving a wet path, toward the frontiers of Mrs. Holman's pubis. She nibbled at the coarse hair as her mouth reached it, but still continued to slide further down. Her tongue reached the stretched outer lips, and, as it did, Louise lifted her body and spread her legs out on each side of Beatrice's face.
Neubarth saw the fat woman's eager mouth pry up between the thighs, and her head and neck immediately begin to move convulsively.
Meanwhile, Louise had gained access to the soaked recess against which her face pressed. Her pink tongue snaked into the open grotto and ran along the glistening inner lips, then up to the small bulge of the clitoris. She tweaked it dexterously with her long tongue, and continued to do so as Beatrice's muffled groans rose in volume. Now Louise was making little sounds, too, panting them out past her frenzied tongue, and into the great slick-sided cavern of Beatrice Holman's vagina. They rocked back and forth upon the fatty cradle of Beatrice's back like a grotesque teeter-totter.
As Neubarth sat watching, the bodies of the two women grew indistinct, becoming finally only a wildly active pink blur. Their ecstatic cries blended with the music, and eventually, both of these sounds began to seem to him like a monotonic musical arrangement repeated endlessly. He fell over onto his side and went to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
He awoke painfully to find that someone had covered his naked body with a blanket. He lay there for a while, letting the physical properties of the room begin to register within his addled brain. Events of the night before were still very vague, but he remembered, if somewhat obscurely, that he had behaved in some instances in a most disgusting manner. He sat up and looked around him. There was no one in the spacious living room, though emptied bottles and overturned ashtrays abounded. The walls in some places were streaked with dried liquid and the carpet was muddy from the shoes of the previous night's guests. The furniture was disarranged � one rocking chair lay upon its side and a coffee table was overturned upon the sofa.
The bedroom door opened. He swiveled his head toward the sound to see Beatrice Holman emerge, clad in an orange bathrobe. She came to Neubarth, smiling as though he were an arriving guest and she was most happy to see him.
"Would you like some coffee, Professor Neubarth?" she asked in a syrupy voice. "It will only take a moment." Without waiting for his reply, she moved towards the kitchen, apparently bent upon proving herself the ideal hostess.
Didn't she remember? Neubarth wondered. It seemed incredible to him that she could have any memory of the previous evening and still maintain herself as though she had not behaved like the most wanton of sluts.
The front door opened and Ted Rhadaman entered, followed closely by Louise, and behind her, the man Neubarth knew as Harry. They were all three neatly dressed, and appeared well scrubbed and fresh of countenance too. Neubarth grabbed at his blanket, wound it more tightly around him, and remained sitting there, though his face twisted into an expression of perplexity.
"Louise, what about Farley?" Neubarth asked. "My God, he's been home alone all this time! He must think that we've been in an accident!"
"Now, now, darling," she said, moving over to him and running a hand through his hair. "It's all been taken care of. I've called mother and asked her to stay with him for a couple of days."
A couple of days. A couple of days. The words revolved in his mind, but found no touclipoint with logic.
"What on earth can you mean?" he asked in a loud voice. He got to his feet and, retaining his tight hold on the blanket, stared at his smiling wife. "I have classes to teach!"
Rhadaman moved forward, gently nudging Louise aside. She went over to the couch and sat down.
"That's been taken care of, too, Professor," Rhadaman said. Your wife called the dean and had you excused for the rest of the week. Because of ... illness." Rhadaman smiled broadly, revealing a mouthful of gleaming white teeth. His eyes drilled into those of Neubarth, who felt a weird chill immediately begin to pulse within him. The eyes were as blank, and as lacking in warmth, as tiny sheets of ice.
"No!" yelled Neubarth. "You dirty son of a bitch!" He threw himself towards Rhadaman, intent upon destroying the strange menace that emanated from the youth's terrible eyes. Rhadaman, however, sidestepped Neubarth's rush neatly, so that the enraged man's swinging fist fell instead upon the side of Harry's head. The recipient of the blow fell over backwards, and Neubarth fell on top of him. The blanket came off and floated down onto the carpet to lie in a heap. The man beneath him began to weep, shrieking through his tears, "He hit me! Oh, he hit me!" and Neubarth rolled off to the side and looked back in amazement at this tall, well-built man who was sobbing like a woman.
"You see, Professor," said Rhadaman from the sofa, where he was reposing contentedly beside Louise, "Harry is just a little bit gay. So he just despises being struck."
Beatrice Holman came into the room, attracted by the noise. She gasped when she saw Harry lying full-length on the floor, and ran to his side to begin caressing his contorted face and brow.
"Have they hurt my baby? Has the mean man hit him?" She cradled his head against her gargantuan bosom and began to rock gently, as though the crying man were an infant.
Neubarth stared at the spectacle, dumbfounded. He was oblivious of the fact that he was sitting there in the nude until Rhadaman said in an unctuous voice: "I do believe your privates are showing, Professor." Neubarth snatched up the blanket and rewound it around his paunchy middle. Louise laughed. He looked at her to see that she had a glass of liquor in her hand and was sipping from it.
Harry's sobs subsided, and Beatrice patted his head comfortingly and got up. "Would you like your coffee now, Professor?" Neubarth stared at her. Were they all mad, he wondered. He had surmised that Harry and Beatrice were husband and wife, and he couldn't understand why the woman showed so little anger over the matter of her husband being struck down. She must be used to seeing him humiliated, he decided.
"No," said Rhadaman, answering for him, "the Professor doesn't care for any coffee. He would prefer a drink." The grinning Ted held out a bottle of scotch. His eyes were filled with varicolored lights, which made Neubarth dizzy as he looked back into them.
"No, no," he managed to say. "I couldn't drink so early in the morning."
"It's five o'clock in the afternoon, Victor." Louise said with a laugh.
Neubarth arose slowly, then walked with hesitant steps to the sofa and took the offered scotch bottle along with an empty glass. He sat down beside Louise, filled the glass to the brim, and drank off half of it. He gagged slightly, but nevertheless returned the glass to his mouth and drank some more.
"Uh, after you finish your drink, Professor, you'd better get dressed," Ted Rhadaman said. "Some lovely people like those we had here last night are due to arrive in a few minutes. And there is one guest coming whom you should be most interested in." He grinned like an executioner who had just swung his axe in a perfect downstroke.
Neubarth hurriedly got up and, after searching around a bit, found his clothes lying in a little pile near the card table. He was directed to the bathroom, where he showered, washed up, and then clambered into his rather soiled clothing.
At a little after six, the evening's guests began to dribble in. Neubarth saw very few people that he could remember from the night before. He was seated in the comfortable rocking chair, and he drank moderately from the cocktail glass that he held, which never seemed to empty completely before Beatrice Holman, who was acting as a sort of barmaid, refilled it. She saw to it that all guests who arrived were supplied with a drink even before they were introduced to the company at large.
The whiskey, abetted by the generous portion of alcohol still in Neubarth's bloodstream, seemed to shoot directly to his brain, so that his agitated thoughts had long since quieted, and his senses in general were becoming more and more numbed. He felt very relaxed. It was like lying in bed in the morning, stretching and feeling the voluptuous tiredness which was a residue of the night's sleep still lingering in one's bones. He let a mouthful of the amber liquid roll against his tongue and teeth, and he savored the distinctly masculine taste of the scotch before he gulped it down.
The door opened to admit another guest, and Neubarth turned his head in that direction, ready to meet the newcomer with an amiable smile. A young woman came into the room. Neubarth saw the bursting fullness beneath her dress front, and knew before he had even looked at her face, that this was Marnie. She looked around the room. Her eyes drifted over Professor Neubarth as though he were just another stranger, though he fastened his eyes upon her, unable to divert his gaze from this vision of youthful loveliness. She was even more attractive than he remembered her having been. Her short brown hair gleamed beneath the subdued lights, the golden highlights springing into sight gemlike. The face her beautiful hair framed was pink and fresh-looking and her breasts bulged tightly against the blue fabric of her very short dress. The skirt fell to a point about eight inches above her knees, revealing firm, unstockinged thighs and calves. As she accepted a drink from Beatrice, and walked across the room toward Rhadaman, Neubarth watched the full muscles of her buttocks move like twin animals beneath the fabric of her abbreviated dress. A surge of his old feeling for her hit him, accompanied by the familiar stirrings of lust.
The music started again � the same kind of music that had played the night before, its rhythm frantic and including no distinguishable melody. Neubarth wanted to get up and go to Marnie, then begin some conversation with her. It would be a little embarrassing, he decided, but if she responded in a friendly fashion it would be worth it. More and more people arrived, and soon the living room was every bit as crowded as it had been the night before. The people laughed among themselves, and talked so that the sounds of their conversations wafted to Neubarth's ears collectively, and seemed to them like the purring of a great machine. The rocking chair and the liquor had soothed him into a sort of torpor, and though he was tempted to just sit and continue to drink, the excitement of seeing Marnie triggered him into getting up and starting in her direction.
He moved with great difficulty through the clustered groups of people, keeping his eye upon the general area where he knew Rhadaman and Marnie to be sitting. He had almost worked his way to them when he heard the sounds of applause, and derisive catcalls. To his left, he saw what appeared to be a woman prancing around before a noisy group of people. She was dressed in a long, black dress with lacy sleeves, and wore very high heels She grinned and fluttered her hands extravagantly and spun around on the toe of one shoe. Neubarth perceived that the long blonde hair on the dancer's head was a wig. It almost came off a few times, but each time that it teetered, the dancer reached up and replaced it. Neubarth suddenly recognized the grimacing face behind the perspiration-runneled cosmetic powder. It was Harry! The costumed man seemed to be in ecstasy. He alternately danced a few steps, then strutted around in little circles with a mincing walk. He behaved as though he were showing off a new outfit which he was very proud of. And indeed, such seemed to be the case. He ran his hands down his sides lingeringly, like a woman reveling in the bountiful curves of her body. Except in his case, there were no curves. He also patted his flat chest, stroking the black cloth as though caressing a pair of full breasts. Although he was vaguely appalled by the scene, Neubarth felt forced to join in the shouts of merriment which emanated from the absurd man's grouped audience.
He saw Ted Rhadaman's distinctively red hair moving above the crowd to Harry. Neubarth pressed his way forward, so as to see what new events might be in the making. Upon reaching the front of the pack, he immediately saw Marnie's ripe-bodied figure beside Rhadaman's angular frame. He also saw Beatrice Holman standing near Harry, and laughing hilariously at his antics. Louise was there, too, standing back in the crowd. Neubarth could see that she held a whiskey glass.
Rhadaman motioned for the people to be silent so that he might say something. "Well, how do you all like the lovely lady?" Harry curtsied and the crowd applauded.
"I thought we might introduce a little variation to the sweet thing's show." Ted reached out and plucked Harry's cheek, who then giggled like an excited woman. "I'm about to show you how this strange breed ... he gestured towards Harry, " ... makes 'the beast with two backs'. Except in this case there will be only one back."
Harry's smile vanished, and his large blue eyes expressed pure terror.
"Teddie!" he stuttered. "You can't mean it! Not in front of all of them!" He pointed with a shaking hand towards the attentive audience.
"Oh my yes, honey, I do indeed mean it." His grin never subsiding, Rhadaman clutched Harry's shoulder and pushed him violently down onto his face. The man's nose hit the carpet with a substantial impact, and it began to bleed. The dark red blood pooled up under his head, which was pressed against the floor, and Neubarth could hear muffled sobs coming from Harry's twisted mouth. Rhadaman picked up the ends of Harry's long gown, and tossed the garment up over the crying man's shoulders. Beneath the dress Harry wore men's boxer shorts, which Ted slowly pulled downwards over the hairy flanks. Harry's quaking and masculinely -haired buttocks were exposed. Ted curtly told him to get up on his knees but to keep his head down. Harry quickly complied, and Rhadaman bent down and spread the cheeks of the untanned buttocks to reveal the hair-fringed, puckered crater of his victim's anus.
"This is one of the seats of sweetie's rather aberrant delights," he announced to the crowd, who had grown strangely silent.
A portly man pushed himself forward. "This is shameful!" he said loudly. "Stop this right now!"
He walked to Ted and reached down to grab him. He never completed the gesture, however, because Rhadaman looked up at him and fixed a gaze upon him which caused even Neubarth, in his comparatively remote position, to feel a little dizzy. The man stumbled back, and Rhadaman said in a low voice, "Do you wish to be next, sir?"
The man turned and pushed his way rapidly through the people, who parted before his flight, slammed against the front door, grappled with the knob for a moment, then ran outside.
In the meantime, Rhadaman had extracted a little tube from his pocket, and was busy applying what looked like hand cream to the dark cleft between Harry's buttocks. His protuberant backside shook with fear and shame, and he moaned repeatedly, though the moans became shrill cries when Rhadaman dropped his pants, bent over Harry's upraised buttocks, and began making forceful thrusts with his erect penis. The shocked audience drank heavily during the degenerate exhibition, seeking to remove some of the embarrassment that almost all of them felt. Ted finished, drew back, and pulled up his pants. Harry remained as he was for a moment, crying very audibly now. A small trickle of blood dripped from the groove in his violated rear and added its small volume to the blood already on the carpet from his bloody nose.
The participants then went their separate ways. Harry, still crying and still clad in the ludicrous black dress, went to the bedroom to recuperate from his ordeal, and Ted Rhadaman returned to the couch where he had been sitting earlier. Marnie was at his side. Beatrice followed Harry into the bedroom, probably to commiserate with him. Neubarth continued to drink quite heavily, and began to think of going to Marnie again. The fact that she was in the company of Rhadaman was a little intimidating to him, more so now that he had seen him enact such a savage attack upon poor Harry's body. But Marnie was there, and she was beautiful. She was once mine, Neubarth thought. He remembered how startlingly huge her unclad breasts had been, how her firm muscles had kept the monolithic risings of flesh in an upright position. They had sagged hardly at all. And the crisp foliage between her plump thighs. It was too much. He made his way toward the sofa, running some fragments of possible opening conversational gambits through his mind.
He came to a halt before the couple on the couch and tried to stand without teetering.
"Hello, Marnie," he said. "It's been quite a while since I've seen you." She didn't acknowledge his presence, though Ted looked up with his now familiar grin. "Almost time for final exams, eh?" Neubarth continued falteringly.
Marnie agreed that it was indeed, and Neubarth, taking her reply as an indication that he had regained her favor, quickly took a seat by her side and continued a monologue of irrelevant banter. He talked about the lovely weather they were having, about the fact that he was personally glad that the school year was almost over, and then again about the warm weather. He remarked that the summerlike temperatures made even a man of his years feel like hitting the "old swimming hole." He concluded with a laugh, then looked anxiously to the girl, hoping to see her exhibit a response of some sort. Finally, Marnie did look at him. She managed a timid smile, which made Neubarth's hearth thump at a rapid pace. He felt assured, and gratified, that that episode in his office had apparently been forgotten. Then the three of them, even Ted, laughed and joked among themselves, while the party grew in intensity around them.
Looking up now and then, Neubarth saw Louise several times during the next hour. She always seemed to have a glass in her hand, and moved with increasing unsteadiness through the milling crowd. Neubarth glanced up on one occasion to see her standing very close to a young man, smiling up at him coquettishly, and touching his arm a little too often. One strap of her party dress had come off her shoulder, and her diminutive right breast threatened to pop out of its scant covering.
Neubarth paid her little attention, however. He was too engrossed in Marnie's gleaming teeth and in the palely lipsticked lips that curved away from them as she smiled. He glanced down at her breasts very often, and he had to exercise a great deal of self-discipline to keep himself from reaching over and cupping a hand around one of the mountainous projections that stood out behind her dress. The liquor was rapidly going to his head, however, so that eventually he slid slowly up beside her so that their thighs touched. He sidled his hand up onto her meaty thigh and then continued the conversation as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She did not repulse him, but seemed to lean even further towards him. Her breast prodded disturbingly against his shirt.
Without announcing his departure, Ted got up and melted into the seething crowd. Neubarth took advantage of his being alone for the first time with the girl, to request that she accompany him to the kitchen for a drink of water. They both got up, and Neubarth took Marnie's hand as they walked toward the kitchen door. Once inside, Neubarth, to make things look authentic, got a drink of water, then stepped back to the girl, who was leaning against a cupboard. He put his arms around her, and she leaned into him, acting as though she had been waiting for this embrace to take place. Their lips met softly, and then the pressure increased, and their tongues lunged feverishly against the sides of each other's mouths. The girl drew back, and with eyes closed and lips wetly parted, she panted, "Oh Victor, I want you so much! I've wanted to feel your body against mine for such a long time!"
Neubarth groaned with excitement, and directed his shaking hand to the girl's quivering breast. His tight clutch of the taut mound caused Marnie to writhe with delirious pleasure. She gasped hoarsely into his ear. He fumbled at the buttons on the front of her dress, got several of them undone, and pulled the opening apart. Marnie's white hillocks cascaded into the gap, their ruby tips already rising into hard little plums, and Neubarth dropped his face down onto one ivory outcropping of youthful meat, and ran his tongue over the smooth flesh, until he reached the crimson knot of her nipple. He bit into it softly, then sucked strongly at it, feeling the lump of flesh bulge even more inside his mouth. "Ah! ah!" she exhaled, while gripping the back of his neck, and pulling him in closely between the immense cushions. After a while, Neubarth lifted himself from her and rather frantically directed her over to the kitchen table, then lifted her onto the white table cloth.
Neubarth divested himself of his shorts and pants hastily, while Marnie finished taking off her dress. She lay there with only the transparent flimsiness of her panties preventing her from being totally nude. Neubarth saw the dark shadow of her pubis through the thin silk and, unable to contain himself any longer, ripped them from her. She immediately spread her legs in anticipation, allowing the dark brown clump of hair to part and reveal the dripping wet inner reaches of her vagina, which shone like a newly opening rose blossom under the lights. He rose up onto the table between her legs, dropped his body upon her and grabbed his penis, using it like a fat finger to pummel her rigid clitoris. She gripped his buttocks like a tightening vise, and he felt her nails bite into his flesh. Unable to manipulate her clitoris any longer without ejaculating, he thrust forward, and his distended penis sank into her ready vagina so completely that part of his scrotum intruded also. They began to pump in mutual rhythm, and the table creaked under them. Neubarth reached climax rather quickly, owing to his over-excited state, but continued to pump anyway, while the last vestiges of his outpouring sperm flooded into Marnie's saturated grotto. She kept up the incessant grinding motion of her loins after Neubarth's penis had begun to lose its erection, and he reciprocated for as long as he could, finally letting his weight relax upon her.
Lying as he was, with his head beside Marnie's, Neubarth smelled the sweet musky odor of marijuana. He partially raised his head to see Ted Rhadaman leaning against the cupboard. The youth gazed at them with interest, and puffed at a twisted, brown cigarette. He had apparently entered the room while Neubarth and Marnie were at the height of sexual excitement, and too distracted to notice his arrival.
