In this candid portrait of a woman obsessed with what in America must be the ultimate sexual taboo incest authoress Faye Jackson spins a web that encompasses far more of what is the plight of all too many women. Incest bears an out-dated stigma. The roots of the taboo associated with it lie in a pragmatism that had been anachronistic since the advent of dependable birth control devices. But the authoress is dealing with a theme whose broad ramifications are far more subtle, the threats far more devious, than sex between blood relatives whatever their relationship might be. Though the incest must inevitably occur in this terse, realistic novel, the crux of the narration treats upon the unnatural alternatives to the "taboo", and it is to the authoress's credit that she has presented the desperate alternative gropings of the heroine, Katherine Beauchamp, in such a manner as to virtually minimize the impact of the taboo act itself when it is compared to the less healthy, less natural avenues she first pursues.
Miss Jackson presents her readers with an almost archetypal figure of a woman in what must be one of womanhood's most desperate states: beautiful, full of life, in her sexual prime and hopelessly unfulfilled. Juxtaposed against this recognizable figure is her opposite counterpart in the newer generation, her son's girlfriend, equally beautiful and fresh, liberal-minded and bursting with love sexually fulfilled at an age when Katherine Beauchamp scarcely was able to comprehend the existence of natural, healthy male-female relationships.
The complication which launches the series of episodes that carries Katherine to the very depths of depravity before she can emerge a whole woman, is another trait still all too common in even our contemporary society, Katherine's perverted channeling of what should have been her own natural sexual instincts into a twisted, possessive mother-love that makes it impossible for her to accept her son's natural and healthy relationship with a woman. She justifies her anger and indignation with the fact that her son is obviously having sex out of wedlock. What Katherine doesn't see, though it will not elude the reader, is that it is not the lack of a sanctimonious blessing, marriage, upon the act that offends her. It is the act itself, the fact of another woman being with her son.
This novel is not, however, a call to incest. Rather, the writer is making a plea ultimately for sexual freedom within the bounds of the marriage union, a plea for healthy and mutual relationships between man and wife. That is the heroine's final goal, however unconscious of this she might be during the bulk of this narration. It is unfortunate that Katherine Beauchamp must have sex with her son before she can have meaningful sex with her husband. Even more unfortunate is the gauntlet of depravity she must run before she ismentally and emotionally prepared to cope with her incestuous longings. But the ultimate catastrophe, which the American reader cannot fail to recognize, is the frustration and unhappiness of eighteen years of marriage without fulfillment which the heroine and her husband have endured.
For readers of Katherine Beauchamp's generation who recognize some aspects of her and her husband's plight in their personal situation, this factual novel is proof that it is not too late to make the changes that will lead to a fruitful relationship hopefully without going to the degrees to which the heroine was blindly driven. For younger married readers and single men or women the book can serve as a warning, can present them with an insight into some of the causes of the numerous "gaps" that have become indispensable terminology in any discussion of the ills of contemporary society.
It is with pride and gratitude that the publishers present authoress Faye Jackson's shockingly vivid and realistic book.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Katherine Beauchamp listened to the automobile approach, a low drone that began far away and drew ever so gradually louder. When she thought it was time for it to round the corner she went to the window and watched, yet knew from the sound of it, or from intuition, this would not be him. When it appeared that was confirmed; it wasn't the Volkswagen bus he'd written her about but a big green car, a Chrysler or Pontiac or one of those. She turned away as it whizzed past the mail box, sighed softly and then took a deep breath that expanded her bosom so she could feel the straps of her brassiere pull at the soft flesh of her shoulders. Through the open top of her blouse she saw the beginnings of her smooth, mounded breasts that flared out suddenly from her body, casting a vague, forbidden-looking shadow between them, straining at the bra cups which hid just the tips of her crimson, perforated nipples.
Her gaze slipped on down her body: the sleek belly from which her pelvic bones flared suddenly, wide and lewdly inviting like a cradle in which nestled her lower abdomen and pubis, the "V" of it distinctly out-lined now in her tight pants, the lithely contoured thighs and very long, slender calves, the small thin ankles. At thirty-five, she had to admit, she was still a very beautiful woman. Then she looked up suddenly, flushing self-consciously, though she was alone and there should have been no reason for that, and paced in one circle around the kitchen. She was off balance today. And strange as it seemed, she dreaded her son Tom's arrival from San Francisco after his first summer away from home almost as much as she anticipated it. And her anticipation had become since his letter, an acute longing that permeated her being, an obsession that made everything except the passage of time, the arrival of that day, today, seem trivial and annoying. She wondered if after his promised week's visit she would miss him again as much as she'd missed him these last three months. She tried to tell herself she would not, that it was only the first separation that was so hard.
Another car came and passed and again, still knowing it wasn't him, she went to the window and watched it. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and sugared it and sat at the table and stroked her black silken hair, almost loath to drink it now and further jangle her already unsteady nerves. And once more her eyes went to her body. If anything, she thought, she was more attractive now than she had been at ... say ... seventeen when Tom was conceived. Then she'd been almost too sexy, too ripe and bursting with it, radiating it lewdly, her mother had always said. But she'd hardly been aware of that, or of the meanings of the looks she got from men when she walked down the street with her voluptuously ripe hips almost bursting out of the skimpy shorts that exposed and accentuated the beauty of her long bare legs. Sex, in any vivid sense of the act itself at least, was hardly a part of her consciousness then. She knew there was something people did that made babies, knew even without often thinking of it that it consisted of the man inserting his "Thing," while it was hard into the woman's vagina. But she thought that even knowing that she must never have pictured it as a reality, as something someday that would be done to her. It was just a dirty, distant thing, not to be thought about or talked about by respectable girls.
Another distant drone caused her to perk up momentarily; then she realized it was an airplane and settled disconsolately back in her chair. She sipped the coffee without interest. Again the dread and the anticipation of her young son's arrival fought for balance in her mind. In two hours Paul would be back from the office. As that thought struck her she sensed an even greater urgency. Desperately she wanted Tom to arrive before his father got home. She wanted that moment, the first hug, the first glimpse of his lank, sinewy body and wild handsome face to be all hers. Or all hers and hisnot shared, anyway, by Paul, not dulled or somehow even tainted by that half-friendly, half-distant father and son banter and handshaking. Though she was surely a bitch for feeling that way. And where Tom was concerned and where his father and her husband were concerned perhaps she always had been a bitch. A remote memory popped into her mind, that she had not thought of in years, of something that Paul had once said not long after they were married, when Tom was still an infant: "The only sex kicks you get are nursing that goddamn baby."
Perhaps it was true, she thought now. She had never in her life experienced that kind of pleasure. But it wasn't a dirty pleasure. It wasn't sex. It had been something pure, something almost holy. Another sigh escaped her, followed by a sob that though barely audible seemed to evoke in its soft sound all the sadness and longing that welled in her and surged through her body, from deep near her abdomen, through her limbs, in her heart and in those same vibrant and longing breasts that had nursed him so long ago.
Almost consciously her hands moved up, almost touching them, waited hanging poised in the air inches away from the upflung breasts that strained against the blouse. Then, like a child reaching into a forbidden box of candy, she did touch herself, laying both her hands on the full firm breasts, squeezing and kneading them softly through the brassiere cups, teasing the nipples quickly to prickling points that made vivid protrusions through the flimsy bra and soft material of her blouse.
Tom was a man now, she thought. He was eighteen and he'd lived on his own for a whole summer. He'd left New Mexico with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket and against her will had hitchhiked to San Francisco, where he'd known no one, had no contacts of any kind. He'd worked for three months on the waterfront and managed not only to make his way but to buy an automobile in the bargain. Now, instead of going to college in the fall as she and Paul had always planned, their son wanted to drive around Mexico for a month or two, then go to Central America.
Suddenly she dropped her hands from her pulsating breast, breathing out heavily. A shiver of self-admonition passed through her body. Her hand moved up to softly stroke her long, black hair. Then she grasped the thick strands and twisted it into a tangle. Flustered, she left it tangled, removed her hand again and stood up. She couldn't understand what was happening to her. The dread and anticipation. Though there should have been no connection, she felt somewhat the way she'd felt that night so long ago when sex, the act itself, had suddenly become something real and pertinent in her life.
Paul Beauchamp had grown up in a small town not far from where Katherine had lived in Arizona. He was a track star. He'd won the state championship in the mile run when he was a junior with a time of four minutes and a few odd seconds, which in those days was good enough to put him in the bracket of the most promising high school athletes. Numerous college teams were already bargaining for him. So were quite a few of the girls. But he was shy, studious, and sometimes seemed almost to abhor the attention that was heaped on him, and the flirtations and sometimes even outright propositions of the more forward and worldly-wise of the women. Katherine was one of the most beautiful girls in that part of the state. At sixteen she'd already developed a set of moderately sized yet flawlessly formed breasts; Her legs, which she regularly displayed each fall as she performed as a majorette with the high school band at football games, were renown as a subject of fascination. Her ass was ripe and rippling with invitation, bursting in her tight shorts that stretched thinly over the soft inviting crevice beneath her firmly rounded young buttocks. But even more renown than her legs was her reputation. She was known as a prick tease, but only to the boys who hadn't dated her. Those had called her frigid and uncooperative.
And as far as she was concerned, most of them were just male animals. Sometimes she wondered why she occasionally accepted their frequent invitations. But something, some instinct or feeling that she had to date and even put up with some of the lunging and pawing or perhaps it was simply loneliness kept her going back for more. And it wasn't even so much that she should have minded being kissed, or even caressed a little bit in a decent manner. It was the way they went about it. Whether they were going to a movie and God forbid, never a drive-in or to an occasional party at someone's house or just to the local Dairy Queen Drive-in for a coke and some small talk as a prelude to the parking, the whole night, everything they said and did and pretended to be interested in, seemed to lead to that. They were obsessed with it. And when they began it was always rough and blundering, like words blurted out in anger. They came at her like animals, breathing hard, trembling, their adolescent hands clumsy and over-eager. She thought that was the thing that repulsed her most, their eagerness to do something that was dirty, their disregard for her as a human being with feelings, the relegation of her to an object of sex, a prize to be pawed and taken and used for motives that were purely hedonistic.
It was probably only natural that she and Paul should have come together, though in the beginning she'd thought with him it would be the same as with the others. He'd met her at an inter-school function and they'd seen each other off and on and been on speaking terms for over a year. He called her once and invited her to go to a movie with him and afterwards took her to eat. Later, she would remember that she'd sensed something different in his attitude and conversation. It had seemed he was sincerely interested in the things he said, though now she couldn't even recall the topics. But at the time she must have presumed he was merely more skillful at concealing what was really on his mind. But when they'd finished eating he astonished her by driving her straight home, astonished her even further by simply talking to her, honestly and straight-forwardly in the car for a few moments outside the house. Then he walked her to the door and kissed her good night and said goodbye and left. But even the kiss had been different. There'd been something warm and honest in the way he'd done it, not groping, pawing, lunging, or slurping with his tongue.
They began gradually to go out more often. Paul made a good impression on her mother, who previously had uncategorically refused approval of all the boys Katherine dated. After a while they did park when they went on dates, and they kissed and petted, and Katherine let him go much further than any of the other boys she'd gone out with. But that was because it was different with Paul. In his manner he still lacked that lunging desperation. When he touched or kissed her, she felt that it was all of her and not just her body that he wanted. Sometimes she even liked it a little, the feel of his lips on hers and his tongue snaking into her mouth, his body pressed against hers, mashing her sensitive, silken breasts, his hands touching her velvety smooth buttocks, caressing her softly rounded thighs from the outside of her dress or sometimes even, at least her lower thighs, from beneath it. And of course that was still a far cry from the sex act itself, from that horrible image that now occasionally did invade her consciousness, the thought of them actually naked, panting and moaning and wrestling, the thought of his male hardness, which at times inadvertently she had brushed with her hand and perceived, or felt prodding at her belly as they embraced, actually violating her chaste vagina. That was something they would do only after they were married, if they ever got married it had seemed to creep proposal; she was happy with Paul and she loved him and he felt the same way about her and respected her besides. But even thinking of it after they were married, it had a remoteness from her, or she had an immunity from it. She thought of it still with no more sense of its reality than her sense of the reality of pain of childbirth.
Sometimes, he went too far for comfort. Once he managed to get her brassiere unbuttoned and his hands beneath her sweater. His fingers massaged them to maddening hardness, made inexplicable tingles emanate from her nipples and course like gentle shocks through her body. She liked it and at the same time she hated it. Most of all she feared it, something strange and unknown about the fluttering and surges of wanting that welled in her body. Then she'd felt his other hand slide beneath her skirt. A sigh escaped her and she heard his breathing, that harsh guttural gasping of breath that came too fast, like the breathing of the moronic sex maniacs she'd dated before. But even with the confusing revulsion she'd felt, she hadn't resisted as his hand moved up the cool soft flesh of her thighs, pushing them apart, stroking the taut inner tendon that ran down out of the elastic legband of her panties. Shivering, she put her arms around him, hugging his face to her swollen breasts that had popped out of the cups of her bra. Then she felt his finger wriggle up under the soft nylon crotchband of her panties, stroking and parting her thinly curling pubic fuzz, worming into the slit of her vagina and brushing and titillating her moist, tortuously throbbing little clitoris.
She writhed sensuously beneath his touch, squirming her body down in the car seat so he could almost stretch out on top of her, at his urging even further parting her smooth, milk-white thighs, letting the tip of his middle finger begin to probe into the burning wet slit of her exposed little pussy mouth.
Then she sobbed again and pushed his face from her breasts, struggling beneath him and clamping her thighs shut on his hand. She opened them again and grappled with him until she could push his hand from beneath her skirt.
Reluctantly he slid off her and straightened up in the car seat. In a moment she also raised up and though she was unable to snap it, managed to at least fit the cups of the bra back over her tingling breasts.
"You're right, I guess," he said grudgingly after they'd caught their breath. "We don't want to do it like this."
She hadn't known what he meant then. It was two weeks later, a Sunday afternoon after Paul had broken the state high school record for the mile run, and had graduated and tentatively accepted a scholarship to New Mexico State University, that she found out what he'd meant by that.
He'd taken her and her mother to church that morning, then had Sunday dinner with them. Then he and Katherine drove over to his parents house to spend the afternoon. She wasn't particularly surprised to find they weren't home; nor were her suspicions aroused when Paul told her they'd gone to Bakersfield, California and wouldn't be back until Monday night. They listened to a baseball game on the radio and Paul drank a couple of beers from the six pack his father kept in the icebox, something she'd never seen him do. After the game ended he got up and motioned for her to follow him. She did, still unsuspecting. Only when they got to his bedroom and she turned and saw the look in his eyes, a look of faint nervousness overwhelmed by a calm determination and a longing and an appreciation of her virginal, inviting body that though discomforting still was not quite tike the fanatical boyish lechery she used to see in the eyes of the boys she used to date, did she truly understand.
She tried to meet his determined gaze and found herself unable to, averted her eyes and looked down at her body with an almost curious sheepishness. She was wearing a short sleeved sweater that buttoned down the front, that lay down in the crease between her breasts so they rose up like small pointed hills on each side of it. Her skirt and in those days they wore them below the knees nonetheless out-lined the lithe perfection of her thighs and was tight enough to accentuate the flare of her well ripened young buttocks.
She looked up at him again and took a step backward toward the door, nervously shaking her head.
"No, Paul."
There was a look in his face she'd never seen before. In all that resolution in his eyes there was a frightening strength. She felt like cowering before it. Something in her, even at that instant, wanted to yield willingly to the sinful thing she knew without words he'd already distinctly proposed. But at the same time she was repulsed. And most of all she was afraid.
"No," she said again.
"Why not?"
"I'm going back to the den," she stuttered. Hearing herself say it, it seemed absolutely a stupid thing. It probably was.
He shook his head, half turned and walked over along side his bed. She started to go out of the room but his voice stopped her.
"Come here, Katherine." She paused, looking over her shoulder back at him. Now he wasn't even watching her. "Relax and come over here and sit down. I'm not going to force you to do anything."
She took two hesitant steps before he added: "I'm not going to have to force you."
She stopped again, trembling, that mingling dread and anticipation making her mouth dry, her stomach flutter.
"Paul? What are you ... ? We're going to wait ... until we're married?" Somehow that sounded foolish too. And Paul was shaking his head, now a look of condescension in his eyes. "I'm going," she blurted suddenly, trying to conjure some evidence of resolution in her own voice.
"Home?"
"Paul?"
"Are you saying you want to go home?"
"Paul?"
"It won't even be possible for us to get married for at least a year. I don't want to wait that much longer."
"I'm a virgin, Paul. And ... and I want to be a virgin ... for you ... when we are married."
Even that, somehow, was a lie. She'd never thought about wanting to be a virgin for him.
"I am too," he said with a remarkable calmness. "And I don't want to be anymore. And I want the first time to be with you, because I love you. Not with someone I don't care anything about."
That, somehow, did it. Though she still hadn't consciously yielded, it must have been inevitable as she walked toward him, thinking she walked there because she wanted just to embrace him, out of gratitude for saying that, out of love for him, but still not quite admitting that she was going to do what he asked.
But his determination was not going to waiver. He took her into his arms when she reached him, clinging her light supple body to his, his lips covering hers and his tongue warring with hers for a place in her mouth, his hands roving forcefully over her back, squeezing her and crushing her to him.
She only faintly struggled as he unbuttoned the sweater and pulled it apart, revealing the upper half of her luxurious breasts pushed up high and together by her brassiere, the rich amber hue of her flesh heightened by the white of her slip.
"No, Paul," she murmured faintly through her own heightened breathing as he pushed the sweater off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor behind her.
Then he took her face in his hands, a palm on each of her cheeks, and tilted it up toward his own. He looked down at her with a smile that though still resolute was almost tender.
"Take your slip off."
"No."
"Yes."
"I ... I might get pregnant."
"I have something for that. Take your slip off and get into bed."
He kissed her lightly, then stepped back and began to unbutton his shirt. Unbelieving, she watched him. But the uncanny stirring in her loins was only heightened by the sight of his lean, muscular torso. Scarcely believing it was really happening to her, the fear and the dread waging a seeming death-grip struggle in her mind, she peeled the slip over her head, reached behind her back and unfastened the bra, hunched her shoulders to let it slither off her arms. A sob of incredulity escaped her as she saw her flawless bared breasts exposed, as she was aware of the almost incredible beauty of their bursting firmness, of the pert swollen nipples, rich and dark-colored, and was aware that Paul also was seeing them for the first time. And beneath the soft flimsy covering of her silken panties, which now was all that protected her, she knew he could also see the lovely forbidden shadow of triangle of her pubic hair. She dropped her hands into the waistband of her panties, still struggling against both the fear and the desire. She wanted to turn, even now, and run from the room. But the mere touch of her own hands there on the silken flesh of her belly sent currents of irrefutable desire through her. In a sudden, almost impulsive gesture she rolled them down over her hips, balanced on one leg and worked the other out, then stood, naked, like a young Grecian goddess before him.
She watched with a strange combination of fascination and horror as he pulled off his trousers. Even before he removed his underwear she could see the incredible bulge of his engorged cock, standing up like a tent pole in his drawers. But when he pulled them off a gasp of fear burst from her. It was even more bigger and more frightening than she had imagined, almost purple with the blood that filled it, far too huge to ever fit up inside her small, virginally tight vagina.
"No, Paul," she whimpered as he approached her.
His eyes, with a deep appreciation, traversed the length of her nakedly trembling young body. Then he pulled her to him again, kissing her passionately, one of his hands kneading gently at her firmly quivering breasts and the other squeezing her smoothly flaring buttocks, his finger snaking between the softly giving crevice between the warm white moons to miraculously curl beneath them, and find the exposed little slit of her vagina nestled in the sparsely growing pubic hair that was already slightly damp with her involuntarily rising pussy juices.
After that it seemed almost to happen too fast. She was in a delirium of mingled terror and desire. He'd pushed her onto the bed on her back, kissing and sucking the hardened little nipples of her breasts, his hands roving over her smooth belly and between her silken thighs to stroke her pleading clitoris and gently probe at the slick wet lips of her cunt. After a while, though it could have been only moments or might have been some time, he'd rolled off her and leaned off the bed to get something out of his trousers. She watched out of the corner of her eyes as he unwrapped the foil with trembling fingers to reveal the thinly transparent rubber sheath and fit it over the end of his hardened cock. Unrolled on it, it looked like a tight, clear-plastic balloon.
She'd said no again and she thought she struggled with him as he'd rolled back upon her and spread her thighs apart with his knees. She cried as she felt his huge, rubber-enclosed young penis prod between them, felt his hands seek out her vaginal cunt and fit it slowly into the tight fleshy lips. Then she screamed and saw red as the blinding pain surged through her, as she felt the enormous thing cutting into her, going where it could not go, where there was no place for it, inching its way in slowly as he covered and filled her mouth with his wetly swirling tongue to smother her scream.
Nor did she know how long it had lasted. She remembered that at last it seemed it had been all the way in her, or as deep as it would go in her overfilled young belly, and the pain had sought a level and didn't increase further, only came in sporadic flashes as he began the slow, in-and-out fucking motion, as he again began to gently caress the other parts of her body even as he tortured her violated vaginal cavity. She may even have blanked out for a time.
It seemed that all too soon she had felt his penis expand suddenly deep up inside her and explode and it was over and she was awake again, but a delirious kind of consciousness, and he'd finished and lain still upon her, the size of his excited male hardness that filled her gradually diminishing. Then he withdrew and looked at her sheepishly.
"Katherine, honey, I've lost the rubber up in you. Let me put my finger in and get it out."
She stared at him incredulously, then screamed and pushed him away. She got up and ran naked to the bathroom, and filled with shame she searched inside, her fingers sending stabs of pain through her, until she found it and threw the bloody, sperm-dripping thing into the toilet.
She returned from her reverie suddenly, with a vague disorientation, as though her spirit had flown with her wandering mind and on their return to this time and place they hadn't quite rejoined.
She couldn't quite believe the sound she heard, the sputtering of an automobile engine in front of the house. She sat and listened to it dumbly. Then it stopped and she heard the beeping of a horn, then the slam of a door. She jumped up suddenly, breathless. She had the strangest impulse, that she had to get to a mirror and make sure she was arranged, was looking her best, before he saw her. But instead she chided herself for her vanity at a time like this and ran to the front door.
He was standing beside the Volkswagen, tall, still handsome and young-looking and healthy, his hair a little bushier and sideburns longer than when she'd last seen him, even at this distance a glint in his eye he had not had three months ago, but all in all looking no worse for his time away.
"Mom!"
Then she was going through the door, bounding down the steps and running; then she was in his strong long arms, against his hard chest, sobbing, mashing her soft bosom, her face buried to hide the happy tears. She felt his strong but gentle hands move over her back, felt his chin snuggle against her head. Then, after a joyous moment of the sensation of her son's body against her own, he was pushing her gently back.
"Mom," he whispered. "Mom. I want you to meet my girl friend. Lys."
She drew away suddenly, a lump in her throat, her face wrinkled with bitterness even before she saw the tiny blond girl in obscenely tight shorts and a skimpy halter that hid only her nipples and a little bit of the golden-tanned skin around them, with waist length hair that looked fluffy as golden fleece, supple thighs, tanned like her breasts with a silken coat of downy hair on them bleached white by sun to make the tan look even richer, and almost barefoot in a pair of flat wood sandals that laced with thin leather thongs almost to her knees to give a curious, almost Egyptian slave effect.
CHAPTER TWO
Katherine didn't know at first if it was a sound that had awakened her, or her shattered nerves, or if she had not been asleep at all, merely lulling in a conscious dream of escape from which reality had brutally wrenched her back.
The darkness in her bedroom was impenetrable. Beside her she could hear her husband, Paul's, even breathing. Beyond that, now silence. Yet she waited still, listening intently for some movement in the other part of the house.
That Tom might someday come home with a girl like this one had never entered Katherine's mind. On fleeting occasions she had allowed herself to realize that he was becoming a man, a handsome man with a man's body, and that he inevitably would attract a number of women wherever he was. And of course he'd been popular and dated a lot in high school. A couple of the girls he'd gone out with had even worried her some, though she was certain she'd never shown it, either because they had reputations for or exuded an air of sexuality, or because she thought Tom liked them a little too much. But there had been nothing serious. She'd never had to face the fact, by virtue of any direct evidence, that he'd been to bed with a woman. And she'd always taken for granted that someday he'd meet a girl and become engaged, eventually marry her. But that had been a dream, she thought, like long ago sex had been: not a part of her reality but something far off in a distant and dubious future. And to further isolate herself from this eventuality, she'd fabricated for this role a vague picture of an angelic and pure creature, radiating chastity and spirituality. This girl radiated sex!
It was not just her skimpy dress, or her walk, that was a musical shuffle in which her entire scarcely cloaked body seemed to roll, to undulate in evocation of a movement done more commonly in a non-upright position. Nor was it that look of invitation in her crystal blue eyes and on her pursed sultry lips, a look she seemed to reserve not just for her boyfriend, but for everyone, Paul, even Katherine, a look of open invitation that combined challenge and surrender. Nor was it just her beautiful body, the hard round buttocks that looked as if they would tear out of her shorts if she bent over to pick up something she'd dropped, or her breasts, which even in the skimpy halter revealed all their magnificent shape, that were not large yet still were overbearing and obtrusive perhaps so even in the mere fact of their perfection. Nor her beautiful face. It was all this and more, to the very air around her. An air of hedonism and sexuality. And it had taken Katherine only minutes to see that Tom was blinded by it completely. Later at dinner it seemed that Paul was just as taken in. There was a look in his eyes Katherine, thankfully, did not often see anymore.
But something else about the girl irritated her almost even more. The fact that she was not ashamed of it; rather, she was proud, but even that was a pride without arrogance. And of course she had sensed Katherine's immediate and unyielding animosity toward her, a hatred she'd not been able to cloak even after the initial shock had dispersed, that had lingered through a tense dinner and difficult conversation afterwards until they'd all had the chance of escape afforded by a couple of remarkably almost passable T.V. programs. But the girl's response had not been any of the things Katherine might have expected. She had not been ruffled at all. She was neither bitter, aloof nor flaunting. Even in the face of Katherine's bursting, thwarted rage, which had vexed even Tom and Paul, she seemed warm and open, almost loving. Something about it made Katherine's skin crawl.
