The mist moved like a cat-billowing outward as it hugged the surface of the lake-and from a distance the dark castle looked as if it were resting on the top of a cloud. Not a trace of light shone on the interior of the turreted walls of stone; it was as if the structure itself were some ghostly vision-a mirage of the past.
The sky was black and without stars and it was crossed by a solitary large black night bird above the swirling vapours of the fog. A fish jumped and was hardly heard through the giant muffler of the fog. Then, as if giving the lie to its ghostly appearance, somewhere within the confines of the castle a clock struck midnight.
Suddenly there was the flicker of a flashlight for a brief moment in one of the third floor windows. It moved on to the next window and then, as it reached the corner of the castle, the lights all came on in a very large room.
"I say, Monroe, isn't it a bit of a risk; What I mean is, using the lights and all that?" The older man who had just asked this question showed some apprehension as he looked down at the deeply sleeping girl.
"Oh, come now, you know me better than that, Lord Folsome, or, you should! She won't wake up until I give her the command. Look." He set down the camera case he was carrying and lifted up the covers from the reclining girl's body.
Lord Folsome's breath rushed out in a gasp and one lewd groan as he took in the full ripe contours of the girl's lush young body. The pink silk gown had crawled up to her mid thigh, and the right shoulder strap had slipped down to reveal a luscious mound of flesh which was just the size and shape of a ripe melon. Dick Monroe merely reached down and forward and pulled the bodice down until it revealed to sight the brown aureole and nipple. "Now, watch," he ordered again. Taking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, he cruelly tweaked it. The girl did not make a stir, but the nipple-like some thing that was slowly bringing itself awake-became erect.
"Watch," Monroe repeated again, and lifted the hem of the gown to uncover the pouting mound of Venus between her legs and its luxuriant growth of black pubic hair. He parted the girl's legs and, using his right arm under her knees, raised them until the soft pink lips of her vagina came into view. Monroe glanced over at the rapidly breathing older man and laughed at Lord Folsome. Slowly, he placed the tip of his index finger against his thumb and then flicked it at the pouting clitoris. The girl remained quiet and didn't move, but a low moan of lust was wrenched from Lord Folsome's throat.
Monroe then dropped the girl's legs and they remained spread lewdly out with the vaginal lips slightly open ... the entrance to her most secret regions was completely exposed and defenseless.
"Are you satisfied now?" he asked the other man with a tiny knowing smirk on his face.
Lord Folsome trembled in eagerness. "Oh my, yes!" he answered in a great hurry. "Such a beautiful young creature. Such a fine tight little cunt. I can hardly wait to pay a visit there." He placed his camera on the chair.
Dick Monroe grinned at the older man and mentally laughed as he said to himself, "The old goat is really hot to go tonight!" And why not?! Had he not carefully built Lord Folsome up to this point; had not he spent a great many weeks in preparation for this moment? Monroe knew Lord Folsome's proclivities-as well he should, having catered to wealthy and powerful men of several varieties just like him for more than seven years? As with most of Monroe's clients, Lord Folsome at sixty-six years of age, liked his women young and helpless, and tearfully innocent. Most important, however, Monroe's operation was practically foolproof. There had been no repercussions during the course of the seven years and there was no reason why there ever should be any in the future. In Lord Folsome's case, he liked young newly-wed brides-just married, still with the dewy freshness of their wedding ceremony clinging to them. And what better place to get them than a honeymoon resort, a romantic old castle where for over seven years brides had come to be deflowered by their adoring husbands.
"These women," Lord Folsome had unnecessarily explained earlier, "Present a great challenge to me. For they are young, arrogant, proud, and sure of their undying love for their new husbands
... they have to be humbled-almost broken in spirit-before they can be taught to crawl to their real master's feet."
And now, as Lord Folsome watched the sleeping girl, he began to feel a familiar awesome power gripping and growing in his loins. The sheer silk gown, above the girl's waist, showed the smooth white plain of her belly and the mysterious crater of her navel. Her pubic hair was like soft black down, and the thin fleece-lined vaginal slit was an open invitation to a warm and heavenly tunnel. His eyes fastened on the contours of her buttocks and then moved up over the rising and falling of her breasts. He could see the little nipple still standing proudly erect. Even though his throat was dry, his mouth watered. He was impatient to get his hands and teeth on those magnificent mounds of young, almost virginal flesh and to twist, tease, massage, and bite them until they became unbearably trembling volcanos of passion struggling to erupt.
"Hurry, Monroe," he snapped, not taking his eyes from the girl. "Let's start with the pictures i"
"In a moment, Just wait until I get the earners onto this tripod." A second later, Monroe grunted his satisfaction with the setup and said, "Okay, now."
The thought of those young, almost untouched lips mewling and begging in passion, brought a rock-like hardness to Lord Folsome's penis. The blood pounded painfully throughout its throbbing length, and he could feel droplets of thick white seminal fluid already beginning to ooze from its urethral opening.
"All right," Monroe directed. "Stand close to her. Start unzipping your pants."
Lord Folsome opened the fly of his trousers. His large prick, almost eight inches long and of astonishing circumference, leapt out as though it were some voracious tiger suddenly released from an insufferable cage. The flash of light was brighter than a sunburst as Monroe snapped his first picture. Hastily, Lord Folsome dropped his trousers and underpants. Another flash, together with the sound of film being wound on the next exposure.
"Go on," Monroe commanded. "I'll shoot as you go along."
Lord Folsome hesitated now for the first time; he glanced toward Monroe with some apprehension. "Are you absolutely sure that she is under all the way?"
Monroe sighed in exasperation and walked over to the bed. He stared down intently at the girl. "Deanne ... Deanne, can you hear?" he asked in an absolutely flat tone of voice.
"Yes." The word was a monosyllable without inflection.
"Deanne ... you are with your husband. Open your eyes, Deanne." He pulled Lord Folsome over alongside of her. "See, Deanne. This is your husband, Robert. Say 'hello' to Robert."
The girl blinked, then smiled and said in a loving voice, "Hello, Robert."
"Deanne, you will do anything that your husband asks. You'll do it because you love him, and you know it will give him great pleasure. You will feel much pleasure from him when he makes love to you ... so very much pleasure."
She was silent for only a moment, then she abstractly nodded her head and said, without moving an eye muscle, "I will do anything my husband asks ... it will be pleasure."
"Are you satisfied, now?" Monroe asked the older man.
Lord Folsome nodded his head avidly and then Monroe returned to his camera.
Lord Folsome squeezed the thick foreskin back from his painfully throbbing prick and bared his teeth as he advanced towards the girl again. The proud young bitch was totally at his mercy. He had heard her giggling as she had talked about him to her husband earlier this very evening. She had said, "That Lord Folsome is a dirty old man. A nice rich dirty old man, but a dirty old man all the same. Did you notice the manner in which he looked at me during dinner?" Well the huge cudgel he held in his hand was a great equalizer between these generations! He'd teach her. He'd see if she still called him a dirty old man when his prick was rammed deep between those white thighs of hers and its head buried far up inside her quivering little belly.
He was only dimly aware of Monroe taking another photograph. The heat was on him and it was all he could do to keep from leaping like a starving wild animal upon his prey. But common sense gained control of his body. The pictures, the ones that would bring her crawling abjectly in helpless desperation to him and insure his and Monroe's future safety, still had to be taken.
"Deanne, Dear," he intoned. "Turn your head toward me.
"Yes, Robert," she answered, and her head turned itself on the pillow.
"Deanne, it would give your husband great pleasure if you kissed and sucked on his penis ... as much pleasure as it gives you when he nibbles on your breast."
A troubled expression crossed the girl's face and she hesitated.
Alarmed and wide-eyed, Lord Folsome turned toward the photographer. Monroe merely shook his head and put his finger to his mouth in a charade telling his friend to be quiet.
On the bed, the girl trembled and then, almost as if she were frightened of being bitten by it, reached out her hand towards Lord Folsome's full-some cock. The old man grinned in triumph and moved forward until the straining organ was almost touching her lips. "Open your mouth, Deanne."
She did as she was instructed, and the smooth, throbbing tip slipped partially through her stretched lips and came to rest against her bared teeth. The soft flesh of the ripe full puckered lips closed down about the head. There was a flash of light as Monroe took the picture.
Against his cock, Lord Folsome could feel the hot air exhaling from her nostrils, and could feel her innocent young tongue quivering in ignorance against the instrument in her mouth.
"Delicious," he muttered, "simply delicious. Suck a little and nibble a little, dear." He began moving his hips back and forth as Monroe came in with another camera for a close-up. Several small droplets of cum had seeped from Lord Folsome's cock and had lubricated her mouth that was surrounding its head. Looking down directly at her head, he could see a small stream of glistening saliva and cum running temptingly out of the corner of her mouth. Again, for just a moment, the animal heat came forcefully upon him. He was direly tempted to shoot his full load into her sweet young gullet ... wanted to see her larynx jiggling up and down as she attempted to gulp it down; he could picture it-his come would spurt out of her mouth, into her hair, and run like a white hot flow of lava across her breasts and down her belly. The mental image goaded him into a sudden frantic motion and he was uncontrollably battering his cock down her choking throat, the girl was gasping for air and clawing at his buttocks when Monroe grinned nastily and said, "Easy, man. We still have a few pictures to take, remember?"
Lord Folsome reluctantly removed his cock from her succulent mouth. He had come so close ... so very close. He stood there breathing very deeply as he sought to regain his composure. Finally he sighed, adding to the girl, "That was beautiful, Deanne. Now your husband will repay pleasure for pleasure."
He reached down and removed the remaining strap of her gown, and stared hungrily at her breast. With a low moan of lust, his hot eager lips fastened like a leech to it. There was another flash of light as he was busily using his fingertips to tease the other nipple.
Beneath his lips, he heard a low groan of pleasure from the girl. She placed both hands gently and possessively behind his head. Lord Folsome glanced over and grinned victoriously at Monroe. His lips went back to work then, and his other hand dropped until it found the moist hot cavern at the junction of her thighs. He used his finger-as though it were a violin bow-to scrape across the length of her vaginal lips. "Oh ... Oh," she purred hotly.
Deanne began to breath more rapidly as the sensations mounted in her body. Lord Folsome used his thumb and forefinger to tease her gently pulsating clitoris; this resulted in a low, almost animalistic moaning, "Ohhhh ... Robert ... that feels wonderful ... so good ... so very good. Bite me-rub me harder I"
Lord Folsome suddenly crawled onto the bed and crouched on all fours over the helpless young body. "Deanne, raise your legs and put them up over my shoulders," he commanded. The girl paused, as if not understanding the instructions, but a moment later subserviently bent her legs at the knees and spreading her legs wide raised and placed her calves up over his shoulders. Lord Folsome pushed her knees back against her chest; her upturned vagina, secreting its own lubricant, was in plain view-in an unprotected and totally vulnerable position open to any intruding attack. His mouth watered in anticipation as he gazed rapturously down at the palpitating little pussy. Spittle slid out of his open mouth as he lecherously ogled the open slit of her vagina running down from her smooth white belly and dark silken pubic hair to the full rounded spheres of her buttocks. He could wait no longer to feast down between her thighs. His head lowered, his mouth opened, and his tongue-like a wet red miniature little prick-came into action.
The girl gasped. "Oh ... oh ... Robert! The ... I ... you mustn't? Oh...." She jerked as his lips encompassed and began sucking at the soft hair-lined opening. His tongue flickered like lightening against the clitoris, which was beating visibly. "Ohhhh ... daddy...." Her hands came down and pressed against both sides of his head; it was as though she didn't know whether to force him away or force his tongue and face even deeper into the moist pit of her throbbing cunt. Now his tongue had begun seeking entry into the vaginal passage itself. It flicked in and out rapidly, little licks and little strokes of passion that penetrated almost two inches. The girl's hands fell loosely from his head as she groaned and began to rotate her hips in an effort to get his tongue in deeper.
Suddenly he withdrew the tongue and his mouth from the now responding vagina. Deanne groaned again, this time in disappointment, but only for a second, for his tongue had begun working again; its soft flicking tip made circles around the quivering erected clitoris, and his lips sucked, drawing the organ deeper into the hot saliva-filled cavern of his mouth. Then he abruptly changed techniques again. Like a thirsty beast lapping water, he used his tongue to lick the entire length of her wet, rotating cuntal slit. Deanne's loud moans of pleasure turned almost into a scream of delight when his tongue traced a pattern of fire past her vagina and kept going down, down until it made lewd, flicking entry into the tight, puckered little anal ring.
Flashes from the camera-like a summer electrical storm-continued to brighten the room.
Lord Folsome was oblivious to them now. He had the snooty little bitch going; she squirmed and panted like a helpless puppet under his tongue. She could be brought back to her senses now and she'd be so hot that she would beg him to continue. She was so completely at his mercy. Her mewls drove his tongue faster and faster as it licked its way up and down the now widely clasping lips of her cunt. She was almost there; he could tell by the contractions of her vaginal muscles.
His muffled laughter came as her hands desperately clawed at his head-seeking to drive his tongue further and further into her. The hot happy bitch, he thought; she doesn't realize that what she really wants right now is a hard cock. She'll be begging for it within seconds!
He pulled his face away, tormenting her. Deanne's face was wildly contorted in what appeared to be pain. She cried, and it was a moaning plea, "No ... Robert. Please, Robert ... keep going."
Lord Folsome let her force him this time, and she did so, frantically pressing his mouth against her hungrily quivering vagina. His lips rounded and covered the clasping viscous opening, and he thrust his tongue deep into it. Her thighs closed convulsively around either side of his moving head. On his inward strokes, he could feel her deeper vaginal muscles sucking and milking at his tongue as though they were seeking to rip it out by the roots and devour it. Deanne's legs had found leverage against his back and she pushed down until he could barely breathe. With his tongue deep in her vagina, he used the tip of his nose to titillate the tiny throbbing clitoris. Every muscle in the girl's body seemed to be as taut as a steel cable. The cords of her neck tendons stood out as she tried to raise her head to look down her naked body and see what he was doing.
"Oh! Ahhh? Ahhhhaaa," she began, as if questioning exactly what was happening to her. Then she screamed, "Aiieee ... Ah ... aiiieeee, I'm cumming, darling! I'm cumming!" Her body thrashed from side to side, her legs splayed open releasing his head, and her feet beat a tattoo of wild abandoned lust against the crumpled sheets.
Lord Folsome didn't even glance over toward Monroe. He could stand it no longer. Even as the girl was thrashing and twitching involuntarily in the throes of her orgasm, he grabbed her flailing legs behind the knees again and shoved them roughly back against her shoulders. His long rigid prick was placed against the visibly throbbing lips of her cunt.
"I'm going to fuck you until your head falls off and you can't walk," he said through gritted teeth, and suddenly began pushing forward. The elastic -rimmed tightness resisted his huge circumference for only a moment, then rapidly gave way to his unrelenting pressure. Down, down, down, the pulsating white rod drove.
Deanne tried to pull back from his attack. "No, Robert," she whimpered, "darling, you're hurting me."
Lord Folsome paused. The contractions of her cunt continued to squeeze at the head of his cock; he hadn't realized the girl's pussy was so tight. It fit his prick like a very tight leather glove, and he thought with some glee that the girl had undoubtedly been a virgin on her wedding night three days before.
She obviously had never had a prick this deep into her before, he gloated to himself, as he watched her from above with a lust filled smirk on his face. Her lips had curled back from her teeth. Pleading, incoherent whimpers of pain came from deep within her throat.
Abruptly, he could stand it no more. He rammed forward giving her all he had in one great implacable thrust; his huge expanded cock sunk in all the way to his pubic hair, and his balls-like weathered pendulums-slapped hard against her uplifted buttocks. Her legs jerked out wide on either side of his body as she kicked futilely into the air and screamed, "Oh God! You're killing me, Robert. Please! Oh, Please!" It was a scream wrenched from the deepest depths of her tortured womb.
As though he were demented, Lord Folsome screwed her brutally down into the squeaking mattress-pounding into her with the uncontrollable fury of a typhoon.
Monroe watched with some amusement as the old goat went about his business of ravishing the helpless girl. He had already shot two rolls of film on his tripod camera and had expended another two rolls on close-ups. The girl's face was too dis torted by pain to take any photographs at the moment, but Monroe knew that her expression would change once her tight young pussy got used to the old man's cock. You had to hand it to him, he thought in admiration as he watched the white pistoning rod being driven relentlessly into the girl's tightly clenched vagina. Folsome's hung like a small stallion.
Even as Monroe was thinking these thoughts the girl's body was reacting in a slightly different manner. Her groans of pain came less often now; they sounded different somehow-questioning, perhaps. Once, when Lord Folsome had pulled his prick out about six inches and then driven it inward with one masterful stroke and stab, the girl had moaned and an unmistakable flicker of pleasure crossed her contorted grotesquely alive face.
A moment later, there was an almost imperceptible change in activity on the bed. Monroe saw it first, simply a small motion on the part of the girl as she pushed up to meet a downward thrust. The rest came rapidly; the young bride's eyes were beginning to glaze in pleasure, and her tongue had crept out of her mouth to rest quivering on her lower lip. It presented a lustful picture; Monroe lost not a minute in capturing her lewd changing expression on film.
Now the girl was moving, experimentally rotating her hips and putting her arms around Lord Folsome's midriff. Not satisfied with this, she reached down and cupped his buttocks in the palms of her hands and began of her own volition forcing him deeper into her.
Lord Folsome could hardly contain himself as he felt her abandoned abdomen moving up and down in time to the thrusts of his hardened cock. The contracting muscles inside of her pussy were hungrily at work massaging and sucking at the inflated head. With each withdrawal of his white long cock, the pink lips of the vagina pulled and milked at the instrument. The girl was a natural born piece of ass, he thought in glee, as her quivering body pumped up and down on the rigid penis fusing the two bodies together.