"Well," said Rhadaman, flicking his smoldering cigarette butt into the sink, "that was at least a little entertaining, but Professor ... I hope for Marnie's sake that you develop a bit more sexual stamina." He grinned broadly, and his hair glowed like fire. "I suggest that you both get dressed now," he continued, "and accompany me out to the living room. Beatrice's niece, Holly, has just arrived, and I'm sure you'd both like to meet her." He walked over to the table and gave Neubarth a perfunctory pat on the rump, at which the man slid off the table and rapidly began to don his clothing. Rhadaman helped Marnie up to a sitting position, and made some complimentary remark about the fullness of her breasts. He then stroked one of them, running his finger down the long slope, and gently tweaking the nipple. The great mound vibrated under his touch. Neubarth was about to tell him to keep his hands off her, but he caught sight of Rhadaman's eyes in the shadow created by his bent head. They were as gray and blank as a blanket of fog, like the eyes of a corpse. He suddenly looked up to see Neubarth watching him, and the colors danced again deep within indefinitely colored irises.
"Hurry up," he said, and walked past them to the door into the living room.
"And Holly, this is Professor Victor Neubarth. Professor ... Holly Ramsdale, our lovely hostess's niece." Rhadaman concluded the introduction, and Holly bowed slightly to Neubarth. She looked to be a girl of about sixteen, and she had a pleasantly fresh, well-scrubbed look about her. A little patch of freckles adorned the bridge of her nose, and her lower lip was much fuller than her upper, which lent a sensual caste to her youthful face. Her slight body had bloomed prematurely. Her breasts, though not fully developed, pressed out tightly against the fabric of a dress that looked too small to Neubarth. Her hips had apparently begun to widen and they strained at the meager confines of her outgrown summer dress. As she turned to go, Neubarth saw that her buttocks were unusually protuberant. She really should wear a girdle, Neubarth thought, as he watched the jutting hummocks of her too-obvious rear quiver deliciously as she walked away to lose herself in the crowd.
The recent sexual exertion had sobered Neubarth, so with Marnie on his arm, he went in search of something to drink. They acquired a whole fifth of good scotch, two glasses, and after Neubarth had pushed a man who had passed out from drunkenness off from the couch, a place to sit. Marnie lay back, propped her legs up on Neubarth's lap, and they both sat sipping the tangy scotch. The party seethed around them, guffaws and screams of delight hung in the smoke-filled air, the stereo continued its bombastic outcry, and people lurched about here and there. Neubarth amused himself by running his hand up over the supple muscles of Marnie's long legs. Her smooth thighs were very warm to the touch, as the bodily heat that she had generated during their lovemaking session on the kitchen table had not yet evaporated. Neubarth slid his hand up the yielding flesh until he reached the crotch of her panties, and was just starting to stroke the little rise of silk-covered hair and flesh when he heard Ted Rhadaman's voice boom out from across the room.
"Gather around, ladies and gentlemen! I've arranged another little item of delectation for us all!"
Neubarth and Marnie both got up and walked towards the sound of his voice. They had been enjoying their comfortable interlude on the sofa, but the intense quality of Rhadaman's voice had prodded the curiosity in them both. Whatever else he might be, Neubarth thought, the young man is indeed an inventive master of ceremonies. They worked their way through the gathering people until they stood very near the front. A large table stood on end against the wall, and Rhadaman held Holly Ramsdale by the hand. The girl had obviously drank an unaccustomed amount of liquor since Neubarth had last seen her, for she was very unsteady on her feet and she giggled often for no apparent reason.
"We're going to play a game, with sweet Holly here as our willing subject," Rhadaman announced, as the audience applauded. "Well need four or five belts," he continued. Several men stripped theirs off and handed them to Rhadaman. Neubarth began to feel a little uneasy about what Rhadaman might have in mind for the lovely young girl. He looked around for Beatrice, but she was nowhere in sight, nor could he see Louise anywhere. Even if the game got out of hand, he knew there was no stopping the diabolical Rhadaman, so, he decided, one might as well enjoy what was about to happen.
Rhadaman extracted a handkerchief from one of his pockets, and after binding Holly's eyes with it, spun her around. "Oooh," she yelled, and laughed as though it were all great fun. She almost fell down from the dizziness inspired by the spinning and her own drunkenness.
"Now this is going to be very enjoyable for you, Holly," Rhadaman said in a tone one uses when trying to persuade a child or a puppy to do something. She laughed in a high, childlike voice, greatly caught up in the excitement of it all. Neubarth began to feel sick. She is so young, he thought, and she doesn't know of the bestiality of this Rhadaman. He started to turn and leave, but the crowd behind him was packed in solidly, their heads straining to see the impending spectacle.
Rhadaman pushed Holly gently back against the table.
"What are we going to do, Ted?" she asked in a gay voice.
"Just hold your arms up, Holly," he said, "and the fun will begin very soon."
She immediately complied, and Rhadaman looped one of the belts around her wrist and then knotted the leather up around one leg of the uptilted table. He did the same with her other wrist, and then bent to secure her feet. Her budding breasts strained against the tightly drawn material of her skimpy dress. She continued to laugh, expelling the giggles with little shivers of expectation. Rhadaman soon had both of her ankles bound and secured to the table legs. In this position her arms and legs were drawn widely apart. Her small stomach swelled and contracted as she breathed, and the grouped people eyed her strained body with collective greed.
"This isn't much fun, Ted," she said plaintively. She wriggled against the binding pressure of the straps. "C'mon, let's do something exciting."
"Oh, I think we will all find this exciting enough, Holly," he said, with a leering grin back towards the audience. "Now, to begin with, I think I should give you a little air." He undid the topmost button of her dress, and then the second.
"But I can breathe all right, Ted," she said in a voice a little tinged with worry.
"Now you just leave it to me, Holly. Here, have another drinky-poo." He pushed a glass against her mouth, and poured the liquor through her pouting lips. Some dribbled on her dress, but most of it she swallowed. "And another." Rhadaman requisitioned another drink from someone's outstretched hand, and poured this too into her mouth. She gagged a little, but continued to swallow until the glass was empty. Rhadaman then stepped back and watched for a minute. The additional whiskey seemed to take its effect on her almost instantaneously. She began to laugh excitedly again, her trepidation apparently gone.
"Oh Ted, I feel so silly," she said between little ringing peals of tittered laughter.
"Yes, Holly, it's good whiskey isn't it?" Rhadaman said as he bent forward and loosened another button on her dress front. He undid all the buttons very slowly, and her white slip shone through the gap. The people, grouped around the table on which the girl was spread-eagled, stared as though they were a single wide-eyed animal. Rhadaman stepped over to a shelf and came back with a pair of scissors in his hand.
"Hey, take this blindfold off, Ted. Heeheehee. I don't know whaz happening," the girl said fuzzily.
"But that would spoil the game, Holly," Rhadaman said as he slid the cutting edge of the scissors under the shoulder straps of her dress, and snipped the two tiny bands of cloth apart. "And your part is just about to begin." He cut through the bunched cloth of the skirt of her dress, up to the opening of its unbuttoned front, and then pulled the dismembered cloth from her body. Her abbreviated slip was tightly drawn around the middles of her chunky thighs.
Someone came forward with another drink, and at Rhadaman's gesture of approval, set the glass against her lips and tipped the liquid up. She drank with gusto, and even mumbled "Thanks" after the glass was emptied. Rhadaman began to cut upward from the hem of her slip. The scissors meshed almost silently, and soon the length of her white silk slip was bisected. Ted snipped the two shoulder bands in two, then pulled away the white, clinging material. The watching crowd gasped in unison as the firm, young body of the girl, clad only in bra and stretched white panties was revealed to them. Upon viewing the plump vista of flesh before him, Neubarth felt lust mount in him again, even though he was appalled by the degrading display that Rhadaman was making of the ignorant young girl's body.
Ted placed the scissors against the depression in the girl's bra, between her two breasts, and cut it, then severed the shoulder straps. Holly felt the cold metal of the scissors blade against her skin this time, and asked in a frightened voice, "Whaz this? I'm gettin' cold. Whatcha doin'?"
"Just giving you some air, Holly. You'll need as much room to breathe as possible in a minute." Rhadaman said as he clutched the sundered support garment, pulled it away and threw it on the floor. Her firm young breasts shook as they were uncovered. Her nipples were pink and the halos around them quite small. An open window behind the bound girl caused cold air to rush in upon her. Neubarth could see tiny eruptions forming on the darker flesh at the tips of her white breasts, and the nipples themselves begin to grow rigid, as the chill struck them.
"C'mon, lemme go. I don't think I like this game," she said as a growing fear became more obvious in her voice. She bucked out against the straps, and her body seemed even more desirable as she struggled to get free. The low mound of her pubis pushed against its silken covering, and her taut breasts bounced with exertion. Rhadaman bent to cut away the last barrier between her and complete nudity. He inserted the scissors blades into one leg opening of her panties and cut upward to the waistband, then repeated on the other side. The flimsy scrap of fabric fell away, and the fluffy muff between her widespread thighs came into view. The crowd murmured appreciatively. Their eyes were riveted on the curly patch of pubic hair that widened to reveal parted lips and a glistening pinkness as she strained against her bonds.
"Voila!" Rhadaman shouted.
"Ted!" Holly said in a loud voice. "I don't think I have my clothes on. What are you doing to me"
"You're right, Holly," said Ted in a low, menacing voice. "You're quite naked. You've shamelessly discarded your clothing, and now, because you are such a little harlot, you're only too eager to take on all the men here." He stroked her ripe breasts, fondling the rigid nipples briefly, then patted the light brown hair between her legs and tweaked the widespread lips at her vaginal opening.
"Aunt Bea! Aunt Bea!" Holly screamed. "Help me Aunt Bea!" She wriggled violently, trying to work her hands and feet free.
"Beatrice isn't here, Holly." Rhadaman said matter-of-factly, as he pulled the table on which the girl was pinioned away from the wall, and then lifted it and let it fall onto its legs. Now Holly lay spread out upon the smooth surface of the table, life a bound guinea pig awaiting dissection.
"Well, who's first?" Rhadaman asked of the crowd. The watching people seemed a little taken aback by the girl's protestations, which had now changed to loud weeping.
"Very well," he said. "I'll be most happy to initiate the proceedings." He stripped off his trousers and shorts, and clambered up on the table with his erect red organ poised for entry.
Holly just had time to stutter "But I've never�" before Ted's bulging penis slammed against the hair-fringed portal of her sex. He poked violently a few times, and then his huge penis sank into Holly's unwilling vagina. She uttered a long scream of pain as he entered, and then went limp. Rhadaman pumped on for some time, and then without any sign of having reached climax, got up and climbed from the table.
Even before Rhadaman had pulled his trousers up, another man climbed up to take his place upon Holly's inert body. As the man worked on her, his rigid member stabbing into and withdrawing from the defenseless crevice of her sex with the regularity of a piston, Holly awoke from the stupor she had fallen into when Ted had initially forced his lust upon her. She moaned loudly, and started sobbing again. As the third man took his place between her shuddering thighs, she started to reciprocate his action upon her body by humping her loins up to meet his thrusting staff. Her horrified mind could no longer control her sexually awakening body, and her moans and sobs were soon interspersed with the guttural gasps of passion. More men followed, both old and young, and towards the end of Holly's ordeal, a middle-aged woman flung off her clothing, and laid her genital area upon the girl's tear-soaked face, while she plunged her own face into the patch of matted hair at Holly's groin. The crowd could all see the woman's active tongue probing into the livid confines of the girl's sex, from which the semen of many men dripped. Holly responded to the woman's eager ministrations also, arching her saturated grotto up to slam repeatedly against the woman's sucking mouth. After a while, no one volunteered to continue the desecration of Holly's youthful body.
Neubarth gazed at the table where the girl lay bound. Her breath was labored, and sweat poured down the soft curves of her body. Her crotch, which yawned open a few feet away, was running over with the climactic deposits of the men who had used her. The sheen that had been in her virginal bush when she was first unveiled was gone now; her pubic hair was gummed to her skin, and a small trickle of shockingly bright blood ran down through the packed hair to her anus. As her body shook with her heavy breathing, her ripe breasts rose and fell furiously. Looking down on her tightly bound form, Neubarth was reminded of pictures he had seen of Aztec sacrificial victims spread-eagled upon stone altars.
"Well," Rhadaman said, as he walked forward, "that was good, wasn't it?" He walked to the other end of the table, and lifted it and its burden to an upright position again. Holly sagged against the straps, and as she stood vertically, her breasts jutted out like two symmetrical hills, each tipped with another cranberry-colored little peak. Rhadaman unbuckled the belts that encircled her ankles, and then stood up and unlatched the buckles that held her wrists. The girl kept her eyes closed and Rhadaman kept a firm grasp on her arm as she stepped away from the table.
"You didn't by any chance think that you were through yet, did you Holly?" Rhadaman asked. "No, we wouldn't hear of it. We want to satisfy your whorish delights entirely."
The girl opened her eyes to see Rhadaman peering down at her with the look of a blood-crazed animal. Her eyes widened with horror, and she struggled to get free.
"No! no! Haven't you done enough to me!" she shrieked.
"Not nearly enough, my dear," Rhadaman replied as he spun her face down against the table top. Harry, who had not been seen for some time, came forth to secure the buckles again about Holly's feet and hands, as Rhadaman held tightly to her frantically writhing body. Upon realizing that she was bound again, Holly broke forth into a chorus of wailing sobs.
"I've seen that many of you have noticed this young trollop's unusually developed backside," Rhadaman said, addressing the audience at large. "Observe how full and delectable it is." He reached back and patted Holly's rear, the flesh of which vibrated as she sobbed. He held up a jar of clear ointment. "Avail yourselves of my resources and have a go!" Neubarth looked on Holly's protruding buttocks, and then realized that the sight was very exciting to him. He became aware of his erect penis. He broke from Marnie's grasp on his arm, and forced his way to the front of the crowd.
"Ah, our ever ready Professor," Rhadaman said through a big grin. "Here, I'll help you get started." He spread the quaking cheeks of Holly's buttocks and applied the clear cream to the area around the tiny tan anus, then poked some up the little hole for good measure. The girl's crying became louder again. "Don't, oh, please don't!" she begged. Neubarth was too excited to even hear her pleas. He climbed rapidly out of his pants and underwear, then pressed his unclothed body against her back, and reached around to grab a pert breast in each hand. Then he bent at the knees and endeavored to introduce his throbbing organ to the secreted cavity between the fat pillows of the girl's buttocks. With a little smile, Harry came forward to assist him. He clutched Neubarth's penis and pushed it up into the resistant opening.
Professor Neubarth felt the ecstatic pleasure of entry, and he pumped mindlessly away, oblivious to the girl's piercing screams. He reached climax and a chain of shocks shook his body as the white stream of his orgasm shot upward into the girl's anal channel. He withdrew and saw the translucent stream of his jissom dribble down from between her shaking buttocks. His pants and shorts were handed to him, along with another drink, and he made his way back to Marnie, who immediately grasped him by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd and over to the deserted sofa.
"How could you Victor?" she demanded of him while he slowly drew on his clothes. "That was the most degrading thing I have ever witnessed. That poor girl ... " Neubarth had no reply, in fact, he found it difficult to verbalize at all. His large intake of liquor was hitting him. The world around him periodically became fuzzy, and he blacked out entirely from time to time. From behind the wall of packed backs, they heard Holly's shrieks as she continued to noisily protest the succession of indignities perpetrated upon her. Neubarth sucked at his drink, and Marnie, despairing of eliciting a response to her accusations, sank back against the sofa and drank from her own glass. They sat like that for about a quarter of an hour, each becoming steadily drunker.
At the end of that time there were no more feminine outcries from Holly, and Neubarth looked up and saw, through the fog in his brain, the crowd part, and Holly's nude and bleeding body being helped off to the bedroom. Then, into the gap in the crowd filed Rhadaman and Harry, followed by several of the more avid watchers. They all walked over to the sofa on which Marnie and Neubarth rec-lined and came to a halt just in front of the bleary-eyed duo. Ted Rhadaman smiled down. Neubarth could make out some instrument in his hands, which he was whacking preparatorily against his thigh.
"You can just go to sleep if you want, Professor," said Rhadaman. "We have something that we want to take up with Marnie. Would you stand up please, dear?" Marnie stared back at him dumbly, making no attempt to move. Two grinning young men moved to her and, taking her by the arms, lifted her upright. Neubarth fought against his liquor-induced dizziness and tried to stand up, so that he could intervene in whatever Rhadaman intended to do to Marnie. But Rhadaman pushed the cylindrical instrument into Neubarth's chest, which toppled him awkwardly back onto the couch, and then waved it in his face. Neubarth saw that it was a tightly braided leather quirt.
"An interesting device, eh, Professor?" said Rhadaman. "I'm told that it once belonged to an SS officer." Neubarth swiveled his head to see Marnie standing between the two young men, who still maintained a tight grip on her arms. Her eyes were clouded by her intoxication, though her expression indicated that she was puzzled as to what was going on. She turned her eyes imploringly upon Neubarth, who tried to get up again, only to be prodded back again by the ugly whip.
"Now, now, Professor. It's rather pointless to try to interfere when one is as tipsy as you are, wouldn't you say?" Rhadaman beat the quirt into the palm of his hand. "Besides, we don't have anything too terrible in mind for delicious Marnie. It's just that these fellows here would like to have a look at those enormous boobs of hers." Hearing these words, Marnie's eyes grew very large, and she began to struggle to free herself from the relentless hold that Rhadaman's two henchmen had on her arms. "And I would like to try out this lovely little instrument," Rhadaman said in conclusion.
"No!" Neubarth yelled, and jumped up, only to be pushed back down and held there by several men who were as drunk as he.
"Victor! Victor!" Marnie screamed. She tried to kick at her captors, but the youths stepped behind her, while still clutching each of her arms. They forced her down onto her knees and Rhadaman stepped up to her and grasped the front of her dress, then ripped it downward. The fabric parted easily, and she screamed obscenities at him as he tore the rest of the dress from her body. He motioned for the young men to stand her on her feet again, and when they did, he reached out and plucked the straps of her slip apart. It fell to the floor, and Marnie's unfettered breasts thrust out in unadorned magnificence. There were cries of admiration from the assembled party, and Ted grasped one great mound in his hand and squeezed until the pain changed Marnie's shouts of defiance to low whimpers. He released his tight hold on her breast and stroked it, twisting the large, rosy nipple between his fingers until it grew erect.
"Take off her pants, Ted," one of the young men holding her suggested in a throaty voice.
