If Charles Dickens were alive today and residing in the Midwest, he undoubtedly would have come up with a character like our Cassie in The Peeping Lens. Cassie is a poor waif-a nubile, sexy, enchanting, and not very bright woman-child who goes through life not truly comprehending the difference between good and bad, allowing herself to be led by others.
Although half a hundred people plunder her body's riches, she remains innocent and trusting to the end. Cassie undeniably is the victim, yet it is she who is ultimately disgraced, arrested, imprisoned! And not even then does she realize what she has done wrong.
Leroy Biscayne, a promising young San Francisco writer, has written what we feel to be one of the most movingly powerful novels of the year. It sparkles with humor; its dialogue is so real that one can almost smell the dust blowing across the Oklahoma plains at the beginning of the story.
Cassie, who runs away from a cruel, insensitive father and a hot, cramped trailer home, dreams of becoming a famous Hollywood actress. Like all innocents everywhere, she becomes a victim once she ventures into the jungle of modern society. Hitchhiking, she falls an immediate prey to a truck driver even more brutal than her father; she is raped and thrown from the cab. Her second ride is with Jerry, a pornographic motion picture producer. He is kind to her, sensing there are possibilties in this woman-child; it is the first act of kindness ever shown to her, and she is thus thrown off guard. Before Cassie knows what is happening, she has become an unwilling actress in a pornographic movie. Her slide into the depths of depravity is accelerated from this moment on. She achieves the fame she always wanted-her name is emblazoned in lights ten feet high-but it is a fame tainted with despair and uneasiness.
When Cassie shows signs of rebelling against the degrading use of her body, Jerry fraudulently offers to marry her. The wedding scene is one of the most incredible ever printed. Not since the Mar quis de Sade's Justine, ou les Malheurs de la vertu has such licentious and irreverent behavior been recorded.
Biscayne has written not only a penetrating and unforgettable character study of a young girl, but also an expose of San Francisco's thriving pornographic motion picture industry. Heinie and Jerry are two of the most likable (and despicable) villains we have met in a long while. It is quite possible that they, like poor Cassie, have no real comprehension of doing wrong. We feel it necessary to point out that Mr. Biscayne has assured us that the characters in this novel are purely fictional and any similarity to pornographic motion picture producers in San Francisco (or elsewhere) is purely coincidental.
The closing pages of this book are heartrending. Cassie, who has been beaten and cheated and whipped all of her life, offers advice to parents who have girls. "I didn't have enough discipline," she weeps. "My father should have whipped me more. Parents everywhere should remember that you can't spare the rod, or you will spoil your child."
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
The battered Ford pickup rolled to a silent stop beside the trailer parked on the outskirts of town. Old Ned picked up the bag of groceries from the seat beside him and shuffled through the powdery dirt to the door, squinting in the afternoon sun as he paused to peer through the window. Cassie was sitting just as she had been when he left, wearing her bathrobe, her feet propped up on the kitchen table, her hair in pincurlers and reading a movie magazine. He spat, the spit immediately balling up on contact with the dust, and went inside.
"Anything happen while I was out?" he asked.
She seemed not to have heard him, her eyes darting to the end of the line she was reading as she popped a bubble in her gum before looking up at him and saying, "No, Daddy."
"Answer me when I speak to you, girl!"
"Yes, Daddy," she said, her eyes nervous as she glanced up at him. Old Ned was sixty-seven, but he still had a commanding voice and an uncertain temper.
"Put the grub away," he said.
"As soon as I finish this story," she said. "It's about that actor we saw-"
"I don't care what it's about. Do it now!"
"Yes, Daddy," she said, jumping up and taking the grocery bag from his arms.
Willful child, Ned thought, as he went into the bathroom. All she'd done since he'd taken her out of school two years ago was sit on her fanny and read motion picture magazines. And she didn't read them just once, she seemed to read them over and over. Every Wednesday he drove her over to Fort Sill and took her to a motion picture show. Afterwards, they went to the drugstore where he allowed her to pick out TV news magazines. She always chose movie magazines. These concessions he made to her only because it kept her out of mischief. It gave her something to do.
It was better this way than the other, he reminded himself.
He'd gotten a glimpse of the "other" right after the girl's mother had died, when the girl had been eleven and suddenly sprouted. On her skinny child's frame developing nipples had become, in a scant year and a half, honest-to-god woman's breasts. And while she hadn't added an inch to her waist, her hips and buttocks had filled out something fierce.
Old Ned didn't have much of an eye for what was happening to her, not at first-but everyone else did, and that was what brought it to his attention, what made him focus his mind on it. Boys wouldn't leave her alone. Boys her own age had been knocked aside, supplanted by high school kids from clear across town, kids who leered and had pimples. And then there'd been the sailor home on leave.
Old Ned had awakened one night hearing scratching sounds, and had looked out the window to see the man in his sailor suit, rubbing the window screen with a stick. Ned noiselessly fetched his shotgun from under the bed and loaded it with sixteen-gauge birdshot. The unlucky sailor took off at a run when Ned opened the door, but didn't get out of range before Ned emptied a barrel of shot into his ass. His yelps were heard for a mile.
The blast woke up Cassie, as well as most of the neighborhood. Ned strode into her room, holding the smoking shotgun in one hand and a wide leather belt with his other, his cowering daughter's fate at that moment foreordained.
"All right. Who was he?" he asked.
"Who?" asked the trembling girl.
"Your sailor boy."
"What sailor boy?"
"Your sailor boy trying to wake you up."
"I don't know no sailor boy."
"What did he want to wake you up for?"
"I don't know! I don't know any sailor!"
"You don't know, eh? Well, he must have known. He must have heard it was pretty good stuff."
"What stuff?" she asked, exasperated, knowing full well that it was always a mistake to let this tone creep into her voice when it was her Daddy she was talking to.
"Whatever it is you been passing out," he said, voice full of disgust, "Now turn over. I'm going to give you a licking you won't forget."
Eyes full of fright, she did. He'd made her say, "I'll never let a boy touch me!" over and over, and hadn't stopped beating her until she sounded pretty damn sincere.
She hadn't forgotten, either. If she neglected her chores or complained that she wanted to go out or didn't jump when he said "jump," all he had to do was shake his belt and she was docile as a kitten.
Ned hadn't taken any chances, though. He knew women. He had retired that spring, having turned sixty-five, and as soon as she finished up eighth grade and graduated from grammar school, he'd sold the house and moved twenty miles out of Fort Sill to the trailer half a mile from anywhere. "Anywhere" being the gas station, general store, feed store, and cluster of houses known as Springtown. The only time Cassie left the trailer was Wednesday night when he went with her to the picture show.
Now Ned poked his head out of the bathroom and saw Cassie standing in front of the refrigerator with the door hanging open, looking at a bunch of carrots. That's all, standing still and looking at them like she didn't know what they were.
"They're carrots," he called.
"What?"
"What you got in your hand."
"Oh," she said, looking at them as if seeing them for the first time, "I know that."
"Then put 'em away and get a move on."
"Yes, Daddy."
Cassie quickly put the hamburger and milk away and the bread in the breadbox, her flimsy housecoat swishing as she moved. Old Ned wished she would dress regular, but she told him her clothes were too small, excepting her special dress she wore Wednesday nights. Ned allowed as how maybe they were too small now, the way she wouldn't stop filling out. So she wore her housecoat most the time. As he sat down to read the newspaper, Ned guessed he was going to have to get a new Sears Roebuck catalogue and order her some.
Cassie took her small standup mirror from the dresser and set it in front of her on the table, sitting on the edge of the couch as she began to take the pincurlers out of her hair. She put curls in her hair twice a week, and this in itself aroused the demon in Old Ned's soul. It made him figure she expected somebody to come a-calling on her. Well, if anyone did, there was a surprise in store.
Cassie stuck the tip of each bobby pin into her mouth when she removed it and dropped the wire curler into her lap. Her lips puckered around the pins as she filled her mouth with them, and she spread her knees to make more lap space as she had to accommodate more and more curlers. As she dropped the last curler into her lap, she shook her head, picked up her hairbrush, and bent forward slightly to look into the mirror.
At that moment Ned lowered his newspaper in order to turn the page, and his mouth fell open. Why, there his daughter was, her knees spread and exposing herself to him most shamelessly. "Why ... why ... why," he sputtered, waggling his forefinger at her, madder than hell that, careful as he'd been, his daughter could carry on like a whore. She paid him no mind; she had begun to brush out her hair.
"You're showing me your cunt!" he screamed, the veins in his neck standing out as they sent blood roaring to his brain.
Cassie looked up in fright. Taken by surprise, she hadn't heard what he said, but knew something must be bad wrong. She saw him pointing and couldn't see what he was pointing at, but guessed he must want something off the floor. Accordingly, she grabbed the hem of her housecoat, lifting it and her lapful of curlers with both hands, holding them tightly against her tummy. She couldn't see what was being pointed at and spread her already-spread legs way wide to get a better look at the floor.
Old Ned was seeing all too well, though, be cause the sparse strands of blond hair in the hollows between her legs did nothing to hide the wrinkled rubied lips of her cunt. Her outer lips were pulled tight, and what Ned pointed at were the pouting lips of her inner cunt, which were glistening now in the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window.
Cassie didn't know what had gotten into her father. He had stood up now, still pointing madly, and was yelling something in her ear. It sounded like, "Cunt! Cunt! Your cunt! Your cunt!"
She didn't know what he was hollering about and was frightened half to death, knowing that if he didn't choke first he was going to hit her any minute now. Desperate, and wanting him to get whatever he was after and shut up, she braced herself with one hand and lifted her feet high off the floor. This made her cunt lips pout even more-the slit between them widening and her clitoris peeping out-and had the further effect of drawing apart her ample white buttocks, revealing to her father her little anus, puckered and hairless.
"Your cunt! Your cunt! You're showing me your cunt!" he screamed, red in the face, about to swallow his tongue.
"Where? Where?" she cried, on the verge of tears and so scared she thought she might pee.
"Right there, stupid!" he yelled, catching his breath. "Right there between your legs where it always is!" And he stooped to point better, his yellowed fingernail stopping not an inch short of her clitoris.
It finally dawned on the child that he was pointing at her, that she had provoked him into a fit and caused his eyes to fill with hate. Breaking into tears, unmindful of her curlers falling to the floor, she jumped up and ran into the bathroom, where she sobbed for a good ten minutes.
She didn't emerge from the bathroom until she had composed herself and washed her face with cold water. All at once she knew she hated this mean old man who was supposed to be her father but who made her life one continual torment. Why, he hadn't said one kind word to her and hadn't held her on his lap or hugged her for as long as she could remember. She wondered if he ever had. He'd been nice to her sometimes when she was young, and she had liked him okay then. But ever since her mother died he'd gotten meaner and meaner. Why, she'd do anything, she'd give up anything-even the movies!-if only he'd change and be nice sometimes.
Neither of them spoke all through dinner. Cassie didn't have anything to say to this old man. She prepared dinner and went through the motions of eating without thinking about him, her mind on some far-off dream, a hazy yet vivid place she'd find someday, as soon as her real life began. Old Ned ate without comment and saw nothing new to scold her for. To tell the truth, he was sorry he'd yelled like that, since the girl hadn't known what she was doing ... but still, no daughter of his was going to act like a whore, and she'd better find that out for herself damn quick. He saw nothing to apologize for.
Shortly after she finished the dishes, he got up to go to bed. The sun was just disappearing down into the heart of the dustbowl, the Oklahoma plains. "Don't stay up too late now," he said, going into the trailer's one bedroom and shutting the door.
Cassie knew he'd remain awake until she'd lowered the couch to make up her bed and turned out the light. She hated to go to bed so early. The summer days weren't bearable until the sun had gone down and she could take a shower. The thought of cool water sent her scurrying into the bathroom. A moment later she was standing under the stream. She hummed a toneless tune.
After her shower, she toweled dry and stood for a moment, still humming, in front of the mirror before putting on her nightie. She wondered if her body was nice. When she looked at herself in the mirror over the sink, her eyes always went first to her nipples, which were pinkish-red until she touched them, when they stiffened and became crimson, as if blushing because it felt so nice. Her breasts had no sag at all, yet sloped downward. She liked to put her hands under them and lift slightly to feel their weight. If she tried to squeeze her hand around them, her thumb and middle finger would almost touch before it hurt her. And if she held a thumb-tip on her rib cage, she could almost reach her nipple with the tip of her forefinger. Pointing out like they did, and being so wobbly, they always made her feel vulnerable. She wondered if a man might think they were beautiful someday and be nice to her.
Wide awake, breathing quietly and touching her nipples until they were so swollen that they had begun to ache, she lay in bed half an hour before she heard the old man's snoring, and no sooner than his first wheezing snorts filled the trailer did one of her hands creep between her legs, as if it had been waiting for a signal. Her fingertips traced the folds of skin and her middle finger strayed into the slit. She thought it was funny how, after she'd played with her nipples, she became wet and puffy down there. She ran her finger up and down the slick slit. It felt good, and she was especially conscious of the ball of her knuckle brushing the puffy ridge with its sensitive little button. A tingling warmth spread through her, and it had nothing to do with the Oklahoma heat. She sighed.
Her eyes had adjusted to the night and there was an early moon. Moving silently, she crept to the dresser for her mirror, and lay back down where the moonlight streamed in brightest. She pulled her nightie up about her waist and propped the mirror up between her thighs, seeing in the oval her shadowy fur-lined crack running from front to back, widening with the folds of skin in front. She spread her legs and watched her gleaming inner lips become more prominent. Now the point of the clitoris became visible as her legs spread to their utmost with one foot touching the wall, the other clear off the bed and resting on a chair. A forefinger on either side of the cleft, she stretched the skin in opposite directions. The puffy inner lips were now in a ring from where they joined at her button to where they rejoined just above her anus. There were so many wrinkles and folds that she could never tell where the hole was until she felt it with her finger. Her finger somehow knew just where to go, possibly guided by her slick juices and the heat at her center.
Her father had pointed here when he said "cunt." She guessed that was what it must be called. Her cunt! She repeated the word silently. Cassie thought it ought to have a fancier name, rising out of the hollow between her legs as it did, with downy yellow fluff all around it and being so red and soft and creamy in the middle. Why, when she buried a finger in it, she could feel the tingle clear out to the tips of her toes.
Her eyelids fluttered shut and her breath left her as she poked one finger in-all the way to the second joint in one lunge. She then relaxed for a moment, getting used to the feel of it inside her before pushing it in to the hilt and wiggling it around, surprised as always at how slick and ripply the little ridges were and beginning to tingle all over. It suddenly occurred to her, considering how her father had acted, that this must be sinful. Could it be a sin to play with your own cunt? the girl asked herself with trepidation.
But fear of sin passed from consciousness as she concentrated on the hunger at the other end of her body where her little cunt-mouth now gobbled at two fingers which pumped anxiously in and out. Cassie began to feel weak in the pit of her stomach. She moved her pelvis up and down without thinking about it-jerking up to meet the fingers, then relaxing. Tense, untense.
Without stopping, she began to grope with her free hand beneath the pillow. When she didn't immediately find what she sought, she lifted her head and knocked the pillow aside in her search. When her groping hand remained empty, she withdrew her pumping fingers and sat up.
What she looked for in vain was a carrot which she'd scrubbed and put under her pillow to warm it up. She needn't have been frightened that her father had found it, because it had fallen to the floor earlier while she squirmed trying to see into the core of her cunt in the mirror. She had first tried a carrot about two weeks before, when she wanted among other things to find out how deep her hole was. She had inadvertently broken something and had bled. It had scared her more than it hurt her, though, and whatever it was that broke was broken now and today she had dared to pick out a thicker one. After her first moments of sinful guilt, her intuition told her that if her father had found her carrot he would most likely think only that she was hungry. She stood up to go get another when she spotted it on the floor, looking yellow-orange in the moonlight.
Cassie lay back down, folded her pillow double, and placed it under her hips. She drew her knees back until they were within inches of the bed on either side of her shoulders.
She could almost see into her cleft. Tentatively, she began massaging her buttocks, marveling at the soft, cool smoothness of her skin; then both hands found their way to her cunt. Her fingers strummed, all drawn one after another, through the slick rubbery flesh of her slit; each fingertip brushed against her clitoris, making her quiver all over. Using the fingers of one hand, she spread the moisture around, wanting to saturate and soften the entire area with it. The pleasure her fingers were bringing her caused the tip of her little pink tongue to creep obscenely out of the corner of her mouth. She dug one finger into the hot flesh of her cunt-mouth as far as it would go-and while she couldn't reach the end of her vaginal tunnel, in this position she could really feel the delightfully wicked sensations. After several moments of sensuously exploring, she discovered a hard little knob deep in the heart of her cunt. She had no way of knowing this was her cervix, all she knew was it felt good to brush it.
Almost frantically now, she picked up the carrot, and quickly pinched off its thin little point and root with her thumbnail. Gingerly, cautiously, remembering the blood the last time, she inserted it and gasped audibly as its hard tip entered her slippery throbbing passage. "Oh ... ohh ... ooohh...." she breathed. The insertion was made no more than an inch at a time; she gasped with each further probing of her channel, each widening of its hungry mouth as it sought to devour the thick eight-inch carrot. If her father were awake, he would have heard nine or ten distinct gasps breaking into the night. This was the most daring thing Cassie had yet done; the sensations rolled over her like a warm billowing cloud. This felt so good, it just had to be wicked. Her heart had begun beating so fast that she thought she was about to faint.
With trembling hands, she pulled the carrot out and then thrust it back in again with such force that she would have screeched in ecstasy from its wonderful hardness and thickness. She continued her motions-parting with it unwillingly and then, as if its absence were more painful than its presence, jamming it home again. As warmth built up in her body, perspiration gathered on her brow and her nightie soon became soaked.
Had someone peered in the window behind her, they would have seen the violently quartered halves of her, ghost white with a touch of yellow in the moonlight. They would have seen her stab at the center of herself with both hands, the carrot glistening from her body's natural liquid each time she withdrew it, and her legs jerk at the knees each time she rammed it home into her depths, as if she plumbed clear to her spine.
And this stranger, whoever would be wandering the Oklahoma prairie at night, might have felt lucky to be able to witness such a rare animal sight. He might have tried to enter the trailer and replace her homey instrument with a more proper tool. Cassie would have instinctively welcomed him. Cassie, in whose body heat and sensation had now accumulated until they became almost screamingly unendurable, began to whip her head from side to side.
Low moans bubbled out of her lust-constricted throat as she held the carrot deep inside her suddenly erupting cunt. She jerked the thick vegetable from side to side with one hand as her hips bucked up at it and her legs twitched. Her other hand played with the fevered clitoris which jumped like a speared worm. Then, moaning softly in exhaustion and relief, she lay still-breathing giant gasps of air into her tortured lungs.
After a long still moment, Cassie shoved the pillow onto the floor and her legs flopped back onto the couch. Suddenly aware that her nightie was drenched and was sticking uncomfortably to her, she pulled it loose from her breasts and armpits to let it dry for a moment. The cool night air on her skin created a delicious sensation. She felt pleased with herself. Totally spent, she hadn't been this relaxed in several days. Her mind was numb and groggy, ready for sleep. She lay in silence for a moment, listening to the crickets beat out their woeful message on the hot Oklahoma night, feeling lonely-still wanting something, not sure what. A body beside her, perhaps. A kiss-like in the movies.
In the other room, Old Ned stirred. He thought he heard a stranger's boots tromping away from the trailer. Every so often the old man's sleep was troubled by sounds-like a wounded coyote or something-that he could never remember well enough in the morning to identify properly. Now, in his mind, he heard the same sounds and, having turned in a bit too early, was not sleeping as soundly as usual. His eyes popped open. He realized that his throat was dry. Groaning, he climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom, where he stood by the sink for a moment, scratching his ass hole through his undershorts, wondering if he wanted warm tap water plain out of the faucet or if he was thirsty enough to bother with an ice cube. "Sure would be nice to have some nice cold ice water," he mumbled, then moved into the front room.
Cassie lay in a semi-swoon, her arms thrown to the side, her drenched nightie bunched up about her waist, her legs at a relaxed spread, and knees slightly raised. Her cunt lips were still blood-filled, and even in the semi-darkness they shone all crimson as they ringed the carrot; only the green toppart of which was showing. It looked as if she had a patch of green pubic hair between her legs. Her blond triangle itself was fluffy, but the hairs between her legs were stuck together and matted down with her own cum juice. All this Old Ned took in at a glance when he entered the room. Without removing his disbelieving eyes, he groped for the light switch behind him.
The sudden flood of light was almost painful to Cassie, but not as painful as the sight of her father standing at the foot of the bed, staring for the second time today at that area between her legs. Her muscles twitched as she remembered the damning evidence, and her stomach muscles involuntarily clenched, causing the carrot to begin sliding out of her vaginal cavity. Faster, faster it slid-shining with her cum-until with a slight plopping noise it shot from her cunt and lay there like a disembodied orange prick on the sheet between her legs. Cassie went weak with fear and shame. She was afraid to think. She dared not breathe.
After a long, endless minute with the only sound being the grinding of Old Ned's teeth, he said in an icy voice, "Okay, whore, you turn over flat on your belly, and then you lie real still."
He went into his bedroom.
A voice in Cassie's mind screamed for her to run, for at this moment she realized that it would be impossible to stay any longer under this roof after what she had done-that her life was going to be unbearable and she had no choice but to run-but at the same time a calm voice of reason whispered, "No, not now. Take your whipping. You need clothes and money."
Taking a breath of air for the first time since the light went on, and having broken into a cold sweat, Cassie did exactly what she was told to do; she flopped onto her belly. Then, for some reason, as if for reassurance, she tucked her nightie tightly about her waist and folded her hands behind her neck. She took a last look at the near wall and shut her eyes, her body paralyzed.
Ned fished for his pants at the foot of his bed and grabbed his belt, thinking, Whore! After all I've tried to do she's still got the nature of a whore. I've got to learn her ... I've got to learn her to deny her whore's nature. This may be the last chance God will give me to do my duty. I better do it real good.
A man grimly intent, he pulled the belt out of its loops and folded it double, holding it in one hand as he went into the bathroom for a long warm drink from the faucet. Then he went back into the front room.
The masses of Cassie's pale white buttocks seemed spread out as she lay flat with her knees tight together. "Whore," he shouted. The first lash, well aimed and with great force, raked both quivering globes just above where they joined her thighs. Cassie screamed in agony, then continued screaming as the lash began taking bites out of her flesh-hitting from waist to the backs of her knees. Her legs jerked and danced from the spine with each horrible bite of the wide leather belt. She writhed from side to side, clenching her buttocks and rubbing her thighs together in agony.
Aware that his blows were not always falling where intended, Ned pinioned her, placing one hand in the small of her back and putting his weight on it, gasping for breath, sweat running down his neck as he flailed. Held down, her mouth open in a continuous wail, Cassie involuntarily arched her back, bringing her pubic region into the air. As her knees slid apart on the mattress, the carrot once again came into view.
Seeing it, Ned, stopped in mid-stroke as he lifted his arm. The shock stunned him only momentarily before it goaded his nearly spent hatred and fury. In blind vengeance, he lashed out at it. He was so mad that he couldn't see straight; the lash fell weakly on the insides of her upper thighs and in the cleft between her legs.
The agony of the belt hitting her sensitive cuntal lips almost made Cassie faint. The pain was so excruciating that she couldn't even scream. Now Old Ned was tottering as the last of his strength left him. In the fifteen weak seconds remaining to him before he collapsed, in the one long cleareyed instant left to him before his overexertion caught up with him, he managed to place a dozen well-aimed blows at his daughter's area of wickedness and evil. The lash struck Cassie time and time again on that region still dripping with lacteous cuntal fluid, and the silver-tipped end of the leather brought blood gushing to the surface. Cassie screamed once, then pitched forward unconscious.
It took Ned almost an hour to catch his breath and to regain enough energy to get out of the chair he had stumbled into, and by this time Cassie had regained consciousness and was sobbing and moaning, with huge shudders wracking her body as the waves of pain flowed over her.
Ned felt bad about it, sure. Sometimes a man has to do his duty, though, even if it makes him feel bad. This is what he thought in his nearly passed-out state, as his mind reeled. When he stood and saw the blood seeping from her legs and buttocks, he couldn't help admitting that he had hurt her awful bad, and was once again thankful they didn't have any nosy neighbors. As he listened to her sobs, he began to think that maybe he had gone overboard. After all, he did hit her there; no man hit his daughter there, no matter what she had done. Some might want to call it child abuse. Men had probably been put away in the state penitentiary for lesser crimes. By the time he managed to lurch out of the chair, guilt budding deep in his soul, he had begun to fear that maybe he had done permanent damage to her.
He stumbled over to the couch, peered down at her reddened eyes, tear-stained face and disheveled hair, and wondered what he should do. He stroked her cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry," but she refused to look at him.
He moved to the other end of the couch to inspect the damage, his eyes roving over the crisscrossing red stripes. She had huge bloody welts from the back of her knees to her waist; in areas it looked as if someone had taken a dull knife to her. Ned shook his head sadly, and went to the bathroom. He pissed first, then went to the medicine cabinet. When he came back into the front room, he was carrying a large can of salve the family had had for ten years: Doctor McGee's Cure-all Ointment, Good for Cuts, Nicks, Bruises, Running Sores, and Festers. He set to, rubbing it lightly over the entire area he'd scored with his belt. When he came to her widespread crevice, he peered closely for a passionless moment, detecting no blood on the cunt-oh, she was red there, all right, but from what he knew, they was always red right there-and he suddenly saw that the Almighty had seen to it that his anger was so righteously strong at that moment that it had sapped his strength. He daubed a piece of cotton into the salve and rubbed it up and down in her crease as Cassie sought to push her tortured body into the couch, as if she couldn't stand to be touched, and certainly not by him.
Ned dropped the cotton wad to the floor and buried his face in his hand for a moment before placing his hand on the shoulder of his still-sobbing daughter and forced himself to say, "I'm sorry, girl. Right sorry. I'll never do you that way again," knowing in the pit of his stomach that he might be losing his hold on her. His hand lay on her shoulder for several more minutes before he gave her a final squeeze and went to bed.
Cassie lay like that throughout the night and all the next day, her bare sore hindquarters a sorry reminder to Ned whenever he forgot and looked in that corner of the room. In the hottest part of the afternoon, she rose briefly to her knees, pulled her soiled nightie off over her head and dropped it to the floor, her breasts flopping as she lay back down. She refused all offers of food and drink, except for a glass of orange juice when she woke up at noon and a bowl of chicken noodle soup at nightfall. When he brought her the soup, she turned over on her side, and propped up on an elbow to spoon it from the bowl, first scratching her breasts where they suddenly itched from having been lain on so long.
