Don Haywood snapped the valise shut and locked it. He stepped back and looked around his small, academic office. He felt as if he were saying good-bye to an old and trusted friend.
The book-lined walls reminded him of all his years at Blair State College; those undergraduate years, the years he labored for his degrees, and those gratifying years as an associate professor of classical languages. And now he was leaving it all. Leaving it for the unknown chore of representing his college to the high school graduates of the country. He felt a chill of apprehension run down his spine. Don did not like the unknown. He went to it only because it was his duty. But even duty now had a sexual connotation.
After he had made a complete circle of the room with his eyes, Don walked to the large windows that looked over the huge expanse of the campus. It had grown dark and the black, old English type street lights beamed their yellow glow over the walks. Students, alone, in groups, and by the couple, were making their way along the walks, having quitted the late laboratory classes. Don looked at the young people and felt lonely. He felt far removed from them, yet he knew the flutter of kinship and he reminded himself once again that he was a young man, only thirty, with much of his youthful life still ahead of him. And then, as had been the pattern lately, he thought of wild, uninhibited fucking. And he thought of it in seldom-used terms that had always been taboo. Don started to turn from the window, then stopped. The bounce of young bodies had detained him. Several young girls were hurrying down the closest walk and Don stared at them. He could not keep from watching the jiggle of their tits, the bounce of their juicy asses, and the quick sway of their young bodies as they hurried across the campus. And as he watched them move, he felt the very definite and strong response of his emotions for them. He wished that he did not. He tried to deny the quick surge of desire that rocked him. But he could not. It was as if he had been captured by the sight of them and could not free himself until they were gone. Finally, with great effort, and creating the picture of a man tearing himself from some evil image, he turned from the window. Then he felt the shiver of apprehension again. Lately, it had been like an unhappy friend, coming to him often to spread evil and temptation. For a few moments, Don thought about it, wondering why he should suddenly be taken with all the youthful bodies about him. It had never happened before. He hated the impulses he felt, yet he could not subdue them. Soon, he forced himself to a glimmer of hope. He would be leaving Wayne, would soon be away from all the delightful college girls. He would be with those of much younger years, the high school girls and boys who desired admission to Wayne. It was good, Don decided, that a change had come to his work, that the routine of years was to be broken by travel and new environments. Perhaps, away from Blair for a spell, he would know a lessening of the strange desires that growled within him.
Don turned from the window, checked his desk once more and saw that it was empty. Looked at his luggage which was neatly stacked in a comer of the room, then turned from these exciting signs of travel and adventure and headed out of the office. Just as he reached his hand out to turn the knob of his office door, it burst open.
Don recoiled as if he had been hit. But he smiled quickly and sighed in relief when he saw that his caller was Cass Bigelow, the new college counselor who was to be his partner among the applicant-bushes of the nation's high schools.
"Hi," she said pleasantly. "All packed?"
"I think so," Don answered, unable, as he spoke, to keep his eyes from a quick sweep of the young woman's body. And Cass's body was something very sweet to sweep, Don decided as he saw her large tits puff out from a simple, white blouse, as he noticed the flare of good hips that descended to firm thighs and shapely legs like the gradual and dramatic sweep of sand dunes to a hot, flat beach.
"I've been ready for days," she said. "I can't wait. It's going to be so exciting."
"It is?" he questioned dumbly.
"Of course," she answered. "We'll see all this country, we'll interview all those great kids who want to go to Wayne, we'll get the feel of small towns and big cities-of course it'll be exciting."
Don laughed, then said, "I wasn't thinking of it along those lines. You do make it sound exciting."
"It could be even more so," she said, laughing. She stepped closer and let the door click shut behind her. Then she said, "I had a little talk with the Dean this afternoon. We went over expense items."
"You did?"
"Yip," she giggled like a schoolgirl. "I thought he was about to suggest that we share a room for the tour in order to cut down on expenses."
"Oh, really now," Don said, flushing.
"Don't look so shocked," Cass said. "I thought you were the one member of the faculty who would do anything for good old Blair State."
"Well, I-of course, I-."
"Stop stammering like a freshman," she said. "I'm only joking." She paused, then added, "For now, that is."
"Oh, really now," Don said again.
Cass grinned impishly, obviously enjoying Don's embarrassment. Her smile was not that of a college counselor. It was too theatrical and sensual for that. Her mouth was wide and very red, and it seemed to lighten the glint of her blonde hair. It seemed too, an inducement for one to look at the rest of her body which, very unacademic-like, shouted sexuality in a tone as loud as that used for any Homecoming Queen.
"You know," Cass said, "I've been trying to figure you out ever since I came to Blair last September. Here it is April, and I haven't got you classified yet."
"That's the trouble with you biologists," Don said. "Always trying to make classifications."
"It's a handy practice, my friend. Proper, initial classification saves time."
"But you haven't made it with me, eh?" Don asked.
"Not yet, but I intend to before our tour is over."
"Oh, you do, eh?"
"I'm dedicated to it," she said, stepping another baby-step nearer Don. She raised her hand to his chest which was a good, manly chest, wide and hard above slim hips and a narrow waist. Then she said, "As an example, I'm curious about you and women. Do you like them? If you don't now, have you ever? Why do you try to avoid me at every turn? Why did you tell the Dean that you didn't think I was the one to represent Blair with the high school graduates. Why?"
"Oh, you know about that, eh?" Don said, flushing a deeper pink.
"Of course I do, and I'm not the least bit angry about it."
"You're not?"
"No. You see, I know that you were prompted to reject me as part of your defense mechanism. You've been afraid to have me around because you're so attracted to me."
"That's the way you have it figured," he said, laughing a bit, doing this in order to prevent a deepening of the flush at his neck and cheeks.
"Uh huh. Isn't it the truth?"
"Oh, my word," Don exclaimed. "You people in biology and psychology are always-looking for hidden motivations. It's a wonder you ever make any sense at all."
"But we do," she replied. "As much, I must say, as the classical linguists make out of Latin and Greek-especially the way they translate the early plays and their meaning."
"Touche," Don laughed. "Don't dig the saber any deeper."
Cass laughed too and it was like the light, foamy lift of a swirling wave: young, carefree, wild and uninhibited.
Cass glanced at his luggage, then she turned to him and said, "Look, it's early and we don't have to catch the plane until late. Why don't you come to my place for cocktails and dinner-I'll grill you a steak."
"Well, that's very nice," Don responded quickly. "It really is, and I would enjoy it, but I have a thousand things to do at the apartment before I retire."
For a moment, Cass frowned, but then it disappeared and she said, "All right then, how about me coming to your place and fixing you drinks and dinner while you work?"
Don looked into her blue-green eyes, then glanced away. "I'm sorry, it would distract me."
"You're so honest you're damn near rude," she said, anger sharpening her words.
"I'm sorry."
"The hell you are," she said, her voice rising.
"Shhhh," he said, looking around as if they were being observed.
"I don't 'shhh'," she replied.
"Well then, just forgive me and try to understand-just this once," he said, looking at her again.
"I would if it was the first time," she said. "But you've been dodging me for months. It's as if I-as if I had the plague or something."
"You haven't, I assure you," he said softly, sighing as if he regretted those conservative things within himself that prevented him from the naturalness with women that he truly desired.
Cass turned and moved to the door. She opened it. Then she said, "All right, Don Haywood, A.B., M.A., Ph.D., and all the formal jazz that seems to mean more to you than a good time. But remember, I'm not taking this as a rejection-only as a lull. I'll see you at the plane, baby, then we can buzz off together."
"Shhhhh," Don said again, looking at the open door and the long corridor behind it.
Cass laughed, then said, "I wonder what it's going to be like when you stop 'shhhhhhing' and start doing."
Don made no reply. He merely stood there as she smiled again, then turned and closed the door behind her.
He remained very still for a long time, maintaining the woman-scent of Cass Bigelow in his nostrils, still visualizing her exquisite, un-scholar-like body, remembering her laugh and the high lift of her breasts. Silently, he cursed himself and told himself that he was a prude, that he should have done what he wanted, not what caution dictated, and he had a flashing thought of himself at ease, with a cocktail in his hand, sitting close to Cass on a couch in her small, intimate apartment. And for some remarkable, unconscious reason, the vocabulary in his mind changed, and turned obscene.
He could see the swell of her tits as they pressed against the sheer fabric of her evening dress. Cass had a smile on her face, but she was not smiling at Don.
Cass stood up, put her drink on the coffee table and pulled her dress off over head. In his mind, Don could see himself sitting on the sofa, sipping his drink, watching Cass. She smiled down on him and motioned for him to take his clothing off. He shook his head and continued to enjoy the full expanse of her lush, excited body.
Her only clothing now were her panties, the sheer brief bikini type, and a small bra.
She whisked those off in a moment and then stood nude in front of Don. He remained on the sofa, his tongue snaking out to moisten his lips as he saw the full beauty of Cass's fantastically sexual body. He yearned to fuck her more than anything in the world. He could feel his prick, hard and stiffened, trying to snap through the material that bound it. Cass was smiling at him, inviting him between her spread legs. "Come suck my cunt, Don-do it for Blair State!"
He rushed to her and fell to his knees, pushing his face into her cunt and probing and gouging with his tongue. She had a sweet-tasting cunt and he rolled his face and twisted his tongue and had her holding his head and goading him, pushing him onwards.
Something brought Don back to reality.
Then Don rejected the mental images, and the fantasies he had created, picked up his valise and walked out of the office without glancing back.
He moved slowly down the walk that led to the faculty parking lot. He breathed deeply, enjoying the soft caress of the early Spring night as the fresh air rushed to fill his lungs. It was a good feeling. A young feeling. One that he knew well but was without precedent for youthfulness. His early years had known many such nights, but they had not been made for his enjoyment, instead they had been a part of the hard toil he endured in order to attain those things he wanted: a secure position at the college he had attended, the one in which he believed and loved to serve.
A boy and a girl, their arms entwined, slowly strolled in front of Don at an intersecting path. He felt a thump of excitement. He observed the girl and saw that the boy's hand completely circled her waist and cupped at her breast. He wondered what the boy must be feeling, what he must be anticipating. And he wondered how the girl's breast felt beneath the boy's hand; if it quivered, if the nipples had enlarged, if she matched the boy's anticipation for aloneness and carresses.
Don quickened his step down the path.
At the parking lot, Don paused. Here, there were no lights and he strained his eyes to locate his car at the end of the lot. He wondered why he did not remember leaving it there, then thought how lately he had been absent-minded, had forgotten many things. He wondered what caused this within him.
Don moved forward down the narrow path that separated the rows of cars. From some he heard the soft noises of lovemaking and he reminded himself again that he must mention at the next faculty meeting that many students were using faculty cars as the setting for their indiscretions. Then he had a new thought. He recalled that he had been ready to present this information at the last several meetings, yet he had always refrained from this disclosure. Why? Was he protecting innocence, he asked himself. Why did he always hesitate to talk of the sexual side of students? Why? Why?
At his car, Don breathed deeply, lifted the valise to the crook of his arm, then turned the handle and pulled open the door of the dark, conservative sedan.
He tossed his valise to the far seat. Then he crawled into the car, pulled the door shut behind him and adjusted his position behind the steering wheel. He was reaching the key into the ignition when he heard the sound behind him. He paused. Then, certain that his ears had deceived him, he inserted the key and started to turn it when once more he heard the soft, muffled sound of feminine breathing. He turned and looked into the back seat.
His first impulse was to yell out in shock. But the small auburn haired girl looked so sweet and so comfortable curled and sleeping in the back seat of his car, that he quieted his shock and stared unabashedly at her young body.
The girl looked to be about sixteen. She wore the simple, but revealing outfit of a high school girl. Her hair was auburn and even without seeing them Don knew that her eyes would be large and brown. Her short skirt had crept high to her thighs, revealing the long white of her bare legs. She had kicked off shoes and her toes were curled like those of a cat, ready for attack even in sleep. But it was the posture of the girl's breasts which most intrigued Don. Her blouse was open at the throat and her bare breasts bulged outward and rested sideways on the car seat. They seemed cuddled on her side. Don looked closer and was very sure that the girl did not wear a bra. As his eyes adjusted to the delightful sight of her, he knew definitely that she was without the encumbrance of underclothing for her nipples were fully revealed to him. They were erect and hard-looking, and Don wondered what dreams she entertained to make them this way. One knee was bent high to the bottom of her breasts, causing one round, perfectly moulded buttock to jut sassily. He longed to suck her cunt, lick her tits, plunge his cock madly into her sweet ass.
Don had hardly breathed since discovering the girl. But lack of this necessary function did not in any way impede his reaction to the lovely stranger. His chest clogged with desire-he admitted quickly that this is what it was. His hands felt moist. There was a noticeable quiver at his finger tips, and this told him that his face had creased with lines, that his dark brown eyes had darkened even more. Quickly, he brushed at his close-cropped hair in a gesture of nervousness. Then he leaned further across the back of the seat. He extended his right hand outward, ready to touch the girl, to awaken her gently and without fright, but it proved unnecessary.
The girl's big eyes blinked. Then they opened wide. A slight smile tugged at the comers of her full, red mouth. Then, like a sleepy cat, she stretched in a way that made all of her body curl tightly, then release like a spring, quivering her breasts, moving her bare legs, squeezing her waist and thighs.
"Hi, Professor Haywood," the girl said in a sleepy, deeply sensual voice. "Man, were you ever a long time coming."
"I beg you pardon?" Don said, pushing away from her.
The girl scooted her body to an upright position. Although her skirt momentarily covered her legs, it hiked high again when she settled her rear into the seat. She made no move to cover the several inches of bare thigh that was fully exposed to his view. Nor did she made any move to close the open bodice of her blouse. Her naked tits continued to bulge from the garment. Her nipples continued to puff audaciously at Don.
"This is very irregular," Don said, then stopped, then tried again by saying," 'Perhaps you're in the wrong car. Perhaps you were waiting for someone else?"
"Uh, uh, Prof, it's you I'm waiting for."
"Really?"
The girl giggled and pushed forward. She hung her arms and chin on the back seat, staring at Clark. "You're cute-much more handsome than I thought a professor could be."
"Look here now," Don said, making his voice stern. "I resent this intrusion, young lady. And I resent you acting as if it's perfectly normal-that; it's right that you should steal into my car, lie low, wait for me, then-then-."
"Relax, Prof," the girl said. "I came a long ways to see you. I tried reaching you through the switchboard but they wouldn't put me through."
"No, of course not. I wasn't accepting calls today."
"I know. So, I found a real nice boy who pointed your car out to me and I decided to curl up and wait until you showed." Don eyed her pink nipples and felt his mouth go dry.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Lisa Dewey."
"And where are you from, Miss Dewey?"
"From Benton, and please call me Lisa like all my teachers do."
"Benton? Good heavens, that's two hundred miles from here."
"I know it. Believe me, after hitching rides and fighting off truck drivers, I know it's two hundred miles. But I'm here and I have to talk to you Professor."
"You're doing just that," he said.
"I mean talk to you about Blair State admitting me in the autumn."
"This is hardly the place to discuss your application," Don said.
"I think it's exactly the place to discuss it."
Lisa smiled, then in a quick motion, one that told of her agility and strength, she hoisted herself over the seat, kicked his valise to the floor, and landed next to him. Her skirt-that magical skirt-remained high above her thighs. Her blouse-that sweet, innocent blouse-remained open and her breasts introduced themselves more fully to Don.
Lisa twisted in her seat and smiled at Don. Then she said, "Look, Professor, I know this is unorthodox, that I should wait until you come to Benton High to discuss my application for Blair. But I can't wait. I can't stand it any longer. I just have to be accepted by Blair. I'll die if I'm not."
Don felt a glow of pride for the college of his heart. He felt, as he always felt when a youngster showed interest in Blair State, the value and soundness of his school's traditions. Thinking of it, being reminded of it again, softened his voice.
"Well, I can certainly understand your interest in Blair," he said. "But it really wasn't necessary to come here to see me. Benton High is on our schedule and Miss Bigelow and I will be interviewing as many students as there are who show interest in Blair. So, why don't you just run along now. I'll be interviewing you soon."
She scooted closer to him, then said, "But I can't wait. I can't. I'm in the upper one per cent of my senior class and I've been in all sorts of activities and I just have to know that Blair will accept me."
"What about personality traits and character?" he asked, falling easily into the pattern of interviewing despite the strange setting.
"That's what worrying me," Lisa said. "I've been in a few capers."
"Capers?"
"Boys mostly. Getting caught with them, you know. In the physics lab once, a couple of times under the stadium bleachers, in cars-."
"Cars? Like this? My word!"
"Just like this, Professor," she said, moving closer so that her bare breasts brushed lightly against his forearm. His cock strained against his clothing.
Don wanted to move away from the girl's closeness. But he could not. The feel of her skin was so delightful, so warm, so promising, so, so different from anything he remembered ever feeling, that he even bumped his arm forward a bit in order to feel the greater cuddling of her against him. And as he felt the hot imprint her nipple made on his arm, that seared right through clothing to his flesh, Don had a flashing thought of Cass Bigelow, thought of her and her gay, carefree manner, and he felt the greatest impulse to join it, to learn from it, to partake of every exciting thing that might be offered him. And the exciting offering of young-girl-flesh cuddled harder against him as Lisa readjusted her position so that one bare thigh could come in contact with his leg.
She raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder. He did not bolt away from her fingers that touched him lightly, then gently kneaded. Nor did he shift his leg from her pressing thigh.
"You don't think little things like that will keep me out of Blair, do you?" she asked.
"Well, I don't know," he told her. "We're very fussy about our applicants."
"But you are the one who recommends students, aren't you, Professor?"
"Yes, that is my responsibility. A very great responsibility, I might add."
"And Blair is a very liberal school," Lisa offered.
Don't twist it, child," Don said sternly. "Blair is a liberal arts school."
Lisa twisted again. She turned her shoulders so that her breasts pointed directly at his chest. As she moved, her flesh rubbed hard against his arm. She squirmed her legs forward a bit and before Don knew what was happening, he felt her thighs on either side of his right knee. It was an engrossing position, he thought. He wondered how the girl could so quickly have attained it with a stranger, even a stranger who was the representative of an old and sedate college.
Don did not speak as he felt her thighs close a bit, imprisoning his knee. And he ceased breathing again when quite without self-consciousness, the girl reached her hand from his shoulder, trailed it down his chest, patted briefly at his stomach, then lowered it still more.
"Look," she said, "I'll do anything to get into Blair. Now how about it, can we make a deal?"
For a moment Don merely listened to her voice, the way it had changed, had grown crusty and hard and definite. It intrigued him. He wondered what it was that brought that change in her.
Don blinked. And it was in that brief moment that he forgot responsibility, tradition, all of the things of his life except those that he had missed, those things that were suddenly available to him in the young person of Lisa Dewey.
He turned toward the girl as she crushed herself against him.
Don felt very inept, but he was in the grips of a fuck passion that was totally uncontrollable. He knew that what he was going to do was stupid and risky, but he had to fuck the sweet, tender body of Lisa Dewey. He wanted to fuck her until her tiny teenage pussy was screaming with the burden of accepting his prick-he wanted to fuck her until the little girl's face rolled to his and asked for mercy from his pounding, savage cock. Don wanted it all.
She twisted under him and reached for his crotch, but Don knocked her hand away and fished his prick out. "Suck it, girl," he said, and she fell eagerly to the task. Her slurping, dripping mouth was an erotic scene for Don, and he held her head in his hands and pumped his cock in and out, in and out. He told her to go down on it and swallow it into her throat or he'd stick it there, and she did. She swallowed it all and squeezed his prick with her throat muscles, and when he told her he was going to come in her mouth she tried to move away, but he held her head and shot spurt after spurt into her waiting mouth.
But Don wasn't through with Lisa. He told her to sit up and pull her dress up, which she did, showing him the sweetest pussy he'd ever seen in his life. He bent over and gently began to suck on the opening of her split and she sighed and allowed her legs to fall open.
He wanted to suck her as hard as he could, drain her of all her love gunk and make her know that he was a man. He sucked and swallowed greedily for over ten minutes, and Lisa was running her fingers through his hair and pushing that sweet cunt up at him and coming about once a minute.
Then he told her to get into the comer of the car because he wanted to fuck her. Lisa looked at him with a strange light in her eyes, almost saying that it was impossible for a professor to act this way. Don caught the look and realized that for the first time in his life he was giving vent to the emotions and the urges that he'd been carrying around for years.
She got into the position that he ordered and then he slid his giant, twisted prick deep into her tight, juicy cunt. Lisa liked that-she always had. Anytime a boy wanted to stick his prick into her cunt she was more than willing. It gave her a feeling of power to know that all the men in the world would want to stick their pricks in her sweet cunt. The professor certainly did, she knew that.
Don pumped and pumped and he delighted in the feel of the teenage pussy under him. Never had he introduced his cock into a cunt as tight or warm or juicy-it was like a machine that milked cocks, and when you combined that with the biggest, loveliest set of sucking tits he'd ever seen and a baby face that he'd just sunk his cock into a few minutes earlier, it was easy to see what he was so excited about.
He came just then, and so did she. Then there was the embarrassment of adjusting clothing and Lisa's chatter as Don drove her to the bus station. And then there were good-byes.
"Good-bye, darling," the girl said as she moved out of the car. "I'll see you when you get to Benton."
"Yes, I'll see you then," he answered slowly.
She threw him a kiss, then disappeared into the bus depot.
Don smiled. He felt very young and competent. And although he knew that he had committed an indiscretion that would no doubt have horrible consequences, he could not consider it too long, for the warmth and love that the sixteen-year-old girl had given him was still felt at every part of his body.
For once in his life, Don knew the taste of a young girl's cunt in his mouth.
CHAPTER TWO
It was very difficult for Lisa Dewey to keep her mind on what she was doing. And what she was doing was making love-at least beginning to-with Dan Marks, captain of the high school football team. Many things distracted her from Dan's tongue which searched within her mouth; from his hands, one of which had found her pussy while the other gripped and fondled her breast which he had exposed from her simple schoolgirl blouse.
Her mind was cluttered with distractions. She kept thinking of her encounter with Professor Haywood a few days earlier. She really bubbled when she thought about it. She had been very excited, and she had been unable to determine if it was because of the man himself, or because he was the answer to her entree to a Blair State education. And then there were realistic distractions, too. There were her girl friends, Joan and Inez, who were about to do something unusual only a dozen paces away. And then there was the other boy, Dick, who was half-undressed and had his big prick stiff and exposed while watching Joan and Inez as they skimmed their clothes from their young bodies. And on top of it all, Lisa had the distraction of the setting which was the basement recreation room of her own home, a setting that might at any time be disrupted by the appearance of her parents.
Lisa released the sucking pull her lips had been making on Dan's tongue. She turned her head to the side.
"Hey, what the hell's the matter with you anyway?" Dan asked, straightening from the prone position he had obtained on the couch next to her.
"I've got a lot on my mind. I told you that when you started trying for a fuck."
He straightened. Slowly, he withdrew both his hands, the one at her pussy and the other which clutched her tits. "You sure as hell must be doing a lot of thinking. Hell, you act like you're a thousand miles away."
"No, only a couple of hundred," she said. She pushed to a sitting position. She glanced at her breasts, fully exposed from her blouse. She made no move to conceal them.
"Yeah, I know, you got Blair State on your mind again. What the hell, I thought you said you were all set, that all of us could count on being accepted by Blair."
"I did say that," she answered.
"Well, what the devil, don't you really believe it? You went to Blair, you saw this old prof. If you made that contact there shouldn't be anything to worry about."
"I made the contact all right," she said. "But I only-." She stopped and giggled girlishly.
"What the devil-."
"I was just thinking, all I really did was lay the foundation for my admission, just laid the foundation for all of us to get accepted when Professor Haywood comes to Benton to interview us."
"And that's something to giggle about?"
"It sure is," she said, starting to giggle again.
His face took on lines of concern. Then he said, "Hell, maybe if you didn't make out so well we should all go up and see this prof jerk before he gets here."
"No, like I told you before, just leave it all to me. To me and those of you I might need once Professor Haywood gets here."
"You make it sound awful damn mysterious."
"It is," she said. "And very exciting, too."
"Hey, what's all the noise from you two," Dick called to them. "How you kids can carry on a conversation when Joan and Inez are getting ready to try something different is more than I can understand."