"Ah, yes," said Rhadaman, and he bent and ripped away the bit of diaphanous silk that had cloaked Marnie's loins. He immediately ran his fingers through the hair at her crotch, which was still matted from the sexual activity she had indulged in with Neubarth a few hours earlier. Upon seeing this, Neubarth fought to gain his feet, but was gripped with merciless intensity and held in his seat by several strong hands.
"Everything about your body is splendid, Marnie," Rhadaman said. She shuddered spasmodically as he ran his hand over one firm breast, rippling the heavy flesh with his fingers.
"Well, let's get her on the floor," he said, and the young men instantly complied by pushing her down onto her stomach and releasing their holds. Neubarth heard, through the numbness in his head, the sharp hiss of the whip in the air, and then a thwack as it struck home, accompanied by Marnie's scream of agony.
Her white buttocks were streaked by a bright necklace of tiny droplets of blood. Rhadaman struck again and Marnie rolled over, shrieking with the pain of the blow. She tired to cover her genitals with her hands, but Ted redirected the next blow to fall upon her exposed breasts. The white, fleshy hillocks shook as the lash landed upon them, and as Marnie lifted her hands to belatedly shield her breasts, the stinging leather popped between her legs. She moaned shrilly, like a rabbit when struck by a bullet. Neubarth could see the red trail left by the whip across the snowy elevations of her breasts. The line dipped across one pink nipple, and as she twisted violently to evade the pain of the cracking quirt, Neubarth saw that same bloody trail across her lower belly, arrowing down into her pubis and losing itself in the hairy regions of her crotch. Neubarth tried to get up again, but this time, instead of being held in place, he was struck by someone's fist. He toppled against the cushions and partially lost consciousness.
When he came to, he saw that Harry now wielded the quirt. He slashed down with effeminate ferocity, screaming, "Take that you bitch! You little whore!" in a high voice. He seemed to be aiming exclusively at Marnie's groin, and she continued to shriek as the whip snapped against the delicate opening of her vagina. She tried to climb to her feet as Neubarth watched, but Rhadaman came forward and shoved her back down. He bent and grabbed one of her legs, then instructed one of his henchmen to hold the other, and they both stretched the girl's limbs apart, which provided Harry with a perfect target for the cracking leather thong. Rhadaman's frizzy hair, as he bent to his loathsome endeavors, glowed as fiercely as many geysers of molten lava. Neubarth saw Marnie's white body becoming increasingly crisscrossed by red streaks, her head thrown back and her eyes and mouth startlingly open. Her great breasts vibrated like earthquaking mountains of quartz.
Suddenly Rhadaman leaped up and snatched the quirt away from Harry, whose lips were flecked with spittle and whose eyes had begun to look like blue glass. Rhadaman pushed him back, and Harry slammed into the seat of an easy chair, then he and the chair flipped up and Neubarth could see Harry's shoes flail at the air as he did several backward somersaults. Rhadaman stepped up to stand astride Marnie's red and white body, and as he gazed down upon the girl's splendidly equipped chest, he spoke in a low voice to the watching party of tormentors: "Now, let's enjoy our prey."
Marnie's breasts rose and fell as she breathed raspingly, and several young men quickly shed their pants and underwear. Neubarth managed to yell out "You demon!" at Rhadaman before another blow from a fist caused the scene to fade from his senses. His last memory of the evening was of a ring of men surrounding the tortured girl's supine body, all of them trouserless and with their organs erect, like the guns of a battle fleet zeroing in on a helpless target.
CHAPTER FIVE
As he had the day before, Neubarth awoke to an empty room. This time, however, he didn't wait for his mind to clear, but got up from the sofa and walked unsteadily to the front door. Once outside, he had to narrow his eyes to compensate for the piercing sunlight. It was very hot. He judged it to be the middle of the afternoon. Luckily, his car was sitting just in front of him, across the street. As he walked over to it, the events of the evening before flashed through his mind like the separate components of an abstract painting. He tried to stop the flow of thought, and finally forced his mind into more conventional channels. The degrading events of the past two nights must be forgotten, he decided.
Upon opening the car door, he saw a woman slouched against the opposite side of the vehicle. After he got in, he saw that it was Louise. She lay crumpled up against the passenger's door, her head thrown back upon the sill of the car window, breathing stertorously. Her skirt was rumpled up about her waist, and her legs were spread, revealing that she wore no pants. Neubarth saw her black-haired pubic area gaping open. He pulled her skirt down to over her genitals and then started the car. As he pulled away, he decided to arrange to have her automobile picked up later.
When he arrived home, he carried the still unconscious Louise into the house, then into their bedroom, and dropped her on the bed. He went back into the living room and collapsed upon the sofa. He slept for several hours.
Neubarth was dreaming of a secluded meadow, through which a sunlit stream ran swiftly. He saw himself running beside the flowing water, and he was conscious of feeling very happy, when he heard Farley's voice crying "Dad," as though from a considerable distance. He looked around for his son, but could see him nowhere. Then he opened his eyes to see Farley bending over him and looking at him concernedly.
"Dad! Where have you and Mom been?" the boy asked.
Neubarth swung his feet to the floor and sat there for a moment, trying to collect his senses before he replied. He thrust his fingers into the sockets of his eyes and rubbed the swollen orbs, then told Farley that he and Louise had been called to the bedside of a sick friend. He didn't bother to fabricate any more details, but stopped any further questioning by asking Farley if he had been all right in their absence.
"Oh, yeah," the boy answered, his tone suggesting to Neubarth that he was satisfied with his father's hastily concocted story. "Grandmother stayed here. She fixed dinner for me and everything." Farley went to his room, and Neubarth got up and went back into the bedroom. He tugged at Louise's shoulder, and she awoke with a start. Her eyes were blank, devoid of any cognizance.
"Get up, Louise," Neubarth said in his old authoritarian tone of voice. "It's about time for supper." He paused. "We're going to act as though the last couple of nights never happened. Our lives will return to normality, and these recent episodes will never be spoken of!" He proclaimed the last two sentences through clenched teeth, and then left the room without waiting for any reply from Louise. As he returned to his seat on the sofa, he heard the splatter of shower water begin.
At the evening meal they all sat in silence, though Farley did remark about the tastiness of the meatloaf. Neubarth had several helpings. He wondered about his hunger, but then realized that he had had nothing to eat for the better part of the last two days. They finished, and all retired to the living room. The TV was clicked on, and all three of them watched the flickering tube with mindless absorption. It was a normal evening at the Neubarth home, and the Professor himself felt very confident that he would be able to blot out the recent almost disastrous happenings.
The next morning, Farley went off to school as usual, but Neubarth instructed Louise to call the Dean for him and get him relieved from the day's teaching assignments. He felt a little woozy, and he attributed the faintly nauseous sensations to a delayed reaction to the party's excesses. Secretly, he knew that he was staying away from the campus because he did not want to run into either Marnie or Rhadaman until he had had time to reach irreversible decisions regarding the two. He was certain that he could muster up enough courage to put them both from his thoughts, and even from his attention. He would speak to neither of them ever again, he decided. Yes, that would definitely be best. He felt a power, a flowing through his veins once again, and his old disciplined resolve burning freshly in his brain. He stayed in bed the rest of the week, mentally cementing his resolve, while Louise tended dutifully to his needs. She spoke very rarely to him, and when she did, she refused to look directly into his eyes. He decided that she was ashamed, and indeed, he thought, she should be.
Neubarth returned to his classroom duties to begin conducting the spring final exams. The Dean gave him a mild dressing down for his extended absence, chiefly because Neubarth had far exceeded his allotted sick leave. But Neubarth received the rebuke obsequiously, and then put it from his mind. He conducted most of his final examinations as he always had, but in his American Literature class, he noticed that Marnie was absent on the day of the test. He felt a certain warmth for her still, though he would not admit this to himself. Instead of failing her for the course, he noted "incomplete" in his gradebook. This would at least give her a chance to make up the work at a later date, he rationalized, thinking himself to be a generous soul. Neubarth told the Dean that, as usual, he would be available for summer school teaching, and then he and his family left for the mountains for a little vacation before the summer session began.
Once they had established themselves in the lake cabin owned by a friend, Neubarth settled down to enjoy a week's peace and rest. Farley fished daily from the long pier that extended into the deep blue lake water, and Louise contented herself with basking in the sun beside the lapping water. Neubarth went swimming once or twice, but for the most part he spent his days comfortably seated in an old redwood chair, feeling the warm sunshine fall soothingly upon his uptilted face.
They left the lake house at the end of the week, all of them feeling rested by the brief sojourn away from the active atmosphere of the town. Neubarth would have liked to stay longer, but duty called. He would start teaching the next Monday. And Farley had to get started at his summer job of clerking in a local ice cream store. Besides, Victor Jr. was to be home very soon, and all of the family was anxious to see him again after his nine months at college.
As they drove into the driveway at home, they saw Junior's low-slung sports car parked in the carport; He was home early. Neubarth, Louise, and Farley all ran to see him.
"Hi! Mom, Dad, and how are you doing, kid!" Victor Jr. said with a wide grin as they entered and found him sitting on the sofa, drinking a beer.
Looking upon his eldest son, Neubarth was conscious of a great deal of paternal pride. The boy had gained weight while he was away. He looked older, and somehow, more masculine than he had before he had gone away. He affected a beard now, and though Neubarth usually had expressed disapproval of such adornment, he had to admit that the well-groomed Vandyke added to Junior's general appearance.
At dinner that evening, all of the family laughed and joked with complete abandon. Louise was her old, bubbly self, and Farley was obvious in the adoration he felt for his older brother. Neubarth was happy. The future looked bright and hopeful.
He began teaching the first of the week. He taught two classes � History of the English Language and Contemporary Literature. He felt vaguely disappointed that Marnie had enrolled in neither of his classes. He realized that even thinking about the girl was in contradiction to his former vow never to even consider her or Rhadaman again. But the thought of Marnie was there, and he could only hope that his concern for her would die in time.
The summer days went by slowly and pleasantly. One evening, Junior asked Neubarth to pick him up at a friend's apartment, situated near the creek that wound through the outskirts of town. Neubarth read until the time that he was to go out for Junior. As he walked out to his car, he made amental note to encourage the boy to fix his car, and relieve him of these pickup duties. He drove out of town slowly, thinking that he should also try to persuade his son to obtain some sort of worthwhile summer pursuit. A job or something would be a lot better than just drinking beer all the time with his friends, and staying out till all hours. Neubarth realized that he didn't even know who these friends were.
He pulled up in front of a shaded little cottage set back from the road. The place looked like the one that Junior had described to him. He walked up to the door and knocked loudly. A female voice yelled out, "Come in!" and Neubarth entered to see a girl and a young man stretched out side by side on the couch. The girl had apparently been expecting someone else, for after seeing Neubarth in the doorway she pulled down at her skirt, which had been gathered up about the tops of her thighs, and then got up and greeted him a little shamefacedly while hurriedly buttoning the front of her dress. The young man stayed in his reclining position and glowered at the newcomer. The girl had long blonde hair and a full, ripening body. Neubarth thought she looked familiar.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, miss," Neubarth said. "I'm here to pick up Victor Neubarth. Is he here?"
The girl looked at Neubarth as though she recognized him. Her uneasy manner disappeared, and she smiled broadly up at him as she told him that Victor was swimming with some other people just down the road.
"You can't miss it, Professor," she said with a grin, then turned and lay back down on the couch beside the young man. "It's only about a hundred yards away." Her voice was choked off at the end of the sentence as the young man rolled her on to her back and pressed his mouth against hers.
As he opened the door to go out, Neubarth glanced back to see the young man's hand sliding up the blonde girl's leg, rumpling her skirt as it moved, to finally expose her tanned thigh and the ruffle at her panties, just as he closed the door behind him.
Neubarth stepped out onto the road, and began to walk along towards the sounds of shouting he heard a short distance away. It seemed to him that the young couple should have showed more respect when he was in their presence. By embracing as he was leaving, they had shown themselves to be most rude, he decided. Without any warning the identity of the blonde girl came to him. He realized with a shock that she had been at the party at Beatrice Holman's that night. The athletic girl who had walked on her hands, and then had had her privates used as a drinking trough by her companion. Yes, that was she, he thought. Then she had given him that look of recognition because she remembered him, and his shameful acts, from the party. Neubarth's mind was in a disturbed and unsettled state as he saw on his left a widening of the creek. The whiteness of splashed water glowed in the night, brought about by the many people who were laughing and screaming with delight as they cast themselves into the darkness of the swimming hole.
Neubarth stepped down carefully onto the wet mud of the creek bank. He looked out over the surface of the water and tried to pick out Junior from among the people who frolicked there. He was surprised to see that some of the revelers were without bathing suits. The nude bodies of young men and girls glittered in the moonlight. He became vaguely excited, and even more so when a young couple clambered up the side of the bank to come to a halt before him. They acted as though he weren't there, and Neubarth's eyes caught the darkness at the girl's pubic area, which contrasted with the lightness of her shimmering wet skin. Water dripped from the tips of her out-thrust breasts, and ran in flat rivulets down over the rounded contours of her body. The young man laughed and held her closely to him. His flaccid penis pressed against the low mound of her belly. They both broke into loud laughter as the boy spoke into the girl's ear, and then they dove into the churning pool, one after the other. Neubarth felt dizzy. He sat down on the bank and let his face fall into his hands. Is there no escape from this sensuality? he wondered.
There was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Junior smiling down at him.
"This is kinda wild, isn't it, Dad?" the boy said. "You been watching this long?"
"No!" Neubarth said as he got to his feet. "Now let's go home."
"Hey wait a minute, Dad. There's someone here I'd like you to meet." Junior pulled someone out of the shadows to stand directly before his father. The girl looked up at Neubarth as he looked down at her. Their preparatory smiles faded as they recognized each other. "I'd like you to meet Marnie Croft, Dad. We just met this evening, and we kinda hit it off." The grinning youth put his arm around the suddenly sober-faced girl.
Neubarth stammered out a "Hello," and Marnie muttered something in reply. She wore only panties and her distinctively huge bra, and Junior had on only his undershorts. Neubarth saw the girl's breathing accelerate and cause the massive risings of her breasts to rise and fall frantically beneath the bra.
"Let's go, Junior," Neubarth said as he turned and shakily began the climb out onto the road. But someone stood directly in his path. Professor Neubarth ran into him, apologized, and had started to step around him when he felt an iron clutch on his coat sleeve.
"Come on, Professor, surely you don't want to leave already, not when the fun's just beginning," the shadowy figure said. And Neubarth knew that voice. He looked up fearfully to gaze into the dark caverns of Ted Rhadaman's eyes.
"Get away from me, Rhadaman!" Neubarth yelled as he tried to shoulder his way past the youth. Rhadaman retained his grip however, and flung Neubarth back down the sloping bank. He fell onto the seat of his pants, and Junior came running up, full of concern.
"Did you hurt yourself, Dad?" the boy asked in a sympathetic tone. "Did you trip, or what?"
Neubarth was about to tell his son that Rhadaman had attacked him, and then watch the boy settle his account with that evil specter from the recent past. But he remembered Rhadaman's power over him, and his almost supernatural powers of persuasion. He quickly decided that it certainly would not be the act of a loving father to attempt to persuade his son to engage in combat in his stead. Especially with Rhadaman, whose strange and corruptive influence even he did not understand. He got to his feet slowly, and brushed as much of the mud as he could from his clothing.
"Yes, I tripped, Junior. I'm all right."
Rhadaman had come down the side of the bank, and now stood between Junior and Marnie. Flames leaped in his eyes, even in the nearly complete darkness, and looking into them, Neubarth realized that there was no fire nearby for them to reflect.
"Well, let's all go swimming," Rhadaman said, and then reached out and unclasped the hooks at the back of Marnie's bra. "But without these phony hindrances, eh?"
The girl recoiled from his touch and tried to hold the unfastened garment against her breasts. But Junior, in a burst of enthusiasm for Rhadaman's suggestion, climbed rapidly out of his shorts and then asked Marnie to follow suit. She was embarrassed, but rather than appear prudish, she reluctantly doffed the bra and then pulled down her panties. Neubarth couldn't keep his eyes from her emerging flesh. Her breasts glowed like dim beacons in the darkness, and the skin of her thighs and belly shone with what looked like an interior light. Marnie looked up to see Neubarth eyeing her hungrily. She gave him a swift smile, and then took Junior's arm and they both turned and walked to the water's edge. Their buttocks winked like fluorescent pillows in the night. They both dove in with shouts of merriment, and joined the milling youngsters already swimming about.
"Take off your clothes, Professor," said Rhadaman from where he stood at Neubarth's side. "Let's cool off a bit, huh?"
Neubarth didn't look at him. He was too engrossed in Marnie's sleek body, which lay spread-eagled upon the surface of the creek as she floated serenely on her back. Her breasts were splayed to either side, and the darker nipples were visible from where Neubarth stood. Her body undulated with the current of the stream, and he saw her dark pubic patch, like an inkblot against her milk-white thighs, bounce up teasingly as the water beneath her moved past in its flow. Neubarth's mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. With a gasp of excitement he pulled his clothes off, and completely nude, stumbled down to the edge of the creek. As he dove, he heard Rhadaman's high, bestial laughter ring out loudly.
Neubarth struck the water, and the shock of the cold stream slammed against his senses like a hammer. He stayed under the surface for a moment, feeling the stinging sensation in his belly and legs that told him that he had bellyflopped. He stroked out in what he thought was Marnie's direction, keeping underwater. Finally, when he was out of breath, he surfaced to see, about a foot in front of his face, a pair of jutting breasts, nipples erect from the cold. The girl's face above them grinned at him. Neubarth had never seen her before, but suddenly he forgot about Marnie, and his general lust took over as he grabbed the girl's hard teat in his mouth and encircled her with his arms. She laughed joyously, and they both sank below the surface of the pond.
Presently she fought her way free and stroked to the top. When Neubarth appeared beside her, she gave him an intent look.
"Want some action, daddy?" she said. "Then follow me." She stroked towards the far edge of the swimming hole, and upon reaching shallow water, climbed out onto the gravel. Neubarth churned the water furiously in pursuit, and came out upon the gravel just as she was climbing up the bank. He stumbled after her, and began to climb the steep slope just behind her waving buttocks. He saw the muscles in her long, driving legs ripple with the exertion of the climb, and from where he was, he could see the wet hairs of her pubic beard sticking out below and behind her pulsating buttocks. He moved faster, and, getting up right behind her, stuck his hand through her spread thighs and cupped the damply warm mound of her sex.
"Heeheeheehee!" she exploded, and whirled around to place her bare foot against his chest and shove him down. He slid partly down the slope, but immediately clambered upright again and began to climb even faster. The girl, meanwhile, had reached the top, and Neubarth looked up to see her standing in silhouette against the dark trees. Her feet were wide apart and her hands were on her hips. With the grove as backdrop, and with her being completely nude, she made Neubarth think of a member of some extinct cult of ancient warrior-women.