She knew she tortured her father. She knew that for some inexplicable reason he hated the sight if not the very existence of her pure young body. But she knew a couple of days would go by before he dared to say anything-her intuition told her. And a bit longer would go by before he yelled at her.
The next day she could move without hurting. The redness had left her; only the welts remained. She awoke early and washed herself thoroughly in the shower, then changed her bed and climbed back in, pulling a fresh sheet over herself.
About noon, her father said, "Why don't you get up and get dressed, hon. If you feel up to it, we can go to the picture show tonight." It was Wednesday.
"No, Daddy," she said. "I don't want to go tonight. I don't think I could bear to sit down that long."
"Whatever you say."
"There's something you could do for me, though, if you've a mind to."
"What's that, child?" he asked, "You could go over to Fort Sill this afternoon and buy me a new dress."
"Oh," he said, considering it for a moment. "What sort of dress do you fancy?"
"I don't care," she said. "A summer dress. Nothing too fancy."
"Sure," he said. "I guess I'll mosey along then."
She told him size eight, and as soon as he left she began to make plans. She dared to think aloud about the plans that had been running through her head since he said "Okay, girl, you turn over flat on your belly...."
Only after the moon had risen high that night and her father's snorts had filled the trailer a good long time did she rise from bed like a ghost and put on her new dress. It was pale green with a high bodice and pleated skirt and fit her real nice.
She knew she could stay around for a while, and now that she had a small hold over her father life would be better. But she knew it would not last, was bound not to. The first time she dared look at a boy, or a boy at her, it would be the same thing all over again. And what did it mean that her father bought her a new dress every two years? No, her horizons were wider than that. Her horizons were wider than this dreary little trailer set out in the middle of the Oklahoma nowhere.
She crept into her father's bedroom, opening the door without a squeak. She moved slowly, cautiously, not because she was nervous, but because she had a plan and it had to work, would work if she were meticulous. At the foot of her father's bed, she knelt, breathing quietly until her eyes adjusted to that darkened corner of the room where she detected the outline of his pants on the floor. She studied them for a minute, picked the back of them up no more than necessary to extract his wallet from his hippocket, then set them back down without a rustle. By the light of the refrigerator she opened the billfold and saw that, just as she anticipated, he had gone to the bank while in town today. His wallet contained nearly fifty-five dollars folding money.
She put ten dollars back in-all he would need to get him back to the bank in Fort Sill, or to wait for his retirement check, which he would get on the first, a week away. She put the wallet in the refrigerator, behind the orange juice, so he would see it when he got up in the morning. This was part of her plan: if he awoke in the middle of the night and saw her gone, he'd put on his pants and chase after her-he'd get only as far as his gas tank would take him, with no way of getting any more. In the morning, all the credit cards in the world would do him no good. She would be beyond his reach.
She sewed twenty dollars into the hem of her dress, hid twenty beneath the ripped lining at the bottom of her purse, and put five in her billfold. She packed a change of underwear, an old sweater and an old skirt, her hair curlers, and the two new movie magazines her father had brought back this afternoon, putting it all in a battered overnight bag.
She moved quietly until she was out of sight of the trailer, then hurried down the road to the highway a mile and a half away, her heart soaring. She stood in the gravel at the side of the highway and stuck out her thumb.
The first motor vehicle to catch her in its high beams as it came down the road squealed to a halt thirty yards beyond her, and the driver let the motor idle while she ran down the road to climb in, free at last.
It was a gas tanker, the logo on its side recognizable as that of a minor brand. The driver, whose hair was slicked down, who had a smear of grease on his temple and thick black grease under all ten fingernails, said, "What say, baby? Where ya heading?"
"L.A.," she answered unhesitatingly.
"Oh yeah? What part of L.A.?" he asked.
"Hollywood."
"You don't say," he said. "Well, I'm only going as far as the West Texas border." And after a moment he grinned and continued, "Well, you never know who you're going to run into, do ya? The night's still young."
Y-yes, it is," she stammered, not quite sure what to say.
CHAPTER TWO
The girl in the pale green dress sat stiffly on the far side of the seat from the driver of the truck, eyes wide, staring straight ahead at the high beams of the headlights. She didn't notice anything-the tumbleweeds, sagebrush, occasional road signs or buildings-briefly illuminated in the passing glare as the tanker rocked down the highway. The driver glanced into the rear view mirror, frowned, then reached up to adjust the mirror, leaving a dark smudge on the glass where he'd touched it.
Fearing the fast-approaching lights behind him might be those of a Texas Ranger, he slowed his speed by ten miles an hour without touching his foot to the brake-simply easing off on the gas for a moment. But the headlights whizzed on by, belonging to a brand new Cadillac. The driver tromped on the gas again.
He was so covered with grime, he had explained to Cassie, because he'd had to change a tire. Fella didn't know what grime was until he'd changed a tire on one of these sumbitches. The backs of his knuckles were skinned, and he had dirt in the hairs of his forearms as well as all over the front of his T-shirt. However, the underarms of his T-shirt were brown with stains, and irregular circles of stain went down the sides from where he'd sweated different amounts on different days; and his Levi's, once a faded blue, were black in places.
This girl, who sat silently hugging the door, had begun to annoy him. He'd been real friendly. He'd cracked his best jokes, and she hadn't laughed. He'd tried out his sweet talk on her, and she'd hugged the goddamn door all the more. She hadn't even said where she was from or what she was doing on the road this time of night. Prim bitch! Who did she think she was? "Christ," he said to himself, "I wouldn't fuck her now if she got down on her knees and begged for it 'til she was blue in the face." But no sooner had he said that to himself than he looked at her again out of the corner of his eye-appraising those tits of hers, wondering if they were real.
He couldn't see the outline of them now, be cause she had folded her arm, the one nearest to him, across them, fingers clutching the doorframe where the window was rolled down.
This man made Cassie nervous. Every time he looked at her chest with that leer in his eye, she cringed inwardly, afraid he was going to reach out and soil her new dress.
The night passed in silence, neither speaking. It was less than an hour before sunrise, the first rays were already beginning to light the sky behind them, and Cassie was tired, wearier than she'd ever been. She had never been up this late before, and stayed awake now only by holding her eyes 'way open, pretending they were propped open with toothpicks, and biting her tongue.
At dawn the driver pulled his rig off the road and onto a large graveled area which served as the parking lot for the Short Stop Cafe.
"I'm going to go have me some ham and eggs and a cup of coffee," the driver said. "You hungry?"
"N-no," she stammered. "I don't think so. I think I'll just sit here a minute first."
As soon as the driver was out of sight, Cassie planned to run out to the road and stick out her thumb again. They had parked on the far edge of the lot, facing away from the road. Several other rigs were between them and the Short Stop. Cassie could see out her window, and looking down the road until it became a needle point and disappeared from view, she couldn't see a single car coming. She sighed, and decided to stretch out on the seat for a minute. She lay on her side, knees curled. If a car comes, I'll hear it coming. In the morning you can hear a long ways off, she mused, and it was her last conscious thought before she succumbed to the needs of her tired young body.
The driver placed his order, then walked on back to the rest room. He urinated and then looked in the mirror, seeing that his hair needed combing. When he reached for his comb, he realized his wallet was missing and remembered that he'd left it in the glove compartment.
When he rounded another rig and glanced into his cab, wondering what that prim little bitch had been up to, and didn't see her head and shoulders in the window, he had two thoughts at once: first, Well, the little twat skeedaddled, and second, She's run off with my wallet!
Tensed up, not knowing which way to run to catch her, he jumped up on the running board, then slowly began to relax when he saw the figure lying face down in the seat, one knee slightly bent, her cheek on the back of her hand. He opened the door and, putting his knee on the seat beside her hips, opened and reached into the glove compartment for his wallet. Making no effort to be quiet, he looked at her eyes when he closed the compartment door, wanting to see the look on her face when she saw him hovering over her. She didn't flicker an eyelid. Why, she's sound asleep, he thought, peering at her a bit more attentively and noting she was breathing deep and regular, her full lips slightly parted.
He rocked back on his knee, casually taking in the girl's waist and the width of her hips. Slowly, not wanting her to wake up, not just yet, he lifted her dress by its hem, revealing the pale skin of the backs of her thighs. She didn't stir as the dress settled about her hips. For several long moments the driver was spellbound by the way her expanse of buttocks filled out the silk of her panties. Through the white sheerness he saw the crack between her cheeks, but his view stopped where the silk was double-layered at her crotch. He pushed a steady slow-moving finger beneath the silk and lifted, then slid his finger around between her legs and pulled the panties aside.
His heart skipped a beat. His eyebrows went up and the eyes themselves took on another dimension as they seemed to glass over. He licked his lips as he marveled at the sleeping girl's cunt; the sight made his blood move faster in his veins, causing his prick to stir in eagerness. And those thin blond hairs! She's such a prim bitch, a fella'd never guess she had a pussy like that! In the morning stillness, three fingertips pressed between her legs.
Cassie woke up, gasped, and tried to flop over, but the driver was ready for her. Her scream died before it could leave her larynx, stopped short as he pressed into the middle of her throat with the fingers of both hands, shutting off her windpipe.
Cassie almost blacked out. She thought of the sudden darkness before he let go, not knowing if it would be forever or not. She heard him say, "If you try to scream, you won't live to make another sound. Now spread your legs." It took her a moment to figure out what he wanted her to do.
Before she could coordinate his command with her body, his knee was on the back of her right thigh; when he put his full weight on her, she got a charley horse. He pulled her other leg out until it dangled in the expanse over the floor pedals and bumped the steering column. He frowned for a moment before he bent her leg at the knee, shoved it forward, twisting her foot until he got it up and into the gap in the circular steering wheel, and then pulled it on through. When he shifted the gear stick on the floor into first, bringing it flush with her thigh, she couldn't move. This all took less than twenty seconds. Cassie was now trapped and vulnerable, buttocks arched, panties gathered in her crack. With two fingers he pulled the silk out of her crack, whipped a jackknife out of his pocket and cut through the material. Her defenseless pussy was now naked to him, and wide open, subject to any indignity he wanted to perform.
Where there had been three clear smudges on her cunt where he'd touched her with his fingertips, the cheeks of her ass now became smudged as he squeezed them, and in another moment, the entire area between both widespread thighs from her anus to her clitoris and beyond became almost black as he clutched, pressed, and rubbed with his hands. Grease and everyday Texas dirt clung to her once-yellow hairs and filled the wrinkles of her pouting pussy lips.
Cassie had been plucked and pried to the point where the smooth skin in her slit was as grease-smeared as the rest of her, when, abruptly, he rammed two fingers deep into her tender passage.
Her spine snapped like a bullwhip, and she would have screamed if she hadn't known he'd kill her if she did. As it was, she almost Vomited at first when he twisted his fingers around, cruelly brutalizing her most sensitive part. It pained her less when he began to pull them out almost all the way-very slowly-before ramming them in again. And then, something happened to her down there-her cunt involuntarily let out a spurt or two of its own fluid-and his fingers began to slide in and out with greater ease. It tickled her now-she didn't like it, but it reminded her of how it felt when she did it to herself.
He panted now, except that he panted through clenched teeth as if he were in pain or had just run a furlong. Where his cock had been hard before, now that her cunt had become so soft and slippery, melting like a popsicle on a summer sidewalk, his cock grew an inch and began to twitch of its own accord. When he pulled his hand away from her sopping cunt, those two fingers were clean compared to the rest of his hand, as if somebody had taken him aside and scrubbed those two fingers for him.
He zipped down his pants and for a moment was afraid his cock was so hard it was going to pop a hole in his underpants before he could get them off. He hoisted himself over her, grinning lewdly down at her pussy and terrified expression, and rubbed the head of his huge, throbbing, blue-veined cock in the slippery fur-lined furrow of her snatch. He took aim, pausing to make sure the glans of his prick was centered right at the heart of her opening.
When Cassie had felt him withdraw his hand earlier, she was suddenly relieved that it was all over now, that she could pull her dress back down and go get a ride with someone who was nicer. She really didn't know why he was hovering over her the way he was. Now he was rubbing her cunt again-this time with something warm and throbbing-something that felt hard but spongy. She tried to see what he was doing, but her position made it impossible.
Then, abruptly, she felt the pressure down there splitting her already widespread thighs. "You're hurting me," she whimpered, now suddenly frightened-terribly frightened.
"Baby, you ain't saying you ain't ever been fucked before." He guffawed. "A nice little pussy like yours-that ain't no cherry, I can tell. Now you're going to get a little of my big old cock here-shoved right in so deep you'll think it's coming out your cotton-picking throat. Here it comes."
The driver bucked his hips and suddenly Cassie remembered the carrot. Only this was no carrot; it was twice as big, three times big, as the carrot. "Agggghhh, you're hurting me." Her pitiful pleading did no good, for the truck driver merely began ramming into her as he sought to lodge his thick prick in the heart of her womb. Suddenly there was intolerable pressure and pain. "AGGGGHHHHH, no!" she screamed, and was immediately rewarded with a forearm pressed against her throat, shutting off her air supply.
"I warned you," the driver snarled. "Another peep out of you and I'll knock your fucking bitch's teeth down your goddamned throat."
"You're hurting me," she repeated. "Please."
"Honey pot, you got the tightest little cunt I ever been in before; I almost think you probably are telling the truth about being cherry. Well, here's where we find out." The driver reared back, then rammed his prick in with the force of a runaway truck careening downhill without brakes. Down, down, down his cock slammed, down through fleshy barriers that parted reluctantly before the brutal onslaught of muscle, gristle and blood-engorged nerves and tendons.
"Aaaaggghhh," she moaned, and futilely sought to push against his chest. Her protests fell on deaf ears, for the truck driver's eyes were glazed as he felt the warm sheath of her cunt clasping and unclasping around the head of his cock. He slammed forward one final time and his testicles slapped against the backs of her thighs; the bristly hairs of his scrotum tickled and invaded her anus.
Her cunt was stretched as it had never been stretched before. It felt as if she had pushed three or four carrots in there, only this throbbed and had a heat. What was this thing he'd shoved up her? It felt so big and hard ... was it a monkey wrench or some other kind of tool he kept between his legs? She didn't know. She was mystified, frightened, for she had seen only a few penises in her life, and never one in a state of erection. Her young mind failed to make the connection between the limpid pee-pee-pointers she'd seen and this wedge of gristle now stretching her tender cunt to its utmost, stretching it anew with each new thrust, filling her so absolutely full that she thought she would suffocate.
The driver held still a minute. Almost as an afterthought it occurred to him that what he'd first noticed about this girl was her tits. Without further thought he reached around underneath her and gave a mighty pull, popping buttons and tearing fabric. Then, pulling from the neck, he yanked the torn dress down off her shoulders. Cassie found her arms-still in the sleeves-yanked straight down. Her arms wound uppinned to her waist at the elbows, making movement impossible. It was almost as if she were in a straitjacket.
The driver fumbled, but try as he might, he couldn't get his hand into her bra, which seemed several sizes too small for the globes of succulent flesh. He picked his open jackknife off the dashboard and cut the straps, then yanked the worthless garment out from underneath her.
Cassie's breasts dangled, swaying as his cock once again began churning her cunt. Reaching around with his free hand, he squeezed her breasts, compressing the flesh, and amazed at their soft resilience. He rubbed his callused fingers on her nipples, which immediately stiffened up into firm little Tinkertoys, then squeezed some more as though he were playing with a sponge.
"How do you like that, baby? I'm getting to you. I can tell, your little ole pussy's heating up something fierce down there."
Mortified that he'd torn her dress and distracted by what he was doing to her breasts, Cassie became aware again of what he was doing inside her vagina. When he had first shoved in there, her cunt had been so mercilessly stretched that it became numb, and now she was conscious of his pumping in and out-and it was as if she were an old unused tire being pumped up and made new, only with something more wonderful than air, something that played in every nerve in her body. Involuntarily, as the sensations washed over her, she began to rock her hips, wanting to open herself more to this new sensation.
One of her feet was hooked into the steering wheel and the other leg was pinched in the corner of the seat. Her elbows were held by her dress to her sides, and yet, desire awakened, she managed to push her cunt up and down beneath his cruelly plunging cock.
It was too much for the driver as the sudden familiar feeling of release swept through his heated, expanding balls. He was all too conscious of the soft warmth of her buttocks pressing into his hips and belly, and of her breasts filling his hands. He was caught up by the moving masses of her softest parts, hazily aware of them then as, caught by her cunt in a vise-like grip, his aching throbbing prick began to explode, shooting one spurt after another of hot sperm deep into her bowels.
Cassie held still, eyes opening as she wondered what was happening down there. She felt her inmost chamber being flooded. The promise had been real-he had pumped her full of something better than air. But on the heels of wonder came disappointment. That good, wonderful feeling that the carrot had brought to her had been so close to whatever the driver had been doing, but now that promise was fading and she felt strangely hollow inside as the driver's prick went limp and he collapsed on her.
She had been pushed half off the seat in his final battering of her, and one breast dangled. She looked at it and frowned. Why, her breast was black-black with grease! Only then did she think, He's touched me there! She remembered that her father had once beat her half to death when he thought she let a boy touch her and, of course, she remembered her more recent whipping about the carrot. In her dazed state, she confused them. The sun was up. Her father was up, had found his credit cards, and was chasing her. Her new dress was torn and her breast was black with fingerprints. If her father found her, he wouldn't stop with a beating. No, he'd shoot her with his shotgun. Caught in a maze, she didn't know what she was going to do, how to get free and reach her wider horizons. She stopped a tear, but realized too late that, scared half to death, she was powerless to stop the flow at the other end. She shut her eyes as the pent-up urine hissed from her cavity.
A stream of hot piss struck the truck driver right between the balls. He screamed as if scalded and flopped back, his cock coming out with a plop, as the helpless girl's pee shot out onto his legs as well as hers and all over the front of her dress, splattering over the dashboard and draining onto the floor and into the worn cowhide seats.
Cursing angrily, the driver turned her to her side. He yanked her foot free of the steering wheel, and mopped up the seat with the back of her dress for a moment before reaching past her to open the door on the far side of the cab. He shoved her bodily out onto the gravel. Her arms were, for all practical purposes, still bound, and she had no balance. She landed on her feet, however, and staggered several steps, reaching the dirt at the edge of the gravel before falling to her knees. He threw her overnight bag out after her, then scrubbed the seat with every available rag, throwing each in turn at the girl who was trembling and half-naked beside the road. He then pulled up his pants and took off, his rig crunching gravel as he left the parking lot, the sign on the side of the truck flashing in the sun.
Cassie stood still in the morning air. She wanted to sit down and cry, but managed to catch hold of herself. After all, she was standing out in the open, her titties blackened, her arms caught behind her, her dress hopelessly torn and soaked in pee besides. She had never been more vulnerable or helpless. It would be just my luck to have a Hollywood talent scout come by right now, she thought.
After a moment, she pulled herself together as she heard the high-pitched whine of a car motor in the distance. Quickly, she freed her arms, and although protected from the view of the Short Stop customers by a rig, she pulled her dress up to cover her breasts with one hand and with the other picked up her more-scuffed-than-ever bag and ran between two trucks at the far end of the lot. There she let her dress fall, tugging it down over her hips, dropping it on the gravel. Opening her bag, she took out her one change of clothes, a skirt and a sweater. The skirt was white and had pleats. It was much too short and too tight for her now, but it had once been her favorite. And the sweater-when she pulled it on, the material stretched taut across her full breasts, looking then like some open-knit outer garment, but still as loose as ever around her tiny waist. She next lifted her purse out of the overnight bag and stuffed her two movie magazines into it, as well as her mirror and hairbrush. There wasn't room for the curlers, so she left them in the abandoned bag. She stepped out from between the trucks, then retraced her steps to rip the hem of her ruined dress to extract a damp twenty-dollar bill.
Cassie went into the Short Stop, pausing for an instant by the door to locate the rest room before walking quickly to it, looking neither to her right nor to her left, hoping no one looked at her ... yet feeling eyeballs all around her. Between the time she stepped out from between the trucks and reaching the entrance, a little green sports car had pulled into the parking lot, zipping up and spewing up gravel right in front. As she opened the Short Stop door, the car's driver climbed out. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he had brown hair just over his ears and a mustache, and wore an open-necked blue sports shirt. At first she hoped she attracted his attention, then remembering that she must look a fright, she walked quickly, hoping he didn't look too closely.
She locked the door to the ladies' room and quickly stripped off all her clothes. She looked in the mirror and thought, Good gosh! Not only did she have black smudges on her breasts, behind, and cunt, but she had dirt on her knees, streaks of wetness on her thighs-and her face was streaked. Using paper towels and the gritty Boraxo from the soap dispenser, she scrubbed herself from her hairline to her ankles. The towels were rough and the soap stung her most sensitive parts, but she hurried. She scrubbed with vigor, wanting to be clean. She hurried because she wanted to have a choice of the man she rode with next. She had already picked him out and was afraid he might zip off before she finished, that sports car of his spraying gravel as he left.
Jerry Parnell had driven seventy-five miles in an hour that morning before he found a place that suited him to stop for breakfast. He always stopped where the truckers stopped-that was usually a sign of decent food served with a minimum of fuss. He ordered his breakfast steak and, until it came, thought about the girl he'd seen, wondering what had happened to her.
He had been surprised at the sight of her for several reasons. First, what was a chick who looked like that doing out here in the middle of nowhere, Texas? Second, what was she doing out here in nowhere dressed like that? She wasn't wearing a brassiere! While he was accustomed to the sight of braless girls in New Orleans and San Francisco, it was pretty damn unusual out here in the sticks. And her breasts had wobbled so enticingly as she walked around the corner of the restaurant. And third, why had she been crying?
Once his food came, he lit into it, and the perplexing girl left his mind only to enter it again after he had finished his steak. Suddenly she came out of the powder room, took one long penetrating look around the restaurant, then came over to sit down across from him at his table.
She smiled nervously, hesitant to speak. She seemed younger than he had thought on first impression. He spoke his thoughts. "What in hell is a chick like you doing in this dump at seven in the morning?"
She was tongue-tied for a second, then shrugged, "I got stuck here. I need a ride."
"Which way do you want to go?"
"The same way as you," she said. Then, afraid he'd think her forward, she added. "I-uh-I saw you drive in. I mean, I hope you're still going that way," she said, pointing west.
"I am," he said. "Have you had breakfast?"
"Uh-no," she said, her eyes flickering, not wanting to have to tell him what had prevented her from eating.
From the way she hesitated, he assumed she didn't have any money and was afraid to say so. "Well," he said, smiling encouragement, "Let me buy you something, while I have another cup of coffee. Then we'll hit the road." Without waiting for an answer, he called the waitress and ordered the girl steak and eggs. He spent money freely. He had money to spend. He was just twenty-five, and he had a lot of it. He had made it all within the past year.
"How old are you, anyway?" he asked.
"Eighteen," she said, trying to look older.
"Oh?" He glanced at the red of her nipples, plainly visible through the holes in her green knit sweater, and conceding that she just might be eighteen at that. Good likelihood in fact, he thought, as one of her nipples pouted and poked cleanly through a gap in the knit. He watched her as she ate ravenously. Then, aware of the speculative stares of the truckers, he paid the bill and followed her outside.
He was again surprised when she climbed into his car. A woman can climb into the lowest of sports cars and remain modest-it was tricky, but anyone could do it. Jerry had found that most older women mastered it-at least the first time or two he took them out. Young girls, however, didn't seem to care. They always spread their legs, rather than moving both together. When you held the door open for a broad, that was one of the few times you could stare frankly and openly up the skirt of a stranger and not have her think you were hard up. Having had his car a year now, Jerry had grown blase about it. If he was curious what a girl was wearing, he looked; if not, he didn't. He was quite curious about Cassie. Cassie had never ridden in a sports car before and was thus new to the game. It took her a while-holding her left knee high in the air like the rest of them, only longer-while she figured out a place to put her foot.
And all the while he stared at her, the rubied bloodshot eye of her cunt winked back at him, surrounded by its aura of freshly scrubbed wispy yellow fleece. The saliva ran thick in his mouth, and after shutting her door he had to breathe deeply to steady himself before going around to his side of the car. Already his cock was crawling inside the tight confines of his trousers. This had the makings and the promise of being a very heavy trip.
"How far you going?" he asked, suddenly thinking that since she didn't have any luggage she might be going only to the next town.
"L.A."
"Why L.A.?" he asked, relieved. "Hollywood," she said, as if that explained everything.
"Oh," he said, suddenly wanting to laugh at her naivete, but containing himself. "You want to be in the movies."
She nodded her head, somehow embarrassed at his tone of voice.
"Well, you've got it all over any ten actresses I can think of right offhand ... you should be a big hit."
"You think so?" she asked eagerly. "Sure," he said. "Can you act at all?"
"I can learn."
He was silent for a moment, thinking out his plan. He argued it all through before he said thoughtfully, "Have you ever thought about San Francisco?"
"San Francisco what?" she asked, obviously puzzled.
"Hollywood is falling apart," he answered earnestly. "Their movies aren't making any money. It's a very chaotic situation down there. The place is dying off, and only diehards are left there now." He paused to let this sink in before continuing. "There are a lot of movies being made right now in San Francisco. San Francisco is the film capital now. It's where the really hard-core ... er, the real avant-garde is today."
"The which?" she asked.
"The avant-garde," he said, glad of the opportunity to correct himself. "That's where the real action is. It's the fore-front of what's going to happen everyplace else tomorrow."
"It is?"
"Yes. What's more, it's easy to break in right now in San Francisco. You just have to know one or two of the right people, and someone'll give you a chance to prove yourself. Why, take anybody, take your favorite actress, and you can place a bet she was once a member of the avant-garde."
"Dee-Dee Ann Mauvequim," blurted Cassie.
"Why yes! I was just thinking of her. She got her start in the avant-garde. Christ, she'd never have made it in Hollywood. In Hollywood you have to sit around and wait for a talent scout or somebody to notice you."
"I know," she said resignedly. Most of what he was saying was brand new to her, but she'd read about talent scouts.
"You ought to give it some thought," he said.
"I will," she promised.
He was quiet for several minutes, letting her mull this over, watching her out of the corner of his eye. When he thought the time was right, he said, "I know a man who produces movies-good friend of mind."
"Do you!!?" she squealed.
"Sure. If you get tired of Hollywood and decide you want to get some experience acting, just come on up to San Francisco."