Monroe had begun to feel some excitement growing within himself as he watched the girl strain against the older man. When she raised her ass from the mattress, he could see the little brown puckered anal entrance already covered with trickling cum. And he thought happily, eagerly: You're next, little asshole. You're next! I've got just the thing for you. Monroe took photographs of it all, capturing on film the utter abandon of her labors and the half-crazed erotic smile of lust playing across her taut lips. She was moving even faster than the old man now, and her thrusts had become more violent as she desperately sought her second orgasm. Above the tortured creaking of the bed and the almost obscene slap of flesh against flesh, Monroe could actually hear the wet sluicing sounds of her hungrily sucking pussy as it reluctantly relinquished its hold on the lustfully driving cock sunk deeply between her thighs.
Suddenly the girl's back arched and she pushed upward with a frightening power that almost threw the old man out of the saddle. "Oooooooh Gi ... Ga ... God ... I'm cumming, love me. Fuck harder ... fuck ... fuck ... fuck, fucker, Robert ... Oh, God ... I'm cumming." With a deep throated groan, her body began convulsing in lewd untamed pleasure. Hot wet cum spurted from the throbbing passage. It's sticky warmth flowed down the crevice created by her buttocks; the viscous fluid inundated her anus ... bringing an impatient groan from Monroe. She jerked about frantically, as though she were suffering seizure. She clawed at the old man's back; her legs pumped against him as she sought to drive him in even deeper. Lord Folsome's face was taut as he sought his own release; he rammed his reaming cock forward with all his fading strength. His body drooped down heavily upon her, mashing her full ripe tits against his own hairy chest. His long hard strokes moved violently in and out of the steaming passage that was now wet and slippery from the girl's continuing climax. Abruptly, he could feel the orgasm building up like explosive fumes inside his tortured balls as they beat against her unprotected ass. The lustful pleasure arched across the nerves of his abdomen and his prick throbbed once, twice ... then began to spurt.
"Oh, yes, darling. Come in me ... cum in me ... cum all the way inside of me, Robert." Deanne chanted as her head rolled laxly from side to side and she frantically pumped her vagina up and down the long spurting rod of flesh in an effort to drain it of everything.
Lord Folsome felt the hot slippery walls of her cunt sucking hungrily at his happy cock until there was nothing left in him, and his hardened organ began to deflate.
The girl lay back full-length in bed, with his prick still buried inside of her. "That was wonderful, darling," she said, huskily. Her eyes closed in wavery weary pleasure.
Lord Folsome slowly pulled his slippery penis from the girl. She moaned as though she were reluctant to have it leave her body.
Monroe, who had been becoming increasingly impatient, took a last close-up as the prick slowly slid out of her battered cunt. He could see the girl's wet matted pubic hair-like black moss hanging over a peaceful river bank-glistening on both sides of her vagina. The insides of her milky white thighs were smeared with the cum from both of their bodies. The open crevice of her ass was completely wet from it, and Monroe knew he could stand the sight no longer. If ever a women was lubricated and ready from top to bottom for sodomizing, this one was! He already knew how it would feel-hot, tight ... oh, so very tight! ... and beautiful. .
"Hurry," he grunted to Lord Folsome, as he dropped his trousers. His own cock, like a lean telephone pole angled on the side of a hill, was stiffly ready.
Lord Folsome wearily dried his wet penis on his under drawers and put on his trousers. A moment later he was standing behind the tripod camera. "All right," he said. "Ready any time you are."
Monroe said to the girl, "Deanne, I am your husband ... Robert. Speak to me ... say something to me."
The girl scrunched herself deeper into the bed and mumbled hypnotically, "Robert, darling, I love you."
Monroe said, "Deanne, darling, don't you want to repay your husband for the pleasure I just gave you. It would be nice if you sucked on my penis."
There was no hesitation this time. Deanne turned her head and opened her mouth. There was a flash of light and Lord Folsome, now flaccid, nodded.
"Now, Deanne, I'm going to make love to you in a new and excitingly different way. Get on your hands and knees ... and spread your legs out wide, that's right."
The girl did as she was told. Lord Folsome moved in with the close-up camera. Monroe used both thumbs to peel the smooth white cheeks of her tender young buttocks apart to reveal the quivering, puckered little brown circle no larger than a dime. Really, he thought in ecstasy, it looks like an oval of tiny pink lips. He rubbed his prick in the crevice, lubricating it from Lord Folsome and the girl's cum. The girl winced when Monroe inserted his middle finger in the opening. He moved it in and out, and around and around. The girl moaned in pain when a second finger joined the first. Then Monroe could stand it no longer: Placing the tip of his hardened cock against the tight, puckered nether lips, he plunged forward....
The photograph was taken just as the head of Monroe's cock disappeared through the tight resisting ring of anal muscle. Lord Folsome continued to shoot pictures as Monroe gleefully pounded his prick into her virginal rectum and until her groans of pain became mewls of pleasure and surprise and finally of screaming release as her helplessly impaled body reacted orgasmically like a bitch dog in heat to the unnatural invasion of her bowels.
* * *
Downstairs, the clock struck twice. Lord Folsome helped Monroe to change the badly stained and dripping wet linens on the bed, as the girl stood in a blank and dazed manner, wide-eyed near the window.
"You may get back into bed now, Deanne," Monroe stated to her.
The girl moved like a walking ghost across the room and climbed into the bed.
Monroe pulled the covers up to her shoulders and began intoning to her, "You are lazy and sleepy now ... sleepy ... sleep. When you awaken tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, you will not remember that we were here. Anything which you may recall will be simply a dream about your husband. Do you understand? You have been dreaming about Robert fucking you. Say it!"
"I ... have ... been ... dreaming ... about ... Robert ... fucking ... me."
"Yes, you have been dreaming. You are sleepy. Your eyes are so heavy that you cannot open them. You are sleepy ... sleepy."
The girl slumbered peacefully.
Monroe glanced at his watch. "Two-thirty. It's almost time for dear Robert to wake up next to my wife. Care to bring your camera along and make some candid snapshots?"
Lord Folsome gave a lewd laugh and stated, "I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world, old friend. Wouldn't miss it for the world. If his pecker reacts half as well as that hot little cunt of his wide-eyed wife's, it should be quite a show." He then jumped a little and clapped his hands together in an eager fashion. "I can hardly wait until tomorrow afternoon when we show that arrogant little bitch our photographs. How overwhelming. How frightful and simply delightful! She'll come crawling to me on her knees then. Oh, she'll do absolutely anything ... anything!" He gleefully repeated. "And she'll do it fully awakened!"
The two men found themselves still chuckling lewdly as they walked the darkened corridors of the castle. When they reached the west wing, Monroe pulled down on the handle of a sword on a suit of knight's armour. The hidden door swung silently open to reveal a well-lighted passageway. Two minutes later, they were seated in two comfortable armchairs and drinking brandy and sodas as they watched-through a large pane of one-way glass-a young man slowly beginning to awaken next to a voluptuous nude woman who looked up directly at them and winked in a conspiratorial manner. Then her face changed. She looked as if she had been weeping, and when the boy's eyes opened, she sobbed, "How could you? You beast, you. After we offered you the hospitality of the castle ... to cruelly rape me ... Ohh, Robert! And I was beginning to like you so very much. What will your poor Deanne think...?"
* * *
The following afternoon, a very bewildered and totally ashamed Deanne crawled for her pictures, and then learned that she must continue to be nice for as long as Monroe and Lord Folsome and their other assorted friends decided. Only then would she receive the negatives. Precisely thirty-four minutes later-the seminal juices of two strangers in her mouth, vagina, and anus-she leapt like a wingless bird from the roof of the castle and splattered against the cobblestone courtyard 90 feet below....
CHAPTER ONE
The young girl-fifteen, clear-faced, and with a surprisingly mature body for one her age-was dressed in skin-tight white shorts and was without a bra underneath her rosy red blouse. She lay crosswise on the bed, and stared up at the older girl who was standing before a mirror and running a comb through her long blonde hair.
"But aren't you even excited?" Maryjane asked, shivering in vicarious excitement. "I mean ... I would be! After all, your wedding is only two days away, and then you and Rick go to that groovy castle place in Ireland for your honeymoon. Why, you just have to be excited!"
"Of course I am, you silly thing." Rhonda's voice was patient with her cousin. "I'm happy and excited but I am also CALM." That last statement was a total lie but Maryjane couldn't know that. The younger girl couldn't see the turmoil that Rhonda felt, the oppressive feeling of apprehension that almost turned into fear.
"It must be wonderful to be truly in love and to be old enough to get married ... and to wake up in bed next to your husband." Maryjane giggled and put a hand up to hide her face. "I mean my husband. If I had a husband."
"Maryjane?" Rhonda's voice had just a bit of shock in it as she gazed in mock astonishment at the younger girl and began weaving a larged thick braid into her hair.
Maryjane had her elbows planted on the bed and leaned with her face cupped in her hands. The girl had obviously decided to throw all caution to the wind judging by her next remark. "Well, isn't a bed better than a back seat?"
"Maryjane! What in the world are you talking about?" Rhonda sputtered and threw the comb down spinning around to face the girl.
"Sex! What in the world else?"
Maryjane had the courage to go on now and was not to be denied. She sat up abruptly and curled her bare legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged like a buddha on the bed. "If I tell you something will you promise to keep it a secret?"
"I don't want to hear it at all," Rhonda said emphatically. She was almost sure of the direction of the conversation and this was certainly nothing to discuss with a girl of fifteen. She hadn't even talked to her mother about it, even though the older woman had hinted broadly that they must have a conversation before the wedding day.
Maryjane glanced over toward the closed door of the bedroom as if she suspected that someone were lurking outside at the keyhole. Then she lowered her voice and said, "I know you wouldn't tell on me." She grinned with her secret and then shared it. "I'm not a virgin, you know."
The news momentarily knocked Rhonda off her feet, although deep down in her heart of hearts, the information did not come as a surprise. Maryjane showed all the signs of becoming a swinger, and she already had the build of a twenty-two year old bathing suit beauty.
The girl went on almost proudly, "I haven't been one for almost a year. It was Bruce Coventry. After the last football game last Autumn ... in October ... after he was appointed head cheerleader. We shared a bottle of beer and it made me very dizzy. And then ... he began ... feeling me. And, ah ... asked me to feel him. Then he got into the backseat of his car and ... ah...."
"I don't want to hear another word." Rhonda's voice brooked no disobediance. "Not another word!" She shook her head in dismay and said, "I'm shocked at you, Maryjane, truly shocked. You are either not telling the truth or you just blithely gave away your virginity. Just like that," she snapped her fingers. "Just like you were giving away an old dress or something. I would think you would have more respect for yourself."
Maryjane merely made a shrug and her breasts jiggled with the movement. She answered in a somewhat defiant manner, "It was fun. It felt good. And I've let him do it five other times too. We're going steady. We love each other and everyone else in school does it. Why not?"
"Why not? Well, I'll tell you why not. What does a girl of your age know about love? What if your parents found out about it? What if the police discovered you and Bruce in the back seat when you were ... you were? What if you get pregnant as a result of it?"
Maryjane merely snorted. "Oh, poo! I won't get pregnant ... I'm not that dumb. Why, I wouldn't have let him do it the first time if he hadn't been wearing a rubber."
Rhonda held up her hands in a commanding manner. "I said before that I do not want to hear anymore. I mean it!"
The younger girl shrugged again. "All right. All right." She inspected Rhonda critically, then cocked her head to one side and bit her lower lip in indecision. "You're a cool chick ... real cool. But I wouldn't be surprised if you are still a virgin, even though Rick looks to me like he's the impatient kind. He's probably snorting and pawing the stable floor." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Rhonda marched to the door and angrily flung it open. "Out!" she commanded.
Maryjane petulently got up from the bed and slipped on her loafers onto her feet. With a knowing smirk she strode casually across the floor and then stopped just inside the archway of the door. "I wouldn't have believed it-a girl as beautiful, as well built as you are ... arid a girl who has been engaged for over a year-still a virgin. Wow!"
"Yes, damnit. I am still a virgin ... and I am proud of it. Nit wit-not that it is any of your business!"
Maryjane held out her hands beseechingly, "Okay ... okay. There's no reason to get angry. I was merely curious. I have never seen a twenty-year-old virgin before." She was grinning impudently as Rhonda slammed the door in her face.
What an impertinent little snip, Rhonda thought; My God, what in the world are these school kids coming to? She knew that Maryjane wasn't putting her on; the girl was telling the truth about Bruce. A moment later, Rhonda's inherent common sense took over and she realized that only through a very strong will power had she kept her own virginity. Maryjane had been correct about Rick ... he was the impatient type ... but, he was also extremely understanding. He had proven that over and over again, time after time.
Rhonda and Rick had gone steady for practically two years before their engagement ... and now they had been engaged for almost a year....While they were going steady, they had made out a little-some really passionate kissing had come about, but when Rick had begun fumbling for her breasts, she had managed somehow to stop him each time. Since their engagement had been announced and she received her ring, there had been some petting-at least on his part. She had permitted him the possession of her breasts and, three or four times, he had been allowed to touch that sacred area which would be completely his only after the marriage ceremony. Rhonda had been forced to put a stop to his eager trips down there because of an underlying fear that she, herself, would lose all control. It did feel wonderful ... that fact she was at last able to admit. Unfortunately, after these episodes, she would lie awake all night feeling the restless pounding of her heart echoed deep within her womb. One night-for the first and last time-the throbbing had become so painfully intense that she had touched herself there with one finger. She moved it cautiously and her lonely vagina screamed out in ecstasy. A second finger joined the first and the two of them rubbed gently back and forth on the now damp slit. The motion had become less tender and more rapid! She had continued this for almost fifteen minutes, but aside from her vagina becoming too tender to touch, nothing else happened. She hadn't even come close to that elusive realm of physical release talked about in certain books. She tossed and turned all night-sleeping fitfully. The next morning she awakened to a deep sense of shame-a feeling that still came back with the full force of its guilty intensity each time she thought about it.
But all of that is totally finished and gone now, she thought, as she continued braiding her hair. A minute or two later she slipped on a blue cardigan sweater to match her softly plaided blue miniskirt, and started down the stairs. Maryjane was bright-eyed and totally undaunted by the earlier encounter. She met Rhonda at the landing. "Like Wow! You're really getting some groovy stuff ... there must be a couple of tons of crap in there," she said.
She laughed in spite of herself and said, "Maryjane you are totally and utterly hopeless!"
"Let's go, come on and see the stuff that arrived this morning." Maryjane eagerly led the way to the living room where the already opened wedding presents were piled atop each table as though they were luxury items on display in some kind of a store. Maryjane picked up one at random and said, "Try this one-from the Ashleys."
It was just not possible to keep a straight face with the girl; she was as excited as a child would be under a Christmas tree. Rhonda carefully unwrapped the gift, taking care not to ruin the white satin ribbon, and saving the paper.
"Holy Toledo! An Osterizer ... for cooking in as well as mixing! That's really neat!" Maryjane's excitement was contagious. She grinned and affectionately put her arms around her cousin. "Come on," Rhonda said, "You can help me open them....But save the ribbon and the paper ... and the boxes. And please don't get the cards mixed up. Better write down what the gift is on each of the cards so that I can refer to it when I write the thank-you letters later on."
The two girls had been working almost one hour opening and marking down the gilded loot when the telephone rang and Rhonda answered it.
Rhonda, thinking it was Rick, was excited, and had grabbed it on the second ring.
"Rhonda ... this is Chantal Maroni. Your gown's ready for the last fitting. When can you come over and try it on?"
"I'll come immediately if that is convenient for you."
"Come right ahead, honey. I think you are going to just love it!"
"Oh, I'm sure I will," Rhonda said excitedly; then, as the doorbell rang, she shouted over her shoulder, "Maryjane, will you answer that?"
"Be sure and bring the proper undergarments that you will be wearing with it at the wedding," Chantal added. "We want the gown to fit just perfectly."
"I'll be there in about five minutes." Rhonda said and hung up. She looked towards the door where the deliveryman from Howard's Department Store and Maryjane were both carrying in additional presents. Four different trips were made between the truck and the front door. Rhonda signed all of the delivery slips while Maryjane shook and rattled and counted the packages.
"Golly, twenty-one more gifts ... and this one weighs about a ton," Maryjane's excited voice reported. "Should we open them now?"
"I can't right now. Mrs. Maroni wants to do the final fitting." Rhonda saw the disappointment on the girl's face and suggested, "Hey, why don't you come along with me?"
"Oh ... I'd love to but Bruce and I are going swimming. He's coming here to pick me up in about fifteen minutes or so. How long will you be? Will you get back here before he comes?"
"I doubt it. The fitting probably will take at least an hour."
Maryjane looked down at the rug and played with the fringe with her toe. "I don't imagine that you will change your mind about the hayride this evening?" She asked hopefully. "Bruce and I wouldn't bother anyone. Honest ... I promise!"
"I'm sorry, honey. No. There will be liquor and, besides, everyone there will be in their twenties ... just a bunch of old fogies to you!"
"All right ... if you don't want us there...."
"Look," Rhonda said in an attempt to make the girl feel better, "I'll save some packages for you to open tomorrow. Okay?"
"Yes ... I suppose so." There was a listless quality about her answer.
Rhonda picked up her purse. "I've got to go now. Be sure and lock up the house before you leave."
Five minutes later Rhonda was in a dressing room at Maroni's Dress Shoppe. She quickly slipped on the blue lacy garter belt and her hose. "Now, dear, lift your hands straight up," Mrs. Maroni ordered. "No fast moves because the gown is merely tacked and we don't want it falling apart, do we?" Rhonda felt the luxurious garment slide down over her arms and head. She looked at herself in the mirror. The gown clung to her like a second skin. Mrs. Maroni zipped up the long zipper in the back and then stepped back to admire her work. "Beautiful! Just beautiful!" Mrs. Maroni's face grinned past Rhonda's shoulder in the mirror. "Do you like it?" she said, fitting the veil over Rhonda's blonde hair.