"Well, come on up, you lewd old bastard!" she shouted down to him.
Neubarth made the mud fly in his haste to gain the summit. Reaching it, he saw that she was gone. He looked around him and then saw the white flash of her flesh among the trees of a little thicket to his left. He hurried after her, though he had to stop occasionally to pick thorns out of his bare feet. He came upon her as she stood against a tree, looking towards him expectantly. Neubarth caught his breath at the loveliness of the girl's nakedness. The darkness of her two nipples and the shadow of dripping hair at her groin formed a perfect triangle of sexual delights. He ran to her, his penis already rising into an erect staff. She waited until he was almost upon her and, giggling gleefully, darted behind the tree and dodged away through the undergrowth. He set out in pursuit, following the ethereal whiteness of her quivering rear through the trees.
She hid behind tree trunks and boulders, but he always found her, and then she ran off again, continuing to laugh like a delighted child. After a little while, Neubarth's breath grew dangerously short, but luckily for him, she stumbled over a root, and he put all his remaining strength into the chase, and threw himself upon her back. She shrieked with gaiety and squirmed beneath him, but he held fast and, panting like a pack mule, turned her over and let his full weight rest upon her. He fastened his mouth to hers and tasted the sweetness of stream water as their tongues swished around inside each other. Groans of excitement bubbled up out of her opened lips and she flung her arms around him and held him tightly. Her legs spread open slowly. Neubarth dropped his head and sucked at her rigid nipple, then moved to the other, all the while working the heavy flesh of her breasts with his hands. She began to snort out, "Put it in me! Put it in me!" while lifting her hips to meet his. Neubarth scooted downward, letting his tongue run down between her breasts and over the slight elevation of her belly. He stuck his tongue into her navel and she heaved in bodily reply. He gathered the damp hairs of her crotch between his teeth and plucked at them, then slid his face lower and, clutching each of her thighs, lifted her lower body like an oversize chalice, and drank from the hot grotto between her legs. As he stuck his tongue into the lubricated channel of her sex, he heard her groans of passion as though from a distance. He decided it was time.
Neubarth pulled his face away from the girl's spread and dripping vagina, and planted his mouth upon hers again, while situating his stiff, pulsing organ above the opening of her sex and thrusting downward. He penetrated with great ease and began to pump, while she returned the movements frantically. He felt her nails digging into his back, and heard her yell out obscenities as he worked on her.
"Pump, pump, pump, you son of a bitch! Eeeeeeeee! More, more!" she shouted in an almost incoherent voice. Her body was bouncing off the ground now, and her yells changed from obscenities to what sounded like prayerful screams in another language. He began to be concerned about whether or not the others would hear her and come up into the thicket to investigate. He moaned loudly and climaxed with a chain of convulsive shudders. The girl felt the hot bolts of his ejaculation shoot deep into her vitals, and she bounced even more frenetically, shouting, "Oh there it is! Ooooooo! Keep going! Keep going!"
Neubarth did his best to satisfy her yelled request, but soon his strength waned, and he was forced to stop his movement. She pumped on, nevertheless, continuing to score his shoulders and back with her fingernails, gibbering like a madwoman all the while. After a few minutes of being buffeted about by her gyrating body, Neubarth reached back and broke her grasp on his flesh, then wriggled free. He stood up and began to walk away. He had gone only a few paces when he heard a series of grunts just behind him that made him think of a pack of rabid wild pigs. He spun on his heel to see the girl charging at him, her hair wild and disheveled and her eyes like those of a creature from hell. He was paralyzed by her maniacal expression, and just before she struck him, he saw her two breasts swinging madly with the ferocity of her rush. The jerking nipples looked like eyes in the face of one gone berserk. She hit him at the knees and they both went down in the leaves.
The girl landed expertly on top of him, and though he struggled to gain his feet, she used her weight to keep him pinioned to the ground. In one movement of considerable quickness she pushed her face against his genitals and grasped his semilimp penis between her white teeth. She began to move her mouth up and down the organ's shank, biting down on it enough to cause pain when he struggled. To prevent being emasculated, Neubarth finally resigned himself to the girl's frantic ministrations. The intensity of her lips' suction eventually reawakened his tired member, and he felt himself becoming stiffly erect again. He heard her snorting like a blubbering sea beast. Finally, he felt the rising pressure of impending orgasm, and as the milky fluid gushed out of him and into her ready mouth, he clutched at her shoulders in ecstasy and shouted in a loud voice.
After this second sexual climax, Neubarth's bodily tension collapsed utterly. He went as limp as an emptied tube, oblivious to the girl's continued attempts to arouse him. Finally, she ceased her oral activity and sat up. Neubarth looked up at her and saw her eyes upon him. Her breasts stood out defiantly, and he watched them rise and fall with her labored breathing.
"How long before you'll be ready to go again, man?" She asked in a threateningly low voice.
He gazed back into her fiery eyes, not believing that she could be serious. She got up and stood spread-eagled above him, then began to stroke the dark pelt between her legs, while continuing to stare down at him.
"Don't you want some more of this?" she asked. "Surely you're not through already. I'm certainly not." She inserted three of her fingers into the wet crevice, and moved them rapidly about, while fondling one of her rigid nipples with the other hand.
"Haven't you had enough?" Neubarth gasped out.
"I've never had enough, man," she said between moans of excitement.
She flopped back onto the ground and began to hump violently, her fingers rotating within the cavern of her sex like a butter churn. She began to shout the shrill foreign-sounding phmses again. Neubarth watched her wildly jerking form, and he thought of her as some sex-obsessed Valkyrie, cast down from Valhalla for an offense against the gods.
After what seemed like a long time, her movements subsided, and her statuesque body lay relatively still, though she continued to pant loudly.
Neubarth still lay quietly, trying to gather his strength so that he could escape from this human dynamo. He heard whispering back in the trees to his left. He sat up and looked in the direction of the sound to see a brief glimmer of whiteness in the dark. It must be a nude body, he thought. Some of the swimmers investigating the screams of passion. The whispering came nearer, to finally halt about fifteen feet away. He detected the voice of a young man, and then that of a girl.
"Oh Marnie, Marnie, I want you so!" whispered the young man. Neubarth recognized the voice. It was Junior's. He got to his feet carefully, and stepped over behind a tree, then looked around it to see Marnie Croft's delicious nakedness shining palely in the night. She lay upon the leaves, and Junior knelt just above her. Neubarth could detect the boy's erection.
"I love you, Marnie," Junior said, and Marnie mumbled some reply that Neubarth didn't catch. He felt a burning jealousy at first, but this was soon supplanted by the strong sense of shame he felt at being a secret observer of his son's lovemaking. He stepped back cautiously, and prepared to steal away from the disturbing scene. But suddenly he heard a low grunt just behind him. Turning his head, he saw his recent sex partner watching the couple behind the tree. She groaned aloud, and Junior and Marnie both looked in their direction. Without warning, Neubarth saw the girl lunge out from the cover of the tree's shadow and sprawl upon Junior's back.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed, while trying to push the raving creature from him. Neubarth didn't know what to do. He wanted to try to help his son fight off the shrieking girl, but he was reluctant to reveal himself as having just been with her, which would be anyone's logical conclusion. He saw Marnie get up and rush into the fray. The young nymphomaniac straight-armed her, and, as she fell back onto the ground, all of the meaty projections of her body vibrated violently. Despite the turmoil in his brain, Neubarth couldn't help feeling vague stirrings of desire as he looked down on Marnie's prostrate nudity.
The girl, meanwhile, was wrestling with Junior on about equal terms. Finally, she managed to push him onto his back, trying to impale herself upon the upthrust lance of his sex. Her dark-haired pubic bush enclosed Junior's penis for a moment, and she began to bounce up and down and yell in ecstasy again. Junior suddenly lashed out and slapped his tormentor powerfully. The girl fell off onto the carpet of leaves, and Junior wasted no more time, but got up, grasped Marnie by the arm, and they both ran off through the trees.
Neubarth waited a few minutes, then slowly walked after them. As he directed himself towards the pond, he glanced back and saw the luminous whiteness of the girl's flesh in contrast to the darker leaves beneath her. Her moans sounded like the outcries of a wounded animal, and he saw the whiteness of her body heave in the darkness, as she continued masturbating beneath the trees. My God, thought Neubarth.
He reached the high bank overlooking the swimming hole, to see that most of the revelers had left. He saw Junior and Marnie, fully clothed now, just disappearing over the bank on the opposite side of the stream. Now where in the hell are they going, he asked himself while he stepped gingerly down the incline and into the water. It was very cold, but he braced himself and stroked slowly across the wide stream. Upon reaching the other side, he dried himself perfunctorily with his trousers and then clambered into the damp clothing. When he climbed out onto the road, he looked up and down it, hoping to catch sight of his son or Marnie. They were nowhere to be seen, so he walked back up the dark road towards the cottage in front of which he had parked.
He reached the small house after walking what seemed to him a longer distance than before. He went to his car, and was just preparing to get in, when he heard the plaintive strains of folk music issuing forth from the tiny dwelling. He looked towards it, saw that all the windows were lighted, and then decided that Junior and Marnie might well be inside. It was with a sense of foreboding that he walked up to the front door and knocked. The door was instantly opened by an unfamiliar young man, who asked him in and then escorted him to a chair against the far wall. Neubarth took the seat, then looked around him. Junior and Marnie were indeed there, in the midst of about four other couples. All of them were listening very intently to the bittersweet vocal arrangement that sounded forth from the stereo speakers, though Junior did look up once and smile at him.
Neubarth saw the blonde hostess sitting on the floor with the young man he had seen her with previously. The other young people he didn't know, but they all seemed to be completely engrossed in the music, and all were dressed comfortably and conservatively. Neubarth was pleasantly surprised. This, he thought, is the way young people should be at a gathering. The blonde girl turned from her position on the floor, smiled up at Neubarth, and extended her hand, which held a glass of white wine. He accepted it with a nod of appreciation. At the bottom of the glass were two strawberries. How delightful, he thought, and drank from the glass. The wine was Chenin Blanc, he surmised. Most tasty.
He looked over to Marnie. She and Junior sat on the sofa, and her head rested on his shoulder. Their faces were both reddened from their recent swim in the icy stream water, and sitting there in such a cozy position, Neubarth thought that they looked like two very innocent children. He did feel a twinge of jealousy, but stifled it quickly. Unwillingly, his eyes dropped to Marnie's breasts. Apparently she had dried herself haphazardly, for the front of her dress was noticeably dampened. He thought of her ripe, bursting flesh as he had seen it in all of its magnificent nakedness back in the grove, and despite himself, felt sexual desire growing in him. Oh God, he thought, I must expunge these idiotic longings.
He decided that Junior and he should go home. That devilish Rhadaman might choose to put in an appearance at any moment, and Neubarth was sure that he didn't want to be there if and when the young man arrived. He tried to catch Junior's eye, but he was sitting with his head back and his eyes closed, and Marnie's active lips were nibbling at his ear.
He noticed that some of the other couples were also indulging in little caressing movements with each other, and the blonde girl on the floor was quite frankly kissing her companion. She lay full-length upon the carpet, and while her young man worked his opened mouth against hers, he slid his hand down upon her exposed thigh and shoved her dress up as he rhythmically stroked the lithe, browned limb. Neubarth unthinkingly watched the couple's close embrace, and felt his desire grow as the white crotch of the blonde girl's panties came into view. Neubarth stared at the young man's hand touching the delicate span of silk that covered the girl's bulging pudendum, like a rabbit stares into the eyes of a coiled rattlesnake. The young man increased the pressure of his stroking motions, and soon Neubarth saw the girl making little movements with her hips that propelled her upward into the relentless hand upon her sex.
The musical piece that they had all been listening to ended, and another record fell onto the turntable, though no one seemed to notice. A girl went to the door, opened it, then left it that way. Neubarth, with his eyes still on the girl and her companion, who were both moving with more frenzy now, heard in some area of his semiconsciousness the night birds trilling in the trees outside, and smelled the moisture-laden air of a summer night.
He drank from his wine glass, and the fruity white wine seemed to be the perfect complement to what was already, in his mind, an idyllic evening. Of course, he realized, that episode back in the thicket with that maniacal girl was hardly idyllic, but then, he rationalized, that was only vaguely remembered even now, and would be completely forgotten soon. If only these young people would begin acting in a more conventional manner, he thought, though he continued to keep his attention riveted on the blonde girl, whose body was humping upwards with increasing velocity against her companion's probing fingers. Neubarth tore his eyes away long enough to see that the rest of the assembled party were conducting themselves in a like manner. He saw that Junior had buried his face in the hollow of Marnie's throat, and worked the meaty projection of one of her breasts with his hand. As Neubarth watched this little drama, Marnie raised her head and directed a look of longing towards him. Neubarth looked back into her eyes, and read the unspoken question there. She was silently asking him if he felt no jealousy at seeing his son make advances to her.
It was too much for Neubarth. He immediately rose from his chair and made as if to go to the door and leave. But it was too late. The blonde girl shrugged off her lover for a moment, rose and walked to the door, then closed it. She turned and faced the people who were present.
"I have a few nosy neighbors," she said, smiling. "Perhaps it would be better if we assured ourselves of a little privacy."
The guests lifted their heads from their separate pursuits long enough to hear her and nod their agreement.
"And you, Professor," the blonde continued, "I hope we can provide you with enough diversions to keep you entertained."
"But ... but, I have to go home now," Neubarth stammered. "I've got classes to teach in the morning."
"Nonsense, Professor," the blonde said to him, her luminous gray eyes seeming to mirror his acknowledged weakness. "We all know what an accomplished master of sexual excess you are."
Neubarth felt embarrassed, and he caught Junior looking at him with a puzzled expression on his face. My God, he thought, I mustn't let this girl expose me to my son. I'll play along for a while. He smiled back at the blonde girl, who told him that her name was Sigrid, and then he went back to his seat.
Sigrid took her male companion by the hand, and after helping him rise to his feet, embraced him passionately, and whispered something into his ear. He nodded acceptance of whatever proposal she had made, and grinned with boyish glee. Sigrid then left the room, and the assembled and comfortably seated guests returned to their amatory pursuits, while Neubarth just sat and listened to the music.
After a few minutes the blonde stepped back into the living room. She was now attired only in black bra and panties, a black garter belt, and black mesh stockings. Neubarth was amazed at her brazen attitude, though his shock did not prevent him from devouring the blonde's body with his eyes. Her skin, except for her tanned legs, looked startlingly white against the black undergarments, and her full breasts were constricted to overflowing by the tight bra, which caused the foothills of the milky mounds to spread out upon her upper chest. She also wore a strangely incongruous necklace of large plastic beads. Now what in the hell, Neubarth thought.
"We're going to conduct a truly informative seminar," Sigrid announced in response to the inquiring looks from the audience. "And the presence of Professor Neubarth will lend it that certain touch of propriety. We'll term it Coital Positions I-A, and Jack here ... " she pointed to the grinning young man who had been with her previously, " ... and I will serve as initial instructors. But we do hope that others of you will be inspired to lend your services to the noble cause of higher education as the evening progresses."
A few of the people present laughed out loud at the novelty of her suggestion, and others mumbled disapprovingly of the proposal that they copulate publicly after Jack and Sigrid finished. Junior and Marnie didn't even appear to notice Sigrid's speech, but continued to nuzzle each other lovingly, and Junior persisted in his incessant massage of Marnie's nearest breast.
Neubarth looked back towards Sigrid to see that her prospective sex partner had already stripped off his clothes, and stood there with his large penis sticking out at a right angle to his body. Sigrid was pulling off her net stockings and unclasping her bra. Except for Junior and Marnie, the guests looked up appreciatively as her large breasts were revealed. Neubarth caught his breath; the sight of this nude flesh was very exciting to him. Her nipples, which were bright red, like ripe berries, were situated inwards from the center of her snowy mammary hillocks, giving them the appearance of crossed eyes. She stepped out of her panties, then quickly instructed Jack to take a seat in a straight chair that she had previously placed in the center of the room. Jack did so, and his penis rose even more abruptly as he stamped his feet in excited anticipation. Sigrid's light brown bush picked up golden highlights from the light of the lamp, and, as she spread her legs and sat down in Jack's lap, Neubarth leaned forward and watched intently, not wanting to miss any of the spectacle. She scooted forward and situated her yawning vaginal mouth against the palpitating shaft of Jack's sex. He directed the swollen head of the organ into her damp, hair-lined sanctuary, and then wrapped his arms around her, and she did the same. They began to rock back and forth upon the pivot of his stiff penis, and Jack clutched the berrylike nipple of her left breast in his mouth and sucked with great slurping noises. As the tempo of their mutual gusto increased, the lightly constructed chair began to creak and lift off its legs. From his vantage point, Neubarth could see Jack's bright red staff plunging up to the hilt into Sigrid's well-lubricated vagina. He thought that they looked like two hopelessly entangled beings trying desperately to extricate themselves from bondage. Their movements grew in intensity, and soon Jack was moving his mouth from one of Sigrid's nipples to the other with the speed of a typewriter carriage. Their shouts of ecstasy drowned out the music from the stereo, and finally the chair, having endured all the strain that it could, collapsed under their combined weight just as Jack's yells indicated that he had reached climax. They sprawled amid the wreckage of the broken chair, and lay there for a few minutes, both of them breathing very heavily.
Finally, Sigrid struggled to her feet, and stood there with her curiously nippled breasts rising and falling rapidly. Neubarth saw the remnants of Jack's sperm trickling partway down one thigh, and that area of her light brown pubic hair which was directly over her vaginal opening was gummed to the rosy skin.
She grinned broadly and said, "Well, I guess we're going to have to rest for a few minutes. I'm sure that Jack here ... " she pointed down at the young man, who was still lying on his stomach. " ... will need a little while to recuperate. In the meantime, anyone who feels like carrying on with our unique and edifying program may feel free to step into the limelight." After saying this she let herself back down onto the floor and stretched out full-length.
The enthralled audience stared at her and at Jack's still supine body, murmuring among themselves. Neubarth felt his penis throbbing powerfully. He looked over towards Junior and Marnie, and saw that while they had roused themselves from their petting long enough to watch Jack and Sigrid at their singular labor, they now had returned to their private pursuits. Apparently excited by what they had just viewed, Junior now had the front of Marnie's dress unbuttoned, and was sliding his hand under the confining cloth of her bra to tweak her nipples with his fingers. Her dress was up to the lower edge of her panties, and because he knew the girl well, Neubarth could tell from the flushed condition of her face that she was excited. Neubarth was unsure as to how much more of this titillation he could take before he reached orgasm in his pants!