They talked as they zipped across Texas. She was comfortable with this man who seemed to know something about movies. She thought that he seemed like a nice man; the other man, the truckdriver, hadn't been very nice at all.
Even as she was thinking of him, some fifty miles ahead of them a truck-the sign on its side reading West Texas United Natural Gas-left the road after failing to make it around a bend. It bounced across some fairly rough terrain before it lost a wheel, burst into flames, and exploded. Speculation was that the driver fell asleep at the wheel-someone following a hundred yards back noticed his head bobbing-but no one was ever to know, because he went up with his cargo. Cassie and Jerry zipped by the still-smoking wreckage at noon, passing with only a curious glance; and Cassie had no way of knowing that the blackened corpse still locked in the warped cab was someone she'd known intimately.
The dead driver left an impression beyond the fiery grave, though, and thus in a sense achieved some sort of immortality. With her knees on the dashboard, Cassie lowered the back of her seat and dozed off about noontime; she fell asleep without being nervous, but as she drifted off, a fire, kindled at dawn but still smoldering, burned in her loins. Perhaps the car she rode in-the purr of its motor or its rocking motion-had something to do with it. She slumbered soundly, her dreams hazy and pleasant.
After a while Jerry eased the blower on full-it had been half-open and a brisk warm breeze had blown in on them all morning-and slowly accelerated the car. The increased velocity of wind within the car soon had the desired effect. Her short skirt was lifted into the air by the breeze and blown back, baring her fluffy yellow triangle.
When her knee swung down from the dashboard as they rounded a curve-none too smoothly-Jerry adjusted his rearview mirror so he could look at that pussy of hers. He knew he would send them flying off the road if he looked at it too long or too hard, so he just glanced at it every now and then out of the corner of his eye, watching its hair blowing in the breeze, happy to know it was there when he wanted it. After an hour or so, it became a real effort to keep his attention on the road, and before he could tear his eyes away he almost rear-ended a Volkswagen. The warm breeze combined with her subconscious memories of the rape caused Cassie's rubied lips to part slightly. Droplets of pussy dew glistened in the late afternoon sun, and her clitoris peeked its gleaming tip up from amidst the fleshy folds.
Jerry couldn't take it any longer. His cock had been rock-hard for almost an hour. He used his free hand to yank her skirt down so she wouldn't know she'd been naked and pulled the sports car off the road. The vehicle bounced a bit as they hit the turnout, before skidding to a halt. Her eyelids fluttered and she started, making little half-lunges toward sitting up. But before she succeeded in either opening her eyes completely or sitting up, Jerry had lowered his seat and propped himself up beside her on an elbow. A hand on her shoulder, he bent to kiss her.
Her lips-as was everything else about her-were soft and pliant. The way they melted beneath his, the way her tongue came to life and honeyed his, no one would have guessed it was her first kiss. Without hesitation, his hand went under her skirt and his fingers sank right into the middle of her throbbing liquefied slit. She moaned softly, rolling her eyes and bucking her hips.
Never one to mince words, Jerry said, "I want to fuck you."
"Fuck me?" she said, not knowing what it meant.
"Yes," he said. "In just a minute now I'm going to fuck you silly. What do you have to say about that?"
She still didn't know quite what he meant, but his voice was so sexy and nice that she was sure he didn't mean anything bad by it. "I don't know. Will I like it?"
"You can count on it."
"Okay," she whispered, as he did several things at once. He pulled her sweater out at the waist and in one motion lifted it to her armpits, freeing her braless breasts, which slid slightly to the sides with a quaking wobble. He pushed one of her ankles into the far corner of the driver's seat, and her other out the car window. Then, crouching on the floor like a hungry animal, he eyed her pink, moist, fur-lined furrow before slipping his hands down between her warm buttocks and the leather seat. He grasped the succulent globes of flesh in his hands and raised her love-starved snatch to his face.
"Oh? Oh? OH! It's ... it's...." Cassie panted, unable to finish the sentence, as the first touch of his hot hungry lips drove little devils of delight screaming through her entire abdomen.
Jerry could taste the slightly alkaline residue of the Boraxo she had used to cleanse herself earlier. It was not unpleasant. He licked her pubic hair and inner thighs, noticing that his tongue brought immediate little goose bumps to her flesh. The sun reflected a fine sheen of perspiration on her inner thighs and outer folds of pussy, and the cunt itself smelled of new-mown hay. He swallowed, feeling her buttocks trembling beneath his hands.
Then, without warning her, his tongue suddenly flicked forward like heat lightning.
"Ohhhh ... aahhhhh! Beee ... uuuu ... ti ... ful. Beautiful! Jerry ... Jerry! JERRY!" The scream of wantonness was ripped from her lust-constricted throat, and with superhuman strength she grabbed his ears in an effort to shove that wonderful tongue, that tool of pleasure, in her as far as it could go. She wanted him to lick deep, deep, deeper than the carrot had gone, and in her mind she could feel it licking at her cervix, licking at her coccyx. She splayed her legs out wide in an effort to make even more of a present of her pussy.
Jerry's educated tongue crept maddeningly along the one side of her cuntal lips; it reached the anus, then started back-slowly-up the other side. Her vagina twitched once-twice!-and he taste the first oozing of nectar from that corolla of nerve and soft-flesh endings. Her cunt juice was sweet; he was a connoisseur! As she began squealing in wantonness beneath his ministrations, he gradually became aware that this was the first time anyone had ever eaten her pussy. The thought goaded him, and he shoved his vibrating tongue deep into her snatch, pausing at the inner labia, before licking them. She screamed and began buffeting her pelvis up and down against his face.
Cassie's body was beginning to tremble all over; she had never had the shakes like this before. But then, neither had she ever felt the way she did now as his tongue quivered, drove, licked, and scoured her femaledom. Then, just as she was building to an explosion down there, he pulled his face away.
"No...." she whimpered. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop."
Jerry laughed at her innocence as he used his thumb and forefinger to peel apart the cuntal lips. The clitoris, like some bashful little brown almond, came into view. He bent forward again ... and gently bit it!
"Aaaaaaaggghhh, JERRY!"
The boy began swirling his "tongue around and around the base of the clitoris, all the time feeling a wonderment at the girl's actions. Christ! She was really turned on! She was so fucking hot that she was about to go out of her mind. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought someone had slipped her a kilo of Spanish fly. Her cunt had begun oozing large silvery streams of lubricant, and she was slippery enough to take a railroad tie, he thought.
Abruptly he became aware that she had ceased breathing and her ass was arched up off the seat as though she were strapped to an electric chair. She was about to cum; she was reaching for her climax. His hands had been freed by her sudden stiffening, so he used his fingers to brush her swelling nipples. She punched up higher against him, as his tongue traced fire from her clitoris to her anus, racing madly back and forth before plunging deep into her hot wet center. He drew her puffy inner lips into his mouth and began sucking voraciously, the back of his tongue brushing her throbbing clitoris as she began to rotate her hips in her desire to bring back that rocking sensation, all the while thrusting her breasts, one and then the other, into his massaging hands.
Quickly, he was atop her, pausing to lick some green lint from her bellybutton before fastening his mouth on her left nipple, rolling it with his tongue as he guided his aching prick to the dripping lips of her cunt-mouth. She had thrown her arms back, but he took her hand and guided it to his thick shaft. She opened her eyes in surprise when she felt it-it was so velvety! so hard!-no monkey wrench this. She rubbed the glans of his cock up and down her slit before aiming it at her own aching hollow center and pulling it in, wanting that big cock to ream her little cunt clean through.
He entered her slowly with many quick little thrusts, the rippling edges of her cunt clinging to him and sliding away as the throbbing head of his prick opened her channel. Even though he stuck it in slow and easy, she was a little numb at first from the sheer size of it. It took her breath away and she didn't know what to do with herself until its prodding head touched the deep end of her cunt. Then she moaned and gave herself up to the rocking sensation now stealing upon her as he began to churn her with his prick. She swivelled her hips from side to side, jerking her pelvis up to meet this marvelous thing like nothing else in nature. When it threatened to leave her she felt empty and ached for more; when it came back in she went all tingly and her head spun.
Jerry knew he had her now and began to move more rapidly, bucking his hips until his balls slapped her anal crack with resounding smacks, his prick making plopping noises as her rippling cuntal ridges drew him back into her overheated suction cup.
Cassie rocked with more vigor, with more and more sway, until she knew herself now to be spilling over.
Jerry suddenly stiffened, then shouted, "I'm cumming. Oh, God, baby, it's great ... beautiful!
I'm cum-mmm-ming!"
She made a long moaning sound through her nose, her cunt tightening around him as he began to send hot cum roaring into her, spurt after protracted spurt-and then her breath caught as her body truly went haywire, jerking frenziedly from the spine, as the exquisite velvet explosion hit her. It seemed to last an eternity before it tapered off into a fluttering sensation of absolute peace and relaxation.
When Jerry got his breath back, he said, "You throw a really wild and groovy fuck, lady."
She blushed. "So do you," she whispered, at a loss for words.
"And you got a great pair of tits," he said, squeezing one about its base and shaking it, appreciating the sheer softness of it in contrast to the bones of her rib cage.
She didn't say anything, but blushed more deeply in silent joy, wearing a goofy grin of happiness....
His prick now limp, Jerry eased it out and then rolled onto his side, curling slightly so his backside touched the door on his side of the car, and looked at the girl, whose eyes fluttered shut again. She'd only had an hour's sleep, and many demands had been made on her young body. She was too exhausted to draw her right leg in through the window. Her full lips were parted, and perspiration beaded on the upper. After admiring her breasts for several minutes, idly teasing one of her nipples back to life and flicking it back and forth with his finger, Jerry inadvertently glanced into the rearview mirror, which was still trained on her cunt. At the unexpected sight of it-its soft inner folds a deep vermilion and glistening, cum gathered and seeping from its orifice, its sparse beard of blonde hairs so diffused with sunlight that at first glance you didn't notice them-Jerry's prick stirred.
He picked up Cassie's hand and guided it to his growing manhood. Opening her eyes, she squeezed it, and with her soft cradling touch it continued to grow. She discovered that as she continued to hold it, its outer covering peeled back from its tip to reveal the purpling glans. She marveled at its perfection and held it in awe.
Not until she felt a finger snaking easily into her own hot moist insides did Cassie realize that her cunt had begun to ache in earnest, and ache for something more substantial than a finger. She wondered if she could ever again use her own wee fingers to effectively soothe her cunt when it began to ache. Or use anything else? It seemed that nothing but a cock could really do it right. Would she be dependent now for the rest of her life on these huge blue-veined organs men carried between their legs, forever spewing hot cum like fire? she wondered.
Fully aware of the signals generating within her pulsating pussy, Jerry scooted into the middle of the seats-one buttocks on each seat-straddling the gearshift. Grabbing her thigh just above the knee, he pulled her leg back into the car and in one continuing motion pulled her over on top of himself. He then guided her other leg so that it was spread in the opposite direction, her knees in the far corners of the seats. Her elbows on either side of his head at the top of the rec-lined seats, she was now poised above him on all fours, her ass in the air and her breasts dangling almost to his shoulders.
He paused for a moment, calling a time out, to unbutton his shirt, revealing well-developed pectoral muscles covered with a handsome mat of hair. As soon as his nimble fingers freed the last button, his hands shot to her hips, forcing her down onto his shaft, lunging with his own hips as she did, lodging its fiery head just inside her creamy pussy.
Feeling it within her, its immensity on the verge of plowing her, she reared up far as she was able before hitting the roof of the car-as if she could take it better upright-then slowly settled back onto it. Her breath came in tiny little gasps until its tough gristle had penetrated her to its hilt. Its skin seemed to cling to her own. She wanted to moan, but held back until she was totally engorged; then her breath escaped her in one long nasal groan as she collapsed onto Jerry, her breasts smacking his chest.
Jerry clutched the cheeks of her ass as he withdrew his prick and lunged in again, bringing another moan to her lips. He held her still, wanting that hot slippery cunt right there, its very hotness and wetness a balm on his cock.
Her bottom was held in a vise-like grip as her eager pussy was pummeled and raked. The action caused Cassie's head to reel for a moment before the fire building up in her scorched and throbbing channel reached her spine and sent her toes tingling. Then her body's central nerve began to jerk with each thrust, and she whipped her torso in time with the powerful thrusts. Her breasts alternately swung up and came down on Jerry's shoulders with a smacking noise, their tender nipples growing erect at the touch of his wiry chest hairs.
Despite his grip, she began to undulate and rotate her pelvis, twisting down on him when he lunged, and up on him when he withdrew-and in doing so she discovered to her surprise that although a cock might seem rock-hard, in a way it was limber, too. Cassie tested this limberness as she felt the force of his thrust on all the walls of her overheated cunt. Whipping and twisting her body atop his, she wanted him to cum! She wanted him to inundate her very center; she wanted to drown in a flood of sensation.
Totally absorbed in the moving flex of her body, Jerry held the globes of her ass firm, and still she twisted like a demon. She was going absolutely wild-was uncontrollable-as she pounded her tits against his chest, moaning now in one long continuous sound, going "OHHugOHHuhOhh!" Her face was flushed, eyes closed in rapture.
When Jerry felt her most meaningful muscles tighten in a ring around the base of his cock and refuse to let him go, while she viciously ground herself onto the impaling shaft. Every muscle in her hot, slick cunt contracted on him. Suddenly, his balls pulsated as the pent-up sperm left his body in giant spurts.
"Yess, yess!" she cried, throatily, feeling his liquid gift extinguishing the inner fires. "Oh ... Oh ... God!" The tide of her own orgasm overcame her and she fell forward, panting in happiness. She felt utterly relaxed now. Her spine went weak and her once-flapping breasts lay still between them-He let go of her buttocks, his hands, thumbs twitching, sliding off. And, although they both had come, she continued to slowly grind the tight ring of her vagina on him for several minutes, seemingly wanting to milk his testicles of every last drop of semen.
Neither of them mentioned Hollywood again. Both understood she would go with him.
It took them three and a half days to reach San Francisco. What Jerry anticipated to be a two-day trip from West Texas was drawn out when they rented a motel room after an eight o'clock dinner each night, a room they didn't leave until noon the next day. It would have been a mere three days, at that, because he made good time when they did finally hit the road.
Then they became sidetracked in the middle of a hot afternoon outside of Bakersfield, California.
Cassie was lying with her seat rec-lined, the wind playing with the edge of her skirt, as she read a new movie magazine, when she happened to see him glance at her thighs. A minute later, he glanced a second time. Quite casually, she turned to her side lying for a moment with her knees in front of the gearshift and shins along the edge of the seat, propped up on an elbow-but this was a stall, a momentary pause, because a minute or so later she lifted her upper leg, thrusting her hip up a bit so her knee touched the roof of the car, as if bracing herself, and her foot rested on the dashboard. Presented with the wide "V" of her legs which also created a "V" in her crotch running from the tight line between her buttocks and widening with the fluffy hollows between her thighs on either side of the puffy rubied mound-Jerry looked at her face. She held her magazine up between them, but he knew that behind it she smiled.
His hand reached out, casually cupping her mound. When she drew her knees toward her chest without closing them and wagged her pelvis, a finger slid with ease into her dank depths. She lowered the magazine and sighed.
Jerry was in a quandary. His left hand firmly gripped the steering wheel, and his right just as firmly clutched her pussy. Which way to turn? He could not long divide his attention. He wanted to reach San Francisco that night. Cassie wanted to dally. He pulled into the first air-conditioned motel they saw. And thus they became sidetracked in Bakersfield when he decided he might as well pamper the girl.
He was playing it safe, indulging her. He had plans for her. Grand plans. He wasn't bullshitting: he really did know a man who produced movies. Dirty movies!
CHAPTER THREE
When Jerry came back to his apartment on their second morning in San Francisco and told her that he'd arranged for her to have a screen test that very afternoon, Cassie went nearly limp with delight. A real honest-to-gosh screen test! She almost didn't believe him. He smiled mysteriously and assured her that in a mere four hours she would be thoroughly tested. She bit her lower lip, wondering about clothes.
"What should I wear?" she asked. She now had a choice, because Jerry had bought her two dresses, a skirt, and several turtleneck sweaters so thin they were no better than T-shirts. He had refused to buy her any underwear, though, telling her that she looked better without it, and that in the big city it was the fashion to go without it. She had looked around her on the street and supposed that he must be right, but the dresses were so short she feared it might get a little chilly in the fog. She liked all her new things equally, and, with her big moment almost upon her, she felt incapable of making a decision.
"I don't know," Jerry said, shrugging. "Wear anything."
"But I want to look my best!"
"To tell the truth, I don't think it matters a whole hell of a lot what you wear," he said with that same mysterious grin.
"Don't you care?" she asked, incredulous at the thought he might desert her now.
"Sure I do. But a real actress ... why, shit, an actress who cares about artistry can wear anything-rags, or nothing at all, even-and as long as she's able to look natural on the screen, it doesn't matter."
"Maybe I should wear the red one."
"That's fine," he said. "But remember, what you'll be judged on is how comfortable you are in front of a camera, how naturally you're able to express your emotions ... Got that?"
"Yes," she said, nervously, going into the bedroom, feeling the first butterfly in her stomach. Her hand trembled. Maybe she wouldn't be able to do it, she thought, maybe she couldn't express herself naturally. For a moment she knew with certainty that she could not do it, but that thought died because she knew from reading the movie magazines that you had to grab your opportunities where and when you could, and this chance might not come again.
It seemed things were happening to her so fast that she couldn't keep up with them. Why, she'd only left home a week ago, and already she'd got to San Francisco and was on her way to finding her dream. Meeting Jerry had been the luckiest part so far-he'd brought her here, he'd let her move in with him, telling her she could stay with him until she was on her feet and had started down the road to success. Why, he'd already done her more favors than she had a right to expect of anyone.
This didn't do anything to help her nerves, though. Now she was alone. Jerry couldn't pass her screen test for her. Jerry wasn't even going to be there; he'd told her he had some business to take care of, so he was going to have to drop her off. She became increasingly nervous. Before three o'clock came she had gone to the bathroom so many times she lost count, her stomach fluttered so violently she knew she could vomit if she wanted to, and she had bitten off all the fingernails on her left hand.
Thus the girl Jerry left standing on the doorstep near the Marina now had perspiration on her brow. Cassie licked her lips when she pushed the penthouse elevator button, then stood clutching her purse in front of her with both hands. The elevator carried her silently up ten stories, then hissed its dismissal of her as the door whispered open. She turned right when she got off, just as Jerry had told her to do. Down the hall, she saw another door open. She walked uncertainly into the room.
Cassie's anxiety was unnoticed by the three men in the room. The bald fat man who had opened the door for her took a cigar out of his mouth and said, "Come in, dear." She stood stiffly at the door, presenting a picture that brought a hungry glow to the males' eyes. They saw a pretty girl with straight shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes, full sensuous lips, wearing a red dress. The dress was empire-waisted, being tight from just beneath her breasts to her hips where it flared to form the skirt. It was slit from her navel to its high waist, where it was held together with two crossed braids. The dress's bodice was a modified halter, and two straps of cloth formed cups for her breasts which strained at the material as though her tits were attempting to rip the seams. Her legs were slender, with muted shadows on the insides of her thighs where they began to flesh out.
"Come in, my dear, come in," said the fat man. "Let's get a better look at you. It's Cassie, isn't it?"
Cassie nodded and stepped toward the table where the three of them sat. She was conscious that they all looked at her closely, without smiling. She felt her nipples stiffening and looked down at herself to see that this involuntary reaction was all too visible, the thin material of the dress poking out almost half an inch. She blushed.
"Don't be nervous, dear," said the fat man in syrupy tones. "We can't have any of that today, can we?"
Cassie managed to shake her head, and he said, "We want to get to know each other well." She nodded her head and wished the two younger men would say something so she could get to know them. One of them, handsome and deeply tanned, and as blond as she, looked about twenty. The other, with a full heavy beard, looked a little older than Jerry.
"Come sit on my knee," the fat man said, reaching out to take her hand and pulling her between his knees.
Reluctantly, Cassie lowered herself, planting one buttock on his knee. He placed a hand on her hip and pulled her up more squarely onto his fleshy thigh, right up next to his paunch, purring, "Relax, sweetheart, you're all tense," as he began to knead her hip with his chubby fingers.
He stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray and said, "As you know, an actress has to be able to project her emotions, and those emotions have to come to life on the screen and affect the movie fans. You understand that, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Good. An actress has to use everything at her disposal to communicate her emotions-her voice, her eyebrows, her entire body-and she has to be able to do it naturally. This is what makes her appear honest when she's up on the screen...." The blond young man begin to giggle, but the producer killed it with a flash of his eyes. "This is where we have to begin, then, seeing how natural you are about your body."
Cassie stirred uncomfortably as his tiny black eyes pierced her.
"Do you think you can do all this?" he asked.
"Y-yes," she stammered, then nodded her head for emphasis.
"That's what we hoped," he said. "Shall we dive in, then?"
"I guess so," she said.
"Atta girl," he purred. "Let's get you out of this for starters, shall we?"
His fingers fumbled with the clasp at the back of her neck. When the top of her dress fell, Cassie caught it, clutching it to her chest with both hands as the producer unzipped the back of her dress.
"Now, now, remember that we're interested in seeing how natural you can be," he said, tugging gently at her hands.
Cassie permitted him to lower her hands, and the halter of her dress immediately fell forward, revealing her proud breasts in all their innocent glory. Pushing her arms to her sides, he drew the high waist of the dress down, down, down. His fingers were clammy when they touched her bare warm skin. Then he nudged her buttocks with his other hand, wanting her to lift her ass for a moment. Cassie reluctantly did so and her dress slid to the floor. Now she was completely and helplessly nude!
The two other men continued to stare at her, the expressions on their faces not changing except, perhaps, for a narrowing of the eyes in appreciation.
She had never felt more naked-and had, indeed, never been more naked, as she sat back down on his fleshy knee, holding her own knees tightly together. She cowered, now not minding the man's paunch; she wanted, in fact, to use his bulk as a shield. She felt one clammy hand tracing a path from the nape of her neck down her side to the globe of her ass and then up the other side, leaving a path of moisture that made her think of a giant slug. All the while he whispered, "Relax, sweetheart, relax." His other hand petted her shoulder for a moment before sliding down to her bare breasts. She looked down to see his fat fingers roll across the end of a breast, squeeze it, and move on to the other breast. She saw her nipples go all stiff, and point, and she blushed as the thought came: How am I going to relax with him doing this to me ?
The clammy hairless paw dropped to her legs and wormed between her thighs where they were fleshiest. She spread them a bit, wanting as much as possible to avoid contact with the slug. When the paw pressed her far thigh, she moved it farther out and, thinking she might be getting heavy on him, shifted her buttocks, only to feel those obese fingers cup her mound, prodding the flesh. She flinched when he wrapped his other arm around her waist and purred obscenely, 'Relax, sweetheart, this is to help you relax!" She noticed the other two men bending forward eagerly in their seats.
Cassie leaned back on his paunch, thinking that was what he wanted. She realized she had been holding her breath for ages, and began breathing again. As he spread her pussy lips with his other fingers, his chubby middle finger found her slit. The two men saw the outer edge of the fat invading finger begin to slip up and down the puffy pink cuntal lips in a slow hypnotic fashion. His fat knuckle rubbed back and forth over her clitoris, which stiffened immediately as if it were a frightened sentry suddenly awakened by a touch.
Cassie felt her cuntal fluid begin to flow, felt it seeping onto this damp slug. She became quite slick, and his fingers rippled over her most sensitive part with ease. Involuntarily, she canted her hips.
"I think she's coming around," he said, whisking a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiping his finger on it. "She'll be okay." The other men, peering directly into the center of her cunt, now puffy and damp with her fluid, nodded in agreement.
Cassie breathed in relief, thankful, after all that, he had something nice to say about her.
The man with the beard winked at her, then said, "Lights on, Heinrich?"
"Yeah."
Given a nudge, Cassie stood up, and Heinrich rose to his feet with surprising ease for a man of his girth, saying, "Okay, sweetheart, I want to see if you can generate an emotion. I want you to think about your boyfriend. I want you to try to convince me that you are yearning for him, that you would give anything to have him right beside you. Think of it as a quality of desire, of love temporarily frustrated. Do you think you can convey all that?"
"I guess so."
"Good," he said. Cassie noticed that the blond youth had taken off most of his clothes. She guessed that he was going to take a screen test, too. When he removed his undershorts, she saw that he was tan all over, and when he turned to face them, she saw his penis and testicles dangling from a thick field of blond hair. His face was expressionless.
Heinrich led her to the couch. A flood lamp had been set up at one end, and another behind it. The lights blinded her when she lay on the couch as directed. She could see only by shutting one eye and squinting at the room with the other. She lay on her side, weight on one elbow. Caught in the crossed beams of the lights above her and at her feet, her body was without shadows. Her skin took on a sheen and deeper flesh tones. Her triangle became more luxuriant.
Heinrich said, "Okay, shoot!"
The bearded man advanced on her with the camera until he was no more than a foot from her face. Cassie gulped, frightened by the bright lights and the whirring camera. "I-I don't know what to do," she stammered, and her brow crinkled as if she was going to cry.
"There, there," said Heinrich, lumbering over and putting his sweaty fingers on her brow. "We can't have any of that."
Seeing Heinrich smile and sensing that her first failure was not so serious, Cassie held back the tears. Heinrich purred, "It's okay. It'll be okay in a minute. All you have to do is concentrate. Can you try that?" The girl nodded.
"Now, sometimes an actor or actress has to be clever and use his body in subtle ways. First, close your eyes," he said. "It will help you concentrate, and the emotion we want to see can be conveyed quite well with the eyes closed."
Cassie was only too glad to shut her eyes, to shield herself from the harsh glare.
"Next, touch yourself here," he said. He picked up her hand and dropped it between her legs. He then spread them, pushing them back and propping one calf on the back of the couch, letting the other dangle along the edge of the couch. He placed his hand on the girl's hand-with which she only too happily shielded her genitals-and began massaging it, working it back and forth, purring, 'Relax. Concentrate on touching yourself and relaxing."
Heinrich continued to control her hand for her until the hand began to move of its own accord. She massaged her pussy, eyes closed, breathing easily now, listening to the whir of the camera near her face.
"That's a good girl," Heinrich said. "Now give us desire! Start yearning!"
Cassie frowned. Her tongue peeped out between her lips as she tried to conceive what to do.