"Oh, yes!" the girl answered sincerely. "It's just ... it's just...." and she closed her eyes, unable to think of the appropriate phrase. It is so strikingly beautiful she thought; Rick will love me in it!
The older woman smiled in understanding. "Well, that's all then. We'll sew it up this afternoon and I'll deliver it on Sunday at around one o'clock."
"You mean that's all? There's nothing more for me to do?"
"Nothing," she said airily. "All you have to do is step into it and wear it down the aisle looking beautiful on Sunday at three o'clock!"
Mrs. Maroni helped Rhonda to get out of the gown, and then she put on her blue sweater and skirt again. She glanced at her watch and was surprised to see that she had been there for only ten minutes. "Maybe Maryjane will get to open some packages today," she thought to herself.
It was a terrifically nice day, Rhonda noted, as she walked the two blocks back to her house. She felt just a little like skipping and she did so! For just a second or two until she remembered her lady-like demeanor. She prayed that the clear warm weather would hold until Sunday at least. She also hoped that it would be nice weather in Ireland. She hoped so many things, but mainly she hoped that she and Rick would be happy together. She was humming a tune when she turned the corner and saw Bruce's car in the driveway. Her step hesitated and she suddenly remembered Maryjane's candid confession about being intimate with the cheerleader. The boy was only sixteen, he might even be fifteen-not yet handsome, but fairly good-looking, with a pleasant personality. He had a certain poise; Maryjane had undoubtedly helped to bring part of that about. During the spring semester he played shortstop on the school baseball team-he was too small of stature and build for the football team-and had earned his letter. Maryjane and he made a rather attractive couple of teenagers, Rhonda thought. Still however, they were just teenagers and should not have been physically intimate.
Knowing what she did, Rhonda was sure that she would not be able to hide her mixed emotions if she faced the boy, so she walked around the side of the house and came quietly in the back way. She had planned to stay in the kitchen until he and Maryjane left to go swimming. Obviously, they would have to be leaving in a moment or two.
The house was quiet-too quiet, she thought. Surely, the young couple had left. For a moment, Rhonda thought about calling Maryjane's name, then decided she would just walk in unannounced. After all, it was her home! She left the kitchen and went through the alcove next to the living room. She was about to slide the doors open when she heard what sounded like low cry of pain. Puzzled, she peered through the crack and then froze in shock and amazement. There, stretched out full length on the couch, were Bruce and Maryjane. The girl's white gym shorts had been unzipped and-together with her white nylon panties-were down about her knees. Her blouse was open all the way, and Bruce's mouth was glued to her right breast. Even as Rhonda watched, Maryjane groaned again-and Rhonda realized that it was not a cry of pain but one of delight. The boy's middle finger was sawing away in maniacal fury at the junction of Maryjane's widespread legs. Her young pelvis was moving up and down in an effort to capture and hold on to the elusive digit. From her viewpoint, Rhonda could even see the enlarged pink clitoris almost as large as an infant's penis.
Rhonda knew she should go away-go back to the kitchen-and perhaps slam a door as if she had just entered. Then she could call out Maryjane's name; that would give the boy and girl a chance to get into their clothes. But then she knew that she wouldn't be able to face either one of them after what she was viewing now. Her attention was pulled quickly back to the front room as Maryjane arched her back up off the sofa and began to pant hoarsely. "I'm cumming, Brucie," she cried once, then fell back, her face twisted in a lewd expression of delight and her legs beating against the leather couch.
After her movements had slowed down, Bruce took his finger away and lifted his mouth from her breast. He slid one knee over her thigh, as he began fumbling with his zipper. "Put it in for me, huh?" he requested.
"No! I told you no." Maryjane said. In spite of the fact that her eyes were closed in satiation, there was no mistaking her adament tone of voice. "Please!" It was a frantic plea from the boy. Maryjane sighed in exasperation and opened her eyes. "I told you before you started messing around. It's the dangerous time of the month for me, and even if it wasn't, you'd still have to have protection. You know that!"
"Oh, God, I'm dying," the boy wailed. Maryjane sat up. She had a very patient expression on her face. "Lie on your back," she ordered, and turned on her side to give him more room.
Bruce did as he was told. She suddenly realized that Maryjane knew exactly what to do ... had probably done this many times before. Even as she watched, Maryjane expertly unfastened the boy's belt, undid the waistband hook, and then unzipped his trousers. His jockey shorts were bulging. Maryjane's hand slipped in the opening and withdrew the penis.
She was frozen; she couldn't have moved now even if the house had been hit by an earthquake. She had never seen anything like this before, although she knew it must happen all the time between some boys and girls. It had almost happened with her and Rick. That didn't change the situation; it was still lewd, dangerous and wicked. Maryjane's hand encircled the virile instrument at a point just below the head of the organ. She began moving her hand up and down, up and down. Bruce lay back with a blissful look on his face, his eyelids fluttering, and his breath coming rapidly.
"Let me know," Maryjane said.
"Yeh ... yeh...." it was hoarse grunt.
Less than thirty seconds later, Bruce raised his buttocks off the couch and his face twisted in a grimace, "Ahhh ... ahhh," was all he said, but the communication was obviously effective for Maryjane quickly used her other hand to pull up the jockey shorts just as the first white spurts of the boy's sperm came flooding through the sub-teranean channels of his penis. Maryjane continued to stroke him-more gently now-and on her face was an unfathomable look that might have been either pleasure or satisfaction. Finally her hand motions stopped. She grinned down at the boy. "Feel better now honey?" Maryjane asked softly.
"Ummm. God, yes," Bruce sighed. "It's not as good as the real thing-like fucking inside of you ... but it's better than nothing."
Maryjane laughed aloud, "And better than doing it yourself?"
"Hey now. I don't...."
"You do," and she hit him playfully, "doesn't everyone?"
After a moment Maryjane brought her hand out from beneath his jockey shorts. Rhonda could see the hand was all wet as it glistened in the reflected light. Maryjane calmly wiped her hand on the tail of Bruce's teeshirt. Bruce turned his head toward her; Maryjane's breast was only two inches away from his mouth. He parted his lips, his tongue came out and licked the erect brown nipple.
With a look of rapture on her face, Maryjane put her hand behind his head and pulled him closer to her. His mouth opened all the way as he seemingly ate off all of the entire breast and attempted to devour it. "Ummm ... that's wonderful!" Then, abruptly, she pulled away from him and her whole demeanor changed. "That's enough," she said in mock sternness. "We'd better get going. Rhonda will be back in a few minutes. Come on ... get up, lazv." She prodded him with her knee.
Reluctantly, Bruce stood up and faced the alcove door behind which Rhonda was hiding. His levis were down around his knees, and he stood straddle-legged to keep them from falling any further down. In an attempt to straighten out his sopping wet jockey shorts, he was forced to lower them to about mid-thigh. Rhonda saw his cum-covered penis, flaccid now and only about two and a half inches long. He used the lower part of his tee shirt to dry it, and the vigorous drying motions started the organ swelling and elongating again. Maryjane unconcernedly got off the couch, and Rhonda was able to see sparse young triangle of pubic hair before the white nylon panties and tight white gym shorts hid it from sight. Casually, the girl buttoned up her blouse, all the while smiling affectionately at the boy. A moment later, arm in arm and giggling, they left; this was followed by the sound of Bruce's car starting up.
Rhonda suddenly realized that she was debilitated-so weak that her legs were almost unable to support her weight. She felt ashamed at having watched like a peeping torn, but, more than that, she could feel a sense of forbidden excitement that raged like wild fire in her own loins and brought a hot fevered dampness between her thighs. For just a moment, when the boy and girl had been petting, it seemed almost as if she herself were being fondled. Dazedly, she slid the door opened and walked to the couch. She reached out one trembling hand and touched the leather. No, it hadn't been a dream. The leather was still warm from the heat of their bodies and, in one place where Maryjane had lain with her bare buttocks pressed against the sofa. She could feel dampness where the girl's love juices had flowed down between the legs to the couch itself.
She sat down and pondered what she had seen. The performance of the two youngsters was wrong. Not only wrong, but sinful and dangerous. Yet, on the other hand, it had seemed such a natural thing and so very enjoyable! She had no doubt that the real act of sexual intercourse between Bruce and Maryjane would be every bit as natural and accepted in just as calm a way. And her thoughts moved on to her relationship with Rick. When she permitted Rick to fondle her, she had known excitement ... at least for a few happy, beautiful moments. Always, however, she had become frightened as she felt her senses drifting away leaving her body helpless to any onslaught. And so, she had tightened up each time. As for touching Rick's penis ... no matter how much Rick had wanted her to caress him, she couldn't bring herself to touch it. His male organ frightened her. Even though she had never seen it, she knew it was much, much larger than Bruce's.
"Everything will be better after the wedding ceremony is over," she thought aloud as Rhonda picked up one of the wedding presents. She then felt immediate depression because she was reasonably sure that it wouldn't be that much better. She forced herself to grin and began ripping the paper off the package. "Every bride has pre-wedding jitters ... that's all that I am having ... isn't it?" And she laughed without humor at the realization that she was talking to herself....
More than once in the next hour her eyes fastened on the couch and she found herself wondering what it would be like if she and Rick....
A few fours later when Rick came to pick her up for the traditional last date before marriage, the combination of her perturbation and forbidden excitement still racked her body. She met Rick at the door, threw her arms around his waist, and kissed him warmly. As she pressed her body in close to him, she could sense his surprise at her uninhibited welcome. Her mouth opened to receive his tongue and her own tongue quivered and played effusively with his.
Rick, delighted with the bold new greeting, drew back and asked, "What gives here?"
"I can kiss my fiance who will soon be my husband, can't I?" she said, grinning in what she hoped was a wicked manner.
"Anytime, baby. Anytime!" They clenched again and then drew quickly apart as Rhonda's mother banged a door at the top of the stairs and came down.
"Good evening, Richard," she said, primly, not smiling.
"Hello, Mrs. Corwin. How are you this evening?"
"Not very well, thank you. I have a headache."
Silence settled over the group then which Rhonda finally broke by taking Rick's arm and saying, "Don't wait up, Mother. It'll probably be after midnight before we get back from the hayride."
Mrs. Corwin stared at Rhonda and then nodded. "Have a nice time," she said and it was obvious that the statement was made perfunctorily.
Rick opened the front door for Rhonda and led the way to his side of the convertible. She slid in and showed more thigh than was usual for her. She didn't even bother to pull down her skirt when Rick got in behind the wheel. His mind was on something else it seemed. "Brrrr," he said, shivering as though he were very cold. "It was freezing in there tonight."
Rhonda quickly covered his hand with hers and said, "Mother means well."
"Certainly," he answered as he started the car and backed out of the driveway. "Just like last week when I told her to cheer up; that she wasn't losing a daughter but gaining a son. She looked at me like I was something that had crawled out of the nearest rock and said, "I am losing a daughter.'"
"Everything will be all right," Rhonda said, moving over until her hip was touching his.
Rick looked down at her legs and breasts, grinned, and said, "Everything is perfect already!"
She flushed and replied, "Thank you, sir Knight," and felt the happiness well up in her.
Rick drove quickly and surely as he drove with one hand and put the other hand around her shoulders. His tape machine was playing something soft and just made for people in love. Neither of them spoke as they drove out of town and headed toward the farm where the hayride was to originate. They were the last couple to arrive. Other couples were already riding up in the wagon and were shouting impatiently for the evening's fun to begin. Several bottles of hard liquor were in evidence being passed around and drunk straight. Rhonda had a mouthful of Scotch straight-and then coughed as it burned its way down her throat to her empty stomach.
Someone began singing as the two horses pulled the wagon across the rambling hills of the countryside. As darkness arrived, the various couples found themselves snuggling closely down into the hay with its seamy sweet odor. One could hear muffled laughter and giggling from the girls and an occasional roar of laughter from the boys. Rhonda knew all of the other couples on the ride as they had all gone through most of their schooling together. They were a nice bunch of kids, Rhonda thought as she realized that most of their friendships went back as far as kindergarten.
Rick grabbed her and worked her down deeper into the hay until she was almost buried in it and she found herself lying full-length pressed against him. She was immediately invaded by the image of the younger couple in her living room that afternoon. She forced it out of her mind and tried to keep it out by asking, "Happy?"
"Oh, yes! And you?...."
In order to answer, Rhonda kissed him and found in so doing that her mouth was pressed against his which was opened partially ... without even meaning it to happen, she felt her tongue swim into his mouth. He savagely returned the kiss and the excitement that she had felt earlier began to invade her being once again. Now Rick, let his hands cautiously touch her breasts. Even through her many layers of sweater and short and brassiere, Rhonda could feel the electric charge between them.
Suddenly from across the wagon Rhonda heard Betty Miller, the pert little blonde who was to serve as their bridesmaid on Sunday, say very loudly, "Harvey Evans, you stop that and you behave yourself. Do you understand me?" Rhonda felt the spell break for a moment and everybody laughed long and loud after this remark. Rick laughed as loud as anyone else there. She looked up and noticed that the old driver was laughing so hard he doubled up.
But only a moment later, Rick began kissing her again and she felt their tongues sparring as his hands became more and more sure of themselves when she did not protest his moves. Since they were lying face to face, Rhonda became also aware of the hard bulge beneath his trousers which confirmed to her his desire. She yearned to reach down there and caress him the way that Maryjane had caressed Bruce. She was preparing herself to make this daring move when his hands moved beneath her sweater and his knee moved between her thighs, separating them.
Rhonda made no effort to halt his fumbling efforts to unfasten her bra hook as she trusted herself and him too. His movements were concealed by the night darkness and the covering straw and they were totally successful. One delicious moment later, his bare hand was on her naked breast; his fingers played over the nipple and he lovingly squeezed the firm, full mound of flesh. Never before had it felt so delightful to her. His tongue had become imperative, his movements almost frantic. His hips buffeted against her pelvis. She found herself panting ... wanting him stupidly to stop and yet hoping that he would go on forever. She wanted him to kiss and bite her breasts the way that Bruce had with Maryjane. She was only vaguely aware of the clopping of the horses' hoofs and the murmuring sound of the other couples who had also buried themselves into the anonymity of the hay. No doubt everyone was necking furiously, she thought. Suddenly the breath went right out of her body. With one unhesitating smooth motion, Rick's hand slid up her thigh, dug itself under the thin elastic leg band of her panties, and touched the hot, moist lips of her now fevered vagina. Oh God! She had been dying for him to do this ... and now she didn't want him to. Immediately she dropped her arm and tried to pull his hand away. She also attempted to remove her mouth from his. She was helpless, so very weak. She was almost beside herself as he began massaging the hot throbbing passage between her legs. Once, his thumb and forefinger tweaked the sensuously tingling clitoris and a shower of ecstasy sparked through her groin. He began using his other hand to force her own hand down toward the awesome bulge in his pants. She could feel reason leaving her; it was insane. "No ... no!" she cried aloud and struggled upright. No one noticed her.
Rhonda saw him looking at her, wild-eyed and trembling. Finally he seemed to gain control of himself and nodded that it was safe to come back into his arms. She did so, trembling like a person afflicted with a disease, and kissed him gently on the lips. The bulge in his trousers felt even larger now, and she could feel it beating like a second heart against her bare thigh.
She had just about decided to do something about relieving him when the driver shouted to someone, and Rhonda heard Betty Miller's voice saying, "Hey everybody, we're here!" The wagon made a half circle and stopped at the bank of a river. A large bonfire was scattering sparks into the night. The smell of broiling hamburgers came into the wind. A keg or two of beer was tapped and one of the boys began playing the guitar. Dinner was followed by a round of singing and the bonfire slowly died down. One by one the couples began drifting into the darkness of the perimeter.
Rhonda felt Rick's hand pulling her to her feet and they walked arm in arm down the dark beach. They had almost reached the end of the sand bar when he suddenly whispered, "Shhh. There's someone out there." Rhonda could hear the muffled groans and something that sounded suspiciously like the sound of body slapping against body. "What is it?" she whispered, half-frightened, not knowing what lay out there in the darkness.
She saw Rick grin ear to ear and he put his mouth against her ear. "I think it's Betty Miller and Harvey Evans ... Come on, let's see."
Rhonda held back and said, "That wouldn't be nice ... We shouldn't."
"Come on," Rick insisted, and took her hand. "Be quiet!"
They moved silently across the beach heading toward the little gully that separated the sand bar from the bank. Rick pulled her low to the ground as they edged along. Then they peered over the bank.
Rhonda made an audible gasp that was quickly cut off by Rick's hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide in amazement. There, down below them, only about ten feet away, where two nude bodies. Betty Miller's white naked thighs were spread wide and jerking violently in the air as Harvey Evans lay heavily between them. She saw Harvey's buttocks raise, revealing a huge white rod of glistening flesh in the moonlight; the rod was sunk deep between Betty's open thighs! Harvey thrust it forward and the girl's naked vagina rose to meet it in midair. She squealed out in delight. Faster, faster the two bodies moved against each other. Betty's breath was coming in loud, short, puppy-dog-like pants and her movements were frantic. "Fuck me harder, harder ... oh, yes...." Betty groaned then, with her face contorted in lascivious lust and passion, and cried out, "I'm cumming, Harvey. Ah? Ahhhh ... aieeeeeee. I'm cumming. Fuck harder!" She made one maddened thrust upward and then fell back on the sand, her body spasming uncontrollably, her legs pounding the ground. A moment later, Harvey rammed forward and groaned out his own release, and the couple lay still; the only sound was their hoarse exhausted breathing, and the slap-slap-slap of water as the little silver river waves rolled peacefully up on the sandbar.