Suddenly she stiffened in bed. Now she did hear a sound, the sound she knew must have awakened her, must have suspected even then and been waiting for confirmation of those suspicions. It was from the guest bedroom, where she'd grudgingly put the girl up. The first sound must have been when the girl had got out of bed. Now she was opening the door, now walking down the hall past the door to Katherine and Paul's room, now turning off through the patio. She knew, as she'd known all along from the instant she'd first suspected the sounds, that there was only one place she could be going. She had her own bath adjoining the guest room and to get to the kitchen she should have continued on along the hall. The little vixen was going to Tom's room!
She lay motionless and silent for a long time, listening though she knew it would be impossible to hear anything less than a real racket from there. Then she rolled onto her side, and curled her legs up almost to her breasts. She imagined what must be happening in that room now, and the lurid visions that raced through her mind made her shiver. She squeezed her eyes tight and held her breath, gritted her teeth and stiffened her body until she almost shook. But she couldn't get the visions out of her mind. In a few minutes, or maybe they'd even started already, her son was going to be having sex with that girl, right here in his own mother's house. The thought of it was almost more than she could stand. She felt insulted and repulsed, as if the shock she'd already been through today was only being compounded, as if she'd been defeated already, and now they were trodding her into the ground. She felt like a heartbroken woman who's man had run off with a slut, then come back and moved with her into the house across the street.
But she had to hear it, the sounds of whatever lewd thing it was they were going to do or were already doing in Tom's room. She had to, no matter how repulsive an act it would be for her to eavesdrop, no matter how much more what she heard would hurt her.
Once she'd decided to make certain of what they were doing, it was as if nothing could stop her. Impelled by her obscene craving she slithered naked from beneath the sheets, in the darkness found her way to the closet and pulled her flimsy robe from the door. Clutching it loosely together at her waist, not bothering to tie the sash and leaving her unencumbered breasts to swing freely in front of her in the cool night air, the nipples swelling with an exciting tingle, she fled out the door and down the hall. Behind her she heard her husband shift in the bed, but he was a sound sleeper. She knew he wouldn't awake.
In the patio she paused at the entrance to the small foyer that gave way to her son's room. Through the skylight the almost full moon shined, casting a soft and eerie light over her flimsily cloaked body. The nylon robe clung to her flesh like a thin veil, revealing all her luxurious contours. In this light, her silken body glowed darkly, the combination of shadows and illumination defining the soft curves of her breasts and satin thighs revealed beneath the short gown.
What am I doing? she thought. To come here intentionally to eavesdrop on this wicked thing is as terrible as the act itself. But she didn't turn back. She tip-toed into the foyer, before her a crack of light that marked Tom's partially opened door, listening intently.
For a moment she heard nothing. She seized the fleeting hope that perhaps she'd been mistaken, that the shameless young girl that had taken her son had merely gotten confused and followed the wrong route to the kitchen. And as that idea flashed in her mind, she felt a strange, sinking, an inexplicable let down. She understood suddenly that she did want the act to happen, did want to hear it. She wanted it proven to herself once and for all that her suspicions and her dislike of the girl were well-founded and not mere fantasies of an estranged imagination.
Two steps closer to the door and now she was a mere four or five feet away from it she stopped again. A wave of relief, yet a terrible kind of relief, flowed through her as she heard a woman's soft moan, light and frivolous, almost like a giggle.
Then she heard Tom's voice: "Lys, I feel terrible about the way my mother treated you tonight."
Had the girl come here just to talk to him? she thought with a wave of indignation. "It's all right," the girl said. "No. It's not all right."
"She just doesn't understand," Lys said. "She's from another generation. Their hang-ups hover above them like a cornucopia, a great weight spilling over them. It's not her fault. They don't know what the joy is, of giving your body freely, of loving without guilt. And they can't help but resent someone who does know how to do it."
Katherine felt the hatred well in her with a flourish. The vile, condescending bitch! Then Lys added: "I just hope that before we leave for Mexico I can change that. Make her understand, maybe even like me."
She wanted to burst through the door at that, screaming that she would never accept her, never accept a moralless little whore who had corrupted her son and who was flagrantly flaunting that fact in his mother's own house.
Then a soft purr from the bedroom stopped her. She froze, listening to the girl giggle, listening to the shifting movement of their two bodies on the bed that made the springs creak softly.
"Hey, do that again." She heard Tom say.
Katherine's body stiffened with expectation. She waited. Again she heard a shifting on the bed.
"Lower," her son moaned. Then he sighed softly, then said, "You have the most beautiful tits in the world. Rub it with the nipples ... Yes. Like that."
For a moment she didn't understand. Then her mind conjured the image, and as if to confirm that Tom said: "Push them together and squeeze it between them." He sighed again. "Yes, like that."
He was thrusting it up between her breasts. His penis, which must now bear little or no resemblance to the cute and tiny little thing she remembered from his childhood, but rather be like Paul's as it had looked to her that first night: ugly and grotesquely large, threatening and yet in the threat somehow weirdly beautiful, the way an extremely homely face can reach a state of grotesquerie that makes it beautiful like a craggy chiseled sculpture. And with that penis he was screwing her, fucking her was what they'd no doubt call it as she knew that word had become commonplace in the language of the younger generation, between those small, wide and high breasts with the big pointed nipples that had looked like darts almost punching through her flimsy halter. They would be goose bumped now, as her own were, the nipples swollen and tingling, with her son's heated male hardness tunneling up between them, agitating their vibrant softness, making them swell even harder and fuller.
For a long time she listened to the silence. They said nothing. Then she heard her son moan deeply. "Yes," he gasped. "Lower. Lower ... Suck it in your mouth, Lys. All of it!"
She didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to see the vision that imprinted itself on her unwilling mind. The feelings that surged through her own body at the thought of it, at the thought of that girl or any girl taking her son's or any man's penis in her mouth, sucking and kissing it like a child with a sucker, repulsed her. She felt almost sick at her stomach; yet it was a light and nervous kind of nausea that sent tingles fluttering through her being, like fear on an empty stomach.
Unconsciously her hand touched her stomach. She'd no longer bothered to hold the robe together and it hung wide open to reveal the splendor of her naked breasts, which were larger and longer and more mature than Lys's, her downy belly laying small and flat between her flaring pelvic bones, and there between her lush thighs that foreboding triangle of darkly curling pubic hair. Furtively her hand crept down her belly and into the waiting curls which felt so soft and silken to her fingers. She uttered a muffled sob as her hand touched the ripe, moist bud of her clitoris. Again her mind cried out silently: what am I doing? But she couldn't stop The obscene, electric twinges that shot through her demanded more. Lewdly, she began to massage that soft delicate pulsating bud rapidly with her finger.
"Ohhhhh, Jesus!" Tom moaned. She heard a bouncing sound on the bed that she knew could mean only one thing. He was actually thrusting it in and out of her now, using her mouth the way a man used a vagina. And he was probably holding her head, by the hair or by her ears, shoving his cock deeply and viciously into her open mouth between those full pouty lips of the young girl. A lurid triumph surged in her. The image was so debasing and degrading. In a strange way she loved the thought of it. Of her son using that woman's mouth as a receptacle for his virile young semen, using her mouth as if it were nothing more than a thin, hairless cunt to be fucked until it made his waiting testicles explode with orgasm.
"I'm going to cum in a minute," he said quietly, almost with a calm in his voice, a matter of factness.
The girl made a nearly unintelligible sound, but the meaning of it was clear enough: yes. With her mouth filled, her lips stretched wide and the huge male hardness pounding all the way back to her tonsils, she was saying yes to the prospect of having its milk-white semen spewed deep into her throat!
Though the thought nauseated her even further, Katherine still felt the surging triumph, the confirmation of all her suspicions about the girl, as she head the unmistakable sounds, the gasping and grunting and the rapid pounding of the bed, as Tom shot off in her mouth and the girl noisily swallowed it down.
Then they were silent suddenly and she had to stop the frantic ministrations of her own hand on her tortured and pleading clitoris. Then there was one last noise, though maybe she only imagined it: she thought she heard the girl gurgle, swallowing.
"Now your turn," Lys said.
Katherine almost fell to her knees. She hadn't dreamed that would come next, that the situation would be reversed and that her son, of whose masculine young virility she'd become these last few moments almost proud in a lurid obscene way, would allow his mouth to also be used that way. She'd heard of it, but she thought she only had half-believed it. That a man would do that to a woman. Eat her pussy, they called it.
"Put the pillow under your ass," Tom said. "Like this and your cunt way up with your legs spread wide."
She started to turn and run sobbing back to her bedroom. She wanted to escape, to wake up and find this had all been a dream, not just this but everything that had happened since her eighteen year old son had come home. But instead she took two more steps forward, so close to the door she could have pressed her face to it, and she gazed through the crack of it and saw in the dresser mirror the reflection of the two figures on the bed. Her son's girlfriend was lying flat on her back, her arms extended up in a wide "V" above her head to grasp the bedstead, her thighs spread wide and her feet planted out to the sides to give leverage to her hips, which were propped up high by the two pillows beneath them. Kneeling at the foot of the bed between her parted thighs, leaning forward just now to kiss her exposed, golden-haired young pussy was her son Tom! Katherine's hands returned to her own loins and sobbing with almost masochistic joy, she resumed her frenzied fingering of herself up between her open thighs.
CHAPTER THREE
Katherine could hardly face her family, and the hated, strange girl who had invaded it, the next morning at breakfast. The things she had seen the night before, and the terrible odd thing she had done to herself in her crazed delirium, seemed like something out of an old, almost forgotten dream, a nightmare whose memory crept with eerie surrealism into the present. But she knew it was real.
What she could hardly believe was that they seemed not the least bit ashamed about it, not at all worried about what she might think. Of course they should have had no reason to suspect that she had heard and seen them. But the mere fact that they had done it in her house, so close to her, should have shown on their faces, she thought. But nothing showed. Tom seemed almost his old self and displayed none of the bitterness toward Katherine she had detected in his voice last night when she'd first gone out into the hallway to listen to them. He was going into town to see some of his old friends, whom he was confident he would find at their old hang out at the pool hall. He was anxious to see them and in the best of spirits, and he displayed an appetite comparable to the one he used to have when he played high school football. His mother found it hard to believe he was the same young boy she'd seen last night, kneeling like a slave between the blonde's spread legs, licking hungrily at the wetly throbbing slit of her silken-haired cunt.
Lys had an air of guiltlessness and contentment that vexed Katherine terribly. It exuded from her, like the sexuality, a mood of innocence and joy that Katherine felt mocked her in her own guilt and disgust. Worse, she had to admit this morning that the girl was beautiful. She was wearing a man's shirt, tied up in a knot just below her breasts, and no brassiere so that their wide full shape could be clearly seen, the nipples hardened by the material brushing over them, easily distinguished. Her skin-tight levis out-lined the curvaceous swells of her buttocks and the provocative "V" of her crotch, and hung low on her hips, far below the dark hole of her navel, adorned by that silken peach-fuzz hair bleached by the sun that had turned her skin golden, almost bronze. And still the lewd sexuality radiated from her. Every movement she made, very look in her eyes evoked images that recalled the scene Katherine had witnessed last night. She and her husband, Paul, got involved in a conversation, and though Tom seemed unruffled it looked to Katherine as though she were trying now to come on to her boyfriend's father. The way she smiled at him, touched his hand as she tried to make a point in her conversation, the way she threw her shoulders back and arched her bosom in his face all of it seemed to Katherine as an open invitation. But she decided that was absurd. Her "hang ups", as Lys had called them last night, must have caused her imagination to get carried away. That was too much for her to suspect.
Though she didn't look forward to the errand she had to run in Albuquerque that morning, Katherine was almost relieved to have an excuse to leave the house and not have to confront the participants in last night's horrible scene. And maybe, she tried to tell herself, it wasn't really that bad. Maybe if she had a little time to herself she would feel better. She left the dishes for later, said a curt goodbye and took Paul's Ford and left.
Three miles past town the car began to veer and she realized she had a flat. She pulled off the road and got out to check. It was the right rear. While she was waiting for someone to come by she could stop for help, the right front started going down also.
Paul Beauchamp sat at the kitchen table and drank a third cup of coffee while he watched his young son's girlfriend clean up the morning dishes. His son had done goddamn well for himself to the extent that beyond what he supposed was a father's natural pride, he was envious. And he knew that as long as Tom was with this girl he would never have to appreciate the hell of living with, and in spite of it loving, a woman who was as frigid as his mother.
But there was something vaguely disquieting about his feelings as he watched her stand at the sink, her back to him, and wash the dishes. The flimsy shirt distinctly out-lined the soft curves of her shoulders. Beneath her arms he could just glimpse the sides of her full breasts. Above the levis and beneath where the shirt was tied up there were eight or nine inches of bronzed, bare flesh, the curve of her back gently swayed, the fine line of her spine deeply indented. Just above the low-hanging pants he could see two deep dimples and in the tight levis the hems of her panties stretched tight and high on her smoothly rounded young buttocks. And hanging down from her head almost to where he knew the top of the tight little anal crevice should begin was her fleecy, golden hair.
All these years of living with Katherine, of finding only rarely the satisfying experience a man needed with some strange woman he managed to pick up, had done nothing to dull Paul Beauchamp's sexual appetite. Strangely, he did still love his wife. And he loved his son and was happy for him, happy he'd found such a good looking young woman and one who obviously would do whatever she had to to satisfy her man in bed. He was glad the thoughts now going through his own mind, the fantasies he was having about this golden-haired nymphet, were only dreams. He took security in the fact that though her almost every move, and every look she'd given him as they were talking earlier at the breakfast table, seemed to be a flagrant sexual invitation to him, it meant nothing. It was just her way. Just part of her young adolescent charm.
Lys finished drying the dishes and turned back to the table. She smiled down at him with a splendid combination of bashfulness and sexuality. After a moment's hesitation she sat down across from him. Paul's eyes dropped from her face to her breasts, then to the patch of exposed, sun-tanned skin at her belly. Then he looked up suddenly, embarrassed, and coughed nervously. The back of his neck was burning and he could feel the sweat beneath his arms.
But her smile hadn't changed and she hadn't taken her eyes from him. And she seemed unperturbed by the silence that for Paul had become extremely uncomfortable. It seemed strange now that only a short time ago, with the cushion of Katherine and Tom's presence, they'd been talking easily about topics that ranged from camping to the idiosyncrasies in the way Mexicans in New Mexico spoke the Spanish language.
"Have you known Tom long?" he managed to blurt finally, though that question under the circumstances seemed somehow as banal as two old maids discussing a celebrity at a bus stop.
And she seemed to wait, to let that banality sink in, before she answered still without changing the tone of her smile, with a slight, suggestive shrug: "I met him at an orgy party and we hit it off right away."
Paul coughed again. He could hardly believe he'd heard her right. Though he knew he had. And he didn't know how she expected him to respond to it or what from a more general viewpoint that response should be. Again he felt envy that his son should have been to an orgy; he'd never been to one himself of course, and it seemed quite feasible that he never would. And he felt like an old fogy, completely out of tune with the times. And still, with the envy, he felt a father's pride.
"Does that shock you?"
"NO!" he said almost too quickly. And he knew he was flushing.
"We've been together almost two months," she said, and added: "And I guess we'll stay together a long time. I think we fit."
Somehow that made him feel better, quelled to an extent the idea that had entered his mind. He downed the last sip of his coffee and lit a cigarette, avoiding her with his eyes.
"I think I'm going to take a shower," she said.
"Fine."
He looked back at her. The smile had gone and now she was watching him intently, almost seriously. Again, his remark sounded silly after he'd said it.
Gradually it became apparent she was waiting for something else before she did go to shower. She still sat, watching him in that same disquieting way. Perhaps though she'd already learned where the main bathroom was situated, she still expected to be shown there. Perhaps she wanted him to get her a towel.
Once this possibility had entered his mind, he moved almost too fast. Awkward and impulsive, he felt like a clumsy bear. He muttered something about how stupid he'd been, let him get her a towel, and got up and started out of the kitchen. He sensed her presence behind him and felt certain she was laughing at him inwardly.
The bath, like the rest of the Beauchamp's home, was done luxuriously with the Spanish influence that dominates the architecture in that part of New Mexico. It was spacious with a high ceiling and a small, high window. The tiles of the wall looked not like bath tiles but the tiles on the walls in old Mexican houses. The shower itself was situated over the bathtub, which would have been large enough for two people to lounge in easily.
Paul clicked on the light for Lys and got her a towel from the cupboard. When he turned back to her he was surprised to see she'd already started unbuttoning her shirt, and he couldn't help an instant's staring at the small luscious breasts, the inner halves of them exquisitely exposed. Then he looked quickly away and with a trembling hand gave her the towel. She took it, leaving the shirt to hang loose on her breasts, held only by the knot beneath them. She was still watching him in that same disquieting way. Stumbling, he turned and made an awkward exit. He still felt she must be laughing at him.
It must have been the absence of the sound of the door closing that caused him to stop halfway down the hall and look back. What he saw caused a shock, and a surge of lurching sexual excitement in his loins that almost drove him mad.
She'd left the door open. Whether or not that was intentional he couldn't know, but in any event it was wide open. She had her back to the door. The shirt lay on the floor at her feet. He didn't know whether she knew he was watching or not. Almost, he didn't care. The flesh of her nudely exposed back was the loveliest he thought he'd ever seen: evenly hued golden, unbroken beneath the shoulder blades where the white line of a bikini top would have been expected. Against the bare, deeply tanned flesh her almost three feet of golden hair looked even more fleecy, and the curves of her shoulders, the shadows beneath her arms where he glimpsed her breasts, the thin narrow waist and those dimples above her curvaceous little buttocks he'd seen earlier drove him to a frenzy of desire.
Then, as he stood watching her, with his breath coming in sudden harsh gusts, she undid the tight levis and wriggled out of them, slowly and sensuously peeling them off her flesh as if they were of an outer layer of skin, causing Paul's desire to spiral toward a pinnacle with each new inch of the golden flesh she exposed.
At last, her velvety, cleft buttocks bared, she dropped the levis and her panties with them to her ankles. Then just as slowly and sensuously as she peeled them from her hips, she bent down to work one pants leg off an ankle, thrusting her buttocks up in the air with the movement, causing them to spread slightly so he could see the small dark circle of her tiny puckered anus, then below it the thin curling strands of her sparse young pussy hair and the juicy pink slit of her naked cuntal lips. Her buttocks were the same even golden tanned color as the rest of her body.
Paul swallowed hard, afraid she would turn suddenly and see him lewdly staring at her, yet still unable to draw his eyes away. Then she stepped out of the other pants leg, straightened up and did turn, almost profiled to him; but giving no sign that she'd seen him she stepped out of his sight into the shower.
by the time he got back to the kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee from the pot, now lukewarm, on the stove, Paul's heart was pounding so fast he thought his chest would burst. He'd broken out in a feverish sweat and his breath was quick and hoarse. In his trousers he could feel his cock, swollen to its full size, straining uncomfortably against the material of his shorts. He reached down and arranged it so it pointed upward in a better, less tantalizing fit.
Paul could hardly believe what he'd just seen. It seemed incredulous that the girl could have just forgotten to close the bathroom door, that her exposure of her golden body had been accidental.
But he knew he couldn't surmise the obvious meaning. That was unthinkable. He concluded that the thing that had just happened must be another product of the changing times. Nudity probably meant little or nothing to her generation. Perhaps in itself it wasn't an offer of sex. Perhaps she had not even thought he would look at her, or had not presumed he would draw what for him were the only obvious conclusions if he did.
Again he remembered what she'd said, that she'd met Tom at an orgy. And she'd said that with the nonchalance she might have applied in saying she had met him at a cocktail party. And she said they'd hit it off. That could mean only one thing. He wondered how many other young girls his son had fucked that night before her turn with Tom. The thought of it, the images that flashed in his mind of a number of beautiful women, writhing in the throes of sexual frenzy, dancing nude, fucking madly on the floor beside other madly fucking couples or trios or quartets, and the vision of his son finding Lys in all this madness, getting acquainted by fucking perhaps before they'd even seen each other with their clothing on or knew each other's names, made the waves of longing that were driving him out of his mind even more acute and shattering.
And he could not help but compare that world to his own: the occasional lay with a strange woman, the dull parties with their family friends or his associates at the office, the dull sexual banter between the bored married couples, most of whom deep inside would probably love to tear their clothing off and lose themselves in a wild bacchanal orgy, yet would probably never quite be able to bring themselves to do it; and his occasional romp with his wife, who begrudged him the rare pleasures of a body that though beautiful and alluring as any he'd ever seen was dormant, sexually, still unawakened despite every thing he'd tried. It was a dismal vision, dark pale in comparison to the world he imagined his son must live in when he was away from home.
Paul took a last taste of the coffee and decided he didn't want it. He stood up restlessly, wondering what to do next. He couldn't sit still, and though he would have liked to leave the house for a while, to escape the unthinkable thoughts that had burrowed into his mind, he couldn't. For one thing, he couldn't quite bring himself to do it, to miss out on the possibility of another look at the young blonde's beguiling body. And anyway, he was her host until this afternoon when either Tom or Katherine returned. It would be impolite. And she would probably know he'd left because he was afraid of her.
He walked out of the kitchen and went down the hall, skirting the patio. He hadn't really thought of where he was going, but it was hardly a surprise to him when he found himself back at the entrance of the short corridor that lead to the bathroom door, where moments ago he'd watched Lys undress. What did surprise him was that though he could see her shirt and levis were still lying on the floor where she'd dropped them, the bath was now apparently unoccupied. He couldn't hear the shower running and the light was switched off.
But he was furtive as he crept down the hall. He paused at the door, waging a struggle with himself, frightened that suddenly she would pop from the shower into his view, presuming he'd come to peek on her, yet still unable to resist satisfying himself that in fact she was not in there. After a moment he rallied his courage and stuck his head in with all the caution of a burglar checking a layout. It was empty. Just a trace of steam still hung in the air, and though he thought it must be his imagination, a faint aroma of a woman's freshly washed and perfumed body.
"I'm here," she said behind him.
The voice startled him so much he almost jumped into the tub. Then, red-faced with embarrassment, he turned to see Lys standing at the entrance to the corridor, a damp white towel clutched loosely around her body which glistened with moisture, her breasts scarcely concealed at the top of it, her upper thighs and a few golden tufts of silky-moistened pubic hair revealed at the bottom between her legs.
"II thought you must have finished and ... " She laughed at him, causing her unencumbered breasts to jostle tantalizingly. Flustered, he tried to think of something to say. Unable, he felt a futile anger welling in him.
"Don't be so uptight," she said.
"Well, I just ... "
"I said don't be so uptight."
She smiled at him, warmly, a smile that seemed to say she understood that he was a man with all a man's natural instincts and what he'd just appeared to be doing was almost to be expected. But that only increased his embarrassment.
"I was in the patio. You get the sun out there and I thought I might lay down for a while." Then she lowered her head, almost closing her eyes, yet looking with them up at him from beneath the lashed lids. "You're looking a little pale yourself. Why don't you come with me?"
"I don't think ... "
"Come on. A little sun might help calm your nerves too."
Paul wrenched his eyes from her body he'd been staring again, too intently and shifted weight uncomfortably.
"Yes. I guess that ... wouldn't be a bad idea. Let me get my swim trunks."
She laughed again and turned and started toward the patio. Below the towel he could just see the rounded underhalves of her glistening, wet buttocks. After several steps she looked back over her shoulder. Are you kidding? This is the twentieth century. Just bring a quilt or something."
During the instant that followed that statement, as Lys rounded the corner and went out of his sight, Paul thought his whole life flashed before his eyes not a linear vision: circular, the present and the distant past interwoven, his life with Katherine, the first awful night they'd been to bed together and he'd lost the rubber in her, the miserable sheepish aftermath to that and then her learning she was pregnant and their hastily announced engagement and on their wedding night that second even more disastrous time in bed with her when he'd had to force himself on her and realized she was frigid; after that, the years stretched out, Tom being born and growing up, the other women he'd had, the other frustrating nights with Katherine. All now muddled together as if in a swirling dream. He went to the storage closet and got a quilt, a thick soft comforter that would be soft enough to lay on even on the hard tile floor of the patio. That was at least his unconscious admission that what would happen next would be as much his responsibility as hers. But he didn't consciously admit that. He told himself, even as he selected that thick quilt because he knew it would be soft enough to fuck on, that he had to keep his head and remember that this was his own eighteen year old son's girlfriend he was going to be lying naked beside.
She was standing in the center of the patio when he got there, the sun playing on her damp body that was still barely concealed by the wet towel that clung to her lush curves. She gazed into the light of the sun, taking a deep, sexy breath and squinting her eyes. Then she turned and looked at him, standing and waiting and holding the quilt. Her eyes dropped below his waist and he moved the quilt over to conceal the erection he knew she could see bulging in his trousers, and again she laughed.
"Aren't you going to spread it?" she said, mocking him with her voice.
Reluctantly almost he flapped the quilt out and bent to spread it on the tile floor. Again she looked openly at the tent of his throbbing erection. Then with a motion reminiscent of a ballet dancer beginning a pirouette she flung the towel suddenly off her to reveal her naked body beneath, the breasts shining with beads of water that looked like sweat, the nipples immediately swelling from contact with air. Her belly was thin and smooth, the faintest outline of muscle beneath the near transparent looking flesh, that flawlessness of structure only attained by women who practice yoga or some similar exercise. Below, between her slender, tanned thighs, the blond pubic hair was sparse, twisted in spirals of dampness that revealed her pink little clitoris and the beginning of her inviting vaginal slit.
Now she did pirouette very slowly, her arms stretched above her head to arch her flawless breasts as though in gesture of worship to the sun that beamed on her. The turn completed, she paused facing him.
Again her eyes dropped to his crotch. "Aren't you going to get naked like me?" Her tongue flicked out of her mouth to wet her lips in distinct suggestion.
"I ... I guess so."
Clumsily he started to unbutton his shirt. She dropped to her knees, smoothing the quilt, then stretched out languidly, her body in a pose of open surrender, her eyes focused on him as he removed the clothing from his still fit, athletic body.
At last he pulled off his trousers and shorts, causing his hard cock to bend downward and then spring tautly back upward, and dropped awkwardly to his knees and stretched out beside her. For a moment he lay in tense silence, listening to her soft breathing beside him. As a reflex, he stiffened his genital muscles and his cock bobbed. She giggled.
"It's beautiful," she purred, leaning toward him. "Why are you so embarrassed about it?"
"I'm not embarrassed."
She lay a hand on his belly and did a little tickling dance with her fingers.
"You look embarrassed. Your face is all red and you're afraid to look me in the eye. And except for the signals I'm getting from mat enormous pole of a thing, you hardly seem appreciative of my body."
"You're Tom's girlfriend. My own son's girl. We shouldn't even be lying here like this, talking like this. And you know it."