"We'll be quiet-maybe," Lisa said. She perched further on the edge of the couch and looked at her girl friends.
Joan had very black hair. She was quite small, perhaps only an inch or so above five feet. But her body was shapely. Even Lisa admitted this as Joan raised from dismissing the last of her clothing. Joan, who was only sixteen, had small tits, but they were compact and erect and the nipples blazed pink and hard. And her stomach was very flat.
Lisa shifted her gaze to Inez, also sixteen and shapely, but taller and built large with heavy hanging breasts which were absent of the sign of nipples unless one looked closely. Only then could the small indented nuggets be clearly discerened. But her stomach, too, was flat and erotic looking. And her hips, although heavier than those of most girls her age, were smooth and firm and flowed into good, solid legs. But her coloring seemed off, Lisa decided as she looked at her. Inez was blonde and this made her seem big and dumb, where Lisa was sure she would be much more attractive if her hair had been dark.
"All right, you kids ready, eh?" Dick asked them.
"I think this is silly," Joan said.
"Me, too," Inez concurred.
"You won't think it's silly in a few minutes," Dick assured them.
"But I don't like girls. I like boys," Joan insisted.
"Just wait," Dick told her. "What the devil, don't you pay attention to your psychology lessons. There's sexual love for everyone, all sexes together, all the time, always has been that way. Don't you know, it's a fucking good world?"
"You're stupid," Joan said.
"Yes, a real drip," Inez agreed.
"Well, come on, get cookin'-or cockin'." Dan called from the couch.
Joan turned toward Lisa, then said, "You've been awful quiet tonight. Are you sure we're all set for Blair State?"
"Not sure, but very confident," Lisa answered. "And, if we do everything just right when Professor Haywood and his associate get here, we'll make out just fine."
"And what little trick is it we have to do this time?" Inez asked. "Man, you kids are always hustling some way. First it's the football coach so good old Don gets to be captain of the team. Then it's that physics teacher so he won't snitch on you, but he snitched anyway. And now you're hustling some drippy college professor."
"You want to go to Blair, don't you?" Lisa asked.
"Sure. I've got to go. If I don't make it my old man will cut my allowance down to zero."
"And with your grades you're not going to make it without help from this little club. Then, when we all get to Blair, it'll be smooth-we'll run that place just like we do Benton."
"Man, are you ever ambitious," Dick said.
"You sure like to run things."
"Manipulate, is a better word," Lisa said. "Now come on, what are you going to do, stand around without your clothes all night?"
"No," Dick said, "Come on girls, let's get closer to the audience."
The three of them, Joan, Inez and Dick, moved to where Lisa and Dan sat together on the couch. Lisa thought how funny they really looked as they walked toward her. Both Joan and Inez seemed very conscious of their nakedness, although she could tell they sought to conceal it. The breasts of both girls jiggled slightly as they walked, and there was an awkwardness to the sway of their hips much as if nudity caused them to subdue the natural, gliding motion that was a part or them. And Lisa thought that Dick looked very silly. He wore only jeans and his bare feet seemed very large. But he seemed proud of that nakedness of him which showed. He appeared to deliberately puff his chest out in order to display its hardness and the smallness of his waist. And, Lisa had to admit that Dick's hips were very narrow, practically nonexistent. She smiled to herself when she thought how Dick was the entertainer of their large high school group, how he was always the one to think of something different for them to do, something daring and unusual to add spice to their already very spicy life.
"Man, I can't stand all this flesh," Dan suddenly groaned. He circled his arm around Lisa's waist and cupped one breast in his hand.
Lisa shivered delightedly, but it came less from his touch than it did from the knowledge that he was hers to control, to maneuver in any way that she wanted. She felt his fingers playing with her nipple and she remembered how the crowds yelled when he took a football in those same quarterback fingers and fired it far down the field. And it was this that made her shiver in delight for Dan's attention. And it was Dan who most concerned her. His scholastic record was shakey. Blair State seemed a long way away, yet Lisa knew that he had to attend that school. At Blair, with her in attendance, he would continue to follow her like a puppy dog. And he was sure to be a Blair athletic leader. It was this that she wanted for herself, the fame and notoriety of Dan in attendance to her. She just had to get Dan admitted to Blair. And she would, she vowed to herself as she thought again of Don Haywood, at how funny and stern he was, yet how he was so much better looking than she had expected.
"AH right, kiddies," Dick announced. "You two gals can start any time now."
"Start what?" Inez asked, hooking her hands on her hips.
"Hell, you know-making out."
"Us two?" Joan asked, her eyes going wide in surprise.
"Sure, gals do it all the time. Especially when there aren't any guys around."
"And when does that ever happen?" Joan declared.
"Well, you never can tell," Dick said. "Besides, some of the gals have told me they get a better bang out of it than with guys."
"That'll be the day," Lisa giggled from the couch.
Joan looked around, then said, "This is silly. How do we do it?"
"Be natural, babies, just natural," Dick told them.
"Start with kisses," Lisa advised.
"Yeah, smooch like all get out," Dan added.
The two naked girls stepped away from the others a bit. They paused on a white, bear rug that centered the recreation room floor. They faced each other. And, strangely, as if they had only now become aware of the other's bareness, the eyes of each roamed the body of the other. Their eyes alerted and began to roam lavishly. They became interested as it seemed that each saw the reflection of herself in the naked body of the other. At the same time, as if by secret signal, the girls stepped toward each other. Joan reached out and nipped at her breast. Then Inez did the same to Joan. Then they embraced and finally, amid the sound of sighs from those who watched, they kissed.
Lisa felt Dan's hand tighten on her bare tit. She felt her own heart's pace quicken. And for the first time that evening she felt a genuine quiver of desire at her thighs.
Joan and Inez increased the intensity of their kiss. Lisa could see their lips lessen their hold to make room for their tongues to shoot from one to the other, then back again. And their female hands roamed female bodies, touched at breasts and buttocks, at the back, the shoulders, and at the rounded stomachs which smashed together and parted.
"Oh, kids, you learn fast," Dick panted.
The girls broke their kiss and stepped back a pace. Then Joan lowered herself to the white, bear rug. In a flash, Inez was beside her. They embraced again, stretching long together while their hands clutched and touched. Soon, Inez became the aggressor. She pushed Joan flat on her back then hunched over her. She kissed madly at her breasts. And Joan aided her friend's hungry mouth. She wound her fingers into her hair and moved her head from side to side, encouraging her attention to each of her small, sparking breasts.
Lisa clutched Dan's hand and pressed it tighter against her tit as she watched Inez lower the deluge of her kisses, as she moved from breasts to ribs to small, round stomach where she lingered in a way that made Joan cry out in pleasure. Joan wanted Inez's mouth on her sopping cunt, and they all knew it.
For a few minutes, Lisa had the feeling of being left out of things. She was always the leader, the manipulator, the one who was the center of attraction. But Inez and Joan, their bare bodies entwined, somehow seemed to threaten her that exalted position. And she felt that it would be a disaster should that happen. Yet, she continued to watch, fascinated, as her kisses descended even lower on the now churning body of Joan.
Lisa glanced upward at Dan. His eyes glistened. She could feel the increased breathing he suffered as his big chest rose and fell. And his look made her feel disturbed and angry as she again experienced the feeling of being forgotten or reduced in social stature.
Inez and Joan increased the fury of their love. They burrowed and mumbled words of love. They searched and found within each other secret places of sensation that had been forever hidden, only now discovered, only now working to soar them higher in feeling than they had ever been. Their bodies trembled and strained. Their legs wrapped around each other's head and snuggled closer to that which they were receiving. Their breasts had bloated and grown hot-looking, and Inez, for the first time, displayed nipples that protruded from their creamy moulds, that stood erect and proud and very, very passionate.
Lisa watched for another second. Then she could stand it no longer. She had to subdue her feeling of being left out, ignored, forgotten and uncared for by the others. She pressured Dan's hand tighter to her breast. She turned her face to him and at the same time reached her left hand out to his thighs.
"Fuck me, Dan" she whispered. "Wait," he said, not looking at her but staring straight ahead at the lesbian love-making of Joan and Inez.
She jerked hard upon him and said, "No, I won't wait. I want you right now. Fuck me now!"
"While this is going on?" he asked glancing at her.
"Yes. Right now."
"You're crazy."
"Yes, crazy. Real crazy."
Lisa, as if she were going on stage to upstage everyone else, jumped up and facing Dan stripped the clothing from her body.
"Hey, you're frantic," he said.
"Yes, frantic for you," she answered.
Lisa hurried the clothes from her body, then when she was nude, she presented herself in front of Dan, stretching on her toes, raising her arms high above her head. Her pose left no doubt that she wished to hog the limelight from Inez and Joan who were now moaning fiercely and thrashing harder to each other.
"Man, I've never seen you like this before," he breathed, edging closer to her. His eyes stared at her clammy cunt.
Dan had now given up all interest in lesbianism and moved to the edge of the couch. He tore at his shirt and opened it to expose his hard chest. But when he moved to loosen his belt in order to attain total nudity, Lisa detained him.
"No, darling, don't bother," she said. "I can't wait that long."
She crushed against him. Her force was such as to send him to his back upon the couch. Lisa fought atop him until she found his mouth. She felt the grip of his hands at her buttocks and back at the same time that his mouth opened to receive her darting tongue. And as he took it unto himself, Lisa lowered onto him.
Dan moaned. Lisa moaned again too, longer and mournfully from his mouth to hers, passing the sound through teeth and tongue until it was transferred from one to the other.
But Lisa became impatient with kisses, with fondling and moaning. She jerked her mouth away from Dan's. She pushed upright above him and fastened her knees to each side of his hips. Then, quickly and desperately, she adjusted him to herself as she raised. She remained high and poised for a moment. She glanced at Dick who still had no interest in her, who continued to stare at Inez and Joan. Then she looked at Joan and Inez. For a moment, it was difficult for Lisa to separate the two, decide who was whom, for the girls were wrapped together as their heads moved at opposite ends of each other's body. When she finally did make proper identification, she no longer cared.
Dan raised his hands to her hips and helped with the adjustment that would join them. And then it was made. Lisa moved a bit higher, then plunged down on his throbbing prick.
Dan made no cry. He only breathed hard and pinched his fingernails into her buttocks as he aided her crashing descent upon him, then aided her rise. He could feel her cunt muscles milking him.
Her journey was a short one. She strained against him, bounded upward, crashed down upon him again and again. And all the time her breasts bounced, her thighs quivered, her stomach undulated, and her hair flew wildly about her shoulders, giving her a pagan look.
Dan was active, too. He thrust upward, reclined, then moved upward again and again to meet the attack Lisa imposed upon him. And his hands dug into her flesh giving the sign of his mounting passion. She shivered. Her nipples even seemed to elongate. And her navel winked. And her thighs continued to quiver as she moved tighter and tighter to him.
At last the bubbles of desire had gathered and were ready for coming. Lisa felt it in every part of her body. She felt the new tautness at her breasts, the tight stammer of her stomach muscles, and she felt it shoot from her thighs throughout all of her body. She felt it in the hot flush that came to her neck and cheeks. She felt it in the bubbly saliva that gathered at the comers of her mouth. And she felt it when she looked at Dan and saw his half-closed eyes as he ground and pounded up and down in the quick joining fuck-motion he had so quickly adapted to her rhythm.
When Lisa knew that the end was to come, that she would soon be erupted with feeling, she glanced at the other teenagers in the room. It was as if they were all to join in a finale together. Joan and Inez blubbered and were rolling from side to side. They were clinched together in a wild and erotic embrace. And Dick continued to stare at them, enthralled by their action, enraptured with his own jerking-off action upon himself. His eyes were narrow. His entire body stammered.
Lisa crashed upon Dan a final time. She screamed the results of her thrill. He answered it with a groan, a choke, and a final quick upward thrusting. "You fucking cunt!" he screamed.
And then they were quiet and collapsed together, Lisa leaning far forward, her cheek resting against his chest. He, holding her, cuddling the after-thrill softness of her to him.
Lisa opened her eyes and saw that Inez and Joan had also completed the search they had pursued so relentlessly. And when she looked at Dick, she saw that he had finished beating his groovy prick, that he had quieted and shyly turned his back on the others.
She closed her eyes quickly, as if anxious to blot out the scene. But it was impossible. It persisted. And as she reviewed the images of herself and her friends, all involved in erotic endeavors, she suddenly thought of Don Maywood. Then she felt better. If she had felt thrilled at her power to make him engage her in the front seat of a car, if she felt strong and definite in that she had quickly seduced a staid stranger professor, what greater thrill would she know with him when he arrived at Benton? She wondered how he would react to the many sexual things she had planned for him, those erotic things that she and her friends would provide in order to influence him in his deliberation of Blair candidates.
Lisa smiled, then cuddled closer to the hard chest of her football hero.
CHAPTER THREE
When Cass Bigelow finished with the day's interviews at the high school which had been first on the itinerary, she decided to investigate the small, northern town. When she made the decision, she instinctively thought of Don Haywood and considered once again asking him to join her. But she decided against it. Don had been quiet during the trip to Bay City. But Cass sensed that his quietness was not caused by unhappiness. He looked youthful and gay, more this way than at any time that she could remember. And the quietness he attained seemed a part of happiness. She decided against disturbing it. She would give him time. Perhaps the absence from Blair was just what Don needed to spark him to life and activity, to rescue him from premature age and decay.
Slowly, Cass walked the several blocks to the old fashioned hotel where she and Don had registered. She smiled at the memory of Don and herself registering, standing side by side, he, she was sure, very aware of the closeness of her body, aware of that and very sensitive to the sexual connotations hotel registration provoked. She smiled thinking about it. Then she wondered why she yearned so much for Don, a man who seemed not the least interested in her. She created an image of his dark, handsome features, seeing, as if they were real, his dark eyes, close-cropped dark hair, his six-foot stature, the wide shoulders, muscled arms, hard chest, and good, strong legs.
Cass sighed and destroyed the mental image.
When she arrived at the hotel, she secured her key at the desk and went immediately to her room on the third floor. As the elevator glided past the second floor, Cass again thought of Don and wondered how long it would be before he finished his interviews and returned to the hotel.
The elevator stopped. Cass departed it, moved down the narrow corridor, then opened her door and stepped inside.
The room was stuffy. It was hot. Cass went to the window, wrestled it a moment, then freed it and threw it high. She breathed deeply, but there was little breeze to cool her. She decided upon a shower; yes, she would shower then investigate the town.
Cass drew back from the window. While she continued to face it, she undressed. She slid the zipper of her dress down, then wiggled her body out of it. There followed her half-slip and bra. When she dropped the bra to the floor, she cupped her breasts in her hands, held them tightly for a moment, feeling the stickiness they had acquired. Gently, for the barest moment, she kneaded her hot flesh, then pinched lightly at the large, red, nipples. She felt a quiver at her thighs. It was a sad reminder of how long it had been since she had known the delight of a man. And as she thought of it, she regretted once again the vow she had made to herself when she began her faculty position at Blair State nearly seven months earlier, that vow that forbade herself sexual indiscretions until she was secure in her new employment.
Cass unclasped her breasts. Then she wiggled her hips out of brief, bikini panties, unfastened her stockings from the garter belt, slid belt and stockings from her legs and was at last free of all encumbrance. She stretched her arms high above her head, enjoying the feel of nakedness and freedom. She made a half-turn and looked at herself in the mirror. Then she swung her arms downward and sighed. She liked the looks of her body as it relaxed, the way she looked both soft and firm; opposite conditions that seemed so compatible for the giving of love.
Cass sighed once more and moved close enough to the window so that she could look out it without herself being seen from below. A few people moved down the street. Several men loitered in front of a bar. Cass recognized them at once as men who worked on the lake ships. They looked hard and rough. Cass felt a quiver of interest at her thighs and she wondered why she had never been able to properly equate the differences of her desires in men, the way she liked both those who were intellectuals and those who were muscled and rough and mean.
Cass stared at the men for a full minute, then turned and left the window. She went to the bathroom and adjusted the shower to the temperature she desired. Then, without even the protection of a shower cap, she stepped into the sharp, tingling spray.
She soaped her entire body with a large, soft sponge. Then she rinsed, turning and raising her face to the shower in order to know its full, crashing contact. Then she turned and soaped again. She took a lot of time with her body. She delayed the action of the sponge at her breasts, rubbed it lovingly there until her nipples elongated and hardened. The puff of them made her again think of men, sex with them, and the denial she had imposed upon herself. And again she remembered how she had been firm with herself about the pleasures of men. Why? she questioned. Was self-denial a part of some subconscious resistance or resentment? Of course not, she told herself. It was as simple as avoiding trouble. Men had caused her trouble in the past. She had lost good faculty positions because of men. She liked Blair and wanted to continue working there. So, until she was well-oriented in her work, secure and valuable to the institution, she had decided to refrain from sexual commitments. Cass lowered the sponge to her thighs and massaged vigorously there. And as she felt the quick sensation of thrill come to her, she knew that given the opportunity she would chuck her high resolves, re-welcome men to her body and say to hell with Blair and everything. She slowed her pace and rubbed more gently. She felt the pin-pricks of excitement nick at every part of her body. She felt her breasts bloating larger. She felt the muscles of her lower stomach tighten as if in readiness for some crashing explosion. And she knew that she could cause that explosion, that she, at her will, could rip her body apart while she entertained mental fantasies of herself with a man and in an act of love. But it was a poor substitute, often indulged in, but always without full satisfaction.
Cass dropped the sponge, rinsed once more, then shut off the shower and stepped from the tiled cubicle. She wrapped herself in a huge turkish towel, pulling it tightly around her body and tucking the ends inside to form a sarong effect. Then she took a smaller towel and rubbed hard at her wet, golden hair. It was when she pulled the towel free from her hair and dropped it to the floor that she heard the gentle knock at the door in the other room.
She stood perfectly still. She felt excited as she wondered if it might be Don Haywood. Quickly, she glanced at the towel which encased her body. She smiled, thinking of the shock and fright it would cause him. Then she hurried to the door as the knock resumed.
Cass felt the strange equal parts of disappointment and pleasure when she opened the door. A tall colored boy of about seventeen faced her. He smiled self-consciously. He was wearing the tight fitting uniform of a hotel bell hop.
"Oh, my goodness," Cass said, stepping back a pace. "You surprised me."
"Sorry, ma'am," the boy said. "I didn't mean to do that."
Cass glanced to her bare feet, then she took another pace deeper into her small room. The boy's eyes had grown large and curious and they hurried their stare to different parts of her body: to her breasts, to her long, bare legs, and especially, to the sharp line the towel made high at her thighs.
"Well, what can I do for you?" Cass asked. As she spoke, she considered hiding her body behind the partially open door. But she did not for she felt a certain excitement for the boy's obvious surprise and enchantment with her.
"I go to City High School," the boy said.
"Oh, do you?" Cass replied, smiling.
"Yes, ma'am. And you see-well, I'm here as a kind of representative of the other kids."
"And I just bet you want to go to Blair State when you graduate, don't you?"
"No, ma'am." The boy lowered his eyes to the floor, then said, "I'm not planning on college.
But a lot of kids are and lots of them want to go to Blair and that's why I was supposed to call on you."
"To represent them?" Cass asked.
"In a way. We all want you to come to a beach party we've planned in your honor-yours and Professor Haywood's."
"How nice," Cass said. She turned and looked around the room. "Come in and sit down. And tell me, why did this responsibility fall on you?"
"Because I'm handy. I work in the hotel after school."
Cass walked ahead of the boy. When she reached the center of the room, she motioned to a large, leather chair. She smiled as the boy, very aware of her skimpy attire now, moved ahead and seated himself in the chair.
"And what's your name?" Cass asked. "You failed to introduce yourself, young man."
"Oh, sorry," he said. "I'm Ben Doan."
Cass smiled slowly and looked over all of the boy's trim body. He was very handsome, she decided. His coloration was that of shiny chestnuts and it accentuated the hard look of his body. She imagined how he might look if he were taken back several generations, placed in a jungle setting and allowed to romp wild and naked, dancing about a fire. She felt a tingling sensation at her breasts. She recognized that the thought had made her body groan for the boy. She banished it.
"You caught me in the shower," Cass said. "If you'll excuse me, I'll get a robe."
The boy nodded. He looked very disappointed.
When Cass was concealed behind the bathroom door, she looked in the small closet where she had stored some of her clothes. But as quickly as she considered dressing, she discarded the idea. Ben, the handsome colored boy, was much too excited by her near nakedness to be totally denied it, Cass decided. And, she, too, was excited, Cass readily recognized.
She snatched a short, terry cloth robe from a hanger and slipped it onto her body. She looked at herself in the door mirror. The cut of it at her thighs was every bit as effective as the towel had been. She tied the belt at the side, then pushed the throat of the robe apart in a way that exposed much of her breasts. This was even better than the towel, Cass decided. The towel, although it held her tightly and out-lined her body, kept bare flesh concealed. The robe did not. She smiled, remembering the disappointment that had shown in his eyes when she left the room to dress. She wondered if they would flame alive again when she returned.
Cass saw that Ben alerted to the edge of the chair when she returned to the room. And his eyes did look fiery and alive, hot with sudden desire.
Cass had not bothered with slippers. She thought the bareness of her feet added to her total image. And she knew that the way her breasts bounced beneath the robe as she moved added to that image. Then she wondered why she sought to create an image? Was she a tease? She had dismissed men from her life for awhile, why, by the sudden appearance of a teenaged colored boy, did she choose to look wanton and ready and hot? Then she ceased thinking about it. Perhaps the time had come for her to end her sexual abstinence, she considered. And, after all, she thought, who could be more discreet than a high school student?
"All right," she said. "Suppose you tell me all about the party in our honor."
"Well, we planned it to acquaint you with some of the kids who are planning on going to Blair. They thought if you were to get to know them a little bit-socially, you know-well, it might help you in making an evaluation of their applications."
"Very sound thinking," Cass said. She seated herself on a small love seat directly in front of Ben. "Part of our evaluation of applicants does concern their sociability, their poise and relationship with their peers."
His body seemed to tense as Cass curled her bare legs beneath her buttocks. The position was one that encouraged the hem of her robe to pull high above her knees.
"And when is the beach party?" Cass asked.
"Saturday night. We have a real nice lake here. The beach is great. So, will you and Mr. Haywood come?"
She snapped her fingers and looked very upset. Then she said, "Did you say this Saturday night?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Darn it anyway," she said. "I promised to have dinner with your principal and his wife. I'm disappointed. I'd love your party."
"I'm disappointed too," Ben said. He looked it.
"Maybe Professor Haywood can arrange to be there," she said. "I happen to know he turned down the principal's invitation for dinner, but maybe he'll go to your party. He's very devoted to students."
"I hope so," Ben said.
"And maybe I can come over later," Cass told him. "That is, if you don't mind my arriving late."
"We won't mind a bit, ma'am," Ben said, lighting up a bit.
"Now tell me about you, Ben," Cass asked him. She settled more loungefully in her chair. Her breasts, especially the nipple of one, peeked from beneath the rough, turkish material. She intended that it should be so presented. Cass felt more seductive than at any time she could remember, and she knew that it was caused by her long absence of the physical pleasure of a man.
"There's not much to tell," Ben said. "I'm a senior at school. I work here after school. I figure I might stay in the hotel business after I graduate. I like it. Sometimes it's a real ball."
"Really?"
"Yip. Bell hops, well, we get to know all sorts of things about people."
"I bet you do," she said. "And I bet you play football on the school team."
"No, ma'am. I did, but then I quit so I could work here."
"My, how serious minded you must be."
He laughed, then said, "The kids would laugh if they heard you say that. They kinda consider me the playboy in town."
"How exciting," Cass said, leaning forward a bit more while she boosted her hips, causing even more of her robe to creep upward. She stared into his eyes for a moment without speaking, then she said, "You're very interesting. I think colored men are always interesting."
"You do?"
"Oh, my, yes."
"Why's that, Miss Bigelow?"
"Many reasons. You all seem so strong and capable."
"Capable?"
"Yes. Or maybe 'virile' is a better word for it."
"It's a good word all right. What does it mean?"
She trilled a laugh, then said. "You're a senior and you don't know the meaning of the word 'virile'?"
"No, ma'am."
"It means sexually strong. Now don't tell me that you don't know what that means either."