"Desire," Heinrich said. "Like this." So saying, he insinuated his chubby finger between hers, then slid it with ease into her dank creamy depths. The girl felt an onslaught of nausea, but when he withdrew his finger, she felt suddenly incomplete
-hollow. He withdrew it only to part her buttocks with his other hand and "force the tip of his highly lubricated finger into the tight ring of her anus. She squealed and contracted her anal spincter with all her might. But this was to no avail against the invasion as Heinrich purred, "Relax, relax," and wiggled his finger; when her muscle began to give, he shoved his finger in to its hilt as the girl gasped in pain. She was too numbed with surprise at first to realize that at the same time he had shoved his thumb into the creamy depths of her cunt. She didn't realize what a thorough grip he had on her until he began to rub his thumb and middle finger together in the twin tunnels, as if he was trying to test the thickness (rather, the thinness) of the linings of each channel; and at that moment, when she realized just how helpless she was, her cunt began to throb.
"Desire," Heinrich growled, "give us desire," motioning to the cameraman, who trained his camera on Cassie's doubly penetrated crotch. He focused it on the two rings-her puffy inner lips surrounding the fat upper joint of his thumb and the tighter pink ring of her anus.
The cold clamminess of his hand made her nauseous, but when he began to move his thumb and finger in and out, still flexing them as if trying to touch them together in spite of the linings separating them, the throbbing heat of her own pussy quieted the nausea; it was a throbbing coupled with a new and deeply tickling sensation that she didn't know how to handle.
She was touched so deeply and so thoroughly that she began to moan dizzily, moving her hips to get more of it, using her braced legs to buck herself. Her tendons flexed with each movement, making her thighs quiver, and she bucked so rapidly that the whole lower part of her body was in constant motion. The camera recorded every jiggle, and the floodlights made the foam on Heinrich's thumb gleam.
Heinrich withdrew his hand, saying, "Now! Do it yourself! Give us desire!" Then he proceeded to wipe his hand on his handkerchief as Cassie, for a half-second immobilized by the sudden hollow emptiness, snaked an arm behind herself and under her buttocks. Her middle finger came up to rub her puckered anus as if trying to locate it, before finding the center of the ring and squeezing slowly in. At the same time, her other hand shot down to enter her wide "V" from the front, this finger knowing exactly and unhesitatingly where to go, sinking with ease into her creaming pulsating pussy. This finger was soon joined by two others because, now that she knew cock, just one didn't do much for her.
The eye of the camera was not a foot away from this focus of fingers and light; it recorded the girl's right hand widening and beating into her cunt-mouth, and below that the single middle finger of the left hand snaking slowly in and out of her anus. The camera was pulled back and lowered almost to the couch so that it caught not only that double action, but caught her swaying breasts as well. Visible between her parted tits was her head. It was thrown back in a wanton portrait of unsated lust. Cassie moaned through parted lips, her teeth clenched, breath coming unevenly.
Heinrich stood by her head, urging her on in syrupy tones, "That's real good desire, honey. Keep it up....Let it get just a little bit out of control now."
The naked blond youth stood between Heinrich and the cameraman, looking down on the girl's body, and thoughtfully stroking his erect penis. Goddamn nice piece of ass, he was thinking, I'd fuck it. even if I didn't get the fifty dollars. Eyebrows raised, he glanced at Heinrich. The director nodded.
The youth stared down at the girl's gyrating body. He was so worked up at the sight of her all-out frigging herself that he wanted to fuck her right away, but he knew that he would have to put it off a while-for benefit of the camera. He tapped the cameraman on the shoulder as Heinrich backed away. The cameraman turned the lens to the youth, moving it slowly away from Cassie, so that the youth's very erect penis entered the viewfinder first, then his golden pubic region. His cock stuck straight out and was as tan as the rest of him. His glans, protected most of the time by his foreskin, was a rich red velvet. When the camera moved up the youth's slender torso to his face, the boy smiled and slowly licked his lips ... in desire.
The camera followed the boy's lips as he knelt and leaned over Cassie's breast-a smooth white tit whose skin in the flooding light was translucent with a tiny blue vein near the surface. The nipple was erect and puckered up for a kiss. Before applying his lips, however, he squeezed it in both hands for a moment as though he were a kid who didn't want to drop his snow-cone. At the touch of his hands, Cassie arched her back to thrust her eager breast higher and more tightly into his hands as he kneaded its pliable flesh.
"Okay, now. I want to see desire raging out of control," said Heinrich. "Try to convince a movie fan that you've lost hold of yourself." But Cassie may not really have needed any further prompting.
The youth began to mouth her nipple, sucking it in between his lips, then drawing his head back several inches, giving her tit something of a stretch before letting the nipple slide slowly out and settle back into place. He let go of her breast with his hands and continued to mouth her, sucking the nipple-now glistening with saliva-into his mouth, then shaking his head to demonstrate for the camera just how nicely her tit jiggled before he let it slide out of his mouth. He then drew his lips back, and the camera caught his teeth as they slowly clamped down on the nipple, biting it lightly as he flicked the hardened half-inch point briskly back and forth with his tongue. Cassie arched and re-arched her back and rolled her chest into his face.
He traced his hands lightly over her tummy, then tugged her hand away from her fevered cunt and drew it to his cock. Her fingers wrapped around it like a babe's around a bottle, and she immediately began pushing it in the direction of her crotch. The boy had a little something else in mind first, though, and knelt between her legs. The camera, poised halfway between her knee and his cheek, caught the pink tip of his tongue as it snaked out to dabble about her clitoris before he pulled her apart with his thumbs and slowly mouthed the whole rubied puffy ridge of her inner lips. Then he reared his head back two inches or so, using the suction of his mouth to pull the lips of her pussy out from their normal hiding place. Cassie was nearly going out of her mind. She had long since forgotten there was an audience. Now he began tongue-fucking the writhing girl in earnest. His hot red tongue drove in and out of that clasping orifice as though it were a very small blunt red prick. Cassie raised her legs high in the air and put her hands beneath her knees in support-opening her cunt even further to him. The camera recorded it all. The boy peeled back her pussy lips with his nose, to expose her clitoris. He clamped down with his teeth to hold it captive, flicking it briskly with the edges of his tongue. Cassie's moans turned to animal screams of unendurable pleasure.
Heinrich truly regretted that the film was not in sound.
Now the boy put his arm across the back of the couch, bracing himself and leaving space between them for the camera. He touched the tip of his penis to her creamy center. Cassie's long-active finger slid out of her asshole as, feet planted on the far edges of the couch and knees widespread, she lifted her pelvis in offering to him. She lifted in vain, however, as he backed his hips. Then, taking aim on her wiggling center, he inserted his thick stiff cock only until its glans was barely covered, then just as quickly withdrew again. The camera watched his cock slide beneath her clitoris and fur-lined pussy lips, which stretched in greeting. Then, with little lunges, he plunged into the socket between her legs, her cunt muscles tightening in a ring around the broad base of his instrument.
Cassie, who had been holding her breath, gasped. She had been holding her pelvis aloft so long that her leg muscles began to give, and she now lowered herself-but not for long, for she quickly, almost reflexively, thrust herself up again as he lunged. Each time she lowered herself, the fleshy shaft joining them gleamed in the lights. Then she snapped her spine, and with a smooth mutual thrust they joined, coupling with such force that his testicles slapped her anus at the same time as his thick yellow pubic mat was entwined with her wispier golden one. The camera caught their taut stomach muscles as they strained to become one body.
Cassie had thrown her arms back in abandonment. The boy continued to hold his body aloft from hers, but he dropped his free hand to her breast, which he fumbled like a wad of Jell-O before managing to grasp it tightly. On her next lunge, Cassie bucked the bottom half of her body and threw her legs up and around him, her heels coming down hard in the small of his back. She used this new leverage to work her overheated cunt up and down, up and down, with greater rapidity on his now-captive cock. Her deeper vaginal muscles all tightened around him as he held still for a moment just to let her grind herself up onto his raw, throbbing cock.
Then abruptly she was there. "I'm cumming," she began screaming, "I'M CUMMING!" Down there in the center of her being a deeppool of warmth and peace rapidly spread out in ever-widening ripples of pleasure. Within seconds, the seismic waves had shorted out her ganglions and nerve centers, and her body was jerking uncontrollably like someone in the throes of a holy fit. "I'M CUMMING," she screamed again, and her fingernails scratched long bloody furrows on his shoulders and back.
The surprised youth glanced over at Heinrich, who merely nodded his head once. The film director's heavy-lidded eyes immediately flashed back to the wildly writhing figure of the girl moaning out her ecstatic release. He could actually see her cunt clasping and unclasping against the tree-like trunk of the boy's cock. Then, after three or four quick jabs into the heart of her femaledom, the blond youth stiffened. His eyes rolled as he experienced his own not-to-be-denied moment of ecstasy. His balls painfully ballooned, expanded to a super-hot nova stage of stellar creativity and destruction, then began spewing out the white lava in a volcanic eruption of love.
His cock continued to twitch mightily as he filled her with unending spurts of hot jism. Her hands shot up onto the mounds of his upthrust buttocks; she clung to him now with all fours-her heels still planted on his back-and she was suspended from his shaft like a ball as she rocked back and forth. Her rippling cunt milked his contracting testicles of every drop of semen until she b-rimmed over, and spasms wracked her own suspended body as she incoherently blubbered, "Yess, yess, yess," from deep in her throat.
Cassie's hands slid from his ass as he dropped to his elbows and knees. The two of them rested thus in panting, exhausted silence for several moments. Neither of the other men moved. Then, muscles still twitching, Cassie's legs unlocked themselves from his hips. When she dropped her pelvis to the couch, her cunt was still contracted about his rapidly deflating cock. That hearty instrument stretched to breaking before the boy yelped in pain. "Jesus, you're a tight little bitch," he complained. He lay there atop her for a couple of minutes until he heard Heinrich clear his throat impatiently.
The youth immediately got up and began to dress, whistling to himself as he faced the corner of the room. Red streaks began to appear where Cassie's fingernails had gouged deep furrows on either side of the cleft of his ass.
Heinrich lit up a cigar and poured himself a shot of Madeira, never taking his little pig-like eyes from the girl's naked body.
The cameraman, after getting a quick shot of the cum seeping out of Cassie's cunt and her hairs matted down on either side from her own froth, unplugged the lights and removed a cylinder of film from the camera.
Cassie opened her eyes when the blinding lights went off and looked around the room. Heinrich saw that she was once again alert, and brought her a glass of Madeira.
"Was I convincing?" she asked, sitting up.
"Yes," Heinrich said. Then, thinking quickly, he added, "That is, toward the end you were extremely convincing. At first you were nervous, as you know, and that may have ruined the whole test."
He glanced up and saw the blond youth, now dressed, standing impatiently by the door. "Just a minute," he said, "and I'll tell you what we can do about it."
Heinrich walked over to the youth and stepped outside with him, where he handed him a fifty-dollar bill, saying, "I'll give you a call when I need you again."
When he reappeared at the door, he said, "Harvey, I want you to stay for a little while, if you can. I think we might have to give her another little test."
Harvey sat down and lit up a cigarette, smiling broadly through his beard.
Cassie sipped the sweet wine, then drank it all, feeling a strange tingle in her throat, spreading up to the base of her brain. Seeing her glass was empty, Heinrich brought the silver inlaid decanter and refilled her glass. She again gulped it down, and he refilled it once more.
Cassie had never had anything stronger than lemonade in the past. Her father sometimes came home smelling funny, but she had never seen anyone drink an alcoholic beverage before, except in the movies. Thus she did not even know that this liquid she drank, which was both fiery and sweet, contained alcohol. Anyway, she had worked up a thirst.
"As I said, sweetheart, the last part of your test was convincing-in fact, it leads me to suspect that you have real talent. I'll have to wait for the rushes, of course, but there was something impressive about it. My only hope is-and you should hope, too-that your extreme anxiety at the beginning didn't ruin the whole thing." He paused for a minute, puffing on his stogie, to let this sink in.
Cassie realized that she had somehow become dizzy-dizzy and warm-but she caught the drift of what Heinrich told her and frowned, licking her lips with her wine-stained tongue.
"If you're up to it," Heinrich offered, "we could give you another test. We could make it a very short one. Think of it as taking out insurance. If you're willing to show us another facet of your talent and if you do well, then it won't matter so much even if the rushes do show your anxiety. Do you understand this?"
"Uh-huh," she said, burping, feeling warmly rosy and capable of understanding anything.
"Okay," he said. "Drink your wine, and I'll tell you what we want to see."
Wine! She had been drinking wine, she suddenly realized. No wonder she felt warm. She pursed her lips. Her head reeled, but she felt a gnaw of suspicion. "It won't be the same thing as the last test, will it?"
"No," Heinrich promised, crossing his heart and holding up three fingers. "It'll be completely different."
She gulped down her fourth glass of Madeira. She hoped her head wouldn't reel any faster, since she wanted to pass her test, but she liked the warm feeling and was somehow quite confident she would pass.
"Okay," Heinrich said. "It's a test of your imagination. Do you have a good imagination?"
"Imagination?"
"Yes. Are you good at make-believe?"
"Yes," she said, nodding her head. Of course. Imagination.
"Okay," he said, "come over here and sit down on the floor."
She did as bid and looked askance when he began to remove his trousers, unbuckling them and bracing himself on the table to draw them over his feet. He then dropped his undershorts to the floor and stepped out of them. His belly hung past his crotch; his genitals could not be seen. His legs were hairless.
"What do you want me to use?" Harvey asked, stifling a giggle.
"Nothing," mouthed Heinrich, then said aloud, "Super thirty-two."
Their camera was sixteen millimeter. "I get it," Harvey said. "Technicolor, too."
"Yeah."
Heinrich lay on the floor beside Cassie. His paunch settled back, spreading to the sides and revealing dangling genitalia beneath a small patch of tightly curled black hairs.
Harvey banged the camera and turned it on; without film, it whirred a bit faster, sounding hollow.
"Okay, dear," said Heinrich, "I am interested in how well you make believe. I want you to make believe you are eight years old. How long ago were you eight?"
"Ten years," she lied after some thought.
"Okay, then. You're eight years old. It's a very hot day. And this," he said, picking his penis up with his thumb and forefinger and wiggling it, "this is a popsicle. You haven't had a popsicle for a long time."
Cassie giggled. Numb as her reeling mind was, she knew that this was silly. So silly that it was outrageous. For a moment she began to get mad. Then she said, "If I take this test, will you promise to put me in a movie?"
Behind her, Harvey smiled broadly.
"Absolutely," he said, crossing his heart again and holding up the same three fingers, his thumb pressing his little finger down. "Just as long as you're not nervous."
She wasn't the least bit nervous. She was confident that she could make believe it was a popsicle if she wanted to. And if one more little test would give her a sure-fire start in moving pictures, she guessed she wanted to. With being a movie star such a short step away, she smiled into the camera, which Harvey was pointing at her, then looked down at his limp member.
"Do you want me to bite off the end and chew it up?" she asked, suspecting that that wasn't what he wanted at all.
"Not quite," he said hastily. "It's the only popsicle you'll get today. Lick it and suck it, but don't bite."
She looked at it, not an inch from her nose, then picked it up and casually licked the end of it. It was cool on her tongue and had no taste. Heinrich relaxed his knees, spreading them about a foot and a half; even with his knees spread, the tops of his blubbery thighs came together. Cassie scooted her own knees wider apart, wanting as much as possible to avoid contact with his damp cool skin. However, her breasts continued to dangle against the fleshiest part of his thighs, a contact that made her flesh crawl, her nipples stiffening involuntarily and their points pressing into him.
With a sigh, resolving not to get nervous, she drew the long limp thing into her mouth, partly sucking it in and partly stuffing it in with her fingers. Idly beginning to suck on it, squishing it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue, she opened her eyes to see the camera not a foot away from her working jaws. She winked at it. Harvey, peering from behind the camera, winked back.
Heinrich's prick began to stir and poked her tonsils. Her head popped back several inches, her lips in a tight ring around his cock. Heinrich put a hand on each side of her head to hold her steady. She moved her tongue rapidly against his growing rod as if trying to spit it out, making it grow all the more. Grunting, she shut her eyes to concentrate on make-believe.
Once stiff, his prick was not so unimpressive; warm now, it filled her and almost choked her. Heinrich began to rock her head up and down. Her ears began to ring.
On his knees, Harvey crawled around her, wanting another look at her cunt. With her legs spread and her head held down, her pussy stuck up all to vulnerably. In the center of her, puffing out beyond the hollows with their matted fleece, her rubied lips glistened and her vagina gaped open at least a quarter of an inch.
Harvey dug his thumb tips into the folds of skin on either side of the orifice, then spread them. Cassie groaned, wiggling her head a little more in protest. A blissful look stole over Heinrich's face. Harvey peered closely into her gaping cuntmouth, his eye probing the little ridges, still creamy, and the beginning of a pool of cum.
Harvey's prick had been stiff all through the filming, and was now stiffer than ever. He laid the camera aside, giving up all pretense of filming. Quick as a wink he tugged his Levi's down over his boots; he didn't wear underwear and his cock stood out achingly in front of him. He straddled Heinrich's knees, forcing the girl's legs farther apart with his own. He placed his hands on her hips, gripped them and shoved her forward slightly, before flexing his cock to the right angle. Then, brutally, he pulled her back with all his burly force! Her warm pussy enveloped him. God, he thought, the kid was right; this is a tight little pussy. Cassie groaned through her nose when, shoved forward, she gagged on Heinrich's cock, and again when, pulled back, Harvey impaled her to the hilt with one thrust of his bursting cock.
Harvey locked her hips in place as he rammed into her, marveling all the 'vhile at the round warm globes of her ass against his hairy thighs. Each time he jabbed deep, her body shot forward a bit-like a pinball hit by the plunger in a pinball machine-cramming Heinric's cock far into her throat, gagging her and bringing tears to her eyes. Her breasts were squashed on the director's clammy thighs, her nipples tingling unabashedly. In addition, grinning like a dead chipmunk, Heinrich had begun to rotate his rotund hips.
She had stiff pricks sticking mercilessly into each end of her. One of the men held her head, and the other her hips: she was being brutalized, and was helpless to do anything about it. With one secret part of her mind, she had been make-believing ahead to being a movie star, but now her full attention was focused on the two cocks, first on one and then the other, her mind working like an alternating circuit, an overloaded alternating circuit. Heat began to build inexorably in her cunt, and she had no control over it. Saliva drooled out of one corner of her mouth and dripped into Heinrich's mat of tight curls.
She began to anticipate the stresses-Heinrich's prick plowing her mouth and Harvey's her cunt, churning her channel as his balls slapped underneath just as she was pinballed forward again; at the same time her toes tingled, her mind reeled, and she felt shocks all up and down her spine. Partly in reaction to the shocks and growing ache in her cunt, and partly in self-defense against the double battering, she began to buck her body. She arched her back suddenly with each thrust from the rear. She found herself gripping Heinrich's cock more firmly with her mouth to prevent its sliding quite so far down her throat, tightening her lips into a thinly compressed ring and wiggling her tongue as much and as wildly as humanly possible with her mouth so full. At the same time she ground her cunt with increasing force against Harvey as if that were a way of getting a better grip on what was happening behind her.
Before long she began to wag her ass rapidly from side to side, gyrating her pussy to test the limberness of Harvey's cock and twisting her mouth in semi-circles as she sucked Heinrich for all she was worth. Her breasts flopped with audible smacks back and forth across the director's thighs, her whole upper torso crawling now from the clammy contact, but her nipples tingling more than ever.
Two overheated cocks at once were almost too much for one young girl to bear. Thinking that she couldn't keep it up for a second longer without exploding inside or wanting to scream, she arched her belly toward the floor and put all the tongue-tingling pressure she could on the cock in her mouth, whipping her head wildly from side to side as if she were trying to rip it out by the roots. During the whole time she kept her cunt canted up for Harvey, and spread her legs even more to allow him to plunder her throbbing pussy with greater ease. He pounded into her with enough force to send her over the threshold. When she felt her climax taking hold of her, she cradled Heinrich's hairless testicles with one hand and reached her other hand between her legs to grab Harvey's bigger scrotum. She moaned continuously through her nose as she squeezed both men's balls, grinding her hips down hard on Harvey-clenching her buttocks as her cunt muscles contracted on him without letting go. Both men came at once. She gobbled at Heinrich, her cheeks filling as he spewed hot thick spurts of cum into her open throat too fast to swallow. Her cheeks ballooned; then the cum bubbled out of her mouth and dripped down her chin. She stayed clenched on Harvey, her buttocks pumping as he rode her almost to the floor with one backbreaking lunge after another, throwing his cum into the deepest heart of her femaledom ... all the while shouting joyously.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Who was that?" she asked, once Jerry had hung up the phone, having heard him refer to a "her" several times during the course of the conversation.
"Heinrich."
"Did he have anything to say?"
"Of course," he said, picking up his newspaper and smiling to himself.
"What?" she asked, becoming impatient.
"He wanted to invite us on a picnic," he teased.
"Is that all?"
"What did you expect him to say?" he asked.
"Well, what do you think?" she said, catching on that she was being teased.
"He said your screen test was so good," Jerry said, speaking quietly, "that he's decided to make a movie out of it and show it in the theaters."
"Out of that!?" she cried, perplexed, her mouth dropping open.
"Why, yes...."
"But how can he? I didn't know they'd let anyone make a movie out of that," she cried. "That?"
"Yes!" she cried. "They don't let them show things like that!"
"Oh, that," Jerry said. "Don't worry about it."
"What are they going to do with it?" she wailed.
"Calm down," he said. "Calm down. There's nothing to worry about. First, Heinrich's a good film editor."
"Film editor?"
"Yes, a film editor edits film, obviously. He takes his little pair of scissors and cuts out any part of it that he doesn't like. Then he tapes the film back together so that you never know it's missing. It happens to every movie ever made."
"Oh," she said, crinkling her brow as she thought about what he was going to leave in the movie, wondering what was left to see after that had been cut out of it.
As if reading her mind, Jerry said, "He thinks you have a beautiful and immensely expressive face."
"Oh," she said, oddly pleased. "That's not all he likes," Jerry added, half under his breath. "What?"
"I was going to say ... Second, he's going to make it into an art film. He thinks it'll make a good one."
"What kind of film?"
"Art films, underground cinema, avant-garde, and even hard-core-they're all the same. I explained to you about it, how it's different from Hollywood."
"Oh," she said, trying to remember just what he'd said.
"Anyway, in art films you have more freedom than you do with Hollywood flicks. That's the big difference."
"Freedom how?"
"Freedom to make the kind of film you want without a lot of bourgeois restraints. Today you have the freedom to do just about anything you want as long as you do it tastefully. And that's where you come in-you help make it tasteful."
"Oh," she said, pleased. "How do I do that?"
"By being so damned beautiful," he said.
She blushed. She knew he was just teasing her, but she was pleased anyway.
"Also, doing it this way, you have freedom from the Hollywood system. It makes everything a lot easier-for instance, if you'd taken your first screen test in Hollywood, you'd probably have had fifteen or twenty people watching you. If you don't think that would have made you nervous ... "
Cassie nodded her head and shuddered inwardly at the thought ... three people watching her had been just about all she could handle. Any more than that and ... well, she saw that she would have to have a lot more experience actually acting before she could handle that many!
"Anyway, I didn't tell you the best part," he said.
"What's that?" she said, pleased she was going to have an even better surprise.
"He's going to make another ... he's going to make a movie tomorrow, and he wants you to star in it."
Cassie beamed. Her lips parted and she licked them. Last week, her screen test-tomorrow, she'd be a star! After a moment, she asked, hesitantly, as if afraid of what the answer was going to be without quite knowing why she was afraid, "Wh-what's the movie going to be about?"
"It's a Western," he said.
She was immensely relieved. Why, she had seen lots and lots of cowboy movies. She'd know just what to do. "Shouldn't I start memorizing my part?"
Jerry frowned and thought, "No, I don't think so. I mean, you'll have lines, sure, But not so many that you can't memorize them right before each scene."
Oh boy! Real lines and real scenes! Cassie's spirit soared.
Seeing from her glazed look that she was in flight, Jerry stood up and ambled into the bathroom, leaving her alone on the couch, all alone with her make-believe as she began to rock gently back and forth.
After a few minutes, she started, then looked around herself as she focused her eyes and realized that Jerry was gone. "Jerry! Jerry!" she called.
"Just a minute," he called back. "I'm in the John."
But she couldn't wait just a minute. She had to know right now! She jumped up and ran to the bathroom door, yelling through the door because she wanted to know right now: "Do a good guy and a bad guy get into a showdown gunfight over me?" she cried, wanting to know just exactly what sort of heroine she was going to be.
"Not exactly," Jerry yelled. "Just a minute, will ya?"
Cassie had to wait for a seemingly endless minute-it was possibly several minutes by the clock-before she heard the toilet flush and the tap water run, and Jerry emerged.
"No," he said. "I don't think there are any gunfights. All I know is how it begins-from there they'll probably play it by ear, to a certain extent. Freedom. Art." He paused, thinking, then added, "I think this is the situation when the movie begins, and it's all Heinie had time to tell me: You've been traveling across the plains with your family in a wagon, and you've become separated from the rest of a wagon train, or something like that. Anyway, you're out there all alone when the Indians attack and kill all your family except you, and they don't kill you because one of the braves wants you for his woman, his squaw. Anyway, the hero comes along and rescues you. It's a small band of Indians, I guess, but he surprises them ... or something ... and chases them off just as your brave is about to become violent with you because you won't cooperate or something like that. Anyway, the hero comes along, and he chases the Indians off-I guess he fires a few shots and takes them by surprise or something. But he rescues you, and that's the important thing. That's how the movie begins. Then I guess you'll have lovers' quarrels as you cross the plains. You get the picture."
Cassie got the picture, and it suited her just fine: A Frontier Romance Full of Hardship and Wild Peril.
Shortly after noon the next day someone in the background yelled, "Take one," and the film began rolling. Cassie stood strapped between two wagon wheels on an old covered wagon, her arms and legs tied in four different directions, lashed to different points on the opposing wagon wheels. Eight feet away from her, a wild Indian with paint on his nose rummaged through a trunk, pulling out some glass beads which he held up to admire. A bald old man with catsup on his head lay ten feet or so in the opposite direction, clutching a feathered arrow in his armpit, pretending to be dead. The solitary Indian had a catsup-doused toupee tied to a rope belt which just barely held up his only garment, a loincloth.
They were on location south of San Francisco.
The entire crew was hidden in some sand dunes not far from the ocean; they had picked sand dunes because they resembled the prairie, and the ocean was not in view.