"Do you know it?"
The question took him back. He jerked his head toward her and the vision of her beautiful nakedness, the long hair draped over her shoulders and spread loosely like a long veil over her wide round breasts and silken belly almost to the exquisite blonde banner of her pubis, caused a renewal of his surging want.
"What ... ?"
"Do you know that? Do you really know that: that we shouldn't be here like this? Or is it just an attitude handed down from generations of darkness, that you've never questioned and that has no basis in the way things really are?"
"I don't know what you mean," he blurted, jerking his eyes defensively from her.
"Do you know that since we've been together, Tom has had even more strange girls than I have boys?"
"I wouldn't know."
"And I've had a lot of them, almost everyone I've seen that was special enough one way or another for me to want them. And once you open your eyes, you see there are a lot of special people in this world. And Tom understands me and I understand him."
He grunted. 'Well I don't think hell understand this."
"I didn't say we don't get jealous. If we quit being jealous, that would be the end of it. Tom can get into a rage you wouldn't believe from just a little thing like seeing me be fucked by a stranger and enjoying it. And the last time I caught him in bed, with two other girls, I got so jealous and at the same time so excited I almost wet my pants." She paused, laughing gaily, and added: "But that's what makes life fun for us, and what keeps us together and interested in each other: the competition. The fact that we both always know we always have to be in our top form and do our best for the other one to keep them around."
Once more she paused, as if to give the wisdom of this time to sink in. Then she said in a voice that was changed, gusty and wanton: "Do you want me to suck your cock?"
He felt it throb. A muffled meaningless sound popped from his throat. He swallowed hard and without looking at her nodded.
"Do you? Say it."
"Yes," he croaked.
"Say the words."
"Yes. I want you to suck my cock. God yes! How could I not want you to do it!"
"Then put it in my mouth. Or grab my hair or my head and push my mouth down on it. Show me you're a man and mean it!"
The rage streaked through him like fire. For an instant, as he watched her almost mocking young face, her narrowed eyes and her pursed, wet lips, it seemed he couldn't move. She licked her lips again and once more looked down at his hardened penis. Then suddenly he found control of his muscles and lunged upward, rolling on her and pushing her onto her back, his hands mauling her breasts and shoulders, then pinning her arms as he straddled her chest and dragged his hard pulsating maleness up her body, between the hard, vibrant breasts and thrust it without mercy as deep as it would go into her already willing open young mouth.
Beneath him on the quilt he felt her body recoil, her head retreating down into the softness of the comforter. He heard a deep gurgling sound issue from her throat and felt her lips oval themselves tightly about his hard maleness, her tongue flicking in a wet teasing circular motion about the heavily throbbing shaft. For what must have been a full minute he ground his cock down into her mouth ruthlessly, fucking between her lipstick rimmed young lips with no more tenderness than were it a cunt in which he was on the verge of climaxing. His ass cheeks smashed her voluptuous breasts hard into her chest and below, with his foot pressed between her thighs he could feel a brushing of the soft hair of her cunt between her legs as her body began to writhe excitedly beneath him.
Then gradually he slacked off with the vicious thrusting and began to snake his cock gently in and out of her mouth; then even that ceased as the delicate sucking and the caress of her lips and tongue on his maleness caused his anger to abate. At last he withdrew it and slid down her body, settling between her already widely parted, waiting thighs.
He kissed her on the lips that only moments ago he'd assaulted with his cock, and beneath him she twisted her velvety body, crushing it up against him. She put her arms around him and ran her hands eagerly over him. She squirmed as his cock brushed the most tender flesh of her inner thighs, tickled the softly curling pubic hairs and began to nudge at the slowly moistening little slit of her cunt. Then she arched her hips, lifting both of them off the quilt with a surprising strength for her supple build, and Paul rested his weight on one elbow and slid his other hand beneath their bodies, down the hot flesh of her belly and through the resilient soft pussy hair, onto the top of the thinly pulsating crevice of her cunt. She dropped her body back onto the quilt and nibbled tenderly at his neck with her teeth.
His cock still prodding at her thighs, he thrust his finger deeper into the slick wet walls of her surprisingly tight cunt. She whimpered, again squirming beneath him, as deeper and deeper the finger wiggled, and tightened her thighs about his waist.
She kissed him on the lips and began to claw at his back, her hips now twitching furiously against the probing of his finger. Then she jerked her body and sobbed wantonly: "Come on, Paul! Fuck me now! Don't wait any longer."
As she jerked about wildly he withdrew his finger and repositioned himself between her warm, desperately grasping thighs. For a moment his cock prodded off course, nudging her first above the wet and ready slit, then below on the tiny muscle between her cunt and her asshole. Then she reached down frantically with her own hand, between his buttocks and thighs, and seized his cock and guided it surely to her. A moan of ecstasy or pain issued from her just as the large, rubbery head spread wide the thin elastic lips of her naked young pussy and entered. Then, as it wormed deeper up inside her tiny, excitedly contracting belly, she screamed as though in exquisite torture, her body shuddering and writhing, her breath coming in tormented, strained gasps.
At last he felt the initial resistance of her cunt give way, felt her vaginal lubricants come rushing down around his shaft, slickening it and making it slide easily to her hot, grasping depths. Her scream died away to a soft purring sound. Her writhing faded to subtle twitching. Then for a moment they were both motionless except for the soft caress of her hands on his thighs moving slowly toward his buttocks. Then she began to squirm again, grinding her pelvis up against him so their loins were a tight fit, her hands beginning to forcefully knead the firm flesh of his powerfully driving asscheeks.
To his increasingly desperate downward thrusts she worked her body wildly, moaning and sobbing as if to punctuate her movements. He lifted his head so he could look down on her face, which was now contorted wildly with pleasure, the long hair spread out and tousled on the quilt, her mouth open and her eyes closed in tightly clenched slits. Gone was that mocking air that had challenged and so perturbed him before. She was caught up now in the wild sexually erotic pleasure he was evoking in her deeply impaled young body. She had totally surrendered to him. He was on topboth ways.
He slid his hand beneath her buttocks, pushing it into the softly dividing crevice between and flicking his finger across the bottom of her vagina where his enormous cock now rhythmically fucked in and out of her. He caught a few droplets of her excitedly flowing moisture with his finger and spread them backward over the tight, tiny asshole, poised the tip of his middle finger at its entrance, then wormed it up into the first knuckle into the vainly resisting tightness. She shuddered, the sound of her moaning changing to indicate pain. But she did not resist or protest as he inched it slowly, relentlessly inward, feeling the tiny puckered little hole seem to open or stretch reluctantly, the resistance giving way gradually. Then he thrust it in swiftly, the last inch up to his knuckle, and in retreat she ground her hips up violently against him, screaming in pain and pleading with him.
Then a deep sigh escaped her and she sank her buttocks back on the finger, her experienced young vaginal muscles tightening hungrily around the shaft of his cock and holding it for a moment deep within her, then beginning to wiggle up and down crazily as he withdrew and thrust it violently. He began a long series of lunges, racking her small body with buttock shattering strokes, timing the rapid in and out movement of his finger in her asshole with the heavily driving rhythm of his cock in her cunt. Her moaning became a scream; her movements suddenly like a wave of fluttering under him. She clawed at his buttocks with her hands, a frantic response to the waves of orgasm that surged through her nakedly jerking young body beneath him.
He let her orgasm pass until she was just twitching, pleading flesh beneath him, and continued, concentrating on his own build up even as she sobbed for rest. Then his movements prompted her to new desire and she began to respond again, even more fervently and deliciously than before, as though maddened by her ecstasy and driven to a delirium that gave her greater and greater strength. Her cunt spasmed; it was as though its lips were like the lips of a small bearded mouth, alternately nibbling and biting. Deep inside he felt the caress of her inner pussy muscles like the dexterous licking of a tongue. He'd never in his life fucked anybody like this, and again he felt he should offer his congratulations to his son. But if he'd felt guilty before, that was now gone. Nobody, should have the right to exclude the rest of the world from a wild little piece of tail like this.
"Yes! Oh God, fuck me!" she screamed suddenly. "Fuck me harder. Fuck me harder."
Thoughts left his mind, he drifted in his own world of bliss and delirium, feeling his cock grow even larger, driving up to the inner reaches of her pelvis now, feeling the first waves of what would be momentarily his own extended rush toward climax. Beneath him Lys continued to moan and scream, unintelligible sounds and obscenities and words of pleading for him to reach an even greater pinnacle of thrusting passion.
She rolled backward on her shoulders, kicking her legs up in the air and thrusting her loins openly up at his driving pelvis, making a slick straight sheet of her cunt that he could fuck into more smoothly. He further increased the ferocity of his strokes, his loins making a flat fleshy slapping sound on her buttocks as if he were spanking her.
Then suddenly a shudder coursed through her body.
"Ooooh God, Paul! I'm going to cum again!" she wailed, her nails tearing at his back.
A low cry formed in her throat and spiralled upward, a piercing scream, out of her mouth. Her thighs clamped tight about his back and her ankles drummed frantically on his hips. He worked his finger forcibly; through the thin fleshy membrane that separated anus from vagina and was able to tighten the caresses of her cunt walls on his cock. He lowered his head and kissed the nipple of one of her breasts, then bit down so hard on it to cause a break in her cry as she moaned aloud and sucked in her breath.
Then he ceased his own control, letting his strokes become swift and wild, without coordination, sheer fury as he felt the cum well up in him, spiral upward and go spewing hotly into her greedily welcoming young vagina.
Gradually his movements slackened, and at last he was lying motionless upon her. He kissed her gently on the lips as he slipped his finger softly out of her still tightly clenched rectum and caressed her buttocks, slick and wet with the warm white liquid of both their orgasms. He grinned triumphantly above her and flexed his penis deep up inside, causing her body to writhe gently beneath him.
A moment later he withdrew his rapidly deflating cock from her sperm flooded young vagina and rolled over onto his back. He lay panting beside her. Though his own eyes were closed, he could feel hers were on him. And he knew they now lacked that challenging smile they had had before he fucked her. She was grateful, as women invariably are after several orgasms.
He felt her hand touch his belly, move down to caress his flaccid cock. It tingled, at first almost unpleasantly, too sensitive on the still pulsating tip. Then he felt it respond and begin to harden again. Lys kissed him on the chest and slid atop him, straddling his loins and positioning his penis upright, lowering her desire slickened young pussy easily down onto it.
CHAPTER FOUR
Katherine had decided there was no use in waiting while two flats were repaired and then either driving with breakneck speed or arriving late for her meeting in Albuquerque. She caught a ride with a brash looking truck driver back to the service station in town, gave the attendant instructions about the car and made a long distance call to cancel the engagement. Then she walked the half mile back to the house.
Even before she entered the front door, she thought she felt a strange apprehension. Perhaps it was the silence, perhaps intuition. Or maybe just lingering suspicion about the way Lys had seemed to be flirting with her husband, Paul at breakfast. But as she went through the door she was almost on tip-toes, and she was listening intently for some sound that would let her know everything was in order.
That sound was not forthcoming.
She walked through the den and into the kitchen, noting with some surprise that the dishes had been washed. She stood still for a moment, wavering on her feet, and called Paul's name out, but so softly he could not have heard had he been anywhere but one of the immediately adjoining rooms. Then she started out, intending to take the short cut across the patio to see if they were in the den. But at the doorway she stopped, her mouth gaping.
The old comforter they used only for the coldest months of winter was spread on the tile in the sun in the middle of the patio. Stretched our there on his back, naked, was her husband. Straddling him was their son's girlfriend Lys, also naked. Katherine watched dazed as the blonde took his hardened penis in her hand, directed it up between her widespread thighs, then lowered her body. Her face contorted at the contact. Katherine heard a low soft sigh and saw her squirm her widely stretched young vagina slowly down on the hard, long shaft until she was impaled completely, sitting, on him, her body still upright and her firmly upstanding breasts catching the bright sun, her buttocks pressed tight down against the hard cushion of his thighs and testicles. For a moment she waited motionless there; then she began to sway and writhe her torso, squirming her hips hungrily down on the rod that skewered pole-like up into her small body.
"Oh God," Katherine watched wide-eyed. It looked large enough to reach all the way up into her stomach in this position.
Katherine watched Paul's hands move up to caress her pelvis, to guide the rhythmic up and down bouncing of her body. The girl threw her head back, looking up at the sun as though she were a pagan worshipping it, closing her eyes as though unable to look upon the face of her god. Her hair dangled to sweep in a brushing motion over Paul's knees as she turned her head slowly from side to side. With her own hands she reached up to squeeze her breasts, fondling her nipples and pushing them together and upward like a girl in a lewd pin-up display. As Paul's upward lunging increased, her own writhing became more pagan, snake-like.
My god, she is beautiful!
Katherine thought. Never had she seen such perfect skin, such flawlessly contoured breasts, such long and beautiful hair, and such an ass. Enraptured, she watched them, swaying on her own feet almost in time with their movements. She could hardly believe the obscene splendor of the act, not done sneakily in the darkness but with wanton abandon in the open in the brilliant sunlight. And the look on Paul's face was like nothing she had ever seen, a look of power and triumph and ecstasy.
She felt the strangest impulse. She wanted to go to them. There was a feeling inside her she'd never experienced before. It was as if she were enchanted, as if she had no control over herself, as if an unknown outer force were determined to make her a part of the blissful, lust-inciting scene unfolding before her. She thought she may have even took a step or two toward them, before she remembered her own lewd fingering of herself last night and suddenly with an equal lack of control over her actions turned and fled silently from the house.
Katherine didn't even know how long she'd been sitting in the little side street bar, a place frequented by truckers and hicks, where she and Paul or any of their circle of acquaintances would never be seen. A twangy hillbilly tune was playing on a scratchy record on the jukebox and sitting down from her was an old drunken woman and a young cowboy with pimples. The bartender was snoozing on his stool and the clock told her it was after dinner. She hardly even remembered coming here just vague glimpses of herself running from the house and down the road until she was too exhausted to run, then walking without even thinking of her direction. She had always abhorred this place and the several other honky tonks of similar decor on this street and the next one over.
Gradually, the scene in the patio of her husband and their son's girlfriend locked in a lewd, nakedly writhing embrace flooded her mind. Now removed from it, she could hardly believe the lust and passion that had gripped her, as if invisible currents had been running from their bodies to hers, pulling her out of herself and into an exotic world beyond anything that had ever been a part of her reality. Then she'd remembered what she'd seen the night before and went running away, scarcely conscious of what she had done. Now she couldn't understand the forces that had gripped her, had made her do that horrible thing to herself with her fingers while standing in the hallway and watching her own son make love to a young teenage girl.
Katherine drank the last of her gin and tonic, made a hissing sound to wake the bartender, and ordered another one. The little bitch! she thought. The shameless, vicious little bitch! Though it wasn't so much that she cared about Paul. Perhaps he deserved a little fun after the way Katherine had treated him all these years. But corrupting her son and taking him from her, teaching him to do the lewd and disgusting thing Katherine had seen him doing the night before, that was something else. And after all, Lys was a guest, however unwelcome, in her house. And Paul was her husband.
A sudden thought shot through her alcohol fogging mind: If she's had my man, why shouldn't I have hers?
She giggled, which startled the bartender again. Sheepishly she looked down at the bar and sipped her drink while he drifted back into his half slumber. That wasn't what she'd really meant to think, she decided. That was the most ludicrous of fantasies, but a fantasy that after what she'd been through the last two days she was certainly entitled to. But she would have been genuinely happy to see another woman, almost any woman, get Tom now. She'd like to see that little bitch of a blonde put in her place.
She finished her drink and ordered another, and after that a third. A third since she'd started counting, that was. She wasn't sure how many she'd had before she started the conscious tally, but she didn't think it was too many. She felt far from drunk and she didn't imbibe alcohol that regularly.
She was on her fourth, since the count, when the vaguely familiar looking man came in and sat down two stools away from her. He nodded at her and though she couldn't place him, she smiled back pleasantly. She didn't want to talk to him, or anybody else for that matter, but she thought being unpleasant in this sort of place could probably be even more trouble in the long run than being amiable. And she certainly didn't want to leave now. She had nowhere else to go.
"Can I buy you a drink?" the man asked after a moment.
Katherine smiled and shook her head and gestured toward her glass. Then she saw it was empty.
"Give the lady another one," the man told the bartender.
She didn't feel she could refuse, so she offered him a muffled thanks and turned her attention to her new drink. The man got up and put a half a dollar in the jukebox and played the same song that seemed to have been playing most of the time since she'd got there. When he came back he sat a stool closer to her and moved his drink over. He had a faint odor about him, not dirty, just the sweat of hard work, and breathed hoarsely as a chain smoker.
"You don't act like you remember me, baby?" he said.
"Should I?" She didn't look at him as she said that.
"You had a flat tire, couple of 'em, this afternoon."
Embarrassed, she turned suddenly toward him. She wondered how she'd managed not to associate him to that. Though when he'd stopped and given her the lift she'd already been in such a state she was scarcely noticing the world around her.
"I'm sorry. I really am extremely sorry. And it was so nice of you. I just had something on my mind and I wasn't paying attention."
He shrugged. "It's all right. Happens all the time with beautiful women."
She pondered the implication of this and decided she didn't want to think about it. But she did look at him now, perhaps for the first time really closely. He seemed rather dull as far as hismental or spiritual aspects were concerned. Other than that he just looked big and drunk and very hairy. Certainly not handsome, but if homely in a crude sort of way that wasn't completely displeasing. He reminded her of the stereotype of so many of the people in that small Arizona town where she'd grown up, the lungers and gropers and pawer-uppers she'd gone out with before she'd gotten involved with Paul. And she had no doubt from the way he was looking back at her that his approach would be about as uncouth as theirs.
Katherine turned back to the bar and finished her drink.
"My name's Bill," the man said in her ear, then shouted to the bartender: "Give her another one."
"No," said Katherine. "I think I really must be going."
"Don't be silly."
He slapped the bar and before she could get herself up off the stool, or think about getting her money out to pay for the drinks she'd had before Bill came, there was another before her.
"Thanks," she said reluctantly and took a healthy gulp of the gin that now, because she had had so many, had become almost tasteless. She could feel Bill's eyes on her, hungrily devouring her slender body, stripping off her skirt and sweater in his dreams. She knew what he had on his mind. There wasn't the slightest doubt about that. He thought she was just another barroom pick-up and he probably took for granted that he'd have her in the sack before the afternoon waned. It disgusted her.
But it seemed now that the whole world was disgusting. All around her lascivity seemed to have become the way of life.
"How 'bout a dance?"
"No thanks."
"Aw, come on," he said. "It won't hurt."
He put his hand on her shoulder and she stiffened and tried to shy away. But his fingers dug into her flesh and held her, not brutally or painfully, just tightly enough to make it difficult for her to refuse. Reluctantly she took a last bracing sip of her drink and rose and let him lead her to the center of the small dance floor. He gave a slight, absurd bow and took her in his arms and began to guide her about the floor to the shuffling rhythm of the song. He pulled her close to him. At first she tried to hold her body back but resistance seemed more trouble than yielding, and after all it was innocent enough, just dancing, even if the contact of their bodies was somewhat suggestive of something not so innocent. After a moment she completely surrendered, letting him squeeze her light body tightly to his barrel-shaped belly and muscular chest, mashing her tender breasts, his thighs brushing forcefully against hers. Through his trousers she sensed the stirring of his maleness; like a snake uncoiling to rigidity it inched its way upward along her stomach, swelling until it was an enormous hard force. She made but the faintest effort to draw away, but he still held her firmly to him.
"I'm what you might call a long distance man," Bill said into her ear. "Like working for the telephone company. Last week it was New Orleans. Next week Seattle. After that who knows?"
They danced for a moment longer in silence. She thought he must epitomize everything she hated in men. His brash, overbearing manner. The fact that he was talking to her and dancing with her for only one, obvious reason: because he wanted to get between her legs, he wanted to take and violate her body and beyond that cared nothing for her at all. But it didn't seem to matter now. Nothing mattered. She didn't even object as she felt his hand inch down her back, brushing first lightly over the swell of her soft, inviting buttock, then more firmly, kneading both of them almost greedily with a total disregard for what the other people in the bar might think of her.
"I've got a little room up the street," he whispered in her ear, patting her on the buttock with his hand, then again letting it come to rest, even lower where the cleft began down into her thighs. "Nothing special. But it's cozy and I can get a bottle of gin."
"No."
"You need a little break," he continued. "I could see that even this afternoon."
The song stopped, but he still held her to him and waited for the next, then they began again. He brought his hand up from her hips, running it lightly along her spine, causing funny little chills to flow through her body. Then he dragged it beneath her arm and mashed the side of her breast. Again she remembered the lewd but exciting sexual things she'd seen last night, then this morning. The alcohol had dulled her anger somewhat; or perhaps Her mind had just been forced to cope with it and disperse it, dilute the disgusting images to enable her to face them. And now she was able to wonder pragmatically what she was going to do. She could hardly go home, not after what she'd seen there and what she'd done too. She hardly deluded herself about her own innocence. Perhaps standing in the darkness eavesdropping and fingering herself was even worse than what Tom and Paul and Lys had done. But she certainly couldn't go on drinking here.
Without warning Bill suddenly kissed her on the lips. She let him do it; her lips met his without resistance even as his tongue snaked sloppily into her mouth. And as he moved his hand between their bodies, pressing his palm hard on her breasts, she felt a lewd stirring sensation as her nipple swelled. Then that song ended and he led her back to the bar. She felt suddenly just very tired, worn out both physically and spiritually. Bill ordered them two more drinks and again she didn't refuse merely because it seemed easier to accept.
"I'll tell you what." Bill said. "You look like you're pretty well done in anyway. Why don't you let me take you back to the room, and well have just a couple of belts. Then you can take a nap."
Katherine cast him a sardonic glance. He crossed himself, staring at her with his watery, red eyes, his face hidden behind an attempted mask of sincerity. His eyes dropped momentarily to her breasts. Then he looked up again at her face.
"You must really think I'm stupid if you think I believe that for a minute!"
The sharpness of her voice caused him to draw back. Then she laughed softly. What difference did it make now? she wondered. All she wanted to do was lie down for a while. Get out of this horrible bar. Avoid having to go back to her horrible home. And after what she and the rest of her family had done, what difference did one truck driver make?
"All right," she said softly. "If you promise you won't molest me."
"Cross my heart!"
He crossed himself again.
It was a shabby motel with dingy, smelly rooms. Often as she'd passed in the car Katherine had wondered who would stay in it. Now she knew. The truck driver had got a half pint of gin before they left the bar and paid for not only the drinks he'd invited her but the ones she'd ordered before he'd come, which she'd let him do with certain misgivings. Now she knew why. The cramped and dingy look of the room with its rickety bed and stained sink and off colored curtains only served to impress on her the sordidness of her own presence here. She'd been picked up in a dive and brought to a cheap motel by a man who's last name she didn't even know. Even as it repulsed her, the realization of those facts gave her a lewd excitement. It seemed the most degrading, disgusting thing she could ever do, even more so than her frenzied finger fucking of herself last night in the foyer that lead to Tom's room, or her delirious, almost spiritual anticipation those few moments she watched the same woman being fucked by her own husband this afternoon. It seemed somehow a deserving climax to those other two events.
But even so she knew she couldn't go through with it even if she had wanted to.
Bill poured her a drink in the glass on the sink and took a shot from the bottle for himself. "Like I said, it's not much." He gestured around the room. "Just one of many homes a traveling guy like me has to have." He shrugged. "What I'm trying to say is this: you don't have to worry with a guy like me about none of the things that might be worrying you, like gossip and all."
Katherine looked him over more carefully even than she had in the bar. He looked like a genuine stupid brute. Her husband and son should see this, she thought. Then she shuddered and turned abruptly away. She took a long sip of the drink and stared through a tear in the curtain at the dirty stucco wall on the opposite side of the narrow street. It was -lined up with old bent up beer cans and a piece of yellow newspaper, caught on a rock, flapped in the light breeze. What a different world this was from her own home, what it had been until yesterday. And it was less than two miles away.
She started suddenly as she felt the man step up behind her, resting his hand on her shoulder, his barrel belly pushing at her spine. She took a step forward, as far as she could go without jumping through the window, but he followed. His hand moved down her shoulder onto the unprotected upper portion of her breast above the bra cup. She felt his warm breath on her neck, which caused her to shiver, and the hard obscene prodding of his penis in the crevice of her soft buttocks.
"No, Bill," she pleaded softly. "I can't. I just can't."
He ignored her, putting both his arms around her and cupping her breasts strongly, massaging them brutally through the bra, causing her to recoil backward and drive her buttocks onto the giant protrusion in his trousers until she could feel it touch up against the very hole of her anus. It was a strange, not unpleasant tickle that caused her whole body to stiffen. At the same time she felt his tongue flick over her ear, causing a pleasing chill to shoot down her spine. She only faintly resisted the hand that moved down her belly along the outside of her skirt, making it scratch at the soft down of her pubis. Then as his finger touched her clitoris on the outside of her clothes and panties a shudder of delight caused her to press her buttocks backward even harder against the large organ that through her skirt and panties prodded threateningly against her anus.
A soft moan escaped her and she began to grind her hips back sensuously as his hand, still on the outside of her skirt, teased her swelling clitoris. His other hand tugged at her sweater, at last managed to get it out of her skirt, then moved up beneath it and pushed at her bra cups until they popped off her breasts, still tight on her and cutting painfully into the soft, luxurious upper curves of them so that she cried out. Then the touch of his fingers on her nipples compensated for that, and her cry was transformed to a whimper ofjoy.
She hung her head back, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at the soiled ceiling with its great cloud-like stains that looked like stains of semen and vaginal fluids on an old mattress. She forgot herself for a moment, who she was and what it was that she was doing. She let herself bask in the real joy of the perfect stranger's hand mauling her fabulous breasts and the hard knob of his cock pressing hotly at her anus, the warm and vivid friction of his finger teasing at the excitedly jumping little bud of her clitoris through her skirt.
She felt as she were about to jump out of her lifelong innocence and purity into a new and unexplored realm. She was about to escape from a tightly walled place, or burst through a membrane it was something she'd never conceived before, neither the invisible, indefinable prison that held her, or this still unknown world of hedonistic freedom she felt lay just beyond. And she was almost there, she thought, squirming even more wildly as he shoved his hand down inside her skirt and beneath the elastic waistband of her panties, through the softness of her pubic hair to touch the pleading little tip of her clitoris nakedly without the interference of her skirt, sending waves of even more maddening and demanding pleasure soaring hotly through her body.