Suddenly a tall, thin girl stood upright, and walked to the center of the room. The young man she had come with called, "Monica! Come on back here!" But the girl stayed where she was, then instructed her young man to come out and lay down on the floor, telling her audience that she had another sexual innovation to exhibit. The boy reluctantly arose, walked up, and lay down on the floor.
"Now come on, Monica," he said imploringly. "Why make a spectacle of ourselves."
The girl ignored him, then went to the front door and left. The boy sighed and stayed as he was. Neubarth felt that something must be amiss. Did the girl go home, or what? After about fifteen minutes had passed, she slammed back through the front door, perspiring heavily. It was obvious that she had been running, for great beads of perspiration were streaming down her face and darkening the flimsy shift that she wore.
She fumbled at the zipper on the front of the light shift, drew it down, stepped out of the garment, and revealed a completely nude body that was svelte enough to be that of a fashion model. Neubarth saw the little streams of perspiration glistening upon her small, pert breasts, and running down over her flat belly to lose themselves in her luxuriant pubic pelt. Suddenly she leaped into the air, spread-eagled herself ballerina-fashion, and landed genitals first on the boy's upturned face. Apparently her weight was negligible, for the young man withstood the sudden shock of her falling body without any apparent injury. As though this was a thing they had done together many times, the boy began to rummage around in the sweaty confines of the girl's sex, and the tendons on his neck stood out as he arched upward to allow his tongue fullest play. Monica's face soon grew tight with the building pressure of sexual tension, and her young man tried to vary his ministrations as much as he was able. His face turned this way and that, as though it were a screw being wound into the girl's wet vagina, and Neubarth could hear muted gurgling noises come up through the dense pubic growth that engulfed his face. After a little while, Monica began to jerk rhythmically, and her small but marvelously firm breasts jiggled as all of her body flinched repeatedly and spasmatically. Her flesh continued to shake, gaining in tempo until at last a piercing scream broke from her lips and she fell off his face and onto the carpet.
Her partner in lust sat up and looked at her. His face shone with wetness, and the hair at his temples was plastered down by the combination of sexual lubricant and sweat that still poured from Monica's body. His expression was one of hate, and as he continued to glare down at the girl he slowly got to his feet and unbelted his trousers.
"Now, pretty Monica," he said through lips that were tight with controlled rage. "I think I'll have my turn. I think I'll utilize you, as you have so casually used me."
Neubarth and the watching couples stared at the young man, and Monica slowly lifted herself on her hands and swiveled her head to stare at him, too.
"Whatever can you mean, Larry? Are you angry? We've done this many times. You've never complained before."
"Ah, but this, baby, we've never done before!" The boy stepped out of his pants and shorts, and bent quickly and gripped the girl around the waist. With his other hand he pushed her head down against the floor, and then lifted her lower body so that she was supported on her knees and her slender buttocks tilted upward.
"What are you doing, Larry?" Monica asked in a loud, rather frightened voice.
"This, baby, this!" he yelled and then crouched and tried to introduce his rigid penis to the girl's anus. She screamed and jerked, but he held her fast, while driving his penis with increasing force against the narrow aperture between the girl's shaking white buttocks. Because he was using no lubricant, entry was not so easily gained. He compensated for this dearth of vaseline by using all the muscles of his body in the attempt to wedge his stiff rod into the narrow cavity. Monica shrieked in increasing volume, until finally Sigrid went to the stereo and turned up the sound to drown her out.
Neubarth and the other guests watched with bated breath as the young man's muscles stood out in the intensity of his strain. After several minutes of strenuous pushing, the girl's anal depression was trespassed by Larry's vengeful penis. She gurgled hysterically, beat her head and hands against the floor, and yelled, "Ahahahahahahaah!" over and over again. He kept up his pumping, though now it was obvious to all that he was feeling pain, too. But his rage could not be thwarted, and he continued his rhythmical motions until he ejaculated in a gushing white torrent, and then fell onto his side, his rapidly wilting penis still imbedded in Monica's stretched anus. They lay there like two hung-up dogs, while the blood oozed out around his limp organ and dripped onto the carpet.
Sigrid stepped around them and went to the kitchen, where she procured another bottle of white wine, and then brought it back into the living room. She filled the glasses of all the guests, and as she bent over Neubarth's empty glass, he had to forcibly restrain himself to keep from reaching out and grabbing her hanging breast, which dangled tantalizingly near. He had an almost overpowering desire to secure the berry-redness of her nipple in his mouth, and feel it turn into an erect little peak as he sucked.
Presently, Monica arose from the floor, and Neubarth could see mixed blood and semen still adorning the furrow between her saucy buttocks. She scooped up her shift, and fled, sobbing, through the front door. A few moments after she left, Larry got up and climbed into his clothes, and slowly walked out after her. Neubarth was surprised to see Junior and Marnie also arise. Marnie rebuttoned the front of her dress and patted the skirt down into place, and then, arm in arm, they went out into the night. Neubarth surmised that they were going to find a place with more privacy, probably Marnie's apartment. If he had not felt so giddy with lust, he would have followed them, and out of jealousy, convinced Junior to come home with him. But as it was, their absence provided him with an opportunity to perhaps give vent to his own desires. And it could come none too soon. His testicles felt like red-hot ball bearings, and his penis throbbed incessantly. He looked hopefully towards Sigrid, praying that she could accommodate him.
"Want some action, Professor?" said the blonde girl. "Want to become part of our curriculum?" She grinned at him, her gray eyes flashing.
"Sure you do," she said, answering her own question. She walked to the center of the room and stood there, legs widely apart. She was clad only in the curious bead necklace and the garter belt, whose black straps swished against her tanned and fully muscled thighs.
"I noticed you looking at these, Prof." She dangled her breasts in her hands, kneading the meat, rubbing the rosy nipples into erection. "And this." She dropped one hand down to her curly, triangular bush and ran a finger up the pink furrow of her sex, then spread the lips and tweaked the little button of her clitoris.
"Ooooh, that feels good. Think you can give me a workout, Prof? I know I can give you one." She smiled enticingly, and her large white teeth glimmered in the light. "Strip for action, man!"
If Neubarth had had any inhibitions about engaging in a public sex act, they vanished completely as he gazed on Sigrid's pale, bulging body. He jumped up, wrestled his trousers and shorts off, then divested himself of his shirt and coat. He walked towards Sigrid, painfully conscious of his protruding stomach, and stood hesitantly before her. He tried to suck the paunch in.
Sigrid lay down on her back, and kicked her long sinuous legs in the air. Neubarth looked down on the golden-haired cleft between her agitated thighs, and could control himself no longer. He fell between her legs, and tried to poke his pulsating penis into the wet fissure. But he was too eager, and the girl had to come to his assistance. She reached down and grasped the swollen member in her fastidiously manicured hand, and aimed it into the gaping cubbyhole just above her anus. Neubarth began to pump hastily, but the blonde said between grunts, "Now, take it easy, Prof. This isn't going to be just another lay for you, so you'll have to hold off coming for as long as you can." He slowed down in obedience to her instruction, and then felt her hand against the crack of his buttocks. She pressed something small and spherical into his anus, and he looked down at her in surprise.
"It's the beads, man," she said into his ear. "We're going to do the bead bit."
Neubarth had no idea as to what she was referring, but he dimly decided that anything she had in mind was fine with him, just as long as the lusciously rounded body could remain beneath him. He moved his loins cautiously, fearful of reaching climax too soon, and as he did so, Sigrid pushed bead after bead of the plastic necklace into the sensitive hole between his buttock cheeks. He tried desperately to think of other things, so that he could forestall orgasm, but he was increasingly conscious of Sigrid's hair-covered mound humping up to collide with his own pubic patch, and of the rose-nippled breasts crushed against his chest. He felt his penis throb warningly, and the girl felt it, too, for just as the explosive turmoil of orgasm swept over his senses, she yanked the string of beads out of his anus. Neubarth thought that he would never stop shuddering and discharging into Sigrid's receptive vagina. The ejaculative sensations went on and on. It was as though all the juices of his body were erupting from the end of his organ.
The blonde girl crawled out from under him, leaving him exhausted and gasping for breath on the carpet.
"A hell of a thing, eh, Prof?" Neubarth heard the girl say from somewhere up above him. "Yes, I think that will about finish you for the night."
Neubarth lay there for about twenty minutes before he attempted to rise. Then he lifted himself onto his hands and knees, and painfully got to his feet. He found his clothes and put them on. He had never felt so tired before, and feeling his heart pounding like a triphammer was hardly pleasant. He looked around him, to see that the other members of the gathering had relapsed into their former postures. Sigrid, still naked except for the garter belt, was seated upon Jack's lap, and his hands were running freely over the fleshy contours of her body. She nibbled at his throat, making audible smacking noises with her lips. Off in a dimly lit corner he saw a pair copulating. They humped and groaned like a single mechanical toy, in perfect synchronization.
Neubarth walked to the door and was about to open it and go out, when it was forcefully shoved back into his face by someone who pushed from the other side. He staggered back against the wall and saw the wild young girl that he had been with in the thicket near the swimming hole leap into the room. Her legs were streaked with dried mud, and leaves and twigs were gummed to her naked buttocks and back. She screamed something that was unintelligible, then grabbed the nearest young man and wrestled him to the floor. The people in the room stared bug-eyes at her. Then Sigrid got up and walked over to stand above her and the struggling young man. He cursed and tried to get his hands free enough to punch her, but her sexual frenzy lent her demoniac strength, and she was able to pin him against the carpet while she rubbed her dirty body against him.
"You fellas can help this lady out, can't you?" Sigrid asked. "I think she's lonely," she grinned.
The men who were present got to their feet and came forward. One of them was already unbelting his trousers.
Neubarth seized upon this moment of diversion to make his exit. Once he was outside, he reached back, closed the door, and then sagged against the wooden door sill. My God, my God, my God, he said to himself. He passed a shaky hand across his damp forehead, rested a moment more, then walked out towards his parked car.
He opened the driver's door and got in behind the steering wheel, and then heard a commotion in the back seat. He whirled around to see Junior and Marnie sitting up and frantically trying to get back into their clothing. Junior looked very embarrassed. He fumblingly zipped up the front of his trousers and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Marnie struggled to pull her panties back up over her protruding pubis. Her gigantic breasts swayed rhythmically as she tried to fasten her bra around them.
Neubarth looked back towards the front, and patiently waited for them to don their apparel. When they had, Junior spoke in a little-boy tone. "We love each other. We're going to get married."
"Are you indeed," Neubarth said in reply. He waited for some word from Marnie, but beyond Junior's short statement there was only silence from the back seat.
"Would you like us to drive you home, Marnie?" Neubarth asked, without turning around.
"Yes, she would, Dad," Junior said in her stead.
He started the car and moved out down the dark street. The young people said nothing more, but a very active dialogue was going on in Neubarth's mind. He realized that Marnie was still very attractive to him, and he assumed that his feelings were minor in comparison with the feeling she had for him. But it was insane; Junior might be a good partner for her. He wondered about allowing his son to marry a girl who had been involved in probably more than a few affairs. But, allowing his liberality to govern his instinctive distaste for the situation, he decided that this was unimportant. What was immediately more troubling to him was the unappetizing triangle of himself, his son, and Marnie Croft.
CHAPTER SIX
The next few summer days unfolded uneventfully at the Neubarth household. Louise seemed to be regaining her former cheerfulness. She busied herself with domestic chores, and with her occasional outings to her bridge club. Farley came home tired from his job at the ice cream store, and after watching a little TV, usually went straight to bed. But Junior was a problem. He found no job, nor did he appear to be looking for one. He just lay on his bed, listlessly reading or staring at the ceiling throughout the day. In the evenings he wolfed down his supper, and rapidly dressed and left the house. Neubarth assumed that he was spending his time at Marnie's apartment.
Neubarth himself fell into the teaching routine as he usually did, but as regular as the job had become to him, he could not help feeling a little disturbed at his apparent lack of enthusiasm or inventiveness. It was very little of a surprise therefore, when he found a letter from the Dean in his box in the administration building one day. The Dean requested Neubarth to meet with him at his earliest convenience.
Neubarth entered Dean Moriarity's office and immediately began to speak. "I know what you have to say, Dean Moriarity. I know that I haven't been teaching my classes very well. It's just that I've been feeling ill all this month."
"No, Victor," the baldheaded man said as he arose from behind his desk and began to pace back and forth in front of Neubarth. "I haven't called you in to take you to task about your teaching." The man did not look into Neubarth's eyes. He obviously felt embarrassed about something. "Quite frankly, I've gotten some reports lately that link you with some off-campus parties. Parties that reportedly were of an ... orgiastic nature."
Neubarth protested. "Confront me with my accusers," he demanded.
"Well, we don't know who the accusers are. But there have been several phone calls," Dean Moriarity said. "Now Victor, I don't for a moment think that these allegations are completely true. But surely you realize our position in the community. We can't afford a scandal." Neubarth got up. "There must be no chinks in our image, Victor." The bald man's blue eyes darted in all directions behind his spectacles, still refusing to meet Neubarth's outraged gaze. "If you slip up, we'll have to ask for your resignation." He went back to his desk, and began to fidget with some papers. "That will be all, Victor."
Neubarth walked out of the room like a zombie. He believes the reports, Neubarth said to himself. He obviously regards me as an old lecher. And why shouldn't he, his thoughts continued, I am an old lecher. He felt stunned. It seemed to him as though his carefully nurtured reputation had suddenly been dashed to pieces. He was in a mood of complete depression as he continued his slow walk to the parking lot.
As he strolled down the shady sidewalk, a flash of something red intruded into the black convolutions of his morbid thinking. He looked up and saw, about a hundred yards away, someone's flaming red hair. The face beneath that hair then turned, and Neubarth saw what looked like a wide grin. Rhadaman! The young man passed behind a building, grinning still toward Neubarth across the wide expanse of lawn. He knows! Neubarth shouted to himself. He knows of this recent humiliation in the Dean's office. He felt an overpowering wave of nausea sweep over him, and, ducking hurriedly into a clump of bushes, he vomited.
As he was driving home, he still felt shaky, but managed to choke down the rising sickness. He parked in his driveway, then ran into the house and into the bathroom, where he gave vent to his powerful sick feeling by regurgitating long into the toilet bowl. After that he felt a little better, but terribly weak. He went into the living room and lay down on the sofa.
He was awakened by someone opening the front door about an hour later. Neubarth saw that it was Farley. The boy tiptoed cautiously into the room, looked around, and hurried into the kitchen. The late afternoon shadows concealed Neubarth. He lay in the semidarkness, wondering what Farley was up to. For some reason, he remained silent, curious now as to what his younger son's secretive behavior might mean. After completing his inspection of the house, Farley went back out the front door, and reentered almost immediately, leading a very young girl by the hand.
"There's nothing to worry about, Shirley. Nobody's here," the boy said in a whisper.
"I don't know, Farley," she replied in a frightened tone. "I think I want to go home. Somebody might come."
"Listen, Shirley, I'm sure nobody will be home for at least another hour." His whisper rose in volume. "And besides, you said you wanted to do it. You're not trying to back out are you?"
"No, no. I want to do it," she said placatingly, "but ... I never have before. I'm scared."
He gripped her by the arm and, as he led her out of the room and down the hall, he said, "It won't hurt, Shirley. It'll be fine."
Neubarth stayed silent, not attempting to move for a few minutes. Then he slid off the couch, and in his stocking feet, tiptoed down the hall to the door of Farley's room. The boy, not thinking that anyone was at home, had left the door partway open. Neubarth crouched down in the dark hall and looked through the gap. Farley sat on the bed, and Shirley stood before him with her face directed towards the floor.
"Come over here, Shirley," Farley said in a husky voice.
The girl stepped hesitantly towards him, and he reached out, caught her arm, and pulled her down beside him onto the bed. He planted his mouth on hers, and after quite some time, lifted his head again. Neubarth could hear the young girl's labored breathing.
"Let's take off our clothes, Shirley," Farley said, then stood up and pulled his polo shirt over his head. "Want me to help you, honey?" His voice was shrill with anticipation. Without waiting for her answer, he reached down and tugged her to her feet, then put his hand on the front of her blouse.
Neubarth could see the girl's adolescent breasts rise and fall with excitement as Farley began to unbutton the garment. Neubarth knew that it was about time to make his presence known in one way or another, and thus put a halt to the sex experiments of these children. But he found that he was captivated by the little drama. He continued to watch as Farley finally got the blouse undone and thrust it back upon the girl's shoulders. The cups of her bra were diminutive, but the girl had obviously outgrown it. The fatty flesh of her still-small breasts oozed up over the top of the garment. Farley cupped his hand around one of her miniature mounds, and then with his other hand pried his own pants buttons loose and kicked his legs out of the piece of clothing. The girl looked down at his pubescent penis which struck out against the fabric of his underwear, and Neubarth heard her breathing change to aroused little sighs. Farley yanked down his undershorts, and stood completely nude before the now intimidated girl. She glanced again at his erect organ, then pulled her blouse together at the front.
"No, we can't do this Farley. We're too young."
"I'm not too young," The boy replied. "And you're not either."
He pulled her blouse apart again, then encircled her with his arms and, breathing stertorously into her ear, began to unfasten the hasps of her bra. After much fumbling he got it undone, and pulled it roughly away from her. She tried to bring her hands up to hide her budding little mammaries, but Farley was faster. He managed to fasten his fingers upon the rosy nipple of one of her breasts, and the girl looked at him in great dismay.
"Don't you ever want to grow up, Shirley?" the boy asked fiercely. "Or do you want to stay a little kid all your life?"
Upon hearing these words, she dropped her hands to her sides, her face a study in stony forbearance. Neubarth raised his head to get a better look. Her little breasts jutted out abruptly, and because of Farley's busy fingers, the pink nipples were rising into tiny pinnacles. Farley suddenly backed off.
"All right, Shirley. Do you want to get out of your clothes now, or do you still want to play kid games?"
Determined to behave in as adult a manner as anyone, Shirley reached down and grasped the zipper of her slacks, drew it down, and stepped out of them. Farley rec-lined on the bed now, watching her through slitted eyes. She stood there for a moment, clad only in her flimsy panties. Then, with lips trembling, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the bit of silk, sobbed audibly, and pushed the frail garment down her legs. The fatty mound above her vaginal opening was not fully -haired as yet; blonde fuzz sprinkled it sparsely, allowing Neubarth a full view of the flushed, slightly open lips of her sex. Despite himself, he was becoming a little excited. He strained even further forward.
Farley's previously narrowed eyes had become wide-open and attentive. His tongue moved along his lips as he perused the naked body of the young girl, and finally, voice shaking, he said, "Come on over here, honey." The girl moved forward like a marionette, her face still set in a determined expression. The boy reached out and grabbed her, and drew her down onto the bed beside him. He immediately began to massage the youthful little mound between her thighs, and inserted his finger into the tight groove of her sex. While doing this he dropped his face down upon one of her breasts and sucked at the rosebud of her nipple until it reared up in a half-inch tower of aroused flesh. Shirley's wooden expression dropped away. Her breath began to grow rasping, her eyes closed in ecstasy and her rouged lips hung apart.