Rhonda was only vaguely aware of Rick leading her away into the darkness. Well, now she'd seen it. She knew the word for it; Betty had been 'fucked', and Betty had used the word 'cum' as her body went independently insane with lust ... just as Maryjane had screamed out she was 'cumming'. And Betty had enjoyed it, had obviously been deliriously happy during it ... and so had Maryjane.
The sight had almost maddened her with a strange unwanted desire. She could feel the hot dampness now of her own awakening loins. Rick was pulling her firmly widely away from the bank toward the darker shadows by the bluff. Once, when she opened her mouth to say something, he held up his hand and silenced her. After they had gone about fifty yards, he pulled her body around toward him as he stopped. They kissed. Rhonda wasn't attempting to tease him; she had a fire in her loins that cried out for extinguishment. She didn't know how to put out the fire or how it could be put out; that would be Rick's job. All she knew was that she was instinctively grinding her pelvis against his forbidden area with the bulge in his trousers. Instinct told her that when these two junctions were finally joined, the fire would blaze up in an all-devouring conflagration, explode, and then slowly die like a beautiful sunset.
Standing on tiptoe, abdomen wantonly pressed against him, Rhonda suddenly felt Rick's sure hands sweep up under the short skirt and cup her thin panty-covered buttocks in his palms. A second later, his thumbs hooked over the elastic waistband and with one delicious motion, her panties were pulled down over her hips. Rick fumbled with his zipper and then the long hard rod which had been held captive for so long was released. It pressed hotly against her naked belly, throbbing hungrily with each beat of his heart. Standing pelvis to pelvis, she groaned and felt his knees spread outward a bit to lower himself. Then the fevered cock was between her thighs.
"Rick," she moaned. "Please ... no. We can't!" That was what her lips said but her body was screaming, 'Oh, yes ... now, right now, my darling. What difference does a day or two make now.' And so, without conscious volition, she flexed and unflexed her thigh muscles against his throbbing penis knowing by his moan of pleasure that she was instinctively doing the right thing.
Rick sawed his cock between her thighs; she could feel the hardness of it moving back and forth inside its sheath of hot thin skin.
His finger had begun to seek out the now moistened entrance to her womb and after a second he found it. He turned his hand palm up to cup the whole of her naked crotch in his hand and, at the same time, force her thighs apart. She hated to lose that wonderful contact between her upper legs and his penis, but she permitted him to spread her anyway. His fingers were moving likes those of a sensuous harp player across her vaginal lips. She wanted to cry out in delight. Never before had she felt anything so soul consuming. Her neck arched and she moved her face from side to side, her lips contorted and panting out over and over again, "No ... no ... no," and obviously-from her wanton actions-meaning, "Yes ... yes ... yes."
Rick was grinding his teeth and grunting softly as he moved his penis up and down the length of her thighs. She could feel some moisture there; she wondered if he had 'cum'. He still was hard, still was moving ... so obviously, she thought, he hadn't reached his climax. There was a moisture-a hot, slippery moisture-in her own vaginal split; the artesian springs of passion coming to life under his quivering rod.
"Rhonda, please! I want you! Let me!" He continued to buffet her thighs with his prick.
I can't let you, she thought, incapable of speaking through her own longing. I can't stop you ... I won't stop you if you really try. His huge rod now had slipped up to the top of her thighs and its head quivered and pressed against her hungrily throbbing cunt lips. She cried silently, "Oh, how I want you to make love to me. Do it now!"; nothing escaped her lips though except wild hoarse pantings of desire. For the first time in her life she felt as if something good was about to happen to her down there between her legs. Her heart rejoiced. There was no fear this time as there had been in the past. No sudden withdrawal of her senses. If anything, her senses stayed right there and intensified. It was beautiful. It was wonderful. She wanted to cry out to him, "Take me ... take me now, darling." When her fiance began pushing her gently down into the sand, she went willingly. Panting, she lay on her back, legs slightly spread, looking up unseeing at the starry sky and watching as Rick unfastened his trousers and dropped them. Then he was kneeling between her thighs, the heat of his bare hips and buttocks against her abdomen and legs.
"Be gentle," she moaned, as she felt the huge head of his prick pressing at the lips of her unprotected vagina. She lay there, the heat of the moment on her-wanting it beyond all other things, and ecstatically happy that the fright had finally left her.
Rick's tongue sought possession of her mouth, his weight descended upon her lower belly, and the first gentle probe of his cock slid lengthwise across her vaginal lips. She gave herself to the sensation; she could feel all reason leaving her body-replaced only by pure feeling. Rick lifted his buttocks back a little in preparation for this first entry. The throbbing head of it touched her vaginal lips, pushed forward and separated the soft yielding pubic hair, and paused there, beating, beating, beating. Now he withdrew the head, now he replaced it and this time pressed just a trifle deeper. Oh God, she thought, it is so beautiful! She could feel her vaginal lubricant oozing around the head of his cock. Now she wanted it deeper. Instinctively, she had reached down there to caress his balls when-with a terrifying suddenness-the breathless moment was shattered by the loud shrill tweet of a police whistle blown only a few yards away. And the sound of it caused Rhonda's nerves to suddenly scream and react as though a stick of dynamite had exploded beneath her. Simultaneous with the whistle, which was the signal from the wagon driver that the evening was at an end, there was the sound of a giggle right above them, together with a muttered, "Ooops! Beg pardon." Betty and Harvey were laughing as they backed away after stumbling over them in the darkness. "Didn't mean to break in," Harvey's voice said, followed by Betty's hissed "Shut up, Harvey!"
Rhonda put her hands against Rick's chest and pushed him away. Frantically, she tugged at her skirt, attempting to pull it down and cover her naked loins. The beautiful moment had fled, and the way her nerves were screaming it was probable that it would not return for a long time ... if ever. It was as though she were a child undergoing psychological conditioning: reach out for a pretty object and receive a powerful shock on contact. Or an alcoholic reaching for a drink in an institution-a kind of 'don't touch' conditioning.
Her nerve endings were all jangling like a hundred alarm systems all shorting out at once ... she wanted to scream. Just as devastating was the embarrassment and humiliation that she felt. God, how cheap and vulgar she must have looked there with her legs spread out like a wanton whore. She covered her face and began sobbing quietly.
Rick, however, was not about to give up that easily. When he sought to pull her skirt up again, she kicked her knees beneath him and twisted on her side. "Don't!" she commanded, and he knew that she meant it. "I'm so embarressed."
"God, we can't stop now," he groaned. "It doesn't matter if they saw us."
"It matters to me," and the sobs began coming more rapidly.
Rick rolled over angrily. "Oh, shit!" he said very loudly, and got to his feet, pulling up his trousers.
"I'm sorry," she weeped. "I can't help it."
"Come on," he said, and it was almost a snarl of contempt, "Get up."
Trembling, Rhonda stood and then feeling even more embarrassment, reached down and attempted to raise her panties; she heard them rip as her heel caught in the elastic. Rick had his back to her. Everything seemed to go wrong so suddenly and she couldn't understand it. She had wanted him to make love to her-needed him to do it! He had even begun to make some penetration. And then that damned police whistle together with Harvey's cruel laughter and Betty's knowing eyes. She said quietly, "Rick...."
He refused to answer.
She sniffed. "Rick ... I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, you acted like it," he murmured. "Well ... I am."
"Okay," he said, his voice cold and distant and not giving an inch. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. That doesn't make any difference to the condition I'm in right now-the same god-damned condition I've been in ever since I met you! Don't be surprised if you hear tomorrow morning that I've been arrested for raping somebody on the street."
Rhonda flared. "It's just as bad for me."
"I doubt it."
"What do you mean by that?" she commanded. "Forget it."
"No, I won't forget it. What did you mean?"
He turned slowly and looked down at her. After a long moment, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed in exasperation. "You can turn it off. It's easy. Look at me though. Just look!" He cupped his bulging trousers in one hand and clenched his fist tight around it. "What am I supposed to do with this? Christ! It hurts a man when he gets all set to make love and then nothing happens."
Rhonda couldn't answer as the police whistle sounded again. Someone called their names and that it was time to go.
"Come on," Rick said, roughly grabbing her arm and leading the wav toward the wagon. Rhonda followed him docilely. She was thinking about what he had said-about it hurting a man when nothing happens and he's ready. Maryjane apparently knew the solution to that problem this afternoon with Bruce. And at that moment, Rhonda decided she would "relieve" Rick this way, if it would help him. He would have to make the first move, however; she couldn't bring herself to be that bold.
The ride back on the hay wagon was silent and the atmosphere strained. He made no effort to kiss or hold her. When they got back to the ranch yard, he had assisted her down from the wagon and then opened the car door. Not one single word was spoken during the short journey home. When he pulled into the driveway, he kept the motor running while he escorted her to the door.
Rhonda's emotions were churning; she was torn between embarrassment, shame and anger.
"Goodnight," he said, simply nodding his head, and again making no effort to kiss her.
All right if that's the way you want to be, to heck with you, Rhonda thought. She forced herself to smile, though, and said, "Good night, Rick." She put her key in the lock and entered without looking at him, and closed the door behind her. She stood there, heart pounding, with her back pressed tightly against the door, until she heard the roar of his engine and the screech of his tires as he angrily departed.
"Rhonda, darling, is that you?" Her mother's voice came from the living room. Rhonda sighed. That was all she needed to make the evening complete-an inquisition. "It's me, mother."
"Come in here, please."
Rhonda had no inclination to talk to anyone at the moment; all she wanted to do was go upstairs, take a hot shower, and go to bed with her own thoughts.
"Rhonda? Are you all right?" Her mother's voice was insistent.
"Yes, Mother," Rhonda took off her sweater and put it on the bench in the hallway. She glanced at her hair to make sure it was clean of hay and not too mussed, and checked her clothing for signs of disarray. Then she entered the living room.
Her mother's eyes flickered over her as though she was evaluating a stranger's honesty. After a moment, she blinked and held a tightly wadded handkerchief up to her mouth.
Puzzled and alarmed, Rhonda asked, "Mother? What's happened? What's wrong?"
The women seemed reluctant to speak. Then, with big tears looming up in her eyes, she reached out for Rhonda and said, "Oh, darling. I should have told you before but it was so embarrassing for me." She sighed deeply, wiped her eyes with a lace handkerchief, and sniffed. "I just didn't want to embarrass you, too. But I can't avoid it any longer."
"What is it?"
"Sit down, dear," She motioned to the couch, then sat down beside her daughter. The older woman's face was flushing as she searched for words. "I've never spoken to you about ... about your marriage duties and wedding night. I must do so before you find out for yourself. This is something a mother must pass on to her daughter. It isn't something you will find in those horrible nasty marriage manuals with their filthy pictures and diagrams ... or those Communistic sex education classes they tried to put on in high school. I'm so relieved that my woman's club was instrumental in getting rid of all that smut. After all, this is something that should be taught and discussed in the home."
Rhonda was appalled. This was the last thing she ever expected to hear from her mother. The older woman was undergoing almost a Jekyll Hyde change as she warmed to her subject. Earlier embarrassment had evaporated-being replaced by something akin to hatred and anger.
She said, "I think you know that men and women have different reproductive organs."
Rhonda was amused in spite of herself and realized that she must bite back her smile. She wondered what mother would say if daughter was to tell her that the first time she had ever seen-in living colour and stereophonic sound-a full-grown male's erect "reproductive organ" had been that afternoon on the couch ... that mother was sitting on the exact spot where Maryjane's "reproductive organ" had dampened the leather some hours earlier ... that Rhonda's own "reproductive organ" had been rubbed by Rick's "reproductive organ" only an hour before.
Mother continued her lecture. "May I suggest that you use your ... ah ... reproductive organ as just that. Get pregnant right away, as soon as you can, Then you won't be bothered by Rick. Sex, after all, is enjoyable only to men; it is something we women must bear with fortitude-no matter how distasteful."
Rhonda swallowed, confused. "But, Mother," she protested, "Sex is supposed to be beautiful between a husband and wife."
The older woman closed her eyes and shook her head. "Sex is only beautiful in that it leads to procreation. Remember the Bible: it says, 'Woman submit to your husband." That word 'submit' means just that. Sex is a cross we women have to bear. Nothing is fair or equal about it. For example, on your wedding night, you will give your virginity to Rick. He will take it joyously. And what does that gift cost you? Not joy? No! Pain! Your hymen will be brutally ripped, the pain will be excrutiating ... and then you will begin to hemorrhage. I have even heard stories of women bleeding to death on their marriage bed. Once-you remember?-I broke my leg and the bone popped out of my skin?"
She nodded, remembering that afternoon when she was only five years old; she'd had nightmares for weeks after seeing the blood, the white bone, and hearing the sounds of her mother's screams.
"You remember how I finally passed out from the agony, and when they tried to move me I came to again, and how they had to give me morphine to ease the pain?"
Wide-eyed and wondering, Rhonda said quietly, "Go on."
"Well, the pain that afternoon was nothing compared to the agony I suffered when your father took my virginity ... even though he tried to be gentle. That, of course, was before he became an insensitive alcoholic brute," The older woman's eyes narrowed in recollection. "It was always painful. It hurt every time he insisted on my performing what he called "marital obligations" ... My mother suffered the same way, and her mother, and her mother's mother before her. Your poor Aunt Margaret! It is a fact of life you must learn to accept, and that is why I say to you, 'get pregnant as soon as you can!' "
Rhonda was slowly putting her thoughts into words, but finally her feelings came tumbling out. "But don't most women enjoy making love with their husbands?"
"Whores! And don't disgrace that beautiful word 'love' by using it in that filthy context. 'Making love', indeed! 'Making war' would be more like it, for the woman is always defeated, degraded, and brutally subjected to all types of indignities. Can you imagine ... (No, of course you can't, and pray God that you'll never have to!) ... what it is like to have some foul-breathed, wine-swilling, cigar stinking beast crawl like a spider over your naked body?" She shuddered from the thought of it; and Rhonda-watching her mother's genuine horror-couldn't help thinking about what she had said.
Rhonda was fairly certain that her mother was telling the truth-at least the truth as the older woman saw it. Perhaps there was an inherited physiological trait that had been passed on through the female genes in her mother's family. She had read and heard about such things. Perhaps it was painful! Maybe there was some almost insignificant anatomical or neurological difference in the female line of her family. And, abruptly, as the horrifying thought came to her, Rhonda clutched the arm of the couch: Could the trait have been passed on to her? Would she know agony ... instead of passionate enjoyment? Would she have known excruciating pain if Rick had continuted his penetration?
Her mind was a malestrom of confusion and fear. There were so many questions she wanted to ask now ... and no one to answer them. Rhonda wanted to ask if her mother had ever enjoyed a male's caresses and fondling, but such a question was embarrassing and at that moment almost senseless.
Then, almost as if reading her mind, her mother said, "I think almost all women enjoy 'sparking' with a man-the touch of his hand upon your arm," and the older woman blushed, "or a gentle kiss. The body responds of course. But the act of sexual intercourse itself is degrading." A moment later she began speaking more rapidly-almost irrationally. "Remember what Saint Augustine wrote, 'Nothing is so much to be shunned as sex relations.' And remember what I said ... Sexual intercourse should be used only for procreating the race. Birth is painful-horribly so-but the act of conception, of mindless copulation, is equally painful. Get pregnant, my darling, as soon as you can."
There was more of the same but Rhonda's mind could not absorb any more. She knew her mother was wrong-terribly wrong. That statement about only "whores enjoying sex" was almost pathetic. Maryjane certainly was no whore-nor was Betty. Then there was Caroline and Jeanne, both of whom had been friends of Rhonda's for almost all of her twenty-two years; both had been married earlier this summer. They certainly weren't "whores", but they had made some ecstatic reports about what their husbands did to them in bed.
Long after she had gone upstairs, Rhonda lay awake-unable to sleep. She gradually became more and more certain that her mother was telling the truth as she saw it. It was painful to mother; it probably was agonizing ... to mother, to mother's mother, and Aunt Margaret. If it was true, and Rhonda had absolutely no reason to doubt it, then most probably the same thing was inherently wrong with her. It would be as agonizing for her as her ancestors once Rick made full penetration.
It was a family curse, her confused mind decided; a curse handed down from one female to another on her mother's side, Down there-deep within her womb-she felt her vaginal muscles tighten. It was as though a lock had been put in place ... a lock without a key ... a lock that would keep spring and summer out for evermore.
CHAPTER TWO
Rick knew he was acting like an immature teenager when he sped away from Rhonda's house with his tires squeeling. His mind was too full of anger and unhappiness to care about noise or wear and tear on the new car. His anger was directed not only against Rhonda but against himself as well.
He realized that Rhonda wanted to keep her virginity in tact until the wedding; that, at least, was understandable. It was all right with him, too, as long as he could occasionally score with a college girl from out of town or one of the occasional hungry, but discreet older married women he met while working as sales manager in his father's auto showroom. The really big problem was that Rhonda kept displaying these frustrating moments of willingness to go all the way ... until she began getting up tight. She wasn't a "prick teaser", it seemed more like she was really scared.
He rubbed his cock through the material of his trousers. His balls were hurting again-the usual occurence after a date with Rhonda. "Christ, we came so close tonight, and she was almost letting me," he said aloud, and then added, "That goddamned police whistle-scared hell out of me, too.
And Harvey, making all those wise cracks ... that's all we needed!" Rhonda had tightened up like fast drying cement the minute she heard the whistle; it was almost as if she had suffered instant rigor mortis. Then something had seemed to collapse inside her when she realized that there were witnesses. That had been Harvey's idea of a practical joke-butting in just at that moment.
Rick stopped his car at the traffic signal and waited, then he burned rubber away but was cautioned by a passing police car in the opposite direction which blinked its lights at him in warning.
When he turned off onto Main Street, he was surprised to see Harvey Evans' sports car on the side of the road; its parking lights were blinking and a cursing Harvey had his head under the hood.