"I dig that all right," he said, grinning, appearing to loosen up a bit, gain confidence that her presence had at first denied him.
"It's true, too, isn't it," Cass asked. Her eyes narrowed and her breathing quickened.
"I don't know about that," he said. "But I've heard that remark made before. And, working in the hotel like I do, well, I've seen some things that kinda make that true."
"I think it's true," she said softly. "I did a thesis on the subject when I was in college and I was quite thorough in my interviews."
"You mean you really asked people about things like that?" he questioned, amazed.
"Of course. These things should always be candidly discussed. It's the only way to gain real knowledge."
Cass breathed deeply and as she exhaled, made a decision. Her body, hot and anxious, forced her to face the very provocative picture of herself, nude except for a robe and in the presence of a strong boy who would, she had little doubt, make a move to seduce her should she give him a chance.
Cass pushed up from the love seat. She moved to the window then turned to Ben. "Come here, will you? I'm planning a tour of the town and you can show me the direction to the lake."
"Why, it's right-." He stopped. His eyes glowed with sudden recognition. Then he stood up and moved to the window.
Cass was sure she could feel heat being transmitted from his body to hers when he stopped next to her. And she actually felt the heat when she maneuvered to press her breast lightly against his forearm. But it was when she felt the quick pressure of his thigh against her body that she knew that he yearned for her. She had not provoked that. The touch had been his answer to her secret call.
"See, Miss Bigelow," Ben said. "The lake's right over there at the end of that second street. You can see it from here."
"Oh, yes, my, but it's beautiful."
"It certainly is, ma'am." Ben pulled a bit away from contact with her body.
Slowly, she turned. She thought of her long denial, the considerations she had made while showering, then she thought of her presence with the strong, young Negro, her presence with him and his very noticeable attraction to her. A tremble ran through her body. Then, forcefully, she denied it, cooled it even as she could not completely cool her thoughts.
"Well, thank you for the invitation," she said, moving away from him. "And if possible, I'll come to the beach party late."
"Late-early-anytime, ma'am, 'cause we'll be mighty happy to have you-all the kids, and especially me."
She smiled. She felt her breasts harden, and she cursed herself for the good sense she used at the moment, the good sense that had she not possessed it would have thrown her together with the colored boy in an affair that she knew would scorch the room, herself, him, everything-scorch the world for her denial had already lasted too long.
Ben apparently recognized the decision Cass had made. He moved to the door. Then he opened it, turned, smiled once more, and left Cass alone.
She looked at the closed door for a long time. She thought of Don Haywood and felt very sad as she wondered if they would ever find each other through the formalities of academic life.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Quiet, you cats," Ben Doan shouted to the group of teenagers who mingled about the giant bonfire.
"Okay, so we're not noisy," a girl said. "But we'll fuck noisy soon, so what's the big announcement."
"Yeah, how about that," a small, beautifully shaped colored girl said. "Ben's always got an announcement. He's getting to be awful big beans around here. Pretty soon, he'll make an announcement about how to go down."
Ben looked at her and grinned. His eyes coasted down her body which was light brown and almost totally bare beneath a skimpy bikini that even showed a hard, rounded pussy. Then he said, "Tina, what you got that swim suit on for? It's April, and that ain't for swimming, girl."
She took a couple of paces toward him, swinging her shoulders in an exaggerated way as she moved in order to better expose her large, firm tits.
"Sure it's April," she said. "But I'm unseasonably hot. Hot for coming, baby."
Laughter issued from the group when Ben said, "You're unseasonably hot, girl. And you're always out of season that way."
"Phoeeee, to you, big bean," she said, sticking her pink tongue out at him, then rolling it as if it were on his organ.
"All right, children, all of you listen to your old Uncle Ben now," Ben said, turning his attention to the dozen or so youngsters who bunched in front of him.
"Where's that creepy old professor anyway?" a boy in swim trunks inquired.
"He'll be along most any time now," Ben told them. "Now listen, this is what I want to go over with this club. You all want to go to Blair State, right?"
"Right," chorused the group.
"Well, don't forget that Professor Haywood is the guy who can get you in that drippy college."
"We know," a girl, also in a bikini, said. "We have to be on our best behavior. "We'll fuck him blind," she said.
"Yes, your best behavior, Lee," Ben said.
"Oh, goodie," Lee exclaimed. She did a quick little dance that made her blonde hair fly wildly about her waist while her breasts thumped in and out of the thin bra top. The moon's rays and the glint of the fire made her white skin seem seared with heat.
"So, everyone take my advice," Ben continued. "Throw everything you've got into making a good impression on the Prof-and you kids better know the kind of impression I mean."
"Great, just great," a boy called out. "That's fine for the chicks, but what about us guys? Are we going to have to go queer or something? I don't want to suck his cock!"
"Not unless you're so inclined," Ben said soberly.
The group roared.
"Blair's got another little old representative here at Bay City," Ben continued. "Her name's Miss Bigelow, and men, she's a dish-a wild, crazy dish."
"You talking from experience?" another boy asked.
"Don't worry about that," Ben said. "Just take my word for it."
"And we're supposed to make it with this chick, right?" a tall boy dressed in ragged jeans asked.
"Use your own imagination. But men, it won't hurt a bit if you do. She'll fuck you good for your efforts."
"Come on, that's enough of the business part of this old meeting," the Negro girl, Tina, said.
"We all know what to do with the Blair people. We're not dumb, you know, we can shift for ourselves. I'll shift my pussy right into his mouth!"
"Hey, look at Tina shift," a boy cried out.
Tina raised her arms above her head and wiggled her body madly as she made a complete circle. The bonfire flames ignited her, made her seem wild and savage and very, very desirable. She must have known of the erotic picture she created, for she moved her buttocks in such a manner as to dip the bikini bottom so low that it looked as if it would loosen and fall. And her bra twisted below her whirling breasts to expose black-brown nipples that stuck out of their moulds like hard forefingers.
The group of teenagers started to clap and holler encouragement for her wanton dance. But when she paused and dropped her hands, they quieted again.
"Just one thing," a girl at the back of the group called out. "I've got something to say."
"Well, step up and say it," Ben told her.
In a moment, the girl pushed through the others and arrived next to Ben. Ben's eyes roamed her body appreciatively when she paused in front of him.
She was beautiful in an odd and exotic way. She was quite tall, possibly five feet seven. Her complexion was a strange mixture of many Pacific races; Hawaiian, Chinese, Japanese, and ingredients of remote ocean islands. Her hair was black and hung loosely to her hips. Her eyes were as brown as chestnuts and nearly as round, but with a slight elongation of them that added true, Oriental flavor. Her body was very erect; she stood as straight as a cadet. She wore a white peasant blouse above short, very tight, shorts. The blouse was loose and billowed at the bottom, providing, from time to time, a brief glance of yellow-brown-white flesh. Her hips were high but they moulded so perfectly into long, keen legs, that one had but slight suspicion that a part of her background was also Negro. She was barefooted. Her nails were polished a vivid orange and they seemed like part of the bonfire itself. Her hips snuggled so tightly beneath the short shorts that they seemed a part of her flesh. And her breasts were large and bounced freely beneath the blouse. Yet, as they moved, there was a conservativeness to them, a kind of withholding of them, even as they rippled free of any undergarment. The sharp V of material at her thighs announced an absence of undergarments at that area, too. But it was the girl's face more than anything that made her seem different from the others. Her mouth was wide and red and looked very, very worldly. Her nose was small, yet the nostrils seemed constantly working as if they sought a particular scent.
Ben Doan rolled his tongue over his lips as he looked at the girl. She seemed not the least impressed.
Finally, he said, "All right, Lio, you've got the floor." He made a little introductory motion with his hand, then stepped to the background.
Lio was quiet a moment. She moved her eyes over the group in front of her. At some of them, she paused. Others, she quickly passed over. And finally she looked straight ahead, seeing all of them, but none of them in particular.
"All of you are overlooking something," Lio said. "You're assuming that you can't qualify for Blair State so you're rigging up all sorts of gimmicks and blackmail and prostitution of yourselves, did you ever consider that it might not be necessary, that you might be able to play it straight and still make it?"
"I considered it," a girl said. "And that's why I've got to use some little tricks."
"That may be true for some of you," Lio continued. "But think of this. You'll never really know if you could make Blair or not. If you use your bodies with this professor-and I already don't think much of him-well, it's going to do something to your confidence. If you can't make Blair on your merits, it'd be better to go to a lesser college and at least know that you can compete, that you didn't con your way into the school."
"I'm going to make Blair," a girl called out. "I'm going to make Blair any way that I can, then I'm going to make every damn man on the campus to make sure I get through four years of the place."
Lio did not reply to the girl. Her eyes turned a bit sad looking and small, premature age lines appeared at her forehead.
"Well, I just thought I'd mention it," Lio said in a low voice.
"What about you?" a boy asked. "How are you going to play it?"
"Straight," she replied quickly. "Blair has the best reputation in the country. It's one of the hardest to get into. I'm trying on my record alone. If I don't make it, well-. Well, I'll just have to settle for something else."
She paused, seemed about to speak again, but then did not. She sighed and her erect posture seemed to slump a bit. Then she walked back into the group of her peers.
"Thank you," Ben said, stepping forward again. "We appreciate your views even if you're really speaking only for yourself."
Ben spoke very formally and he wondered why he did. Then he realized that the presence of Lio had caused a change in the tone and quality of his voice. She nearly always did that to the boys, he remembered. It was a strange, but charming quality, but one with which he could not compete. It unnerved him, made him want to assert gaiety in order to give him confidence again.
"Anyone else have anything to say?" he asked.
"No, let's get with some fun," a girl replied. "We've had enough of this business. We're all going to play it our own way with the Prof, but until then, come on, cats, let's swing, let's jive, let's do some damn thing to get some life around here."
"I was just about to suggest that," Ben said, grinning a big white split through his black face. "Jim, have you got that little bottle of mystery juice with you?"
"Sure have, chief," Jim, the boy of the ragged jeans said, stepping forward.
"Good, pass it around to those who want it," Ben instructed. "No obligation, at all, take it or leave it according to your own desires."
"Or the lack of it, for some of you studs," blonde Lee laughed.
"True, true, true," Ben said. "Now don't be hoggish. Save a little of that puff stuff for the prof. And maybe Miss Bigelow will want a bit too if she gets here."
Jim, his body bare above his tight jeans, a tight hard-on bulging, extended a small bottle toward Ben. "Come on, chief, drink up. The leader of this little gang had better be first."
"He is," Ben said, taking the bottle. He grinned once before he swigged from the bottle. He took only a small amount of the liquid, then handed the bottle back to the boy.
Jim turned from him, took some of the liquid himself, then passed the bottle to Tina, who was the first in line.
Ben Doan watched as the bottle changed hands. A new kind of excitement began to growl within him. Always strong, always virile, the light aphrodisiac, nevertheless, had its effect upon him. He looked at the bodies of all the girls in front of him. He felt capable of a mass seduction of them all; felt hard enough and strong enough to go from one to the other then back again without a pause, without going soft, without rest or revitalization of his masculinity. Wild thoughts, those he ordinarily never entertained, raced through his mind. He looked at the group of girls and considered the fantasy of walking over their naked bodies, grinding his hard, black toes into their bellies and their breasts. Then he envisioned them walking across his naked body as he lay naked and prone upon the beach. Then he thought of the torment he would like to bring to them, and he thought of cruelties he would like them to bring to him. Ben, thinking of all these things, bloated his chest and felt powerful. And he was powerful, he decided. After all, it was he who was the leader of this high school group, he who worked as a bellhop as they planned college careers. And it would be he, his own organizational ability, that secured a place at Blair State for many of them. He grinned thinking of it, considering how right it seemed that he, one of the underprivileged, was the one to whom the others turned when they needed help for their upperclass ambitions.
As the last teenager, a flaming red-haired girl with fabulous breasts, drank from the bottle, Ben asked, "Everyone set? Did everybody get some of this joy juice?"
"Everybody but Lio," Jim reported.
Ben looked through the others until he found Lio standing at the back of the group. Then he smiled and said, "Lio, honey, why do you even stick around with us? You don't do a damn thing we want to."
"You all amuse me," Lio retorted. "Besides, I like most of you and want to be around to drive you home if you need it. And you will."
Ben laughed. So did the others. But their laughter had a different ring to it now. It sounded slow and soft and very expectant. It had lost its sharpness, contained now only a kind of looming patience for anything that might develop.
"Okay, what are we going to play?" Ben asked the group.
There was silence for a full minute, then the dark-skinned Tina said, "I feel wild and ready for something different."
"Me, too," white-skinned, very blonde Lee agreed.
"Well, suppose you two just do what comes naturally-or unnaturally," Ben suggested.
Tina needed no coaxing. She jumped in front of the group and turned and faced them. Then she yelled, "Hey, man, beat that bongo, will ya?"
A bongo drum started its heavy, thumping beat from the back of the group. Tina started the gyrations of a mad dance. Her hips shifted from side to side, her belly rolled muscle rolls of flesh up and down, her thighs trembled and her feet planted fast and heavy upon the sandy beach. And all the time her tits shook and whirled, jumped out of the bra, then hid again for a moment before coming into view again.
And her hips shook the bottom of her bikini so loose that it dipped far, far below her navel, threatened for a moment full exposure of her brown skin, then finally did provide that exposure as the bikini bottom slid lower and finally fell at her feet on the sand. She stepped out of it and continued her insane movements. And soon, she reached behind her, undid the knot of her bra and threw it far away from her.
Ben felt a jolt of immense desire as Tina continued her dance. He looked at her brown-skinned body and wondered why he had never yet fucked this beautiful girl why he had been recently so intent upon white flesh, that he had overlooked the beauty of his own race. He saw her hair flying, her naked body twirling and arching and thrusting forward and back as she were already involved in an act with some unseen lover.
He quickly reminded himself of his position as leader of the group, told himself that he must be more patient than the others, even when stormed by the effects of an aphrodisiac. To aid his poise, he looked at the others. All of them were swaying. Jim had dismissed his ragged jeans and stood nude, his cock sticking straight out. A few of the girls, while their eyes remained trained on Tina, started to step out of their clothing. Some of the other boys followed their example. And all of them appeared to patiently wait as Tina ignited them to an even higher pitch.
She brought a change of direction to her dance. She began to swoop close to the fire, then away from it, then close again. Once, Ben nearly gasped aloud as it seemed that she had entered the fire. But it had been only an illusion. She had gone close, close enough to feel the heat upon her, Ben was sure, yet she was still free of flames which might have engulfed her body.
Beads of perspiration bubbled at every part of Tina's body. Some turned into streams and rolled down her dark skin. She looked hot and wet and completely crazed.
She turned away from the fire. With a wild yell, she darted a few paces away from the group. She stopped at one of the vine-entwined trees which bordered the beach. She approached it, dancing, swaying, moving her body erotically as if she were approaching a monster lover. And in a moment the tree became just that. Her cunt, swollen with passion, seemed to open and exude a musky odor.
Tina brought her naked tits close to the harsh bark and thorn-studded vine that wrapped around the trunk. She threw her head far back and arched like a bow. Then, moving slowly, she whipped her tits from side to side. She moved faster, then still faster. Her breasts thrashed against the tree. The bonfire flames, shooting up as if her act had set new fuel upon them, enveloped her in a spotlight glow of red. And she whipped her large, brown tits harder and harder against the tree, so hard that blood began to ooze and trickle down her front until she was lined with streams of blood that could, by extension, represent the very life-lines of her blood vessels.
She gave another wild yell and stopped the action. Then she moved forward, arched strongly, and brought her thighs together around the tree trunk. She clasped and unclasped with a fury. She tortured herself with an abandon that seemed bent upon great injury, death, or both so long as the one preceded the other. And she uttered wild and uncanny calls while she moved, while she pressured her cunt against the tree from her deep, back-bending position of erotic thrusting.
Ben looked at her, became mindful of his black heritage. He wondered how it had been in the past. He wondered if Lisa's drive for self-punishment had some sexual precedent that had been established in savage jungles long before white men knew the earth. He wondered if what she made herself suffer thrilled her as much as her body seemed to be thrilled. He wondered.
Tina went lower on the tree trunk. She moved until she nearly squatted. But her low position did not slow her action. It made her move faster, give herself more drivingly to the brutal tree. Her juices were smeared along the tree trunk.
As if by previous arrangement, the bongo drum beat a series of hard, final notes, then went quiet. So did Tina. She raised high upon the tree a final, slow-grinding time, then turned and faced her friends.
There was a slight gasp that escaped from every pair of lips in the group. Tina was covered with blood. It streaked her body like long, bony witch's fingers. It puddled at her navel. It smeared at her thighs. It ran raggedly down her inner-thighs until it ended at her feet. She looked as if she had been dipped in blood, held by a heel by some wicked mother then dipped quickly into the element of her life's flow.
Slowly, very slowly, undulating her body as she moved, Tina brought both of her hands to her thighs. She let them pause there a moment. Then, in a long, slow caress of all her body, she moved her hands upward, smearing blood as she moved until at last she joined that which had been at her thighs with that which still smeared at her breasts.
Then she dropped her hands and cried out. Then she collapsed, blubbering.
Ben looked away from Tina. The sight was almost more than he could stand. He felt suddenly very tired and very disgusted for this orgy, so much like the others that they held regularly, because it marked some perveristy of their youth that none of them really wanted-didn't want, but accepted as substitutes for those things they did not possess.
Ben was still breathing hard when Lee suddenly appeared before the group. She was very blonde looking and she had brought nudity to her body. She faced her peers, bringing herself into a position of leadership that Ben did not care to dispute.
Lee looked very white and pure as Ben stared at her through half-closed eyes. Her breasts bloated, then collapsed, then bloated again as her strained breathing moved them back and forth. There was a tremor that had come to her entire body giving her the appearance of one who was still uncertain as to just what it was she was meant to do. She started to speak, then stopped. She looked around at all the others. Then she again started to speak, and once again did not.
Finally, after breathing deeply, Lee said, "I guess maybe-well, maybe all the rest of you feel the same way I do. Kind of crazy and excited and-and-well, anxious for almost anything. And I think we all know that it's because of that stuff we took. But that doesn't really matter, maybe that juice just frees us from-well, from our inhibitions. I'm all kind of crazy and mixed up, like I know what's going on except that it's a dream, not real, yet I know it is. Anyway, we don't have much time before Professor Haywood will get here and I just want to-to-to do something, but I don't know what."
There was a murmur of agreement among the crowd, indicating that all of them felt much the same as Lee, that they were motivated toward great experimentation but lacked direction for that outlet.
It was quiet a moment, then the red-haired girl stepped forward. Her mighty tits were heaving as if she had just finished a long distance run. She was naked except for the tiny bottom of a very small swimsuit. Pink-brown freckles spotted her body, making her breast ends appear more pink than they actually were.
"I think I know what you mean, Lee," the redhead said. "So you feel as if you'd like to do everything-all at once-and with everyone?"
"Yes, that's it," Lee exclaimed, shocked, but pleased that words had been given to her feelings.
"Hey, yeah, that's it," a boy called out.
"That's just what I was thinking," a girl giggled self-consciously.
And there were shouts of agreement from nearly everyone in the crowd.
Lee turned and looked at Ben Doan as if seeking his advice. He merely nodded, then she turned back to the others. She started to speak, then stopped, shrugged her shoulders and looked at the red-haired girl.
"Let me," the red-haired girl said. "I've been on these kick parties before."
Lee stepped back and relinquished her position in front of the naked, and half-naked, teenagers.
"Do you all know what 'mingle' means?" the girl asked.
Affirmative shouts came from the group.
"All right then, let's mingle. Pound that damn bongo drum and let's roam around and do any damn thing that comes into our mind. Okay?"
Shouts of approval ripped through the dark night.
The bongo drum pounded a weird beat, one of rapture and delight and mystery. The naked youngsters moved around the small circle of sand. Everyone moved except Lio, who remained in the background, watching, looking more sexually exquisite than any of the naked girls who walked with bouncing bare breasts among the boys.
It seemed that they might move without direction forever, and perhaps they would have, had not the flaming haired girl with the freckled body ended their aimlessness.
"Oh, man, let's go," she shouted.
She reached out and grabbed the forearms of two boys who were nearest her. She urged them to move together in front of her. For a moment she let her eyes sweep the nakedness of each of them. Then, with a mighty crash, she brought her body against them and wrestled them to the beach. Both boys went willingly to their backs. And the redhead loomed over them like a fiery cloud meant upon drawing the life out from each. She dragged her large tits atop the first boy. She raised her shoulders a bit, then undulated them so that her breasts swept heavily at the boy's mouth. He opened and snapped at her, and finally consumed her tit for a moment. But a moment was all the time she allowed him, she fought her tits free, then crashed them both against the face of the other boy. He, too, responded with a snap and a growl, a quick taking and a thirsty drawing. Soon, she withdrew from him in order to offer duality to her efforts. She urged the boy's heads closer together, then she raised and lowered upon them so each could know the comfort and the excitement of her breasts. The boys went to them like twins, each to a single mould, each to his individual play upon it. The redhead swept her shoulders deeply, then arched away, then came close again, lingered while she swayed and pulled her breasts against the hold they made upon them. And as she moved, she arched deeply. Her flaming hair fell back. Her face looked strained as if billions of small sparks of sensation were gathering within her body, making ready for some odd unleashing. Then, answering that call of billions, she arched like a swan diver.
Ben roused himself a bit and watched. The red-haired girl and her lovers seemed very strange to him, very far away, but what they were achieving seemed quite near. So did the things that the others were achieving.
He shifted his eyes to the side. Here, two girls were engaged with a single boy. They were wrapped around each other like the lines of an abstract statue. One girl was on her side. The boy was stretched horizontally to her.
Slowly, Ben Doan moved his eyes from that scene. But he only encountered another.
Two girls were stretched on the ground together. They were pointed in opposite directions of each other. Ben looked away. Now he was confronted with a new threesome. A girl, on her knees, her breasts hanging to the sand, swung her hips madly as she received the lurching boy behind her. And, catching fire from the thrill she was receiving, she in turn provided thrill for the boy who sat cross-legged at her head. His fingers were wrapped tightly in her hair. He moved her head in a vigorous motion, one that seemed as intense as the motion of her buttocks.
For a moment, Ben only watched. But soon, his eyes were made to blink by the sudden appearance of a car's lights that swooped to a stop at the top of the hill above the beach.
Instantly, he asserted his leadership, that which had been momentarily lost.
"Cut it, kiddies," he shouted. "Cut it and get into some clothes-for a while, that is, cause our professor's done arrived!"
CHAPTER FIVE
It was so dark after he cut the lights of the rented car that Don Haywood was certain that he could never make his way safely to the beach, despite the blaze of the huge bonfire which pinpointed the scene of the youthful beach party.
Don looked around, then sighed and relaxed behind the steering wheel for a moment. His hands, still gripping the wheel, were tense. He wondered why. He relaxed them, let them drop in his lap, then he sighed again.
Don was surprised that he had actually agreed to attend the Bay City teenagers' party. He felt the flashing wish that Cass Bigelow had been able to find a way to join him. But she had not.
She was obligated to dinner with the principal and his wife, and, where Cass was obligated, she obliged.
The fire sent sparks into the sky like millions of fire flys. Don looking at it, felt restlessness within him. It was a new feeling, one that had persisted throughout the brief journey he had made with Cass. He knew its cause. Sexuality. Great, steaming sexuality, the strongest that had ever pushed through his conservative life to claim his almost constant attention.
After the astonishing circumstances that had found him making love in a car at the faculty parking lot with the sexually aggressive High School girl, Lisa, Don had sparked to life, had declared himself a man who would in the future taste of life in the fullest, pursue its every joy, miss no opportunity to enhance and repeat the thrill he had known from the lustful body of the sixteen year old. But, a few days later, guilt had set it. Don felt like the villain who had violated an innocent child. Since that time, he had bounced back and forth between the opposite poles of desire and caution like a ping pong ball. He was ambivalent and uncertain of himself. So uncertain that he had constantly avoided Cass and her bold overtures of love. And with the students he interviewed, he remained stern and passive; that way on the outside, but on the inside he boiled with desire for the young bodies that presented themselves at the office which had been provided by the Bay City High School.
And now he was attending a high school beach party, he thought. And now-what? It was insane, a part of him cautioned. It was great, the very thing he had too long denied himself, another part of him hurried to assure.