She was almost there. Then something snapped. Her whole body went stiff. A wave of nausea shattered the twinges of joy that had held her enraptured.
In a swift, determined movement she slithered out of his grasp and before he could seize her again she was halfway across the room from him, turned to face him, her eyes wild and wide and filled with tears, her usually neat hair asunder and standing out savagely, her sweater untucked from her skirt and pulled up from her waist, on one side caught on her gorgeous, exposed breast and only half concealing the other. She looked down at herself with disbelief, then up at the sweating, hairy brute of a truck driver, staring at her with a look of total amazement and stupidity. She could hear her own hoarse, hastened breathing, and inside her panties where just an instant ago his calloused working man's hand had tortured her swollen clitoris to pleading ecstasy she felt the tell-tale moisture of her cuntal excitement.
"What in the hell's wrong with you babe?"
"Stay away from me," she screeched like a tigress.
She tried to pull her sweater down over her nudely exposed breast but it was caught beneath the cup of the bra, which still tore mercilessly into the tender, pliable flesh.
"Christ, you were just about to cum from my finger," he said, still sounding half dazed.
"And shut your filthy mouth!"
He responded to that with an initial incredulous silence, then burst suddenly into an uproarious laughter.
"But you didn't know, did you? You didn't know because you don't know what that is?"
Still gaping-mouthed with amazement the lewdly grinning truck driver came lunging toward her.
"Stay away, you brute!" she hissed, retreating in the corner.
"You didn't even know you was going to pop your nuts," he said again just as he reached her.
She whimpered softly as he came bearing down upon her, breathing hard, moving it seemed with the irrefutable motion of a train, a giant unleashed storm that would devour or rend asunder all that stood in its path. She threw her hands up feebly in defense, but she didn't resist as he pushed them out of the way. Then as that horrible vision of her son and his young girlfriend, Lys, flashed again in her mind, she felt her legs go weak. She collapsed sobbing on his chest.
He half-led, half-dragged her to the bed, but she didn't try to hold back. She didn't care any more. It didn't matter that she didn't know him, or that she didn't even like him. Nothing mattered nothing but the gnawing desire up in her moistly flowing vagina, the need that was like nothing she'd ever experienced before, that engulfed and overwhelmed and made her helpless before its relentless command.
She had to have a penis, any man's penis, even this man's. She had to have it inside her, to stretch her cunt wide, fill it until she felt it would burst it, tear it through into the depths of her being. Even if it repulsed her or hurt her physically, she had to have it. It seemed it would be a cleansing, not only of her maddening physical desire, but of the deeply tormenting guilt that possessed her. It was her only possible atonement for the things she had seen last night and this morning.
"I don't know who the hell's been seeing to your love life," Bill grunted, tearing the blouse and brassiere off her head to expose and free her large firm breasts. "But I'm going to give you a fucking like you never dreamed of."
"Yes," she gasped. "Yes do it!" She couldn't believe the words were hers. "Fuck me like that! Do it to me real dirty!"
Anticipating him she unsnapped her skirt and wriggled out of it, then pushed the flimsy nylon panties off her voluptuously curved hips, revealing completely her lithe, well-tanned body. He watched with appreciation that was madly lascivious as he pulled off his own shirt, to expose that enormous chest as hairy as an ape's, and then began to get out of his trousers.
Her eyes half closed, drifting a dream of unfulfilled ecstasy, Katherine watched his giant, throbbing cock approach her. It looked frighteningly large, as if it would tear her apart, as if she could never bear to have it thrust into the tightness of her tender, sensitive cunt. But that was what she wanted. She wanted to be hurt by it, torn and tortured until this maddening longing was expiated and somehow she could become herself again and escape the grips of this obscene delirium.
"Yes, fuck me!" she said again, a throaty whisper that she could hardly imagine was coming from her. "Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." She'd never said that word before; now, as she lay down on her back and watched him crowd on top of her, the giant cock lowered toward her crazed and pleading body, it was like a chant swirling up in her throat.
She felt his hands press her legs wide apart, his fingers moving down the tender flesh of her inner thighs, the weight of him lowering hard upon her body. She heard the bed springs creak and felt it sag beneath her hips. Then his hands touched the lips of her excitedly throbbing vagina, pulling them open wide and stretching them, his thumbs prodding her clitoris, his last fingers sliding between and spreading her buttocks.
Then a shudder went through her body as she felt the first sharp stab of the truck driver's cock, thrusting against the tightness of her nakedly trembling cunt, until just the head of it nestled between the burning lips.
"Oh god!" she screamed, feeling the incredible pain, yet even as it hurt her wanting it more.
He shoved forward, dropping his belly so it was a great weight on her frail body. She extended her arms above her head, arching her surrendered breasts. Her fingers did a mad little ballet as she felt the heavy burning hardness inch slowly inward. Her body twitched and writhed, beyond her control as her last resistance gave way and the giant rubbery head of it and the long following shaft came plunging on, upward to the deepest depths of her painfully absorbing belly. Her face contorted with passion and a crazed cry of ecstasy burst from her lips.
The truck driver made a low, animal-like grunting sound, as if he were greatly satisfied with his accomplishment. Then he began to fuck her, drawing the thick shaft out and plunging it down, gently at first, then harder until his body jolted hers and caused her to punctuate her cries with eerie grunts of pain.
She lifted her legs outward into the air and then back in again, clasping them about his broad hips, the velvet folds of her vagina grasping him and squeezing tightly around the rigid pole until she could feel every inch of its punishing length, until in spite of the moisture that flooded and lubricated her cunt she was aware of the vivid sensation of friction with his every move. Her head flayed from side to side, her body white hot with the passion he'd unleashed. She locked her ankles high above his back, spiraling her ravenously hungry vagina up the full length of the heavily plunging shaft of his cock.
She forgot everything but the brutal assault on her pleading body. She no longer cared that what she was doing was wrong, that the fact that her husband, Paul, had had an affair gave her no right to act like a common whore. She forgot the respectable upbringing that had made her what she was, or what she had been until today, and screamed and pleaded for more, for him to fuck her harder, for him to break down those ill-defined walls that had prisoned, to take her into the light she'd glimpsed just beyond them.
"Oh god, fuck me like a whore!" She screamed. "Don't stop. Fuck me and make me cum!"
He clamped his lips down on one of her voluptuous breasts, his tongue flicking like a tiny whip over her yearning nipple. He hastened the rhythm of his movements, made his strokes harder until his body was a heavy lunging weight that crushed her. His hands tore madly at her flesh, clawing her so that she cried out. She felt his saliva dripping from his mouth where he kissed her breast, trickling slowly down to the ticklish flesh of her armpit. She thought she was almost there now, that she could have almost reached and touched that unknown bliss that awaited her. It was like a great surging wave bubbling up in a part of her body she was cut off from. She just had to break into it. Break into it. And she was so close.
Suddenly she heard a sharp angry curse. She felt Bill's movement stop. He tried to lay motionless on her, but she thrashed about madly beneath him. Then he started to withdraw, pulling his burgeoning cock up and out until it almost left her completely. She clawed at his buttocks, trying to pull him back down into her. The frustration was more than she could bear.
Then, before she knew what was happening, he rammed it back in viciously into her now openly welcoming pussy and began a staccato series of strokes, groaning, the groan swelling to an animal roar as he spewed his burning sperm deep into her slick, wet passage.
"Nooo!" she screamed, pounding his back viciously with his hands as she felt his movements begin to slacken, felt her own passion dropping from the peak it had almost reached. "No, oh god. Don't stop now!"
She still screamed and fought him even after he lay still and panting on her, a great dead weight. And even after his cock had gone flaccid and her belly felt as though it would burst from the volume of his cum, tried to continue her frenzied, frustrated hunching back, still cursed him with words she hadn't even realized she'd known.
Then he caught his breath and put his hand over her mouth to calm her, caught the wrist of the hand that flayed at him and pinned it above her head.
"Calm down, baby. It's not over yet."
"It's not?" she whimpered, seizing a desperate hope as she felt the cruel pain of unfulfillment surge through her.
"You can get it back up again it you want to," he said, looking at her slyly.
Then he turned loose of her wrist and in a sudden gesture withdrew his limp cock from her vagina, causing her body to contort in terrible agony. He rolled on his back, grinning lewdly as he watched the tears fill her eyes and spill down her face, the sobs make her slender shoulders shake.
"How?" she wailed.
He nodded down at his waist, where his cock lay limber and glistening with his cum and with lubricant of her cunt, which coated the awesome matted black hair around it.
"Suck it back up."
She caught her breath, shaking her head wildly from side to side. He put his hand on her neck and urged her to a sitting position, which she assumed reluctantly, staring with awe and terror at the cock which now looked like a pink, slippery worm.
"If you want it to fuck you some more?" he urged. "That's what you'd better do."
She couldn't. It was too much to ask. Anything, but she would never do that, never take a man's cock into her mouth. Especially if it had just been in her own pussy, fucking her to a state of delirium and then shooting its filthy cum in to mingle with her own juices. She thought of Lys sucking Tom, of the revulsion that had filled her when she'd seen that. And then she felt the stabbing frustration again, the longing in her own vagina for the fulfillment she'd been so close to. She couldn't stand it. If she didn't have that cock big and hard in her again, if she didn't find a release from the terrible agony of her longing, she thought she'd go out of her mind. Then she felt the pressure of Bill's hand on her back, shoving her face downward firmly. At first she resisted, then that gave way and she plunged down eagerly, her lips rounding instinctively and her tongue flicking out of her mouth for a furtive taste before she made a hungry little gurgling sound and drew it up between her lips and teeth, her nose snuggling tightly down into the stiff hair on his large balls.
Almost magically it began to twitch back to life, elongated, crawling tediously up her tongue toward the back of her throat. Shame filled tears spilled from her eyes and dripped off her cheeks into his pubis hair as she felt him arch his hips upward, thrusting his ever growing penis deeper into her widely ovaled mouth so that her cheeks were puffed out. She could taste the pungent sweetness of her own juices, coppery like a penny, and the distinct maleness of his cum. She could smell the vivid male odor of his sex. She thought this was the ultimate degradation. She felt lower than any whore, more immoral than any of the women whose names down through the ages had graced the pages of infamy. She was worse, even than Lys. Because Katherine knew what she was doing was wrong, was repulsed by it even as she did so. But she couldn't help herself. She had to have the truck driver's cock fucking up into her again at all cost.
The man moaned beneath her as her breasts dangled and pressed on his hairy belly. He moved his hands down her back and urged her to a kneeling position up beside him so that as she sucked his cock she presented him with a clear view of her nakedly up thrust asscheeks and the thinly spread lips of her vagina that seemed to spasm with desire in time with the fervent manipulations of her tongue and lips. Her love juices flowed out freely to trickle down and soak the softly curling pubic hairs that -lined the lips of the gently pulsating slit, cascading down the satin flesh of her smooth inner thighs.
He pushed his finger between her ripe, openly spread buttocks, flicking it over the moist hole of her anus, then down into the thin, bearded little mouth of her pussy. At the same time he worked his thumb mercilessly into the tiny puckered circle of her rectum, stretching wide the tight little elastic ring, causing her to jerk forward, taking even more of his cock in her mouth. He timed the upward thrusts of his hips with the dual probings of his thumb and finger into her cunt and asshole, and she sputtered and gagged as the now monstrous shaft brushed all the way to the hilt up between her lips and drove relentlessly back to her tonsils.
And then suddenly, Katherine felt the rising tide of building orgasm begin anew deep in her hotly quivering belly. The very obscenity of the act she was doing, the debasement and degradation which she'd accepted from this perfect stranger almost with gratitude, combined with the eerie pain of his thumb sunk deep up in her rectum and the pleasant teasing of his finger in her vagina to make strange ripples of fire dance wildly through her shattered nerves. She licked and sucked madly at the fleshy rod that was imbedded so deep in her mouth, her own saliva flowing as freely as her vaginal lubricants, mingling with the lingering love juices and semen his heavily fucking cock had placed in her mouth. She sucked at it frantically, as if she wanted more of it, as if she wanted her mouth violated by the spurting semen as she'd seen her own son's semen violate his teenage girlfriend's, Lys. And, in spite of her horror and revulsion at the lewd, obscene act she was committing, her own insides suddenly erupted in great white flashes of fire, trembling and tunneling through her veins in an endless stream of building pleasure. And then it burst deep up inside her. The invisible wall collapsed and she groaned around the thrusting cock in her mouth as the orgasm flooded in great sensual waves around the finger that now jerked rapidly in and out of her hotly clasping pussy from behind. It was like something she'd never dreamed of, indescribable, great waves of ecstasy and release that rushed through her body and made her scream with a muffled joy even as she held the giant truck driver's cock locked hungrily and tightly between her desperately working lips.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I'D probably be back at that same beer joint tomorrow afternoon," Bill said, lying on the bed with a sheet covering the bottom half of his huge hairy body.
Katherine hardly even looked at him. Tears of shame streamed from her eyes as she pulled her clothing over her beautiful, violated body.
It had betrayed her, somehow. That body she'd always kept so carefully under her control. In a blinding flash it had made a slave of her spirit, humbled her spirit with its hot grasping need and made her spirit yield to its unspeakable demands. The fact that she'd come here with this strange, uncouth man to this terrible place, the fact that she'd let his coarse hands use her luscious body, her most private and sacred parts, as playthings; the fact that she had committed adultery that should have been enough, terrible enough in itself. But she had liked it. She had screamed and begged for more, crazed out of her mind by the wanton sexual delirium. And when his body had demanded, hers had given. As the final proof of her degradation she'd yielded, fervently submitted even, to being fucked in the mouth by him after his penis was coated with the moist remains of their adulterous intercourse. She yielded to that revolting act just as Lys had, which only a day ago had so repulsed her, made her feel so pure and haughty. She'd given this stranger the same triumph over herself that she'd so perversely reveled in when watching her son use the young teenage girl's mouth as a receptacle for his cum. And in that act, the vision of Lys and Tom vivid in her mind as she so eagerly performed it, in the degradation and debasement, the relegation of every precept of decency to which she'd ever pretended, she achieved sexual climax.
And only then, after the madness had passed, had she come back to herself, seen the sickness and vileness of what she'd done.
"Hey, baby!" Bill said.
Bitterly she turned toward him, looked with deadened eyes at his brawny physique and stupid, grotesque face.
"That's no way to act. Didn't you enjoy it?
"Yes," she said without emotion. "I enjoyed it."
There was no reason to deny that. Even in all her guilt and self-repugnance she had to admit she'd enjoyed it. She'd enjoyed the obscenity of it, the degradation, the surrender of her morals. And even now, as she remembered that maddening wave of ecstasy, something in her body cried out for more. But she would never stoop to this again. She wouldn't yield to the flesh as she had today no matter how desperately it cried out to her.
"Well, let's see a little gratitude then. How 'bout tomorrow?"
"No. It's someone else I should be grateful to. I wasn't even thinking of you when we were doing it."
She saw the red of anger flood his face as she turned abruptly and went out the door.
Katherine didn't know how she was going to face her husband and son after what had happened. But it was the things she'd seen them doing as much as her guilt for her own action that made it difficult. Though she almost wanted to hate Tom for the thing she'd seen, she couldn't quite bring herself to that. She loved him, it seemed, even more dearly now. And the secret she held from him and knew she must keep from him, hung like an albatross about her neck, a horrible crushing, dragging weight. She had to contain the terrible knowledge that not only had he been betrayed by his girlfriend, whore that she was, but by his own father. And ultimately by his mother, Katherine, also. For how could a son look at his mother if he'd known of the terrible things she'd done today.
She'd gone by the service station and picked up the car, then driven aimlessly about the outskirts of town for almost an hour. It was dark by the time she pulled into the drive and started, as a doomed person toward the gallows, up the steps and into the lighted house.
The scene that greeted her in the den was not the somber one she'd expected, of silence and downcast eyes, currents of guilt and tension hanging in the air like a Web which trapped them. They were all three on the floor, Paul squatted like an Indian and Tom lounged on his side, head propped on an elbow, Lys stretched out on her belly to expose her taut rounded young buttocks that strained inside the tight levis. In the center of the triangle their bodies formed was a scrabble board. An ashtray had spilled on the rug and Katherine saw that they all three had drinks. They'd played almost all their letters and from the score tally Tom was keeping on the back of an old writing tablet, she saw that the game was very close. It was Paul's play and he made it even before he looked up to acknowledge her arrival.
"I had a flat," she said before he asked why she was late. "Two of them. As I was coming back from Albuquerque."
After she'd said that, she wondered why she'd bothered. Paul didn't seem worried about her, and he certainly had little excuse to question her whereabouts. And she hadn't planned to tell them anything. She hadn't even thought about the possible necessity of it. But something in her husband's manner had thrown her off guard. Instead of the sheepishness and guilt she'd expected, she sensed in his eyes an arrogance, an expression of triumph and pride. If he only knew, she thought, how she spent the day. It was Tom's go. Paul returned his attention to the board for a moment, then looked back at her.
"Lys cooked an early dinner." He shrugged. "Or late lunch."
"I've eaten," Katherine lied.
Tom made a play and Lys instantly giggled. Paul leaned over and consulted the score sheet.
"Play those three and you win, I guess."
She smiled at him in a way that made no attempt to cover up for what they'd done this morning. "Then I guess I win."
She picked up her last three letters in her hand; still concealing them, she looked up at Katherine with that same open warmth, of neither guilt or resentment, which had so vexed her even before she'd witnessed Lys and Tom in their lewd embrace. She extended her hand slowly to the board, down in the lower right corner, tracing along the word FAMILY spelled out on the bottom horizontal row. Then very slowly one at a time she dropped onto the last vertical row, that ran into FAMILY, the letters G, O, and R. Then she rearranged them to O, R, and G. ORGY, it spelled. At the end of FAMILY.
"Hey, that's pretty good!" exclaimed Tom.
With a sweep of the pen he drew a circle around Lys's initial on the score card. She was looking at Katherine again, her beautiful young face beaming with mischievous challenge. Paul's face flushed and he looked with extreme alarm at the wanton blonde with whom only this afternoon he'd reveled in adultery. Katherine stared in mute rage at the scrabble board for a moment, then turned and hurried out of the room.
Katherine went to her and Paul's bedroom and slipped out of her clothes and into her housecoat, then to the main bathroom and started the tub running with the hottest water she thought she could stand. Then she peeled off the coat and carefully surveyed her exquisite naked body in the full length mirror. It looked no worse for the wear. There was a faint scratch mark beneath one of her breasts, but Paul would never notice it. And if he did he would logically conclude she would have gotten it any number of ways besides the way she did. And she felt all right physically. Her breasts were a little sore from the truck driver's hard sucking at her nipples, and her rectal passage felt a little sore and stretched from the violation of his thumb and she could still feel the wetness of his sperm pooling up inside her. Oh God! Just thinking about it made her want to shudder. But within a couple of days, there would be nothing physical to remind her of her sin. She hoped themental and emotional scars would also be prompt in fading.
Almost half an hour of soaking in the hot bath made her feel nearly human again. Reluctantly she got out of the tub and dried off. As she stepped out of the bathroom she heard the engine of Tom's Volkswagen start. Then it pulled away from the house. When she got back to her bedroom she was surprised to find Paul sitting on the bed with a drink in his hand.
"Tom and Lys went for a ride."
"I bet they did," she said sarcastically. She started to take off her housecoat, then decided to wait a minute or two and see if her dear unfaithful husband would go somewhere else for his nightcap.
"Why do you say that?" he asked after a moment.
"No reason."
He looked at her with eyes searching and intent. Yet she saw they were also full of desire. She wondered how, after what she'd seen this afternoon, he could want more. She'd have thought the little bitch would have been able to satisfy him.
"You don't approve."
"Driving around with a bed in their car?" she gasped, her voice almost cracking. "Living openly in fornication, and neither one of them have said a word about marriage being even the last thing in their minds."
"Do you think that would help?"
Something in the question or in the way he said it took her back. "Now just what do you mean by that?"
"I mean do you think that would help the way you feel about Tom having a woman? Just a little wedding ring?"
"Oh God, Paul! You don't understand!" she spat.
"Truth strikes home again."
Paul tossed his drink down and stood up. The rage passed through her like a blurring wave of inebriation, half blinding her with the tears that rushed to her eyes. The room seemed to turn and she thought she was going to fall. She wanted to scream at him, every lewd detail of everything that truck driver she had picked up had done to her this afternoon, and the obscene thing she'd done for him.
But she didn't. She said nothing. After a moment that seemed an eternity she pulled the robe over her head and tossed it to the floor, exposing for him her satiny, naked body, and walked with eyes still almost closed toward the bed, as if entranced and as if she'd forgotten he was even there so that when he grabbed her, spinning her to face him and hugging her naked body to his, mashing her bared breasts with his chest, running his hands forcefully down her back, across her flaring buttocks, she was almost stunned.
"I want to make love to you tonight, Katherine."
She shook her head, but the motion of it seemed not so much a negative as a wildly sexual gesture, as she'd thrashed her head from side to side earlier today. She felt his hand part her naked buttock cheeks, a faint stinging pain as he moved his finger tip across her sore anus, then a flutter of longing as he sought out the smooth soft lips of her vagina. She sobbed slowly, pushing her body against him, trembling as his hand ignited a trembling passion.
"But not like we've always done it," he croaked in her ear. "I want to really ... "
His voice faded. He couldn't find the words. Instead he kissed her passionately on the lips, thrusting his tongue swiftly into her mouth, groping with it over her own tongue and teeth and palate, back toward her throat. He wormed his finger deeper into her vagina, spreading the eagerly seeping moisture that had rushed down to lubricate its invaded velvet walls. Through his trousers his cock brushed her thighs as it swelled toward its warm hot goal.
She sobbed, wantonly responding to the kiss as she felt the familiar yearnings well in her body. Then suddenly she made a guttural sound of protest, drew her lips from his and wriggled out of his grasp. She backed away, sobbing from the pangs of frustration that rushed swiftly upon her, the body crying again as it had cried out before its triumph earlier today; yet now, as badly as she wanted to, she was unable to yield.
Paul looked at her incredulously and shrugged helplessly, unable to form on his lips the question as to what was wrong with her.
At last he managed to gasp: "Katherine?"
"Haven't you had enough for one day?" she said. Immediately, though she didn't know why, she regretted saying it.
She watched the sinking in his eyes, saw him half turn, then look back sheepishly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Haven't you had enough to drink for one day?" she blurted.
"What?"
"Aren't you drunk enough for one day?"
She was talking insanely and she thought it must sound as though she'd lost her mind. But for some reason she couldn't follow through on the question she'd immediately begun. She didn't want that in the open. She didn't want to enter that, which she sensed would become as an inquiry that would bring one by one each of the family secrets into the open. So instead: her insane sounding diversion. And it seemed to be working. She saw the confused relief in his eyes as he decided his original fear of the meaning of her first question had been founded not on the knowledge on her part, but guilt on his own. At last the arrogance he'd displayed rallied itself.
"No. I haven't had enough to drink. But before this night's over I goddam well will."
He stared angrily at her face, let his eyes drop for just a moment to the lovely black curls of pubic hair between her thighs. Then he turned away and stalked out of the room.
Sobbing, the body over which she'd triumphed taking its evil vengeance in the lashing frustration which tore at her loins like so many starved rats, Katherine fell heavily on the bed.
"This is where I got my first piece of ass," Tom said, gazing off the edge of the bluff before them to the rolling quilt of lights beneath.
Lys squirmed on the seat beside him. The dashlight of the Volkswagen alluringly illuminated her body in a contrast of lights and shadows. They were both naked, but they hadn't gotten into the bed Tom had built in the back before they started their trip.
"Tell me about her," she said. "Was she pretty?"
"In the dark after four bottles of beer."
"Was she a wicked woman of the world? A bar room hussy who recognized your hidden talents?"
"No. She was a cheer leader on the pep squad and I'd just caught the pass that won the district championship."
"You'll have to show me your scrapbook," she said, reaching down and beginning to stroke his already hardened young cock.
"She has it. Or at least I hope she hasn't burned it or used it for toilet paper by now. I'd like to think of that scrapbook as the one, dark secret she still keeps from her husband."
"She was married?"
"She is now." His voice was getting shaky. She'd entwined her hand around his cock, glove tight, and was moving it rhythmically up and down.
"Let's do it again," she said. "What?"
"Re-live that first experience of yours. How did it start?"
"Just like this."
"Like what?"
She stopped the movement of her hand for a moment and he flexed his pulsating member to urge her to begin again.
"Like this. She was going to jack me off, and ... "
"And?"
He shrugged. "And I told her after all it was the district championship and since she'd jacked me off for covering the fumble that saved the Homecoming game, maybe she could see her way to ... "He paused. "Did you ever see anybody as hung up as my parents are?"
"Yes." She gave a few more hard flicks of her wrists. "My parents, until I liberated them."
She licked her lips, smiting seductively in the soft shadows, her little breasts goose bumped in the chill of the night.
"Don't kid yourself."
"I play scrabble for keeps. I mean every word I say." She leaned over and kissed the purplish tip of his rigid cock. "Now, let's get on with your defloration."
CHAPTER SIX
"What's the matter, gal? Somebody jump you?"
Katherine was startled from her depressed reverie by the jovial female voice behind her. Looking up she saw in the back bar-mirror the reflection of the corpulent, pleasant face of a peroxide blonde in a tight sweater and hot pants outfit. Though in no sense pretty, the woman was neither quite homely. She was just a little too fat for her dress to be taken quite seriously. Not completely without sex appeal, what she did have was simply comical in its exaggeration.
"Well cheer up!" she boomed. "Haven't had anything like that happen to me in so long I've forgot what it feels like."
Shamelessly she tugged at her brassiere, which seemed to be cutting into her gargantuan mammaries, and settled onto the bar stool beside Katherine. She ordered a beer and drank from the bottle.
Katherine watched her furtively in the mirror and sipped her own drink. This was another one of those honky tonks that just a day or so ago she would never have imagined herself going into. There were the same songs on the jukebox she'd listened to and danced to yesterday, the same dismal, gadgety neon lighting, the same seamy atmosphere. But she'd felt a compulsion to come to a bar not so much for the alcohol, merely that she had to escape the house and didn't know where else to go. But she didn't want to see anyone she and Paul knew, and she certainly wouldn't have gone back to the other bar and taken a chance of seeing that truck driver, Bill, again. So this had to do.
"An' where is that sonuvabitch anyhow?"
Again the blonde's boisterous voice interrupted her train of thought. She looked up, impatient though the woman didn't seem to notice that.
"I beg your pardon?"
"My goddamn fiance!"
"Oh."