Cassie concentrated, trying to remember her lines. They were to be spoken when she got her cues. Her first line was: "No, no! You brutal savage!" and then she was to fall into a dead faint.
Her second line was: "Oh, you've saved me! How can I ever repay you?"
Her third line was: "No, not that!"
Her fourth line was: "No!"
Her fifth line was "No!"
Her sixth line was "No!"
Her seventh line was: "Yes, anything!"
What she had to remember, in short, was the two longer speeches; and then when "a vile request" (her cue) was made of her, she had to remember to say "No!" to it four times before saying "Yes." She wanted to succeed; she prayed she didn't muff her lines.
After putting the beads around his neck, the Indian walked over to Cassie and yanked on her hair, staring evilly into her eyes for a moment before placing his hands at the neck of her dress, gripping the fabric.
This was her cue. She cried, "No! No! You brutal savage!" saying the lines perfectly; and then, as per instructions, she fell into a dead faint. She had careful instructions to stay in her dead faint until she had been rescued.
She dropped her head to the side and shut her eyes, letting her mouth fall open.
With one great yank and the consequent rending of fabric, the savage pulled the front of her dress away, baring her to the waist. This wasn't one of her cues; it took all of the self-discipline and will to succeed Cassie could muster to stay in her dead faint as the savage manipulated her breasts, tearing at them and squeezing them this way and that as her nipples stiffened and tingled from the irritation. Moments later he lowered his face to rub her ail-too pointed sensitized nipples on his eyelids; he did it so softly that they began to tingle for an entirely different reason than irritation. The savage then sucked on each tender breast with special vigor, almost chewing on them and trailing saliva from one to the other and back again. Cassie to her horror felt her pussy lubricating itself from all this suckling, and she squirmed in discomfort, wishing that her hero would hurry along so she could awake from her dead faint. (It had been explained to her that back in those days no Christian woman would dare be conscious in the eyes of God when a savage threatened her virtue; she hadn't quite understood, but with the mention of God she knew it was a serious picture.) Without further ado, the savage clawed at her petticoats, pulling them up about her waist to clutch the globes of her ass as he grunted frightfully and thrust himself against her. He jerked his loincloth aside. Within seconds the grunting savage's grimly erect cock was battering at the hollows between her thighs, poking everywhere in blind fury before hitting a spot of wetness and wedging in. With a piercing hyena yell he straightened his knees, driving his ungodly gristly cock straight into her unready cunt with the one fearful plunge. A low shriek from deep in her throat escaped the girl's lips, as she really did black out for a moment, coming to consciousness only with the rattling of her own teeth as the man fucked into her without letup. Her unwilling cunt released more of its creamy liquid, bedewing the savage cock and churning into foam.
Cassie, frightened of the totally animal fire generating from her cunt and warming her bones, cheated by peeking out of one eye to see if her hero was coming. She saw no one, not even the cameraman, for which she was thankful. She had no way of knowing that the camera caught the glisten of every drop of sweet liquid seeping from her ravaged cunt to become a creamy froth about the base of the savage's thick, barbarian cock; that the camera caught her thigh muscles which began to flex without volition; that from its vantage point beneath the wagon right behind her the camera captured the involuntary grinding movement of her pelvis as she began to eagerly thrust it against the naked howling savage. Soon the movement of her cunt was as rapid and reflexive as that of his cock. She was being fucked into insensibility, and so powerful were the overwhelming sensations that she lost all thought of the movie-making process and reacted "naturally." Her head hanging to one side now more from nervous exhaustion than discipline, Cassie's chest heaved as she felt the savage clutch her posterior globes with such vigor that it seemed her ass was on the verge of being ripped apart at the seams. Her tits flattened like eiderdown pillows as the Indian beat his own hard chest against the soft cushions of her breasts. He ripped at her helplessly spread ass cheeks as he bent his knees under her to grind his cock in tight circular motions, digging the burning twitching thing as far into her as it would go. Then she felt it growing inside of her, seeming to fill her overstretched cavity even more. The Indian gave one bloodcurdling yell as he began to shoot his hot cum as deeply as possible into her; there it touched a nerve and ignited a series of her own spasms, which shook her entire body as she came, nerves popping like a string of firecrackers. It wasn't in the script, but Cassie found her lust constricted throat screaming, "I'm cumming! Oh, God, I'm cumming."
Contemptuously, the savage pulled his prick out, wiped it off on her petticoats, stuffed it back into his loincloth, hopped on his pony and rode away. Cassie was left shuddering, faint, empty, and all but naked, her dress torn to shreds and bunched about her waist. The camera was focused on her cunt-lips, from which sperm and her own fluid had begun to drip, falling drop by drop into the sand. She had taken a dozen deep breaths and had almost regained her breath when her ears picked up the sound of hoofbeats. The cameraman crawled out from beneath the wagon to photograph the arrival across the sand dune of the girl's savior, a burly hunk of a man spurring a swayback nag which cantered awkwardly around the wagon. The muscular cowboy dismounted in front of the girl. He ambled over to her, patted her cheek, pulled up an eyelid to gaze into an ostensibly vacant eyeball, rolled both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, then fell to his knees, poking his head forward between her widespread thighs to peer closely at her dripping cunt. He tongued her clitoris, moving his head from side to side and nuzzling her wispy muff, then rocked back on his heels, but not before Cassie had begun to squirm, wishing he'd hurry up and untie her so she could come out of her faint and begin the romance.
Casually, he drew a knife from its sheath and cut her arms free, catching the weakened girl by her breasts as she fell forward, her feet still fastened. One burly arm across her chest, he held her up as he stooped to cut the rope binding her left ankle, then let her body slip to the ground. This was Cassie's cue: her eyelids fluttered open as she looked into his face to say, "Oh, you've saved me! How can I ever repay you?"
The cowboy pursed his lips and thought for a minute, then unbuttoned his pants, saying, "You've given me a whale of a hard-on; I suppose the first thing you can do is suck my cock."
Cassie looked at his cock and gulped. It was the biggest, thickest cock she had ever seen, with thick pulsating blue veins, mottled skin, and a glans so fleshy it looked sore and swollen. She didn't know if she could even get it into her mouth. She had no trouble remembering her next line and said it with genuine feeling: "No, not that!"
"We'll see about that," the cowboy sneered.
Leaving her prone on the ground, he sauntered over to a cactus growing not far from the foot of the wagon. He broke a long sharp thorn from the plant and walked back. Cassie frowned, with no idea what was coming but aware she had to say "No!" three more times.
Kneeling, he grasped her arm just above the elbow and, in spite of the girl's attempt to hold it to herself, he lifted it as easily as a toothpick. He pressed the thorn to her flesh and slowly drew it over her skin, leaving a thin three-inch red line across the inside of her armpit; he then moved his attention to the side of her breast where he made a similar scratch while Cassie bit her tongue in agony.
"Will you suck it now?" he asked.
"No!" she cried, conscious that she had two mandatory refusals left her.
Pursing his lips, the cowboy took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and, with a frown, placed the point of the thorn against the edge of the red ring of her areola. He inserted it ever so slightly, just enough to squeeze out a drop of blood, which he smeared onto his thumb and held up before her frightened eyes. "What do you say now?"
"No!" she cried, glad that she only had to say "No" once more, but wishing she could say "Yes" right now.
He shrugged, picked up her other breast and, as the girl threw her head back and gasped into the lens of the camera, he slowly shoved the thorn directly into the center of the point of her nipple, just far enough so that when he let go of her breast, the thorn stood there, embedded. "Well?" he asked.
Cassie looked down at the thorn and blanched, looking for a moment as if she would vomit, but with fierce grit and determination and will to succeed and be a movie star, she blurted, "No!" She was very thankful that this was the last time she would have to refuse him.
But as if he hadn't read the script, the cowboy seemed to get mad, saying, "You're a stubborn lass, aren't you? You'll soon know better than to refuse Big John."
Cassie shuddered, her eyes pleading with him to remember that now she could say "Yes," but he gripped her legs and pulled her toward the wheel her right ankle was still bound to. Then he bent her backwards over the wheel. Now her legs were spread even farther apart, and she found herself helplessly spread-eagled over the wagon wheel. Her cunt winked at the camera, and the insides of her thighs glistened from the savage's cum. Big John inspected her pussy, his mean eyes running over her with malevolent lust. As if she was not widespread enough to accommodate everyone's curiosity, he twisted her ankle and pushed it out about a foot and a half. The camera followed, seeing all-seeing her pouting mound rising like a golden grassy knoll out of the white quarry of her legs, seeing her succulent buttocks flattened against the wheel. Then the camera moved in for a close-up to view the moist pink outer lips of her pussy pulled taut and her shell-like pearl-pink inner folds glistening with moisture. Another twist on her leg and the cunt parted to reveal the walls of her vagina, its ridges yet shinier with slickness. The tip of her clitoris, forced from its protection of folds, stood out nakedly, defenseless.
Stretched to the point of breaking, Cassie feared her hip sockets would pop. She began weeping, but then took a deep breath-her childlike eyes wide in anticipated agony-as Big John reached for his thorn. Her lips silently formed the phrase, "No-please, oh, no!" She would die before she got to say her next line.
The big cowboy, who looked more like a blacksmith or weightlifter, had no intention of maiming or hurting the girl. An expert, he did not even draw blood as he traced the thorn over her most sensitive parts, applying its point only enough to remind her that it had a point, pricking the outermost layer of skin. That was enough for the desired theatrical effect. The camera recorded her pink anus contracting in fear as her cunt was tickled. Cassie began to wail when Big John stroked her sensitive vaginal lips with the spike. The whirling camera recorded her vagina emitting its lacteal fluid, and her belly contracting spasmodically as her fear-taut breasts wobbled.
Big John grinned wickedly, then nudged the nub of her clitoris up with the tip of his forefinger and merely laid the wicked implement across it before giving the quivering girl her next cue: "You ready to show a man proper respect?"
"Yes, anything!" she cried.
She showed proper respect, too. The cocks of fifty thousand movie-goers would, in the near future, twitch as Big John pulled her to her knees and then began tugging at the remnants of her dress. Obediently, Cassie lifted her arms high so he could draw it over her head. She kneeled there, naked, helpless and fearfully subservient, watching as the hulk of a man removed his buckskin trousers. Then he grabbed her lifeless arms and put her hands on his hairy buttocks, forcing Cassie's head back. "All right, gal, open your mouth and start sucking my cock." The quivering girl looked down over her nose at the giant bulbous prick and its monstrous glans, already oozing a viscous liquid from its opening. Fearfully, she moved her tender pink oral cavity forward onto it, closing her eyes as its fleshy head slid past her uvula and compressed the back of her tongue. The cock lodged in the narrowness of her throat as its width stretched her jaws to the breaking point. Her lips compulsively clamped around it in a soft moist ring. Her mouth felt as if she had a large hot cucumber stuck in it. She moaned and her eyelids fluttered as the big man braced himself against the wagon. Her mouth was so full she could hardly think, but the heat emanating from the frightful weapon sent fire into her brain, lighting up her body's central nervous system. She began to feel desire again. Big John's lips parted in a grin of lust as Cassie began to move her tongue from side to side across the tender underside of his thrusting cock. Her impaled head moved in slow circles and her young girl's body moved sinuously against his sturdy muscular legs. He reached a hand down to rock her head gently back and forth on his tightly clamped cock. Loud slurping noises drowned out the sound of insects humming in the afternoon. Once, when Big John shoved forward viciously, Cassie choked and gagged, and she was sure he was trying to punch her tonsils down the back of her throat. Then, as Big John began growling like a wildcat, Cassie reached up and stroked the skin on either side of his hairy ass cleft with her fingertips. Suddenly, with one loud moan, he thrust his cock deep into the soft confines of her hot, wet mouth, and the cum came boiling out of his huge testicles. Her cheeks puffed out like a squirrel with mumps, and her throat convulsed in an attempt to swallow it all. She really didn't want to let any escape, but there was simply too much of its spurting thickness-it shot in jets from each corner of her mouth, dribbling across her chin to drip-drop-drip on her uncovered, quivering breasts.
The camera revealed her wanton expression; she seemed fired up by his mammoth spending. As his cock deflated, Cassie now had the latitude to move her head and lips and tongue with greater ease; she began to suck at his dwindling prick with frenzied vigor, as if that might satisfy the fire burning in her own loins.
But Big John wouldn't let her keep that up very long. He frowned, held the overeager girl's head steady, and gave his hips a yank backwards. She continued to suck with such vigor that his prick stretched a few inches before it began to slide out. When its head passed between her lips, she opened her mouth and wagged her tongue after it, trying to give it one last grateful lick.
Then, as the girl rocked disconsolately back to sit on her heels, she spread her knees slightly and-face flushed with a thin thread of semen connecting her parted lips-her hand shot between her legs. Her torso began to sway as her finger wormed its eager way up and down that fiery valley of desire.
The big man found his knife, and in one swipe of the blade cut the girl's leg free from the wheel. In one smooth motion, he picked Cassie up and spun her over. For a moment, the girl's legs were widespread as her knees dangled against his shoulders-but that flash of time was all he needed to pull her crotch up to his nose and bury his thick bristling tongue in her twitching brown little anus. "Aggghh," Cassie screamed in sudden delight. The camera stayed on his tongue as he worked it in and out of the pulsating opening.
Cassie's body went slack in wanton weakness, but as he continued to poke the breadth of his tongue into her asshole, her spine whipped, her buttocks clenched, and she locked her thighs around his neck. The fire had grown intolerable in her loins; she wanted to be fucked-to be released from this exquisite ecstasy. She began to shriekand it wasn't in the script-"Fuck me! Fuck me, somebody!"
She wasn't too heavy for the big man. With his size, he could have held her for half an hour without flagging, but he sagged in mock helplessness back against the wagon. To the camera, it looked as if Cassie were strangling him with her legs. Her buttocks bounced against his whiskery face.
She writhed and continued to moan incoherently as she dangled head down from his shoulders. Unable to move and about to burst, Cassie cruelly grasped his still-limpprick and stuffed it into her mouth. Once again she began to suck, all the while grinding her sensitive breasts into his stomach. Big John raised his mouth from her clasping asshole to take a deep breath. A veteran of many such movies, he thought with amazement, My God, I've never seen such a clean pink hairless little asshole-it even smells clean. Then-although the script didn't call for it-he ran his tongue all along her wide crack from her anus beyond her clitoris and back. Cassie stopped sucking and shrieked with joy, then, feeling empty, sought to return his cock to her lips. It was then Big John brought his hand up and, with a smooth steady force, shoved his middle finger all the way into the struggling girl's rectum.
"Agghhhh," she screamed. Nothing yet had ever been so painful. He was trying to kill her. The swooning girl had been close to cumming, but with this surprise invasion she automatically bit Big John's prick and, as it was yanked from her mouth, she screeched. He caught her by the back of the neck and, turning his middle finger a half-turn in her throbbing rectum, lifted her upright again. He then held her like that for a moment, one hand around her neck and one hand under her crotch with his middle finger buried deep in her asshole, holding her almost at arm's length as she kicked her legs like she was peddling a bicycle.
Big John did a double-take and grinned nastily as he saw his old nag. The Western saddle had a saddle horn rising off it, thin and smooth ... with a big silver-dollar-sized knob on the end. The horn itself stuck up about six inches, and its knob looked like the head of some immense prick. He laughed aloud and carried the squirming Cassie over to the nag and lifted the girl over the saddle as easily as if she had been a rag doll stuffed with feathers. On feeling herself being hoisted onto the saddle, Cassie spread her legs. Her hand automatically shot down and brushed against the saddlehorn. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Big John as if to warn him to be careful of this protrusion ; then she moaned in dismay as she found herself being lowered directly onto it. Big John, his middle finger firmly ensconced within the girl's bowels, had no trouble centering her pussy above the horn. Then he simply let go of her neck. Cassie fell-impaling her seeping cunt on the horn. "Aagghhh!" she cried, as with a wet plop the leather phallus sank through her cuntal lips and out of sight.
"Alyeee!" she shrieked again, as the horse bucked once, and it was impossible to tell if it was a cry of pain or exaltation.
At first numbed and stunned by this second mammoth penetration, the girl didn't know what to do with herself. Then she began struggling to hop off. Left to her own devices she might have been able to free herself, but with Big John's finger searing her bowels she didn't have a chance. If she rocked back the finger was sent deep into her rectum, and if she moved forward the hard leather cock-like object burned ever deeper into the depths of her highly lubricated pussy. She squeezed her knees together, causing the tender skin on the insides of her thighs to rub against the horse's hair. Cassie whinnied and flailed with her arms, jerking spasmodically. She had no way to protect the nerve ends in her cunt, her bowels, or her thighs-all of which were tingling insanely at the brisk nonstop contact. She swayed in the air, her pelvis thrusting back and forth on the saddle horn buried deep in her snatch. She could feel the powerful sensation it was beginning to evoke. It felt as if the giant of all pricks were lodged in there. She found new sensations when she reached both hands back to grip the back edge of the saddle; her back arched. She steadied herself, then steadily-like a child riding a rocking horse-she began to undulate her pelvis to and for, searing her bowels and tortured cunt, encouraging this unnatural invasion. She suddenly began to clench first one buttock, then the other, on Big John's broad hand. Her breasts swayed back and forth and bobbled up and down, jiggling in constant motion.
by now her nipples had become stiff and red, her breasts mottled as she approached an orgasm. Her tits danced insanely in the air as her deeper belly muscles grew taut as steel cables and then began a rippling movement that spread throughout her tortured, helpless body. She was there. There! Now. RIGHT NOW!
Her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a wild grimace of lust, and her teeth were bared like a wild animal's as she began shouting, "Ah!
Ahhhh! I'm cumming. I'M CUMMING!!! Aaaiiiiiieeeee! I'm cumming!" Her breath left her body in one great whoosh, and she began a climatic dance that continued and continued.
Big John watched her in absolute amazement. The bitch really is cumming, he thought. Jesus, he didn't know how she did it. He watched as the throbbing convulsions shook her entire body, and as her cunt contracted on the saddlehorn while her anus was trying to suck up his finger all the way to the wrist.
The camera, which had recorded every tremor of her delightful body, zoomed close in during the final seconds to record the maddened twitching of her clitoris against the deep brown cowhide; it remained focused on the saddlehorn-slick, glistening in the sun, the leather permanently darkened by the penetrating wetness of the girl's hot, viscous cuntal fluid.
Big John, aroused by the girl's quivering body as well as by the muscular movements of snatch and rectum, deftly lifted the girl off the saddle as her arms went weak and her body sagged. He carried her to a small hummock on a large dune which shielded the motion picture crew from an isolated highway.
There, he laid her face down in the sand. Her hips, centered across the mound, were higher than the rest of her body. Big John used his boots to spread her legs wheelbarrow fashion, then knelt down between her knees. His hands on the rich inviting full moons of her buttocks, he spread the soft halves to reveal her anus-once again puck ered in a tight inviting ring. Never relinquishing his hold on her globes, the big cowboy touched the tip of his giant aching prick to the velvety folds of her snatch and twitched it a few times. Thinking that he was going to fuck her there and knowing she would be maimed if she didn't cooperate to accommodate him, Cassie spread her legs out to their utmost. But Big John merely forced his glans between her wet pussy lips, wiggling it about a bit in her passion-dampened cuntal cavern-moistening, lubricating the mammoth drill. He waited as the camera came in closer, and then placed his cock head squarely on her puckered little anus, which shone like a brown star against the alabaster white of her inner cheeks.
He began shoving forward in an effort to force the cudgel past the constricted anal ring.
"Aaaaggghhh, you're hurt-ting meeee," Cassie yelled, knowing the line wasn't in the script, but unable to keep silent as excruciating waves of pain swept over her.
Big John lunged once more, and his slippery cock slid off to one side-leaving a shiny trail of cuntal lubricant in its passing. He shook his massive head in exasperation and then brutally grasped her shoulders with his hands to hold her steady, as he slowly arched his back to thrust his still-centered massive manhood between the hapless girl's cheeks. Now something had to give, and before her shoulders broke her anus caved inward, its ring slowly stretching to admit his glans. But he didn't stop there. He kept right on shoving it in with slow steady force, her rectum slowly giving way before it.
Cassie's breath left her in one continuous shriek of pain. Nothing-absolutely nothing had ever hurt so much-not even her father's belt. "STOP, oh, God! Please-plu-uleeeze ... STOP! You're tearing me there!" It felt as if a hot railroad tie was being hammered into her bowels.
The training grunting cowboy now paused to catch his own breath, and the girl began to writhe beneath him, trying futilely to escape. Before she could gain freedom, the big man grasped her shoulders once more and with the same slow sureness pulled himself all the way into her. In pain, Cassie wiggled in the sand like a sidewinder snake. Speared to the depths of her bowels, she felt as if she'd been set upon by a demon who wanted nothing more than to rip her asunder.
Every tremor in the girl's body registered through her tight anal canal on the big man's cock. The sensation was welcomed by him as he began to buffet her defenseless asshole. His head lolled to one side, and his tongue came out of his mouth in a lewd grin. He gripped her shoulders again and began to shove home with a vengeance. Each time his hips came back, the camera saw the stretched ring of her anal sphincter, so tight around his prick that it seemed sure no man could withstand such constriction.
It took one of the assistant cameramen to get Harvey's attention; he pointed at Big John's face. It was obvious the cowboy was about to go out of his mind in delight. Harvey turned the camera upward, knowing Big John was close.
The cowboy's prick slid along Cassie's rectal passage delightfully, its raw swollen glans absorbing, absorbing. A glazed look came into his eyes, and he began moving with a rapidity one would have thought impossible for a man of his frame.
The movement of his velvety glans on her tender passageway had begun to change from pain to a masochistic pleasure ... a pleasure that rapidly changed to joy as the St. Elmo's fire of an impending orgasm flickered through her nerve endings.
"I'm cumming," Big John grunted, then his prick began to twitch. That was signal enough for Cassie, and her own climax swept through her body with a strength that completely overwhelmed her in its intensity. She couldn't even shout out the joyous message-all she could do was mumble incoherently as consciousness left her. She fainted just as the big man began to fill her with spurt after spurt after spurt of boiling cum, shooting it far up into her bowels, then collapsing weakly onto her.
Cassie still hadn't stirred by the time the big man had roused himself, put on his trousers, mounted his nag, and ridden off into the sinking afternoon sun, whistling "Oh, you'd never hope to meet such a purty little girl...." The girl was left unconscious on the sand dune. All that could be seen of her from the wagon was the upside-down "V" of her widespread legs, and her rubied cunt in the middle, topped by the globes of her ass. Harvey, the cameraman, put away his camera.
When Cassie regained consciousness again, she discovered that her cunt was being stirred by the soft thrusting motions of someone's smooth hard cock. At the exact same moment she felt the prick nosing around in her womb, she felt also the departed cowboy's warm cum saturating her bowels; her anus felt only the welcome relief of the absence of the man's massive inhuman organ. But, in spite of all, there was a warm after-tingle down there. The prick nudging the walls of her cunt actually felt good to her. She opened her eyes to see sand within inches of her face, and beyond this the desolate dune and one solitary cactus standing guard. It didn't occur to her to look over her shoulder to see who was fucking her. It didn't even occur to her that she might be curious who was fucking her. If she'd given it a second's thought, she'd have known that it wasn't the cowboy, but all she thought about was the heat rising in her loins and the cum in her bowels. She was being gently fucked, and it felt real nice for a change.
Tingling warmly all over, Cassie spread her legs wide as they would go and dug her toes into the sand in order to hold her cunt up to be fucked. The prick began to move with greater vigor, loins slapping her buttocks and balls swinging against her pubes. She lifted herself slightly with her forearms to move her overheated cunt back and forth on the churning cock, clenching her buttocks and giving a jerk backward each time the cock tried to leave her. Her breasts trailed to and fro in the sand, their stiff sensitized tips rubbing in the grit, leaving a weird pattern on the desert floor. When her hips were clutched and the cock began to twitch, she clenched her buttocks tight and arched her back to be ridden down. She came, and it was wonderful! Her torso thrashed and breasts flopped on the sand as her central nerve was touched with his hot cum. Then her body went haywire once more as she came a second time. When it was over, she didn't care if she ever got up again. She was tired. She hurt. All over! She began sobbing disconsolately.
After a moment, Harvey pulled her to her feet. He gently flicked at her breasts and belly with his hand to knock some of the sand off, but this got rid of only the worst. She was covered with grit from her hair to her knees, and it was ground into her cunt and asshole as though someone had been using sand and cement there.
"Come on, Cassie. Jerry and Heinie are waiting for us on the beach. They should have some beer left, and we might as well go for a swim, so you can get cleaned up."
Woodenly, Cassie followed the cameraman across the dunes. She would go swimming, but she knew-instinctively-that it would take more than ocean water to get rid of the dirt deep, deep inside of her. It was then she thought of Daddy and his belt again, and with the thought came a flood of tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
After he'd given the girl careful instructions on her lines, Heinrich had watched the actor playing the Indian rape Cassie, wanting to make sure she stayed in a faint, and had then lumbered across the dunes to the beach where Jerry waited with an ice chest full of drinks-a shaker of gin for Heinrich, beer for himself, and soft drinks for the others. The fat man trusted his careful instructions to the actors, Cassie's vibrantly expressive body, human nature, and Harvey's gift for finding the perfect camera angle to make the movie; they didn't need him. The two of them basked on the beach-Jerry in his swim trunks and Heinie fully clothed-and talked of business. Twice Heinrich had opened his wallet: once to give a fifty to the Indian, and then to award the cowboy fifty for his performance and another hundred for bringing the horses all the way out there in a horse trailer. When the cowpoke pointed to his stained saddlehorn, Heinie grudgingly doled out another ten.
For Jerry and Heinrich, today was just another filming episode. They had a good business. Heinrich supplied the capital, rounded up the male actors, and made most of the movies. He edited the few that Jerry made. Heinie also hired the lawyers-quite a few of them, in fact. One was always on call twenty-four hours a day. For the most part Jerry rounded up the actresses and managed their theater. Jerry's take was forty percent; in the six months they'd been partners he'd made a cool fifty thousand dollars clear. Harvey, their technician who had been with them four months, got two hundred and fifty bucks per movie plus-with only two or three exceptions-a piece of ass from every chick who ever took off her clothes in front of his camera.