Don opened the car door and stepped into the blackness of the night. He moved away from the car carefully, but as his eyes adjusted to darkness he quickened his pace, moved more confidently toward the bonfire which seemed to beckon like the devil.
When he had made his way down the steep hill that -rimmed the beach, Don paused. His shoes had filled with sand. He felt thoroughly uncomfortable. He wished that he had not worn his dark business suit. It seemed absolutely, too, too out of place. But he had wanted to maintain the dignity of a visiting professor so he had looked longingly at slacks and sport shirts in his closet as he decided not to change. Now he wished he had done otherwise.
Don walked sandy, heavy-footed down the beach. He did not stop until a tall, dark form stepped toward him just outside the ring of fire.
"Professor Haywood, I presume," the voice said politely.
"Yes. Yes, I am," Don replied.
The form stepped nearer and Don saw that his greeting host was a handsome colored boy.
"I'm Ben, sir," Ben said. "Welcome to our little gathering. We're so glad you consented to join us."
"Well, now," Don said, his voice taking on a note of pleasure. "I'm really delighted to be here, Mr.-."
"Ben, please, sir."
"Of course, Ben. Yes, now, I'm delighted to be here."
Don allowed himself to be escorted to the circle the rest of the youngsters made. He looked at all of them. He was surprised at how quiet they were. He had somehow expected greater noise and abandon from such a youthful group. He was even a little sorry that they appeared so sedate.
As Ben introduced him to the Bay City High School juniors and seniors, Don bowed and looked closely at each of the students. There were so many he couldn't remember the names. But some seemed very special, were the kind of youngsters he could not help but respond to with admiration.
There was a flaming haired girl with a freckled body, revealed to him only below shorts and from the short sleeves of her blouse. She seemed very nice. A little shy, to be sure, but nice nevertheless. And there was a little chocolate doll of a girl named Tina. Don was very impressed with her. She had an amazingly intact body and he rather wished that she had not concealed it so fully beneath a long, terry-cloth robe. And the boy, Jim, seemed nice, too. Shy and conservative. Don knew the type well. Jim was the kind of boy who was always, and always would be, in the background of any group. A true introvert, the kind who shivered at the sight of a girl, who mumbled when confronted by an adult, the kind of boy who would always be ill at ease in a group. Even the ragged jeans the boy wore revealed this to Don. The unconventional jeans were the boy's attempt to be different, to draw the attention to himself that would not otherwise come to him. The pretty blonde girl named Lee was the female other half of Jim, Don decided. Shy, retiring, she was the kind of child who flushed at a dirty word, even a word that was not truly dirty, just off-color. Yes, they seemed a very nice group, Don decided. Very nice. The kind of teenagers he could instantly read, the kind who revealed their fresh, wholesome, youthful seriousness to a stranger at the very first meeting. But the one who impressed Don the most was an exquisite girl with the strange name of Lio. His body nearly stammered when he looked at her. She was exotically beautiful, and she was dressed more daringly than the others with an open bottom blouse and very tight shorts. Her manner impressed Don, too. She was very direct, told him at once that she wanted to discuss her qualifications for Blair with him. He liked that. And he liked the way she carried her beautiful body with complete confidence. He could not help thinking erotic thoughts about her, wondering if she had a boy friend, if she was still a virgin, what her national background really was, why she seemed so different than the other girls.
"Well, Professor," Ben said when he finished with the introductions. "This is our little group.
Almost everyone here is interested in Blair. We thought you might honor us with a few words about Blair before we have refreshments and entertainment. We'd all be mighty pleased with any words of advice you care to give us."
"Well, now, that's very generous of you," Don said. "Truly generous. Most youngsters I've encountered hardly have enough time for themselves without having a dried-up professor take it away from them."
"You won't be-I mean, you're not dried-up, Professor," Ben replied. "Not at all. As a matter-of-fact, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we're mighty pleased to find that you're a young man. It kind of makes us have a little more confidence in the people who run the colleges. Isn't that right, kids?"
There were shouts and calls of affirmance. Quickly, not even knowing why he did so, Don turned and looked at Lio to see if she too was accepting him with confidence and as a near-peer. She smiled, but she did not speak out as the others did. But the smile seemed enough.
Ben motioned Don forward. He started slowly, feeling his way along the familiar paths of shouting praise for the college he represented. And soon, he became enthusiastic, as much so as he always did when speaking of Blair State, when telling of the glory of a liberal arts education at a school known for its liberal leanings. Don addressed the group much longer than he had intended. But he became quite carried away and did not bring his speech to an end until he noticed a very decided restlessness among his audience.
"And so, for those of you who can qualify," he ended, "you will find Blair waiting to serve your intellect. You will find too, as I have found throughout the years, that you will feel compelled to also serve Blair-all your life, in everything you do, for, in a way, Blair truly becomes your life."
The applause was generous, so generous that Don wondered for a moment whether it was motivated by true appreciation for his speech, or only because it had ended. But it didn't matter. He was excited, very excited by the bloom of the youthful aspirants for the college he loved.
Don accepted refreshments offered him by the little blonde, Lee. He munched several sloppy-joes. And he accepted a half-filled bottle of Coke. He wondered why it was only half-filled. Oh, well, these unsanitary things sometimes happen at a beach party, he concluded. And while he ate, while he also sipped from the half-filled Coke bottle, Don glanced again and again in the direction of Lio. He carried on limited conversations with the students as he sneaked glances at her. He wished that she would come forward, wished ardently that he might have a chance to be close to her. And the more he ate, the more he drank the liquid in the bottle, the more he felt this way. Finally, he could bear it no longer. He felt very hot, very uncomfortable. Then he decided to do something about his heavy attire. Like a gay undergraduate, he bent and dislodged his socks and shoes. Then he stripped himself of jacket and tie, rolled his sleeves high above his elbows, and opened his shirt until much of his chest was bared to the cool breeze of the night.
"That's right, professor," the girl, Lee, said. "Get comfortable."
"I'm doing just that," he said, laughing, wondering what moved him to that, then not giving a damn because he enjoyed laughing.
Lee took a quick swallow of the drink that she held. Then she giggled. Don was surprised. It seemed out of the character he had composed for such a girl. But it delighted him. Everything seemed suddenly to delight him very much. And he felt other, stronger things than delight. True, hard, and anxious sexuality rippled through his body, made him look at Lee with a glint in his eye, made him feel the heavy thumping of his heart as if he were asserting himself as a man as he had done weeks earlier with another schoolgirl.
"I think you're wonderful," Lee suddenly blurted.
"Oh, do you now," Don replied, breathing deeply, knowing that he was deliberately increasing the size of his bare chest to her.
"Yes, you're not like a professor at all."
"But I am."
"Yes, a nice one, not one of those old meany type teachers we have at Bay High."
Don laughed good naturedly. He thought it was very funny the way she described her teachers. And he very well knew what she meant. Teachers were too stiff and out of touch with their students. They were much too somber and conservative, too-. He stopped and thought of himself. Yes, it was himself he was describing, the man he had always been. Had always been, he repeated to himself. Yes, good, it's in the past, gone forever, indecision, and ambivalence was over, he would be as he wanted, when he wanted, and with whom he wanted, and he would start immediately, nothing would stop him from the fleshy pleasures he wanted to know. And he had the power of his position to allow him to achieve any and all he desired.
"So you want to go to Blair, eh?" Don asked Lee, nudging closer to her, taking another sip from his Coke bottle.
"I want to, but I'm going to have trouble, Professor."
"You are?"
"Yes. You see, my marks are lower than they should be, pretty darn low, in fact."
"Ummmmmmm, that's too bad."
Lee slipped her hand within his arm. "Do you think I'll be rejected, Professor?"
"Rejected, child? You? Of course not. What man in his right mind would reject a pretty one like you? Heavens!"
"I'm talking about Blair, Professor."
"Oh, yes, Blair, you're afraid Blair might not accept you, is that right?"
"Yes, sir," she said demurely, looking to the ground but giving his arm a little squeeze at the same time, a squeeze that brought her firm breast in contact with his arm.
"Well, we'll just have to review your record when school opens tomorrow. We'll review it and see if there's anything we-that I-might be able to do to help you."
She snuggled closer, and Don felt the pressure of her bare thigh against his leg. It burned clear through his trousers. Then he felt a long caress of her breast again as she moved tighter to his arm.
"Do we have to wait until tomorrow to decide?" she asked him. Her voice was low and sultry.
"Well of course, heavens, we can't-." He stopped. The words he spoke were those which came to him naturally, born from years of caution and conventionality.
"We could go somewhere it's quiet and down the beach and talk about it," Lee suggested.
"Of course we could," Don said suddenly. The tone of his voice carried a quality of new resolve, a quality that indicated new determination to mend his conservative ways.
"Oh, good," she breathed passionately.
"But the others-it might seem rude," Don said.
"Rude? Don't be silly. Just look at them."
Don has been so intrigued with Lee, so busy with his thoughts, that he had failed to see that the group had turned animated. There was a murmuring and hustle about the group that seemed very happy. Most of the boys and girls were still drinking from Coke bottles, a few danced to the bongo drum that thumped from some unseen position behind the party scene. And several couples were intimately involved, not promiscuously, but intimate in that a few of them kissed, others stood with their arms locked about each other, and still others traded sweet, almost innocent caresses. Don looked at them and thought how representative they were of all teenagers. But still, there was something different about them, he decided. And the difference was that nearly all of them, especially the girls-even those engaged with boys-looked at him expectantly as if they anticipated some great happening in which he would be involved. It unnerved him for a moment. But only for a moment. Then Lee cuddled close and spoke to him again.
"Come on, Professor," she said. "I know a place among the sand dunes that's nice and private."
"Good," he exclaimed. "Very good, indeed."
Holding tightly to his arm, Lee led him away from the group. Don glanced back, gave a self-conscious wave to no one in particular, then felt completely absurd as he saw Lio watching him. She had a rather sad smile upon her face. It was not directed at him, although she stared at him, but seemed instead to be for all the group, perhaps all the world which she seemed not to approve of at all.
Before they had gone a dozen paces, Lee stopped and looked up at him.
"Better finish your Coke before we get there, Professor," she said. "You've hardly touched it, and you don't want to carry that old bottle with you, now do you?"
"Of course not," he said.
He raised the bottle, swallowed all of the contents, striking the pose of a cowboy at the tough town saloon. Then he threw the bottle to the side.
He had hardly moved another half dozen steps when he felt a slight burning sensation at his stomach. Then it traveled lower and struck at his loins. He felt very hot. And Lee's body, still cuddled close to him, felt hot too. He knew the cause. It was the girl, he decided, her nearness and desirability that made him feel this strange sweep of sexuality. Yet, if she were not close to him, if he didn't know better, he would have sworn that he had just finished off an entire bottle of liquor. But he knew that it was not liquor that he had taken. It had to be the girl. He was glad that she was near, very glad, so glad that he wanted to leap and yelp with joy as he proclaimed to the world his hot, new desires for seduction of all the girls in the school, the country, the world and the great beyond.
By the time they reached the high sand dunes that Lee had designated as the place for their conference, Don was so beside himself with yearning for the girl's delightful body that he was close to whipping her to him, wrestling her to the ground, then taking her forcefully. But he did not. She turned and smiled at him, and he knew that force was not necessary, that Lee, applicant for Blair State, was prepared to discuss her qualifications in the terms of her body's ability.
She breathed deeply and Don could see one nipple come to exposure above her slim bra top. It seemed very well trained, as if she had taught it the delicacy of timing and presentation.
"You'll let me go to Blair, won't you?" she asked sweetly. She raised one hand and lightly touched at his bare chest. Her fingers burned him the same as if they carried hot coals.
"Why are you so set on Blair?" he asked, beginning to enjoy the game of tease himself.
"Lots of reasons," she said. "It's the best possible place to find a husband who will be rich and successful."
"Ummmmmmm, that's true," he said. "Very true, indeed."
"And you'll approve my application, won't you?"
"I might."
"Just might?"
"Yes. Of course I'll have to-to study you a bit."
"I don't mind that at all," she declared.
Don held his arms out to her. It seemed for a moment as if he moved by some inner force, that he was willed to reach for the girl by some instrument of his being that was stronger than his mind, his well trained, formerly conservative mind. And he felt a fantastic stir of desire within him. He felt heat imprison him, swamp him and prepare to suffocate him if he did not that very moment know the closeness of the young body of Lee.
She crashed herself against him. Her hips immediately thrusted forward and Don did the same until they made a nest of their thighs that seemed to cradle and make ready a place for their love.
Don found her tongue strong tasting and very thrilling. It had the taste of some foreign substance that he was sure would escape identification by the best equipped laboratory. He groaned and held her tighter. His mouth hungered so madly at her mouth that their teeth clashed. But that sharpness was compensated for by the warm, soft cuddling of their thighs.
He breathed a long sigh into her mouth. Then he clamped his hands hard to her ass. He pinched, he kneaded, he patted and held and released then pinched and gripped again and again. And all the time he received her tongue, received it, took it, nibbled and drew and drained upon it as if it were the vessel of life itself. His body trembled. He tensed.
"Ohhh, Professor," she whispered. "Oh, Professor, you're-you're-wonderful!"
He brought one hand from her buttocks to a large and willing tit. He closed his fingers upon it, then whispered, "And so are you, Lee. So are you. You're so ... fuckable!"
Their mouths met and they strained together until at last they could strain no more. They collapsed to the sand and immediately wound themselves with the other's arms.
Don had no precedent for the moment. The only young love that he could recall was that which he had shared with the girl, Lisa, and that had been accomplished in the cramped and restrictive quarters of a car. Now he was as wild and as free as the air. He delighted in it. He stretched very long until he was like a ramrod against the soft girl. They kissed again and Don became infused with new raging passion, greater strength, more desire.
He pushed Lee to her back, brought one hand up, gripped her bra, then jerked it from her body.
Her tits bulged forward as she cried, "Oh, you're rough. Real rough. But I like that. Kick me in the cunt!"
He got rougher. He buried his face to her breasts, went between them as if they were pillows among which he longed to suffocate. He burrowed and kissed and swept them with his tongue. He bit hard at the nipples, then tenderly caressed them, held them in his lips and lolled them there. And as he worked upon her body, as he grew more expert and more driven by the growing desires within him, Lee began to moan and whimper and cry. The sounds inflamed Don even more. He kissed lower upon her body, shook his head madly as he bestowed kisses at her belly. And then he wanted more. Patience and delicacy were at an end. He gripped her shorts at the waist band and gave a mighty jerk.
They loosened as her body arched to him, then relaxed to the sand once again. He jerked again and the material ripped and came free.
"Ohh, you're great," Lee whispered. "Just great. So rough and strong and manly. So ... so-everything."
Don rose on his knees and looked down at the new whiteness he had exposed.
"Kiss me again-harder and lower," Lee whined as she arched her hips high. "Kiss my cunt-eat me!"
Don bowed and had just begun the first brush of his lips against her flesh when noises from behind him shot him upright. He turned.
Two girls, both of them naked, both laughing and talking together in happy, crazy tones, moved down from the top of the sand dune toward Lee and Don.
Lee raised and looked in the direction of his eyes. She laughed, then said, "We've got company, buster-I mean, Professor."
"Buster is all right," he said, staring at the thrill of the new bare bodies approaching them. "Who are they? I didn't see them with the group."
"You did," Lee giggled. "But you just don't recognize them now."
As they drew nearer, Don did indeed recognize them. One was the Negro girl, Tina. She was minus her long, terry cloth robe. The other girl was of the large, freckled body and flaming red hair. They both looked very exciting to Don. And they seemed excited themselves, different than when he had seen them with the others. Fleetingly, he wondered if they were drunk, then he had the remembrance of his own drink taken from the Coke bottle. No, they couldn't be drunk, he decided. But they were definitely stimulated in some strange way. And he was glad because he, too, was stimulated, was at a high, high pitch from which he hoped he might never descend.
"Hi, kiddies, having fun?" Tina asked, stopping before them. Then she said, "Professor, you remember Mae here, don't you?"
Don looked at the large, beautifully shaped body and said, "Yes, I remember Mae all right."
"Goodie. We came to see you about our applications for Blair. We want to go over our qualifications with you, Professor."
"Oh, I want you to do just that," Don said, becoming more excited as he looked at the divine, chocolate body of Tina, at the way her nipples seemed hard as bullets, the way her tits were high and rounded.
Red-haired Mae giggled, then scooted her naked body close to Don, as she sat down. Tina, with a light laugh seated herself at the other side of him.
"Hey, this isn't fair," Lee exclaimed. "I haven't been alone with him at all.
"So, what the hell," said Tina. "We're just one big happy family anyway."
"Sure we are," agreed Mae.
Tina turned her shoulders toward Don. She pointed her big, dark breasts at him. Then she leaned forward a bit until her nipples struck at his bare chest.
"Oh, man, you're hot," she said. "You damn near burned me."
"No wonder," Mae said. "He's too well dressed."
"I was just about to take care of that," Lee told them.
Tina smiled vividly and Don looked into her eyes as she leaned forward and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt. Then she swept it from his shoulders. Before it even landed on the sand, Mae became busy at his trousers. She un-zipped them, then tugged at them until they came free. She dropped them at the side. And now it was Lee's turn.
"At least you left the best for me," she said.
She pulled at the waistband of his shorts. He raised a bit and allowed her to slowly pull them from his body.
He straightened and thought how wonderful it was that he wasn't the least bit self-conscious about his nudity, that he was even proud of it just as the girls were proud of their own bare bodies.
Tina scooted her hips a bit so that she directly faced. Don. Then Mae moved a bit to the side and Lee took a place on the other side of him. He was surrounded by their nakedness. He looked from one to the other, then back again, then around at all of them with a quick sweep of his eyes. Don couldn't imagine anything so glorious as being surrounded by these delightful girls. It was almost too much to wish for, yet he was the recipient of their bodies.
Mae leaned forward and cupped his face with her hands. Then she kissed him, shooting her tongue deeply into his mouth.
Don jolted with reaction. He reached out and gripped one of her large tits, then remembering all that was presented to him, he reached with the other hand and fondled at Tina's breast. He mentally compared them, tried to think of the difference. He was very conscious of holding the breasts of two different girls, one with each of his hands, while Mae continued to explore his mouth with her hot tongue.
And then he could stand no more. He raged. His blood boiled over and he had to find its cooling.
He broke his mouth away from Mae's. He released her breast and brought that hand, too, to Tina's body. Then he pushed to his knees, shouted a yell of desire and forced her to the ground.
"Hey, you're wild," she said as she immediately rolled to her back.
"Yeah, wild-lucky you," Mae said unhappily.
"But there's enough for all of us tonight," Lee declared.
Their words were a mere mumble of nonsense behind Don as he adjusted to Tina's arching body. He needed no guidance. He did not need encouragement. Nothing-absolutely nothing-could stop him.
He lurched at the dark, rising body, found it, then lurched again as Tina moaned a long call of passion as his cock hit home. Then he felt her hands gently caressing at the small of his back as he plunged faster and harder and longer and again and again to the churning, bouncing, hot and anxious colored girl. He tried to think of difference and comparison again, tried to orient himself along the lines of sex and race to determine if there was a difference in passion and giving. But he could not concentrate upon comparisons. He could only lurch from side to side in a sign of fast mounting passion. And Don's approach speeded too. He felt a special spot of heat increase at his loins and at the small of his back. He increased the frantic lurching of his body. But when it seemed that he was near his end, that he could not stop, he was forced to halt and take another.
Tina writhed under him as he continued to rock her body with a demented, savage pounding attack. His prick was big and thick, and the teenage girl realized that she wasn't dealing with a boy who shoved it in and came after two strokes. Don's attack was prolonged and violent, and Tina's cunt was beginning to glow from the fury of his savage fuck.
He dropped his head to her tits and sucked one into his mouth. The nipple came erect immediately and Tina put her hand behind his head, forcing his face down into her tit, flattening out her great rounded mass of dark flesh. The taste of the negress was exciting Don to the breaking point, but he knew that he was going to see it through and fuck all these girls before he came-he wanted to show them what a fuck was.
The thought of the three girls, all there to do nothing but fuck him until he wanted no more was very exciting to Don. He'd dreamed of things like this ever since his teenage days, and now it was all true; he'd finally found the depraved, wanton chicks who crowded his dreams. Their gleaming, juicy cunts were all his, even if it was only for the evening.
His prick continued to swell as he sucked on Tina's tit and thought about what life was going to be like at Blair State when all these little cunts arrived. He'd have them at his place as often as he could, inviting them over for a drink and then fucking them until he was too tired to continue, having them suck him off and eating their sweet cunts.
"Hey, that's enough damn it," Mae shouted.
Tina, obviously a good friend, wrestled her body free of Don's. She sat up, panting hard as she rolled her body out of the way and said, "All right, next, but hurry, girl, hurry. I want back there-fast."
Mae stumbled to the spot where Tina had been beneath Don's raging body. She arched. She held tightly to his neck, then she dug her fingernails into his flesh and screamed a long, eerie cry of pleasure as he lurched to this new body, this white body, this body that was an extension of the chocolate sister who had only seconds earlier bounded beneath him.
He moved with even faster, stronger fury. And Mae was different only that she brought innovation to her movement. She shifted her hips in a circle and from side to side at every meeting, every parting. And Mae was faster in her growing passion. Before they had moved a half dozen times together she began the short, choked cries of an approaching end. It excited Don greatly, made him move with even greater drive. And, although the pleasure was for him, too, he was content to wait, was confident of his control and knew that he could lash each girl to her satisfaction before he himself had to know his end.
Mae's body rumbled quickly to her finish. She lurched high and held for a moment while she whined new, wild cries, then her hips bounded downward and upward again until she was a blaze of moving flesh. And her fingernails locked into Don's back, dug deeply, then ripped.
She thrusted upward a final time, held, ground for a moment, choked her last cry, then went exhausted on the sand, away from him to roll to her side. She sobbed passionately the song of her great, great pleasure.
And then before he truly knew it, Tina was beneath him again and he was continuing the giving of his body, that great, strong bequest that had tortured Mae into spasm of pleasure and now would do the same for the Negro girl. And he did. He pounded hard. She answered the might of his call by a great rising and grinding of her dark hips. And then she snuggled closer, locked her legs around his waist and pressured with all her strength as her eyes rolled, as her mouth opened to allow her tongue to peek, then droop, then point and grow hard as she hissed the last call of her release.
She uttered short cries, then she shouted obscenities, locked her legs tighter, fought closer as if she wished to drain him, then suddenly could do no more for she had been ripped apart with feeling. Her cunt ran raw with her own come.
She screamed until the sound dribbled into a whisper of satisfied completion.
Don straightened as Tina rolled away from him and took a place at the side of Mae who still whimpered the sounds of after-thrill. He raised his head to the sky and felt for all the world as if he were powerful enough to sear the stars. He hit his chest furiously as he waited for Lee, she who had been first and was now last, to ready herself for his final assault.
She crawled across the sand to where the others had been. She had withdrawn her shorts and was now nude like her friends. But, unlike them, Lee presented a different view for Don's fast taking. She stopped in front of him, then still on her hands and knees, she turned.
Don did not question her desires. He gripped her and lunged, giving no measure of mercy to her tiny, rosebud asshole.
Near the end, Don reached forward. One hand grasped her breasts and bunched them both together in his fingers. He leaned even closer as he moved, supported by his grip upon her breasts and his other hand which was stiffened into the sand. And then the rockets burst as both he and Lee did the same. His mouth jerked forward, found the flesh of her shoulder, then bit hard, holding on for dear life as he joined her fast movement in the crashing torment of their final efforts.
And then he, too, was completed and exhausted. He, like the girls, rolled to the cool sand for refreshing. He stayed there for what seemed a very long time.
When finally he opened his eyes and sat up, he looked around. The beach was absent of the bare bodies of the three girls who had received his mighty lust. But as he turned and looked to the side, he saw another. It gave him a weird feeling. The figure was quite tall and very quiet. Her hair reached to her waist and her body looked moulded in moonlight as she stared at the nakedness of Don.
He tensed, then called happily, "Lio, Lio, you've come to me, haven't you?"
She did not answer. She continued to stare at him and Don realized that by some crazy pattern of fortune he had quickly come to want the girl Lio more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. She was so strange, so beautiful, so wildly sexual, yet so reserved and withholding of that sexuality which he longed to pierce. Looking at her, he felt new passion rage throughout his body and as he felt it he knew the new rise of his strength.