"What's wrong, pal?" Rick asked as he pulled alongside and stopped.
Harvey looked up. "Oh, this son of a bitching oil line blew on me again. Third time this week. Christ, for two bits I'd drive this thing over the trestle and dance a jig all the time it was sinking into the river!"
Rick laughed. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you've got three feet of quarter inch copper tubing?"
"Afraid I don't....Can I call a garage for you?"
"Naw. The cops came by a few minutes ago and radioed in for me ... the tow truck is out on the highway with a wreck right now so they can't be here for another half hour or so."
"Okay, see you later then," Rick said, and put his car in gear.
"Hey, wait!" Harvey came over to the side of the car, a troubled look on his face. "Say ... ah ... you could do me a favor."
"Sure, anything."
Harvey nodded toward the front seat of his car. "Can you give her a lift home? Her old man's going to raise hell ... even now; another thirty minutes and he'll probably be waiting on the front porch with a shotgun!"
Grinning, for the first time Rick saw Betty Miller peering at him from the dimness of the front seat. "Hi, there," she said brightly.
"Hello, Betty." Rick shrugged as he turned back to Harvey. "Would you rather I stay with your car and you take her home in mine?"
"Naw. I have to sign the auto club slip myself. Besides, with an honest John citizen like you bringing her home, her old man will have to believe that I really did have car trouble this time."
"Right." Rick leaned across the seat and unlocked the door. "Come on Betty."
Betty slid out of the driver's side of Harvey's car, and her little mini skirt crept up almost to her waist. From the position of her legs, it was difficult to tell if she was wearing panties or not. Harvey paid no attention to her or her legs. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, patting her shoulder, and then looking over at Rick, "Thanks."
"No sweat," Rick said. "Want me to come back after I've dropped her off?"
Harvey shook his head and said, "Not necessary. I'll manage." A moment later he was lost to sight as Rick turned the corner and sped away.
Rick was all too aware of Betty's body next to him, even though she sat next to the opposite door. She'd made no effort to pull down her skirt when she got into the car. Her well-shaped thighs were really something to look at, he thought, her breasts were proudly upthrusting beneath her sweater and gave ample evidence that she had not bothered to put her bra back on after the beach episode ... if, indeed, she had even worn one at all. He'd be willing to bet that she wasn't wearing panties either. These thoughts and remembrance of the beach scene brought stirring life to Rick's penis again. The vision of Betty being soundly fucked by Harvey came back all too vividly. He knew he was tensing up, knew his prick was beginning to swell painfully again ... knew also that Betty was aware of his tenseness. God, that's all he needed now-another hard on! And with Betty, one Rhonda's best friends.
It was she who spoke first, saying "Look ... I'm sorry we ... Harvey and I ... ah ... interrupted-intruded tonight."
He shrugged. "It's okay. You really didn't see anything anyway, because nothing happened."
"I really didn't think so."
"What do you mean?"
Now she shrugged and gave a knowing little smile. "You're too up tight. You'd be more relaxed ... if something had happened."
"Is it that obvious?" Rick asked, mildly astonished at the girl's boldness.
Betty grinned. "You might say that it's obvious as hell." Without a warning, she reached over and touched the bulge in his trousers. "Like so." The contact created the same result in his loins as a match struck in a gasoline-vapoured chamber. She left her hand, not teasing him, not caressing ... merely resting her fingers on the throbbing cloth lump created by his desire. Betty's eyes were locked on his face; the intensity of her glance was something he could feel. She seemed to be asking silent questions-and receiving silent answers. Rick was aware that he was driving very slowly now-the car was barely moving in fact. His breath caught with the next comment from the girl, "If we hadn't intruded, you wouldn't be up tight. Would you?"
Rick had to force the words out of his suddenly dry throat. "I guess not." He kept his eyes on the road.
"Then ... I'm responsible in a way." She looked over her shoulder out the rear view mirror and then glanced ahead of them. "Keep driving," she ordered. She had some plan, obviously; her actions were unmistakable.
Through a haze of uncertainty and growing heat, Rick felt her hand leave his leg and begin fumbling with his belt. "Take a deep breath," Betty said. He did as instructed, and she quickly unfastened his waistband. A second later his zipper scraped, and her knowledgeable hand and fingers released his hot throbbing cock from the imprisoning confines of his shorts. He groaned deep in his throat as she stroked it a couple of times. "My ... it's beautiful," she said, breathlessly. "So big! So hard!" She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a thick cigar between her fingers. The reflected light from the dashboard instruments showed her hand moving up and down on his long white prick. God, how he had wanted a girl to do that! It was almost more than he could stand. Already, even though only thirty or forty seconds had elapsed, he could feel the gathering thunderheads in his balls. The girl was an expert; she knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He groaned, and his breath began coming faster.
He was so caught up in the delicious sensation that Betty had to make the request twice.
"What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.
"Move the seat back further," she repeated.
Rick mentally knew what was coming next. Eagerly, he reached down on his left for the seat release and pushed with his back. The seat slid all the way back. He was forced to drive with his arms straight out in front of him.
Betty glanced out the rear window again-looking ahead at the vacant street-and ordered, "Just keep driving....Tell me if you see any cars coming from behind. Call this my wedding present to you." She bent forward and her hot lips slipped wetly down over the head of his bulging cock.
"Ahhhhhh," it was a moan of delight wrenched from his soul. Nothing had ever felt so beautiful before, or at least nothing recently. Her tongue flickered at the urethral opening and then ran maddening circles around the head. She had pooched out her lips so that her mouth felt like a soft hot clamping vaginal ring, wonderfully moistened. With her free hand, she reached down into his shorts and began gently squeezing his testicles in rhvthm to her sucking movements. Up and down her mouth moved, gently bobbing like an oil pump pulling precious liquid from the subterranean depths. Rick was about to go out of his mind from the sensation. The girl had said to keep driving, but it was almost impossible to do that because of what he felt. He couldn't have been travelling more than three or four miles an hour when the girl, as if sensing his impending orgasm, began taking the cock deep into her throat. Faster, faster, faster her head moved until Rick could stand it no longer. He arched his back and raised his buttocks off the seat in an effort to jam it further down her throat. She took it all, and as the head of his prick began swelling to enormous size, Betty started sucking voraciously, interspersing the vacuum with occasional little nibbles using her teeth against the trunk and head. The dash lights showed her lips being pulled out grotesquely as they clung to the white driving rod. He continued to push up to meet her, and she continued to take him. His mouth was swollen shut and long hoarse pants of breath whistled through it. His prick felt as though it weighed a ton-a ton of hot molten lava restlessly surging below the surface of a volcano. He knew he was on the verge of cumming and felt he should prepare her but as her motions became more rapid and the suction increased, he suddenly knew it didn't matter. She obviously had done this before; she was an expert. The lava gathered, seethed and boiled. The eruption was imminent ... low guttural noises of delight came rumbling out of his throat. He was cumming ... cumming ... almost there. Almost. Now ... now! Now! The first hot spurts of sperm boiled out of his balls and screamed along the duct heading to the head of his cock. "Ahhhh ... hahhhhh." His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound merely increased his frenzy. The hot cum roared out of his cock in great, smooth gushing quantities and she went on sucking furiously as he shot everything he had into her wonderfully warm, generous, greedy mouth. And still he came, as weeks of pent up frustration and abstinence manifested themselves in almost half a cup of the viscous elixir of love.
She used her tongue to tease, her mouth and lips to suck, until his penis became less osseous and began to deflate. It was as though she felt it necesary to suck every last drop of lust from him. She continued to work until he was sure he was getting ready for another erection, then she suddenly stopped.
Rick gave a mumbling sigh of happy release, and abruptly became aware that his car-lights on, motor running-was standing motionless right in the middle of the street. Betty withdrew her head which was inflamed from her nibbling and smeared with her lipstick. She slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms. Then she kissed him wetly; her tongue darted and licked around his mouth. He could taste the alien taste-the taste of his own sperm in her mouth. Betty's face was slippery-glistening from his seminal juices and streaked with her lipstick. She scooted back over to her own side of the car, opened her purse, and carefully wiped her mouth with a kleenex as he began driving away. He turned onto the street where she lived as she glanced over toward him, "Do I look presentable?"
He inspected her face and nodded. She smiled as he stopped in front of her house and started to get out of the car to open the door for her. "Don't bother," she said quickly and slid out. As her skirt flared up, he realized he had been right; she wasn't wearing panties after all. The crack in her smooth young buttocks was a dark inviting line at the tip of her white thighs.
Rick saw her father part the curtains and stare angrily out into the night. "He's seen you," Betty said. "So now he'll believe the story about Harvey's car." She grinned impishly at him as she closed the car door and leaned through the window, "Did you like my wedding gift?"
"The greatest!"
Her laughter came floating through the cool night air and she tossed back over her shoulder, "Make sure Rhonda sends me a 'thank you' note." She was still laughing when the door closed behind her excessively wiggling little ass.
Relaxed and sleepy, and feeling only a minor pang of remorse at having "betrayed" Rhonda with one of her best friends, Rick drove slowly home. He puzzled over the opposite sexual reactions of the two girls; there was all the difference in the world in them. Rhonda was loving. She had moments of great warmth and tenderness that seemed to engulf him like a pleasant comforter on a cold night. Yet, she had very obvious sexual hang-ups. He knew-from the way she reacted when he caressed her-that she couldn't be frigid ... at least not in the technical sense. She seemed almost "frightened".
Betty was a different proposition. She was 'hot'; from the gossip among the fellows, Rick knew she fucked like a bunny and had been doing so since the freshman year in high school. She also had other talents in the sexual line, as she had just demonstrated! There were a lot of girls in the world like Betty; he had known a few himself before he became engaged to Rhonda. Some of them-already at 14 or 15-were 'tramps', and that, he knew, was the kindest word for them. They pretended sexual excitement, they screwed, they bellowed, when they reached their pitiful little climaxes, but there was always something missing. Betty really couldn't be considered a tramp. She considered sex as merely another adjunct to friendship, and thus she enjoyed a good fuck. She would probably suggest "swapping" after she was married!
But Rhonda? There was an untapped reservoir of passion in her; he could sense it. There was more power, more heat in her loins than in Betty's ... But, how to reach it ... that was another thing entirely.
As he drove into his own garage, he thought sleepily: Maybe Rhonda will change once she gets the wedding ring. He was sure she would, otherwise the marriage would never go. She wasn't at all like her mother-dour and dryed up and seemingly hating me. At least ... he prayed she wasn't like her mother.
As he got out of his car, he felt the dampness of his shorts where the seminal juices had seeped after Betty had finished her ministrations. For a moment, he visualized Rhonda doing that for him; such an act would be clear evidence that she had rid herself of some of the hang-ups.
And, abruptly, he had an erection-just as big and powerful ... and painful, as earlier. The thought of Rhonda doing that to him stayed with him even after he hopped into the shower and until he soaped his penis-running his slippery hands up and down its throbbing trunk. Then ... feeling as foolish as a 15 year old ... he soaped until his huge rod spat out its load against the tile walls of the shower stall. He watched the cum run down the tiles, and he thought: That's the last time I'll ever have to do that again....
CHAPTER THREE
Saturday passed in a whirlwind of activity for Rhonda. The wedding rehearsal was scheduled for four-thirty in the afternoon; it was to be followed by a dinner for the bridesmaids and ushers. Rhonda felt awkward when she met Rick at the church that afternoon; she had planned to apologize to him, to hold him and to have him hold her. Yet, the second she saw him, an unwanted thought boiled up in her mind: He's going to hurt me tomorrow night ... I just know it!
Rick, however, surprised her by apologizing for his short behavior the night before. He seemed much more relaxed and at ease today. Abruptly, Rhonda felt all of her doubts dissipating. He was to be her husband; he would protect her. He would never knowingly hurt her.
And so the rehearsal passed, and Rhonda was glowingly happy as she sat holding hands with him during the rehearsal dinner, listening to the gossip and talk of the other couples. When he kissed her goodnight at the front, it was almost midnight. She responded warmly to him. "This will be the last time," Rhonda said softly, her voice full of love.
"What last time?"
"The last time you'll have to say goodnight like this....Tomorrow night you can whisper it before we go to sleep." She knew that her face was aflame at the boldness of it.
Then she was inside the house, and the spell was lifted immediately. Her mother's sister, Aunt Margaret was talking loudly in the living room. "I still say Rhonda should have had a surgeon inject a local anaesthesia and then cut her hymen. And maybe he could prescribe some sort of suppository she could insert each time before, which would deaden the pain. Why should she suffer needlessly?"
Her mother's voice came whining through. "Oh, I tried to talk to her-to explain the disgusting thing that is going to happen to her ... but she just sat there with that look on her face that said, 'maybe it will be different with me, Mother'. I don't know what else to say to her; I don't want my only daughter to be degraded by some ... some...." Her emotions obviously were getting the better of her.
There was a short pause before Aunt Margaret said, "Did you ever think ... that Rhonda might not still be a virgin?"
"Margaret! What a horrible thing to say!"
"Well?"
"Of course she is. I'm positive she hasn't cheapened herself that way."
There was another pause and then Margaret said, musingly, "Yes ... I suppose you're right. She couldn't hide that from you. She would have been in pain for days when it happened. You would have known."
Rhonda could listen no more. Why, oh why did everyone have to conspire to ruin the most beautiful moment of her life, she thought. Why? Her mother and Aunt Margaret quibbling over her virginity-discussing it as though she were some animal to be trained and doctored. Wasn't this something between her and Rick? Was it anyone else's business? She fought the impulse to run in and shout at them, fought another impluse to run up the stairs. Instead, she forced herself to tiptoe quietly up the stairs to her bedroom. There, hanging on the closet door like some ghostly figure mocking her, was her bridal veil and gown. She reached out one trembling hand to the nylon mesh. She shuddered at the feel of it. Maybe, she thought suddenly, I should call the whole thing off while there's still time....But, she knew that it was already too late.
When she heard Aunt Margaret and her mother calling to her a half hour later, she pretended she was asleep. Her door opened and the two women whispered in the darkness that she must have come in earlier when they were in the kitchen and not wanted to disturb them.
Rhonda felt someone standing next to the bed. Then Annt Margaret's voice said softly, "Look at her ... the poor child. Sleeping so innocently. For the last time."
Her mother's sniffle was the only answer.
That night was spent with Rhonda's body as rigid as a railroad tie. She tried to sleep but found it impossible. When she glanced at the clock it was three o'clock and she thought; only twelve more hours....
When dawn finally came, Rhonda was slumped dejectedly in a chair in front of the window, and was thinking that she still had nine hours in which to extricate herself from the trap of marriage. Sounds began in the kitchen a short time later as her mother and aunt began the day's preparations.
Breakfast, unwanted and tasteless, followed a shower, then the hairdresser arrived to do her hair. Rhonda woodenly answered everyone's questions and made light conversation. And during it all, she was thinking: still three hours to call it off.
Then with a flourish, the dressmaker arrived to assist with the gown and she was followed immediately by two bridesmaids.
And, abruptly, all of the sands had run out. It was time! Rhonda had no cognizance of being taken to the church; in many respects it was like a condemned man spending his last hours before the long walk.
She heard organ music. She was walking-because someone had said to and had nudged her. She saw a sea of smiling faces. She saw Rick's face, strained and smiling at her from the altar. She saw the bridesmaids in front of her.
A face? The minister...."Do you accept this man...."
Her nod and voice from a million miles off, "I do...."
"Do you accept this woman...."
And Rick's voice-hoarse-answering....
"I now pronounce you...." The strident roar of the organ, the brillant blindness of the sunshine outside the chapel ... the flash of the photographer's camera. The sting of thrown rice ... the shouted congratulations and, from a couple of the junior high school kids who had been invited, "You'll be sorr-eee." The reception line-a never-ending line of faces and kisses and mouths uttering words she couldn't comprehend. The cutting of the cake. Everything a blur. Then the removal of the gown and into the tweed traveling suit. A cream colored corsage being pinned to her coat....
Then Rick again ... meeting her in the hallway of the second floor outside her bedroom ... holding her. A shout as the reception guests saw them. A mad dash down the front steps to Rick's car ... the car door slamming....People shouting gleefully. The sound of Rick's car starting, the screech of tires as he attempted to elude the jokers who followed with their horns honking loudly.
And the last-the very last-view of her house. Mother, and Aunt Margaret ... like two dark accusing angels of doom, standing there silently, not waving ... merely watching the car as it drove off ... an expression of grief on her mother's face....
She began weeping. Rick patted her hand. "C-Kay?" he asked solicitously.
"Yes," she lied, through a muffled handkerchief, "I'm just happy."
"This time tomorrow, we'll be in Ireland. And tomorrow night we'll be at the castle."
So filled with dread was Rhonda at the thought of this first night stretching in front of her that she didn't respond to his excitement.
"Just think," he continued eagerly. "Two more weeks of doing nothing but lying in the sun and swimming all day ... and making love all night."
"Yes, darling. It will be lots of fun," she said, not believing her own statement. The fright was beginning to boil up inside her again.
Rhonda became more silent-more tense-with each passing mile as they drove closer to the airport hotel where they would stay the night prior to boarding the plane early tomorrow morning. She tried to purge her mother's voice from her mind, but it came creeping back like a fog. "Dear God," she prayed silently, "don't let me be like mother and Aunt Margaret. Don't make it repulsive or painful...." The dread, however, continued to rise in her. She was close to tears when they checked into the hotel. The manager almost seemed to smirk at her when he led the way to their suit. Inside, there was a bottle of champagne on ice-courtesy of the house-and inscribed, "To the honeymooners".
Almost frantic with fear by now, Rhonda pressed the manager to join them for a toast as she didn't want to be left alone with Rick. The manager merely smiled and gave his regrets. He expressed that the two 'love-birds' should be alone together and wished them a good night.