"I'm Mabel," she said. "I got engaged last night, to an acquaintance of mine of some time standing, an' we were gonna have a little celebration party today if the sonuvabitch hasn't sobered up which I doubt and forgot which I wouldn't doubt a' tall."
"I see."
"Maybe you'd like to join us if he does show. He's bringin' a couple of his buddies and I'd feel better if I had another girl along."
"No," Katherine said abruptly.
Unabashed, the blonde touched her softly on the arm. "Well you just wait 'til they get here to make up your mind, dear. A little fun never hurt anybody, especially when they're in a good mood like you look like you are." She winked, squeezing her arm. "Home movies. My fiance's bought a projector down at the pawn shop and one of his buddies has got some real good ones."
Katherine blushed at the thought. She was sure she wasn't mistaken in her assumption that Mabel was talking about dirty movies, and the very suggestion that she might want to watch something like that rankled her. But she couldn't help wondering just how dirty they really were.
"I doubt if well really ever get married though," the woman added, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. Then she smiled. "But it's nice to play the game especially when you've been at it as long as I have."
Katherine tried to smile. Something in the woman's manner then had struck a chord in herself. She felt sympathy, almost understanding. It was easy enough for her to imagine the kind of life Mabel must have had. She thought that after all she must have been through, Mabel would probably laugh at the things that had put Katherine in the dumps. But for Katherine, the problems were still real enough. In a span of little more than twenty-four hours she not only had seen her son and her husband having intercourse with the same woman, but she'd almost participated with them, spiritually or emotionally at least, and she'd fingerfucked herself. And for the first time in her life she'd committed adultery with a man she hardly knew and certainly had not been strongly attracted to. And she'd had oral intercourse, as they called it. And somehow, amid all this lewd degradation, she'd had an orgasm.
A twinge of nostalgia contrary to everything she wanted to feel now caused her stomach to flutter. For a moment she seemed to relive those moments of desperate longing. When she spoke it was in a voice that hardly seemed her own: "These movies? What do they do?"
"Why they do about anything you ever dreamed of," Mabel laughed, her voice resuming its own jovial tone.
Katherine bit her lip. She was thinking again about the eerie feelings that had surged through her as she was watching Paul and Lys in the patio and earlier Tom and Lys in his bedroom. It seemed she couldn't stop the next question that jumped to her lips.
"Do they show people ... having ... sex?"
"My lord, you are interested!"
"I'm just curious," Katherine said, blushing again. She took a hurried drink of her gin and tonic.
"Well they show that," Mabel said. "And they show a lot more than that. But I'm not going to tell you what it is. You'll just have to come along and see for yourself if you really want to know."
"Maybe," Katherine said, wondering how she could really mean it.
They drank silently for a few minutes. Mabel ordered her another drink and got a beer and a shot of whiskey for herself. Katherine was beginning to loosen up. The alcohol really did make her feel better. Though she knew what she'd done yesterday was still a terrible sin, now she was beginning to feel that at least she'd be able to live with it.
"There they are now," Mabel said suddenly.
Katherine looked up at the door and saw the first of the three men, carrying a package that obviously contained several reels of film. He was short and thin and had a whiskey drinker's red nose and bloodshot eyes. Behind him was a taller, gangly redneck type. The third one was Bill, the truck driver that had ravished her so wildly in that broken down motel room the day before.
"Well here's my favorite fiance now!" Mabel said, bouncing off the bar stool and lunging at the man with the reels, whom she almost crushed in her strong fat arms. Then she kissed the gangly one, shook hands with Bill, and turned back to Katherine. "My lover here, Jack. And this is Clyde, an' this big one's Bill. I didn't get your name, honey?"
"Katherine," Katherine whispered.
"Give us three beers," Jack told the bartender.
"An' this is Katherine," said Mabel, turning back to the men.
"We've met," Bill interrupted.
Katherine averted her eyes. She couldn't look at him. She felt dirty all over a dirt that was far more than skin deep. The whole world around her had taken on an eerie, nightmarish quality. It didn't seem real anymore.
"Katherine's comin' along to the party with us," Mabel announced.
She thought she could feel the men's eyes on her body. She thought that shamelessly each of them was undressing her in their minds. But she couldn't bring herself to look up and verify this probability.
"I've changed my mind," she said, still in a whisper. "I don't think I can go."
"Don't be silly," said Mabel, taking her arm and tugging her toward the door. "Drink up, boys. Jack, you gonna take care of our bill?"
"I sort of thought I'd be seeing you again," said Bill.
Rallying her courage, Katherine lifted her eyes. She looked at him with an anger that was only intensified by the mocking glint in his eye. She wet her mouth with her tongue before she spoke in a cracking voice: "I just want you to know that what happened yesterday was ... an exception to the way ... I live. I don't do that sort of thing. I won't do it again."
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mabel staring at her with amazement. Both the other men were leering at her.
Bill grinned and shrugged. "Don't mind me, babe. I can take pussy or leave it. Ain't that right, Mabel?"
"Keep your goddamn dirty hands off her," growled Jack.
"Have I touched her?"
"I dunno, have you?"
They both laughed. Jack pulled out a crumpled wad of bills and paid the bartender. Incredibly it seemed, the three men had already finished their beers and Mabel was hustling them, along with Katherine, toward the door.
"I've got to go home," she said.
"Nonsense," Mabel said.
Katherine noticed almost dumbly as they went out the door that the skinny one, Clyde, had his hand up the crevice of Mabel's fat buttocks.
Katherine didn't know whether the sparsely furnished two-room apartment they went to belonged to Jack or Clyde, but it didn't seem to make any difference. Everyone but her acted immediately at home and set themselves to the tasks at hand: setting up the movie projector and hanging the screen which consisted only of an old bed sheet, mixing and distributing drinks, or in Mabel's case just finding a comfortable vantage point before the screen and drinking. Mabel settled onto the couch. Katherine was going to join her but Clyde sat down on her left side. Her right was obviously reserved for Jack as the projector had been situated there on the coffee table. Feeling insecure as a wallflower at a high school dance, Katherine slipped into a straight-backed chair that sat alone near the corner of the room. She hoped by setting herself apart she could discourage either of the two extra men from trying to pair off with her. She wanted nothing more to do with Bill; she'd come here just to see the movies, because she was curious.
Mabel tried to prompt her to take the one easy chair, situated near the end of the couch, but she refused. There was too much room in it and she was sure Bill would have joined her there. But she was grateful for the drink Jack brought her at Mabel's urging. Then Bill cut the lights off and took his own place in the easy chair and Jack started the first reel. Though the curtains didn't completely blot out the afternoon sun, they were effective enough that the picture was clear and sharply contrasted.
On screen was what appeared to be a motel bedroom. There was a young, pretty girl who looked like a hippie with hair almost as long as Lys's, dressed in only a pair of bikini pants, with bracelets weighting both her wrists like shackles and beads half hiding her small ripe breasts. At an apparent off-screen cue she began to dance, writhing slowly like a charmed cobra, her arms extended into the air above her head, her small shapely buttocks undulating suggestively. The camera dollied and panned, changing the angle and shooting past her to include the bed, where a boy who didn't look more than fifteen years old lounged in the nude, watching her hungrily, his long thin cock standing straight in the air amid his thin cluster of pubic hair.
Involuntarily Katherine gasped. Then to her surprise the screen went black and she heard Jack curse softly.
"What's the matter?" she croaked.
"Hey calm down," Mabel said.
"Wrong goddamned reel," muttered Jack. "I didn't bring you here to watch a bunch of cocksuckin' hippies!"
Katherine felt a surge of bitter disappointment. The sight of that young, so innocent looking boy had struck a raw nerve in her. Even as she'd thought of the disgusting aspects of the spectacle, of the fact that what would follow, certainly fucking and no-telling what else, would have been done not in private out of lust and passion but in front of a director and camera man and perhaps even other technicians solely for the purpose of exploiting the public, she'd found herself craving to participate as a voyeur in the act as she had two nights ago in an act that had stemmed from lust and passion and she presumed even a perverted love.
"Here's the goddamn thing," Jack said, fitting another reel on the projector. "This is that thing from Old Mexico I was tellin' you about, honey."
The screen lit up again to show what appeared to be a stage in a sleazy night club. A master of ceremonies, obviously a Mexican, came before the curtain and made a few remarks, though what he'd said couldn't be known as the film was silent. Then the ragged curtains behind him opened to reveal the stage, empty except for a large bed with an iron bedstead. The M.C. went to the eaves and returned leading a ravenous Mexican girl dressed in a tight black dress which accented the curves of her voluptuous body, complimented her raven-colored hair and flashing black eyes. He turned to the camera, made a few more inaudible remarks, and the girl bowed, a faint smile playing on her full lips. As the M.C. exited she began to undress, slipping the long dress slowly upwards to expose her well-defined calves and rounded thighs. The black of her long silk stockings, held in place by a lace-trimmed garter belt, contrasted sharply with her rich dark flesh. Then the dress snaked its way over her head and her beautifully rounded torso emerged. Her bra fell to the floor with but a flick of her finger behind her back and the full beauty of her firm, ripe breasts was revealed.
"Now watch this," said Jack. "This was shot live in a Tijuana night club. If you look close you can see some of the audience some times. This is really happening!"
"So what'll it be, a donkey or a dog?" Mabel asked.
Bill guffawed and Katherine shivered at the thought of such an absurd proposition.
The girl's breasts stood up high and proud in the stage light and her nipples, which were almost maroon against her rich brown flesh, stood out on the luscious spheres, peaked higher as she raised her arms high over her head, pulling the long black hair up, then releasing it to cascade softly over her alluring shoulders.
She was naked now except for her high heels and long black hose, the garter belt and her flimsy, almost transparent panties through which was visible the dark shadow of the vee of her black pubic hair. She turned arid bent over slowly, her ripe velvety buttocks to the screen, and pulled the hose tantalizingly down off them, and sensuously down her smooth thighs and calves. She discarded them at her feet, then wriggled out of the panties and naked except for the garter belt, turned back to expose the intimate dark beauty between her silken thighs.
Katherine shifted her eyes momentarily from the screen and saw that Mabel was unbuttoning Jack's trousers, now removing his already hard cock, stroking it gently with her pudgy hands. Nervously she averted her eyes from this scene, back to the screen. She would have got up and gone now, but she felt a compulsion to see what was going to happen next, what kind of a man the girl's partner would be.
Now she lay back on the bed, writhing languidly as if beneath an imaginary lover who was already stroking her body to life. She caressed herself on the breasts, her fingers tweaking her soft nipples to even riper firmness. Her legs scissored open and closed slowly, exposing for a moment the thin slit of her vagina nestled teasingly in the soft, darkly curling pubic hair between her thighs. Her buttocks twisted against the mattress. Sheer wanton desire shone in her eyes. Her hand moved from her breasts down her belly and slipped between her thighs, and sensuously she began to stroke the silken pubic hair until the pink bud of her clitoris emerged.
And strangely, in spite of her resolve not to, Katherine felt a disquietening longing flood her own body. She knew what desire was now, the desire that could push a woman to the delirium of fingering herself, or push her to commit acts she thought sordid and obscene. Though it was only an act, and though she knew the girl probably felt none of the emotions displayed in the tortured expression on her face on screen, Katherine suspended her disbelief. It seemed real to her. And she felt the resolve she'd made as she'd first come here weakening. She knew it was just a matter of time until she was going to have to try to say no to somebody, at least from the way Mabel was going after her fiance on the couch.
Now as the girl on screen frantically undulated between the manipulations of her hand on her clitoris and in her vagina, the M.C. walked back on stage and stood, apparently without her knowledge, at the head of the bed, watching her writhing body with a lewd smile. Her movements increased in speed, her hand stroking more rapidly, the strain in her face becoming more and more obvious. Then, just as it appeared she was about to cum, the M.C. leaned over from the back of the bedstead and seized both her arms, pulling them over her head and between the brass bars.
The girl's body contorted as though in agony and her mouth opened wide as she voiced a silent scream. For a moment she struggled, then unable to free her arms from the M.C. 's strong grasp, she let her body sink limply, her breasts heaving with her strained breathing. She watched with stupefied, teared eyes as the man took a small nylon cord from his pocket and carefully bound both her wrists together, crossed, and then with the remaining length of cord attached the bound wrists to one of the bars on the bedstead above her head. Then he turned back to the camera and the supposedly existent audience and made several more remarks, which from the look on his face he apparently took to be very humorous. He and the camera returned their attention to the bound, naked girl. For a moment she did nothing. It was as though the absurdity of her predicament had shocked her beyond credence and she only lay motionless, staring stupidly between her heaving breasts down the length of her yearning, tingling body. Then she began to tug at the cords that bound her. She contorted her body wildly, undulating and hunching her satiny hips, thrusting her loins into the air as if groping madly for an imaginary organ there to ease the agony of her craving. Her face formed what was unquestionably a scream for mercy, and on the edge of the screen the M.C. could be seen, laughing at and mocking her. She tugged harder at the ropes, until they must have cut into her wrists, arching her exposed, vulnerable breasts, drawing them even more taut. A I shudder passed the length of her surrendered body. Then she lifted one leg, cocking it at the knee, and trailed her foot up the tender flesh of the inner thigh of her other leg, straining, reaching ... It was hopeless. It wouldn't quite reach. Her vagina cried out to be touched and there was no way she could do it. Sobbing, she began to scoot her hips back and forth on the bed as though in the hope that little friction on her anus would somehow ease her unbearable hunger.
Katherine lifted her drink and guzzled the last half glass of the gin and tonic, mostly gin. Out of the corner of her mouth she saw Mabel bend down and take her fiance's penis in her mouth, licking gently over the big purple tip of it, gradually lowering her head farther and taking more of it into her widely ovaled mouth. She made an obscene gurgling sound as Jack drove his loins upward, squirming with obvious excitement on the couch. As Mabel bent farther over she presented her globular buttocks, clearly out-lined in the absurd tight hot pants. Clyde pushed his hand between the two mounds and began to prod her cunt from the outside of her pants. Bill's attention for the moment was still focused on the screen where the girl continued to writhe in the agony of her frustration.
Katherine got up and stumbled to the kitchen and poured herself almost a full glass of gin, added only a splash of the tonic, and returned to the living room. The effect of the film, though it seemed infinitely more lewd and obscene and sinful, was somewhat the same as the effect of her two voyeuristic episodes. She was so hot she could hardly stand it, yet it seemed that the longing engulfed more than just her body, seemed that her very being, her spirit, were hypnotized and mesmerized with the wanton contortions of the bound girl on screen. She felt that she must have always been at least symbolically in the same predicament: her body crying out to be touched, her hands hopelessly bound, satisfaction beyond her reach. "Now watch this!" Jack hissed. An anguished cry burst involuntarily from Katherine's throat.
On screen the camera angle had shifted suddenly to shoot past the girl's bound and waiting body onto the eaves of the opposite side of the stage. An old Mexican man in a straw hat and farmer's clothing had entered. Straining on a leash before him was the largest, most vicious-looking German shepherd Katherine had ever seen.
The girl froze. For an instant her splendid naked body was inert as if in deep slumber. Only her eyes reflected the consciousness of her mind. eyes now wild and wide with terror. Her tongue darted from her mouth to moisten her voluptuous lips, and down she gazed between her taut, arched breasts over the smooth contours of the satiny flesh of her defenseless body. In the background, the dog strained at its leash, baring his sharp snaggled teeth in a visually perceptible growl. The M.C. bent toward the girl's face and asked her something. Tears streaming from her eyes, she shook her head so frantically her long back hair was whipped wildly from side to side. Again she struggled futilely at her fetters. The M.C. said something else, a lewd smile adorning his frightening face. He placed one of his hands on her breasts, tweaking the nipples to even riper hardness, and trailed the hand lightly down her stomach, dawdling for an instant at her navel before brushing it through the hair at her pubis, over her tortured clitoris, and removing it. The woman sighed; she looked for a moment as if she would swoon, and her body writhed gently. Then the M.C. said something else and the fright returned to her eyes and again her vocal protests were obvious even if they could not be heard.
Katherine averted her eyes from the screen. She saw that Mabel was now rec-lined on the couch on her side, her face in Jack's lap, turned toward the screen so she could watch the movie even as she sucked him. Clyde was taking care of the lower half of her body. He pulled the hot pants down off her fat white buttocks and was feverishly fingering her pussy and tickling her tight brown little anus with his thumb. Embarrassed, Katherine averted her eyes a second time and found herself staring at Bill. He in turn was staring back at her, a look of lewd, challenging triumph in his eyes. He patted the arm of the easy chair beside him and motioned for her to come over. A soft, almost whimpering sob escaped her and she shook her head and looked back at the screen. She knew he'd seen the rampant desire in her eyes.
On screen the M.C. gestured at the old man with the dog, and as the girl continued to kick and struggle and scream in protest, he bent and unsnapped the leash. The dog bounded forward and leaped onto the bed between her thighs, which the beautiful Mexican girl had reflexively spread to prevent the animal's landing on them with all four nailed paws. Now she froze in terror, not daring to move as the dog growled menacingly over her, his great panting head just above her defenseless parted thighs.
Katherine wanted to jump up and run screaming from the room. But now her eyes were transfixed by the spectacle on the screen. The desire that consumed her body was no longer merely lewd or obscene; it was warped. The vision of the shackled girl at the mercy of the vicious dog sent shivers of revulsion tingling over her skin, yet she was fascinated. She got a sadistic joy out of the beautiful, but helpless young creature's plight, and a correlative masochistic joy out of her own twisted identity with it.
The dog lowered its head to the defenseless girl's body, sniffing the silken strands of pubic hair between her thighs. The girl's hips twitched in terror as its long tongue drooped from his mouth and lapped at her clitoris, then sank lower, sliding across the exposed slit of her already moistened cunt. For a moment longer she held her body tense with fear. Then she started to squirm away. But another growl from the terrible looking animal stilled that urge. She closed her eyes with resignation, ready to submit to her ordeal.
Then the dog began to lap greedily at the narrow pink slit between her thighs. He ran his tongue wetly the full length of it, flicking it out to caress her legs, spreading it wetting the hair that -lined the fluted, pink edges of the slit. Gradually the girl's body began to respond, at first a gentle shifting that from the look in her eyes surprised her. But then the terror and revulsion faded, replaced again by the wanton hunger that she'd displayed as she'd frantically tried to relive her voracious desire before the beast appeared. Again she mouthed a cry, this time wantonly, deliriously. Again she seemed to be struggling at her bonds, but in fact it was apparent that she was using them for leverage as she began to squirm and writhe and undulate her satiny hips in response to the animal's tongue tantalizing her fragrant vagina. And at last she kicked her legs up over her head, presenting the dog with even greater access to her nakedly exposed young pussy, inviting him to lick it, to thrust his long pointed nose into her lubricated vulva, to satiate the desire that tormented her.
Suddenly Katherine was on her feet. Sobbing as she tore her eyes from the screen, she stumbled toward the door. As if it were distant, she heard the lewd wet slurping noise of Mabel sucking her fiance's cock. It sounded bizarre and surrealistic, like the bizarre, surrealistic nightmare she'd been watching on the screen, like the unnatural wanton craving that had seized her being and from which she thought she must flee this minute or give up and yield herself and her body irrefutably to its dark bondage.
Bill caught her at the door. She hadn't even been aware of his movement but he was standing in front of her, directly in her path, and she was walking on toward him as though he didn't exist and she thought she would be able to walk straight through him and out of that horrible nightmare. Then he caught her, holding her almost limp body to his, and turned her back to face the screen.
At the M.C.'s directions, the girl was rolling over onto her belly, pulling her knees up under her body to thrust her buttocks into the air, a position to which the application of that old phmse "dog fashion" was about to become a lurid double-entendre.
With another sob Katherine jerked her face from the screen again and buried it in the curve of the truck driver's neck, her body shaking, tears spilling from her eyes. Again as a distant sound she could hear the noises of the three on the couch, and though she was only half conscious of it she thought there must be a struggle going on. Then she turned her face upward hungrily, her lips meeting Bill's. In an instant she abandoned all hope of winning the feeble struggle against her desire. Giving in, she sucked his tongue into her mouth as eagerly as yesterday she sucked his cock. And for a timeless passage, she seemed to float unconsciously, away in an ecstatic void all her own. Then Jack's voice startled her back to reality: "Get your goddamn finger outta there you sonuvabitch!"
She looked back at the couch. Jack and Clyde sat turned to face each other. Mabel, still rec-lined, was out of her view.
"Now I mean it," said Jack. "You wanna play shares with somebody play shares with Bill."
"I didn't mean no harm," said Clyde, turning toward Katherine and rising to his feet.
She just glimpsed the gleam in his eye before her attention was recaptured by the picture on the screen. As she felt Bill begin to unbutton her dress down the back she didn't resist.
The girl was on all fours and the huge German shepherd mounted the spread mounds of her buttocks, resting the weight of his chest on her back, his legs dangling beside her arms almost to the bed. The glistening red penis, which now looked as large as a man's, and a well-hung man at that, slipped from its sheath, dripping fluid, and the tapered point slipped and danced into the hot wet crevice as the animal trembled and jerked, trying to bury the tapered point and the thick long shaft in her body. Sobbing, the girl looked back. Again she made an effort to free herself from the bonds which, though they allowed her the liberty to turn over to assume the position the animal required, still held her a prisoner at its savage mercy.
Bill pulled the dress off Katherine's shoulders and she felt it slither gently to the floor. Again she averted her eyes from the screen and watched Clyde walk toward her, his own eyes devouring her curved, well-tanned body that was protected now only by her nylon brassiere, panties, and hose. She bit her Hp and feebly shook her head. She was going to tell them that she wasn't going to do the thing they must certainly be expecting now: that she make love to both of them, take turns, be a gang fuck like some girls she had heard about long ago in school. But the words didn't come to her lips.
Bill flicked his finger and her brassiere sprang loose in the back. He pulled the straps apart and her gorgeous, long and pointed breasts sprang free. The caress of the air caused her nipples to assume immediate rigidity. Standing behind her, he seized the elastic tops of her panties and jerked them down off her buttocks, ripping them loose and pulling them free of her garter belt, exposing her velvety buttocks for himself in the back, and for the other man, Clyde, in front, the lovely black curling triangle of pussy hair that crested her pubis and a vague glimpse of the top of her already slick and moist vaginal cunt.
Then Clyde was upon her, his hands pawing hungrily at her exposed breasts, and she was trying to wriggle away from him and could feel her buttocks brush Bill's crotch on the outside of his trousers, and felt Bill's arms come around her from behind to push Clyde's hands away from her naked breasts.
"You can help now," Bill said. "And you can have sloppy seconds if there's anything left of her after I'm finished. But I've got a little score to settle and you'll goddamn sure wait!"
"I didn't mean no harm," Clyde repeated, backing away.
He must have an I.Q. of about 26, Katherine found herself thinking, and the thought was so absurd as to be almost, but not quite, comical. Then she remembered dully her parting words to Bill yesterday afternoon. But she didn't resist as he pushed her toward the rug spread on the floor in the corner of the room and urged her down to her knees. Then he sat down beside her and shoved her to a reclining position on her back, jerking her thighs that were still covered by the sheer hose wide apart. Clyde followed timidly as a puppy dog.
"Take her arms," Bill commanded him, "and hold 'em down."
Katherine sobbed, shaking her head. She didn't quite even grasp the implication of that, but she felt some last strain of decency that compelled her to make at least a token refusal to everything they tried. For a moment Clyde also didn't seem to understand. Then he fell down beside her and seized her wrists, pulling her limp arms above her head to arch her breasts tantalizingly, like the girl in the film moments ago, and pin them hard to the floor.
"Now hold her good and don't let her loose till tell you," said Bill.
She screamed, kicking and struggling, tugging desperately to free her arms. But it was useless. He seemed as strong as he was stupid. She might as well have been chained.
Gripped with terror, Katherine squeezed her legs closed. Her body twisted wildly as she tried to squirm away from the big hairy form that was lowering itself toward her unprotected vaginal slit. It seemed then in an instant her whole body broke out in a sweat and the contours of her writhing flesh glistened in the darkness. Then she felt Bill's hands at her knees, pushing her thighs apart again. She closed her eyes and cried out once more in protest. Then the cry evolved, gradually, to a soft moan of ecstasy as she felt his mouth wetly touch the widespread lips of her naked pussy, as she felt the first electric charges of pleasure titillate her loins and go shooting outward through her body as his tongue invaded the moist slit of her cunt and began a limber, tantalizing probing and curling up inside.
For a moment she surrendered completely to the joy his tongue sent rippling into her loins. She lay still, sobbing softly, her pinioned arms limp. Then she spread her thighs wider, planting her feet flat and solidly on the floor out on either side of him. She arched her hips up to meet his face, undulating and hunching them hungrily upward as his tongue darted like the tongue of a carnivorous lizard in and out of the soft velvety inner folds. She felt his hands slide beneath her, seizing the flesh of her tender buttocks, guiding her movements to suit his own taste. She tugged at her arms and found a strange, engulfing security at the knowledge that she couldn't resist, that she was completely at their mercy and there was no way she could have refused the wanton pleasure Bill gave her by eating and licking at her pussy even if she had wanted to. She began to moan and whimper softly, urging him on, to thrust his tongue deeper, to suck harder on her tingling pleading clitoris.
"Oh yes," she whispered. "Yes, it feels so good."
"Goddamn, she'd really likin' it," she heard Clyde say.
She continued to moan and cry as if in a strange religious chant. It seemed nothing had ever felt so good as this, as the liquid and limber tongue slipping wetly in and out and around her vagina, the lips caressing her clitoris. Her legs splayed out and using her stationed arms for leverage she jackknifed her knees up high and pressed her knees back hard against her lewdly swaying breasts to open her cunt as wide as she could to him. He pulled the upturned crevice of her crotch even further apart with his hands, stretching it cruelly as if he wanted to gore out the forbidden depths of her open cuntal cavity with his tongue. Then he dropped from her vagina, brushing it lightly over her tight puckered anus, sending a more bizarre tingle of pleasure through her. Then his lips moved back up to her clitoris and began to suck her even more in earnest.
A strange masochistic wildness had taken hold of her body as she lay, spread-eagled and helpless before him as he ravished her clitoris and cunt with his lips and tongue. She ground her hips in wild abandon against the maddening limber probing. Suddenly, nothing mattered but the pleasure and the demand for more pleasure that filled her loins and rippled over every inch of her naked flesh. There was nothing else in the world and she writhed and twisted beneath his impalement, gasping and screaming as though gripped in religious delirium, seized by tongues.
"Oh god yes! Suck me! Suck me harder! I'm going to cum!"