He straightened, "Lio, Lio. What do you want?"
She moved toward him and finally stopped in front of him. She looked into his eyes, then at all of his bare body, then to his eyes once again.
Finally, in a low, husky voice, she said, "I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk about Blair. Truly talk about Blair-I mean. But since I have nothing to offer you like the others, I'll just leave."
"You have everything to offer me, Lio," he told her. "This fast-I know that I want what you have to offer."
"But I'm not offering it, Professor," she said. "I'm not offering it, or even discussing it with you."
She turned and walked away. Don watched the sway of her tight shorts clad hips. He watched her movement which seemed like an exotic dance. He saw flashes of strange, brown-yellow skin at the bottom of her blouse as the breeze caught it and moved it. And as he watched her, he knew that he would do anything to have her, that he had to have her, that, in some strange complexity of life, if she was more than any of the others who was deemed the one to compensate him for all the long, dry, dull periods of his life.
His heart beat fast. He was tense and excited again. He had been made that way by the girl's few words, her appearance, the strange reserve that was hers. He wondered what it would be like when he found a way to crack through it. And he had to. Simply had to, or he would perish.
CHAPTER SIX
Don awoke with a start and looked around his small room at the Bay City Hotel. Remnants of a dream remained and his heart still thudded heavily, but as he looked out the window and saw that it was already early morning, calm came to him and he crawled out of his tousled bed.
He had left the party of the Bay City High School students with a deep regret that he had felt the rejection of the unusual girl, Lio. But, even with this rejection, he had left the young people feeling strong and virile and anxious for every sexual encounter that he could arrange. Gone was her conservative attitudes. Gone, too, was worry over the consequences that any of his new decisions might cause.
When Don left his bed, he walked naked across the floor to the small window. He looked down at the main street of the small town. No one stirred. It was quiet. He turned and looked at the clock on the dresser and saw that it was only five in the morning, an incredible time for him to be arising. Yet, he felt rested and refreshed as much as if he had enjoyed a full night's sleep. He smiled, thinking that this was the result of sexual satisfaction, of his decision to partake of all that he could find.
And the previous night, after arriving back at the hotel after the beach party, he had not immediately retired. He was inclined to pursue a subject he had for many weeks investigated, so he had gone to his books and delved once more into the mysteries of the sexuality of the very early ages.
Don turned from the window and went to the small desk that stood in the comer of the room. He looked at the stacks of books upon it. He put his hand on the top book which rested above a half dozen others. Then he opened it and leafed through the erotic pages he had already reviewed many, many times. And as he did so, he felt a return of the same sexual strength he had known the previous night with the teenage girls.
He slammed the book shut, his decision instantly made. He turned from the desk and walked to the closet. He whipped a robe from a hanger, put it on, then jammed his feet into slippers. Then he shuffled to the desk again and picked up a book. He shut the door quietly, then moved down the corridor to the exit sign at the end. He took the stairs to the next lower floor and made his way past the closed doors until he came to the room of Cass Bigelow. He hesitated a moment, looked around, then lightly rapped on the door.
Don knocked once more, then waited several long seconds before the door edged open. Her blonde head popped outside and her eyes rounded in surprise when she saw Don, dressed in bathrobe and slippers and with a book tucked beneath his arm as casually as if he were appearing at a lecture class.
"Good morning," he said cheerily.
"Good-. Don! Do you know what time it is?"
"Of course, it's a little after five." He stopped, and for a second looked quite embarrassed. "Oh say, I am sorry, I didn't even consider that you might not be up."
She smiled, then said, "I am now. Come on in."
Cass opened the door fully and stood just behind it as Don entered the room. It was very dark and Don remained still while Cass glided away from him to the desk where she flicked on a low light.
Then Don had a full view of the beautiful young college instructor. She looked amazingly sexual for so early an hour in the morning. Although obviously awakened by the surprise of his knock on her door, she seemed more pleased than upset. And she looked rumpled in the sweetest way; like tangled sheets that still held the musty scent of love making. Her hair was a mass of gold-glinting ringlets. She wore a shortie nightie that ended high at her thighs, and her body was plainly visible beneath it. Don looked at that body and thought of his own, nude except for the robe that covered it. Then he thought how deliriously youthful it seemed for both of them to be so lightly covered, for them to have the pure nakedness of their bodies so close. Her breasts looked sleepy. The nipples had not yet joined the rest of her wakefulness. They thrusted slightly as if trying to decide to come fully erect. But Don could see that the rest of her body looked very much alive. Her legs sloped prettily, the thighs firmly descending to her good, strong legs. And her hips rounded outwardly, making quarter-moon shapes below her flat belly where her navel trembled slightly.
For a moment, it looked as if Cass deliberated the choice of securing a heavier robe or remaining as she was, fully and sexually revealed to Don. Then she sighed and said, "I suppose it's a silly question to ask, but what brings you out so early this morning? And what especially brings you to me, my friend?"
"I awakened early and wanted to see you," he said, walking closer to her.
"How flattering," she smiled. "And I suppose that's why you brought a book along-because you want to see me. "
The sight of her body had made Don forget the book he carried. He raised it and laughed, then said, "Oh, this, it's just something I wanted to discuss with you if you felt like it."
"Books, I hardly feel like this early in the morning, Don."
He held the thick book up again, then said, "This one concerns the sexual perversions of primitive tribes."
She brightened. "Oh, now that's different. Something like that I just might be in the mood for, even at this hour." She paused and looked at him interestedly, then added, "How did the party go last night?"
"Quite well," he said. "These youngsters were an interesting group."
"I bet," she said with heavy over-tones. "I wanted to go there but my host simply would not let me go."
"Too bad," he said, shaking his head. "You would have enjoyed the beach party."
Cass turned, making a swirl of the bottom of her nightie which caused a quick-flashing, full revelation of her buttocks. She moved to a desk near the window. Then she took a cigarette from a package, place it between her lips, and looked around for a match. Finally, she spied a package on the dresser near Don.
Don turned, then picked up the package of matches and hurried across the room to strike a light for her.
Cass held his hand as she accepted the flame. And as she leaned forward she managed to allow her heavy breasts a close touch to his elbow.
Don felt the contact and was ready that very moment to grab her, embrace her hard, then wrestle her to the floor where he could overpower her. But he did not. He merely bumped his arm in a return pat to her breasts as she inhaled and drew back.
The slight contact caused a look of pleasant surprise to come to her eyes. They narrowed as they looked at Don.
"Cass," he said sharply and directly. "I've been doing some unusual studying lately. It's resulted in many things. Or rather, my study has resulted from some astonishing things that have been happening to me-that have really changed my life and my attitude about it."
"How interesting," she said. "Why don't we sit down so you can tell me about it, Don?"
"Excellent idea," he said.
Cass walked ahead of him to a small couch that rested at the opposite end of the room. As she seated herself, Don walked over and took a seat next to her.
"Now this book is from a private edition," Don said, lifting the heavy volume. "I had quite a time getting it, but it's been amazingly interesting. And Cass, I just wondered if you've had any experience-I mean, have you ever studied any of the patterns of man's early sexual history."
"Quite a bit, as a matter-of-fact," she told him.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"You mean you know about all the different schemes men used to devise in order to obtain different and more intense sexual satisfaction?"
"I do," she said. She took a deep drag on her cigarette.
"Well, my word."
"It's really not so surprising, Don," she laughed. After all, we're not very much different today than other civilizations were. The difference is mainly because today we keep our sex drives-and practices-concealed, while the other civilizations openly displayed them, even had public displays of all types of sexual experiences."
"You feel that, too?" he asked, turning and edging a little closer to her.
"Certainly."
"Amazing," he declared. "That's exactly the conclusion I've come to after considerable study on the subject."
Cass smashed out her cigarette in an ash tray at her side. Then she turned and curled her legs beneath her buttocks, moving in a way that encouraged the lift of her nightie, the lowering of her bodice.
Don, more than any look of hers, could testify to the excitement that he felt. And he felt very warm. And at the same time his mind buzzed with dozens of fantasies, fantasies that had eluded him most of his life. And all of the fantasies seemed quite real and workable. And he felt again the refreshment of the decisions that had so recently brought him the pleasure, the driving joy, of wild, female bodies thrashing beneath the strength of his masculinity.
"Some of the early people even liked whippings," Don said, looking anxious but maintaining a tone of matter-of-factness.
"It's odd that you should mention that particular thing," Cass said.
"It is?"
"Yes. You see, that's something I know quite a bit about."
"It is?" he questioned again.
She smiled, swung her legs to the floor, then pushed upright. She glanced at Don once, then went to a large suitcase that she had stored in the closet. She rummaged through it for a few seconds, then withdrew that which she sought and turned back toward Don.
"My word," Don exclaimed, moving to the edge of the couch as he saw the short, but thick, black whips Cass held, one in each hand.
She walked toward him, dragging the ends of the whips behind her like two devil's tails.
She paused immediately in front of him, then said, "You see, I had a friend once-a very good friend, and he-well, he had a problem that was really not much of a problem at all."
Don tensed, but did not fill the pause that Cass had made.
"My friend loved to be whipped," she continued. "It was his great, great pleasure. But because it was against society's code-society's phony code-he was a nervous wreck. You see, he could not live with his desire to be whipped and his society manufactured conscience that told him it was abnormal. Finally, he broke altogether and the last I heard he's still residing in a mental institution."
"Amazing," Don exclaimed.
"Yes. Amazing. But only because he was a damn fool to mentally object to that which he physically demanded."
Don, staring at Cass, seeing her body out-lined through the thin, short nightie, watching her breasts rise and fall and her stomach pinch inward and outward, and noticing the slight quiver that became noticeable at her thighs, was sure that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered. And, incredibly, the sight of the black whips held in her hands added to her beauty, made her seem more pagan and wild and with greater lust than he imagined she could contain.
Don moved to the very edge of the couch and looked up at her. "Cass-have you ever-been whipped?"
"Yes." She looked directly into his eyes.
"Did you-like it?"
"Yes."
"A lot?"
"Not as much as some things. But more than other kinds of sex I've experienced." . "Would you-? Could-? I wonder if you'd let me-."
Cass reached her right hand out and presented him with the thick handle of one of the whips. Don took it. He lifted it, felt its smooth handle, the roundness of it and its weight. And he thought how much it was like a man, even like himself that very instant; heavy, hard, very, very capable, and he wondered if it was this that made flagellation so exciting for some people, if perhaps, by symbol and extension, the whip became part of the man, a long, hard, superhuman part of a superman who used his sex's symbol for the destruction of others.
Cass, stepping backwards, her eyes glued to Don, moved to the center of the room.
Slowly, Don pushed up from the couch. He moved a few steps closer to Cass, then stopped as she struck a lurid pose. She dropped her whip to the floor and threw her head back a bit, raised on her toes, brought her hands beneath her breasts to cup them, then tensed all of her body toward Don.
He drew the whip back. Then he lashed it forward. It sung a whistling tune for an instant before it nicked Cass across the tit. Her body jerked from the impact, but she did not cry out. Her hand dropped from that breast and Don could see that the whip had seared the light material of her gown and that her breast stuck out from the jagged edges as if it were escaping from casual imprisonment. He lashed the whip forward again. It struck her on the same breast and a short, ragged line bubbled with blood. Don changed the direction of his singing whip. With an expertness that he almost disbelieved, he brought the whip hard against her shoulder, snipping her shoulder strap in two. It dropped to beneath her other tit. Then Don struck that breast hard, slicing painfully across the nipple, making it pop bruised looking as it drooped. Then he struck with a snapping series of blows that tore at her hips, her breasts again, her belly where her nightie severed into halves and fell apart and away from her body, leaving her total bareness as his target. He struck furiously at her thighs, cutting them, and as he struck her there, Don felt disposed to move closer, to bestow upon this beauty his love, his hate, his anger, his respect-everything that any man could feel for a woman, or all women.
Now, as she received each new blow from his whip, her body shuddered and jerked, but it came not alone from the whip's sting but was motivated in part by the excitement that gathered within her. She felt her breasts crushed, and enjoyed that crushing, that nipple-bending abuse. Her body shook. Her mouth gaped open and her tongue began to work feverishly against her lips as if she were parched and dying. But it was life that she felt, new life, exciting life, the thrill that life was made of, the very thrill that created life, herself and Don and all the world. And the whip struck her cruelly and she gasped.
It struck again and she moaned the long wail of trembling urgency. And then she sobbed and cried out, demanded more of the whip, more of anything and everything that Don would give her.
He gave her the whip. At her breasts again, across her belly, at her thighs again and again, then the final, underhanded cutting at those thighs that made her body ripple even as it bled, that made it thrust toward him even as it was struck backward with the whip, that made her both seek and evade the stinging end of the whip each time it lashed cuttingly across her body. And at last, when Don shortened his blows so that they could rain continually against her thighs, Cass erupted with a scream, with a great, frantic final shuddering of her body that bloated her, then diminished her in exhaustion.
Don dropped the whip and stood perfectly still as he watched her final spasms of hurtful delight. Her reaction seemed to begin at her toes, ripple through all of her body, become a heavy tide of feeling at her thighs, then shoot upward to surge at her breasts, enlarge and strengthen them, then move onward to her shoulders and neck until at last it flushed her face and was gone.
No words passed between them as calm came to Cass. Don watched as the flush left her face to be replaced by a faint smile. Then his heart thumped even heavier as she picked up the whip she had dropped and walked over to him.
"Now you, darling," she said in a thick, husky tone.
Don did not hestitate. He dropped his whip and walked to where Cass had stood in the center of the room. Anxiously, he whipped his robe from his body and stood very straight.
He waited expectantly, without thoughts for anything but how it might feel when he felt the first lash of the stinging, singing whip. And then he knew.
Her tits bounced wildly and bloody as she brought the whip far behind her then lashed it forward. It struck Don at the chest.
He felt the sting, and liked it. He felt strength come to him as if the whip were igniting him, rather than abusing him. It struck him at the waist, low across his thighs, at his knees and legs. But he did not diminish, he did not fall, he did not and could not fail before the whip's biting end. It lashed him again and again, but he remained erect and strong, proud, even a little overbearing because of all that he endured, all that he felt.
Her body became a flying mass of erotic flesh as she brought the whip to him again and again and again. He felt his blood warm, even as it oozed from his body. And he felt the massing of a gigantic regiment of feeling readying for release. But it did not come. It remained damned and unmovable. But hope for fulfillment soared as he watched her moving, lashing body. And with it came the realization that he must do something for that lovely, blood-smeared body, do for it some semblance of that which he was receiving.
Don lurched forward even as the whip continued to lash against him. At her feet, he bent. She, as if sensing his desire, arched deeply and extended one long leg out to him. The sole of her foot barely brushed the floor. Her toes were pointed. Her leg was taut.
As she lashed the whip down for the first time across his back, his body convulsed and he lifted her foot and kissed it. She lashed him again and he buried his mouth to her instep. He kissed her rapturously, just as passionately as the sting of the whip was to his body. And as the cutting whip came to his back again and again he kissed ever harder until at last that which he was giving merged with his beating and relieved him as his body shuddered mightily and he bit into her foot to find a grip that might sustain him during the raging, shattering, earing, eruption of his body.
Don had expected that he would experience self-consciousness and shame once Cass and he had finished with the whips. But it was not so. Instead, a great, carefree happiness took them both.
They went to the shower like children embarking upon a bold and forbidden adventure. They washed and soothed each others cuts and bruises. They massaged themselves, and each other, and as they shared the crash of the water, Don felt again the rustle of desire, the deep, sincere wish to know Cass wholly and perfectly in a normal act of love. He knew, too, that everything else, all aberrations, were really this-a defense against the thrill of normal loving.
The thought made him feel very good, rather placed normalcy in a place not too far from his own realizations.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was the day after the beach party that Lio presented herself to her high school counselor for a preview of her record before it was to be presented to Professor Don Haywood for his decision as to her worthiness for admission to Blair State.
Lio had left her counselor feeling deeply despondent. Although high, her marks left considerable doubt as to whether she would be admitted to the highly reputed college. In her entrance examinations, Lio had scored high in languages and the social sciences, but pathetically low in the physical sciences which were a necessary prerequisite for Blair admission. She left her counselor's office feeling more miserable than any time she had known during the four years she had lived in the United States.
Lio jumped into the small car she was allowed to use by her uncle, with whom she lived since arriving in Bay City. She drove quickly to her home at the far, eastern edge of the small town.
After she pulled the car into the drive and shut off the motor, Lio continued for a few minutes to sit behind the steering. She sighed deeply, then boosted her hips a bit, freeing her long, black hair which had somehow become lodged between her buttocks and the car seat. She breathed deeply. She thought of Blair State and her great desire to attend that college. She thought of her obligation to all her Pacific Island people, an obligation that drove her to a mad pursuit of success. And she knew that the success she must attain had to start with Blair State.
Her mind wandered. She thought of her friends at Bay City High. She wished that she was not different from them. But she was. She could not help it. It was her heritage. She could not attend school and college for the mere enjoyment of it. She had to use it for the success she was deemed to achieve. She breathed deeply, felt her breasts puff against the simple dress she wore. Then she looked at her bare legs which were exposed high to the thigh. She considered the odd yellow-brown color of them, that, and the narrow-eyed association that always accompanied any consideration of color and race. Lio did not object to her background of the mixed races who had commingled on warm, ocean islands generations before she was created. She was proud of her people, those who still existed and all those who had preceded her. Yet, there were things about her background, customs to which she still submitted, that sometimes made her wonder if all of her people's beliefs were right. She thought of her uncle, that yellow-skinned, middle-aged man with whom she lived. She shivered slightly. Sometimes she wished she could avoid her uncle, especially avoid all those old customs he still insisted upon. Lio looked at her uncle's house with a certain fear. But, she reminded herself that it was now also her home and that she must enter it, even if she often wished that she need not do so. And again she thought of Blair State, how it not only offered the education that was imperative to her, but how it also offered her escape from the customs of her people particularly those ancient rituals still practiced by her uncle.
Slowly, Lio left the car. She walked to the back of the house and entered it by the kitchen door.
The odor of freshly cooked herb-foods and incense greeted her, announcing that her uncle was already home from the import store he operated. She paused in the center of the kitchen and considered leaving the house, returning to school or finding someone to be with in order to have a brief respite form those things in which she would soon become involved. And again she wished that she was not different, that her life, which was secret, was not, but was instead like those of her friends-open, "Is that you, Lio?" a deep, male voice called from the adjoining room.
"Yes, Uncle, it is I."
"Fine. You're home from school early. Come in here, child"
Lio walked to the small dining room, then through it to the tiny study that adjoined it.
Her uncle turned from his desk when she paused in the doorway. She looked at him and smiled.
"Ah, I'm glad that you're home early, Lio," her uncle said. "I, too, returned early from the store, hoping that I would find you here."
"You wanted to see me, Uncle?" Lio questioned.
He grinned. His complexion was more yellowish than that of Lio, and he was quite tall and very heavily built. This effect, his coloring and size, made his grin seem somehow evil.
"Of course I wanted to see you," he said. "Don't I always?"
"Yes, Uncle."
"Have you been a good girl, Lio? Are you keeping away from the corruption of your new country friends?" He asked the questions in a way that suggested that it was part of a ritual frequently participated between the two of them.
"Yes, Uncle," she answered. "I'm remaining uncorruptible."
"You're certain of this?" he asked sternly "You were at a party on the beach with many young people the other evening. Were you pure then, too, Lio?"
"Yes," she replied, a note of tiredness in he tone.
"That is good," he said smiling, clapping hi hands together in a little motion of glee. "That is good because it is as important as life. You are sixteen, should your purity be changed, we both know that it could mean your life, don't we child?"
"Yes, Uncle, it could mean my life," she said, repeating the words which were obviously well practiced.
Lio moved into the study. Her body swayed Her breasts jiggled lightly against the bodice o her light, spring dress. And as she moved she was very aware that her uncle was watching every ripple of her body, every inch of it as if he had a thousand eyes.
"You're cooking more of the herb-foods aren't you, Uncle?" Lio asked.
"Yes. Aren't you glad?"
She hesitated, then said, "I'm glad because you seem to enjoy them so much."
"And you should enjoy them too. They are an important part of our past, a part that other nations have not yet taken from us."
"And you're cooking them just for us?" she asked.
"No. I have some friends from the import stores joining us. They should be with us soon."
She bowed her head, but did not answer.
Her uncle stood up, then said, "Come. We'll share a small dish of herb-flake together and it will help prepare you to be receptive to our guests."
Lio bowed again, a bit deeper, as if this more pronounced homage was due at this particular moment of their ritual. Her uncle motioned with one hand. Lio turned and preceded him to the kitchen.
As she moved, Lio felt her kinsman's eyes upon the rippling movement of her body. She wore a shift that was reminiscent of sarongs and hot, sandy beaches, of moonlight and the ocean waves cascading to tree-topped islands. Her uncle insisted that she wear shifts as frequently as possible for it was the one Western style that still maintained a touch of their homeland. Lio knew how her body appeared to him as she walked ahead of him. She knew that the dress creased at the sides and that her buttocks rolled beneath it, that it gave flashing sights and caused provocative thoughts about her legs, which were bare and long striding. She knew, too, that the back of the dress, cut in a wide dive from each shoulder, told the story of her trembling, nipple-erect breasts which were unseen but which nevertheless shouted their vitality.
In the kitchen, her uncle immediately seated himself at a small table. Although he was dressed in the dark suit of a business man, he gave the illusion of one waiting in silken robes to be served by his native mistress.
Lio brought two small bowls of substance that was hot, white, and in thin flakes. She placed one of the bowls in front of her uncle, the other at her place opposite him. Then she placed a wooden spoon for each of them upon the table.
They ate silently, as if this, too, was the custom in her uncle's home. Lio tasted the flakes that she knew so well and felt happy to receive them. She knew that soon she would be without care for the difference of herself, that she would no longer wish to be like her American friends, that she would be so deeply enthralled with the habits of her own people that she would not care about anything else-not until the day was past and she once again reflected upon all the matters that concerned her.
Exactly as they finished their foreign dish, as if by prearrangement, a light knock sounded at the front door.
"Our friends have arrived," her uncle announced. "I will greet them. You may make yourself ready in the upstairs room."
Lio lowered her eyes, placed the wooden spoon neatly on the saucer that held the bowl, then slowly rose from her chair. She waited as her uncle left the table and went to answer the call of his friends, then she moved from the kitchen to the stairs that led to the upstairs.
As she ascended the carpeted stairs Lio noticed that she was already feeling the effects of her native food. She felt a murmur at her loins as she moved, a kind of wild and free call that beckoned her to abandon. And as she felt it she thought fleetingly of Don Haywood, how, if she had felt such abandon during the beach party, her acceptance at Blair State would already be assured. And then she remembered the childhood vows her kinsmen had invoked upon her and she knew their strength, how they had made her pure and untouched by Western men. She knew, too, that this was the reason that she had not hurried to join with him as had her friends. But, as she thought of him, she reminded herself that Don Haywood and Blair State were her only means of escape from a past that was generations old but still bound her as securely as any slave was ever bound.
By the time she reached the top of the stairs, all such thoughts left her mind. Her mind was a vacuum except for those immediate matters that called to her.
She entered a large room that had once been intended for a master bedroom. It was not that now, however. The room was long and minus furniture except for thick, fluffy cushions that set in casual patterns about the floor. At the end of the room, there was a full wall sized cabinet. At the other end of the room there were only two small cocktail-type tables upon which small bowls of incense burned.
Lio stopped at the entrance of the room. Her nostrils quivered as the type of incense that was burning told her exactly what was to be expected of the evening. Her eyes narrowed. There was a very noticeable ripple of her shift at the area of her thighs. She moved across the room toward the large cabinet, wondering, not seriously but only casually because of the herb food, who the guests might be this time. There had been so many of them throughout the years that she doubted if she would recognize any of them. They were a blur of indistinguishable faces and bodies.
Lio had just turned the knob on the closet when a slight shuffling of sound told her that her uncle and his guests had joined her. She turned.