The door closed and the nightmare began. Rick tried to take her in his arms, but she reflexly put both hands against his chest and pushed him back. "What's wrong?" he asked genuinely perplexed.
"Nothing," she lied. "Just a splitting headache ... I'll take an aspirin and be all right in a bit
... maybe you should take a shower?"
He looked concerned. "Is there anything I can do?"
"No, it'll go away. Take a shower...."
Rick grinned in mistaken understanding. "Ah ... I bet I know. You want to get rid of me while you change your clothes ... and get into something more ... ah ... comfortable." He wriggled his eyebrows.
Rhonda anxiously seized the remark. "Yes! Yes, darling!"
"All right. One shower coming up." Rick laughed and took off his coat. He opened his suitcase and brought out a new pair of blue silk pajamas. He held them up for inspection. "Pretty sexy, eh? Just wait until you see them on me." He kissed her passionately and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later she heard the water running and his voice being raised in song.
Quickly, she removed her clothes and slipped into the white peignoir purchased for the honeymoon. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she blushed in shame. When she had tried on the negligee in the store she had been wearing panties under it. Now, however, it clearly showed the small dark triangle of her pubic hair and the brown nipples of her breasts. She opened the bed, climbed in, and pulled the covers up around her throat. Two minutes later Rick, somewhat flustered, came out of the bathroom. The reason for his chagrin was plainly evident; the front of his pa jama bottom bulged as though he had a huge banana protruding from between his legs.
"It must have been something they put in the soap," he said, making a feeble joke.
Rhonda did not laugh; she cringed deeper into the bed. Although she had felt his penis through his trousers before and although he had touched her with it before, never-not in her wildest imaginations-had she conceived it was as big as it seemed to be. Through the pajamas it appeared to be at least twice as large as Bruce's had been.
Now she knew what her mother had been trying to say; no woman's body could safely take that huge bulging staff. It would split her apart like a Parker House roll. She whimpered when Rick came alongside the bed. That ... that thing was only inches away from her head as he turned out the light. Then she felt the covers being pulled back and Rick's body and his huge male organ of destruction pressing against her side. Without preliminaries, he kissed her-possessively at first and then with rapidly increasing passion. She responded only perfunctorily when he tried to shove his tongue down her throat.
Rick drew back from her. He leaned over on one elbow, "What's wrong, darling?" he asked.
"Nothing," the word was said so softly it was almost inaudible as she lay there transfixed with fright.
"Are you nervous?"
She leapt at the remark as though it were a life preserver. Perhaps if she admitted it, he would leave her alone tonight. So she said. "Yes ... terribly so."
Rick laughed. "Well, then. We'll just have to take care of that nervousness. I've got just the thing to remove nervous strain. Leave everything to me." He kissed her neck and his hot wet tongue traced a design down to the top of her gown. She felt his hands pull down the straps and then he began caressing her bare breasts. She felt nothing except the fear pounding within her heart. He bent forward and glued his lips to the left breast, and his teeth playfully teased and bit the nipple. Soon his hands moved like conquerors across her taut belly and sought the hem of her gown. He pulled it up so her loins were naked and open to him. Slowly, using his middle finger, he began moving it between her thighs and up and down across the length of her vagina lips. There was none of the excitement she had felt that night at the beach ... none of the fire and none of the beauty. Only numbness-a deadening absence of sensation. Rhonda quivered in fright, and Rick took this motion to mean that she was shivering in excitement. "Like that," he asked, not waiting for an answer. He tweaked her clitoris. She felt nothing, could feel nothing. It was as though her body now was elsewhere. Her husband was fondling a lifeless statue.
Then Rick suddenly rose up in bed. She felt him struggling with his pajamas. He removed his top ... then kicked the bottoms out of bed where they lay in a heap on the floor. When he stretched out full length beside her, she could feel the hair on his chest against her bare shoulder, his hairy legs against her smooth ones, and ... and that thing! ... which seemed hotter and larger than ever.
She was absolutely cold with terror when Rick spread her legs apart gently. Then he swung his legs over her thigh and put his knee between her legs. She lay there, close to panic, trembling with a fear that Rick mistakenly accepted as desire. She felt him fumbling for a moment, then the head of his hardened penis was pressing against the still dry lips of her vagina. When he touched her with it, it was as if someone had struck a smoldering soldering iron against her bare unprotected skin.
"Don't hurt me, Rick ... please. Oh, God ... don't hurt me," she whimpered, trying to press herelf into the mattress.
Rick was breathing heavily and he did not answer. He still reacted in a gentle fashion, however. He slowly pushed forward, spreading the sparse young pubic hair and the head of his cock slipped into the virginal portals of her vagina. She winced, "You're hurting me."
He moved the head of his prick in and out between the red full lips of her vagina; he did not seek to penetrate, merely lubricate it. In spite of her fear, Rhonda could feel a moistness beginning down there as her body responded automatically. Perhaps, she thought, it will be all right after all.
Then, he began to really hurt her when he tried to push it in even further between her thighs. "No ... Rick ... stop!" Rick stopped. And she repeated, "You're hurting me."
It was then he said it. She heard it and interpreted it as a confirmation of everything her mother had tried to warn her about. He said, "It always hurts a little the first couple of times."
"No, then. I don't want to do it!" she whimpered.
"Yes, you do," he insisted, and pressed his now heavily throbbing cock in a bit further.
"No ... please." She felt as though he were already ripping her apart and he had only the head in-what would happen when he tried to insert the other seven inches?
Suddenly, Rick made one long hard, thrusting motion. "Gaaaaaghhh," she screamed. His hips fell heavily between her wide-spread thighs, and she was pinned like a helpless butterfly to the bed.
"No ... God! No," she cried aloud. "Help me...." The words simply goaded Rick on to a maniacal frenzy. He shoved his pelvis hard into her squirming defenseless crotch ... seeking to reach that soft yielding belly that had been denied to him for over a year. She was squeeling like a stuck pig as his cock reached the hymen and ripped through it like tissue paper touched with a glowing red poker. She splayed her legs out widely in the air in an effort to spread her cunt even wider-seeking to ease the agony ... but it was hopeless. The cruel impalement was killing her, and he still did not have it all the way in. Down, down, down, ever deeper his rampaging cock ripped until she could feel the agonizing head of it finally coming to rest buried all the way to what seemed to be her navel. His rigid fleshy column was there only a second; he didn't even give her a chance to adjust to it. His motion-back and forth-became a wild demented thing. He pulled out, slammed it in-seemingly trying to drive it ever deeper into her tortured pain-filled belly. Finally, and it seemed an eternity, although it couldn't have been more than a minute or two later, she felt his prick begin to throb as the hot eager cum spurted from him and flooded her virginal womb.
All, in all, he came three more times before he finally pulled his penis from her vagina, before he stopped violating her body and went to sleep. Each time he had grunted and groaned out his climax and she had felt it spurting inside her, and it was more painful, more disgusting than the first. Rhonda wept silently. Her vagina was a throbbing nest of agony, and her silent desperate screams echoed through her mind, and she saw her mother's tightly pressed lips saying, "See ... I tried to tell you."
At dawn the phone rang. Rhonda, who had not been asleep, wearily reached over to the bed table and answered to be told by the Hotel Manager that it was five-thirty. Rhonda thanked him without feeling. Rick stirred and groaned beside her. "Whasszit?" he mumbled.
"Five-thirty," she answered. "The airport limousine leaves at seven. I'll take my shower first if you like."
Rick cocked one eye at her and made a sleepy effort to grin lewdly. "Why don't we both shower together?"
"No...." she shook her head. "No."
He shrugged. "Okay, take yours first." He rolled over and was asleep again.
Rhonda got out of bed, wincing at the painful tenderness in her abdomen. Her belly actually felt as if someone had kicked her there. She felt as if she had been cut open in the crotch. When she looked down at the sheet, she saw it was all matted over a large area with brown blood and dried semen. Wide-eyed with horror, she gazed at her new peignoir. There was blood and sperm all over it. She ran for the toilet and put her head there while she vomited.
She used almost an entire bar of soap cleaning herself, but it did no good. She still felt dirty ... degraded.
When she got out of the shower and began towelling herself, she noticed that the blood had begun to seep again from her injured womb.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rick wheeled the rented car around a curve on the side of a hill and saw the castle down below on the shores of a rather large lake. The sight was right off of a travel poster. He glanced over to see if Rhonda had awakened yet but she slept on. The poor kid, he thought; she had said she hadn't been able to sleep at all for the last three nights. He put it down to bridal nerves, just as he put down her coldness and reluctance to participate in the sex act to nerves. She had slept all the way over on the flight-not even waking for supper.
Gently, he reached out and shook her awake. "Rhonda, we're here."
Rhonda came awake slowly, her mind swimming reluctantly to the surface of consciousness. Then she remembered and abruptly sat upright. Her muscles ached and her entire body felt as if she had been drugged. Rick was smiling at her, and suddenly she felt a great wave of tenderness and love go out to him. Now that she had had some rest, she was once more determined to make him a good wife. She loved him. That and the knowledge that he loved her would be enough for her. She would permit him sex-as much as he wanted-and she hoped that he would never know how much pain he was bringing each time he entered her body. Impulsively, she bent over and kissed his cheek. Rick nodded his head toward the castle. Rhonda took a deep breath when she saw the lake. It was a land for long hikes, for walking hand in hand and communing with nature. Below her, the castle looked to be from another time. There was a small dock and a large white sandy beach.
"Oh, Rick, darling. It's so beautiful." The sight alone had made the journey worthwhile she thought.
Rick grinned at her animation. It was the first time since before the wedding that she seemed to be her old self-happy and vivacious ... and affectionate. Last night at the hotel he had moments when he felt as if he were raping a stranger. He simply didn't understand it. She hadn't cum and he had cum four times. When he thought about it, she was the first woman-out of the dozens he had had-that he hadn't been able to build up to a rip-roaring climax. But, of course, she was his first virgin ... and maybe virgins react differently....
Up close, the castle was U-shaped and looked larger than it had from a distance. It had four stories and it faced the lake.
Rick stepped out of the car and saw the woman coming towards him. Tall, full-breasted, black short hair, and a splendid mature figure, she smiled and waved in greeting. A wide generous mouth, smoldering passionate black eyes, and a rich tan which indicated more than a little Latin in her blood. Rick thought with some delight and an instinctive tightening in his groin: My God, what a sexy woman! And Rhonda, with considerable envy, felt almost child-like.
"Hallo," she said warmly. "I'm Noreen Monroe. You must be Rick and Rhonda Talbot." Her voice was melodic and sweet with just a hint of Irish in it. "We are," Rhonda answered smiling timidly at her.
"Hello, Rhonda," Then she held her hand out to Rick. "Hello ... welcome," she said, shaking hands with him. Her grip was especially strong for a woman, and she had a disconcerting way of looking at a man ... gazing right at him with such intensity that Rick felt as if he were drowning in her eyes. And even though he was on his honeymoon, Rick felt a sudden guilty feeling that he would like nothing better than to have those long legs wrapped around his buttocks, those breasts straining against his chest, and those full lips tightened back against her teeth in lust ... as he pounded his hardened cock into her steaming pussy.
Noreen's lower lip dropped almost imperceptibly as if she knew his thoughts. Then she turned to Rhonda. "You must be weary after your long trip. Come, I'll take you to your room so you can freshen up. Leave the bags. I'll have one of the boys bring them up to you."
Rick watched the two women walking in front of him; it was not a good comparison. Noreen obviously was all woman-and very sure of herself. Rhonda had every bit as good a figure-not quite as tall, but offsetting this was her undeniable femininity, a sort of helplessness that made a male want to protect her. Actually, the main difference between the two women lay in their projected sensuality and poise. Rhonda seemed almost adolescently self-conscious as she walked next to Noreen, and if Rick had been able to read Rhonda's mind at that very moment, he would have realized just how-inferior his wife felt.
Noreen led them to a large well decorated room on the third floor. Large windows looked out over the lake and surrounding hills. "This is your sitting room," Noreen said. "Wood for the fireplace is in the box there." She opened a connecting door. "This is your bedroom. I'm sure you'll find it comfortable." There was a big king-size bed under a blue and white canopy. She indicated another door which was to the shower which Rick noticed was big enough for three people; it had an overhead nozzle and two fine spray nozzles which shot a stream of water midriff-front and back. Rick couldn't help thinking, "What a great playpen!" Something must have shown on his face, because Noreen dimpled and Rhonda blushed.
"Dr. Monroe and I would like you to be our guests for cocktails before dinner this evening," Noreen said.
Rhonda glanced at Rick who replied, "That's very kind of you, Mrs. Monroe."
"You must call me Noreen. And Dr. Monroe shall insist that you call him Dick.
"All right, Noreen," Rick said. "What time?"
"Well ... let's see. You're the only guests we have at the moment. Lord Folsome and Lady Jane will be checking in tomorrow; then we have another young American couple due in on Thursday.
So we can be flexible about dinner time tonight. How about an hour from now?"
Rhonda felt grimy after the flight and car trip. She said, "I would like to take a shower, and change into something else."
Noreen was apologetic, "Of course, my dear. How thoughtless of me. I'll have your bags brought up at once." She glanced at her watch. "It's five-thirty now. Shall we say seven-thirty?"
Neither Rhonda nor Rick were ready for Dr. Monroe when they met him two hours later. He had a stern military bearing about him which was deceptive, for he turned out to be just as warm and friendly as Noreen. He was about 6'2" and weighed around 220-and it was a lean 220 at that. A grey mustache cut a thin line across his lips. All in all, Rhonda thought as she stared at him, he cuts a dashing figure ... like something out of a liquor ad or a Scotland Yard suspense film. He, like his wife, exuded an animal like sensuality.
Rick and Rhonda both felt at ease with them during drinks in the huge library. This was surprising in view of the fact that Noreen was in her mid thirties and Dick probably in his middle or late forties.
From the library they went to the baronial hall-like dinning room where the four of them were served by a dour and silent old Irish maid. It was not until the final course that Rhonda got around to asking, "What kind of a Doctor are you, Dick?"
"A retired one," he said smiling mysteriously.
Noreen said, "Dick, don't tease." She turned to Rhonda and said, "He's a gynecologist ... or was ... a very successful one and famous I might add."
Dick snorted as though enjoying a private joke and a look of warning was flashed by his wife. As brief as it was, it sufficed, for the man came back to his winning ways again. "All sorts of rich ladies with all sort of rich ladies' problems." He shrugged and laughed. "A very lucrative profession. I made enough in ten years to refurbish the family castle. And here I am."
Noreen commented, "Actually, Dick is much too modest. He has a great many other talents. Right now he's doing some very important research on ESP ... Extra Sensory Perception."
Dick looked up and said, "It's mainly a hobby-something to keep me busy-although the government is interested in the experiments. I believe that ESP can be enhanced by putting a person in a light hypnotic state; then we place someone very close to this person in another room and attempt to establish communication between the two."
Rick, whose eyes had widened, said unbelievingly, "You mean mental telepathy?"
Dick nodded and smiled. "I can understand your doubt. I'd be incredulous myself if I hadn't received proof that it seems to work ... at least with some people."
Rhonda was sitting engrossed. This was the most fascinating thing she had ever listened to in her life.
Noreen aid casually, "Why not try the basic experiments tonight, using Rick and Rhonda? Let them see for themselves."
"Oh, could we?" Rhonda blurted out.
Rick added, "That would be one sure way of making a believer out of me."
Monroe shook his head and frowned. "No ... I don't think it's...."
Rhonda interrupted and pleaded in a little girl's voice, "Please?"
Noreen laughed, "You've piqued their curiosity, Dick. You won't be a good host until you show them how it works."
Monroe glanced from Rick to Rhonda and then over to Noreen. He said, "I generally need more time to get to know my subjects better." He looked thoughtfully and then nodded, "All right. Let's try it anyway. It may not work, but...."
Rhonda was feeling slightly apprehensive when she followed the Monroes into the library. She had never been hypnotized before ... it would be a novel experience ... and a little frightening. Rick, now that he had talked up, was suffering some qualms too.
Monroe moved a large blue leather chair out into the center of the room and then turned a rheostat on the wall until the lights dimmed. A switch was pushed and a thin beam shone down out of the ceiling. "Rhonda, you sit here." Soft harp and flute music floated out of hidden speakers.
Shivering with suppressed excitement, Rhonda did as she was told. With great ceremony, Monroe took down a black leather box from the mantel. He opened it and brought out into the light a green pear-shaped amulet on a gold chain. Then he removed a sealed white envelope and handed it to Rick. "These are your test messages. So you won't think it's some kind of trick, I would like Rhonda to give you three numbers between one and twenty before you leave the room. You will read and follow the directions opposite each of the numbers. For example, if she said 'four, eighteen and twenty,' you would read paragraph four-where it says you are to concentrate on an image of a cow chewing grass. And so on ... understand?"
Rick nodded. Noreen took his arm and said, "Come on. Our station is in the waiting room across the hall." Rick was too aware of her hand on his arm; her presence up close was a tangible thing.
"Wait!" Monroe ordered. "You don't have the numbers." He turned to the girl, "All right, Rhonda."
She thought and then blinked and smiled. "Three, seven and ... uh ... fourteen."
When they got to the waiting room, Noreen reached in front of him to open the massive door. The bodice of her dinner gown opened and Rick saw-with an immediate feeling of hunger-that she was not wearing a bra for those magnificent breasts. Quickly, he forced his eyes away. He thought Noreen looked amused. "Sit here," she said, motioning to the sofa. Noreen seated herself beside him and handed over the envelope. "Three, seven and fourteen," she said.