Farley crawled back a little way, spread her slender thighs with his hands, then knelt between her widespread legs. His rigid penis was poised just above the girl's velvety sex. He fell forward upon her, the girl's arms encircled him, and then Neubarth could see the boy's flanks gyrating in the fading light from the window. The girl yelled as he thrust home, and then her cries of pain rapidly shifted to moans of sexual stimulation as their joined bodies moved in a mutual rhythm. Very soon Farley's body collapsed, and he lay limply upon her as she continued to pump upward. Finally she stopped, too, and said, "Are you through already?" He groaned something in reply, and she immediately began to cry.
Neubarth, pushing forward to enable himself to see even better, kicked the door with his stockinged foot. The couple on the bed suddenly grew very still.
"Did you hear that Farley?" asked Shirley in an anxious whisper.
"Yeah," he replied. "I don't think it was anything."
"Someone's here. I know someone's here," she said in a loud whisper.
Neubarth didn't wait to hear any further talk from the two, but silently stole away from the door, accelerated his pace to a quick, shuffling run, and ducked into the bathroom. He quietly closed the door behind him, then locked it. How deplorable this is, he thought. Not only my son's libertine behavior, but me spying on him like that. What's the next step, he wondered, peeping through my neighbors' windows? Actually, the thought was exciting to him. He saw himself, clad in some black garb, lurking around like a prowler in the night. He shook his head despondently. No hope, no hope.
He sat there for a while, immersed in his pessimistic thoughts. During this time, Shirley insisted that she and Farley get dressed, and when they had, Farley went with her to the front door, bade her farewell, and returned to his room. He stretched out on the bed and began to run the delights he had just partaken of through his feverish mind.
Soon thereafter, Louise came home and immediately went to the kitchen to begin preparing supper. Neubarth heard the noises that indicated that his family was home and about their regular evening business, and so arose from the toilet seat and tried to shake off the troubling thoughts that had permeated his mind. He came out of the bathroom just as Farley left his room, and they almost bumped into each other in the narrow hall.
"How long have you been home, Dad?" the boy asked in an alarmed voice.
"Just a few minutes Farley." Neubarth said tiredly. "Let's go eat."
Obviously relieved, the boy smiled broadly and began to talk enthusiastically about his school work as he and his father made their way to the kitchen.
Neubarth entered the room to be greeted with a cheery "hello" from Louise. A large stock of opened cans and fresh meat sat upon the cupboard counter. It was apparent that Louise was in the midst of preparing something of a special meal.
"Junior's bringing a friend home to dinner, darling!" she gushed. "I think it's that girl he's been seeing so much of lately. He seems quite serious about her." She went back to slicing a large cut of sirloin into long strips, humming a gay tune as she worked.
Neubarth knew that Junior's "friend" could be none other than Marnie. He felt a recurrence of his nausea and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. How will I ever get through dinner? he wondered. He knew that even seeing the girl again would cause sexual desire to possess his senses. Without having willed it, his mind's eye saw Marnie, superbly nude, stretched out on a bed. She writhed seductively against the sheet, and the great hillocks of her breasts caressed the white material as he gyrated. Her nipples stood out like maroon antennas, infinitely inviting. Her white thighs jiggled as she turned this way and that, and the crisp foliage that adorned her mound of venus glistened with little dewdrops of perspiration. Neubarth imagined the pink and damp inner areas of her vagina, glistening like raw steak as she spread her legs wide and held out her arms to receive her approaching lover. The daydream fell apart as the imagined lover came forward. Neubarth could see only Junior, falling onto the plump curves of Marnie's receptive body.
He jerked upright, hanging onto the back of the chair to steady himself. He was aware that he was shaking violently, and that his mind was aswirl with jealousy, desire, and an awful recognition of where this radically emotional train of thought might lead him.
"You're face is as white as a sheet, honey!" Louise said anxiously, coming over to rest her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you don't feel well. Why don't you lie down and take a little nap before dinner."
Neubarth followed his wife's suggestion, but he had barely dropped off into a troubled sleep before he heard a hubbub from the living room which signified that Junior and his guest had arrived. Neubarth got up, resolved that he could behave as patriarchally proper as anyone, and walked into the living room.
As soon as he had made his entrance, Marnie's eyes lit up with frank pleasure. She looked very beautiful, clad in a short, yellow dress that contrasted attractively with her dark expression. The neckline of the dress dipped quite a bit lower than anything Neubarth had seen her in previously. Louise glanced ruefully at the extreme fullness of the girl's bust, and at the broad expanse of white flesh above the yellow material.
At the dinner table, Neubarth chewed pensively on the succulent beef stroganoff, and glanced furtively at Marnie from time to time. Junior fairly bubbled with good cheer. He bent towards Marnie continually, solicitously offering her another helping of meat or another spoonful of broccoli. Usually she demurred, saying that she needed to watch her weight. Junior protested violently, stating emphatically that she was "just right." When they had begun their dessert, Junior turned to Neubarth.
"I hope you don't mind, Dad. I've invited some people over for the evening. Now, don't worry. We won't disturb you or Mom. We're just going to talk, play some quiet music, and maybe have a few beers."
Another party! thought Neubarth frantically. He was about to say that he didn't want anyone over, that he had too much work to do. But then, realizing that this would sound very stuffy, blithely told his son that it would be fine. Hementally decided to barricade himself in his study for the entire evening.
After dinner, he stated the proper conventionalities to Marnie, and then hurriedly went to his study and locked the door behind him. He leaned against the inside of the door for a few minutes, disturbed at how rapidly his heart was pounding, then walked slowly to his desk, sat down, and opened a book of plays that he was going to discuss in his literature class the following week.
Neubarth managed to become completely engrossed in his reading. The vivid characters of the play before him held his attention effectively, and he even began making a few notes as to how he could present it in lecture to his students. He was following a particularly intriguing thought, trying tomentally construct his prospective lecture, when he heard a thunder of laughter from the other room. He gazed towards the door. The laughter boomed out again, followed by the clamor of music from the stereo. Neubarth's thoughts were scattered, and he felt a great anger building in him. So, this is Junior's idea of a "quiet party", he thought. He slammed his chair back against the wall, walked rapidly to the door, wrenched it open, and hurried down the hall, thinking just when things are going well, this happens.
He entered the wide room with the intention of finding Junior and reading him out in no uncertain terms. Instead, he came to a standstill at the entrance into the living room, and gazed in amazement at the twenty or more people who were there. Neubarth could not understand how this many people could have congregated here in such a short time. They must have arrived all at once, he decided. He saw Louise sitting on the couch, laughing and holding aloft a beer can. Junior sat nearby, and he appeared already to have drunk too much. Marnie sat next to him, her hand placed possessively on his denimed thigh. Neubarth looked around for Farley, and then remembered with relief that he had gone to the movies. He saw Sigrid. Her blonde hair hung down the back of her dress and glowed with a golden radiance in the lamplight. She wore a miniskirt, astonishingly short. Its hemline struck her just below the buttocks, so that her long, well-muscled legs were completely exposed as she walked through the milling crowd. Neubarth saw several more faces that he recognized from one party or another. He moved back to lean against the wall, trying to orientate his thoughts so as to cope with this disturbing development, and in doing so, bumped into someone who stood directly behind him.
He turned his head, and his first impression was of a fireworks display. He blinked his eyes, then rubbed them with his hand, and upon opening them again, saw a brilliantly red halo of hair around someone's face.
"Hello, Professor," the face said. "It was most kind of you to invite us all her tonight."
"But I didn't ... " Neubarth began. Rhadaman's wildly prismatic eyes burned into his own, and he found that he could say no more. "We're going to have a lovely time here tonight, Professor," Rhadaman continued. "I'm sure of it."
Through the numbness in his head, Neubarth felt fear. He managed to resist the magnetic attraction of Rhadaman's glowing orbs, however, by looking into the crowd. Louise was beginning to appear just as drunkenly lascivious as she had at the party at Beatrice Holman's. She was exchanging coy glances with a young man who sat near her. She was obviously beginning to feel whatever she had had to drink, for her skirt was rumpled up above the tops of her stockings, and she made no move to straighten it. Neubarth watched the young man reach out and pat her breast, then laughingly tell her that he had slipped. She laughed back at him, obviously pleased at the attention he was paying her. Junior had slipped down further on the couch, and his eyes were closed. His drunkenness had apparently overtaken him. Marnie leaned against him solicitously. She nuzzled his ear with her ruby lips, and Neubarth saw the abrupt contours of her ripe body flattened against Junior's limp form.
Neubarth's fear of Rhadaman's dreaded and mysteriously corruptive influence was suddenly overpowered by the burning rage he felt at seeing such unsavory events taking place in his own home. He moved to walk over towards Louise and Junior, so that he could berate them both, but was held back by a viselike grip on his arm, and then by the hideously familiar voice which said, "Why disturb them, Professor. Besides, Sigrid looks like she's about to perform. Look!"
Neubarth turned his head in the direction in which he had last seen the blonde girl. The crowd had shifted to form a crude circle around her, and she was doing a series of very energetic floor exercises before their attentive eyes. At Rhadaman's prodding, Neubarth moved forward, and they both came to stand among Sigrid's admiring audience.
"Sigrid always seems to get around to her athletic exhibitions," Rhadaman said. "They're rather uncouth, but ... interesting. Eh, Professor?"
Neubarth said nothing in reply. His eyes were fixed upon the active body of the young blonde. She was doing a sequence of cartwheels at the moment, the furthest advance of which caused her to crash into the wall of popeyed young men to her right. The girl laughed uproariously, and the watchers laughed in response while pushing her out into the middle of the circle again. A few of them took advantage of her proximity by running their hands down her sleek legs or by plucking furtively at her bosom. She continued doing the cartwheels, her legs spread wide as she described great arcs in the air. Neubarth could see the periodically exposed crotch of her panties, and the bright pattern that her long, yellow hair wove in the smoke-filled air. He began to feel a little dizzy as he conscientiously followed Sigrid's every movement, but his growing sexual excitement did not allow him to look away.
She altered the routine by leaping high into the air and coming down in a split position. This change in her program met with oohs and aahs from the crowd, and Neubarth heard one young man say loudly, "Why don't you perform without the pants, baby!" This remark was immediately followed by another just at his side: "An excellent idea." Neubarth turned to see Rhadaman walk out through the ring of watchers up to Sigrid. Without so much as a "by your leave" he reached under her dress and tugged her red panties down to her shoe tops. She stood and looked at him for a moment, and Neubarth could see in her eyes the same fear that he himself felt. Finally she looked away, regained her smiling visage, and kicked the panties away from her.
"In fact, Sigrid," said Rhadaman loudly, "why don't you dispense with all your clothing?"
This suggestion was met with shouts of approval from the assembled young men. Sigrid's lips trembled momentarily, but she quickly sought out the zipper at the side of her dress and drew it down.
"Anything to please my public," she said, smiling again. The group around her yelled with excited glee, and then collectively grew silent as she stepped out of the ultrashort dress, and reached behind her to unlatch her bra. The soft hair at her groin glowed with the same golden luminescence as did the hair of her head. She got her bra undone, pulled it away from her thrusting breasts, and threw it on the floor. Neubarth gazed on those familiar white mounds with desire pulsing at great speed through his veins. His heart thumped resoundingly.
"Now, turn around slowly, Sigrid," Rhadaman said in an authoritative voice. "Let us see every facet of your lovely young body."
The girl pirouetted obediently, her smile taking on a wooden appearance. Her red nipples hardened into rigidity as she herself grew excited at exposing herself so frankly to all the men about her. She made several turns in slow motion, then launched into her acrobatics again. She dived forward, caught herself on her hands, and stood upright on them. She wobbled around for a few minutes, moving close to the ring of young men, so that they could reach out and stroke the warm felt of her pubic hair as she passed.
"This is getting boring," Rhadaman announced. "Any volunteers to liven things up a bit?"
The men's eyes moved to Rhadaman's face, and all of them seemed to understand what he was implying. One muscular young man moved forward to accept the proposal, but Rhadaman fixed his fiery eyes upon him and motioned him back.
"No, how about that guy?" he said, pointing to a small, timid-looking fellow who sat huddled up in a far corner of the room.
"Ronald?" someone nearby said. "You've got to be kidding. I doubt if he's ever had a woman. He's even afraid to come over and see the show."
"No, I'm not kidding." Rhadaman said. "Get him."
Several of the young men reluctantly left the circle and went over to where the timid boy sat. They bent over him and spoke a few words. Ronald looked up at them with frightened eyes, then shook his head. Ignoring his refusal, three of the young men plucked him upright and pushed him across the room towards Rhadaman. When Ronald stood directly before Rhadaman, the red-haired young man stared deeply into his eyes.
"Would you like to make it with this willowy young lady, Ronald?" He pointed towards Sigrid, who stood perspiring in the center of the ring. Ronald's tongue ran feverishly along his lips as he stared at Sigrid's nude body. She grinned at him and humped her pelvic region a few times. The boy was shaking visibly. He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the furry pelt at Sigrid's crotch, and turned to go away.
"No, I don't ... " he began, but Rhadaman had already motioned to several of the watchers. They moved in on Ronald quickly and, despite his violent protests, began to strip him of his clothing. "Oh please!" he yelled shrilly. His tormentors ignored his cries, and soon had him down to his jockey shorts. The young men pushed him down onto the floor, and pulled his shorts from off his kicking legs. He instantly turned a beet-red color, twisted onto his side, and covered his genitals with his hands.
"Oh come on, Ronald," Rhadaman said. "It's not like you were being asked to do something painful. Stand him up, fellas." Ronald was lifted to his feet and held upright by several strong hands.
"Oh, why did I ever come here," he sobbed. "You guys know I'm going to be a minister." Upon hearing this, several of the men holding Ronald released him and stepped back. Rhadaman, however, fairly bubbled with malice.
"A minister, Ronald?" he asked as he stepped up close to the intimidated boy and gripped his arm. "Now, isn't that delightful." Ronald averted his face to avoid looking into Rhadaman's eyes. "Don't you think it would be considerate to show your, uh ... privates to your imminent partner in a carnal bliss?" He snatched each of Ronald's hands away from his crotch and held them away from his body. The boy's limp penis dangled there like a strand of wet macaroni. He cried like a child who has just been spanked, and a few of the onlookers began to murmur that he should be released. Rhadaman, however, had no such intention. He called Sigrid over, and after whispering something into her ear, stepped behind Ronald while still holding tightly to his arms. The girl knelt before the frightened boy and thrust her mouth up around his quivering genitals. Her tongue darted out and ran wetly over his shrunken scrotum, then up the length of his penis to its head. She then pushed her mouth up around the awakening organ and moved her face back and forth. The boy's sobs did not slacken, but his rapidly stiffening sex belied his outward horror at the situation. His weeping soon became short, explosive gasps as the girl worked unremittingly on his swelling penis.
Rhadaman suddenly released him, and Ronald, having been stimulated beyond endurance, flung himself at Sigrid and they both collapsed into an ungainly tangle of arms and legs onto the carpet.
Rhadaman crouched down beside them, and held the eager Ronald back.
"The first step in making love to such a beauty as Sigrid, Ron, is to go down on her with gusto."
Ronald looked up into Rhadaman's flashing eyes with an expression of bewilderment on his face. Sigrid, meanwhile, lay back and spread her legs in readiness. Rhadaman then clutched the boy's head with both hands and pushed his face down into the clump of blonde hair which covered her sex. Rhadaman continued to hold him there for a couple of minutes more, and eventually Ronald warmed to his appointed task and began to work his mouth against the opening of Sigrid's vagina as though he had been doing it all his life. The girl responded to his ministrations by wrapping her thighs about his bobbing head and snorting with excitement. After a few minutes her outbursts of breath changed to a loud wail. Her body reared and bucked, then shuddered convulsively, and she lay still.
Rhadaman reached down, grabbed Ronald's shoulder, and said "Your turn, O man of God." Ronald cringed at this ironic reference to his beliefs, but he was too far gone at this point, so he leaped forward and fell upon Sigrid's soft form. He grabbed up one of her nipples in his mouth and, sputtering like an exhausted engine, tried to stick his stiff penis into the girl's vagina. Before he could do so though, he shuddered and yelled in a high tone, and ejaculated onto Sigrid's creamy thigh. The girl immediately kicked him aside, stood up and wiped the translucent fluid from her thigh with Ronald's shirt, and then spat down upon him. "Pig!" she yelled, then strode away toward a young man who sat on the couch, plopped onto his lap, and began kissing him. Ronald remained on the floor, huddled up into a pathetic heap and sobbing as though his world had ended.
"Now, it's not all that bad, fella," said Rhadaman in a falsely commiserative tone. "You just got a little too eager. Next time you might make it all the way." He patted the boy's quivering shoulder and grinned broadly.
Neubarth was shaken by this display of utter depravity. He reeled away to an empty chair and sat down heavily. Suddenly there was a cry from across the room. He looked quickly towards it and saw Marnie standing upright, shrieking at Rhadaman, "You filthy, filthy bastard! That was the most rotten�" Here words failed her, and she spluttered in rage.
"Now, now, Marnie," Rhadaman replied calmly. "Just a little sport!"
"A little sport?" she screamed like one possessed.
Neubarth looked for Junior, and saw him lying outstretched on the floor, dead to the world. He saw Louise off in a corner with a young man. Her skirt was up above her waist, and the anonymous young man was caressing the protruding mound of her sex while she bit gently at his ear. Lost, lost, he thought. He let his head sink into his hands.
Marnie, meanwhile, had advanced across the room, and was standing directly before Rhadaman, shouting obscenities up into his face. Neubarth looked up towards them, and saw, in that instant, something like a black cloud pass across Rhadaman's face. His hair shone like shooting flame, and sparks pin wheeled in his eyes.
"I suggest that you be careful, Marnie, dear," Rhadaman said ominously.
The threat did not make Marnie stop, but his eyes did. She had turned her face up as though making ready to spit in his face, when suddenly she halted in midsentence.
"Why don't some of you guys help Miss Croft out of her clothes," said Rhadaman in a carefully controlled voice. "I think she wants to join in our fun and games."
Most of the watchers had gone home or moved to other parts of the room, but two of Rhadaman's more constant cronies moved in to comply with his suggestion. Marnie, her face a study in terror, backed away. Neubarth made a move to go to her aid, but had gotten only partly out of his chair, when he collapsed limply back into it. What's the use, he thought.