Her uncle smiled sweetly. So did his guests. Both guests were tall, hard, very masculine looking men. And, like the uncle, although they wore business suits, they seemed remote from them much as if they had suddenly been taken from a native land and placed unwillingly in the attire of others. Both of them also had the darker-brown-yellowish complexion of Lio's uncle, darker than her own but enough the same to designate them as near-members of the same, far Pacific race.
Lio turned toward her uncle and the guests and bowed to them. They answered with a bow of their own, stiff, from the waist, but with their eyes remaining on Lio.
The uncle motioned toward the man nearest him, then said to Lio, "Our third cousin, twice removed, wishes to be the first to avail himself of your glorious beauty this evening, charming niece."
Lio bowed again and said, "Honored."
She rose, dilated her nostrils once again to be sure of the instructions that the incense directed, then turned and opened the closet. When she turned again toward the men, the one who was to be first walked close, smiling broadly and already beginning to show the signs of great excitement. Lio held what appeared to be a jumble of odd-sized clothing. When the man moved closer to her, she placed the clothing on the floor and slowly walked close to the man.
As Lio smiled into the man's eyes, she saw that her uncle and the other guest had seated themselves on cushions and were watching interestedly.
Gracefully, as if she were presenting a lotus blossom to him, Lio brought her hands forward. She undid his tie, then the buttons of his shirt. When the yellow-brown skin of his chest was revealed, she deftly removed his jacket, then his shirt. She walked with them, gliding as if in a dance, to the side of the room and placed the clothing on the floor. Then she returned to the man and helped him remove his trousers, his shorts, shoes, and socks. When he was nude, she rose in front of him. She looked into his eyes. They glistened, and beads of perspiration began to stud all of his body. But it was only this that indicated his passion.
Lio stepped back a pace. Then, facing the man, she raised her arms high above her head and formed them into a dancing pose. The motion caused her shift to hike a bit, caress at the pretty bulges of her body, at her breasts and at the small, tight roll of flesh at her belly. Slowly, she turned, then, as she moved, she began a slow, undulating wiggle of her hips. And as her body squirmed in some unknown, native dance, she constantly moved her arms and hands, her fingers especially, in the caressing movements of love.
The man watched Lio intently. He perspired more freely. But still that expected response did not appear at his body.
Lio moved closer. She continued her dance, the up and down motion of her arms, the bumping of her hips from side to side, and she brought her fingers to his body where she tantalized his skin with their movement as she caressed at his neck and shoulders, at his chest, over the full expanse of it, then lower to his waist.
After a long time, while Lio danced and caressed, while the man stood straight before her, his eyes glued upon her moving body, she stepped back. Continuing the motion of her dance, she wiggled free of her shift and was revealed to all in nothing but a thin, bikini-type bra, skimpy, bikini panties, and the high-heeled shoes she had not yet abandoned.
Her near-nakedness caused a greater liquidity to come to her dancing movements. Her hips thumped harder from side to side. Her tits jiggled, showed most of themselves, then hid again once more appearing to tempt all who watched.
The man who was the recipient of her efforts, trembled slightly at the sight of her, at her yellow-brown body that moved so incessantly, at her arms and fingers that caressed at the air, at the oblong eyes which seemed nearly closed and at the black hair which floated like a cloud as it bounded and lifted and waved low behind her, striking lightly below her buttocks, swirling around to cover an area at her thighs, then moving to her back once again.
Finally, Lio brought an abrupt halt to her dance. For a moment the man stared directly at her, then with a gasp he threw himself to the floor and rolled to his back. Lio stepped to his side. She looked down at the passivity that continued. Then, very slowly, she raised her right foot and brought the heel of her high-heeled shoe down upon him.
The man gasped passionately. Lio ground the heel of the shoe harder against him, jamming it to him as if she were seeking to dig a hole into the earth, twisting it from side to side while she continued pressure harder upon him.
And the man gasped and gasped, choked, uttered some insane, foreign utterance of delight and arched upward, harder against her relentless shoe.
Soon, the man uttered an eerie cry and twisted away from the high heel which pounded and ground against him. He reached out and gripped Lio's foot, then he raised the smooth shoe to his mouth and kissed at it passionately, kissed hard over all the smooth, long surface of it, at the toe, the sides, at the back, at the bottom of the heel itself. He kissed harder and harder, and soon his tongue shot forward to lap at the smooth, leather shoe, at all of it again until at last he was done with it and rolled away.
Lio looked at the man as he lay on his back, breathing hard. And at last she saw that her dance, her bare body, the torture of her heel against him, and finally his own mouthing and kissing of the shoe itself, had aroused him.
Lio glided back several paces as the man pushed to his feet. He strained toward her, pointed all of his strength in her direction, but he made no move to take her in his arms, to touch at her rounded breasts or at any of the lovely, delicious parts of her. He trembled and tensed, but did not move to take the girl.
Finally, it was Lio who moved. She reached behind her, unclasped her tiny bra and brought it away from her body to dangle in her hand. Her breasts rolled free. They were round, not especially large, but had such vibrant intensity to them that it appeared they might bloat and burst. And it seemed as if the long, hard, straining nipples might shoot away from her like bullets. And the tremble of her breasts was like the light, rippling waves of a distant, exotic shore.
The man's body, tall, yellow-brown and bathed in sweat, quivered with ripples of excitement.
Lio waited only a few moments, then she moved forward and brought her small bra close to the man's chest. First, she merely rubbed it against him, then, exerting a mighty effort, she managed to bring it around his small chest and tie it at the back.
She stepped back and appraised the grotesque picture she had created: The man, solidly built, naked except for the tiny bra about his chest.
Lio, looking directly into his eyes brought her fingers inside the sides of her brief panties. She extended the elastic waistband far out, then quickly brought then downward, over her legs until she stepped out of them.
The man lunged forward anxiously. He lifted a foot. Lio bent and assisted him into the panties. Then he rose tall again, straining and stretching and looking very incredible in bra and panties.
Completely naked now, Lio again raised her arms and did a few steps of a sensual dance. Then she hurried to where she had placed the other clothing. She snatched it up and carried it to the man.
With Lio expertly aiding him, his anxious body snaked into the tantalizing silk of a long, silk dress. When it fell to the floor, cascading over his hips, he shivered delightedly. Then Lio added the touch that sent him into a spasm of pleasure. She removed her shoes and jammed them onto his feet. Then she stepped back.
The tall, yellow-brown man, turned in a circle, first presenting himself to the men who watched, then to Lio who awaited him. She knew her cue. She obeyed it immediately.
She moved a few paces, snatched up a large cushion, returned to the man, dropped the cushion then lowered her body to it. She adjusted her hips to its softness and waited while the woman-dressed man lowered, fumbled beneath his amazing attire and finally produced the man of him from within the feminine folds. His cock was gleaming, and Lio liked its look.
Lio hissed an eerie note and arched her body high. The soft silk of the dress floated upon her bare body while from beneath it she felt the man of her strange paramour thrashing as he lowered to her.
It was a strange, jumbled, crazy-patterned interlude of love. Lio arched and lowered her naked body at a frantic pace. The feminine clad man pounded furiously. And both of them from time to time were beneath a tent of silk, as if they were concealed from the outer world and all of its normalcy.
And then it was over, made finished with quickly because of the long and aphrodisiacally oriented prelude they had endured. Lio hissed, arched high, then cried out. The man groaned a passionate answer to her call, pounded harder, then slumped atop her as she went limp.
They parted quickly. Lio to her feet, turning to her uncle and his other guest; the silken clad man went out of the room and to a place of repair.
Lio had hardly a moment's respite from her use. The man next to her uncle leaped to his feet and hurried to the center of the room where Lio awaited him.
He was not careful, patient, or given to preliminaries. He tore his clothing from his body, then, when he was nude, he shot his hand forward and snatched at her long black hair. He gripped it hard, wound it within his strong fingers. Then he moved, jerking her off her feet to crash to the floor, then rub against it as he dragged her in a circle around the room.
Lio's body rubbed and bruised and bumped against the floor as she was dragged in a great circle. Her hair, so long, so black, so beautiful, and fortunately, so strong, pulled at her scalp as if it threatened total loosening. But then the pain that was there lessened as the man began to twirl her, brought her body in a hurtful circle as she was dragged. Her breasts struck the floor, then flattened and were rubbed against it as the man continued his wild circle. Then he jerked and she was on her back again to endure at her hips and back-thighs and shoulders the burn of the floor, the rubbing, the harsh torture that was brought to her skin.
The man halted in a comer of the room. With Lio stretched behind him as if he were preparing to hurl a grenade, he paused, then thrusted her forward with a tremendous sweep that skimmed her across the top of the floor until she was crashed against the comer of the wall. She struck it hard, bounding from one side to the other in a way that smashed both her hips and breasts, crushing them inward as if they would never again puff proudly.
The man regrasped Lio by the hair. He jerked her upward to her knees. He arched her head far back, then with his free hand, he struck her a hard slap across her cheek. Her head jerked to the side. Then it was brought to the other side as the man backhanded her other cheek. Then he flurried a series of slaps to her face, shooting her head from side to side as she was slapped, backhanded, slapped again, then backhanded once more, as it continued endlessly, hard and cruelly against the beauty of her delicate face.
Soon, he stopped that torture. Then he jerked her behind him and flung her against the wall once more. Then he did not stop. He flung her, let her crash hurtfully, rewound his fingers in her hair, draw her back, then lurched her forward again. And again and again and again.
And then that cruelty was ended. The man trembled and panted and as he again wound his fingers into her hair, he added his other hand to tangle with its mate in the thick, long blackness of her. Then he arched forward at the same time that he jerked Lio to him. And on her knees, as if bowing again and again to some obscene god of an ancient past, she was forced forward to him, then away, then forward once again. And finally, her choking, gasping, suffocating motion needed no encouragement. She moved on her own, down, down, down, harder and harder, obedient to the man's desires, ever faithful to the vows she had as a child taken before her kinsmen; a vow of use by relative and friend, a commitment to a life of sexual servitude.
At times like these Lio always thought of the act that she was committing. She knew that it was called 'cocksucking' in this country, but of all the things she did with the strange men who came to visit her uncle, this was her favorite thing. She loved the feel of the stranger's prick in her mouth, the way it glided through her parted lips and filled her jaws with its strength. Her life, she knew, could be devoted to sucking strangers' cocks and she'd never feel that she'd missed anything.
The man she was sucking hit her across the face, but she continued to suck his cock, milking it with the muscles of her throat and biting it gently on the head as he plunged it past her teeth and into her throat.
She wondered about Professor Haywood. Would she get admitted to Blair State by merely sucking his cock? She hoped he had a great big fat cock so that if she had to suck it, it would be enjoyable.
She felt the throbbings from the prick in her mouth and she knew the man was going to come, filling her mouth with his juices. She sucked extra hard, rolling her tongue around the swollen penis-head and gathering up the goo already beginning to flow.
The man grabbed her head and held it in his hands, trying to force her to be still so that he could attack her face with the savage intensity that his oncoming explosion called for. He wanted to ream her mouth, make her be still and let him pump his cock in and out all the way, ravishing her throat and making her beg for mercy. But the only mercy he planned to give her was the soothing juices from his swollen balls. He wanted to flood her mouth and make her gag on his fuck.
But Lio had more experience than he did, and she skillfully sucked his juices from him without any damage to herself.
When she was through she wondered again about the strange man from Blair State. Would she have to do it, she wondered? Was there no other way into Blair State except through her mouth or her tiny, sweet cunt? She didn't know, and she was beginning not to care.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As the tenure of his stay at the Bay City High School drew near its end, Don Haywood found himself thinking more and more of the astonishing beauty, Lio, who was only sixteen, yet appeared as worldly as all the generations of mankind; Lio, of a magnificent body that she would not share; Lio, of seriousness of purpose and dedication to her ambition to attend Blair State College.
Finally, after Don had reviewed all the applications and applicants from Bay High-after he had approved many he would have rejected a few weeks earlier-only one remained. Lio herself had not yet appeared for an interview. And Don steamed with impatience, with desire and frantic lust, to have the girl appear, to face him, to either win an interlude with her fairly, or, if need be, to force her to submission through the power of his position.
So it was that Don remained behind at the office provided him at the Bay City High School after all the others, teachers, students, even the custodians, had departed for the day. The hour set for his last interview had long past, but still he remained, despondent, but hopeful that Lio might still seek him out, present herself for his decision. And he waited while it grew dark outside, waited still, even after Cass had phoned to inquire of his plans: Was he ready to leave? Would they wait until morning?
Cass had seemed somewhat pleased when he told her that they would remain until morning, then entrain at an early hour from the small railroad station in the center of the small town.
Then he remained, quiet and alone, brooding a bit, for another hour. And then the sharp ring of the telephone shocked him to alertness.
He pushed forward in the swivel chair and grabbed the phone, rushing a hurried response into the mouthpiece. But Don was sorely disappointed. His late hour caller was none other then the Dean of Blair State.
"How are you, Don?" the dean asked.
'Fine, Sir. Just fine."
"Good."
"It's a little late for you to be calling, isn't it, Dean?" asked Don.
"It is," agreed the Dean. "But I've stayed late at the office to go over the approved applications you've sent me."
"Oh."
"Don, what in the world has gotten into you?" queried the Dean seriously, sounding as if he inquired of poor health.
"Why, nothing, Sir. What's wrong?"
"Some of these applications you've approved are amazing-absolutely amazing. They seem hardly representative of the graduates we want at Blair."
"Oh, really?"
"Yes. You know that, Don. Why, heavens, some of these are applications from downright trouble-makers."
Don, hesitated, mentally reviewing those trouble-makers he had approved for admission to Blair. They were all girls, all lovely, all with fantastic bodies, all free and delightful and-.
"Don-are you still there?" the Dean asked loudly.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what about these borderline cases you've admitted? What about these students who aren't even borderline-those who are just plain bad Blair material? You've approved them. What's your explanation?"
"The great free-thinking-the great liberal beliefs that are the tradition of Blair State-that is my explanation, Sir," Don said hurriedly, as if he were anxious to get the phrase out before it cooled.
"Ummmmmmmmm," said the Dean.
Encouraged, Don went on, saying, "You see, sir, I feel that Blair is far beyond the ordinary norms and tests that are used by most colleges to evaluate prospective undergraduates. We have a tradition of liberal attitudes, individuality, freedom, and all these things must be utilized when we approve or disapprove a candidate for admission to Blair. Every case is individual, I've come to realize that, and there are always things that don't show up on an application form or entrance exams. So, I've been judging students on many individual merits. I'm-I'm quite prepared to take the responsibility for their selection."
It was quiet a moment, then the Dean said, "Very interesting, Don, very interesting, indeed." There was a pause during which Don hardly breathed, then there came the Dean's voice again, saying, "I'm considerably shocked by some of your approvals, Don, I admit that. But I'm prepared to go along with your own judgment. You know Blair, and obviously you know the students you're interviewing, so well-I'm prepared to go along with your own evaluation, Don. After all, you've never failed Blair yet-I doubt you will now. Right?"
"Right," Don repeated, breathing easier.
The Dean spoke a few more words about the weather, Don's itinerary, and the results of the latest Blair track competition, then he said, "And how are you and Miss Bigelow getting on together?"
Don had a quick flashing thought of Cass, of the perverted sexual episode they had shared, then he said, "Oh, fine, sir, just fine."
"Good. I just thought you two might work well together."
"We do," Don said.
They said their good-byes and Don replaced the phone on its hook and shoved it across the desk.
It was as he leaned back in the swivel chair again, half-turning as he did so, that he saw Lio standing in the doorway looking at him.
He nearly exploded from surprise. He shot forward to the desk again, bringing his hands to the top of it with a thump.
"Good Lord, you startled me," he said.
"I know," she said quietly. "I'm-I'm sorry, professor."
"Well, don't be," Lio, there's nothing to be sorry for. I'm delighted to see you. Come in. Sit down."
"In the dark?" she asked.
"Oh, of course not," Don laughed. "Here." He reached forward and switched on the desk lamp.
Lio remained where she was at the door. Her black hair was as long as Don remembered it, still hanging loosely far below her waist. And her complexion was still that remarkable mixture of brown and yellow and some other secret darkness. Her body was as exquisite as he remembered it, too. It still was made up of those glorious qualities of perfectly proportioned breasts and hips and waist and thighs and legs.
Only her eyes and the dress that she wore made her appear different than Don remembered her. Her long, dark eyelashes seemed moist and they more frequently lowered to cover her eyes. And she wore a severe black dress, one that might be worn for a formal party or for traveling.
"Well, come on, Lio, sit down," Don coaxed.
She walked to his desk. Her body rippled with energy as she moved, but it seemed a different kind of energy, that kind that is made up of nervousness and upset rather than from the natural, liquid agility of her grace.
Lio glanced at Don, then sat down in the chair at the side of his desk. Her knees came primly together but her skirt insisted upon rising above her nylon-clad knees until several inches of pleasurable flesh was exposed. And the low bodice of her dress could not help but be bold and point openly so that the yellow-brown contours of her breasts were delicately revealed to Don. And her breathing behaved naughtily; it encouraged her breasts to puff and diminish, then puff again.
Don saw all of her at a glance, felt all of her impact as strongly as if he had been shot in the chest at close range. He felt dry and choked and rather inaudible.
"I'm glad you haven't left town yet," Lio said, looking directly into his eyes.
"Well, I'm glad too," Don said, hearing his words as if they came from a stranger. "And I'm especially glad that you decided to come and see me about your application for Blair."
"Are you?" Her smile was cynical. "Of course."
"That's why you're glad I came to see you, professor?" she questioned again as if she were a lawyer driving for a different reply.
"Certainly."
"Because you're so interested in giving students a chance to attend Blair, Professor?"
"I wish everyone could go to Blair," Don replied.
"Can I go?" she asked suddenly, much quicker than Don had anticipated.
He leaned back a bit in his chair. Lio had come to the crux of the matter quickly, even before Don had a chance to consider how he might approach the subject of her body's barter.
"I don't know," he answered. "But tell me, why are you so intent about college in the first place?"
"Because I have certain obligations to fulfill. And because I want to-to be free of this town."
Don nodded, then said, "Sounds reasonable, Lio."
"Then am I accepted? Will you approve my application?"
For an answer he let his eyes slide over all of her body, let them burrow into the roundness of her breasts, then lower and assault the wrinkle of her dress at her thighs. And as he looked at her boldly, conveying, he knew, his silent proposition, the trade of her sex for a Blair admission, he felt a sudden gush of horror for how he had changed, the way only a few weeks had turned him from professor to cad. But he could not reject the cad in himself. It was impossible, at least until he had filled in all the vacant and sexless years of his past.
Lio leaned forward a bit, then said, "You have to understand that I'm not like the other girls-that I can't be as loose as they are. I've made commitments-if they're broken-I-I could suffer for the rest of my life."
"I haven't said a word about commitments, Lio," Don said, surprised at the smoothness of his tone. "I haven't said a thing about your friends who are loose-those who-well, know how to demonstrate their qualifications for Blair."
She smiled thinly. "Of course you haven't. You're much too shrewd for that."
"I shrewd? Really, Lio."
"You are. And it rather surprises me. When I first met you, I was sure you couldn't be the kind of man you've turned out to be-the kind that makes a whore out of a college education."
"Lio! Please!"
"Don't be so shocked. I can use profanity. I can use my body, too. And you know it, Professor Haywood, you know it so darn well or you wouldn't be sitting there now trading Blair for this." She moved her hands quickly and brought them down her body in a long caress.
Don hated the vulgar tone her voice had taken. He hated the absence of subtlety. He had wished-and had expected-that he would accomplish with Lio that which he had achieved with the others without the use of words and designations that made sex and love seem vulgar and cheap. But Lio had been brutally direct. Don wished that she had not.
Lio rose from her chair and stood at the side of the desk. She looked down and smiled. Then she straightened her body as if readying it for a blast.
"All right, Professor," she said. "You win. I'll play it your way. The price might be high, but it's worth the chance in order to leave this town-to get away-to-be free of-."
"Yes, Lio. Free of what?"
"It doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Nothing does."
Don pushed up from the desk. His heart was pounding heavily and although he loathed himself for what he was doing, he could not help it. He wanted Lio, had to have her, even if he never had the pleasure of another female again, or, for that matter, even if having her denied him his very next breath of life. His lust for the strange yellow-brown girl was that great.
"Where shall we go?" she asked simply.
Again Don wished that she did not so definitely form what they were about to do into cold, hard words. But he had no time to consider it. His mind flashed with a dozen settings: motels, his own hotel room, the beach, the seat of a car, even there in the office, or the floor or a comer of any room or even behind the bushes in the school yard-anywhere.
"May I make a suggestion?" she asked when he did not answer. "Please do."
"In the auditorium-backstage. It's private, and there are places where we-where we will have room. It's been used before. Not by me. By our little friends, most of whom you already know very well."
"Lio, please."
"Shall we go?"
"Yes. Yes, of course, Anything you say, Lio."
She turned and went to the door. She waited for Don to join her. When he did they walked down the long, tiled corridor to its very end where another door led into the auditorium.
When they entered the dark auditorium together with its row upon row of seats at either side of the center aisle, Don felt a great growth of himself and it was more than physical. It was as if he were a king being led to an altar that would provide him with the beauty next to him. Whether it was an altar for wedlock or a sacrificial altar, he was not sure, but it was intensely exciting to be approaching it. And the greatest excitement of it was Lio next to him. She moved straight and unwavering down the aisle. Although it was dark and Don could barely see, he sensed the jiggle of her breasts and the gentle, comforting sway of her hips. She moved like a jungle princess, as beautiful as the most beautiful island in the world.
Midway down the aisle, Don experienced a fantastic stammer of his body. It was caused by even greater passion rising. He moved, yet felt incapable of movement, he breathed yet was sure his breathing had ceased. He felt shy as a small boy and as wild as a maniac.
When Lio and Don completed the long stretch of aisle, they automatically turned to the right and walked across the front row of seats to the stage steps. Here, Lio paused a moment, reached to the side of the wall and flicked on a single light. It was a soft, red, overhanging spot from the ceiling of the stage. Its glow cast them in the light red of a fire, made them seem hot and savage.
Lio moved up the steps ahead of Don. Now he could see the sway of her hips, the taut stretch of her long legs, the ripple of motion at her buttocks, and the sight nearly made him bend over in convulsions so great was his desire for her.
Don waited at the top of the stairs. Lio gave him a glance over her shoulder then proceeded through the curtains at the wing. Don followed her.
Backstage, the red light from above continued to cast its eerie shade over the setting and over Lio and Don. The stage held a disarray of equipment; unused spot lights, long, snake-like coils of rope and electrical wires, tumbling mats, and lockers along the wall that contained costumes and more equipment. Don looked around and thought how mysterious and lonely a stage looked when it was without people. Then he looked at Lio and thought how right it was that they were alone, bathed in a red glow, and preparing to make love someplace on the silent stage.
Lio walked close to him. She seemed different, as if everything within her had suddenly come to a decision that brightened her. She no longer seemed hesitant and repulsed. Her step was quicker and the jiggle of her body seemed to have taken on a touch of anxiety, as if it, over and beyond the cautions of her mind, thrusted for use and activity. As Don noticed this change in her he wondered if it was because she was about to assure her admission at the college of her choice, if she anticipated this and the freedom that it would mean to her.
"Lio-you seem different," Don whispered.
"Yes. I know."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I've just made things right in my mind. I've brought the risks-even the violation of my vows-together with the opportunities I will have away from this town-away from my people here-and I know that it's right-that I have made a right decision."
The words sounded strange to Don, much as if they summed up a story he should already know, but did not. He felt, too, that he had become the center of her story, both the hero and the villain, and that all of her life was woven around it.
Sweetly, with little-girl steps, she came to him. "So, please, are you ready for me?"
The sweetness of her face, the softness of her body everything about her, made Don suddenly feel as if he were violating an innocence that had once been holy. And just that quickly, he decided against it. He pushed Lio away from him.
Her eyes looked startled. "What is wrong? Do I not please you?"
"Yes, you please me, Lio, please me very much. But this is not necessary-I'm not quite as conniving as I was a second ago."
"But-."
"Hush, child," he said softly. "You'll go to Blair-I'm approving your application. It's a better one than most I've approved in this town. So-be happy, and let's get out of here quickly."
They turned. They left the stage. Lio was smiling happily, and Don felt quite good, felt as if he had not completely traded responsibility for those new matters of the flesh.