Rick ripped the envelope open and withdrew several typewritten sheets of paper. "Do you mind if I read over your shoulder?" Noreen asked, and the perfume of her breath was almost an aphrodisiac of its own. She didn't wait for permission. She slid right over until their bodies were touching. The heat of her thigh was like a blow torch there. Rick swallowed; he could feel desire for this woman beginning to boil up in him. He wondered, for about the twentieth time since they met, how she would be in bed ... how it would feel to have his hardened cock deep within those loins. Noreen leaned forward in order to see the paper better, and once again her gown gaped. Seemingly without thinking, she put her hand on his knee. Her lips were only inches away as she began to read aloud, "number Three; you are to think of a train. The cars will flash past you and you will concentrate on the windows and the faces of people inside the car. A close relative of the subject should be one of the people you concentrate on ... a father, mother, sister but not yourself." Noreen remained in close after she had finished reading; Rick could feel her left breast against his upper arm. "Christ," he said to himself, "how can I concentrate with those tits. Noreen had better watch it or I'm going to make a grab for her ... that'll really fuck up the honeymoon."
His voice was hoarse and uncertain when he asked, "How long does it take to hypnotize her?"
Noreen drew back just a bit. "Only seconds if she's susceptible. Many people can't be hypnotized, however. In that case Dick will want to hypnotize you instead of Rhonda."
In the library, Monroe was just completing his incantation as he swung the glowing amulet in front of the girl's glazed eyes which were unseeing. "You are so drowsy ... so sleepy ... you cannot keep your eyes opened. Sleep ... sleep ... sleep." Rhonda's head fell to her chest. Monroe dropped the amulet into the box and withdrew a needle, which he pricked against the girl's shapely right buttock. She did not stir. Satisfied, he said, "Rhonda, can you hear me?"
"Yes...."
"Rhonda ... at two o'clock tomorrow morning, you will awaken to find your husband getting into bed with you. It may look like me ... but it will be your husband. Do you understand?"
"It will be my husband."
"Yes, it will be your husband. Now, when I count to ten, you will begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did not work for you. You will recall nothing. One, two, three ... seven, eight...." He snapped his fingers and Rhonda's eyes blinked open.
Rhonda had felt that she couldn't be hypnotized and this turned out to be true. Finally they decided to try Rick and then Monroe suggested she could serve as the communicator.
Rick was reluctant to be a guinea pig, however. But when he saw the disappointment on Rhonda's face, he decided to go along. "I won't fight you but I don't really think you can do it."
Monroe merely shrugged. "It's possible I can't. Your wife wasn't susceptible to hypnosis." He laughed. "I almost put myself to sleep."
Monroe adjusted the spotlight beam for Rick's added height and withdrew the pendant again. "Now, watch the jewel as it swings ... back and forth ... back ... and forth ... in front of you. Keep your eyes on it, Rick ... concentrate on it as it swings ... see how the light seems to glow from deep within."
Two minutes later, Monroe stood with an evil look on his face. He jabbed the needle into Rick's calf; the boy did not move. "All right, Rick. Tomorrow morning at two o'clock, you will get out of bed and walk down the hallway to the end, turn left and walk to the end of that hallway, then you are to go through the open door to the right. You will get into bed with your wife; you will want to please her in whatever way you can. You will do exactly what she asks. It will be your wife ... although it may look like Noreen ... it will be your wife. Do you understand?"
"I will do anything my wife wants ... it will be my wife."
"Yes, it will be your wife. Now when I count to ten, you will begin to wake up. You will not remember being hypnotized; hypnosis did not work with you. One, two three...."
Rick was having a difficult time keeping a straight face as he waited for Monroe to try and hypnotize him. He was sure it wouldn't work, and he felt amusement-even pity-and Monroe picked up his cheap pendant and began swaying it in front of his eyes. Really, he thought, it was just like something from the early movies.
Half an hour later, after the final brandy of the evening, Rick and Rhonda were still feeling somewhat guilty about the fact that Monroe had been unable to hypnotize them.
"Goodnight ... goodnight, thank you for a love-ly evening ... it was a pleasure...." Rick and Rhonda climbed the stairs to their room. When Rick kissed her and pulled her toward the big couch in front of the fireplace, Rhonda suddenly felt her earlier gaiety evaporate. It was, she thought, no time for sex. Oh, how she hated that word ... disgusting and degrading ... pain-filled and terrible. She would have to let him do it to her once but then she would tell him she was too sore. He would understand.
Downstairs, a lewdly grinning Dick and Noreen Monroe held up brandy snifters in a toast. "Here's to a good double fuck," Monroe said.
The cat-like glow in Noreen's eyes abruptly became an all-consuming flame. "To a very good fuck for us both!" She laughed shrilly. "I can hardly wait. My God! Did you see the size of his cock when he stepped out of the shower! Mammoth. Beautiful!" She gritted her teeth as she visualized once again the two of them looking through the bathroom's one-way mirror at the boy as he unsuspectingly towelled himself dry.
"I thought the girl had a fine little ass!" Monroe said thoughtfully.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rhonda abruptly came awake; it was as though a switch had been thrown in her body. She was fully aware of everything ... the moonlight streaming in through the windows, the fading echoes of the clock downstairs striking two, the breathing of the man who stood beside the bed.
Perhaps it was the moonlight that made everything seem like it was happening inside a dream, that her mind was elsewhere-confined to limbo. "Rhonda?" Even Rick's voice seemed different, accented.
She turned and looked up at him. In the unreal light he seemed taller, older than Rick. He looked like someone she knew ... but the vaporous quality of the moment refused to solidify. "This man is your husband," a voice in her brain whispered. "Yes ... Rick."
"Good, you're awake." The covers were pulled back and the figure slid into bed with her. She felt his body move in next to hers; then that body was pressing nakedly and urgently against her side. With a sudden tightening of her muscles and a feeling of despair, Rhonda realized Rick had an erection. Against her hip his penis felt different-considerably smaller, but hard!
His voice said, "Well, darling. I'm not really all right. I have this problem which only you can take care of." He moved his penis suggestively up and down against her side.
"Rick, I don't think I can do it again tonight. I'm much too sore. It's so painful."
"Then we shall simply have to do it another way, won't we, pet?" He had taken her chin in his hand and turned her face toward him. His breath had a vaguely exciting hot brandy smell as his lips kissed her eyes closed. His hot wet tongue sought out her ear; she stiffened as it shot into the cavity. The sensation, though strange, was definitely erotic. Rick had never kissed her this way before! Then his tongue was in her mouth, tracing wild abandoned designs against her teeth and inner folds of her lips. This too was exciting in a way it had never been before. She began responding eagerly; once, when he tongue hit his upper lip, she thought: How strange ... Rick has grown a mustache.
"You wonderful creature," he said, just as his hands began moving all over her body. He went first to the flushed bulbs of her breasts, and each individual pore of his fingers seemed minute vacuums tugging at her flesh. He tongue-kissed her again, then his lips fastened-gently sucking-at a place where her gracefully sloping neck muscles joined the top of the shoulder. A tingle of excitement arched along the muscles. He moved her elbow out from the body and his mouth moved down until it was licking and kissing the sensitive flesh on the inner arm and armpit. A moment later, slowly and tantalizingly, his lips kissed their way to the left breast. She felt him there at her nipple, like a thirsty person sucking juice from luscious fruit. Not once, in his gentleness, did he hurt her.
As his teeth teased sensuously at her nipples and his knowing hands kneaded the flesh of her buttocks, Rhonda suddenly realized that her body was reacting ... in a most pleasurable manner. She purred deep in her throat as his lips moved on to her right breast, then to her right armpit, and traced an exciting trail of fiery desire down across her rib cage to her navel. One of his hands left the pleasantly tingling mounds of flesh on her buttocks and began stroking the underside of her knee and the soft inner thigh.
"Ummmm," she purred, as his tongue flickered at her navel. Rhonda wasn't exactly sure when his fingertips brushed against her pubic hair, all she knew for sure was that suddenly he had reached the vagina. She gave a little gasp of fright and flattened her buttocks down into the mattress; his hand was trapped, unable to move. He sought to move his fingers, but her thighs were like a hot flesh vise.
"Rhonda," he said, "open your legs."
"No ... it hurts."
"Daddy will kiss it to make it better."
What had he said? Eh ... what did he mean? Kiss it? "Rick?" she began, but she had her answer in the next moment, for his tongue had left the warm cottony cave of her belly button and marched boldly across the bare plains of her abdomen and into the silken forest of her sparse young pubic hair.
"Rick?" she groaned again, not sure what he was doing. She eased the pressure of her thighs and his hand was freed from captivity. She tensed again as he nuzzled the cheek in the fleece of her pubic mound and used his thumb and forefinger to lightly separate the soft fleshy lins of her vagina. Oddly enough, he was so gentle that she hardly felt his touch, much less pain. Whatever Rick had in mind was totally new and alien and unsuspected to her ... she was apprehensive. He moved his head down to her thigh and kissed it-starting again with that very sensitive area behind the knee, moving upward, ever upward-occasionally taking large sucking erotic bites of the inner thigh flesh into his mouth, and, at other times using his tongue as a stylus to sear flaming trails of desire into her trembling body.
Then his tongue reached the soft protruding folds of her young pulsating pussy. She sat upright, forcing his head away. "No, Rick, no."
"Why not?"
"I hurt there...."
"I'll kiss it to make it better." he repeated softly.
She pulled his head up to breast level. She had to say something and so she took a deep breath and told him the whole story of her mother and her mother's mother and the something that was wrong with them. She told how her mother told her the day before the marriage. "So you must be gentle and not expect too much of me." Even as she said it her mind was reeling with guilt and she felt like weeping. She was not prepared for his sudden bark of laughter.
"What absolute rubbish," he said, inconsiderately. "Look, my little pet, I know a great deal about women's personal problems. What you claim is something that is simply not organically possible. Psychologically possible, yes! We have a name for acute painful sexual intercourse. It's called mental vaginalismus, or more plainly, monosymptomatic hysteria. Get that word 'hysteria', because that's exactly what it is-a form of nervous hysteria."
"I tell you it hurts; it's excrutiating."
"You think it hurts. You've been brain-washed. And I am going to prove it. I am your husband and I will not harm you ... you will answer my questions truthfully."
"I will answer your questions truthfully." She had no will to resist. Her body felt as if it had turned to foam rubber.
"Rhonda, have you ever reached a climax-had an orgasm? Any kind-even from masturbation?"
"No ... I have never masturbated ... to ... completion. It is self-abuse ... sinful."
"I thought so. All right, now lie there ... relax ... and let your body speak to you about how it really feels." He began kissing her breasts again.
His mouth moved away and began nibbling at the small fold of flesh right below her navel. He bit where her hip bones and thighs joined. Her body had begun to purr again. Then his hot angry mouth spread the soft fleecy pubic hair and fastened over the fleshy opening of the vaginal tunnel leading to her womb. A sudden jolt of pure feeling arched through her loins as he began noisily sucking the vaginal lips; it was a gentle vacuum, tugging and caressing the nerve ends.
'Ahhhhh," she crooned softly.
"Aahhhhh!" she repeated, this time loudly, as his tongue began licking the entire length of her open cuntal slit-rimming from anus to clitoris.
"Ahhhh ... oooooh," she gasped, as first his lips and then his teeth found the hard little clitoris. She strained her hips up to his mouth, arching her back and planting her feet in the mattress in an effort to rise and meet him.
"AAHHH ... AHEEEEE!" she screamed, as his hot quivering tongue went boldly into the tunnel of her cunt, moving in and out as though it were a small sure penis. She was aware that her breath was coming raggedly from her taut lips, that she had reached down to his head-not to push him away but to keep him there ... forever! Passion screamed boiling out of her lips, out of her soul.
Oh, how his tongue and lips and teeth all worked together in a fully orchestrated symphony of pure feeling! She could feel things happening down there-wild, uninhibited, beautiful things ... of nerve endings singing and screaming in delight, of muscles flexing and unflexing in joy, of flesh and bones and pores all in harmony. She was revolving her hips in a grinding, circular motion against his avaricious, indomitable mouth.
"Don't stop, Rick. Oh, God ... no ... don't stop, darling!" she panted, for now something else was happening down there. Everything was rubbing against each other-like nylon and wool-throwing off sparks. She had never thought she would feel this; she thought she was incapable of it. And then as though a miracle, she was cumming! She could tell because body and soul were separating.
"Uh ... uhhh? Ahhh ... ah ... ah ... ah?" It was a question, a plea! She raised her buttocks clear up from the mattress and, as she did so, his tongue left her vagina and his teeth and lips clamped hard on her gently pulsating clitoris. She screamed, and she knew she was screaming loudly. "Go on ... Go on. Go!" Now, like desert mirages in midday heat, her womb began to dissolve. Her insides had become roaring cataracts racing and dancing toward the sea ... and their white waters bubbled, raged, boiled, and spurted from her cunt-like torrents from a broken dam-as she screamed again, "I'm cumming!" There was nothing in the universe but that one great pit and pendulum of sensation and release. Her ears heard not, her eyes saw not, her mind thought not. Only the cunt was there-the almighty cunt!-stronger than all her other organs put together, and it screamed out a song of ecstasy that would not be denied. That sweet, intolerable delight stayed with her for ten million eternities, and during it all she lay gasping and thrashing against his voraciously hungry lips.
It finally ended. But not with a bang, but like the slow fading of summer's first sunset. She felt him kiss the warm flooded area between her thighs once more, then his mouth moved back to her hips. She could feel her cum cool and damp on her thighs and buttocks. Then he used his free hand to turn her on her side. He kissed the right buttock, then continued to press her over until she was lying face down. Rhonda didn't resist; her will power had been completely vaporized by the velvet explosion that had only moments ago torn her asunder.
Sensation was slow to return but it did ... and when it did she was aware that he was reverently kissing her smooth oval buttocks. Occasionally he would desist to lick a teasingly sensitive spot at the base of her spine, but he always came back to the soft rounded mounds of flesh to kiss and gently nibble. A warm blazing glow began to spread throughout her anal area as new and recharged blood pounded through the revitalized muscle paths.
She heard him utter as though he were an art connoisseur, "Such untouched beauty ... such a sweet, young little ass ... so supple, so soft and warm, so charmingly shaped and virginal." Now, he gradually changed his activity there. He interspersed his kisses with occasional little bites. They weren't painful-not too painful. She sensed he was getting ready to do something different again, and she knew whatever it was would be heavenly if it were only half as delightful as the thing he had just done. Nothing, however, had prepared her for what came next. His kisses, his nibbling became more urgent. Suddenly, he pushed her legs apart and then knelt behind her. She felt him use his thumbs to spread her soft yielding buttocks wide apart and then ... His tongue was moving again, now licking the inner crevice that joined her vaginal slit below.
Once she had recovered from momentary embarrassment, she thought it was an odd sensation. Not displeasing and not really erotic. His hot wet trembling tongue moved the length of her anal crevice; she felt the first stirrings of excitement when it lingered over the base of her spine again. Then he backed off and down. "Rick," she gasped, as she felt his tongue tip quiver against the tiny puckered anus and then wetly worm its way into it. A forbidden, wicked pleasure shot through her loins. "You mustn't ... It's not right," she groaned.
Now he pulled his mouth away. "Anything is right between a man and a woman-so long as it gives pleasure and not offense. And I know you're having pleasure ... you're a natural for this. Believe me, I can tell!"
"But ... but...."
He laughed. "Butt is right! You have a delightful little butt. And I'm going to make love to you there. I'm going to fuck you there, Rhonda."
"Oh, no, darling, you can't," she protested.
"And why not?"
"It isn't right, darling ... it isn't right...."
He repeated, "Anything is right between a husband and wife." Then he lowered his head again. She felt his hands beneath her hips pulling her belly up off the mattress. She wasn't kneeling except her smooth rounded buttocks waved up in the air. She felt foolish; she felt obscenely naked with her unprotected behind upturned that way. But still, he was her husband and he wouldn't hurt her.
She felt his tongue leave her anus, to be replaced by a finger that probed as if it, too, wanted to enter the tight forbidden passageway and she immediately tensed. Then suddenly, he reached up, grabbed a pillow, and slipped it beneath her stomach to keep her from falling flat again, ... At the same time, the finger back there had begun a gentle little sawing movement against her tightly puckered anal ring. Now he was pressing in tighter, tighter. She winced and groaned, trying to push her belly down into the pillow and abruptly the finger nail was inside her. She was rather surprised. Somehow, she had thought it would hurt, but it didn't. It was, in all honesty, sort of pleasant ... as long as she relaxed!
Now he was sawing continuously-nothing abrupt-always gentle, but always pressing in a bit deeper. She moved her hips experimentally, then discovered the best movement was one using the leg and belly muscles to raise her buttocks back. "That's a good girl," he said soothingly. "Such a good girl, with such a fine little asshole. You'll need next to no instructions ... pure instincts, I wager."
"Rick, you mustn't talk like that," she protested through her soft mewls of pleasure. Her protest was rewarded by laughter from him. Finally the finger was all the way up to the knuckle and his palm was pressing too tightly against her buttocks as he began to make tiny circular motions inside with his finger-almost as if he wanted to expand the opening. She wanted to pass wind, but held back-much too embarrassed. When the finger returned, it seemed much thicker. Then she realized he was using two fingers. "That hurts," she whimpered slightly, knowing it was a lie but feeling she should protest.
"Be calm, my love. It can't hurt very much ... you'll be fine in a second."
Actually, she thought, it really wasn't painful ... but she knew she was being stretched there. She supposed that his two fingers, however, were less than her evacuation; she remembered as a child having wondered how something so large could come from such a tiny opening.
The two fingers were sawing in concert now. She wiggled her ass in the air and she felt her muscles, deep in her belly, milk at the finger. This brought delighted laughter from her husband. "Wait," he said, "until I get in there ... then do it all you want." He took a deep breath, "I knew you were a natural."