Before the San Francisco scene had really opened up, Jerry had made several one-reel grind pieces and peddled them to the local theaters. One of his customers was Heinrich. Heinrich owned his theater and made his own films; he had taken Jerry's movies because the boy's women always had sexier bodies than those he, himself, was able to hire. Then when the porno flick scene really started to pop and customers began to expect a complete cinematic experience, Heinrich realized that he was getting too old to both run the theater and make pictures that had to compete with the sharp stuff flowing in from Denmark. He knew he needed someone with Jerry's talents; he had offered the lad twenty-five percent and had ended up giving forty, but it was worth it. Business had boomed.
Harvey came into view, walking in front of Cassie, leading her over the dunes to the beach. Harvey came on down the beach toward Jerry and Heinrich, but Cassie went straight ahead into the ocean. She entered the water cautiously, a step at a time, afraid that in her exhausted state a strong tide would carry her away. The cool salt water was refreshing. Even though her various wounds-her scratches and the whole raw ring of her anus were bitten by the salt, she found the water invigorating. She stooped to rinse the streaks of sweat and saliva and cum and the sand from herself, even dunking her head once. She stood knee deep in the ocean, smiling to herself as she thought she must look like a picture painted by that Italian artist. All she needed was a big shell to step out of ... or some wings, and then she'd look like the girl in the soft drink ads.
She looked down at the group of men, a hundred yards down the littoral, then spotted a drift log in the opposite direction, and began to walk toward it. It was a huge solitary log that looked as if it had been driven into the dune during a particularly furious storm. A gust of wind came up, chilling her: her skin turned to goose bumps and her nipples puckered annoyingly. She was almost dry before she reached the log and, when she lay down on it, found it deliciously warm against her skin. She lay back and closed her eyes in weariness.
After a few minutes of dozing, she blinked and thought she saw a mirror reflection flashing in the distance. When she focused her eyes she realized that she was in view of the road and that a man with rolled-up shirt sleeves had stopped his car and was looking at her through a pair of binoculars. She thought it was odd-he wasn't so far away that he really needed the binoculars-but after a moment she smiled to herself, pleased somehow that a stranger would want so badly to see her. She didn't let on she knew she was being observed, and, if anything, she let her knees swing even further apart.
The man continued to stand there and was still looking at her fifteen minutes later when Jerry approached, carrying a bottle of Coke.
"Thirsty?" he asked.
Wordlessly, without looking at him, she took the beverage and let about a third of it run down her throat before lowering the bottle. She kept her eyes on the ground.
"I hear you turned in a mighty fine performance," Jerry said. "I'm proud of you."
"It was terrible," she said, almost breaking into tears.
"It wasn't, either," he said. "Everyone said you were the nicest piece of ... the best, most talented actress they'd seen."
"No," she said. "It wasn't very nice." The poor girl felt horribly abused. She knew, deep in her feminine soul, that she'd been used. She had been used and betrayed and she knew it, but she hesitated, not being able to find the right words. "It ... it just wasn't very nice at all."
"How so?"
"It hurt me."
"What did?"
"Both of them-everything," she said, suddenly lifting one arm and grabbing one breast to inspect the side of it as well as her underarm. But there was hardly a trace of either scratch; only soreness remained where the skin had been roughened. Nothing so dramatic as she hoped.
"If they hurt you," he said, "I'm sure they didn't mean to. I'm sure they knew they weren't going to do anything really bad. If you thought it hurt, well, it was only because they wanted to get as fine a performance out of you as they could."
"Well, well," she sputtered, "they didn't have to do all that! Those were mean men! And besides," she yelled, "you tricked me! You lied to me!"
"No I didn't," he said, his voice sweet. "You know I wouldn't do that. I told you I didn't know exactly what Heinie had planned. And besides, I told you about the beginning of it. Didn't it start out just like I said?"
She looked at him, her eyes wide with incredulity. "No! No, you didn't! You didn't tell me he was going to ... going to do that to me!"
"You liked it okay, didn't you?"
"And that other man!" she cried. "The one who was going to ride off with me, he hurt me with a thorn!"
"Why, shit," Jerry said. "Don't think anything about that. Hell, that's done all the time. They even do that in Hollywood. You know that famous scene in Climactic Joy with Hyacinthe Lamour...."
"No."
"Well, when old Hyacinthe had climactic joy come over her face ... how she made it happen was, the movie director was sticking pins in her ass!"
"No!"
"Why, sure! They used to do that to her all the time. Whenever they wanted her to look happy or sad, they'd stick pins in her ass. That was her secret. They were always sticking pins in her ass, and she made a million dollars."
"Really?"
"Sure. Everyone knows that. Anyway, all actors have their secrets. Their ways of getting emotions when they want them."
She was quiet for a minute. The movie magazines hadn't said anything about this. But before she pondered too long her mind came back to her grievance.
"You tricked me. You said it wasn't going to be another movie about that!"
"I promised it would be different, and it was. Beyond that, I told you I didn't know what was going to happen, and I didn't. Heinie thought you'd do better if there was some surprise in it for you." He thought for a moment. It seemed the girl would not completely buy this. Sometimes a man has to be direct. "Hell, you like to fuck, don't you?"
She shrugged, pursing her lips.
"Don't you?" he demanded. "Aren't you always happy when I put my prick in you, when I stick it into your sweet little cunt? Don't you always give it a real good fuck?"
"Yes, but...."
"Well, then," he said. "You're real good at it. That's the thing. Why, I'd say that fucking was one of your major talents."
"Yes," she said, blushing, "but I don't want to do it in a movie!"
"Why not?" he demanded. "I told you the avant-garde is more open and honest than Hollywood. Well, everybody fucks. Fucking happens to be one of your major talents, and we're showing off your honest talent."
"I don't like being that honest!"
"Well, it's a changing world. We have to adapt in order to get ahead."
"Even so," she said, "I've shown my fucking, but now I want to show my other talents!"
"Okay," he said, thinking they should let it rest for now, but knowing he had to find a way with her.
In the car, however, she was even more adamant. After riding along in silence for a while, she said, "I'm not going to make another movie for Heinie. Never! And that's my final decision."
Jerry grimaced as he thought that timeworn age-old thought of all men about all women: stubborn irrational bitch! But he said nothing right then, driving along in silence.
After a while, he said, "I'll tell you what, babe. I'll make a movie. I been thinking about it for a long time now, and I think I can do it. I know just what to do. You won't have to worry about Heinie. I'll make the next movie of you."
"Really?" she said, giving a tiny little jump.
"Shit, yes. We'll make a real nice movie. We'll give you a chance to act, yessir!"
"Really?" she asked, hope creeping into her voice.
She smiled and leaned back against the seat. Jerry was so nice to her! But after a moment, she frowned as doubt flickered across her brow.
"You don't ... you don't want to make it about that, do you?"
"What?"
"You know-fucking. You won't make me fuck any more men for the movie, will you?" she asked, her voice tremulous.
"Why, no, sweetheart," he said. "We won't do that, not unless you decide you want to. We'll think of something else."
"Oh, goody!" she cried.
Jerry could hardly contain his smile, a plan already taking shape in his scheming brain.
The ensuing days passed with Cassie becoming more impatient.
"Jerry," she called from the bedroom one night as she was getting ready for bed, "all you do is make promises."
With a sigh, he yelled, "I keep telling you: we'll do it real soon."
"You've been saying that all week."
"Please quit bugging me," he said, his voice showing irritation.
"Well, I can't help it," she wailed. "You're keeping me on needles and pins. All you do is say, 'Soon, soon,' 'Any time now,' and 'Stop bugging me,' " she said, trying to mimic him.
Holding her hairbrush, she came into the living room where he sat, and stalked up and down, a bundle of frustrated energy. She stopped in front of the floor lamp, her sheer nylon nightie doing nothing to hide her curves or the whiteness of her skin, and began to brush her hair furiously. After a moment, she paused, turned to him with artless coyness, and said, "If you told me what it was going to be about, maybe I could keep from bugging you."
She smiled.
"I told you, I can't tell you. I haven't really made up my mind yet, for one thing; and whatever it is, whenever it is, I won't tell, because I want your honest reactions."
She wilted visibly and said, "Well, I worry."
"I told you not to worry-you won't have to fuck, you won't see hide nor hair of anybody's prick."
"I don't mean that, exactly. I mean ... I like to think about it, so I can think what I'm going to do." As if to demonstrate her range of talents, she adopted a very long, sad face, quickly followed by a butterfly half-dipsomaniac grin, and said, "I have to know which emotions I'm going to have to use."
"You'll do fine," he said. "Your natural honest emotions are best."
"I'm sorry. I just can't help it."
"You think I'm lying?" he demanded.
Cassie stared at him, not knowing how to answer. Finally, unable to look at him any more, she nodded her head dumbly.
"All right. Come on. There's something I want you to see." He went to the living room closet and threw open the door dramatically. "Look!" he said, and pulled out a big, shiny black camera on a tripod. Cassie squealed and followed him into the bedroom, her eyes shining as she watched him set it up in the corner of the room, right by the foot of the bed. As if to demonstrate sincerity, he picked up the plug, flourished it in the air, and then stooped to plug it into the socket. "Voila," he said. "I wanted it to be a complete surprise, but for your peace of mind I see that's not possible. So we'll just set the camera up where you can see it, so we won't have to go very far to get it when the time comes." He winked mischieviously, and then his face assumed a mysterious grin, and he said, "It may be sooner than you think!"
Telling her that he wanted her to get a good night's sleep so her face would be fresh in the morning, he led her to bed, tucked her in, and kissed her good night.
Cassie heard him go out the living room door several minutes after he shut her into the bedroom. She wondered where he was going-for that matter, she wondered where he was going all the time lately. He was gone up to four or five hours every day; if she asked him where, he said he had business. If she pressed it and asked what, he'd say "Oh, the usual." She didn't know what kind of job he had, if any.
But she didn't waste her going-to-sleep thoughts on that. He had promised her that it would be real soon-that was the important thing. She fell asleep dreaming sweetly-not having any clue as to what kind of heroine she would be this time. She borrowed, in her dreams, the best qualities of all her favorites.
Before she had been asleep for an hour, she awakened to hear the door opening and rustling sounds at the foot of the bed. At first, in her slumber, she thought it was Jerry coming home, but there were too many half-muted rustlings and they went on too long. She sat bolt upright, clutching the covers to her neck, and asked, "Who-who is it?"
At that moment a floodlight went on at the foot of the bed, momentarily blinding the girl. She closed her eyes for a moment against its blast, then squinted madly in her attempt to see, quaking beneath the covers.
"It's us," hissed a voice in her ear, right beside the bed. "We've come to get even."
"Yes, get even," echoed another voice, a higher, more definitely feminine voice.
Cassie gasped and her mouth dropped open. The larger woman was six feet tall. To Cassie she seemed to loom like a giant, although she was well proportioned and had large full breasts. Her raven-black hair was cut in a bob. The little woman, standing behind the first and peering around her, had wild frizzy red hair and was very slender.
"We'll teach you to rat on us," the big one hissed...." rat on us," echoed the frizzy-headed one. "Rat on you?"
"Rat!" she hissed, grabbing the covers right at Cassie's neck and giving a yank. The blankets and sheets flew through the air and settled around the base of the flood lamp.
"You'll never go to the fuzz again," she hissed, laughing evilly. "When we get through with you, you'll be lucky if you're ever able to walk again!"
"... walk again," echoed the freckled, frizzled ghost.
"But I didn't...." the quaking girl began to wail in protest, arms folded across her quivering jutting breasts. She didn't have a chance to finish, because the slender redhead wrapped her hand in Cassie's hair just behind her head and yanked back, while the big woman struck Cassie twice across the face. The stinging blows hit each cheek twice as Cassie's tongue moved in her half-open mouth in voiceless speechless fright. She then yanked at the front of Cassie's nightie and ripped away the whole front of the gown, leaving the girl cringing naked on the bed.
Cassie was shoved back flat on the bed as the big woman straddled her-revealing full rosy thighs topped by a thick patch of black pubic hair. Cassie's legs were yanked forward and the helpless girl found herself pinned to the bed. The woman's hands clamped hard, all ten fingernails gouging, onto Cassie's breasts, bringing a high-pitched squeal of fright from the girl.
The big woman's fingers locked around Cassie's slender throat. "One more sound out of you, and you'll never squeal again," she hissed...." never squeal again," echoed the wide-eyed unblinking ghost.
Believing her, the timid girl bit her tongue as the woman began to pinch her nipples, rolling their swollen red points between her thumbs and forefingers. When she saw Cassie's eyes roll, she let go that grip and cruelly squeezed those tender handfuls of flesh. The ghostlike waif had bent forward and began running the sharp point of her tongue up and down Cassie's little pink slit. "Charlene, this is a very nice pussy," she said in her high-pitched voice and giggled.
Letting go her legs, the woman called Charlene commanded Cassie to roll over onto her stomach, which the quaking girl proceeded to do without hesitation. Never taking her beady eyes off the soft twin globes, the big woman said, "Stella," and snapped her fingers in command; Stella immediately took the hairbrush from the dresser and placed it in her outstretched hand.
At the first whack, Cassie moaned and buried her face in the pillow. The blows fell rapidly, without letup. Her buttocks became pink, then a fiery red as they quivered under the blows of the hairbrush.
Cassie thought she might faint at first, but nothing so merciful happened. Her latent screams died in her throat, almost strangling her. In her benumbed brain, memory stirred as she could not avoid thinking of the last time she had been beaten, and the image of her father sprang all too vividly to her mind. The unfortunate creature remembered that the only time her father had ever shown her any tenderness was after he'd beaten her.
Stella and Charlene watched as the girl squirmed from side to side, her buttocks rising a bit from the mattress only to flop back with the next whack. She began twisting from side to side. To hold her still, Charlene placed her big hand in the middle of the girl's back and, with brutal strength, shoved her back into the mattress.
Both women watched intently as the girl's buttocks rose six inches off the mattress and swayed there awaiting the blows, which rained mercilessly upon them. Her knees slid apart wider and wider until they were at full spread, and her buttocks rose still another six inches off the mattress. It was as if the gasping girl was trying to get near to the source of some mysterious supply of heat. Rubbing her hands together, Stella peered intently at Cassie's cunt, around which blows now raised as the insides of her open thighs also became red. The soft pink petal-like vaginal lips had be gun glistening with moisture. The wide-eyed skinny woman smiled in glee as more lacteous goo seeped from Cassie's cunt; it was beginning to drip now from the tip of her erect clitoris. "The poor dear wants to come," Stella whispered in her high voice.
So saying, she lay face up on the mattress and inched her way up between Cassie's outspread thighs. Once in position, she reached forward to run the tips of her thumbs softly over the quaking girl's steaming snatch, brushing softly either side of her clitoris as they massaged.
Cassie began moaning as the first jolts of her orgasm hit. Her body shuddered convulsively and her pelvis started moving obscenely. The redhead pushed back the prepuce on the girl's maddened clitoris and watched it twitch, as the tips of her thumbs spread the damp pussy lips and revealed the slick glistening cunt-mouth contracting in thin air.
Cassie, utterly humiliated and knowing it, began to sob huge heartrending sobs, her back heaving and tears flowing from her tight-shut eyes. All she felt was a huge empty helplessness.
Charlene tugged at Cassie's shoulder to pull her onto her back and then onto her side. The woman sat on the bed and rested the girl's head for a moment on her thigh while she unbuttoned her dress and then unhooked her brassiere, drawing it forward to toss it to the floor. Her breasts were everything one might expect from a woman her size, very large and extremely well formed. She was just thirty, and while her breasts had a bit of natural hang, they had not fallen. Their ends pointed and they had a gentle swell, yet they were larger than cantaloupes and were so soft they wobbled every time she breathed.
Charlene's nipples were shamelessly erect when she lifted Cassie's head to cradle the girl's head and engulf her in that perfect bosom. She pressed Cassie's head and squeezed the girl's face into her breasts. She pinched one of her breasts near its tip and rubbed its swollen, sensitive, pinkish-brown nipple. It formed a perfect round little ball-a ball she used to write a Lesbian Message of Love on Cassie's brow, around her eyebrow and softly over her eyelid, on down the cheek to the girl's full lips. She traced Cassie's whole mouth with it before nudging it gently between the lips. No longer sobbing, Cassie opened her eyes and at first licked cautiously at the woman's pap before drawing the tip of Charlene's breast farther into her mouth and beginning to suckle. Her jaws worked madly as she flicked it with her tongue.
All this while Stella's frizzy head had been buried between Cassie's thighs, lapping up every drop of the self-lubricating fluid drooling out of the girl's cunt. With a lazy wave of her hand Charlene tapped Stella on her scrawny shoulder. Stella's head immediately shot up to see what was wanted, and when the boss woman merely motioned with her head, the little woman stood up and quickly pulled her dress off over her head: she was naked. Her body had absolutely no excess fat and her wiry musculature was visible. She was covered with freckles, her breasts were firm little cones maybe three inches long, and her pubic hair was as frizzy and pale red as the hair on her head. The dress dropped from her hand to the floor as she walked over to the corner of the room. From a handbag she drew a double dildo made of pink rubber. The two halves were joined at something less than a right angle and both bristled with soft rubber points. One side was the size and general shape of a handsomely large penis, the other side of it was only half as large. Stella handed the dildo to Charlene, climbed upon the bed, and promptly doubled her knees up against her chest-holding them there with her hands.
Cassie had moved her mouth to Charlene's other breast and was prodding the first with her hand, squeezing it and wonderingly feeling its weight and curves. Holding Cassie's head with one hand, the boss woman placed the tip of the smaller protrusion of the dildo against Stella's emaciated cunt. Stella immediately reached her hands down to spread her lips-which were thin and almost without wrinkles-pulling them apart with her two forefingers like a child making a face, holding her knees tight against her breasts as the dildo was slowly shoved into her. Her vagina was apparently quite tight, for the instrument entered her slowly, in spite of the big woman's sure steady pressure behind it. Stella threw her head back a dozen times as she began to shiver all over, mouth gasping over her teeth like a sucker fish. Then, with hands free and shaking, she spread Cassie's ripe thighs and twisted her at the waist.
Charlene helped guide the big end of the dildo into Cassie's clasping cunt.
"Oh ... oh...." Cassie moaned, almost incoherently, as she felt the rubber prick slip deep into her pussy.
"Agghh," Stella screamed as Cassie jerked her pelvis, driving the smaller end of the dildo deep in her own vitals.
Laughing, Charlene shimmied out of her dress. Her muscular belly was smooth and the thick black pubic hair stood out like a briar patch at the junction of her powerful thighs. Her buttocks were full and round; they jiggled with each step as she glided around the bed in order to straddle Cassie's lust-hungry face. When she crawled aboard, her ass was pressing against the headboard, her face toward Stella's.
Cassie saw the warm pink meat deep in the center of the parted halves. The entire snatch looked like a partially split peach-with the clitoris being the brown peach pit ... and Cassie, driven to ecstasy by Stella's educated use of the dildo, had no qualms about eating. Cassie bit the ridge of flesh, sucking the woman's clitoris and inner lips fully into her mouth, tasting the lesbian nectar. "Oh ... God-so good!" Charlene moaned and reached for Cassie's breasts. She grasped one in each hand, then hunched her back in order to fasten her own mouth onto one of Cassie's pink pearl nipples. She rubbed and licked her long tongue over the entire globe of the tit, then sucked hard and caught the nipple between her soft palate and the back of her tongue. Stella and Cassie automatically reached for any uncovered breasts. Cassie massaged Stella's from the bottom, a hand on each; Stella manipulated Charlene's.
Suddenly, Stella's eyes widened and she began whipping her frizzy red head from side to side. The dildo shone and quivered from the beating it was taking. Any movement by either of them was felt by the other, and the sensations were almost more then Stella could bear.
Charlene let go of Cassie's breast and fumbled behind her for the hairbrush. She picked it up and viciously swacked Stella's buttock; the redhead gasped and jerked her hips, sending the dildo rippling into Cassie's overheated cunt. This made Cassie thrust her hips upward, which sent the other end roaring back into the redhead's tight, hot pussy. Charlene pounded furiously at Stella's quivering ass, making the girl yelp as she whipped her spine in a jerking frenzy. Cassie thrust back in the same helpless dance as heat built throughout her body.
Through it all, Cassie held her mouth clamped firm on the big woman's inner meat-sucking, licking and biting. When she began to flick the clitoris with her tongue-tip, Charlene whimpered and convulsed, rotating her hips back-dropping the hairbrush in delight. Cassie liked the woman's rich musty smell which had pervaded her nostrils for some time, but the cunt was so big it began to shut off her air supply. Frantically, she twisted her head to one side to take a breath. She happened to open an eye at that moment and saw Harvey's waist. Knowledge entered her brain just as air entered her lungs, but there was no time for resentment, for Stella's movements had assumed a not to be denied urgency.
Charlene all but smothered Cassie in her crotch, clenching her soft rippling buttocks on Cassie's cheeks and tickling her chin and throat with that grand pubic muff. Cassie caught the woman's tender inner meat-her clitoris and labia-between her tongue and the roof of her mouth and sucked hard, sucked until her mouth ached, to draw the woman's stretched labia in until they touched her soft palate. She held the pussy lips firm by suction as she began to pulse her tongue against the clitoris, every now and then hungrily gulping more of the woman's sweet musk as the tip of her nose battered the entrance to the woman's vagina.
"Agh-gh-gh-gh agh!" the big woman screamed as she started cumming in Cassie's mouth. Her body heaved, and she slapped Stella's dancing butt with frenzied fury as her orgasm jerked through her. The redhead pushed her shoulder against Charlene's face to grind her tit into the wide open gasping mouth, cumming in torrents as her reddened buttocks jerked and her taut little body flopped like a chicken with its head cut off. The dildo went haywire as it beat and rippled all the walls of Cassie's overheated cunt. Cassie's muscles went into spasms as her own helpless cunt convulsed on the ravaging dildo. "Oh-h-h-h-h God!" Hands dug fingers into soft tits as they all came, screaming and moaning and cavorting wildly in the throes of orgiastic rapture.
After a moment, all three sweaty bodies separated as if by mutual concord. Charlene lifted one knee and then pitched forward onto her side, rolling and half-bouncing onto her back as the mattress springs bounced; she lay there, panting hoarsely, her head at the foot of the bed, arms and legs akimbo. Stella, rather than rise to her knees to disengage from the dildo, scooted her knees apart to pull her hips back, and the rubber pecker came free from Cassie with a plop. Stella stood, the dildo sticking out in front of her obscenely as she inspected the teeth-marks on her breast, similar to the almost-healed marks on her other breast, then walked into the bathroom where she could squat and slowly worm the thing out of her.
Jerry stepped out from behind the flood lamp and, while Cassie gazed up at him expressionlessly, he wiped the fragrant musk from her lips, cheeks, chin, and throat with his handkerchief. Then, after staring down at her supine form for a moment, he picked her up and carried her into the living room.
When Harvey unbuttoned his pants his prick stuck straight out. Moving quietly, he crawled across the mattress until he was between Charlene's powerful thighs, then lowered himself onto her. Balancing himself carefully and taking aim, he buried his prick to the hilt in her creamy cunt before she opened her eyes and realized what was happening. Screaming curses, she pushed at his shoulders and tried to squeeze her knees together before thinking to reach for his balls-too late. He pinched one of her nipples, pinched it as hard as she had pinched Cassie's, twisting it and digging his thumbnail into the skin at its base. At the same time, his other hand went to her throat where his thumb pressed her larynx. "One peep out of you and you'll be a dead bull dyke with a missing nipple, understand?" he growled.
She nodded her head as best as she was able with his thumb so firmly in her throat.
"Okay, now. First, you throw your arms back over your head and don't move them again. Second, you spread your legs as wide as you can. Third, you rock your hips real nice. And last, you whisper 'fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,' right in my ear and keep on saying it until I tell you to stop. Got all that?" he asked, giving her nipple an extra twist and digging his thumbnail treacherously.
Immediately, her arms shot back, her legs flew out, and she began rocking and whispering. It was agony for her, since she hadn't fucked a man in five or six years, and while she liked men okay socially, she detested them sexually. Or so she thought.
Propping some of his weight on his elbow in order to keep his thumb at her throat, Harvey began pumping into her wet pussy, his chest pressing one of her giant cushions between them as he heaved. With his other hand he batted her breast about, squeezing it, milking it up and down, pulling on it, and letting it settle back into place. His fingertips even strayed into her vulnerable clean-shaven armpit. After several seconds he pushed the breast up and clamped his mouth down on her nipple. His hands dropped to clutch her rolling buttocks. He felt her vaginal lining beginning to twitch as it clung to his cock, and he grinned knowingly. Charlene's eyes blazed. "Bastard," she said, then began cooperating. Face flushed, she started whispering in earnest, "Fuck me!" Soon she was rocking her hips with ever-greater vigor. He rammed into her hard two or three times and she gasped nicely, but he decided to draw it out a bit longer, because she was such a tight fluid mount.
He reared back for a moment to catch her legs, pulling them onto his shoulders and, assured of even further depth, his cock started churning in and out like a runaway oil pump. Charlene's hands came out from behind her head, and she grabbed his head to pull his face forward onto her tits; Harvey bit and squeezed them as he nuzzled and buried his cock even deeper. Charlene had begun to pant, her head was rolling to the side, and she moaned in pleasure.
She locked her calves behind his shoulders and pulled him to her. Hanging onto the bed frame with her hands, she arched her ass high in the air to bring him deeper into her and began to wail. Her cunt contracted tightly on him as she began to jerk her legs, yanking on the root of his cock and forcing him slightly out of her. Then, suddenly, she dropped her legs to allow him to plow back into her creamy shimmying hole. His hot, twitching, spewing prick hit her cervix as a hammer strikes an anvil-sending echoes throughout her body as she began to cum. She moaned and gibbered, "Fuck, fuck," as he fired hot jism into her, filling her to overflowing.
Jerry laid Cassie on the couch. She immediately turned to her side, her buttocks still red and aching. She stared blankly into the room as Jerry knelt beside her to brush the hair away from her face and stroke her brow. He began to speak to her. She heard what he said and understood it, but the expression on her face did not change, remaining completely blank.
"That was marvelous. It was a wonderful performance. You're a wonderful marvelous girl and you're going to be a great actress. I know it might have hurt you for a while, and that it frightened you at first, but you did just swell. I love you. I hope you know that. You're a wonderful, honest person and I love you madly," he was saying.
But Cassie, feeling shame-like a black, freezing fog sweeping over her-shuddered convulsively once, then began weeping. The sobs were so heartrending that even Jerry was touched. So much so that he accompanied Harvey out for a drink ... to settle his nerves.
CHAPTER SIX
The next morning at breakfast, Cassie announced, "I want to get paid."