CHAPTER NINE
Cass Bigelow closed her eyes and settled more comfortably into the airplane seat. She thought of her recent methods of travel, the rickety train from Bay City, the rented cars she and Don had shared between other small towns, and finally this new airplane, so like the first that started them on their travels. But there was a difference. This plane was taking them closer to home, depositing them at the city of Benton for a brief stay, then onward to home and the comfort of Blair State once more.
And from the beginning of their travels to this near end, there had been great and illuminating experiences, Cass thought.
She heard a shuffle of movement passing her.
She opened her eyes and saw Don Haywood making his way to the washroom at the end of the aisle. He seemed not to see her. It was not unusual, she decided. Since they had left Bay City an even newer change had come to Don. He seemed pinched with worry, constantly in thought, nervous, and rather self-accusing. And a change had come to his work, too. At Bay City, and also at the few stops that had preceded that stay, he had been liberal in his acceptance of the most impossible kind of applicants. But since they had ended their interviews at Bay City High School, Don had become stern and fussy about every applicant who was presented. He even started to turn down borderline cases, the probationaries that stood an even chance at making it at Blair. And before that, he had been almost careless in his approvals. Cass wondered what had happened to him to cause this change. Then she decided that things happened to everyone, all the time, constantly, that changed them. They even happened to herself.
Cass closed her eyes and thought of some of the things that she had experienced since beginning the tour. Warmth began to glow throughout her body. Her thoughts were erotic, of herself and men and boys, of herself and Don, even of self with self.
A stir tickled all of her body as she remembered her single sexual experience with Don. Neither of them had talked of it, or even given the slightest hint that it had happened. Both, obviously, wanted to pretend that it had not happened. But that had been the beginning for Cass, that time with Don and the moments she had thrusted to the body of the colored boy, Ben. It had ended celibacy, that which she had endured for many months. And it had done something else, too. It had set off a raging desire to try everything sexual that the world had to offer. And, Cass did try many new and different inventions of sex.
She purred softly to herself and twisted to her side where she rested her head against the cool, window pane. She remembered that boy in the small farm community-the boy who wanted to go to Blair State, the boy who could not stop once he had started-who could not stop even after he had ended.
Cass relived the experience. She recalled it all, beginning with her shrill scream.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE," she shrilled. "Stop it, STOP IT! For God's sake, let me rest!"
"No," he groaned as his young bare body continued to pump to Cass.
Soon her protest ceased. It hadn't been real in the first place, had been motivated by a decorum she wished to regain, one that said a woman of her standing should take sex lightly, not continue to thirst and lurch to the restless young body of a teenaged boy. But, once embarked, she could jot deny herself the boys, especially Ted who was so tall and lean and so very, very hard. Naked, moving beneath him, and having wrestled frantically from the bed in her hotel room to the floor, Cass wheezed long sounds of pleasure as she began once again-for the second time within the hour, the second time that found the boy, Ted continually joined to her and moving.
Cass thrusted her body upward and snuggled it against the young, strong boy a moment before lowering, then bounding upward once again. And the boy's face above her grinned a forced, hard lined look, as if he were torturer as much as lover, as if he pressured his body again and again to her in a sort of giving that required more of her than was usually required of any woman.
Cass sighed a heavenly sound as she arched high, then felt the quick grip of his hands upon her breasts, kneading them, even as he thrusted mightily, and her hands reached out, too, found the small of his back and gently caressed, stimulating him, making him groan and grow wilder in his movements.
And then they had once again ventured to the very end.
"Yeah! Yeah!" he grunted.
"Go, Baby-Go, go, go," he yelled, then added, "Make it a call for-for Blair State, baby. Say, Ted and Blair State, together, baby, and promise that's the way it's going to be."
He brought his hips back and paused there, waiting for her reply.
And then it came from her, loud and blasting, her shrill call of promise for anything-anything, just so long that it would make him move again, move and bring her this final top-heavy thrill, that climb over the wall so that she could crash downward into the well of utmost feeling, into the oblivion of great, great sensation.
"Yes! I promise!" she yelped. "I promise, I promise, I promise, promise, promise, promise, Ted, I promise."
He yelled a call of victory and stormed his body to her for its new volley of thrill.
And Cass received her high, high ride with a greater intensity than even that which she had known less than an hour earlier, that which she had then considered supreme, beyond duplication. But it had been matched, and then surpassed.
Her body went limp as she sobbed the after-sounds of her new, final thrill. But still Ted did not quiet, did not cease the relentless attack of his young manhood. As if he wanted to assure himself of her promise, he continued to sweep upon her, to pound as strongly as he had already pounded to her.
And her tired body aroused once again, aroused and rose to meet him, to create between them a new assault upon sensations. And soon, again, the boy's pounding became a roar, a roar that droned out her own crazy cries of sexual pleasure.
The roar of the airplane's engine changed tone, cut a moment, then roared steadily again.
Cass turned in her seat. She opened her eyes and looked out the window. Only blue sky and clouds were visible to her view.
She sighed, closed her eyes, and rolled to the other side of the leather seat. Her body felt warm for it had been vitalized by memories of herself and the boy Ted, the boy who would be entering Blair State as a freshman in the fall.
Ted, thought Cass, what a glorious memory he provided. How he had thrilled her! How strong he was! What great delight he gave!
She felt the crush of her heavy, hard-nipple studded breasts as they came into contact with the leather of the airplane seat. She burrowed closer. Then she remembered a man, not a boy, a most astonishing man who, even more astonishingly, was a teacher at one of the schools where Don Haywood and she had conducted interviews. Cass remembered that the man had been direct-very direct.
"Will you have dinner with me tonight?" the teacher asked quickly.
"My," she answered. "How do the girls say it-this is so sudden?"
He laughed, then said, "Not at all. It's really quite understandable. You're a beautiful woman-you're in our town for only a short stay-I'd like to be able to avail myself of your company."
"Sounds good, I'd love dinner," she said, matching, without a moment's hesitation, his own directness.
"Fine. Thank you," the tall teacher answered. "What time and where?" she asked. "About eight. At my place."
"Oh."
"I'll pick you up. All right?"
"Yes, that's all right. At eight then."
They separated. During the day's interviews, Cass faced with the virile young bodies of boys who wanted to attend Blair State, mused less on the boys than she did on the tall, handsome teacher who was to attend her that evening.
He was prompt. He was also a gay and charming host. The dinner had been prepared at the teacher's farm residence by his Filipino cook, who discreetly disappeared from the house after dessert and coffee had been served. Cass thought both the home and the servant far beyond a teacher's income, but she was much too happy to question the intricacies of a stranger.
"Would you like to see my game room?" he asked.
She felt silly, but could not help replying, "I'm game for games so let's see the game room."
It was large, and a little preposterous. As long and wide as the entire house, it was on the third floor. The walls were lined with animal heads; every variety, from every section of the world, and, as attractive as they were they seemed incongruous with the farm house, the simple country setting, and to the teacher himself.
"Oh, my, such trophies," Cass exclaimed. "Are you the hunter?"
"Yes."
She looked at him and cocked her head to one side. "They must pay teachers very well in this town."
"No," he laughed. "I have an independent income."
"Oh, how nice."
"It is," he said.
He touched at her elbow and led her around the room, stopping at each of the trophies while the teacher explained the circumstances of its acquisition.
They had a drink together at a bar that was set in the comer of the room. Then they had another. And then one more. And then the teacher was very direct again.
"I'd like to make love to you, Cass," he said.
Cass was not surprised. But she pretended it. "Oh, really?"
"Yes. Will you?"
"You certainly don't believe in preliminaries, do you?"
"They're really an awful waste of time. Love, and sex, is really a rather simple matter. It should be approached in the simplest possible terms."
"And what are your terms?" she asked.
He smiled, then replied, "I'm a little unique. You won't mind it, I assure you."
And, although she was surprised, she did not mind it when the teacher presented for her inspection a tight, soft leather garment that was intended for her naked body.
"Just feel it. Don't you love it?" he said in a thick, passionate tone.
Cass felt the garment. She held it out in front of her and saw that it resembled a skin diver's scuba suit, except that it was leather, not rubber. She crinkled some of the material in her fingers. She remembered the whips and the whipping she and Don had shared, and for a moment she wondered if from that point she was directed toward the asides of sex, the outlandish and abnormal. And then she thought of her own sexual attitudes and she knew that nothing, especially that 'nothing' that did no harm to others, was truly abnormal, that sex called all people together, commingled all desires and all expressions toward one universal end and that it mattered not at all how that end was achieved; whether churning beneath the naked male, or incased in the tight, soft-leather costume supplied by a high school teacher.
When Cass relaxed her grip on the leather suit and let it drop to the floor, she saw that the big, handsome teacher had already become very excited. His eyes glazed a bit and there was a decided tremble that had come to his big body. And he rubbed his tongue greedily over his lips, from side to side, constantly moistening them.
Finally, nodding toward the garment, he said, 'Would you, please?"
His words caused instant excitement to race throughout her body. She felt her nipples harden, her stomach muscles grow taut, and a very pronounced yearning stinging all of her. She breathed deeply, them, as the fully clothed teacher watched, she lowered the zipper at the side of her dress. She shrugged the thin straps from her shoulders and allowed the dress to fall to her feet. She stepped out of it. The man trembled harder as his eyes investigated the flow of her body as it was revealed to him from thin, strapless bra, small panties, high nylon hose and very high heeled shoes.
"Oh, my, you are lovely," he whispered.
Cass moved to unhook her bra.
"No, stay like that for a moment, please," the teacher whispered.
Cass, seeing the way that his eyes devoured her, began to feel excitement for her display. She straightened her body and breathed deeply, then, imitating the walk of a model, she moved back and forth in front of him, turned in a slow circle, walked again, circled again, then stopped in front of him.
Quickly, the man pulled his jacket off and let it drop to the floor. Then he undid his tie, shirt and undershirt. They floated to the floor, too. And then he paused and nodded at Cass.
She unhooked her bra. It dropped to the floor and her breasts loomed forward. The nipples were red and hard as diamonds, pointed as fabulous diamond chips.
The man kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks.
Cass discarded her high heeled shoes and lowered the garter belt and nylons.
The man snatched his trousers from his body, then yanked his shorts free of his body.
Cass lowered and stepped out of a small, dainty panties, then rose nude before the steaming eyes of her host.
"Oh, my," he panted.
Cass looked at all of his body, became as greedy with her eyes as he was with him. She saw his broad shoulders and the hard muscled chest above a narrow, masculine waist. And she looked at solid legs. His cock throbbed with passion.
"The suit-the leather-dress in it, please-quickly," directed the teacher.
She bent to the floor and grasped the costume in her hands. She was very conscious of the sudden hang of her breasts, of the lines of her hips and buttocks which jutted outward. Then she rose and lifted the leather suit.
Slowly, she adjusted the leg opening to her right foot. She tugged it over her ankle. And even at that slight contact, Cass knew the emminence of frantic thrill. She pulled the soft leather garment higher, brought it up her leg until it clung high at a spot on her thigh. Then she inserted her other foot and brought the garment over it, all the time feeling the delightful crinkle of the soft leather, the smooth, yet resistive material as it clung to her skin and stammered upward.
"Yes, yes, that's it," encouraged the teacher frantically.
Cass smiled and felt the thrill that her delay was causing him. Then she tugged hard on the garment and brought it over her hips. It plastered to her like wallpaper. And as she felt it sticking to her as if it were a second skin, she trembled slightly and was anxious to know more of the soft leather cuddling to her naked body.
She thrust an arm into the suit and brought it up and over one shoulder. Then she forced the leather over her other arm and at last she was incased in the soft leather, feeling all of it around her except for that final long gash of flesh that was and at last she was incased in the soft leather, feeling all of it around her except for that great split from throat to her thigh-endings where the zipper ran.
The teacher's eyes wandered over all of her, . then centered at that final long gash of flesh that was not yet concealed in leather.
Cass lowered her hand to the zipper tab at the bottom. She tugged it upward an inch. Then another inch. Then still another before pausing.
"Oh, hurry, please hurry," the man stuttered.
She brought the zipper as high as her navel and paused again.
" Oh, please, please, please," the man begged.
Cass played with the zipper tab a moment, twirling it between her fingers, then she raised it to the bottom of her breasts.
The man lunged forward. "Here-let me-let me help."
With shakey fingers he grasped the zipper, then with the other hand, he gripped her right breast and jammed it inside the leather suit. Then he clutched and pressured the other large breast to concealment within the leather. Then, breathing heavily, trembling at every part of his body, he fumbled at the zipper tab, finally secured it between thumb and forefinger and raised it to its tight locking high at her throat.
Then he stepped back and gasped.
Cass whined a light response for she suddenly felt the full effect of the soft leather against her bare body. It clung to her so tightly that she knew that her skin was turning pink. Her breasts felt jammed and bruised, yet oddly caressed by her leather prison. And at her thighs she felt the clutch of crunkly leather as if it were an animal trap that had sprung and held her. And over all of her body, her legs, her hips, buttocks, waist, breast, arms and shoulders, she experienced the thrill of leather upon skin as tightly as if her body had turned to that substance, had become the leather itself.
"Oh, oh, oh," the man breathed pathetically.
Cass straightened her body, causing, she knew, her breasts and buttocks and all of her to puff out to him in a way that showed every niche, every comer and wrinkle of her body, a way that creased lines between her thighs, between her rounded buttocks, that brought a dimple where her navel was, that dotted her breasts with the imprint of her hard, pushing, rubbing nipples.
The man jerked his hands to a springing position in front of him as if they had suddenly been burned. Then he stepped closer and very slowly and carefully rubbed all of his hands over the leather that held her body.
Cass felt the fingers moving through leather against her. And she reacted. She trembled. Her eyes rolled slightly. Her mouth shot open. Her tongue whisked at her lips. She spread her legs apart and stretched her arms wide, offering more of herself for the tingle of the man's fingers. And he moved to all of her. He touched at her leather held shoulders, collar bone, breasts down each arm, at her waist and thighs and between them, then slowly down each leg until he was bent before her.
He stretched his arms out and embraced Cass. She felt the heat of his naked body searing through leather to touch at her own bareness. He held her tightly, feeling, and reacting to all the leather of her as he pressed her closer, yet making no move for a conventional embrace, one that would call forth kisses and touches. But his body, moving now against her from side to side, trembled and shook as much as if he were already involved in the final moments of a normal act of love.
Suddenly, he stepped back a pace. He gripped Cass by the shoulders and pressured, indicating that she should lower to the floor. She complied.
When she was prone, she stretched on her side, then rolled to her back as the man lowered and took a place on his knees at her side.
And now he did bestow kisses, but they were not meant for her mouth. They were directed to the soft leather that held her. He bent, then, beginning at her shoulders and moving to her breasts, where he lingered, he switched his tongue madly back and forth across the leather that held her body, that puffed upward to him, rounded and full and so very enticing.
As he moved, Cass began a slight roll of her body, a roll that told of her own response to his strange love-making. Then she clasped her arms about his head and hugged him closer, held tight to him as his head moved, as his tongue continued to shoot back and forth across the leather, as he continued to descend upon her body. He lingered again at her thighs, causing Cass to arch mightily, thrust herself taut and hard against his moving mouth. And she felt his caresses as truly as if the leather did not hide her skin, for, in a way, she had become a sensitive part of the leather itself.
When the frantic leather-lover had traversed all of her body, he rose to his knees and looked into her face. His own was tense and desperate and very anxious looking. Then, after a sudden groan, he knee-walked closer to her side. Then he straightened. Then he boosted himself over and astraddle her waist. Then he directed and lunged in the direction of her leather-clad, bulging breasts.
Cass felt the striking motion he made against and between her breasts with a certain surprise that she should feel any excitement at all. But she did. And greatly. She felt her entire body ripple in reaction to the crashing he made against her. And within her there began a pulsation as great as his own, as fevered, as hot, as ever mounting and approaching an end.
He added only one movement to his single-sided expression of love. As he whipped himself harder and harder to the leather mounds of breasts that Cass presented, he lowered a bit upon her body then jammed one knee at the leather pinched place of her thigh's joining. It was a small movement, but it was enough.
Cass cried out and clawed her thighs to his bare knee. She held it close. Then she began to pressure up and down against it at the same time that he flurried to his end at her breasts.
And, crazily, it was for her, too. She felt the heat of her body grow beyond any measurable temperature. She felt her insides claw and scratch, as if they were seeking to thrust out of her body. She heaved upward and held, carrying the man's knee with her. And when she relaxed she experienced that greater descent of her emotions which came crashing and splattering to earth.
The man sobbed his farewell to her breasts. She cried her sadness at the parting that they now had to make. And then they both slumped into exhaustion.
Cass pushed up from her slumped position in the airplane seat. She felt warm, and she knew that it came from the memory of her encounter with the unusual male teacher at the little country school.
She relaxed, thinking that there had been many experiences, and if perhaps they were about to end, as they surely would end once she was safely returned to Blair State, at least she had known the variety of uses to which sex was used. She was glad for that. Then she looked down and beneath the plane's belly, she saw the city out-lined and waiting. She wondered what she and Don would find there, if perhaps it would truly mark an end to many things.
CHAPTER TEN
Don stopped midway up the walk that led to the entrance of the Benton High School. He looked around. Then turned again when he heard his name called from a distance horizontal to him. And then his heart leaped to his throat and jammed there when he saw that it was bright, bubbling, very sexual, Lisa Dewey who had hailed him. She came bounding toward him across the school lawn like an uninhibited puppy dog racing to meet his master.
Don's body tensed. His mind flashed a memory of himself and Lisa fucking in the front seat of his car. He tried to blot it out. He could not. He felt miserable.
"Wheeeee," exclaimed Lisa, pulling to a halt in front of him. "I was afraid I would miss you."
"Hello-Lisa," Don said.
"Hi, yourself, and welcome to Benton, Prof." She lowered her eyelashes demurely, then added, "I-I couldn't wait until you got here."
"Oh, Umph. Well, it's good to see you, too, Lisa."
She glanced around, then said, "What's the matter? You sound so-so kind of formal and everything. Aren't you glad to see me?"
"I said I was," he replied, his voice suddenly becoming crisp.
"When can I be with you-alone?" she asked.
"My schedule's very full, very full, indeed. But I might work you into my interviews this afternoon if you care to stop by the office."
"Hey, what the hell is this anyway?" she said, drawing back a bit. "You're acting like a regular square professor. Have you forgotten how things were between us before you started this jazz? Have you forgotten already-the way you-."
"Lisa, I have to be getting along," Don said. "Shall I look forward to seeing you this afternoon?"
"No, you sure as hell cannot look forward to it," she exploded, her voice going high. "And what about my application for Blair? Have you approved it? And there's another little matter I want you to look into, Prof. Take a good look at Dan Mark's application because, baby, I want him at Blair with me."
"Really, Lisa-."
"Really, yourself, jazzbo. And, yes, I will be at your office this afternoon. I want to see your approval on those little white sheets."
She spun around on her heel and hustled her body away from him. Don watched the sassy bounce of her hips, the flashing bare legs and the loose, free-swing breasts. He remembered all of it. Very well. Too well. He wished now that he was absent of this tormenting memory of her young body thrashing to his.
Slowly, feeling very tired, Don continued up the path to the school entrance. He wished that he could shake the tiredness that seemed a constant part of him now, that had been with him from the very moment that he realized what he was doing, what he had done when he had almost compromised the last of his principles for the body of Lio. That had been the last time for him. It would be the last time it would ever happen he had vowed. The memory of the quick change that had come over Lio had haunted him. It was impossible to shake it. And in a way, the girl, Lio, represented all of the evil he had dallied in since beginning the interviewing tour. Now, Don wanted it over with and forgotten. He wanted the tour finished and wanted to know once again the comfort and security of his academic life at Blair State.
Don entered the school building, then turned right and moved down the corridor to the small office at the end of it that he was to use.
He opened the door, stepped inside, then recoiled with shock when he saw Cass sitting on a small leather couch at the side of the room.
"Oh," he said. "I wasn't prepared for a guest."
"I'm hardly that," she said, smiling slightly, but without enthusiasm.
Don walked over to the desk, then turned to Cass, and said, "What can I do for you?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," she answered.
"Well, that's direct and not very flattering."
"No, it isn't," she laughed. "But I didn't mean it that way. I stopped to see you because I felt like a little conversation. We really haven't seen much of each other during this tour-not nearly as much as I had planned."
"That's true," he said. He felt a certain regret tug at his heart, reminding him that it could have been different, that he and Cass Bigelow could have enjoyed the companionship that was their right-could have, had he not become so infatuated with the youthful bodies of high school girls.
"You look tired, Don," Cass said, leaning forward in a manner that revealed the soft, comforting contours of her breasts against the thin white blouse she wore.
"I am," he sighed. "I'm very, very tired."
"I am, too" she said. "And it's odd. We shouldn't be"
"No, we shouldn't."
"Are you glad this is nearly over, Don?"
"Very glad."
"I'm glad, too," she said.
"Are you really?" he said, surprised. "I wouldn't have thought you'd ever want the tour to end."
"But I do. Frankly, I can't wait for the peace and quiet of Blair. I've missed that darn place. It's-well, like home-more home than I've ever known."
"Yes, that's the way I've always felt about Blair, too," he said, his voice sincere, showing, too, a kind of respect for her evaluation of the college he loved.
"Maybe faculty living is a coward's way to face life," Cass said. "But I like it. I think it's just about everything I ever want."
Don felt a warmness toward Cass that he had never yet known, not even when they were involved in the deviate love of whips.
Cass pushed up from the couch, then she said, "Well, I better get to my office. There's a parade of kids waiting."
"Yes, I suppose you should," Don said, rather sadly.
They smiled at each other, then Cass turned and left the office. For a long time Don looked at the door through which she had disappeared, then he sighed and seated himself behind the desk.
For a half hour Don read the Blair applications that awaited his attention. Then he pushed the buzzer on his desk to signal the presence of the first interviewee.
Don interviewed students without a break until late in the afternoon. And then he saw one more. Lisa undulated into the office.
"Hi," she said brightly, looking bright, too, in a tight sweater that clung to her body as if it were embracing her in love. Her breasts bulged frantically. Her nipples were large and sharp pointed. And the skirt that she wore was tight, too. It hugged her hips and buttocks so that every line of her was clearly revealed.
"Sit down, Lisa," Don said sternly.
She seated herself in the straight chair next to his desk.
"I've rejected your application for Blair," Don said quickly.
Her eyes blazed. Her breasts lifted. Her mouth parted. And then she exclaimed. "You must be joking-I thought we had all this settled."
"I'm not joking. And no, it wasn't all settled."
"I could ruin you," she said, leaning close to him.
"I know."
"And you don't care?"
"I care, but not as much as I would if I approved this application of yours. And I've turned down your friend's application too. Dan Marks."
Lisa leaped to her feet, "You bastard. You rotten bastard. You play a con game to get into my pants then you don't keep up your end of the bargain. You rotten bastard."
"That's not quite the way it happened, Lisa," he reminded her. "But, you'll never think differently, so let it go at that. But you're not going to Blair. Neither is the football captain.
Sorry. Try another school. One that's not as fussy as we are."
Lisa leaned forward and raised a clenched fist as if she were going to strike him. But she did not. She dropped her hand. Then a slow, wicked smile spread over her pretty face.
"Better change your mind, Prof," she said. "You'll be sorry if you don't."
"I'll be sorry if I do," he told her.
Her body stiffened. Her fists clenched again. Then she whirled around and dashed out of the office.
Don watched her disappear. He felt the slight breeze she had created. It was hot. He tried to determine if it was heat produced from sexuality, or from blazing vengeance and hate. He could not tell. And, he didn't care.
Don remained in the office until it was dark. He worked hard over applications, bringing together the odds and ends of the trip he and Cass had nearly completed. Except for his own indiscretions, it had been a successful trip, he decided. Most of the students who would be attending Blair in the fall were those of whom the college could be proud. And those who didn't belong at Blair, well, they would soon become dissatisfied and withdraw.
After he had stuffed the last of his papers into his briefcase, Don snapped it shut, hoisted it to the crook of his arm, then turned and walked out of the office.
At the school exit which bordered the parking lot, Don paused. Then he headed in the direction of the rented car that he and Cass were to use for their trip home to Blair. But now, all he wanted was to return to the motel on the outskirts of town, there to rest, there to ready himself for his return to academic duties.