Her body worked beneath his, her thighs spasmodically opening and closing on the sides of his head, her vaginal juices flowing out hotly over his lips and cheeks as the orgasm approached. Her belly began to rise and fall quickly and her head flailed wildly from side to side on the rug. She thrashed her pinioned body about crazily and he thrust his tongue deeper, Shoving her to the verge of it again where it had seemed she lingered so long yesterday, there where she could almost reach out and touch it, where it beckoned to her, demanded her to come to it, out of herself.
Then a terrible sob escaped her. He left her and she could hear him straightening up between her thighs. She jerked her arms and found them still pinioned above her, tears rushing down her cheeks as she opened her eyes.
He'd straightened up to a kneeling position between her still wide-spread, quivering thighs. She stared at him with disbelief, her body contorted by her sobs.
"What the hell's wrong?" said Clyde.
Bill laughed. "I think that's what she's wondering. But you just keep your mouth shut and hold her and you'll both find out soon enough."
He dropped a hand between her thighs and brushed it just softly over the hungrily quivering little slit of her vagina. A tremor went though her body. Then she hissed as he took it away.
"I got a little idea watching that movie," he explained. "Now tell me, honey, what do you want."
"My god," she cried with disbelief. "I want to cum again!"
"Again?"
"Like yesterday," she sobbed. "Please!"
"Now we're getting somewhere. Who were you thinking about yesterday when I was fucking you?"
"What?"
He loosened one of her nylons from the garter belt and peeled it tediously off the rich silken flesh of her thigh. Again she shivered with longing.
"Who were you thinking about? You said it wasn't me. Who was it?"
She shook her head feebly. "No. Don't talk about that. Just fuck me and make me cum!"
"Who was it?" he said, laughing, again lightly brushing her torturously trembling vagina with his hand and causing the terrible desire and frustration that gripped her to flourish as if in an ovation that mocked her body and spirit.
"Nobody," she whimpered weakly.
"NOW GODDAMN IT I WANNA KNOW!"
"My husband."
"You're lying."
"All right," she cried. "It was nothing. Just get on top of me and fuck me! Please fuck me! Please!"
"All of us?" Bill laughed. "Clyde and Jack too?"
"Yes. I don't care who, just fuck me."
He began to tenderly stroke her clitoris again. "Then answer my question and we will. Who was it?"
"My son," she gasped, her body sagging.
"I'll be goddamned, I should have guessed."
He started unbuttoning his trousers and above her head, out of her sight, she could hear Clyde rustling with his belt. Out of the corner of her eye she caught another glimpse of the screen.
The show had apparently ended. The M.C. had just finished untying the girl and now she dropped to her feet before the bed, smiling unashamedly in her lovely nakedness, bowed toward the camera, then leaned to pet the dog, which was wagging its tail like a playful pup.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"What's the matter with mother?"
Paul Beauchamp was taken completely off-guard by the abruptness and directness of his son's question. And though he'd understood it clearly enough, he felt obliged to stall for time.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, She's not herself. She's not even here. And she wasn't here yesterday. And ... Jesus, Dad. You know what I mean."
"I guess she just can't stand the shock of you coming here with ... Lys." Paul wondered what his wife would think if she knew that at this very moment Lys was sunbathing naked in their patio, or if just yesterday he'd fucked her right there in that patio while Katherine was running her errand in Albuquerque. But strangely, today he didn't give a goddamn. He was tired of the whole damned mess, of the nights of scuffling with her frigid body, of living a vegetable's married life. Yesterday with Lys seemed to have opened his eyes.
"I guess I shouldn't have brought her," Tom said bitterly. "I should have dropped her in Albuquerque and come up here just for a couple of days, alone. But I wanted mother to accept me as I really am not the castrated All American dream boy she wanted. I think we'll probably leave a few days early. This isn't doing any good."
"Don't do that," Paul said, and instantly thought he'd spoken too quickly. He waited for a moment, but Tom didn't seem to have noticed anything. "I mean, give her a few days to adjust."
"Yeah, maybe," Tom sighed, rising. "I think I'll see if Lys has anything she wants to do and if she doesn't I'll go play a few games of pool in town."
"Yeah ... why not?" Paul said, looking away guiltily as he seized the hope that he'd get a chance to repeat yesterday's episode with his son's teenage young girlfriend.
He waited, on edge, reading the paper but paying no attention to the words, until Tom came back.
"She says she doesn't." Paul's son shrugged, perhaps uncomfortably. "Guess I'll see you later, Dad."
"Yeah, sure."
Paul listened to the rumbling as the Volkswagen engine started, then heard it back out of the drive and move away. The sound grew gradually softer, at last inaudible. He waited a couple of more minutes, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he imagined the sight of the lovely blonde body stretched out naked and waiting in the warm sun. He'd been anticipating this possibility ever since Katherine had said she was going into town to visit one of her girlfriends for the afternoon. Actually, he'd anticipated it since this morning when he'd decided not to go to the office, where by all rights he should be even though there was nothing that couldn't be put off until tomorrow. But Christ! Who could blame him after what he'd been through with Katherine, and after the fuck the little gal had given him yesterday?
Suddenly resolute, Paul tossed his newspaper aside and stood up. He paused for a moment, almost relishing the surety of his own determination. Then he walked out of the living room and back to the patio.
She looked as if she was asleep. Her eyes were closed, her golden face turned upward into the sun. Her arms were stretched out, palms up, to either side of her body to arch and part her small, firm and naked breasts. Her thighs were just a few inches apart, just enough that he could see nestled in the thin, blondly curling pubic hair the soft shadow of the line of the slit of her fragrant young cunt.
It was as beautiful a sight as he'd ever seen in his life, a pose of flawless pulchritudity in innocent, open and unreserved surrender. As though loath to disturb the beauty of a last sanctuary of virgin nature, he tip-toed onto the tile, toward her, avoiding her lovely body with his very shadow until he could come to a halt near her feet.
She opened her eyes slowly, squinting in the bright sunlight, and looked up at him.
"Care to join me again?"
"In the bedroom," he said tersely.
An intrigued smile crept over her face.
"All right," she said after a moment. "I'd like to get fucked in Tom's mother's bed."
She got to her feet with his assistance, picked up the towel she'd lain on, and walked with him naked to the bedroom. As he watched the gentle flowing motion of the movement of her firm naked hips, the long blond hair swishing against the curve of her lower back, Paul again felt the appreciation and jealousy for his son. But his guilt was fading, replaced by a cool, seething anger. He was going to fuck her like she'd never been fucked in her life. He was going to fuck her for Tom, and for Katherine his frigid wife. He was going to fuck her for all the years he'd wasted. He was going to summon forth all the frustrated energy that had lain almost dormant in him.
He closed the bedroom door and as a rather useless precaution threw the latch, then he urged her over to the bed. As Lys rec-lined on her back, pushing the pillows off to the floor out of then-way, Paul slowly undressed, unflinching and no longer hesitant before her eager watching eyes. His bashfulness from yesterday had gone. He tossed his shirt aside and in a single motion pulled off both his trousers and shorts. His cock, which was already bursting hard, was bent down by the gesture and sprang back upward to freedom like an unleashed catapult. He heard the girl's soft hiss of admiration and saw the eager red flush to her face, the wanton glassy look fill her eyes as she sensed his brutal lust. Languidly she stretched her lithe golden body in anticipation as he walked to the bed and sat down beside her, pausing to relish the flawless naked beauty for a moment before he leaned over slowly and touched his lips to the hot soft flesh of her belly, inches below her navel.
A soft moan exuded from her as she felt the moisture of his lips on her belly, as he dragged his tongue along the silken line of soft white down that extended from her navel to blossom suddenly into the flowering blonde patch of hair over her fragrant young cuntal lips.
"Yes, Paul," he heard her whisper, already a note of delirium in her voice.
He moved his head lower and felt her hand come to rest on the bare skin of his buttock, sending a tingling chill through him. Then he flicked his tongue out experimentally and felt her jerk and quiver slightly as it came into contact with the smooth moist flesh exposed between the narrow, thin slit of her vagina. He licked gently at the hardening little clitoris snuggled just above the tightly inviting little crevice, and he felt a sudden reinforcement of the sense of power with which he'd first approached her as he heard her low wail with her almost cracking voice, a sound of pleading and surrender he knew he would amplify many fold before he finished with her.
He took hold of the two outer folds of her vaginal flesh with his thumbs and spread the ragged moist edges of the moistly pulsating slit farther apart, pausing for an instant to gaze into the forbidden pink crevice before he lowered his head again and with his tongue traced a path up and down the full length of it. Hearing her breathing increase, feeling her hips begin to twitch spasmodically, he warmed to the task, thrusting his tongue in deeper, pulling her lips wider apart with his thumbs, his fingers tantalizing the soft erogenous zones on the tender inner flesh of her thighs. His sense of power grew with each of her soft pleading moans and he found himself consciously teasing her, holding her cunt apart with just the tip of his tongue inserted in its gasping entrance, waiting poised with it as she squirmed and pleaded, holding himself back until the last instant, then flicking it in again and sending a violent, ecstatic shudder through her body.
Almost as an afterthought to the act as he performed it, he mused that he'd never even licked his own wife's pussy, just as she'd never sucked him. He'd tried. He'd pushed her head down one night a very long time ago, but had yielded to her refusal when he felt her body recoil in revulsion. On more than one other time he'd kissed down the lovely warm flesh of his wife's belly, to the hot sweet skin of her thighs, but always she'd tugged him upward or voiced a vocal protest that had quelled his desire to pay her this homage, to show her the joy it could afford. But now, as he felt his son's young voluptuously built girlfriend squirm beneath him, heard the soft moans and cries that issued wildly from her lips, he could hardly imagine how he could have let his wife go through her life without experiencing this, without knowing the joy of yielding up all of one's body without reservation for the pleasure of their mate or partner.
The groans and twisting increased until he pressed his head forward and thrust his tongue out lizard-like, sinking it deep in the wet opening of her pussy. There was a weird, soulful cry from her lips and then a slow, set grinding of her loins up against his face. Her hand slid between his buttocks, softly caressing his scrotum, and then he felt her begin to tug his own lower half up toward the head of the bed. Suddenly understanding, he climbed astraddle her, never lifting his face from her wet, gyrating crotch, he held himself poised in a crouch over her until he felt her fingers caress the sensitive, bursting head of his penis, and guide it to her lips as he lowered his body on her face. He gulped, making a loud slurpy sound in her pussy as he felt his cock slide between her lips and shoved it quickly almost to the back of her throat, nailing her head down on the bed with it and rewarding her for that humiliation with an even deeper hungrier flick of his tongue in her wet, coppery-tasting young pussy.
"Oh yes," she moaned, almost unintelligibly around the hot fleshy shaft that filled her mouth and stretched her lips wide. Beneath his loins she began to bounce her head up and down in time with the lunging motion of her loins upon his own tongue. He braced himself on his elbows, slid his hands down beneath her thighs at the clefts of the smooth rounded globes of her buttocks and pulled her crotch up tighter into his face. He could feel tiny dewdrops of moisture forming against his cheeks on the edges of the soft blonde hair that surrounded his lips. He nipped gently with his teeth into the soft fleshy folds surrounding the excitedly widening hole and reveled in the muffled squeal it brought from her. His tongue slavered on and on in the moistness of her loins, increasing little by little in speed and depth until he brought her whole body into absolute subjugation to the whims of his flicking tongue. And as he felt the tension building in her, felt her body yielding to the rushing demands of her desire, he intensified even more the vicious rape of her mouth until he was thrusting his cock in and out with a heavy jolting impact.
Then the sounds that issued from her throat and the sucking of her mouth and caress on his cock changed suddenly. The lunging of her hips became more intense and he felt her legs rise up around his neck and squeeze his face as if to tug his head deeper into her loins. Her hot soft thighs squeezed his ears like muffs and her hips began to jerk in a wanton circular motion as the fluttering waves of her rush toward climax engulfed her.
Then she squirmed her face away from his own loins, for a moment avoiding the invasion of his cock in her mouth, and cried in a soft, distant sounding and delirious voice: "Let's cum together! Like this."
"Yes," he almost whispered into her thrashing loins. "Let's cum together like this."
For the first time anyway. He knew he wouldn't have any trouble going again when they finished, maybe even several times the way he felt today.
* * *
Katherine knew she'd had it when she said that. It wasn't so much admitting it to them as admitting it to herself that was important. She'd been thinking about her son Tom when she had exploded into her first orgasm with Bill yesterday. And in her delirium then, as she licked the cum and her own vaginal lubricants issued in the act of adultery from his enormous, obscene cock, it had been with more than a mother's devotion that she'd thought about her son. And that was her real sin. This physical degradation and the lewd acts of the flesh she performed now were paled in the face of that sin of the mind, of that evil thought, that forbidden desire that though it could never be fulfilled was far more terrible than any of the hideous things she could do with her body for these people.
The realization crept over her, and with it a marvelous sense of freedom: so she no longer had to fight this. She could yield up almost joyously to whatever they had in store for her here. Because this was nothing compared to what was in her mind.
"You hear that, Jack?" Bill cried triumphantly. "She wants to take us all three on."
Mabel made an only half-felt cry of protest. Clyde, who still held her arms pinioned to the rug above her naked body, leaned over and kissed her, bottom-side-upwards, on the mouth. She opened her lips willingly, breathing in his strong, beer-flavored breath, letting his tongue snake greedily between her teeth. Again she shuddered as Bill's hand returned to her loins, teasingly spreading her slick vaginal lips, his body lowering between her thighs, his rigid cock teasing her soft, ready flesh.
Clyde lifted his face, looking hungrily into her half closed eyes. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. "Bill? I don't know if I can wait. How about I fuck her in the mouth while you're takin' care of her cunt?"
Bill paused, his cock poised before the twitching lips of her vagina. "How about that, babe? Both of us at once, all right?"
She said nothing, merely squirmed her body anxiously, thrashing her head from side to side in her longing, her hair whipping over her naked pinioned arms.
"Turn her loose," said Bill.
"Hey," Jack called from the couch. "Save a place for me, boys."
"Not until you finish here," Mabel squealed.
"Turn over," Bill said, withdrawing to a kneeling position between her thighs.
Clyde turned loose of her arms and instinctively she drew them down the length of her body, across the yearning flesh of her breasts, down her warm belly, brushing them both through the thick dampened tangle of pubic hair and shoving them between her thighs.
"Turn over," he told her again.
A sob of mingled pleasure and fear escaping her, she rolled onto her belly. Before her face, Clyde began to unbuckle his trousers.
"Up on your knees and stick that gorgeous curved ass of yours up in the air," Bill commanded behind her.
Abandoning herself completely as the desire consumed her body, she got to her knees, pushing her hips up invitingly and spreading her thighs wide behind. She gasped as she saw Clyde's long thin cock, already throbbing hard, pop into freedom in front of her face. Looking back beneath her arm, past her lovely hanging breasts, she watched Bill kneel behind her defenselessly exposed buttock cheeks. His cock looked somehow even larger and broader and more menacing than it had yesterday, and confused with her maddening craving, she found a chill of fear, fear that it would be too big, that in this humiliating, slave-like position it would go in her too easily and too deeply, that it would tear her apart.
Then she shivered as she felt it touch the naked tingling flesh of her buttocks. He bent downward, guiding it beneath her tiny puckered anus into the curls of her pubic hair, shoving just the tip of it into the slippery outer folds of the flesh of her cunt. His hands seized her flaring pelvic bones, pulling her backwards as the hard rubbery head shoved against the tight, elastic-like resistance. Then the resistance began to give way as inch by inch it wormed its way up between the slippery velvety walls of her cunt.
In front of her the one named Clyde pushed his own hardened length downward toward her mouth. A soft whimper escaped her and she rounded her lipstick-rimmed lips, flicked her tongue out cautiously to caress just the purple tip of it. Then she felt his hands seize her hair, pulling her face forward and thrusting it deeper into her mouth even as Bill behind her pulled backward on her loins to skewer her to the hilt on his heavily palpitating shaft.
"Aaaagh!" she cried, her thin, tensile-like lips stretching wide around Clyde's invading member, allowing him to thrust it farther into the warm saliva of her mouth, almost to the back of her throat.
Bill lunged forward ruthlessly, his loins smacking loudly back into her buttocks, and Clyde began a slow undulation of his own hips, the long cock sliding in and out of her mouth, one of his hands holding her hair to guide the movement of her head, the other crawling over her naked body, down beneath her arm to grasp one of her dangling breasts and tease and pinch at the already rigid nipple.
Bill began to rhythmically fuck up into her lewdly upraised vagina, filling her belly full with his giant cock, shifting about to alter the angle and strike new and even more sensitive areas deep inside her. His hands roved backward to her nakedly writhing buttocks, squeezing the soft vibrant flesh brutally, parting them so he could look down and watch clearly the repeated entry and retreat of his cock in her tightly clasping little pussy, and just above the place where it sawed into her, inspect the forbidden brown little hole of her rectal lips.
Katherine forgot the humiliation and degradation of being sandwiched between and fucked so brutally at the same time by these two crude men. It no longer mattered that she was allowing one of them to fuck her from behind in the same fashion she'd watched the dog fuck the woman on the screen moments ago or that the other one was using her mouth as a receptacle for his sperm-bloated cock, which only two or was it three now days ago had so repulsed and exhilarated her when she'd seen her own son doing it to his teenage girlfriend. Nothing mattered but the satiation of the raging desire that had driven her to her knees in total subjugation. Only a few minutes ago, as she'd lain pinioned on her back on the floor, her vagina twitching in the spasms of unfulfilled craving, it had seemed in her delirium that only one more touch, one more flick of his tongue into the gasping depths, would have been all she needed. Instead the desire was not appeased, but raged even more wildly, demanding more and more.
She began sucking the cock in her mouth in earnest now, running her tongue wetly around and around the slippery lubricated head of it and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist gland until she could feel it throbbing as though it had a life of its own and would erupt at any moment into a great gushing fountain of obscenely flowing male semen. He head bobbed up and down slavishly over the thick shaft of flesh, sucking more desperately, feverishly, as if somehow this cock that filled her mouth functioned in tune with the larger, wider one that fucked rhythmically back into her vagina, as if she thought that somehow the ministrations of her lips and tongue on this one could prompt the other to the feat that would satiate her insane longing.
She felt Bill twisting about behind her, his fingers still kneading the sensitive flesh of her upturned buttocks, one of them flicking down to her vaginal lips to spread the moisture up over her anus. He pulled his cock almost out of her, causing her hips to quiver in desperation, then thrust it in even more viciously, the impact jolting her helpless body and causing her to do something with her mouth that made Clyde grunt in pain, then shove her penis even harder into her mouth, prodding all the way back toward her tonsils so she thought for a moment she would gag.
Suddenly she felt the tip of Bill's finger, slick with the vaginal juices he'd spread to her anus, circle teasingly around the tightly clenched little nether ring guarding the entrance to her rectum, then with an abrupt thrust pop it into the first joint in her.
She gave out with a sharp cry, shaking her head and causing Clyde to squirm away from her reflexively.
"Oh, God, it hurts," she mumbled around the heavily bloated cock filling her mouth.
Then, with a long neat thrust, Bill, behind her, shoved his cock back into her hotly clasping cunt to the hilt, skewering her like an insect on the long brutal shaft. She grunted in pain and joy, sobbing, tears filling her eyes. Clyde pushed his cock back between her lips and again sank it almost to her throat.
She moaned and gurgled, her buttocks retreating as Bill's finger rotated around inside painfully, then inched slowly deeper into her tight rubbery rectum. Grunts of protest escaped from her tight stretched lips as he continued the digging and probing that for a moment completely obliterated the sensation of his cock in her vagina. She caught her breath, wriggling again away from the pain. Then miraculously it began to subside and again she was aware of the sharp, sensuous feel of the cock that now fucked rapidly in and out of her open pussy. In humble gratitude, she intensified the licking and sucking of her mouth and tongue on Clyde's hugely swelling maleness, and a suddenly altered twitching of his hips warned her that soon he would be losing control.
He groaned above her flaying head and she sucked more hungrily, her mouth salivating as it never had before as she felt Bill fuck viciously in and out of her cunt, as his finger pulled at the tight ring of her anus, playing at will in the white fleshy confines of the wet, upturned crevice.
Clyde's cock began a sudden jerking motion and spewed with a vengeance the hot jets of his cum deep into her throat. She groaned and continued her sucking desperately as she felt her own orgasm begin to come within reach, a rushing like a great wind that blew through her whole body and bent her like a feeble shaft of grass.
Her Adam's apple bobbed in rapid rhythm as she felt the spurts hit her throat, and swallowed the gushing sperm that kept spurting hotly into the warm flooding moistness of her mouth. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic ring around it just below the head and held desperately to the twitching instrument, swirling her tongue around and around the rhythmically jerking tip. She wanted to suck it dry, and his groans of pleasure incited her to greater effort. The shooting continued, for an eternity it seemed, and when that had stopped and she felt the cock going flaccid in her mouth, she began to lick off the cum and saliva that covered it, beginning at the base and flicking her tongue into the tiny tufts of pubic hair, then moving hungrily back up the shaft to lick it there.
Behind her, Bill was still fucking with wicked abandon into her vagina and asshole, racking her body and causing it to contort from the pain of his loins smacking her buttocks. She heard strained animal grunts issuing from his throat and, knowing he was also going to cum, she clasped her vaginal muscles as tight as she could around his rapidly skewering rod, twisting and squirming her buttocks to increase her own sensations. She had to cum with him. She had to! There was no telling what degradation they would subject her to before giving her the satisfaction she had to have if she wasn't able to attain it this time.
"Don't stop fucking me," she wailed through sperm covered lips, letting Clyde's limp, cum-drained penis drop from her mouth. "Oh God, don't stop yet!"
She rocked backwards, skewering her anus even more deeply on Bill's thumb, shivering as she felt the fluttering tingling sensations course salaciously through her body. Then Bill suddenly groaned behind her and began a series of sharp staccato lunges that racked her whole slavishly kneeling form and ground even farther into her already stretched and filled cunt. She heard the sudden change in his breathing, felt the shaft seem to grow even larger and wider. For an instant he was still and she squirmed and wriggled in mad desperation. Then a blurring wave passed through her. She screamed in ecstasy as she felt the release burst over her and simultaneously sensed the final throbbing palpitations of his cock seconds before his own hotly jetting seminal fluids hosed thickly up into her hungrily welcoming belly.
Time stopped. There was a gap, from which she remembered nothing: only a dream-like recollection of screams and sighs, blurred drifting indefinable visions, the sharp burning sensation of pleasure so intense it hurt. Then she was laying face down on the rug, her hair spilled down over her head to hide her eyes, her hips still quivering lewdly and shamelessly into the air, and slowly Bill withdrew.
"Goddamn that was something!" Clyde said.
"Sure was."
She heard footsteps across the room and looking up she saw Jack, his socks and shirt on but his pants off, approaching her. She shook her head weakly and rolled onto her side.
"Oh God, no more, please! I've had enough!"
"The hell you say," said Jack, dropping to his knees beside her.
"I think I'm probably good for another round too," Clyde said contemplatively.
Another whimper of protest escaped her.
"What about you, Bill?" one of the men said.
"Just let me catch my breath."
"I'll start another movie," Mabel said.
"All right," grunted Jack. "Just don't break the goddamn thing."
"Go to hell."
Watery eyed, Katherine looked up at the three men, who now sat in a triangle around her prone, naked and quivering body. Resigned, she moistened her lips, faintly nodding her head in agreement.
"Just let me catch my breath too."
"Hell, you'll catch it soon enough," said Jack, reaching down to touch and explore her voluptuous, exposed breast.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the picture flash onto the screen, the same reel with the young adolescent boy in it that Jack had begun by mistake before they watched the one with the dog.
"Leave that one, Mabel," she said. "Please. I want to watch that one while ... "
Jack eyed her curiously for a moment, then laughed softly. "All right then. Let's move up to the couch so you can straddle me and see the goddamn kid good while you get fucked. Mabel, you can set in the easy chair and run the projector from there."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The idea must have come to her mind as she watched the film of the young boy and the dancing, hippie girl. Though she hadn't admitted at the time that it was anything more than a fantasy. But unconsciously she'd compared what she watched on the screen, the young innocent boy fucking the long-haired girl, with what was being done to her: namely Jack eating her pussy while Bill fucked her in the mouth and Clyde played with her tits and fingered her in the asshole. And fuck was the only word for it. Only the bluntest, dirtiest words suited to describe that scene. Yet near the end, she'd been more aware of the film than of what was happening to her, the mingled sensations of pain and pleasure and the degradation and humiliation and outrageous lust that racked her surrendered, naked body. And even then, somewhere in the back of her mind had hovered the thought: If I am going to do these horrible things and now it doesn't seem as though I can help myself why don't I at least do it with someone beautiful and attractive and why don't I at least make it worthwhile?
After she'd left Jack's apartment and gone sheepishly home to face her husband and son and that beautiful intruder, her son's girlfriend, in her house on whom she still placed the blame for all that had happened since her arrival, the thought lingered faintly with her. Even once at night she awoke from a dream about the boy in the film. And at breakfast this morning the presence of her virile young son, Tom, had served to remind her of it again though still only as a fantasy.
Paul had to go to the office and Lys and Tom wanted to get out in the country for the afternoon. They invited her to join them, but she was unable to believe they could really want her along. She had a pretty good idea what they'd probably prefer to spend an afternoon in the country doing. That, plus the fact that she was still unable to hold a civil manner in Lys's presence, and the fact that she already had a vague inkling of her own intentions, prompted her to make her excuses and refuse.
But even then, almost two hours passed before she finally had taken the car and driven with hardly a sideward glance through town and gotten on the Albuquerque highway. It was a brisk, pleasant day, sunny but with tones of gray, early signs of autumn everywhere. Katherine selected a high collared knit sweater she'd picked up on sale last spring and had never worn, and a tightly sheathed blue midi skirt and a pair of rich, maroon stockings. The combination gave her a youthful look. From behind, she thought, she could easily have been taken as a college girl. From the facial view she looked only slightly more mature. She wore almost no make-up; it gave her a fresh, ironically almost innocent look. For some inexplicable reason, she felt very good today. The recollections of the horrible things she'd done yesterday for the most part eluded her. Perhaps it was amental block.
But even when she reached the last small town between her home and Albuquerque, Katherine was only vaguely aware of her purpose for coming. She acted with the attitude that she was only out for an afternoon drive to relax a little bit. It was with a seeming blind, unconscious instinct that she maneuvered the automobile through the small, Spanish-styled town, along the dirt road that led past the deserted high school (school wouldn't commence for about another week) and parked along side the athletic field.