"Paid for what?"
"Paid for my movies."
Jerry gulped in surprise, then took a sip of his coffee and said, "Why on earth?"
"All movie actors get paid."
He thought for a minute. "Okay, I'll talk to Heinie."
"Call him now," she said.
"Okay."
"I mean it."
"Don't you trust me?"
"As long as you get me some money."
Not knowing what had gotten into her, he called just to please her. Heinie predictably agreed to pay her.
"Okay," he said, hanging up the phone. "That's three movies-you've got a hundred and fifty dollars coming."
A hundred and fifty dollars? Stunned for a moment, she said, "It's worth more than that."
"That's what he usually pays."
"It's not enough."
"How much do you want?"
She thought for a moment, and said, "Mmm-a thousand dollars." Then she added, "For each picture."
"No way. Not a chance in the world. There's just not that kind of money in art films," Jerry said, his mind working, preparing to instruct the girl in sacrifice for the sake of art.
"If you don't give it to me, I'll go to the police and tell them you tied me up and had men rape me," she said.
"Shit," Jerry said, mind working fast. The actors would all lie their asses off on the witness stand, of course, but that was no way to convince a jury of anything. On the other hand, the film itself would be damning unless the girl claimed to have been acting. He knew that film, once they got it to the theater and rented it out in other cities, would make them a mint.
"I'll tell them that the cowboy stuck me with a thorn until I said I'd suck his cock," she said.
Jerry shuddered. That, too, was damning. And Caryl Chessman had been executed for less!
"I'll talk to Heinie," he said. "I'll go over to see him in a little while."
"Okay."
Puzzled, he frowned, and after a moment asked, "What do you want all this money for, anyway?"
"I want to go to Hollywood," she said.
"Cassie!" he said. "Cassie! I love you. I told you so just last night. You can't leave me and go to Hollywood now!"
She bit her lip and almost burst into tears. He pulled her around the table and onto his lap to cradle her. Her head on his shoulder, she gasped for breath as she struggled to control herself. Then, as he continued to rock her and say, "I love you," she whispered into his ear, "You-you don't either."
"Why, of course I do," he said, drawing back to look at her face. "I love you very much."
She didn't say anything, but her brow crinkled and she tried to turn her face away. He held her by the chin and, full of resolve, said, "Cassie, I want you to marry me."
The girl's heart jumped. Jumped right into her throat. For a minute she couldn't speak. Could Jerry be serious, she wondered. Might he love her really and truly, after all? If he married her, well....
"I'm serious," he said, his eyes wide and unflinching. He reminded her of a movie actor in she'd-forgotten-what-movie, maybe Rocky Gibraltar in The Wild River.
"Okay," she whispered, "if you really want to."
It was settled. They set a date two weeks off. Yes, he told her, soothingly, she could have a white gown, a gown and all the trimmings. Yes, it could even be in a church if she wanted. Providing the reverend didn't object to movie cameras.
"You'll want to make a movie of it?"
"Why, sure. You'll be ungodly beautiful in a white wedding gown. We'll have to take pictures of it for our grandkids."
She frowned, trying to picture a wedding with movie cameras. Trying to picture the wedding, for that matter. "Okay," she said. "But you'll have to pay me for that one, too."
Jerry now frowned. "What do you need money for if you're going to be my wife?"
She pursed her lips and shrugged. "Everyone needs money. And if I'm going to be a movie actress and you're going to make movies about me, well ... I ought to have my own spending money," she said. "I mean, if I'm going to be your wife, you'll be spending some money on me anyway-won't you?"
"Of course," he said. "And we'll have a grand wedding."
She still wasn't absolutely positive that Jerry meant it all, but as the first week wore through he seemed to be serious. He didn't get bored with talking about it and he seemed to be making as many plans about it as she was. He was always running off, saying he had to talk to someone about the wedding.
He'd even opened up a bank account for her under her own name. The bank man had promised her her own checks in three weeks, and had given her a receipt for three thousand dollars. Heinie had seemed glad to give her the money after she signed a paper for him. She hadn't been able to read the paper since there were funny big words written on it. Jerry had explained that the paper said that she accepted this money in return for services rendered (what she'd done) as a movie actress, that she had been acting her very best and considered this full and proper remuneration (pay).
Jerry had convinced Heinie that the money was well-spent; that, quite frankly, the girl's obviously passionate fucking and vivid easily photographed climaxes were well worth it. Screen Test was doing very well; they had several other one-fuck films playing with it and it was obviously the best. Most customers would stay to see it twice, even if they'd cum in their pants and had to sit through all the other movies again. Frontier Rape was feature-length, running over an hour and a half, and would bring them a windfall-but they needed that statement from the girl, so why not go along with her?
Jerry wanted her wedding gown to be empire-waisted; he thought the high waist made her irresistible as the bosom of the dress caught the hang and sway of her breasts. Beyond that, he let her pick it out herself, aware that most grooms do not even see the wedding gown before the fateful day.
The wedding was to be on a Monday. A week before it, Jerry told her that they couldn't fuck for the rest of the week, that when the preacher said, "You may kiss the bride," he wanted her to be able to give him the most passionate kiss anyone had ever been given. Tickled, she blushed and nodded her head, not knowing what her easy promise would cost her in agonized frustration.
In a relatively short span of time, the girl had become used to being fucked very regularly, and had taken to it like a fish to water. Some days she had done a hell of a lot of very hard fucking, but the next day she was always ready for another, her pussy creaming at the thought of it.
Four times a day for the next few days she would remind herself that she had made a promise, and thus she said nothing to Jerry. Thursday morning, however, she awoke early after a night of fitful sleep and indescribable dreams to find she was slick and wet not only in her cunt but all along the crack between her buttocks. She groped for Jerry and found that he had a giant erection. Without giving it another thought, she straddled him, placing a knee on either side of his waist, and impaled herself on his upright penis. Her buttocks quivered as she wagged herself from side to side, and she opened her mouth with delight as the velvety head of his huge prick touched the very end of her vagina. She began moving her hips rapidly to and fro as she pumped smoothly up and down, shuddering, her breasts wobbling as she bounced.
Jerry, realizing that his dream was more than a dream, opened his eyes, smiled, and reached for her tits with their hobbling nipples red and erect. Then, remembering, he frowned and gave the girl a shove, almost lifting her off him by her tits alone. "We can't do this!" he cried. "Come on! You promised!"
The girl wailed, looking hurt, and almost burst into tears. He tried to comfort her, but she was sullen all morning. When he left she sat in the easy chair, slumped and biting a fingernail. He had said he was going out on "business" for an hour or so. It occurred to the girl that she didn't know what business he was involved in. Here she was about to marry him, and she didn't even know what he did for work! It seemed to her that a wife ought to know that about a man.
In his own frustration, Jerry forgot his briefcase and was forced to return for it twenty minutes later. He opened the door to find Cassie in the easy chair, one leg over an arm and her other leg stretched out in the opposite direction. Her skirt was up and she had her hands between her legs. Shutting the door noislessly, he frowned and walked over to her. Her face was flushed, her eyes shut tight, and she appeared to be muttering to herself. When Jerry saw what she was doing his mouth dropped open. She was screwing herself with a Coke bottle! Jerry had never seen this; while he'd sniggered about it as a kid like everyone else, he'd never realized women actually did it.
Angry at her for breaking her promise, he pulled the bottle out with a plop. Cassie's eyes went open with alarm, her mouth shaped the word "No" several times before she said, "No! No! Please let me! I won't do it again before the wedding, but I've got to, I can't wait a whole week!" And so saying, her hands strummed her pussy like a piano keyboard, playing over the inner lips and spreading them. Jerry realized that she actually couldn't wait and figured she'd get this hot again in another four days. It was just how he wanted her.
He dropped to his knees and slowly shoved the Coke bottle back in, twisting it around as it had been. Through the glass of the bottle he could see the interior of her cunt, its compressed ridges rippling against the glass and magnified by it.
"In and out a little," she said, and he thought, "Yes, the suction, and so he ground it in and out a little as he twisted it. The girl held her pelvis still for the bottle, as still as she was able. From her knees to her neck her whole body shimmied, her taut muscles twitching as her thighs jiggled, her tummy rippled, and her breasts quivered, their red nipples pointing and dancing. Then she arched her back upward several inches to get more of the bottle and jerked her hips violently as her orgasm shook her body.
As Jerry fumbled to get his fly open, she seemed to fall into a swoon, coming awake and active only when he'd penetrated her with his aching cock. She rotated her hips, but Jerry realized that her muscles, so recently stretched by the bottle, had not yet relaxed, could not be drawn tight, and although he appreciated her slickness and enthusiasm, he disengaged himself to turn her over.
Ever since Big John had so mercilessly stretched her asshole with his over-large cock, Jerry had made use of her anterior passage. Now, realizing he wanted to fuck her in the ass, Cassie spread her soft globes for him to render accessible her tight pink ring and revealing the slightly browner skin of her crack.
Jerry positioned his glans and grasped her hips to pull her back onto him. Her rectum widened and slid slowly over his throbbing cock's head. She moaned as her tight ring reached the base of his cock. Jerry's hips began to jerk reflexively as he looked ceilingward, bracing himself on the arms of the chair. Cassie bucked her hips along with him. She moaned and rocked back and forth as her breasts rubbed the knotted cloth of the chair. When she felt his first spurt of cum hit her bowels, she reached for his testicles and rubbed his soft scrotum into her seeping, fur-lined pussy lips and clitoris; then, without warning, she came with him.
Jerry wasn't going to take another chance. He kept a pretty good eye on her the day before the wedding, but detected no visible signs of acute frustration, keeping her busy and taking her on a drive in the afternoon. Early in the morning of the wedding day he told her to get everything ready, and she did, looking happy as a lark, her face flushed, wanting to kiss him every few minutes. After she had laid her dress out on the bed and taken a bath, he told her they were going to play a game. She giggled when he tied her up in the easy chair, fastening her widespread legs to the corners of the coffee table and her wrists together. Then he put some pillows behind her back. She laughed and seemed to think he was being silly.
Among his movie props, he found some long stiff wing-feathers from a turkey. These had been used once on a girl in a movie. Jerry knew he had to shatter completely that happy calm of hers. She frowned in curiosity when he approached with a feather in each hand, and sat on the coffee table between her legs. She smiled slightly when he applied the feathers to her armpits and ran them down her rib cage and back. She frowned again when he began to trace circles around the rise of each breast. She closed her eyes and her lips parted as the tips of the feathers teased her stiffening nipples, bringing them full-swollen and alertly to life. She began panting when he began flicking those bright red nipples with his feathers, and she had arched her back to bring her breasts up before he finished with them. Cassie began to breathe more easily when he moved his attention to the backs of her knees, but before the constantly flickering feathers had made their way all the way up the insides of her thighs she was not only panting but had begun to move her hips slightly, and she rocked from side to side to try to get away when the feathers played in the short yellow hairs covering her outer lips. She strained at her bonds, agasp and atwitch as the feathers prodded her tender inner lips, her pussy lubricating madly as each wrinkle was traced. And by the time one feather had been shoved slowly up her pulsating cunt, where it tickled the deep interior while the other was methodically flicking her clitoris, she was bouncing on the globes of her ass and arching her back, gasping for breath in her attempt to fuck the feather.
Jerry left her like that to run his errand. This was how he wanted her for the wedding, and he would apply the feathers again before dressing the shaking girl. Before leaving her, he placed a large mirror between her widespread legs, and he said, "Now, your attention will probably wander to other things, but your eyes will always come back to the mirror. Every time you see yourself, I want you to think, 'This is the most beautiful body in the world. Any man lucky enough to see it would die to fuck it. My cunt needs to fuck.' "
"Well, why don't you?" she cried.
But he smiled stubbornly and made her repeat it after him until she had it straight, and then he went out to hire a mail-order hippie preacher. And, having nothing else to look at, Cassie would every so often say her lines upon noticing anew her body's curves, and would think, It is a beautiful body! And seeing her glistening wet rubied lips surrounded by fleece, she would think, My cunt does need to fuck! Slowly, intolerably, the heat built up inside of her womb.
There had never been a prettier bride, nor a more ecstatic one. She clutched her bouquet of flowers with both hands as she walked down the aisle, her face flushed with joy. Cassie's lips were parted and she walked unsteadily, pausing every few steps as if faint, but for some reason flexing her left knee a few times as she stood. Watching her coming, one could see the shadows of her areolas beneath the thin silk of the dress, her erect nipples straining at the material, and as she passed, one could see the crack between the globes of her ass. The dress was floor length and had a train held up by a midget. The dress spread in folds about her legs, but if one looked carefully when she stepped, one could see a flash of blue rather high on her left thigh. Although she wore no stockings, it was a blue garter around her bare leg.
All through the ceremony she stood on her right leg, the groom supporting her elbow as she slowly moved her left knee in and out, in and out, almost imperceptibly beneath the folds of her gown. She breathed heavily through parted lips, which she licked with her tongue now and then so that they continued to glisten. When in his sonorous somber voice the preacher bent toward her and said, "Do you take this man to be thy lawful wedded husband?" she gasped, "Oh! I do!" her breath stirring her veil.
When Jerry said, "I do!" the preacher, in his same deep voice, intoned, "You may fuck the bride."
Charlene, the maid of honor who, at six feet, was as tall as the groom, was recognized to some as a bull dyke of great renown. Cassie, in her preoccupied frame of mind, had hardly taken note of her, and didn't look back now as the full-bodied woman stepped behind her to unzip her gown. The woman shoved it forward over her shoulders and it fell free of Cassie's breasts, dropping to the crooks of her arms. She then stepped in front of Cassie, pulled the dress out to her wrists, and the gown, tugged from her hips, fell to the floor. The camera focused closely on the girl's parted glistening lips, then shot to her knee which she continued to move slowly in and out and then up her leg to focus on the center of her. Tucked into the garter belt was the nub of a chicken feather, the upper third of which ran out of sight between the girl's dripping cunt-lips. The feather moved slowly in and out as she moved her thighs.
Charlene stooped to remove the feather. Her fingers slipped, since the feather was soaked with the girl's lubricating fluid, but she flicked it to the floor on the second try.
The best man, Big John, a sometime cowboy, stepped to one side of the girl. The groom lay on the carpet, his buttocks on a cushion. Catching her under her arms, Charlene and Big John raised Cassie in the air and, at the same time, spread her legs as easily as if she was a rag doll. The camera dipped to catch her quartered crotch. Puffy, eager lips were now parted in the midst of the fleece and, visible behind them, the stretched pucker of her anus. Rising, the camera saw her bouquet, which she still clutched with both hands just beneath her breasts, and then rose on up to her wedding veil.
Held high aloft, Cassie was centered over Jerry's upthrusting prick and then ceremoniously lowered onto it; the throbbing purple head of his cock spread the full pussy lips and then sank deep into her. Cassie moaned through her rattling teeth as she was jacked up and down twelve or fifteen times in the space of thirty seconds. Her body went stiff in their hands and her chest heaved as they pressed her tightly onto his prick. Then, without warning, just as she felt Jerry's wonderful cock beginning to throb, she was lifted off again.
The congregation watched as the hippie preacher, who had been standing to the side with a silver chalice, stooped to grab Jerry's twitching, throbbing prick with one hand, and lowered his holy cup to catch the spurts of sperm as the groom ejaculated with all of the force of a whale spouting. In his sonorous singsong, the preacher said, "I take this sacrament in the name of Aphrodite-it is the tie that binds-may the two remain united in her eyes." The congregation clapped.
In addition to the wedding party, the guests included Heinie, the tanned blond youth who had made the screen test with Cassie, the Indian, and Stella-still frizzly redheaded. While Cassie caught her breath, the assembled undressed, dropping all of their clothes where they stood. Only Heinie was different. He continued to wear his white shirt with ruby cufflinks, although-acquiescing to convention-his pants did fall.
Having watched Cassie's delightful squirming, the men all possessed evident erections. The lucky bride and groom stood together just inside the door to the reception room. The first to enter, the blond youth, squeezed her breasts before kissing her, throwing back her veil to give her a deep tonguing kiss as he hugged her to him and reached down to flex the trembling globes of her ass. She seemed to go weak at the knees and leaned into him just before he lifted her slightly to bring his huge throbbing cock between her legs. Its fiery head stuck through beyond her buttocks and almost into the lens of the camera; he dipped his knees between hers and, guiding his shaft with his fingertips, found the entrance to her warm and wonderful cunt. The entire length of his prick disappeared into the wet glory hole, and the camera saw the trunk encircled by golden fleece and hot, pink lips. The sound and sight of his balls smacking against her anus were revealed to the camera, as the youth thrust into her with fury. His shaft rammed in and out of her perhaps twenty times in the forty-five seconds he balled her, before he quietly withdrew and calmly shook hands with the groom to congratulate him. Each man followed suit, giving the bride a brief try and then contratulating the groom with obvious sincerity. Even the midget met with success, sinking to his knees and rocking back onto his heels and tugging at Cassie, who squatted for a moment to plant her seething dripping cunt on the little man's upright and rather respectable shaft, rocking herself on him for a few moments while he sighed and buried his face in her tits. Big John picked her up by the waist and brought her down squarely onto his massive organ; Cassie reacted by going limp and twitching as the massive bulbous cock slowly stretched her cunt. The women satisfied themselves by French kissing Cassie and running their fingers into the slick lining of her pulsating vagina. Each rubbed their breasts against her breasts, and each somewhat disdainfully tried Jerry's cock for size. Stella winced as Jerry lodged the tip of his prick into the midst of her frizzy red pubes; she stood there with her legs parted and enduring it as his velvety glans rammed in vain, penetrating only an inch and a half into her undersized channel. The recently man-hating Charlene also stood there, setting herself to endure, as if not sure she'd like it, but she parted her pussy lips with one hand to expose her rich cuntal meat. After Jerry had given a few fancy thrusts she sighed, convinced, and rotated her hips to run the sides of her cunt on him as she pressed the melons of her breasts tightly against him.
The entire assemblage was in a state of mass excitement-an excitement that was either rock-hard and throbbing, or ripply soft and pulsating, as the case may be-when they began the reception proper. Everyone smiled as they bunched about the happy couple, ready to cut the wedding cake. Giggling, Cassie shoved the piece of cake into Jerry's mouth.
The thick top layer of the cake was shaped into a mound of soft deeply colored frosting. The design was of a yellow pussy with a deep red slit in the middle; right in the center of the candy cunt was plunged a golden cock and balls. Jerry pulled the prick out, half covered with the creamy red frosting, and stuffed it between Cassie's waiting lips. She clamped onto it, trembling as he dipped his hand into the vermilion center of the sculptured cunt to extract a handful of the thick creamy frosting, which he smeared on the girl's breasts. He covered them with it and spread it onto her rib cage. With a second handful he colored her a deep red in a straight line from her chin running down her throat to the center of her body. He dipped for more as he passed her belly and reached to smear it into her fleece and crotch. She parted her knees and another handful went into her crotch, a thick layer extended into her cleft and onto both buttocks. When many hands lifted the bride high into the air, her legs parted, the camera caught on her tender white body the figure of the cross, blood-red, its staff moving the length of her body and its crossbeam across her chest. The frosting contained a dye which remained on her body even when it was licked clean, a blood-red dye that wouldn't entirely leave her body for several days. Hands carried her to a pedestal with an anvil-shaped top, especially designed and padded. It was narrower than her body and supported her from her shoulders to her hips. Smoking candles, lit by the preacher, burned in candelabras around the area. A flood lamp shone from the ceiling.
With those parts of her body to be scoured with cock and cunt and mouth and hand all carefully marked in red, Cassie might have been a sacrificial offering to some heathen god.
Cassie closed her eyes against the light and, when a dozen heads lowered onto her and a dozen tongues began licking her, she began to moan, "Oh! Oh! Ohh!" The mouths nibbled eagerly at her delightfully quaking flesh, and when the girl was licked clean and the heads came up, mouths glistened a deep red from the food coloring, glistened evilly and lasciviously. Straps were buckled across the girl's belly.
The blond youth nudged his stiff cock into her pulsating pussy, and when its purple head was firmly embedded he slowly slid his hips forward. "Yes, fuck me! Fuck me!" Cassie cried without opening her eyes, but giving her hips a wiggle as she felt the huge fleshy cudgel roar through her soft cunt lining and penetrate her.
As the shaft thrust swiftly, she began to roll her head, which was hanging back. When she felt the tip of a cock pressing to her lips, she opened her mouth wide, only too glad to receive it into her throat. It was Heinie, but she didn't think about it, concentrating on his cock as it reached her soft palate. She tightened her lips around it as she began to suck it briskly with her tongue, rolling her head again. Heinie's hairless testicles fell into her closed eyes, the bridge of her nose dividing his scrotum so that one ball fell into each eye.
With a wild howl, the Indian seized the base of them until they were crushed together and stuck his prick between the tightly held cleavage-using her tits as a pussy. Faster, faster he moved; then, with a resounding war-whoop, he began spurting cum all over her breasts.
As soon as he moved away, Charlene stooped to fasten her mouth onto one of Cassie's nipples, which she proceeded to suck expertly, reaching one hand down to fondle Cassie's clitoris which was being battered by the rapidly thrusting blond youth. The midget stepped under the statuesque bent-over woman to lick at her breasts which dangled down, each of which was larger than the little man's head. He bent his knees slightly to fasten his mouth onto one nipple and, with one hand, gave her other breast gentle shoves so that it swayed back and forth like a punching bag. Cassie reached down with one hand to grasp the little man's long slender cock as he began to wiggle his hips. Her other hand found Charlene's anus, and the big woman screeched as Cassie's finger wormed its way in deep.
Stella, meanwhile, had grabbed her wicked dildo and squatted to work it into her seething little pussy. Once inserted, she waddled over to Charlene's bent-over figure and pulled Cassie's finger from the rectum. Stella knelt and spread Charlene's tender moist cuntal meat. She licked it for a few moments before standing. Grasping the big woman's hips, she drove the pronged instrument into Charlene's fevered cunt. The big woman wailed and Cassie screamed as Charlene clamped down with her teeth on a tit. Soon, Charlene was working her ass back against the dildo. She began to flex her knees to send the other end of the surrogate double-prick thrusting about in the frail woman's cunt, making her gasp and squirm delightedly as she rotated her hips.
The preacher circled the menage, reading from a holy book, his voice eerie as the group worked, fucking and sucking. Jerry broke out a bottle of champagne. He had some with Big John, sipping it with a casualness that was belied by their cocks, both erect and upthrusting.
Cassie, washed over with countless sensations from many sources-plundered from both ends, her tits and clitoris caught in various grips-began to cum. "Aagggghhhhh!" she screamed as her body quaked and her clitoris twitched. Her tight slick cunt contracted about the blond youth's cock, and her clenched buttocks held his scrotum in their crack. She arched her back to offer her breasts more emphatically to those who wanted them, and she gripped Heinie's cock as if to pull it out by its root and ingest it into her body. She moaned through her nose so briskly that Heinie's sagging paunch in no way muted her, and her moans filled the room as the fire reached her spine and her entire body twitched spasmodically. Her own moans were drowned out by the midget's moans as he bit his dream-tit and came in her hand, filling her hand with sperm which overflowed her palm and dripped onto the floor, hot and sticky. The youth moaned as his throbbing cock twitched violently, and Heinie gasped as he struggled for breath when his testicles contracted and he spilled his hot load of cum into her throat. Charlene also began to groan, holding her plundered cunt steady for a minute before rapidly wiggling her hips up and down to send the thin woman behind her into a thrashing cum, shrieking as she spent. Charlene and Stella both tottered weakly to a couch, where they lay side by side, kissing.
There was no post-coital letdown; far from it! Big John hurried the smiling blond youth away, tapping his shoulder as if asking for the next dance. Big John spread Cassie's succulent lips with his thumbs to insert the broad bulbous head of his cock, stretching the girl's tender puffy inner lips into a thin ring as he did. Heinie, fearful that his own sensitive dwindling cock would disappear entirely in the girl's still feverishly sucking mouth, inserted his thumbs to pry her jaws apart to free himself. She gave her hips a waggle, wanting more of Big John's massive prick, shrieking, "Yes! Yes! More!" Her chest heaved and she almost fainted before the hulk of a man had fully plowed her throbbing channel. Big John moaned as Cassie's tight slick cunt clasped his huge cock; he began furiously thrusting his hips, jolting her almost into insensibility.
With Heinie out of the way, the preacher pressed his stiff prick to her lips and she clamped onto it, clasping both his buttocks, sucking feverishly, and rolling her head. The preacher-seeing her twitching, ripping body, her breasts quaking with one of them covered with a film of semen, and feeling her maddened sucking-came at once, spewing one long pent-up spurt after another into the girl's wildly constricting throat. In a frenzy, she tried both to swallow it all and to continue to suck it all out of him. He was replaced immediately by Jerry, who, before pressing his own cock to her lips, stooped to kiss her. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled vacantly before she opened her mouth to receive his big smooth cock, welcoming it with her lips and tongue.
Since Harvey couldn't be everywhere at once, although he damn well tried, a camera had been suspended from the ceiling next to the flood lamp. That camera recorded Big John's massive cock absolutely filling the hollow between the girl's widespread thighs. When he pulled his hips back, the girl's cunt parted from his organ with extreme reluctance, her entire vulva stubbornly following his cock for a few inches before sliding from it. In her furious vain bucking as she came for the sixth time, Cassie's pedestal rocked; Jerry was forced to steady it for a moment, or it would have toppled over. Then, as her climax left her momentarily quiescent, Jerry leaned forward a bit farther to clamp his mouth onto her left melon, so soft and ripe. He gave it a gentle bite as he rolled her nipple against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. She moaned weakly, not really sure how much longer she could remain conscious. Big John's movements had speeded up, as had Jerry's. She was being cruelly buffeted from each end by ramming, powerful cocks.
Both men bucked their hips to thrust their rampaging pricks furiously into both ends of Cassie. Then, with Jerry's delighted shouts ringing in her ears, she began gulping her husband's hot cum. Now her cunt began boiling with Big John's unending spurts. Cassie feared for a minute that the massive prick was going to rip her poor pussy right out of its socket, so furiously and completely was she fucked. And, with her body convulsing over and over again as she came, Cassie simply lost consciousness.
She lay there, supine, as the guests drank champagne with the groom. The wedding party was al most over.