Rhadaman's two friends backed Marnie into a corner, then one of them reached out and plucked at the buttons on her dress. She screamed, ducked around them, and ran toward Neubarth. They caught her again, and Rhadaman came up to supervise the proceedings as Neubarth stared dumbly down at the struggling girl.
"Help me, Victor! Help me!" she yelled.
"It's no use, Marnie," Neubarth muttered. "No use at all."
"A wise evaluation of the situation, Professor," Rhadaman said as he bent down and began to unfasten the buttons at the front of her yellow dress. She continued to kick feebly, but was held fast by Rhadaman's friends, and could only break into sobs as he steadily unbuttoned her dress. Rhadaman pulled the garment from her body, and Marnie was clad only in panties and bra. The three turned her over onto her stomach, and Rhadaman expertly flicked loose the four clasps of her bra, then tugged it away and threw it on the floor. His hands moved down to her silken panties. He hooked his fingers around the waistband and pulled the scrap of material down her legs, then tossed it aside, too. Her firm buttocks shook as she kept up her sobbing.
All three of the young men then stood up, and Rhadaman left for a moment, returning with a leather quirt in his hands � the same brutal instrument that Neubarth had seen him wield on another occasion. He stood with his feet wide apart above the unfortunate girl, slapping the quirt against his thigh. Neubarth looked away.
"There's no need to look away, Professor," Rhadaman said. "I don't think I'll have to use this." He looked down at the girl. "Turn over Marnie."
She didn't move, but only continued to sob pathetically.
"Turn her over!" Rhadaman barked to his two henchmen.
The lasciviously grinning duo immediately bent, grabbed Marnie by an arm and a hip, and flung her onto her back.
Her tears had caused her heavily mascaraed eyes to run. Black blotches gauded her cheekbones and discolored her eyebrows. She tried to cover her pudendum with her hands, but her arms were grasped by Rhadaman's cronies and held away from her body. Her dark pubic hair was bushy and puffed out, like a bouffant hairdo. Her massive breasts cascaded down onto the carpet on each side of her body. The ruby nipple areas were shrunken and withered. She squirmed to loose herself from her relentless tormentors, but soon gave up trying.
"Now, Marnie," said Rhadaman, crouching down beside the supine girl. "Your brash and insulting speech has gotten you into a little trouble, hasn't it?" He paused to brush away the hand of one of his friends, who was busily tweaking one of her cherry-red nipples. "We would like to see you play with yourself. And not half-heartedly, mind you, but with enthusiasm. I'll do my part by acting as your director, Marnie, so keep in mind that your only alternative is this!" He stood up and thwacked the tightly braided whip against his leg. "Actually, either way it goes would be pleasurable for me."
Marnie had closed her eyes at the beginning of his monologue, but now opened them to eye with horror the vicious black quirt, which rose and fell with an ugly slapping sound against Rhadaman's thigh. She began to cry again, and the young men holding her arms laughed as the tears rolled down her cheeks.
In empathy with her distress, Neubarth began to sob also, though he made no move to come to her assistance. Rhadaman looked over at him and chuckled throatily, saying, "How touching, Professor. Anyone could see that you care deeply for our delicious victim. Splendid, that will increase our enjoyment of the impending spectacle." He looked down at the girl, and his eyes glittered malignantly. "Begin with your breasts, my dear. You know � fondle the lovely pert nipples and massage the sweet flesh. Now!"
Marnie jerked as he yelled this last command. She swiveled her head to look around once more for help from some quarter. Neubarth looked, too. Junior still lay motionless on the carpet, and off in a corner of the room, Louise was making fervent love to a young man who lay atop her. The pale whiteness of her naked flesh glowed dimly in the semidarkness, and short cries of passion sounded from the nude couple. Neubarth saw her flanks lift and fall in the timeless rhythm of sex. The only other people left in the room were copulating on the sofa. One of them was Sigrid, whose long blonde hair swept against the carpet as she vigorously pumped upward to meet the downthrusting penis of the dark-skinned male above her.
The whip cracked against Marnie's white skin, and she screamed throatily. Neubarth looked at her through bleary eyes, and saw the red trail of the quirt's assault etched across her navel. Choking with anguish, her hands darted to her breasts, and she began to knead the heavy meat with unsteady fingers. Her pendulous mounds shook with her sobs as she worked them.
"Oh, come on, come on," Rhadaman said. "With enthusiasm, I said." He lashed downward with the leather quirt again, and a line of bloody beads appeared upon both of the girl's quaking hillocks. There was an ugly gurgling sound from deep in her throat, but she quickly began to pluck at the uplifted nipples, rolling them between thumb and index finger, and pulling out on them with frenzied movements.
"Oh, hell," said Rhadaman. "This is nowhere. Get to the box."
The girl spread her thighs widely apart, and inserted her fingers deeply into the exposed pinkness of her sex. She spread her legs even further, propping one foot up upon the chair where Neubarth sat, and then using both hands, spread the livid outer lips that nestled between her thighs, and poked each of her index fingers into the yawning, slippery-sided cavity of her vagina. After a few minutes, her body began to arch in ecstasy, and her exhalations came raspingly from her open mouth. She plunked the rigid button of her clitoris rapidly while the trio crouched around her and watched with great interest. She began to beat the carpet with her protuberant buttocks, and her head was bent acutely backwards as she snorted with an unwilled passion.
"Okay. Okay." Rhadaman said in a bored voice. "Get Sigrid, you guys."
The young men leaped up, hurried over to Sigrid, and both of them dragged the protesting man from her straining body. The dark-skinned fellow yelled a few curses at his attackers and raised an arm as if to strike them. One of Rhadaman's friends read the movement, however, and brought an empty beer bottle down on his head viciously. With a moan he collapsed onto the floor, and lay motionless amid the broken glass.
"What the hell is this?" Sigrid asked angrily.
"We need your assistance, Sigrid," Rhadaman said matter-of-factly. "We'd like to see you and Marnie here do it together. I'm sure you won't mind."
Sigrid glanced at the quirt on Rhadaman's lap, then down at Marnie's perspiring body, then back at the quirt. "All right," she said.
"Then get on it, babe!" Rhadaman said, his eyes flashing like sun-struck mirrors.
Sigrid's face crumpled with fear. She ran over to Marnie and lay down on top her, with her face nestled into the dark pubic muff. Her tongue darted out into the glistening cavern, and she sucked energetically at the upraised peak of Marnie's erect clitoris. After a few minutes, Marnie began to respond. The tendons on her neck stood out as she strained upward in an effort to bring her mouth in contact with Sigrid's golden-haired grotto.
The watchers, except for Neubarth, hungrily watched the two girls' mouths, which were busily at work in each other's genital regions. Their self-inflicted ardour grew and grew, until they began to rock back and forth in the fervor, and Marnie's arms now encircled Sigrid's plump buttocks. Her nails dug into the snowy flesh as she approached climax.
"You know, fellas," said Rhadaman, "I have an idea which might liven things up a little." His friends looked eagerly toward him. He was busily lubricating the neck of a beer bottle with some colorless ointment from a blue tube. When he got the bottle properly greased, he tossed it to the nearest young man, and said, "Here, Rick. Let's double Sigrid's pleasure."
Behaving as if he knew precisely what Rhadaman had in mind, Rick jumped upright, grinned like a child pulling the wings from a fly, and bent over Sigrid's shaking buttocks. He brushed Marnie's spasmodically clutching hands aside, spread the cheeks of Sigrid's bulging rear, and inserted the neck of the beer bottle into the tiny brown mouth of her anus. She bucked and cried out incoherently, then threw herself even more actively into the sucking of Marnie's clitoris. Rick drove the neck of the bottle repeatedly into Sigrid's delicate rear aperture, in a distinctly copulatory rhythm.
Neubarth raised his head slowly and looked down at the two sweating girls. Rank fishy fumes rose up from around Sigrid's busy face, which was buried in Marnie's odorous thatch, and noisy slurping sounds erupted from the weirdly coupled pair. Both of the girls began to shriek simultaneously. Sigrid collapsed first, after shuddering mightily, and shortly thereafter Marnie shouted one final "Ah!" and lay still.
After a little while Rhadaman spoke. "You guys go ahead and get your kicks now, if you want."
Rick and his friend, having grown very excited watching the two striving girls, were beside themselves with eagerness. They tore Sigrid away from Marnie, and then gazed down at the two, wondering which of them to take.
"I want this one with the big boobies," said Rick.
The other young man nodded in agreement, pulled his pants and underwear down and lay on the carpet with his erect penis against Sigrid's opened mouth. "Work out, baby!" he commanded, and Sigrid immediately complied by closing her mouth around the bulging staff and licking the swollen head with her tongue, while swiveling her face rapidly upon the axis of the young man's organ.
Rick, meanwhile, had divested himself of his clothing and, after sucking Marnie's large nipples for a few minutes, seated himself upon her stomach facing her legs. He grabbed up the beer bottle which had been used on Sigrid's anus, and began to plunge it into Marnie's wet vagina. It took only a few thrusts of the crude instrument to reawaken Marnie's passion. She began to moan as she had before, and to grind her loins upward into the downward-driving bottle neck. When he was satisfied that she was sufficiently aroused, Rick tossed the bottle aside and scooted down so that his rigid penis was in Marnie's face. Realizing what was expected of her, she gripped the shank of Rick's sex and, after kissing its purple head several times, pulled it into her mouth and began to move it rapidly back and forth between her strawberry lips.
Sigrid's sexual partner reached orgasm first. As he did, she pulled away, gulped down his ejaculative fluid and lay back with a little smile of contentment. Rick reached his climax with a few hoarse cries, and, when he had finished, Marnie squirmed out from under him and prepared to spit his semen out onto the carpet. Rhadaman, who had been watching avidly, reached out and expertly flicked the end of the quirt into Marnie's pubic bush. The blow was fairly gently delivered, causing the girl to jerk, and to look up into Rhadaman's eyes with a frightened and bewildered expression on her face.
"That stuff you have in your mouth, dear girl," Rhadaman said. "I think it would be most impolite to spit it out. Swallow it! And I suggest that you keep it down, or things might not go too easily for you!" He slashed the whip through the air, and its hissing passage made his threat horribly significant.
Marnie closed her eyes in total resignation, and her Adam's apple bobbed as the repulsive glob was swallowed. She fell over on her side and lay quietly. Both Rhadaman and Neubarth gazed down on the perspiring and panting bodies of the four young people, who lay in various sprawled positions as though they had just retired from the intensities of a Roman orgy. Off in the corner Neubarth could see Louise still making grotesquely sexual movements with her nude body as she subjected her youthful partner to a veritable marathon of lustful activity. But he felt nothing. The evening had burned all caring about proprieties out of his tortured mind. It is no use caring he thought, all is lost. He realized that Rhadaman's corruptive influence had become all-powerful, that once one had succumbed to his degrading designs, everything decent was over. Neubarth's brain had been flooded with these morbid thoughts for several minutes when suddenly he heard a long sigh from his left. He looked over to see Rhadaman sitting with his head bent.
"Maybe I've been a little too extreme in seeking my pleasures," Ted Rhadaman said, turning towards Neubarth and looked at him with a winsome expression in his eyes. "Perhaps we should give the girls a ride home, huh, Professor?"
Neubarth was astounded. Rhadaman's eyes, glistening with a thin film of what looked like tears of contrition, seemed almost human. Neubarth nodded in agreement, and volunteered his car for the purpose of taking Sigrid and Marnie home to their apartments. They both got up and, failing to find any of the girls' clothing, which had mysteriously vanished, girded them instead in two large blankets. Rick and his friend also got dressed, and the six of them walked outside to Neubarth's car. Sigrid, Rick, and his friend got into the back seat, while Marnie, Rhadaman, and Neubarth slid into the front of the car. Rhadaman asked Neubarth if he minded if he drove, and Neubarth immediately nodded his assent, pleasantly surprised that Rhadaman could make such a normally courteous request. Perhaps the boy isn't all bad, Neubarth thought, perhaps he is now genuinely penitent about his past actions. As they got underway, he heard Marnie sobbing softly. Neubarth reached over, patted her thigh, and whispered that he thought everything would be all right. She fell over against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her and held her tightly to him. His entire body was immediately warmed by the soft proximity of her sweet form, and he realized anew the great tenderness that he felt for this unfortunate girl who had suffered so much lately. Neubarth felt the hot stirrings of desire begin to course through his veins, but realizing how incongruous these base feelings were at a moment like this, managed to quell his thoughts of Marnie's lush figure.
CHAPTER SEVEN
They drove silently down towards the center of town. Neubarth was a little annoyed at the speed with which Rhadaman piloted his car, but refrained from saying anything. A few minutes passed, and Neubarth saw the numerous street lamps which marked the town's business district. Why is he going this way? he wondered. He knew that his was not the proper route to take if one wanted to deliver either of the girls to their homes. He turned toward Rhadaman so that he could ask him what he was doing. At that moment they passed beneath a streetlight, and Neubarth saw the red-haired youth's face lit up with the same demoniac glee as it had been earlier in the evening. No! It's not over yet, he thought with horror. Immediately thereafter Rhadaman screeched to a halt in front of a well-lit all-night restaurant, turned around to look at his two henchmen, and smiled broadly.
"I think the girls would like to get out here," he said. "Assist Sigrid, gentlemen."
As though they had already been briefed on this by Rhadaman, Rick and his friend threw open one of the back doors, tore Sigrid's blanket away from her, and thrust the naked girl out into the bright street. Simultaneously, Rhadaman opened his door, pulled Marnie away from Neubarth, and pushed her down onto the concrete, while continuing to retain his grasp on her blanket.
"No, you can't do this, Rhadaman!" Neubarth screamed.
"Sure I can, Professor," retorted Rhadaman in a calm voice as he jumped back behind the steering wheel and locked his door. Rick also locked the rear door just before the two girls regained their feet and with their anxious faces pressed against the glass, began to pound their fists against the side of the automobile.
"For God's sake, let us in, Ted!" Marnie yelled through the glass at Rhadaman's grinning visage. He shook his head in reply, and drove off down the busy street. Neubarth jerked around in his seat and looked back towards where the two girls still stood in the middle of the street. Their white bodies shone in the lamplight, and Neubarth could see that their presence had disrupted traffic. Cars jerked to sudden halts on all sides of them, and drivers' heads could be seen protruding from their windows.
Rhadaman pulled over to the side of the street, and all of them stared back at the young women who huddled together in the center of the intersection, obviously terrified by their predicament, and uncertain as to what to do. The patrons of the restaurant flooded out onto the sidewalk to gawk at the delightful spectacle that had been presented to them. Rhadaman rolled down his window, and he and his two friends laughed hilariously as they watched. Neubarth continued to stare too, but all he felt was a deadening numbness growing within his body.
"Look at the big boobs on that one!"
"Hot damn, I'd like some of that!" some of the restaurant customers shouted. Suddenly there was an uproar near the rear of the distant crowd, and Neubarth could see about a dozen men, most of which were long-haired and grimy and dressed in bizarre apparel, forge their way through the packed spectators. One of them swung a short chain at someone who stood in his path. The recipient of the blow collapsed onto the sidewalk with a yelp of pain. Rhadaman glanced at his watch and muttered, "Right on time."
The dirty-looking group of men surrounded the two girls, then herded them towards a row of shining motorcycles. Two of them leaped onto their machines and the others lifted the girls up behind them. The frightened captives were forced to cling tightly to the sweat-streaked clothing of the two hoodlums as they kicked their glittering vehicles into noisy life, performed a matched pair of abrupt wheelstands, and roared down the street towards Neubarth's parked car. Both of the bearded, long-haired ruffians waved to Rhadaman as they passed like twin thunderbolts, and Rhadaman smiled conspiratorially in return. Neubarth caught a glimpse of Marnie's face as she passed. It was pressed against the dirty sweatshirt of the man she rode behind, and twisted in awful recognition of her probable fate. Her ponderous breasts were flattened against the man's back as she clung to him in abject fear of being hurled onto the pavement. As the strange melange of people drew away, Neubarth saw the girls' glaringly white buttocks spread out upon the black leather of the motorcycle seats. Neubarth wondered what the motorcycle riders might have in mind for the two unfortunates. When he heard the other members of the hoodlum group start their machines, and storm off in pursuit of their commdes like a single roaring engine, he knew that Marnie and Sigrid were doomed to undergo unheard of degradations.
"Why have you done this, Rhadaman?" he asked, his voice almost breaking. "You arranged for those disgusting characters to pick the girls up here, didn't you?" He ended the sentence by dropping his head into his hands and sobbing openly.
"You're exhibiting far too much sensibility, Professor," Rhadaman said as he started the car and pulled out into the traffic. "Surely you don't begrudge the noble order of the Hell's Angels having a little fun with our castoff playthings, do you?" He laughed long and hideously. "Hell's Angels. A lovely name, don't you think? Oh, by the way, Professor, I wouldn't count on seeing either Sigrid or Marnie for some time. I'm told that those fellows tend to be a bit possessive with their spoils."
Rick and his friend joined in Rhadaman's merriment.
"Isn't there any good in you, Rhadaman?" said Neubarth through his pitiful and convulsive sobs.
"Good?" Rhadaman yelled angrily. "Are you trying to make me ill? Anyway, I'm going to forget that stupid question for now," Rhadaman continued, his rage rapidly subsiding. "Our immediate problem is how we're going to spend the rest of the evening. Any suggestions?"
Rick leaned forward from the back seat and whispered something into Rhadaman's ear. Rhadaman nodded his head and smiled. "That is a very good idea, Richard. Very good, indeed." He jerked the car sharply to the left. The tires squealed shrilly on the concrete roadway, and the auto hurtled up a narrow street.
"We're going to pay a call on Claudia Petrie, Professor. Know her?"
Neubarth thought of tall, primly attractive young woman of thirty or so, who had joined the faculty as a history instructor only a year ago. He remembered watching her well-shaped calves as she walked down the campus sidewalks, and wondering whether or not her continually austere expression was an affectation or a genuine feeling of alienation from those around her. She certainly was withdrawn. She never uttered an unnecessary comment during faculty meetings, but why was Rhadaman going over to her house?
"Take me home!" Neubarth demanded, looking over at Rhadaman's still grinning face.
"We wouldn't think of it, Professor." The redheaded youth replied. "I think you will enjoy an evening at Miss Petrie's house. Though if the rumors I've heard of her being exclusively attracted to members of her own sex are true, then I'm afraid she won't enjoy the evening at all. But maybe we can enact her conversion to more normal pleasures. We shall see." He drove up in front of a small, white cottage set back from the road amidst trees, and turned the motor off.
"I'll try to procure an invitation for us, gentlemen," said Rhadaman. "Rick, you and Corbett stay with the Professor and prevent him from doing anything which might disrupt our plans. Wait in those shrubs over there, and when I enter the house, allow me a couple of minutes, then follow."