It was then that she saw him and the shattering, horrible idea came to mind!
He was blonde-headed, but cleaner-cut than Tom. He was also a bit taller and even more sinewy, actually built very much like Paul had been when they first started dating. When Katherine first parked the car and started watching him, he was wearing a pair of track shorts, tennis shoes, and a gray warm-up sweater, and he was on the far turn of the track that surrounded the football field, jogging easily with long smooth strides. Her first impulse was to forget her silly idea and start the car and drive back before she made a total fool out of herself, but instead she cut the motor and sat almost breathless, staring at the swift almost musical movements of the running figure.
He rounded the entire track one more time, seemingly with no notice of Katherine, then stopped at the starting marker before the grandstands on the far side of the field. For several minutes he just paced about slowly, heaving to catch his breath, his hands on his hips. Now he did see her, or at least saw her car, but after a short glance he seemed to take no notice of her. But Katherine watched him intently, her eyes taking in his every gesture as he began to limber up, stretching his long, sinewy and deeply tanned thighs. Then, when he peeled the warm-up over his head to reveal his lean, hard chest, she caught her breath reflexively. Subtly came and passed the vision of the three men who had fucked her until she was half-conscious yesterday: drunken, out of shape, sweaty and dirty and hairy. How genuinely beautiful this young man's figure was in comparison!
As if spellbound or entranced, Katherine removed the keys from the ignition and got out of the car. Hesitantly as though the ground beneath her feet were a layer of egg shells, she walked toward the bleachers on this side of the field and the ribbon of cinder track that lay beyond them. Even then she could feel her heart pounding and hear her breath escaping in strained, hoarse gasps. Gradually, as she drew closer to the near side of the field, her pace hastened. She threw off the questions that bombarded her mind: why am I here? what do I think I'm going to do? How do I begin or what do I even say to him?
Just before the straight-away of cinder on this side of the field she encountered a tightly stretched cable barrier. She paused for a moment, wondering whether to try to get over it or to bend down and crawl under. She decided to go over, then wondered when she tried it if she hadn't made a mistake. She straddled the cable and found she could only put one leg to the ground in that position. Her skirt was hiked far up her thighs and the cable tore the crotch of her panty hose. For an instant she teetered and thought she was going to fall, and that was when he saw her. Flushing with embarrassment, she made a supreme effort and managed to extract herself from the absurd position. Then, trying to regain her composure, she traversed the ten yards of black cinder and started across the football turf.
He watched her curiously now. His eyes drifted down the length of her body and returned bashfully to her face. As she drew somewhat closer he looked away entirely, which allowed her the chance to feast her eyes unhesitatingly on his beautiful, deeply tanned young physique that was cloaked only in his thin white track shorts. She could see the outline of his jock strap, and there was a large, tell-tale bulge at the crotch that made her catch her breath. He certainly couldn't have an erection after the laps around that four hundred and forty yard track, and even soft his penis looked enormous.
When she was but paces away from him he looked back at her, then moved to pick up his warm-up sweater.
"No, don't!" Katherine gasped in a tone far too emphatic.
He turned his eyes back to her strangely, holding the sweater ready to pull over his head, yet not quite doing so.
"I mean: don't bother," she said weakly. "I mean, it doesn't upset me and ... I just wanted to watch ... you run."
He seemed to think this over, then with a shrug tossed the sweater back to the ground. Katherine stepped onto the cinders of that straight-away and started toward the bench at the foot of the grandstand. But she caught her shoe heel on the concrete railing that -lined the track and almost fell. The young man fairly sprang to her rescue, catching her shoulders and holding her with his strong lean hands until she could regain her balance. She almost sobbed as he released her and stepped away, again staring at her with a curiosity that made her feel very uncomfortable. They'd been so close for an instant that their bodies had almost touched, that she could smell the clean, yet strong aroma of the body sweat he'd worked up with his running. And now, for a moment after she'd found her balance, they still stood very near each other, Katherine trembling with the embarrassment and self-consciousness and the forbidden excitement that raged already beyond control in her loins. Then sheepishly she turned from him and walked, carefully, to the bench and sat down. When she looked back at him she saw he was still staring at her with the same curious eyes. She shifted uncomfortably and smoothed down her skirt, which had again been pulled indecently far up above her knees, and weakly smiled.
"Hello. I'm ... Katherine." She'd had the strangest impulse to use a phony name, but somehow had seemed unable to think of one. It must have sounded as if she'd forgotten her own. "I ... I just had nothing particular to do and ... my husband was a very good track man when ... we were first married. I just drifted by here and saw you and ... "
Her voice faded. It all sounded so hopeless and ridiculous. And she thought he must surely sense her real motive in coming here, unconscious as it might have been. He must be laughing at her inwardly, ridiculing her.
It seemed she'd almost expected that laughter, certain that at the next instant it would come bursting from his thin lips. But instead he totally surprised her by turning and bounding back onto the track and starting down the straight-away. Katherine watched him hungrily, glad for the chance to do it without him looking back at her. Now he was sprinting, and his speed was astonishing. He rounded the first turn, gliding as if each step was a long swift leap, every muscle on his nearly naked body tautly toned, working in smoothly moving cohesion. He covered the distance of the far straight-away with equal speed, rounded the last curve and came sprinting back toward the finish line. When he crossed it and came to a slow stop twenty yards down the track, he'd still been moving at a rapid pace. Now, panting so that his well defined chest heaved, he walked back toward her.
God, she caught herself thinking. With wind like that he could probably fuck me forever.
And the fact that he might be a little quick to shoot the first time would probably make little or no difference at all. A man in really good shape could probably go again and again, like Paul had wanted to when they were first married. But then, of course, she hadn't been able to appreciate it.
"You're fast," she said, herself almost as breathless as he was.
He shrugged. "I don't know. Not fast enough."
For a moment they were both silent, looking at each other. She was unable to prevent her eyes drifting again down the length of his flawless young body, lingering for a disquietening instant at the enormous bulge in his shorts. And he was looking at her almost the same way, with the same mixture of appreciation and reticence. She thought he was shy and she took comfort in believing he was probably as frightened of her as she was of him.
"What's your name?" she said finally, realizing the silent staring had gone far too long.
"Tod."
"Tod," she said softly. "A healthy ... athletic name."
He shrugged again and Katherine bit her lip. She knew the thing that was in her mind was wrong, more wrong even than the other terrible acts she'd committed during the last several days. But she was obsessed with the fantasy that had been first triggered by the movie, that had lingered in her mind through the night and morning, that now seemed meant to be as she looked at this handsome, innocent and athletic looking creature. She had to have him! She had to at all cost, all embarrassment and humiliation. The urge engulfed her and she was like clay in its cruelly caressing hands.
"How old are you, Tod?"
"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen next spring. This is my senior year coming up."
Katherine moistened her lips and managed a smile, but she thought it must look lecherous as a witch's.
"Do you ... have a girlfriend."
He blushed. She liked that.
"Well, not a steady one." He looked away. "Girls make me nervous sometimes."
Katherine studied his face, his averted eyes, intently for a moment. What she sensed thrilled her almost beyond imagination. He was a young virile virgin. He must be a virgin. That could be the only explanation for his not having sensed and responded to the sordid aspect of her presence and the way she'd looked at him. Again she wet her lips, the anticipation building inside her, shoving aside her reasoning and guilt, blinding her so she could see nothing but the lewdly beautiful vision of the fantasy turning real.
"Maybe you just need to learn a little more about girls," she said in a trembling voice.
He looked back at her sharply, his face blanching for a moment, his clear blue eyes filled with excitement and shock, his brows turned in a puzzled frown.
"Do you understand what I mean?"
"I don't know," he stumbled.
Almost incredibly, Katherine felt a bizarre quality of courage creeping over her. The flutter of nervousness that remained seemed only anticipation of the act that she now knew was imminent beyond anything she tried to do about it. It was inevitable. Somehow, she was going through with what still seemed the impossible, and as she prepared to cross the line of no return, she did so almost without fear or anxiety.
"What do you think I mean?" she said strongly. "Tell me what you think I mean." Now, as she gazed upon his body, she made no attempt to disguise her purpose.
Tod shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He half turned away from her, then looked abruptly back. He wet his lips and swallowed hard.
"What are you trying to make me say? I mean, maybe I understand and maybe I've misunderstood you completely. But it's hard to say ... " She smiled. "Did you ever think it might be just as hard for me to say?"
"Awwww!" Again he half turned away, looked abruptly back. "I thought you might have been trying to suggest ... It sounds crazy! I mean it sounds crazy with me saying it!"
Katherine's eyes dropped to the bulge in his shorts, grown appreciably bigger during this last exchange. She knew he was getting an erection.
"I mean, you're a very beautiful lady," he blurted. "I mean it! And I just can't say ... "
"You can't say that you'd like for me to teach you?"
"Yes. I couldn't say that."
"Have you ever had a woman, Tod?"
She wanted to know that for sure. She didn't want it to be just speculation that triggered the even more intense excitement that drove her. But even before he answered she knew, from the mixed resentment and shame that crept into his eyes, that her previous presumption had been correct.
"No," he said at last.
"Would you like to have me now?"
Was that her own voice saying that? she wondered.
He gulped, his eyes rushing over the lush curves of her slender, lovely body. "Y-e-s."
She stood up. "Do you know a place we can go?"
"I know an old house that's empty. Out of town. Nobody ever goes there."
"All right. Then well go."
She walked past him and started back over the straight-away of the cinder track and onto the football field.
Looking back, she saw him pick up his jersey and hasten to catch up to her.
During the ten minute drive to the old vacant farm house they hardly spoke. Her desire causing her whole body to prickle, Katherine dreamed of the act that lay before her, an act she had instigated and would direct, mold as a sculpture to the exact shape and texture she desired. Until now she'd always been a mere object, almost a victim of circumstance. But this would be different. She was going into this with determination, with eyes wide open. She didn't even care any more about the consequences.
Katherine parked in front of the old wood house and they went through the rickety front yard gate, up the shaky steps, and Tod reached through a broken pane in the front door glass to let them in. Inside it was a little dirty and the scattered furniture was falling apart, but in no way did it possess the sordid quality of the place where she'd gone with Bill or Jack's apartment where she'd spent yesterday afternoon in an assortment of lascivious postures.
"The bedroom's back there," Tod stammered. "Some of the boys at school ... bring their dates here sometime."
"But you never have?" Katherine said with a smile.
"He gulped. "I have, but ... "
"You're scared, aren't you?"
"I ... I just don't see why a beautiful woman like you would want to ... go to all this trouble for a kid like me."
She wanted to burst into laughter, but she contented herself with another smile. "It's not trouble, Tod. Trouble it is not. And I'm scared too, a little."
"You are?"
"Yes. Come on."
She walked past him in the direction he'd indicated to the bedroom. It looked pretty much like the rest of the house. The bed frame itself was broken down and the mattress had been pulled to the floor beside it. There were a couple of cloud-shaped stains that attested to its use, but it looked clean enough other than that.
Katherine resisted the urge to bend down and test its bounce with her hand she didn't want to look too professional, as much as she felt like a whore, and turned back to him.
Again he swallowed, shifting nervously on his feet. "I'm afraid I don't even know where to begin," he said, his eyes descending, frightened and eager, to her still clothed body.
"You could start by kissing me."
Nervously he stepped to her and kissed her on the lips, at first cautiously but she opened her mouth, breathing hotly into his, and quickly enough prompted him to insert his tongue. Compared to her recent experiences, he seemed really good at it.
"And you might touch my body," she gasped. "And caress and massage and feel it."
Again there was an instant's hesitation on his part. Then his hands, which during the first kiss had hung astonishingly limp at his sides, moved suddenly to her body, roving forcefully over the smooth contours of her back, down the fine line of her spine, then both gradually beneath her arms to the sides of her heaving breasts.
Katherine squirmed wantonly, fitting her vaginal mound to the gigantic bulge in his shorts so she could feel his hard young maleness prod teasingly at her loins through her skirt and panties. Her own hands moved up beneath his jersey, roving over the long, sinewy muscles of his athletic body. What a contrast this was, she thought, to the bodies she'd spent the last two days with: theirs flaccid and hairy, this smooth and hard and healthy, like Paul had been when they were first married and she was too blind to appreciate it, or like her own son, Tom, now.
Suddenly, Tod's hands began to go mad. He tore her sweater up from her skirt, his fingers fumbling eagerly and clumsily with the cups of her bra, his breath coming in hoarse, strained gasps. In desperation, unable to free her large, swelling breasts from the restricting cups, he ripped them away. Katherine gasped from the sharp pain of the straps cutting into her back before it tore, then the pleasure sensation as his hands began to maul the breasts exposed beneath her sweater. It was with a genuine reluctance that, after a moment, she pushed his hands away.
"Easy," she whispered, trying to catch her own breath. "We have plenty of time, let's don't get in a rush."
He drew back from her, hanging his head almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry," he croaked.
She laughed softly, gustily. "You don't have to say that. But look: just undress me, slowly. Enjoy yourself at it and let me enjoy it too."
His eyes darted hungrily up and down the length of her body. He looked almost as if he were inclined to clap his hands with glee as he began. He moved toward her again with the bashfulness swept away by his raging desire. Yet when his hands touched her body this time it was gently, with trembling.
Katherine extended her arms above her head and Tod took hold of the tail of her sweater and drew it slowly upward over her slender, flawlessly defined torso, gradually pulling it over the breasts highly arched by the position of her arms. Her nipples tingled with their exposure to the evening air and swelled to sharp hard points. He continued to draw the sweater upward until it had passed over her head, then dropped his hands again to the arched, globular mounds of her breasts, now caressing them softly, cupping them so that the palms of his hands caused a tantalizing friction on the sensitive pink tips. In his eyes, she saw the ravenous appreciation of their flawless beauty.
"Kiss them, if you want to," she said through gritted teeth.
He leaned forward, his hands sliding aside and beneath her arms as he touched his lips to one of the hard, perforated nipples.
Katherine drew in a deep strained breath, her arms dropping to his head to pull it eagerly to her bosom. "Suck it," she moaned. "Take it into your mouth."
He needed no further urging. Greedily he fastened his lips like a suction cup wide around the tingling breast, filling his mouth with it, his tongue flicking wildly over the tip and causing Katherine's whole body to writhe from the intense, blinding pleasure. After a few moments he moved his head to the other breast and repeated the performance, driving her desire to an even more urgent pitch. At last he drew his head back, again looking down at the flawlessly beautiful mounds, the nipples wet and glistening with the saliva from his own mouth.
"Now my skirt."
His hands moved down her spine, sending chills through her body. His fingers fumbled as clumsily with the zipper snap in back as they had with the bra cups, but this time he desisted from trying to rip it. At last he managed to get it loose and drew the zipper quickly down the crevice of her buttocks, pulling the skirt open and easing it off her flaring pelvis and ripe firmly curved hips as she wriggled sensuously.
She stepped out of the skirt and brushed it aside with her foot, then kicked off her shoes. Now she wore only the panty hose. She slipped her own thumbs inside the elastic of these, catching her sheer panties in the process, and began to squirm out of them. Her eyes roved hungrily over Tod's youthful body, still concealed beneath the warm-up jersey and track shorts. She moistened her lips suggestively with her tongue, her eyes glistening as the nylon hose slipped off the black-haired mound of her pubis, nestled in the silken flesh of her slender thighs. She saw Tod's eyes bulge as they feasted upon the black triangle of the hair, the shadowy crack of her vagina only partially hidden by the silken curls.
"Now your turn," she hissed.
His face flushed again and for an instant he hesitated. Then resolutely he whipped the jersey off his head and tossed it aside. In another swift motion he pulled off the shorts and jock strap.
Katherine gasped audibly as he exposed himself completely, her watery eyes descending eagerly to the huge long shaft that protruded up erectly from the thin patch of his own, almost blonde pubic hair. Then mutually they rushed forward, falling into each other's arms, their bodies pressing tightly together and writhing and twisting in distinct suggestion of the act to come even as they both remained on their feet.
Katherine felt her breasts mashed mercilessly by the hard lean muscles of his chest, felt the hardness of his manhood prod threateningly at her crotch, slide angularly up her belly as though to mark the point to which it would reach inside her. His balls brushed at her budding clitoris, his hands roved madly over the yielded flesh of her body. At last, with an agonized whimper, she pulled away from him and dropped to her knees on the mattress. An instant later she was on her back and he was lying beside her, ready to roll on top her.
Against all her own volition she stopped him. "Wait," she purred through her tortured breathing. "Make me ready." Inwardly she laughed. Never in her life had she been so ready for anything. "Kiss me again and run your hands over me."
He needed scarce encouragement. Madly he kissed her on the lips, his hands kneading at her breasts, then moving wildly down the sensitive burning flesh of her belly, between her half-parted thighs, to brush deliciously over her glistening, hard clitoris. He moved his lips from her mouth, again covered one of her breasts, now sucking it ravenously so her whole body contorted with the wanton longing that engulfed her.
Then his finger touched the slit of her vagina and her hips jerked suddenly as she felt the sharp, knifing pleasure. "Put it in," she moaned, already almost delirious. "Put it in!"
He probed experimentally, parting the pink, juice-coated lips of her cunt with his middle finger, spreading the flooding moisture outwards into the softly lining curls of her pubic hair. Then in a swift motion, flicked the finger into the tight, slippery folds. Her body stiffened, jerking again. A wail that sounded as though she were in torment issued from her throat and he hesitated.
"No," she cried. "You're not hurting me! Finger me deeper!"
Reassured, he again shoved the finger, to the second knuckle this time, burying it deeply in the tight, warm crevice. Her hips retreated from the sudden probing, but as he began to move his finger slowly in and out of the liquidly squeezing warmth between her thighs, she thrust them back upward and began to undulate wantonly in response.
His lips moved from her breasts, lower, tracing a trail of fire on her tingling, demanding flesh. She moaned and sobbed, her hands running wildly through his hair. At her navel he paused, his tongue flicking curiously into it. Then he raised his head, gazing toward the beckoning mantel of her pubic hair.
For an instant the motions of his finger in her cunt ceased. Opening her eyes, which had been tightly closed, Katherine watched him.
"What do you want to do, Tod?"
"It sounds so crazy," he said through his strained breathing.
"You want to ... kiss it? To lick me between my legs?"
"It seems dirty, but I want to."
"Nothing you really want to do with all your heart is dirty."
Something in the back recesses of her mind called to her, again asking if that was her own voice she heard, if that was her who'd always considered everything that pertained to the flesh filthy and vile, saying that nothing was dirty.
"Then I want to," he croaked.
His head moved down her body toward her undulating loins. The finger slipped wetly out of her cunt, left her sending stabs of frustration throughout her being. She gave out with a tortured sob, but at the last moment as she felt his lips brush into the sensitive almost ticklish hair of her cunt, she caught his head and stopped him, tugging him desperately upwards.
"Save that for later, please," she moaned. "After you've fucked me the first time."
He looked at her with a curious disbelief, as if he found that prospect somewhat appalling. Then he seemed to forget any anxieties he might have about that and concentrate completely on the invitation for the present. He slid suddenly back up her body, lowering himself between her wide parted thighs. Katherine slipped her hands between them and explored his taut lower abdomen until her fingers found the hard pulsating object of her search.
A moan of dread and fear escaped her as she felt the true size of his cock for the first time. She thought it must have grown more than another inch in length since he'd first removed his shorts and jock strap, and it had increased in diameter as well. For a nervous fluttering instant she wondered if she would be able to take it, wondered if it would not rip her tender body apart at the seams, so to speak. Then her hesitation retreated. She had to have it. The desire that welled in her smothered the fear. No matter how much it hurt and stretched her succulent, tight cunt she had to have it in her. Nothing short of being fucked crazy by his virile young cock would satiate her now, and she knew it.
With a sob of resignation and anticipation, Katherine guided the smooth rubbery head and the long hot shaft toward her hungrily pleading cuntal lips. Above her, the boy grunted, his lean sinewy body trembling as though with last agony of growth.
"Easy," she whispered, gritting her teeth in readiness as she parted the soft resilient strands of her pussy hair with the tip and slipped the head of his penis between the slick fleshy folds of her cunt.
A knife-like stabbing shot through her body and she cried out, again causing Tod to tense and hesitate. For a moment she thought he was going to pull completely out of her, and she grabbed his hips and held his body firmly to her own. Though relief from the pain of the intrusion might have been welcome, her bleary mind sensed that the frustration of the loss would be even more terrible.
"Just take it easy," she gasped again. "Fuck it up into me easy and slow, all the way down to your balls."
Her body stiffened and she gave out with another abandoned cry as Tod thrust again, gently but firmly. She felt another sharp stab of pain, then a faint easing as the fluids poured forth, lubricating the tight inner walls and allowing the excitedly hardened shaft to worm its way slowly inward, inward until at least a heaving sigh escaped her and her body relaxed, sinking down on the mattress, and the pain began to fade.
"God Almighty," he moaned in her ear, sagging on her and flexing his enormous young penis so that a tremor went through the body prone beneath him. "It feels so warm and wet around it I don't know if I can even move."
"Then don't for a minute," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Get used to it."
They both lay still for what must have been a full sixty seconds, the only sound their harsh heavy breathing. Then together they began to move, at first subtle, almost imperceptible gestures of their bodies, slight shiftings of their hips, Tod's flexing of the virile young penis within her. Gradually the movements become more overt. Katherine punctuated the shifting sounds of their bodies with soft, distant-sounding moans of ecstasy. Tod braced himself on his arms, panting loudly as a winded dog, and began to lunge back and forth, piercing her with new stabs of indistinguishable pain and pleasure.
Gradually he increased the rhythm of his thrusts, lengthening the strokes until he was driving all the way up into the bottom depths of her cunt, racking her body until she cried out deliriously and entwined her leg tight about him. Then far too soon for Katherine, an abrupt alteration in his movements signaled her he was going to cum.
"No, wait!" she screamed in desperation, her legs kicking wildly in the air, her hands clawing at his back.
He froze upon her, his body trembling. "I don't think I can hold it," he gasped. "I just can't!"
Katherine's mind raced madly. She'd half expected this would be the case. A boy who never had a woman couldn't be expected to possess the control demanded of a man, but she'd presumed he'd be eager and excited enough to fuck more than once. But what if he couldn't? What if the premature ejaculation and her eager demands that followed embarrassed him to the extent that he couldn't manage another erection immediately? She knew she couldn't stand that with her own maddening desire at the furious pitch she'd reached. But she thought there was one fool proof method of taking his first jets of semen into her and still insuring that his magnificent young cock would be hard for the second. Katherine was almost certain the act of cumming in another woman's mouth would be for this naive adolescent boy far more exciting than satiating. With a little luck he'd be hotter when he finished than he had been when he started.
"Get off," she gasped, shoving him off.
Reluctantly he withdrew. With a soft cry of frustration, Katherine urged him over onto his back. She turned on her side toward him, reaching out with her hand and softly stroking his cock, entwining her fingers around it and beginning to move the tightly stretched skin slowly up and down. But the gnawing in her own loins was almost more than she could bear. She knew she had to have something to appease her own craving while she was waiting. Suddenly she shifted about on the bed, kneeling to extend her firm buttocks toward him almost the same position as when she'd sucked Bill and gotten her first orgasm.
"Put your finger in my pussy," she moaned. "Finger fuck me while I suck you."
With an eager groan the young teenager complied. Katherine sighed at the mild relief and dropped her face toward his hardness, suddenly flicking her tongue forward, the tip boring teasingly into the wetness of the tiny gland on the end. He sucked in his breath from the sudden contact. Another groan issued from his lips. Katherine brought her mouth down all the way and enclosed the whole of the sensitive head in the warm, moist pressure. Her lips tightened like an elastic band around it just below the head, trapping it completely inside the warm wet cavern of her mouth.
"Jesus," he groaned, shoving his finger deeper into the wet, tormented walls of her cunt.
She twitched her hips wildly, looking down her nose at the hard, glistening shaft, still wet from the juices of her own cunt, watched it inch slowly and deeply into her tightly locked mouth. She massaged the soft resilient skin of his testicles gently with one hand and stroked the base of his cock between the thumb and forefinger of the other as she began to suck rhythmically up and down.
In a matter of moments Katherine felt the first throbbing reaction of coming orgasm and began to suck harder, the tips of her teeth digging gently into the taut, resisting flesh, leaving thin white trails where they had scraped the blood from beneath the surface of the skin. She shifted position slightly, kneeling lower into his crotch and taking in as much of the giant shaft as her mouth would hold. She slid a hand under his buttocks and cupped them in her palms, and she felt him intensify the probings of his finger in her cunt. Her tongue swiped round and round the growing gland furiously until she knew it was reaching the bursting point. Obsessed, she continued the maddening sucking.
He arched his back off the bed, pushing even deeper into her mouth. Greedily, her lips clung to the thrusting cock. He groaned over and over and over again as if in complete incomprehension of the sensations she evoked with the gentle manipulations of her lips and tongue. Suddenly she heard him gasp. The moment was here and a low, guttural sound started from somewhere deep in his chest as the hot sticky young sperm began its surge from the sanctity of his balls and began spewing in hot thin streams up into her ravenously sucking mouth. Her cheeks expanded and hollowed fish-like as she greedily swallowed the warm flooding gushes of his fresh tasting adolescent virility. She went on with the wild sucking even as he'd emptied of the hot white sperm. Sporadically she coughed and gurgled, swallowing it to regain her breath. Slowly his cock deflated in her mouth, but then she continued licking until it was dry.
At last she raised her head, rocking back on her hips until she was in a sitting position beside him, her parted buttocks resting on his hand. With satisfaction she watched the young cock stir and begin to grow again.
But even after it had become erect, standing up like a tall palm out of his light colored pubic hair, it didn't seem to have the monstrous proportions it had assumed before. And she wanted all of it at its best, every inch of its incredible length and diameter. She wanted the tearing pain of it as much as she wanted the pleasure.
Slowly, Katherine settled onto her own back. She could wait if she had something to occupy her in the meantime. She looked at Tod through her watery, narrowed eyes.
"Now it's your turn to lick me, darling." Katherine spread her thighs wide, arching her hips and undulating them in lewd erotic invitation as, wide-eyed, Tod lowered his face toward her loins. He kissed her lightly at the crest of her pubic mound, then without further delay sank his lips onto her tingling bud of a clitoris, sucking it up between his teeth gently, sending ripples of longing to course through her already desire crazed body.
"Move down," she gasped. "Kneel between my legs so you can get to it."