Harvey had begun to put his camera away and already had his red aching cock out, trying to decide who he was going to fuck. Cassie was in a stupor on the floor, but Harvey knew from experience that she never failed to respond when she felt a prick in her. The two lesbians were the first to leave the party and they were followed moments later by the preacher, who left the door slightly ajar. Before Harvey had packed the camera, in bounded the preacher's collie, a big friendly beast. The dog perked up his ears when he entered, sniffing madly at the smell of musk and cum which pervaded the room. In a flash, the bounding dog was at Cassie, who lay on her side with one knee out. The animal lapped at the crease between her legs, his tongue running from her asshole to her clitoris and back. The girl stirred slightly, turned onto her stomach, and, without volition, raised her hips. The big dog ran his tongue up and down, nuzzling her anus as he lapped her pussy, his penis sliding out of its sheath of fur, deep red and glistening and drippy.
Harvey said, "Holy Mother!" and frantically sought to reload his camera. The collie lowered his haunches and humped at Cassie's crack, his penis finally lodging in her puckered anus. Cassie returned to consciousness and, without opening her eyes, automatically arched her back. The dog's wet erect penis entered her to the hilt. Harvey aimed his camera at the collie, who panted as Cassie began to wiggle her hips. The humping canine plundered Cassie's ass, his big dripping cock powerfully sliding in and out of her rectum. Harvey saw Cassie fingering her own cunt now. Cassie, the insides of her widespread thighs shimmering as she twitched, and her pussy being battered by the dog's balls-rocked her ass high in the air, rolling her buttocks, as the dog began to tremble. His thrusts were short and furious as he began to howl, and Cassie, suddenly feeling it again, screamed, "I'm cumming! CUMMMMING! Yassss, yassss, yes! Fuck harder ... harder...." She collapsed on her side, in a swoon. This time she didn't come out of it until everyone had gone except Jerry.
He helped her on with her wedding gown, then smiled and said, "That was the most beautiful ceremony I've ever seen."
Cassie was so weary that she didn't even hear him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You know," Jerry said one afternoon, "you ought to help publicize your movies." She frowned, not knowing at all what he was talking about. She didn't know that the art film type of movie that Jerry made was ever publicized, and she had no idea right off how she might figure into it. Jerry explained it to her. It was quite simple, the way Jerry had planned it. When Frontier Rape opened at a new theater, they would invite the press to a private screening, after which they would interview her, Cassie, the star. They would all write articles about her for their newspapers, and everyone would know she was a star. And you never knew, other producers might start offering her parts in bigger-budgeted movies.
Cassie was thrilled. The prospect of having the newspapers all say she was a star sent chills up her spine.
The afternoon of the screening, Heinie and Jerry acted as if they owned the theater where her picture was showing, telling everybody where to go and what to do. She thought that was because movie people were important people until she read in the newspaper the next morning that Heinie and Jerry owned the theater. So that's what Jerry did for a living, what his "business" was, she thought.
So many things had happened to her since that afternoon out on the sand dunes when they'd made the movie that the actual physical memory of the pain of being raped and tortured had passed from her mind. She saw herself up there on the screen and was amazed at her own image. The emotions that had made her body contort up there on the screen had passed from existence, but her body itself, larger than life and nakedly beautiful up on the screen, was still hers. She still possessed it, and the men in the audience stared at it in absorption. She knew they liked her.
After the movie, she and the press people were ushered into the storeroom where she answered questions. Jerry and Heinie primarily wanted the newsmen to see that Cassie indeed existed in the flesh.
Cassie seemed surprisingly calm and poised as she answered their questions. She wore a short knit dress that was almost see-through, her body was vibrant, and she was confident. She had been coached what to say. When a reporter asked her if she'd had any reservations about such a strenuous role, she replied that no sacrifice was too much for a true actress. When he pressed it and said, "Even the thorn?" she replied by telling him about Hyacinthe Lamour having a pin stuck into her.
When a reporter asked her why she made movies like this, she replied that she was simply being honest, that people fucked and she happened to be good at it.
Another reporter looked at the fact sheet they'd been handed about her. Noting she'd grown up in Oklahoma and always dreamed about being a movie star, he asked her how she happened to make her connection with Jerry and Heinie. She answered, "Well, actually I first met Jerry in Texas and he brought me here." Jerry flinched.
"What do you hope to accomplish-besides having a good time-in making this type of movie?" asked another reporter.
"What do you mean?"
"What does it mean to you?"
"I'm acting out my real life feelings about male sexuality," she said, after a moment's thought. It was a line Jerry told her to say if she got a chance, and she figured it fit in here.
As the reporters left, one of them, smiling, turned to her and said, "Uh-Cassie-if I may take the liberty to say so, you have an extremely photogenic cunt."
"Why, thank you!" she smiled, not knowing what "photogenic" meant, but knowing she was being paid a compliment.
She got mentions in three newspapers. There were three articles about her, each with her picture. They all said she was beautiful and had a nice body. One of them said that she "had an air of the ingenue" about her; she asked Jerry what that meant, and he said, "newcomer." Another said that she "evinced both a fear of and a relish for the act." Jerry explained that meant she acted real well. All of the articles mentioned that she was Jerry's wife, which is what had been written on the fact sheet.
She was billed at the theater as a superstar. She made Jerry drive her by the theater five times one Sunday just so she could look at the marquee.
A week and a half after the press conference, an article appeared in Newsivord magazine, and they had a sexy picture of her in her short knit dress, sitting with her legs crossed.
"OKIE MAKES GOOD," the article was entitled:
San Francisco's booming pornography industry has hailed its first superstar in the person (and body) of Cassie Smith, who admits to being an okie who came to California to make good, and is married to her mentor, Jerry Smith, who in partnership produces and exhibits her films. Exhibit her he does and magnificently, for with her expressive body, her apparently lustful proclivities, and her photogenic (and exceedingly well photographed) orgasms, she has a bona fide "talent" for pornography. Nothing inhibits this girl; she is a natural exhibitionist and will do anything before the camera. Jerry, who manages the theater, claims two thousand customers per day with many repeat viewers, which at five bucks a throw is a lot of money, a record for this kind of film, even in wide-open Bagdad-by-the-Bay.
But is she really someone who found her niche in life at a relatively early age, an okie who made good? One wonders, when one comes away from one of her movies, if this turned-on chick, who not only has orgasms most men only see in their dreams, but who also writhes utterly convincingly when tortured or beaten and sometimes has a sad childlike hesitance and look of wounded innocence, just might not be one of life's true victims?
CHAPTER EIGHT
In Fort Sill, Oklahoma, three teen-age boys sat in the living room of a frame house after school one afternoon. Two of them were arguing about last Friday's football game, debating whether they couldn't have won it if the coach hadn't taken out Steve Gladstone and if the referee hadn't made a bad call. The third boy, who had already made up his mind about the game, picked up an issue of Newstvord magazine from the coffee table and began to thumb through it. After reading about some of last Sunday's pro football action, his eyes paused on a page where there was a picture of a girl with her legs crossed. He stared at her raptly-realizing that he could see the beginnings of her buttocks and that she wasn't wearing any underpants. He wished the picture had been taken when she'd crossed her legs, because she'd undoubtedly uncrossed them sometime, but he knew that then they wouldn't have published the picture. Then he read the headline and he realized that this pair of legs was from his home state.
"Look at this!" he cried after a minute. "Holy Jesus! You remember Cassie-she was in our eighth grade class?"
"She in there?" one asked. "What'd she do?"
"Her old man probably shot her," the other said, then giggled.
"She's a movie star," he said.
"Let me see!"
"She had blond hair on her snatch."
"Timmy Jones sat in front of her, and he used to drop his pencil five times a day or more so he could look up her skirt."
"It says 'lustful proclivities,'" one read. " 'Photogenic and exceedingly well-photographed orgasms.' "
"Christ, I wish she'd of had an orgasm then."
"Didn't we ever tell you about, her?" one of them said to the third. "Christ, one day Richard and I and Steve went over to her place after school and got her to play strip poker." He giggled.
"Did you get her to take anything off?"
"Hell, yes. We used a stacked deck."
"That wasn't all that was stacked, either," the second said, giggling.
"We had a rule that we got to tickle anyone who took anything off-we wanted to do it to a count of one hundred, but she said only to a count of thirty."
"But then when she took off her bra we claimed we each got to play with each tit for a count of thirty."
"Did you?"
"Yeah, but she counted real fast."
"But when she took off her underpants and let us tickle her cunt...."
"Man, you've never touched such a gooey cunt."
"... she started counting real slow."
"Yeah, she'd start off fast, but once you started rubbing her pussy, she'd stop counting for a minute and take a deep breath like she was real excited, and then she'd forget where she was and start in again at the wrong place."
"She went back to sixteen five times when Steve was feeling her."
"Yeah, and then when she finished and opened her eyes and pushed his hand away, he said, 'You skipped twenty-three and twenty-four,' and made her start over."
"She almost never finished, that time."
"Yeah, he was rubbing his finger up and down in her pussy a mile a minute, and she spread her legs until we thought she was gonna split."
"Christ, I've never seen anything like it."
"Shit, we all three had our heads right down there looking at her cunt."
"We were gonna fuck her when she lost another hand of poker."
"What happened?"
"Aw, her old man came home."
"Catch you?"
"Well, she picked up her clothes and ran into the bathroom, but he acted like he caught us doing it or something. He screamed at us to get out and not come back."
"Did you?"
"Yeah, we looked back and saw him standing at the door with a shotgun."
"Jesus. Why didn't you ever go back?"
"We were scared for a while. Then they moved."
"Yeah, and he actually took a shot at some guy one night."
"Get him?"
"Yeah, right in the ass."
"Jesus."
Old Ned was dozing when he heard a car roll up, the stop outside. He never had visitors, and looked out the window just as two kids stuck their heads out the window while a third sat behind the wheel, gunning the engine.
"How's your daughter's expressive body?" one yelled.
"Know what she's doing with it now?"
"She's fucking in the movies!"
"Yeah, and she has a real talent for it, we understand."
"They got some real good pictures of her orgasms."
"She writhes convincingly."
"She's a porny superstar," one yelled, waving something out the car window.
"She's a supercunt is what they mean."
"Yeah, who you gonna shoot now?"
"Goddamn shotgun didn't do you any good, did it?"
Ned had just about fixed his mind to go get his shotgun when they threw something out of the car, saying, "Here, read about her for yourselfshe's famous now!" and drove off, giving him the finger, laughing raucously.
After a few minutes the old man stepped out of the trailer and walked over to pick up the magazine they'd thrown out, dusting it off on his leg before looking at it. He squinted and studied the picture. Yup, that was his Cassie, all right. She'd let her hair go straight, but there she was-that was her-she was showin' off her legs, just like a plain ordinary whore.
For a long time after reading the article, Ned sat still at the kitchen table. He sat still and silent and his eyes stared vacantly out the window into the prairie. His two reactions were stunned disbelief and righteous outrage. The disbelief settled in the back of his brain, and he sat without moving, knowing no movement was going to do him any good, knowing that as soon as the disbelief settled a little more there wasn't going to be anything he could do to contain the inexpressable outrage. Thus, he sat there steeling himself against the outrage, not wanting it to kill him when it hit.
And in the morning the tired old man who hadn't slept all night got up and packed his suitcase. He just packed the essentials: two changes of underwear, his toothbrush, and his shotgun, which he dismantled and wrapped in a towel to place it catercornered in his bag.
And that same old man in his nondescript dirt farmer's denim workpants and a stubble of grey beard went into the bank in Fort Sill that morning. No one took a second look at him when he withdrew two hundred and fifty dollars and left the bank, or when he parked his battered pickup on a side street near the Greyhound depot.
"I want one ticket goin' to San Francisco," he said, "and I want two tickets comin' back." It was as if he was announcing intentions of some kind, but after taking one look at his face the clerk quickly looked back down at his charts without asking who he was going to bring back with him. No one in the bus depot or aboard the express bus took a second look at the old dirt farmer's face, which, set in an attitude of grim ugly determination, he pointed out the window, his eyeballs vacant as he stared unseeing at countryside he'd never seen before, his mind and body frozen in barely contained outrage.
Those eyelids closed and he slept, and then those eyelids opened again and he hadn't moved. It was as if not one pleasant memory and not one dream had stirred or fluttered in the ice of his mind. Twice a day, he shoveled bus depot food into his mouth without noticing what he ate. The expression on his face didn't change when he moved his bowels.
The marquee of the Sockittome Art Film Theater read "SF's Superstar Guarantees an Aesthetic Lift. See Casse in Frontier Rape." And in smaller letters: "Cassie's new film coming soon-Make the Squealer Squeal."
There are certain activities which any father might be disturbed to watch his daughter engage in. If that father has a closed mind and is the victim of stringent pre-set social attitudes, and thinks those activities ought not to be engaged in by his daughter at all-certainly not in broad daylight and certainly not with any show of enthusiasm-then his disturbance will be that much greater. When his lingering disbelief, balanced ever so delicately in the back on his brain, left Ned completely, how would that affect his barely contained rage?
When Ned saw Cassie faint as the Indian assaulted her, he almost believed for a moment that she was his own virtuous little girl, as virtuous as any man could want, but he stirred uncomfortably as a trace of a smile formed on her lips when the savage sucked on her tits. He saw her legs and her buttocks tremble as she became excited, and he saw her move and twist as she fucked the savage. He saw that she actually enjoyed sucking Big John's cock-she had enjoyed something that he, Ned, had never asked his wife to do in thirty-five years of marriage, enjoyed it so much and got so hot while she did it that she leaned back and played with her own cunt!
Ned saw much more, all of it in Technicolor and larger than life on the screen. When they played the previews for Make the Squealer Squeal, he saw his daughter's cunt twelve feet high, up there on the screen, all surrounded by her yellow hair, thumbs holding it spread while it twitched and juiced, unbelievably vivid, the contracting hole of her vagin's entrance large enough to admit a man's hand.
While disbelief died, something new entered Old Ned's mind-something new and almost forgotten entered his psyche, something he couldn't relegate to the back of his mind, or shake off in any way. While he watched his daughter in sexual excitement, something stirred in his loins and he got an erection, his first erection in fourteen or fifteen years. His cock grew rock-hard and throbbed as one with his seething rage.
When Ned left the theater, he looked up a name in the local telephone directory. He didn't have to check the folded magazine page in his pocket to see that he had it right.
Anyone would have thought Jerry and Cassie asleep. They lay naked atop the bed; she was curled fetus-style, and he was curled around her. But Jerry stirred, yawned, and then slowly wormed his limp penis from the girl's rectum, her pink anus puckered tightly around it. "Time for me to go," he whispered.
"Don't," she said.
"Got to. You're hauling them in so, we have to pick the money up twice a day."
She smiled slightly, watching him dress and leave. Jerry seemed devoted to her and affectionate in a way he hadn't been before. She sometimes wondered if the fact that she was making a lot of money for him had anything to do with it, but her wonder did not become fear; it didn't gnaw at her. She knew that men were attracted to her. She liked Jerry, but if he didn't treat her nice, someone else would: she had become a star!
When the doorbell rang, she pranced into the living room to press the button, releasing the downstairs door. Then, as if on second thought, she pranced back into the bedroom and threw on a bathrobe, holding it about her without tying the cord.
"Daddy?" she whispered in fright as she saw the gaunt, accusing apparition. A timid little smile of welcome was wiped from her face as his arm snaked in through the partly open door, grabbing a handful of hair on top her head and twisting it. She fell off balance as the rest of him bulled in the door, kicking it shut after himself. She fell to one knee and struggled to get up. He helped pull her up, by her hair, and slapped her hard across the face. Hard with the palm of his hand, then hard with the back of his hand-thunk! crack! thunk! crack!-he yanked her head back and forth, slapping her cheeks, slapping her until her knees went weak and her housecoat flew open as she reached in panic for anything to hold onto. He knead her in the pit of the stomach and let go her hair to watch her body slump to the floor, her breasts bouncing when she landed on her back, legs spread.
He retrieved his suitcase from the hallway and sat patiently until she came to. She sat up and felt her jaw, which had begun to swell.
"Superwhore!" he spat.
She said nothing, but rose to her feet, closing her housecoat.
"Get dressed," he said. "We're taking the next bus back home."
She went in to run cold water on her face, and when she came out, he said, "Girl, I said get dressed!"
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You want more, huh?" he menaced. "You want some more of what you just got? You'll get some more, but I was planning on saving it till we got home. You'll get more for a long time to come."
"Daddy," she said calmly, "the only way you'll ever get me back to Oklahoma is to kill me and take me home in a coffin."
"Well, girl," he said, shrugging, "if that's the way you want it, that's the way it'll have to be."
Cassie watched in horror as her father unlatched his suitcase, unwrapped his shotgun and put it together, then drew two big red shells from his pocket to put in the barrel before snapping it shut and pointing it at her.
"No!" she said, half in disbelief.
"You'd rather die than give up your whoring ways. That it, girl? Maybe I'd be doing you a favor then, killing you."
She threw open her housecoat, holding it wide like wings, and said, "Daddy! What do you have against my body? Why do you hate it? Why do you hate me? Everyone else likes me and likes my body."
Old Ned looked at her body in silence, watching her breasts thrust red-nippled as she dropped her arms to let her housecoat fall behind her. "Daddy! Daddy! There's nothing wrong with my body. It's a nice body. People like it. It makes them happy." She advanced on him, holding her breasts in the palms of her hands as if in offering, their nipples swollen and pointed, while trepidation beat in Ned's heart, fear rising in his chest as he became conscious of the ache, the long-lost throbbing ache in his cock.
He raised his gun for a moment as if he might shoot her, but lusting after her breathing trembling body, he couldn't accept just then the image of her lying dead on the floor. He held his hand out to halt her advance like a cop stopping traffic, while his other hand fought to undo his belt.
Cassie dropped her breasts, and her hands fell to her sides. She looked at the floor. Was this, then, how it was to be with him forever? Without mercy? Her father?
She had been standing with most of her weight on one leg, her other leg extended on tiptoe, pointing out slightly. The first blow-the tip of the belt, which had been snapped rather than swung-hit her just beneath where her yellow fleece was thickest, where her outer lips joined. Stunned, Cassie reached for her crotch with both hands to protect herself. Holding herself tightly, she stared at him in wide-eyed horror as he snapped her bunched-together breasts three or four times in rapid succession before the dazed girl could throw one protective arm across them and turn away from him. He stepped back to snap her buttocks until they quivered red, broken capillaries showing in half a dozen places. She dropped to her knees and began crawling away, half scooting and limping on one hand, her arm holding and protecting her breasts.
He tapped her shoulder with the toe of his boot and pointed. She looked and saw the ottoman, a large padded footstool onto which she flopped, kneeling face down, her hips higher than her head even with her legs spread. The full cheeks of her ass were spread, out of the center of which puffed the tender ridges of her rubied inner lips, moisture glistening between them.
Ned raised his arm, panting heavily, then dropped it, letting the belt slide from his hand as he fell to his own knees. He tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes, but his bicep was twitching and he couldn't lift his arm. He lowered his head to wipe the sweat onto his shoulders before he began to slap her ass with his other hand, back and forth with a "Thunk! crack!" Finally, his hand came to rest on her upthrusting hips, a hand which slid to her pussy lips, feeling their soft moist imprint in his palm.
After a moment, Cassie opened her eyes, surprised that the hand just stayed there, that rather than seeking to hurt her it pressed softly. She squirmed reflexively, pressing her wet cunt lips more tightly into her father's hand. She dared look back at him, to see him panting heavily, staring at the floor, and she noticed for the first time the gigantic bulge at the fly of her father's pants.
Cassie was shocked. She had never thought of her father that way, having one of those! His cupping hand dropped to the floor when she turned to trace the outline of her father's erection with her fingertips. Eagerly then, wanting to please him, she undid his pants to allow his cock to stand. In contrast to the rest of his body, which sagged with fatigue, his prick stood upright, surprisingly large. She dipped her head, peeling back its foreskin to reveal its tip, red and velvety. She ran the tip of her tongue over it and Ned groaned. Her father had rocked back on his heels, and she squatted over him, rubbing his glans on her soft cuntal lips before centering herself on it. Cassie paused to offer him her breasts, the stubble of his beard tickling her nipples as she rubbed them on his cheeks. When he dipped his head to catch one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking it long and deliciously, she began to lower herself onto him, wiggling her pussy and rocking her hips as she felt his glans force apart her hot pussy and slide within. She sighed and said, "Please fuck me, Daddy."
"Yes, girl," he said, hoarsely, as he leaned her back against the ottoman and shoved her onto it. The small of her back rested on the edge of it, and her hips hung over. When he went to his knees and humped his back to nuzzle her upthrusting breasts, an almost-forgotten reflexive movement began in his spine and he began thrusting-thrusting like a teen-ager burns rubber from a new car, taking off with a wild squeal-burning up his daughter's pussy with his animal lust. Cassie, poking her swollen sensitive nipples into his eyes and mouth with side-to-side thrusts of her back, reached behind herself to hang onto the sides of the ottoman. Her feet were on the floor and her legs spread to their utmost and she began to snap her pelvis on her father's cock, crying, "Daddy! Daddy! It's so nice!"
Old Ned began to come. His elbows planted on either side of Cassie, Ned squeezed her breasts with both hands as if hanging on for dear life when the spasms took over. His wild eyes focused on his daughter, who had begun to whip her head from side to side; she squeezed him with her legs and arched her tummy high against his when she felt his come boiling into her. She jerked her hips as she clenched him with her cunt to milk it all out of him, crying "Yes, Daddy. Yes, Daddy. Oh, I love you so much, Daddy."
Something seized his chest inside, his heart beat a mile a minute, and a pain shot into his left arm. Ned slumped to the floor. Cassie looked down at him in surprise for a moment. She knew he must be tired. She had forgotten her own swollen cheeks and stinging bruises. This was only the second time in her life she could remember her father being nice to her. She scooted to the floor to take her father's still stiff prick into her mouth, holding it with one hand to lick its last dribble of sperm before pressing her lips into a ring and sucking it in to her tonsils, gobbling at it with her tongue, oddly pleased to find on it her own smell, her own scented slickness.
Old Ned began to breathe easier, and before Cassie knew it his prick was rock-hard again. An old man's last sexual stirrings do not easily leave him. Cassie straddled him and lowered herself onto his renewed cock, moaning as it entered her, then raising and lowering herself so fast her breasts bounced; a slow-motion camera would have shown that she snapped her hips forward when she went down and back when she came up, but she moved ever faster and her breasts began to flap.
Presently, she slowed down, thinking her father might never be nice to her again, and wanting to prolong it. She leaned forward to unbutton his shirt, baring his chest with its matted gray hair; then she moved first one leg and then the other between his. She lay forward to press her breasts to him and locked her knees to feel his rock-hard cock burning deep within her, clutching it tightly as she rocked back and forth, her buttocks clenching as she ground tightly onto it, rolling her breasts on him as she began to whimper. "Love me, Daddy. Please love me, Daddy. Please say you love me, Daddy. Please say it."
"I love you girl," he said. "I might not a showed it, but everything I done, I done for your own good. I love you."
He planted his feet on the floor, lifted his hips high and pushed on her shoulders, wanting that tight warm pussy as firmly on him as possible as he began to shudder, a physical reflexive shuddering that would continue in his mind long after he'd left her. Cassie, stiffening her back as she began to convulse, used her crotch as a pivot to rock gently back and forth until she'd milked his old testicles of every last drop of semen, of their very last drop.
In a rented motel room, Ned lifted the window shade to stare out into the cold foggy dawn. He had wanted to do right by his daughter and he'd failed. He'd wanted to teach her the ways of Right. Now, shuddering at the memory of his own lust, he admitted to himself that he'd forsaken whatever claim he might have had to setting her a firm example; he had forsaken his right even to correct her when she strayed into wantonness. It was out of his hands now, but he could do one last thing for her. He laid his shotgun back down on the table and picked up the telephone.
He dialed the phone, and had to dial again, and waited and talked to one man before he had to say it all over again to someone else. A cop is never there when you want him.
"I don't know what your laws is in this state," he said. "But they been making movies-real dirty movies-about this girl, Cassie Smith. Know of her? Yeah, well she's only fifteen years old. That's right. She's only fifteen. How do I know? I'm her father, that's how. Can I prove it? Well, her birth certificate, it's on file at the county courthouse in Fort Sill, Oklahoma. She was born March 12,1955. Something oughta be done to those people that's led her down the wrong path."
Laying down the phone, Ned picked up his shotgun, breathed deeply, and blew off the top of his head.
CHAPTER NINE
The vice squad picked up Cassie two days later on a morals charge, after everything had been thoroughly checked out. They also picked up Jerry, Heinrich, Big John, and the blond youth. Big John and the blond youth were charged with statutory rape. Jerry and Heinrich were charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Both got suspended sentences, but paid a hefty fine. Heinie destroyed the footage of Cassie's wedding, which would have gotten him at least a year, like the others, on a rape charge. Jerry was not so lucky. He was charged under the old white slave law-transporting a woman across state lines for immoral purposes-and although Cassie refused to testify, the newspaper story quoting her that he'd picked her up in Texas was evidence enough. He was convicted, but an appeal won his freedom without his spending a day in jail.
Harvey, too, got away scot free. Nothing existed to incriminate him. He also got away with Cassie's latest film, still warm in his camera. He rented a theater in L.A. and exhibited it for three months before the D.A. there got wind that Harvey's star was the same one creating such a stir in San Francisco. The cameraman made a modest fortune, which was all he wanted.
After a terrible blast from the judge, who called her "perverted, inhuman, and a shame to all womanhood," a weeping, contrite Cassie was sent to a state home for incorrigible delinquent girls. She was to reside there until she was twenty-one, which meant she was sentenced to a prison for six long years. On the way out of the courtroom, a news reporter stepped up to ask a question. The matron holding her tried to brush on past him, but Cassie recognized him as a friend; he was the reporter who'd blushingly told her she had a photogenic cunt.
"How do you feel about being put away, honey?" he asked.
Cassie was reeling from the judge's outburst; the black-gowned, glowering figure had reminded her of her father, whom she had killed just as surely as if she had pulled the trigger herself. Now tears welled up in her eyes again. They began streaming down both sides of her face.
"I deserve it. I've been bad," she said, blinking. "You gonna write another story 'bout me?"
The reporter nodded sympathetically.
"Well, be sure and tell them about why I got this way. My Daddy knew. He tried to discipline me-make me do the right things." She paused as the matron tugged at her arm. "Tell all the parents they shouldn't be afraid to discipline their daughters. Make them do right. I probably wouldn't be here now if my Daddy had whipped me more often...." She smiled once, bravely through her tears, and then docilely followed the policeman through the iron-barred door.