They all got out of the car quietly, and while Rhadaman walked up to the front door, Rick and Corbett kept a firm grasp on each of Neubarth's arms and directed him toward an overgrown hedge at the side of the house.
Rhadaman knocked boldly on the door of the cottage, while Rick put his hand over Neubarth's mouth and whispered into his ear, "You'd better keep quiet, Professor, and not spoil this for the rest of us. I really don't understand why Ted wants you with us anyway, but he does, so that's that."
After Rhadaman had waited for several minutes, the door was opened, and he immediately began to speak. Neubarth, listening closely, was appalled by Rhadaman's shameless dramatics, but could not help feeling admiration for the perverse young man's powers of persuasion.
"I realize that this is a ridiculous hour to come calling, Miss Petrie," Rhadaman said in a rapid, sophomoric tone, "but I have a problem, and I think that you're the one person who may be able to help me."
"I'm very sorry, uh ... Ted Rhadaman, isn't it? But as you say, this is a ridiculous hour, and I�"
"Oh, please, Miss Petrie," Rhadaman went on simperingly. "It's just that I think I may be asked to join the college faculty very soon, and ... well, the decision has become almost too much for me."
"I don't understand your problem, Mr. Rhadaman," she said in a concise, academic voice. "What decision are you speaking of? If you have been working toward teaching on the university level, then why not accept an invitation to join the staff?"
"Oh, my parents are decidedly in favor of my doing so," he said, shuffling his feet like a bashful suitor. "But, you see, I want to paint. I'm just wondering if it might not be more honest to devote all my time to developing myself as an artist. I thought that you, seeing as you have begun teaching fairly recently, might ... oh, I guess this was a stupid idea ... " He turned around and moved falteringly away.
"Wait, Mr. Rhadaman. You say you paint?" she said, her voice becoming more animated. "This is a curious coincidence. You see, I paint also."
"Really?" asked Rhadaman as he about-faced and stepped back up on the porch landing. "I had no idea."
"Yes, indeed. I've been painting for about ten years now," she said. "And though, financially, my rewards from my art haven't been much, I ... well, why don't you come in for a few minutes, Mr. Rhadaman. I think I have some coffee that we can warm up. But I must warn you, I can only afford a few minutes."
"Thank you, thank you, Miss Petrie," Rhadaman said effusively as he stepped within the screen door which she held open for him.
As the front door clicked shut behind them, Rick took his hand away from Neubarth's mouth and uttered a low chuckle. "Man, that cat has the touch," he said appreciatively.
He then clasped Neubarth by the elbow and directed him toward the front door of the cottage. The three of them stepped onto the porch, and stood there quietly for about five minutes. Neubarth considered crying out a warning to the young woman inside, but he knew that Rick and Corbett would deal harshly with him, and there was Rhadaman. He could imagine the intensity with which that demon would revenge himself if anyone attempted to foil his evil plans. He decided that his original analysis of the situation, of any situation that involved Rhadaman, was true. It was no use resisting. He remained silent.
Corbett tiptoed forward, very quietly opened the screen door, then turned the doorknob slowly and walked in. Rick and Neubarth followed immediately after him.
Rhadaman and Claudia Petrie were sitting on the divan, sipping steaming coffee from their cups. Claudia wore a heavy robe over a nightgown, and this was buttoned primly up to her throat. When she realized that others were in the room she jerked her head around, and stared open-mouthed at the trio. Her eyes passed quickly over their faces, and when she came to Neubarth's she caught her breath and her eyes grew wide.
"What on earth is this, Professor Neubarth?" she demanded.
Neubarth lowered his face and shook his head, and Rhadaman stood up and grinned down at Claudia.
"Use your artistic imagination, Claudia darling," said Rhadaman. "What do you think this is?"
"I'm sure I don't know," she said as she rose to her feet. "But if you all don't leave immediately, I shall be forced to call the police."
"Surely you jest, Claudia," Rhadaman said.
He walked over to the telephone, picked it up, and with a single quick movement, ripped it and its attached wires from the wall. "Now," he continued, "we've heard reports that you like girls, Claudia. Like them ever so much. Is that true?"
Her face colored. She yelled, "How dare you!" and raised her arm to strike Rhadaman. He clutched her by the wrist, twisted her arm behind her, and forced her down onto the floor. He spoke again, his voice as calm as ever. "No need to become violent, sweets. We mean you no harm."
"I'll ruin you at the college, Ted Rhadaman!" she said savagely from between lips that were clenched tightly with the pain of her twisted arm.
"Oh, my. A threat," he said mockingly. "Now perhaps we shall have to harm you, if only to teach you some manners." He released her arm and lifted her to her feet. "Now, suppose you lead us into your bedroom. And I do hope, for the sake of my tender sensibilities, that it is not filled with such loathsome things as dildoes, or phallusshaped vibrators." He shoved her away from him, and she immediately bolted for the darkened hallway, ran into a room, and slammed the door behind her. When they got up to the door, and found it locked, Rhadaman motioned Corbett, who was quite husky, forward.
While Rick held Neubarth firmly, the other young man drove his shoulder against the door. It gave at the first impact, shattering like balsa wood, and they all scrambled into Claudia's bedroom to see that she was frantically dialing a bedside phone. Rhadaman walked over to her, slapped her forcefully, and ripped the phone loose from its wires.
Now Rhadaman became very businesslike. "Help me tie her to the bed, Corbett!" he ordered, then picked up a sheet and ripped it into several wide strips, tossing several of them to his henchman when he had finished.
The young woman made another attempt to escape, but Corbett caught her up in his burly arms and threw her back onto the bed.
"You filthy punks!" Claudia yelled. Rhadaman responded by slapping her again, with more force than he had before, and then gripped her bathrobe and pulled it open with such vigor that its buttons popped up into the air. He yanked the garment away from her and threw it on the floor, then pulled her arm up next to the headboard and tied it to one of the bedposts, while Corbett did the same thing with her other arm. Then, as the girl writhed and screamed at them, they both walked down to the foot of the bed, and each of them gripped one of her ankles and tied it to a wooden post.
They both moved back to survey their handiwork. Claudia, clad now only in her diaphanous nightgown, continued to thmsh her trussed body energetically and scream insults at her tormentors. Presently she grew silent and stared at Rhadaman. Her eyes glowed with hate.
Rhadaman walked back beside her and sat down on the bed. He lowered his hand very slowly onto her silk-covered hip, and stroked it gently.
"I'm very curious about your body, Claudia," he said. "You look so nice in your clothes that I find myself most eager to see if you look as splendid, without them." He smiled at her and continued to stroke her hip and upper thigh. She spat at him, but the little meteor of liquid missed him as he moved his head to the side.
"I do hope you will pardon my forwardness," he continued in the same ironical tone. "But I'm particularly interested in your lovely breasts. They look so pert and well-formed beneath your clothing, and I was wondering if I might have just a little peak. I'm sure you won't mind."
"I'll put you in prison, you son-of-a-bitch!" she yelled.
"Tsk tsk, such language, Claudia." Rhadaman said as he moved his hand up the lightly veiled curves of her luxuriant body and touched her heaving breasts.
"Oh my, they do feel nice. Round and soft and all. Here, let's show them to my attentive friends." He pulled the delicate material down across her collarbone and exposed the soft foothills of her ample breasts. Then, still smiling cherubically at her, he ripped the front of the gown down to her stomach, and pulled the fabric back to expose her naked flesh. As she breathed deeply, her milk-white mounds jutted out, vibrating actively. Her nipple areas were huge. They spread over the summits of her breasts like the snow that caps mountains, except that they were plum-colored, and as the nipples themselves rose into erection, they, too, looked like ripe plums.
"Aren't they nice, gentlemen," said Rhadaman, looking back toward the wide-eyed trio. Rick licked his lips, and Neubarth felt sexual desire rise in him, too, even though he was still sickened by the goings-on.
"And such large areolas, Claudia," Rhadaman said as he returned his gaze to the young women, whose face was beet-red with rage and shame. "I find them most exciting." He began to work the meaty flesh of her breasts with his hands, fondling each of the nipples, which caused them to grow even more rigid. "But, unfortunately, we have very little time. So I fear I must cut short my explorations, and get directly to essentials."
He gripped the edge of the torn silk and ripped the nightgown away from her body in one rapid movement. Without pausing, he fastened his fingers around the waistband of her panties, tore them from her loins, and cast these, too, aside.
Her sex was completely hairless, though Neubarth could see as he looked that she actually had a full pubic bush, but had shaved it for some reason.
"My," said Rhadaman in mock horror, "this is an innovation. Tell me Claudia, do you shave it so as to allow your girl friends more ready access?"
"You pig! You filthy male pig!" she shouted at him, and arched her body in her struggles to get free. Her eyes still expressed great anger, but for the first time they showed a little fear too. "Okay. You guys have had your peepshow. Now if you untie me and leave this instant, I might be generous and not prefer charges against you. All right?" She whined this last question and Rhadaman chuckled softly in reply.
Rick, Corbett, and Neubarth all stared intently at the hairless mound of the woman's pudenda. With her legs drawn apart as they were, the outer lips of her sex were stretched back to either side, revealing the pink inner reaches of her vaginal channel. The three men could see the taut little button of Claudia's clitoris, and just below her gaping sexual grotto, the puckered anal opening. This yawning sexual display, topped by her nude mound of venus on which the shadow of her shaven pubic hair showed, caused Neubarth to grow very lustful. He felt his penis hardening into erection, and his lips, over which his tongue moved ceaselessly, grew wet. His hands dropped to his belt, and he had begun to unbuckle it when he heard Rhadaman's sardonic laugh.
"Now don't get too eager, Professor. I think we should let Corbett have the first shot at her."
Upon hearing this, Rhadaman's muscular friend yanked off his clothes and climbed up on the footboard of the bed. He crouched there for a moment, like a medieval gargoyle, and his penis stuck out from between his bent thighs like a fearsome weapon. Claudia ceased writhing against her bonds and looked up into his glittering eyes.
"No!" she screamed, and thrashed around even more violently in her efforts to escape. Her flesh quavered with her exertions, and her voluptuous body arched up into a delicious ivory bridge. Corbett leaped.
He landed between her widespread legs with his organ already halfway into the woman's pink cavern. He prodded a few times, then thrust mightily, and Claudia screamed like a banshee as he gained total entry. He began to pump away energetically, and Claudia's white body was shaken unmercifully by his violent strivings. Neubarth saw her eyes roll back in her head as though with shock, and then soon thereafter, Corbett was through. He climbed slowly from off the young woman's violated form, and Neubarth, far too possessed with his lust to wait any longer, ripped off his clothing, ran around to the side of the bed and took his place on Claudia's body. Her sexual opening, already lubricated by Corbett's discharge, received Neubarth's rigid staff easily. She did not reciprocate his motions as he pumped, but after a while, she began to moan and gasp loudly. Finally, just before Neubarth reached orgasm, she lifted her lower body up to meet his downthrusting penis with considerable gusto. After he had expired, and had slid off the bed, she continued to move her body spasmodically, now thoroughly awakened sexually. As Rick jumped on her to take his turn, Rhadaman spoke to Neubarth: "Well done, Professor. You got the young lady into the proper frame of mind."
When Rick had finished, Rhadaman waved his hand in a gesture that signified that he didn't want any. He remarked that she was probably far too soggy for him to find any enjoyment in the plundering of her body. Instead, he bent over the trussed young woman and spoke into her ear. "Your box doesn't look so sweet anymore, dear, but if your inclinations haven't been altered by this episode, then I'm sure that you'll be able to clean up enough to entertain your girl friends in the near future."
Neubarth looked down at the bound girl. Her distended sex was caked with male jism, and her breasts were bruised by their eager fingers. One immense nipple was imprinted with a bloody set of teeth marks. Neubarth wondered if he had bitten her there.
Presently she spoke through swollen lips. "You're all through, Rhadaman. You and the other are going to prison. You'll go to the gas chamber if I can arrange it." Her voice was low and infinitely menacing. As she finished the sentence, Neubarth heard something like an electrical crackle. He glanced at Rhadaman, as did Rick and Corbett, and saw that the young man's hair looked as though it were blazing. Spiraling sparks of livid color played in his eyes as he grinned down at Claudia and gave a short laugh.
"Is that right, Claudia, darling?" he asked matter-of-factly. He looked at his two cronies and at Neubarth.
"Well, I guess we're all through, fellas." He smiled even more largely. "Let's go."
Rick and Corbett clambered into their clothing, and after a little hesitation, Neubarth dressed also. When they were all three into their clothing, Rhadaman told them to go out to the car. The two young men turned on their heels and walked out the front door. Neubarth followed.
As they walked across the lawn towards the dark shape of the parked automobile, Neubarth's mind was filled with morbid thoughts. He realized that everything good was over, that Claudia Petrie would tell the school board of this evening, and that this would mean the end of his career. Thoughts of his family were no consolation. His wife had turned into a common slut, Farley seemed to be tending towards sexual libertinism, and his sons would undoubtedly find out about his depravity, and about the older man's relationship with Marnie, and would have nothing more to do with him. It was no use returning home and trying to make things right again, no use at all. Neubarth decided that he wouldn't go home at all. Never again. Everything was over, and he had nothing left. Nothing.
The three men sat in the car for several minutes. Finally they heard the front door of the cottage slam. They all looked up to see Rhadaman striding across the lawn, and behind him, through one of the cottage windows, flames were erupting into a wall of fire.
"I don't think we'll have to worry about Claudia reporting us now," he said after he had gotten into the car and had settled himself behind the wheel.
Neubarth, Rick, and Corbett looked back at the house where the molested young woman still lay bound to the bed. They continued to stare at the growing blaze as Rhadaman started the car and pulled away from the curb.
"She'll be roasted, Rhadaman! This is murder!" Rick said in a terrified voice.
"Yeah, I guess it could be called murder. But then, I doubt if anyone will be able to ascertain whether or not the fire was started deliberately," Rhadaman said in an icy, clinical tone. "But, if it will make you feel any better about the girl, she'll probably die of smoke inhalation before the flames reach her. So, in effect, the fire will perform a sort of homemade cremation for us. Most tidy, don't you think?"
He stopped at the corner stopsign, and looked back with admiring eyes at the now roaring blaze. Rick and Corbett took advantage of their temporary halt to jerk open the rear doors, jump out of the car, and begin running in opposite directions. Barely seeming to notice their hasty exit, Rhadaman uttered a short laugh, and then turned onto the town's main thoroughfare and drove slowly along it, like dozens of other evening drivers.
"Do you want to go home, Professor?" Rhadaman asked.
Rhadaman's words reached Neubarth's ears through a thickmental mist. He had slumped down in the car seat, and had succeeded in blocking all moralistic thoughts out of his mind. He thought no more about the recent fire, nor about his family. He instructed Rhadaman to drop him off downtown, not giving a thought to the fact that the car was his. Rhadaman nodded his head and drove steadily on. When they reached a sector of downtown area that was mostly given over to sleazy little bars and garishly illuminated missions, Neubarth asked Rhadaman to pull over. After he had gotten out of the car, Neubarth heard the young man tell him that he would be seeing him in the near future, then he stood and watched his own shining automobile intrude into the stream of traffic and slowly fade from his vision.
Neubarth walked into a small bar and bought a fifth of heavily fortified wine. Then he walked next door to a cheap flophouse, got an inexpensive room, and climbed painfully up many flights of stairs to the dirty cubicle that he had rented. He lay on the odorous bed and rhythmically tipped the bottle up to his mouth until it was almost empty, then, succumbing to the numbing influence of the syrupy liquor, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Neubarth spent the next week in much the same manner. After he woke up in the early afternoon, he went next door to the bar, bought a bottle of wine, then went down the street where the inhabitants of the district sat in a long row, against the wall of a deserted building. He sat with them, incessantly drinking from his bottle, and offering it occasionally to his companions. They talked, once in awhile, of such subjects as the women they had known in their younger days, and of the places they had visited via freight trains. As evening came on, Neubarth usually passed out, and lay in his befuddled state on the pavement. He woke up late at night, stumbled to his feet, and went back to his room, after stopping at the same bar to buy the same brand of wine.
One day, after Neubarth had spent seven or eight days observing the same unvarying sequence of pursuits, Rhadaman came to find him. The red-haired youth finally located Neubarth where he lay outstretched on the sidewalk. He got out of the car, and dragged the semiconscious Professor back to the vehicle. After they were underway, Rhadaman laughed and said, "It looks as though you've let yourself go a bit, Professor. You hardly appear the well-groomed academician that I knew only a week or so ago."
Neubarth heard what Rhadaman was saying, though he had to struggle to allow the young man's words to penetrate the morass of grayness that whirled in his brain. Neubarth's whiskers, many days along now, formed a short, dark beard. His clothing was rumpled, and stained by wine, vomit, and urine. He managed to mumblingly ask where they were going.
"Well, Professor," Rhadaman replied, "we're going to the house of a friend of mine. He lives several hundred miles away, on the coast. I thought that you might be just the cat to accompany me, seeing as you have a taste for perverse things. Right?"
Neubarth said nothing.
"You see, this guy has a sort of castle overlooking the ocean. And this castle is filled with young broads. You know, hung up in chains, and like that. This guy has the mind of a medieval torturer. We're going to be his guests for a while, and of course, we'll be invited to partake of his own rather singular pleasures. Sound interesting?"
Neubarth managed to nod his head. It didn't matter. Nothing did.
They drove on for two days, and after Neubarth's mind had cleared a little, he relieved Rhadaman behind the wheel from time to time. Neither of them talked much, but only devoted themselves to keeping the automobile moving on at a high speed. They reached the coast in the morning. At Rhadaman's instruction, Neubarth continued to drive along a narrow road that clung to the rocky coastline.
by this time, the former Professor's mind had cleared considerably. He began to feel the heavy, oppressive burden of guilt that he thought he had left behind in the skidrow slum. It came back with crushing impact. He recognized that one person, and one person only, was responsible for his descent into his present state of degradation. He looked over at the youth, whose fiery hair shone brightly in the morning sunlight and tossed in the wind. His eyes glimmered faintly, and a small, wholly wicked smile played across his lips. Neubarth saw that the road ahead curved sharply to the left. If one didn't turn, he thought, there would be a 500 foot plunge down the cliff and into the sea. He decided.
"I'm taking you to hell with me, you bastard!" he yelled, then slammed the accelerator to the floorboard.
"To hell, Professor?" said Rhadaman in his familiar controlled voice. "That will be 'old home week' for me. Didn't you know?"
Just as the car broke through the wooden barrier, Neubarth's face jerked towards Rhadaman. His eyes bulged as he recognized who and what the youth was. The automobile careened over the cliff, and tumbled end over end down to the water, bursting into flames in the process. As the waves washed in over the blazing wreck, Rhadaman's evil laughter still boomed out over the glistening face of the conquering sea.