He shifted his body to comply and Katherine parted her thighs even wider. The first touch of his tongue on her dripping nether lips was like the lash of a whip that stung her to a sudden greater pitch of alertness. She cried out deliriously, her hands brushing down over the flesh of her own breasts and stomach, grasping his head to hold him to her gyrating loins. His tongue flicked cautiously along the juicy slit, then suddenly probed deep into the tight warm hole. She cried again, her hips jerking furiously. She lifted her thighs and squeezed them tight around his ears as if she wanted to swallow his whole head into her burning depths. She felt his hands slide beneath her hips, his fingers digging into the vibrant flesh of her buttocks, pulling her loins even more fully against his face.
"Put your finger in my asshole," she wailed desperately, instinct commanding her voice.
At this he also momentarily hesitated, but her continued delirious cries overcame his natural reticence. Suddenly and with no preparation he shoved the middle finger of one of his hands swiftly to the second joint into the tight puckered hole of her anus.
"Aaaagh!" she wailed, her hips contorting from the violent, unexpected agony.
But in his own renewed lust Tod was past considerations of mercy. Relentlessly he shoved the finger onward, deeper until she felt his knuckle mash the cushion of flesh that was the crack between her churning buttocks. In a delayed reflex, she felt her tight rectal walls give way or lubricate, she didn't know which. The pain subsided slightly and mingled with the pleasure of his tongue ravishing her vagina.
Then she felt his penis brush lightly against her leg and she knew it had resumed its full proportion. With a delirious wail she put her hands beneath his arms, jerking him upward. With reluctance he yielded to the pressure. With a last maddening flick his tongue slipped from her spasming pussy, flicked her swollen clitoris, and was gone. Twitching wildly, she tugged him onto her, seizing his hips and guiding him too rapidly down between her thighs, jerking her own hips up in abandon and without course. She felt the giant member just brush the lips of her vagina, then slide downward. Too late, she realized what was happening as the stabbing, unbearable pain caused a shudder to rack her whole body, tears to flood her eyes, an ear-piercing scream to burst in an instant full blown from her lips.
Kicking frantically, she shoved up on his pelvis, at the same time retreating her own hips down into the softness of the mattress. "Wrong hole," she managed to gasp. Her anus had not had time to contract after the sudden removal of his finger and his badly-aimed cock, brushing over the slick lips of her vagina, had picked up enough of the lubricating moisture to allow it to penetrate almost half way into the depths of her tight, sensitive rectum. It had been too sudden and the pain had seemed more than she could bear. But oddly, as the youth hastily withdrew, the rubbery walls had seemed to cling tightly, as if unwilling to relinquish the unwelcome treasure that had penetrated them, and as Katherine felt the pain disappear, she thought she had almost strangely missed it.
But then, as the young seventeen year old thrust again and she felt the smooth rubbery head of his cock slide between her vaginal lips, then slip smoothly along the straight slippery sheath of her cunt, she forgot that. She screamed again in wild abandon, but this time from the sheer pleasure of the rushing she felt begin immediately deep inside her. She threw her arms tightly about the boy, squirming her breasts against him, her hands clawing madly at his back. She sobbed and cried, the tears flooding in torrents from her eyes. She jerked upward violently several quick times in succession, the lips of her cunt working and sucking at the penis that filled them with uncanny dexterity, the velvety vaginal walls spasming madly. Her legs went suddenly limp, and with a fainting moan she dropped her arms from his back. Her heart pounded wildly as she felt the waves of passion flood her body, as she felt herself drifting in the strange, unbelievable whirlwind of the release.
She was only half aware of the feeling of the young adolescent boy's fresh virile cum spewing hotly into her. Out of it, she closed her eyes and let her body relax and float as if on a distant, vaporous breeze. She was still except for the involuntary tremors that drifted like gentle wind gusts through her sweat-filmed nakedness.
CHAPTER NINE
Katherine didn't feel the impact of what she'd done until it was too late when the deed had been committed and she was satiated, her crazed desire gone and her mind clear. It was like waking up the morning after you've made an ass out of yourself at a party and remembering it all with your clear, throbbing, aching head. At least the things she had done before, first with Bill and later with his friends Clyde and Jack, could in part be excused by drinking, or by circumstance, or even by the fact that she had been the object, the one on the receiving and accepting because she had very little choice; the humiliation and degradation that had been heaped upon her, and enjoying it because of the perverted creature, she must be down in her heart. But this was completely different. She'd been stone sober and the act had been premeditated. No circumstances had arisen to put her in a position where it was impossible to refuse. Of her own volition she'd gone looking for it, and what she had found had been innocent and pure and young. And herself always the directing force, she'd carried out the seduction with the lascivious and crazed lust of a jaded whore. As she made the seemingly endless drive back home, Katherine tried in every way she could imagine to rationalize her deed. But it was hopeless. The fact that she'd hardly been aware of its terrible profundity until after her maddening desire was satisfied and she was able to see with a clear head was no excuse and did nothing to ease her anguished conscience. And she couldn't help but wonder what Tod's mother who must feel all the love and protective instincts for him that she had always felt for Tom would think if she knew what her son had been subjected to this afternoon, not by a young nymphet who might not have ever been taught any better, but by a supposedly respectable married woman who was old enough to be his mother and who also until two days ago had always striven to live a pure, Christian life. As Katherine pulled into the drive and got out of the car and started up the walk to the house, she thought that as long as she lived she would never rectify or forgive herself for what had happened today.
Katherine walked through the house without a word to the trio who were watching television in the den. She went straight to the bedroom, undressed and got into a housecoat, then went to bed. In a few moments Paul came in. "What's the matter, honey?" She turned away from him and stared at the wall. "I just feel a little sick."
She heard him walk toward the bed, felt him sit down on the edge of it and put his hand on her shoulder on the outside of the covers.
"Well ... do you want me to call the doctor or something?"
"I went," she said without thinking, still not looking back at him.
"And ... ?"
"I went to Albuquerque. He said I just needed a good rest."
"Katherine?"
She sensed the suspicion in his voice. "Will you just leave me alone!" she snapped. "Just leave me and let me sleep."
She pulled her knees up almost to her breasts, curling into a defensive ball. In a moment he removed his hand from her shoulder, sighed and stood up. She heard his footsteps going away from the bed. The door opened and closed and she was alone. Crying softly, she rolled onto her belly. She spread her arms out beneath the covers, enjoying the friction of the sheet on her breasts which were scarcely protected by the flimsy housecoat. After all she'd done, and now knew she would never do again, she thought she could allow herself that minute consolation.
About ten minutes must have passed before the door opened again. Katherine still lay face down, and she pretended sleep as she heard his footsteps coming back to the bed, felt it give again as he sat down beside her. Silently she waited for the barrage of questions she knew were to come. But instead she felt his hand come to rest lightly on her back, slipping beneath the covers to begin to massage her with a gentle expertise she wouldn't have thought her husband capable of, carefully and tenderly loosening the stiff muscles of her back. An involuntary purr escaped her and she made a soft squirming motion beneath the covers. It felt so good and gentle and now she needed that so badly. Then, when she heard the voice that spoke, her body snapped taut as a wire: "Mrs. Beauchamp, I think I'm the only person in this house who understands what you're going through now."
It was Lys!
"I just want to tell you I understand. And somehow I want you to try to understand me."
She turned over slowly. Gritting her teeth she stared up at the blonde's beautiful, sympathetic face framed by the long golden hair that hung over her breasts almost to her waist. She felt the anger surge like molten lava up in her. She rose, trembling, to a sitting position on the bed, clutching her coat tightly to her half-exposed breasts.
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"
"About what you're going through, and your natural reaction to it. I understand and I want to try to help you."
"HELP ME?"
Her hand lashed out like a whip, swiping hard across the side of the girl's face. When it had passed, she saw crimson prints of her own fingers rush to the girl's cheeks. But she hadn't flinched. And there seemed to be not a sign of hostility in the blue eyes that gazed, through the tears that filled them, calmly back at her.
"YOU ARE THE CAUSE OF IT ALL!" she said. "YOU ARE THE CAUSE OF EVERYTHING I'VE DONE!"
She didn't even hear the girl's still tranquil reply. In a flash she was out from beneath the covers and running, the house coat trailing loosely on her almost naked body, through the door and down the hall, across the patio, into the den where Paul was watching television and no sign of Tom. Without a reply to her husband's astonished gaze she clutched the coat together, her fingers fumbling to tie the sash, and went out of the den and on to the bedroom where she found him reading a magazine.
She stopped in the door and caught her breath. He looked up at her strangely.
"Mom?"
"GET HER OUT!"
"What?"
"GET THAT LITTLE CUNT OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!" she screamed, her body shaking with her anger.
She saw his face redden slowly. He nodded his head, tossing the magazine aside. He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. His eyes bore angrily into Katherine's, then they slowly descended the length of her body that was hardly concealed by the flimsy robe clinging temptingly to her luxurious contours. Then he walked over and picked up the duffel bag he used instead of a suitcase and began tossing a few personal items into it. Katherine watched him dumbly for a moment, unable to believe what she saw.
"I didn't mean you," she said weakly. "Just her."
He didn't look up or answer. He went ahead carefully packing the bag. "Tom?"
She took a step toward him. She was looking at his face and his body. She was remembering him. She was remembering the day she had him. She was remembering the feel, so long ago, of his lips on her breasts as she nursed him. She could hear Paul's voice echoing from the reaches of her mind: "The only sex kicks you get are nursing that goddamn baby." She remembered him struggling with his gleeful face shining as the rest of the team hoisted him to their shoulders and carried him off the field. She remembered the sight of him, in the darkness of this room, as Lys sucked his cock that first night they got back. The images all flooded circularly and at once in her mind. And she knew something now, suddenly clear as bright light: If she let him walk out of the house now she wouldn't see him again for a long time. Maybe not for years. Maybe never.
"Tom! I didn't mean it."
He still didn't look up. She was walking toward him, her hand still clutching the robe, yet loosely so it hardly concealed her swelling breasts, so her slender satiny thighs protruded from it with her steps.
"I didn't mean it. I said that because I love you."
She threw her arms around him, feeling the coat to fall apart down the front. He tried to push her away, then with the realization that came upon him as he felt her naked breasts brush his arm, his body stiffened and he turned his head to stare at her incredulously.
"I didn't mean it," she continued, the words flowing from her mouth without control. "I didn't mean it, I said it because I love you and I don't want you to go or her to go or anything, I just want you to stay here because I love you. Tom. Tom. Tom."
"What are you doing?" he said, trying to push her away.
Her thighs brushed his crotch. She felt it and a shiver went through her body. A soft sob came to her lips. She squirmed her body wildly against him, kissing him madly all over the face. It had to be, she thought.
Insane as it was, it had to be. As if it had been written, long ago. And maybe it had.
"It has to be, Tom. It has to be."
"Mother!"
"I saw your father making love to Lys in the patio the day after you got here."
The words hit him like a bombshell. As she said it, she released him, letting him step back and stare at her with incredulous anger as the words and their meaning seeped into his consciousness. He looked dazed, almost in shock. Scarce surprise even registered in his eyes as she pushed the housecoat off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor behind, leaving her body completely nude and exposed before him. He didn't retreat as she stepped slowly toward him, her breath wrenching hoarsely from her lungs, her breasts swollen and heaving with the strained breathing, her eyes wild and determined with her lust. And as she undid his belt and unzipped his levis and pulled them off his hips, he didn't resist.
She reached inside his jockey shorts, her fingers lightly caressing the hard, erect shaft of his cock which twitched and throbbed at her touch. A sob of delight escaping her, she pulled the shorts off his hips so they fell, after his levis, to his ankles. She gazed down bleary eyed at the hard beautiful shaft of her mature son's virile young cock. Oh God, he was a real man now, she thought as she bent toward it, pushing him down to a reclining position on the side of the bed. Her son was a man now. He was everything that always, subconsciously, she'd ever dreamed he would be. "Mom?"
It was but a faint gasp of protest, and it faded away as he felt her lips touch the throbbing purple head of his penis, forming a circle as her tongue flicked wetly over the gland, then slide slowly down the shaft. Suddenly, his last resistance fading, he jerked his hips violently upwards, thrusting it deeper into her wet sucking mouth, his hands dropping to her shoulders, then moving down to the breasts that so many years ago had nursed him. A soft moan exuded from his throat and he began to rotate his hips sensuously, driving his cock slowly in and out of the exquisite cavern of his mother's mouth.
She could have sucked him forever. She would have loved to suck him until he came, to have swallowed every drop of that seed that was in part her own, to have licked his beautiful hard young cock dry of it, to have held it tenderly in her mouth until it deflated. But the urgency in her own loins was more than she could stand. And she could hear voices, Paul's and Lys', from somewhere else in the house. So one last time she inched her lips down the now slick, palpitating pole, her tongue flicking out into the bristles of hair standing off his youthful sperm-filled testicles. Then she raised her head and slid up his body, climbing on the bed with him and crouching above him, spreading her thighs wide as she seized the bursting, still growing member gently in her hands, bent it to an upright position and fitted the tip up between her open thighs into the already slick wet lips of her cunt.
With a soft wail Katherine dropped her hips abruptly down. It slipped in easily, filling and stretching her eagerly welcoming vaginal sheath until she wanted to scream from the ecstasy of it. She settled her hips on his loins, screwing them around in a slow gentle circle so the cock seemed to ream the hungry burning walls of her vagina.
Tom gave a soft groan, flexing deep inside her. She lowered her face to him and kissed him full on the lips, sucking his tongue deep in her mouth, rotating her hips more wildly as he thrust up, driving viciously to the most inner reaches of her cunt and causing her to wail gleefully. Then suddenly both of them began to toss and thmsh wildly, her son lunging beneath her, Katherine bouncing up and down so that at the peak she almost lifted completely off the giant, skewering instrument, and at the bottom of her descent she was excruciatingly impaled almost to the depths of her widely flowered belly.
The orgasmic fluttering in her loins began almost the instant the smooth rubbery head of his penis first touched the sensitive wet lips of her pussy. It rumbled like thunder deep inside her, a great stirring storm of the sea. Rapidly the ecstasy and longing that filled her surged upward toward its shattering peak. It's Tom, she told herself deliriously. It was Tom, her own beautiful young seventeen year old son, who was fucking her so deeply and wonderfully, Tom whom she'd wanted so long Tom, whom she'd wanted since the day he was born. The sound of the footsteps in the hall did nothing to deter her. She continued to toss and thmsh wantonly upon him, letting her body fall with total hedonistic abandon on his viriley hardened young cock that lunged with equal savagery into her burning loins. When she heard her husband's voice and the incredulous curse that escaped his lips, she didn't alter the frenzy of her tense staccato hunching. She was cumming insanely and her son, she knew, was also past the point of no return. She would have to deal with Paul later, she thought only vaguely as the shudders of ecstasy rippled through her loins, as she felt her vagina spasm, tighten hungrily on Tom's cock, wringing it for everything it could give her.
She lay exhausted on top of him. She thought for a moment she might have even slept. But now she was awake and content, his hands stroking gently over the tender naked skin of her back.
"I don't know what happened," he said. "I'm sorry mother. I know it was my fault."
She kissed him so passionately on the lips that he could not resist, squirming her naked breasts over his chest. Then with a soft, sad sob she lifted her hips up, her tightly locked vaginal walls reluctantly relinquishing the penis it warmly caressed, and rolled off of him.
"No Tom," she said in a voice that must have sounded strange to him. "Everything is all right for the first time in such a long time and it's nobody's fault and there's nothing for anyone to be sorry about." He looked at her strangely. "I just have to go straighten this out with your father and then ... "
"I guess I'll never be able to look him in the eye again either," said Tom. "But damn him, Lys was my girl and he had no business ... " A gentle caress of her hands on his wet, now deflated cock silenced him. "Don't be so up-tight," Katherine said with an oddly mischievous smile. She leaned over and tenderly kissed the tip of his glistening penis, then hopped off the bed and walked, still naked, into the hall.
She found Paul in the bedroom going through some personal papers. On the floor beside the chair she noted his briefcase, which he was apparently filling with the things he would be needing during the next few days. She'd expected as much. He was going to leave too. But she was pretty sure she knew how to stop him and to accomplish that, she'd already resolved she would do whatever was required. She had loved him in a way, without ever having given him a sexually satisfying experience. She had not been completely unhappy with him. But with what she'd learned in the last few days and with the freeing of her own mind from the horrible shackles of false morality that had bound her that had happened the moment she'd made up her mind to go ahead and yield to that ultimate temptation, incest she could hardly even dream of the happiness she'd cheated herself and Paul out of all these years. But she knew there was still time to try to make up for some of it.
Paul looked up with a seething anger. Nothing in his eyes displayed any appreciation or even awareness of his nakedness. Then he resumed shuffling through the papers.
"I didn't know if you'd get finished in time for me to say goodbye to you," he said without looking up.
"I don't want you to go," Katherine said.
He didn't answer. He bent down and dropped another batch of forms into his briefcase, then continued with his task.
"I love you."
"Fuck off," he snapped.
For a moment after that Katherine watched him in silence. A strange thrill of anticipation coursed through her loins. She wanted him now, so very much, as she'd never let herself want him before. She knew that out of her guilt, she'd channeled her natural sexual desire for the man she loved into an incestuous mother-love that was perverted not in itself but in its twisted motive. But she felt no guilt for what had happened with their son. That even now seemed pure and natural, the only logical response to her feelings.
Breathless, Katherine walked to the dresser. She saw him glance nervously up, then pretend to ignore her. She paused, so close to him his elbow almost brushed the thick black hair of her pussy, and slowly sank toward the floor. She reached down to his trousers and opened the zipper halfway before he angrily shoved her away, so hard she almost fell on her back. Breathing heavily now, she regained her balance and made no protest. With a swift deft flick of her finger she finished unzipping the trousers. She felt that though his penis wasn't nearly hard, neither was it quite soft. She took consolation in the fact that already she'd made a start, then met his angry gaze unashamedly, ready for whatever his response might be. For a moment she thought he was going to hit her, and she waited willingly even for that. Then again he tried to pretend to ignore her and returned his attention to the papers. Sucking in a sharp breath, Katherine reached to his crotch again, slipped two fingers in and changed the direction of his now rapidly hardening penis so it pointed up out of his fly. She felt him shift uncomfortably and again he glared at her, the anger not tempered by his astonishment. In spite of everything he tried to do to stop it, his penis was rising. And she could see in his eyes that now he was aware with grudging appreciation of her nakedness. She leaned forward and took it in her mouth, twirling her tongue sensuously around it, trying to call to fore in a moment everything she'd learned in the last three mad days. Instantly his cock swelled in her mouth to its full size and she popped her lips off of it and looked up with an expression of unreserved surrender.
"I'll do anything you want, Paul. Anything you want."
She saw the struggle mirrored in his face: anger and desire, love and hate in a relentless, life and death battle. His teeth gritted and his eyes flared and she waited, naked, on her knees. After what seemed a terribly long time, a vicious looking grin twisted his lips.
"All right. You asked for it."
He stood up, brushing past her, and walked over to the bed. He paused beside it and began taking off his clothes. Katherine rose and walked after him, her heart pounding so hard she thought it would burst, her breath sharp and heavy.
"Get up there," he said, pointing at the bed. "On your knees."
Beset by a vaguely frightening premonition, she complied. Out of the comer of her eye she watched him finish undressing. In his eyes was a look she'd never seen before, and she wondered anxiously what terrible thing he might be capable of doing to her to appease his wrath.
"Now, kneel up, with your incestuous little ass in the air," he commanded when he'd removed his trousers.
For a moment she hesitated. Then she felt his hand on her hips, jerking them to the kneeling position he desired: her buttocks high in the air, her face and torso and swollen breasts resting on the bed, thighs wide apart to expose her cunt and anus. She felt the bed give slightly as he climbed up behind her; then his hands slid into the crack between her buttocks, probing at the tight sore hole of her anus, and with a sudden sickening fear she remembered the terrible pain when that young boy in the deserted house had inadvertently violated for but a moment that terrible tightness, and she understood what he had on his mind.
Katherine bit her lip to muffle the cry of protest that welled in her throat. Anything but that, she thought. My god, she'd never be able to stand it! But somehow, even as she felt his hands grasp harshly at her hips, holding them steady in the air as he leaned forward to fit his giant palpitating shaft in the softly yielding crevice of her nakedly upraised buttocks, she held back her protest. She'd said she would do anything. She was going to stick by her promise.
Katherine gasped from the first contact. It felt huge, much larger than she'd ever thought it before of the relativity to her closed, unlubricated rectal hole. She could never take it. Tears filled her eyes as she felt him probe forward, pushing against the tightly contracted little circle, and she started to retreat. Then he seized her hips and tugged her backwards.
"Relax," he said. "Open it up."
She wanted to scream and plead for mercy. She wanted to kiss his feet, suck his cock until it was dry and soft and harmless. She wanted to tell him that when she'd said she would do anything, she'd meant "anything but this". But somehow she conquered her fear. With a soft urgent sob she sank her hips back, opening her anal passage as she felt his thumbs press outward on either side of it and peel it apart. Then he thrust forward mercilessly.
"Aaaaaagh! Aaaaaaaaagh!" she screamed.
She squirmed her naked breasts on the bedsheets, tossing her head from side to side as she felt the tight resisting nether ring giving way before the unyielding pressure, the tip of his penis popping up inside with a jerk.
She screamed again, then groaned deeply as the blunt intrusion of his cock vibrated through every fiber of her being, pushing the soft rubbery flesh inside her wide-stretched anal passage in great waves of pain before it. She moaned in submission, her eyes closing tightly in torment, shudders racking her body. At last she felt the coarse hair of his loins smack heavily against the softness of her nakedly exposed buttocks. The cruel fleshy thickness was buried to the hilt.
Without reservation, she began to cry, the sobs racking her body, the tears flooding from her eyes and wetting her cheeks and the pillow beneath them. She gritted her teeth and shoved her buttocks back against his, straining against the pain and he began to saw rhythmically back and forth deep in the soft depths of her back passage, gradually increasing the length of his strokes until the whole of his hugely-rounded rod was fucking deeply in and out of her.
But as he increased the vicious thrusting, he seemed to try to temper the pain with caresses of his hands that became almost gentle. At first they'd viciously held her pelvis in the humiliating position. Now they began to rove softly over her buttocks and down her thighs, juxtaposing the bitter torment of her rectum with soft tingles of desire that coursed out from his touch. Shivering, Katherine began to squirm her hips, increasing the sensation that, though still painful, was becoming more bearable.
Then a sharp cry of agony escaped her as he leaned forward so that his cock was even more bent down by its confinement in her rectum, even more, greatly increasing the excruciating friction. In response to her cry he automatically withdrew slightly. Another sob escaped her, but different now. She felt a lump in her throat and when she spoke it was with a low grunting voice: "D-do you, oooh, l-love me, d-darling?"
He froze behind her. For a moment there was complete silence save for both their breathing. His hands on her were still. The only movement was the throbbing of his cock inside her. Then he sighed deeply.
"Yes. I still love you."
He said it stiffly, grudgingly, but she knew he meant it anyway and right now that was all that mattered. She rocked her buttocks back hard against his loins, again taking the full length of the shaft in her throbbing, stretched rectum.
"Then fuck me hard," she gasped. "Fuck me as hard as you want to, as hard as you can and make me pay for all I've done."
For an instant longer he was motionless except for the painful twitching of his penis in her rectum. Then with a vicious lunge he unleashed the fury of his anger and lust, smacking her buttocks loudly with his loins, racking her body with the impact, the enormous instrument driving brutally into the tight, burning orifice.
But even as he'd resumed the lunging, the pain in her anus had been tempered by the feel of his hand sliding down her pubis, brushing lightly over her clitoris before one of his fingers plunged swiftly into her yearning vagina. Gradually, the pain seemed to fade. Or perhaps she learned to stand it. Or perhaps it was just the juxtaposition of the pleasure of his hand in her vagina and the knowledge that from now on life would be different and oh so much better that prompted Katherine to begin her own frantic squirming and lunging, wailing softly and deliriously as she used her own body to fuck back and compliment everything her husband did to her.
CHAPTER TEN
"You all right?" Paul asked her almost sheepishly.
She sobbed softly, rubbing her naked breasts against his chest. "Yes. I didn't know ... I could ... make it like that." She managed a laugh. "Yes. I feel wonderful. But will you do something a little more orthodox in a few minutes."
"Yeah." Then a thoughtful frown crossed his face. "But first I've got something else to take care of."
Abruptly he slid off the bed and stepped into his trousers. Katherine watched him through her glistening eyes, feeling the love well up inside her. How he could still love her after everything they'd been through, she didn't know. But again she vowed she would have to make it up to him. As he walked shirtless out of the room, she realized there was someone else to whom she had to make up quite a lot. She'd been an unimaginal bitch to Lys ever since the girl got here. That didn't half describe it.
Katherine slithered hurriedly out of the bed, went to the closet and pulled out the first dress she could find, a loose-fitting cotton sheath, and donned it quickly. Then she started after Paul, across the patio.
She got to the den just as it happened.
It was without warning at all. There was no time for Lys or Tom to have ever imagined what Paul was going to do. They'd just both watched him enter, Lys smiling in her usually seductive manner, Tom looking half-guilty, half-irritated. And as he'd approached the couch Tom had stood, and Paul had thrown the clean hard right so fast Katherine hardly even realized it until Tom was on the floor on his back behind the couch.
Lys gave a little gasp and Katherine screamed and ran toward her son, but before she got to him something in his eyes stopped her. Sobbing, she held herself back and watched Tom climb to his feet. He walked calmly around the couch, rubbing the inside of his mouth with his finger as if to see that all his teeth were still intact. Then with a sudden, smooth leap he traversed the distance between himself and his father, feinted with a left and threw a right of his own, and Katherine screamed again as Paul Beauchamp landed on the carpet. Tom stood over him like a heavyweight waiting to see if his opponent would beat the ten count. Paul sat up, watching his son warily and rubbing his own jaw. Then cautiously he got to his own feet. For a moment, Katherine was afraid Paul was going after Tom again. But instead, he turned and walked over to the bar. He brought out two cold beers and opened them. During the next few seconds, a falling pin would have sounded like a crashing building. Then Tom grinned and Paul grinned back at him and walked halfway to meet him with the two beers. Out of the corner of her eye Katherine watched Lys stand up and began sensuously to remove her clothes.
Katherine waited until the blonde was down to only her transparent bikini panties, then in a swift movement peeled her own dress over her head. Then Lys shimmied out of her panties.
The two women looked at each other silently for a moment, then as if by mutual agreement, turned and walked toward the waiting, eager-eyed men.