Don got in the car. He started the engine, put it in gear, then bumped over the gravel lot until he reached the road. Then he turned right and headed directly for the motel.
When he reached the motel, set far back from the main road and made up of a series of individual cabins, Don slowed the car and brought it around the deep, circular drive. Then he halted it in front of his cabin which was set at the end, a considerable distance from the others. He glanced at Cass's cabin. It was dark. He felt a little sorrow that it was. They could have had dinner together, he thought. But, undoubtedly, she was already so involved.
He got out of the car slowly. He dragged his briefcase out after him, then slammed the car door shut. Then he went to his cabin's entrance. He fumbled for the key, found it in his jacket pocket, put it to its lock, then twisted as he pushed the door inward.
He stepped into darkness. He closed the door behind him and placed his briefcase on the floor. Then he reached for the light switch, found it, flicked it on, turned and felt an entire stammer of his body when he saw the fearsome scene that awaited him.
"Hi, Prof," Lisa said from across the room.
"Yeah, Hi," joined her friends; two large boys and another girl.
Don looked at them, but did not speak. Not until he looked at the side of the room and saw Cass, minus clothing except for a towel that was used as a mouth gag. She was bound to a straight backed chair.
"What the-," Don exclaimed. "Cass-are you all right?" He moved to go to her side but the tallest boy held up his hand to detain him. Don slowed, then stopped.
"That's right, Prof, hold it right there if you don't want to get hurt," said the boy.
"Aw, go on, let him get hurt, Dan," Lisa laughed. "Let him get hurt real good."
"Yeah," agreed the other girl. "We haven't had any real kicks lately."
Don looked at each of them, then at Cass again. Her eyes were very round, as if bloated with fear, and she looked very odd with two-thirds of the towel projecting from her mouth. For a moment, it looked as if Don was about to dash to her again, but Cass shook her head, signaling caution and care.
He looked at the teenagers again, then said, "All right, let's have it. Why are you here?"
"Listen to him," Dan Marks laughed. "Acting as if he doesn't know why we paid our little call."
"Yeah, old Mr. Innocent himself," Lisa joined in.
"Come on, let's get cuttin' with him," the other boy said anxiously.
"Take it easy, there's plenty of time," the other girl told him.
"All right, state your business, release Miss Bigelow and get out," Don tried again. His body quivered. He boiled with indignation, with fury for himself, too, that his first contact-his lust and indiscretion-with Lisa had caused this evil gathering.
"Man, how he does go on," Lisa said slowly.
"There's the police, you know," Don reminded them. "This will become a police matter if you don't leave this instant."
"Yeah, the fuzz," Dan Marks said. "But you're not going to be going to them. Not unless you want them to hear Lisa's little story about statutory rape, indecent liberties with a minor, with-."
"Shut up," Don blurted.
Instinctively, he turned and looked at Cass. Her eyes had changed their expression. The fear was gone. It was replaced with shock as she looked at him, then turned her head, looked at Lisa, and finally looked at Don once more.
He turned away from her accusing eyes.
"You see," Lisa said, coming close to Don. "We planned this little committee meeting for you to show you how much we appreciate being turned down for Blair. We kind of want to show you what your rejection means to us."
"Yeah, how we react, you might say," Dan Marks growled.
"Come on, let's cut the goddamn gab," the other boy mumbled.
Lisa turned toward him. She smiled. "Did you say cut?"
"You know I did," he answered.
"Now that's really a stupendous idea," Lisa said. "Really terrific."
The boy looked confused.
Dan Marks stepped closer to Lisa. His expression was one of intense curiosity. He looked not at all confused and he said, "Hey, I get you. The teacher-broad, eh?"
"For a start," Lisa replied crisply.
Quickly, Marks stepped to Don's side as the other boy pushed forward and moved to the other side. When Don made a lunge forward, ready to fight, to snatch Cass from the hands of evil, the one boy gripped him by the arms and pinned them to his back. Don struggled a moment, then quieted, knowing that resistance was futile, that it could only cause greater trouble for Cass.
Dan Marks stepped in front of Don. He reached to the hip pocket of his jeans and produced a pocket knife. Then he flipped a catch and the long, sharp blade sprang open and gleamed. He approached Cass.
Marks glanced at Lisa, then said, "Let me have the pleasure, okay?"
"Okay," Lisa said, "But hurry-I'm getting a little impatient myself.
Marks approached Cass. He looked at all of her body, at the way most of it was exposed because of the small bindings that held her arms at the back of the chair and pinched her ankles together in front. Cass was breathing deeply, crushing her large breasts out, then back, then outward again. Marks looked at the breasts and grinned. Then he moved closer. He bent a bit. Then he straightened and looked at the others.
"What the hell," he said. "She might dull the steel."
He flourished the knife in front of her, then lowered that hand as he bent in front of her. Then, with a savage growl, he clamped his mouth to her right breast and closed upon it.
Cass cried a muffled call, one of hurt and fear. And Don tried to lunge to her rescue once more, but was again restrained by the tall boy's hold upon his arms.
Lisa and the other girl laughed and shouted remarks, all ribald, as Marks began to shake his head from side to side, moving her breast as he thrashed, harder, more hurtfully. Soon, Cass moaned another loud, muffled call, and it seemed a signal for blood to ooze from her breast and streak down her bare belly until it became lost as her thighs.
And then Dan Marks released his grip upon her tit and straightened.
"Man, you're a regular vampire," Lisa exclaimed.
"Yeah," Marks replied. He seemed very quiet, as if had been enraged by some new desire for Cass's body. He looked at her. Then he turned and looked at the others.
"What's the matter, aren't you going to do any cutting?" the boy holding Don asked.
"I got another idea," Marks answered. He turned and stared at Cass again.
The white of one breast and her flat belly, and even her firm thighs, were streaked with odd-sized lines of blood. She was lined like a crazy road map. But she seemed less hurt than indignant, less pained than angry.
Marks walked closer and stared down into her face. Defiantly, Cass glared at him, arched her head back so that she could cast her hate directly into his eyes. And that sudden arch of her throat caused a reaction in Marks. His body suddenly trembled, then he turned to Lisa.
"Take the gag out of her mouth," he ordered.
"Hey, are you crazy!"
"Take it out," he said again.
"But she'll yell."
"No she won't," Marks said, Not for long, anyway."
Lisa cocked her head to one side. Her eyes, widened in curiosity. Then she moved toward Cass. But when she started to tug at the rough towel loosening it from her mouth, Marks stopped her.
"Never mind," he said. "I'll do it."
Lisa looked at him, then stepped back.
Dan Marks hovered over Cass a moment. Then he brought one hand to the towel. He waited a second then gave a mighty jerk upon the towel, dragging it hurtfully from her mouth and throat.
"Uhhhhhh," she suddenly breathed. Her tone was low and dry sounding.
Marks waited. Her head slumped forward. Then it raised. For a moment she looked at Don and it was as if she was conveying a message to him, telling him to wait, that it would soon be over, that they would be free, telling him, it seemed, that she, and perhaps he, must suffer for a little while before it could all be behind them, before they could resume a life that was absent of evil and corruption.
Marks wadded the towel into his hand, made a rough, hard ball of it. Then he paused and looked around as if undecided as to exactly what his next move was.
He glanced at Lisa, let his eyes travel over all her body. Then he glanced at the naked Cass, then the other girl, then back to Cass. Then his body relaxed a bit. Quickly, he raised one hand and unclasped the buttons of his shirt. Still holding the towel with the other hand, he removed his shirt, exposing the hard muscled lines of his football-body.
"Hey, you gone crazy or something?" Lisa asked.
"Yeah," he breathed, still staring at Cass. "Crazy. Real, real crazy." He paused as he kicked off his loafers and pulled his socks from his feet. Then, as he loosened his belt and squirmed from his trousers and shorts, he said to Lisa, "You and Marge get out of your duds, too."
"Now you're talking" Lisa exclaimed.
"Quickly, she pulled her sweater over her head. She was bare beneath it. Her breasts heaved forward like crashing hills. And her nipples were the stalwart signal towers upon those hills. Then she wiggled her hips and disbanded skirt, half-slip, and finally her shoes. Marge, the other girl, a similar rendition of Lisa in dress and physical attributes, did the same-undressed gleefully and without inhibition.
Don watched the teenaged girls as they scurried to nudity. He looked at their breasts, full and round and very firm, at their nipples which blazed deep pink, were long and hard. And he looked at their small waists and flaring hips, at their legs, shapely and vibrant. He looked at them. At all of their bodies. Then he looked at Cass, nude, a prisoner, awaiting some horror from the naked boy, and he knew that his own body was drained of lust for the young, that he was without ability for them any more. And he was glad. It was the way it should be. Then Don looked again at Cass and felt deep sorrow for the waste he had committed, for the time and contrivance he had given to the very young while a woman had waited for him-a woman who now, he feared, would have nothing but loathing for him.
Lisa and her friend, Marge, wiggled nudely to Marks' side where he stood in front of Cass.
"Okay, Dan, what have you got planned?" Lisa asked.
His eyes went vacant, "I don't know."
"You don't know!" the other girl complained.
"No, I don't know." His voice was as if it originated from a distance far away.
"Man, you're flipping," Lisa said.
"Maybe," he answered, his voice still distant and uncertain.
The girls grew quiet. It was as if they sensed some determination by Marks, some event that might shock and thrill and change their lives.
His body rippled. The muscles glistened with perspiration. Then he raised his hand with the bunched towel in it, and he seemed to quiet for a moment. He raised the towel above Cass's face, then he quickly lowered it, seeking to jam it within her mouth, return it to where it had rested as a gag. But he could not. Cass kept her teeth tightly clamped. Marks exclaimed a grunt of anger, then brought his other hand to her collar bone. He gripped her there, pressuring his thumb tightly into the hollow.
Her eyes bulged with pain. She moved her head from side to side as if the motion might lessen the hurt that had come to her. And finally, as Marks continued to pressure his strength against her, she cried out, unable to keep from opening her mouth.
Marks jammed the rough towel into her mouth. Then he jammed harder as Cass writhed in the chair, as Marks pressured harder at the hollow of her collar bone. He hovered over her like an angry cloud. He worked furiously, jamming the towel deeper and deeper into her throat as the naked girls watched him, intrigued by his effort, by the way he reacted.
Again, Don fought against his captor's hold upon him, but he could not free himself. But the boy who gripped Don's arms seemed less intent upon keeping him prisoner than he did the frantic action taking place before his eyes. He breathed heavily, as if in awe of the scene he witnessed. And the girls standing at Dan's side, seemed awed too by the strange compulsion which had taken their comrade.
When Cass's eyes looked as if they would pop from her head, when she gurgled the muffled sounds of strangulation, Marks whipped the towel out of her mouth, allowed her a fierce, dry sob, then jammed it to her again. And then he repeated the action again and again, each time showing the response within himself.
Lisa, glancing at him, whispered, "My God."
Marge looked and gulped a muffled sound of astonishment.
But Marks was oblivious to them all, without knowledge of them, at least until he knew Cass's rejection.
"Hold me," he suddenly mumbled to Cass as he continued to jam the towel deep into her throat, withdraw it, then jam it again.
When Cass made no move to do his bidding, he cried out again, "Hold me, goddamn it. Hold me! Take me! Twist me, do something to me for crissakes!"
Cass merely closed her eyes, made no move to tear her hands from her bindings.
"Lisa," Marks shouted. "Lisa-for crissakes, untie her-let her hand loose-quick-now, for crissakes, now."
Lisa, as if suddenly frightened, made no comment. But she hurried to the back of the chair and after a few moment's fumbling, freed one of Cass's hands. Cass brought it forward at the same time forcing her hand to him.
"Take me, goddamn it," he ordered
"He released her hand. And Cass allowed it to fall back into her lap, rejecting him even as she was forced to know a new, hurtful descent of the towel into her throat.
Marks' body rumbled and trembled like an earthquake ready to break open all the earth. He jammed harder at her throat, stuffing the towel ever deeper, yanking it clear in a greater, more painful withdrawal.
But at last he knew that this was not enough. That he could do nothing but increase his excitement by the continued gagging of his beautiful subject. And there had to be some end, some contact that would make an end.
"Lisa! Marge!" he called out as he jammed the towel deep another time. "Take me. Hold me. Grab me, for crissakes grab me-both of you-right now or I'm going to die."
The girls looked at each other. Then they moved closer.
For a moment, both Lisa and Marge stood at each side of Marks as he continued to violate Cass with the towel. Then Lisa took the initiative. She reached with her right hand and grasped him, stroking his giant cock. And Marge moved closer, then waited as Lisa began a furious manipulation, a twisting and turning and yanking and jerking that matched in every way the desires his shuddering body lurched to attain. In a moment, Marge, too, reached and made her grasp. Her hand gripped lower than Lisa's, moved with as much speed but in a different rhythm, one of squeezing and crunching, then releasing.
Marks threw the towel into the air. Cass's head slumped forward. The girl's hands worked incessantly and Dan Marks arched deeply to their giving. And then it was over. The girl's flying hands, the deep arch of his body, the deep stretch he made of himself. It was over. Everything.
Don lowered his head, trying not to witness this strange, sick finale of perverted lust, of a perverted lust that even those children who plied it did not truly understand. Nor would they, thought Don, not until their lives had corrupted to some final, awful end.
Silence prevailed throughout the room. It was a sick silence, as if everyone had stood a death watch and knew not how to explain it. Soon, the silence was filled with Cass's exerted breathing, its harshness, and then at last, its even rhythm.
Marks finally raised from his slouched, exhausted position. He looked around as if awakening from an evil dream. Then embarrassment flushed and streaked his face. He avoided everyone's eyes. He picked up his clothes, turned his back to all and dressed.
Wordlessly, Lisa picked up her clothes and began to do the same. Marge followed her example. And at last, the boy who held Don's arms pinned behind him, released his hold. No one moved. Everyone waited. It was silent again for a long, long time.
Finally, it was Lisa who spoke. Her tone was different, held both shock and shame.
"We'd better get out of here," was all she said.
It was enough. The others made no reply but slowly filed out of the room. When the door closed behind them, Don leaped forward to the chair that held Cass. His heart ached. His mind felt sick. And his fingers fumbled at her bindings.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Silence prevailed between Don and Cass as the rented car sped toward Blair. Often, Don glanced at her, hoping to find some sign-something-anything-that would convey what she felt, what she thought, her reaction to the previous night, and, especially to him. But there was nothing. Not for a very long time. And when Cass did at last speak, her feelings still remained a mystery, her words merely those of inquiry.
"Are you glad we're through?" she asked.
"With the interviewing?"
"Yes, of course."
"I'm very glad it's all over," he said.
Cass grew silent again. She turned a bit and slumped deeper in the seat next to Don. He glanced at her. She looked none the worse for the experience of the previous evening. She looked as beautiful as any woman, Don had ever seen. And as sexual, too. Her light spring frock was cut rather low in front and the smooth slope of one breast was clearly discernable to Don. He looked at her, at the partly exposed breast, and thought how much more sexual it was than the last evening's total nude view of her. And again he felt the blame for what had happened to Cass. It had kept him awake most of the previous night, it bothered him still. It was he, and his early promiscuity with the teenaged girl Lisa, that had caused Cass the pain and shame and anguish she had suffered at the hands of the steaming boy.
Don slowed the car as he approached a crossroad, then he slowed even more when he saw that the dirt road led to the lake, to the great expanse of water that they would follow the remainder of the way to Blair. Don turned the car down the road, then speeded it, heading straight for the lake. Where the road ended at the beginning of the golden, sandy beach, Don brought the car to a halt, then slowly edged it to the side and within the concealment of a group of large, over-hanging trees. He shut off the ignition. Then he breathed deeply, turned, and looked at Cass.
She pushed upright in her seat. She looked at the lake, at the dark shadows within which they nested, and finally at Don. She smiled. She did not question the detour he had taken from the main road.
"It's beautiful here," she said.
"Yes, very beautiful," he agreed. Then he said, "Cass, I want to tell you something."
"Don't bother, Don. It's not necessary."
"Oh," he said, feeling hurt.
"It's not necessary," she repeated, "because I think I know what you're going to say.
"You couldn't possibly."
"But I do." She hesitated, then added, "All of us-especially I-have things about us that are just as well forgotten now that our work's done."
He brightened a bit. Her words encouraged him, made him lessen in fear for what she might think of him, made him less expect the scorn he was sure she would thrust upon him.
But, Don could not help continue. He could not help beginning his confession.
"You see, Cass," he said. "I've been very foolish. A very, very foolish professor who for a little while forgot his place in the world-his responsibilities-his duty-his-."
She quickly turned to him. One hand reached out and touched at his shoulder. Her fingers were light upon him but Don felt the thrill of her touch as much as if she were nude and churning beneath him.
"Don't, Don," she said quietly. "Don't try to explain-not to me-not to anyone-especially, don't explain to yourself. It's not necessary. The experiences of a few weeks don't really change the kind of man you are. I've already forgotten the-well, the things I've done that bother me. You do the same, Don. You're much too-too-."
"Too what?" he asked.
"Too much of a man," she continued. "Too good a man to let a few weeks change you, So don't."
He caught her hand in his and squeezed her fingers tightly. She pressured his in an answer.
"You don't want an explanation then?" he asked. "An apology?"
"No. Not any more than you want the same from me."
"I don't," he said quickly.
"Then it's over. Forgotten. All right, Don?"
He did not answer. But he smiled. And as his spirits zoomed high, as he thought of what awaited them, Blair, the comfort of the college, the joy they could both find working for that school and the young people who attended it, Don edged closer and opened his arms to Cass.
She moved to him immediately. Then she lifted her face and parted her lips to receive his kiss.
Don felt lost for the first few moments that their lips meshed together, lost in love, in passion, in great, great feeling. And then her lips parted and Don felt her searching tongue, felt its sharpness, the delight it gave, the warm honeysweet draw it made upon him, and with it there was the double pointed sensation of her straining breasts as they burrowed and cuddled to his chest.
Don expelled a desperate sigh and grabbed her close to him. Then he jammed one hand between their bodies to guide upward to one, large tit. He took it as he kissed her and felt her warm breath issue an unheard cry of delight into his mouth. He tried to catch that invisible word, tried to mouth it and make it his, but he could not, there was only her warm breath, her breast, lightly veiled in dress. And then his hand surmounted that cover, sneaked inside the throat of the garment and gripped hot flesh.
Her body shook against him. She pressed tighter. Then, as if she could stand it no longer, she wound her arm tightly around his neck and lowered on the car seat. For a moment they were quiet, unmoving, content that the contact of their bodies should remain as they stretched long together on the car seat, Cass down, slumped in a half-lying position, Don atop her, his head resting between her breasts. And then they were no longer offering only comfort. They were providing heightened passion.
With a little cry, Cass arched, then forcefully exposed her breasts from the bodice of her gown. Don went to them as if they were meant to deliver him from disaster. He kissed, he mouthed, he tongue-wagged against her nipples, went harder, then slowed, then took all of her flesh unto himself. He shook his head from side to side, shook it slowly, lovingly, caressingly, then finally released it to know once again her anxious tongue.
Their tongues mixed for a long time. And for Don it was an ever rising of his already insurmountable joy and glory for the love he was realizing, that love that he knew they would always share.
Slowly, as they kissed, their bodies began to move together, to convey through clothing that which they wished to convey in a unity of bareness.
They separated their mouths. They were both breathing hard, a little frantic, quite desperately, pressuring in spasm for greater, more intimate closeness.
Don moved to achieve it. He swooped one hand beneath her skirt, he wrestled it high, felt the firm warmness of her thighs, then arched upward to burrow closer, to soon arch and achieve the liveliness of her that he wanted. But he hesitated. Then he pulled back, sadly remindful of cars as a setting for youth and illicit love, as the setting of his own sad beginning along the road of adult corruption.
Don flung himself away from her. She raised a bit, was about to cry out her protest, then stopped when Don said, "Come on-this is no place for us-not for us, darling."
"No, of course it isn't," she whispered, the tone sweet, understanding, and very revealing of her trust and love for him.
Don opened the car door. Then he clutched her hand in his and guided her out of the car.
They did not speak as they made a path to the beach, winding around sand bushes, tree stumps, vines and the debris of the beach. When their feet struck the golden sand, they both saw the place at the same time, the place they both knew was meant to be the setting for the culmination of their love. They hurried toward the small space of beach that was surrounded on three sides by thick, heavy bushes.
As if they were entering the mysteries of some childhood castle, Don stood aside as Cass entered the opening of the solitary spot. Then he followed her.
Immediately, they embraced, feeling anew the thrill of their tongues, their pressuring bodies, her breasts, his hands upon them.
And then they could endure no more.
Their bodies jerked apart. His hands flew to the buttons at the front of her dress. She aided his hurried movements, and in a moment she was free and nude and very beautiful before him. Then he hurried to join that nudity, and did join it.
For mere seconds they stood apart, each appraising the nakedness of the other. And it acted as potently as the strongest aphrodisiac. With a cry from Cass, a heave from Don, they stepped forward and crushed their bodies together. This time their kiss was short, made that way by their mounting passion that demanded greater closeness, ultimate unity. But still they delayed that contact that would join them in love's oldest act, the most divine call of all the ages.
Don kissed Cass again but its intent was only to bend her deep and backward to the beach. Then, very gently, he let her lower to the sand. Her body stretched, then her arms reached outward for him to come between them. But he did not. Not immediately. Instead, he moved to his knees, hunched at her side, then like the most devout of supplicants, bent his mouth to a new, more exciting caress of her long, naked body.
"Ohhhhhhh. Ohh!" Cass stammered as Don again mouthed her breasts.
Excitement seared through his body. The warmth and sweetness and soft tenderness of her body was nearly more than he could stand. But he endured it for another few minutes, endured it long enough for him to make a full sweep of her naked body with his probing tongue, long enough for him to delay a bit at her thighs, to round firm flesh below her belly, to her belly, to her ribs, again to her breasts and the long, hard nipples jutting from them, and then, gloriously, happily, to her shoulders, her neck, and her mouth once more.
Now, her kiss tasted differently. It was hotter, more alive, more salty tasting and a little bitter as if it had been stirred by passion, changed by that passion, made sour until it could know sweetness again when the thrill was past and the after-pangs of desire were hers to cherish as a gift from him to her.
Don, his body trembling now, jerked up from her mouth. He scrambled to her knees, moved between them as she raised them in welcome, in anxiety, in great, great relief that he was there, readying himself, only a moment away from that optimum joy of love.
They hissed a long, insane moan of joy together as Don lowered to meet the arch caused by her rioting, joyous hips.
Once joined, they remained that way for a long minute as they concentrated upon their togetherness, as they knew the heat of each other, as she learned his strength and he knew her softness, as they both felt the mounting passion within them as they clung tightly together.
And then Don moved. He rose, pressured a bit from side to side, then shot his hips high and poised, but still joined as Cass continued to pulsate and retain her hold. And then he lowered, faster this time, much faster as if he could not stop. And he could not. Nor could Cass. He pounded. She received. He hoisted high, then plunged. She withdrew, then arched to meet him. And then they delayed for moments again while they formed a circle of their joined bodies, while they knew the delight of movement that was meant for both of them.
"Ohhhhhhhh, Don, Don, Don," Cass cried. "My love ... My ... My-."
The words blubbered into the incoherent sounds of laboring love.
And then they speeded, shot hard to each other, fought as combatants that were nevertheless lovers, foes who loved, lovers who dared to fight their bodies hard against their mate in the greatest expression of love's high, high feeling.
He pounded again, slowed, speeded, went lazy and loving, slow-fucked her, speeded again, hit a peak, surpassed it, yelped a cry of disbelief for all the joy he was about to know, then pounded hard, hard, hard, and even harder.
Cass matched Don's speed. She matched his slackening pace, too, and knew the joy of her own lazy loving when he turned that way. And then they were at their end, there was only their dash to that wall that must be conquered, the mountain to be defeated, that high, high place in the skies that they must reach in order to know the thrill of crashing, tearing, blubbering, zooming, racking descent.
Their bodies thudded hard. Their mouths joined and clamped as their bodies split apart with feeling. And when they quieted, their mouths remained tight to each other as they moaned the whispers of lovers, those soft sounds that followed love's expression, that, for them, told of the future, of sanity and security, of comfort, of worth-while work, and, of the joy they would always share.