Rhonda's thoughts were jumbled. She knew instinctively that this wasn't right. Yet, at the same time, it was exciting. She felt subjugated, completely at the mercy of her husband. She blushed deeply when the pressures became so intense that she farted loudly. The sound was rewarded by a laugh and a hard bite on her right buttock. His two fingers made circular motions in her rectum; it was being stretched ... stretched ... stretched. Now she began to have a compelling urge to have his fingers in there deeper. She pushed back against them, groaning slightly once as she felt his fingernail on the fold of membrane, and tossed hex-head abandonedly from side to side in rhythm with his finger fucking motions.
Then suddenly he removed his fingers. She could feel the rubbery, elastic like ring of her asshole clinging to them-reluctant to let them go. And then, out they came with a wet hissing noise.
She turned her head disappointedly to find out why he had stopped. He was stroking his penis, and she could see the thick white foreskin moving back and forth over the instrument's head. Then he was between her legs. His hands reached beneath her and cupped her thighs-holding them tightly. She felt him move forward until his penis was pressing against the puckered brown rim. She suddenly realized his prick was considerably larger than two fingers ... she wouldn't be able to take it. He should know that! Still, the pressure continued, the prick moving gently, always gently, gradually insinuating its way through the tiny tight opening stretching it wider and wider until finally the head of it was completely in. She was pleasantly surprised, even proud of herself....
Rhonda pressed down with her abdominal muscles and was relieved to discover that part of the pressure had been removed. It was fine ... just fine.
She felt him begin to move in deeper, and all of a sudden-at about the two inch mark-he began to hurt her terribly. She tried to push forward into the pillow but his hand held her thighs captive.
"That hurts," she winced, meaning it this time. "It hurts horribly!" He paid no attention to her ... just continued his inexorable pressure inward.
Now there was genuine pain in the pit of her stomach. Not full vaginal pain, but pain from protesting bowels as the fleshy reaming rod moved deeper and deeper against the normal flow of traffic in the rectum. "It's too big," she whimpered. "Please, stop! Oh, God, darling, please stop!"
Escape was impossible. She was impaled there like a captured butterfly. He was using her body like a wheelbarrow. "Raise up," he ordered.
It was so painful that she would gladly obey any order, just to relieve the pain. She raised her buttocks a bit, and the prick slid smoothly and deeper into her rectum. It moved quickly until suddenly she felt his pubic hair slap hard against her ass.
"Gaaaggh," she groaned. The pain was even more intense because now she was deeply degraded and feeling abused. The excitement had gone-ripped away by the overpowering presence of that hot, pulsating log lodged in her ass.
He began moving in and out like a well-oiled piston. Her asshole made gasping, sucking noises with each movement. "Oh ... hhh," she gasped with each new inward thrust.
He stopped for a moment and Rhonda realized he was panting in delight. He asked, "Do you remember what you did with your muscles a few moments ago? I want you to do it again...."
Rhonda contracted for a moment, then inhaled deeply and at the same time tightened and lifted her stomach muscles.
"Ahhh ... God!" he shouted, his voice gurgling with glee. "Again. Ahhhhh ... Oh, God! Again ... and again! Keep doing it, baby."
Each time, she was rewarded with a joyous shout and a deeper thrust into her clenching anal passage. He sawed in and out of her asshole plunging deep into those softer, darker areas of her being which she had never known existed.
She began to feel a change in her rectum, and in her attitude. She wanted to please her husband. The mere helplessness of her position made it acceptable. She was beginning to experience some masochistic enjoyment from those thrusts, and she knew she could enjoy them even more by rearing back to meet the thrusts. She began doing so and was pleased by his low pitched moan of responding pleasure.
She moved her firm white buttocks in tiny little circles-weaving it in the air. His yelps of contagious enjoyment encouraged her. Gradually, she began feeling a warm glow illuminating her inner bowels. It wasn't possible ... Could a woman reach a climax this way? Nerve ends were beginning to telegraph messages and muscles were vibrating.
She discovered her rectal passage could be tightened two or three times at the apogee of each outward thrust-bringing greater pleasure to her and deeper groans of happiness from him. She flexed her deepest anal muscles against the head of his cock. "Gosh!" was all he said. She suddenly realized, as she tossed her head wantonly from side to side that she was enjoying the cruel debasement. She also realized with a reedy rapid catch of breath, that she could cum like this if she worked at it and concentrated on it.
Now, breathing heavily, her husband pulled the hot throbbing cock all the way out to the glans, then shoved it desperately in as a prelude to the final act and curtain.
"Ahhhhh," she moaned with encouragement and no further pain.
Now, with long hard unending thrusts, he began to batter her quivering buttocks. He gasped like a man who had run a long race. She was being skewered and split right down the middle. And she didn't care! She didn't care! She became aware of a velvet feeling throughout the pit of her stomach. Once again she thought, could it be? Could it really be?
"Eeeee ... aaahhh...." He was making noises like a rusty door creaking open.
"Ahhhh ... ahhhh," she returned, attempting to say, "deeper, deeper, harder, harder," but unable to form words. She was astonished, hopeful and pleased. Her head was tossing back and forth uncontrollably now as the two bodies moved like suddenly insane puppets released from their master's strings.
He murmured incoherently as his hands finally let go of her thighs, and she felt his fingernails cruelly bite into the folds of skin in front of her hips.
Then she felt the one last mighty thrust which drove the swollen rod up to the furthest point it had been; she made her muscles grab hold of it and milk it. The prick spurted, then began twitching as he came deep, deep in the rectum, giving her a love enema. He cried out, and his strangled voice was the thing that triggered her own explosion ... it was a different feeling than before ... much different, deeper, a different set of muscles, nerves and bones crying out their happy defiance of morality and normality. "Ahhh ... aieee!" she screamed, and above her own shouts, she could hear his, "Beautiful ... wonderful ... aaaaahhh."
Some time later as she lay there feeling the velvet and warm satin of her glands and nerves, she seemed to hear a far-off voice saying, "You have been dreaming ... dreaming. You will awaken tomorrow; it will have been a dream about your husband. Tomorrow night you will awaken at the same time and your husband will be your husband. Tonight was only a dream. Repeat please."
Her voice from far away answered, "It was a dream. Tomorrow night I will awaken...."
And once, just before sleep came, she thought she heard the satanic snicker of a truly triumphant male voice and a pair of hot lips reverently kissed her ass.
But, of course, it was all part of the dream ... it had been a dream ... and deep in her mind and heart she felt disappointment that it had only been a dream....
CHAPTER SIX
Rick slowly came awake, opening his eves and listening to the birds outside the window. He took a deep breath and turned to look at the travel clock. He remembered a dream about his host's wife ... he blinked ... Yes, of course it was a dream. He turned on his side and stared at the sleeping girl beside him. In the dream it was Rhonda and then it was Noreen and ... No matter! It was one helluva wet dream! Boy, he had had women go wild under him before but nothing like Noreen in the dream.
The dream had come tenuously. He remembered waking up next to Rhonda ... only it wasn't Rhonda, it was Noreen. Oh, to hell with it ... it doesn't matter, he thought. It was the dream that mattered. He had awakened to find himself stripped and lying next to his nude wife. It was the way that he had been awakened that was interesting. His wife had been fondly stroking his cock, crooning over it, admiring its size and beauty.
She had kissed him, and her mouth was all honey and heat and tongue. And she had placed his head against her breast and fed him like a hungry child. And then she had stroked his cock again and told him she wanted it deep inside her.
His wife had said, "With a cock like yours, I want a real straight fuck, at least the first time. Tomorrow night, you're going to eat it. Tonight you will just fuck it till my head falls off!" He asked her, "A straight fuck?"
"Honey," she explained, "a straight fuck is you on top of me with my legs wrapped around you-nothing kinky ... just a plain old-fashioned fucking. Bang ... bang ... oh, heavenly bang!"
She bent her legs at the knees, placing her feet right up next to her buttocks. Then she spread herself for him. "Come on in ... the water's fine!" she crooned, smiling wickedly. Her cunt was smiling too, its dark hair-lined vaginal lips already moist with lust. And the clitoris standing like a campanile at the top of the quad.
He entered her with a rush. "Gaaaagggghhh," she moaned happily as the cock rode up into her. His balls slammed in against her asshole, bringing a low groan of pain and delight from his wife. Her legs uncoiled and then her calves were against his buttocks, her heels, and toenails were used as spurs. She began grinding her ass into the mattress, making sharp little circular motions that were viciously exciting. He really didn't have much moving to do; she did most of it, arching her back and using her legs on his buttocks as though she were hanging from ropes. She was the master of the moment. His hot penile shaft drove into the target, and with each new thrust, her open pussy became juicier-the bulls-eye hotter. His wife was lying there-taking it all ... breathing heavily through nostrils that expanded and contracted like the diaphragm on scuba diving gear.
"Slowly," she commanded, and it was a command ... not to be disobeyed.
Suddenly there was a shimmering of consciousness, and a strange heat was on him. Always he had tried to be gentle if possible. He didn't like the queenly attitude of his wife. Now, for some sadistic reason he only vaguely understood, he wanted her to know that there was only one boss at a time like this-the male! Actually, he wanted to hear her submit completely and plead for mercy. He withdrew his cock until only the head was still buried in the vaginal folds. His wife looked up angrily and said, "Keep going you fool ... I said 'slowly' not stop."
He grinned down at her and then shoved forward as viciously as he could. "Aaaa ... gaaahh!" she screamed, and he knew he was hurting her-knew he was scraping and rattling like a runaway train along each dark bend and curve of her vaginal tunnel. He felt his cock abruptly slap up against the far wall of her uterus. He immediately withdrew it once more and slammed all its seven inch length into the covering hole. "Take it easy, you're hurting me, Goddammit!" the woman moaned.
Now Rick felt as though he were a human pile-driver. He began driving in, without pity, hearing her moan and groan beneath him. Once, their pel-vises crashed together so hard that he was sure he had broken something. His prick had grown to astronomical size; it was if it had a mind of its own-a predatory destroyer rampaging through the warm jungles of her defenseless cunt.
Rick glanced at the female. Her mouth was open and her breath was hissing through bared teeth. She was rotating her shoulders wildly. She was close to cumming. Well, fuck it!
With sadistic pleasure, Rick withdrew his cock completely. Her haunches rose up like a blind animal, weaving in the air, seeking it. "What's ... wrong?" she panted. "Don't stop now ... you can't stop now."
"Why not?" he growled, wanting only to hear her beg.
She guessed his purpose. "You god-damned impudent son of a bitch ... fuck me!" she hissed, and then grabbed his testicles and yanked so hard it felt as though they were being ripped out by their roots. Her fingernails cruelly and purposely bit into the scrotum.
Rick reacted much the same as a bull ... he charged! "Why you ... you!" He savagely slapped her face. Her head flew back against the pillow, her eyes watered from the blow. The pain in his balls was agonizing. He wanted only to punish the bitch now. He wanted to hurt her more than he had wanted to hurt anyone before. He put his steel-hard cock against her tender vaginal mouth and shoved; as he did so, he pushed her knees back until her face peered between them like a frightened animal. It gave him another two inches of depth, and she screamed in genuine pain as he reached the virginal territory.
In and out he drove with demented fury, a fury that did not die even when she screamed, "I'm cumming. Fuck harder ... I'm cumming, you bastard." Her loins were trying to work up and down on his shaft, but he kept her pinned there.
She groaned and fell back, no longer fighting him as her orgasm began. He could feel her pussy twitching and sucking away at him, could feel the sudden new heat of her steaming snatch as her cum flooded her hidden passageways. He kept pounding mindlessly at her and into her until she screamed a minute later, "I'm cumming again ... aaiieee." This was followed within seconds by another cry of release, then another, then still another, until her orgasms began running together in one continuous ecstasy glowing and dancing wildly across her clamping pussy walls. Finally, her eyes rolled into her head and she passed out completely. Rick, propped up by his knees and elbows, glanced down at her. He pinched her nipple; she remained unconscious. Then, grinning sadistically, he made one-two-three savage thrusts forward before his cock began spurting its hot scalding cum directly against the hot, still pulsating walls of her subservient cunt. God how she had cum! It was the cum of a conqueror he now felt ... she was a slave of lust ... the cum of hatred and mastery ... but not of love. He fell alongside her unconscious body and gave way to victorious sleep.
Some time later in the dream, he vaguely recalled her voice saying, "That was the best fuck I've had in years ... But you were a very bad boy ... you loveable bastard! Repeat after me, at two o'clock tomorrow night, you will come to me again. Now, you will return to your room and when you awake in the morning, it will all seem like a dream. It will have been a dream ... you made love to your wife...."
Then, just before sleep took over, he thought he heard, "Tomorrow night, my dear, you are going down between my legs and eat it!"
What a screwy dream ... real wild! As if his wife would ever talk like that. Quietly, so that he wouldn't disturb Rhonda, he got out of bed and went to the shower. As he stepped under the stream of water, he felt almost as if he had been fucking all night and this made him laugh. Wishful thinking, he thought aloud. I guess it's because I hope Rhonda will begin to respond and react sexually ... relax and enjoy the love-making.
It wasn't until he was drying himself that he noticed the tiny bruise of a pin-prick on his calf and wondered how he had gotten that....
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rhonda was fascinated by Lord Folsome and his manish wife. They had arrived shortly after lunch. He was shorter than she was and seemed very old in appearance but young in manners and action. He had bowed low, and kissed her hand when they met, calling her charming and refreshing. His wife was young and had a frighteningly intense stare. She was tall and heavy to the point where she seemed almost square in shape. Her hair was grey and cut like a man's hair and she wore very masculine suits. When Lady Folsome spoke she was a baritone and her voice purred like a hungry tiger.
Rick had no doubt that she was a truck driver diesel type butch if he had ever seen one, and he wasn't about to let his naive wife stumble into a situation where she would have to defend herself. As for Lord Folsome that was something else again. Rick had felt that he was being measured by the old man, like an old stallion looking at a competing young stud. The Monroes were obviously old friends and Rick even noticed a glance between Noreen and the Lord. He dismissed it, musing that the old man probably hadn't had an erection since World War II. He couldn't imagine the old goat and Noreen together but he sure could imagine himself with her. He felt that both Noreen and Rhonda appeared healthier and more relaxed today. He remembered his dream. Rick listened politely for a few minutes while the older people exchanged gossip and then, catching Rhonda's eye, he excused them, saying they had promised each other to go sailing that afternoon. Lord Folsome made them promise to meet for cocktails and they accepted the invitation. A short time later they were happily swimming across the lake.
Back at the castle, Lord Folsome was being briefed on the young newly weds by Monroe. "Incredible, absolutely incredible!" Monroe was saying, "She has the most talented rectal reactions I've ever encountered. The very first time she's ever indulged, and already she reacts like a pro!" He continued, "However, the silly little bitch thinks sexual, standard intercourse is painful to her. She's been brainwashed probably by her own mother."
Lord Folsome replied, "Well, it's our christian duty to do all we can to bring joy to her life." He bit his lower lip and grinned broadly.
Monroe's stare was enigmatic. "She has a great deal of joy already as long as she can learn to relax."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Brace yourself. I know this will come as a shock but the boy could loan you a couple of inches and he'd never miss it."
"No, really?" Lord Folsome asked.
"The truth. You might ask Noreen ... he went in so far that she was sure he'd ruined her and ripped her!"
"That's incredible!"
"You'll have your chance to see him in action with Noreen tonight ... after the photographs are taken."
Lord Folsome was still shaking his head in wonderment a few minutes later as he stood by the window and gazed out at the boat on the lake. He could feel his mouth water as he thought of the pleasure to come to him tonight and the sheer delights that would come tomorrow when the girl would be forced to do anything he demanded.
Aboard the boat, Rhonda watched Rick sailing against the wind. How sure he seemed of himself, she thought. How very poised for a young man and how very handsome. She was so proud of him. She shifted her buttocks against the cushion to arrive at a more comfortable position. That dream last night! That had been quite a dream-so real! And this morning she had even awakened with her rectum feeling very sore. She supposed the soreness had something to do with the breaking of her hymen. Her vagina still ached ... odd about that part of the dream too. She felt a vague stirring of excitement as she remembered Rick's tongue and lips down there in her dream. She resolutely told herself that it was Rick in the dream even though he had had Monroe's features. That together with Rick making love to her in the behind! Men didn't do that to women! Or did they? She wished life was simple enough for men and women to make love any old way they wanted and enjoy it. Perhaps some did but she knew that it was wishful thinking on her part. She wasn't normal and she knew it now. It was all well and good to have a dream where you reached a climax two different ways, but reality was a different thing ... and reality had already proven that her mother was right: Rhonda was incapable of enjoying sexual intercourse because of the pain.
"Penny," Rick said.
"What?"
"A penny for your thoughts."
Rhonda smiled impulsively and wrapped her arms around his outstretched legs. "I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you as my husband." It was the truth and she knew it.
Rick kissed her on the top of the head and then pointed to a small beach at the foot of one of the hills; it was hidden from the castle and most of the rest of the lakefront. "What do you say we go picnicking and swimming here tomorrow? We could even ... ah ... dispense with bathing suits. How about that?" He leered at her.
She pretended as though he were making a joke even though she knew that he was probably serious. "Rick, I'm surprised at you."
Rick swung the tiller and the sails fluffed as the boat coasted into the dock. Rick said that he could manage and that Rhonda should run ahead and get into a hot shower as the afternoon had grown chilled.
She kissed him and headed towards the castle. Rick watched her buttocks swing inside the tight little shorts and made a loud wolf whistle. She looked back grinning and pleased-and then laughed out loud as the two dogs came running as if they had been called and jumped on Rick.
Ten minutes later Rick finished his securing of the boat and got to their suite. He called her name when he got inside the door but there was no answer. He heard the water running in the shower. The urgency hit him almost immediately, and his cock started growing painfully. He stripped down throwing his clothes into an untidy heap on the floor and went into the shower room. Rhonda was humming a song. Rick looked down at his erection, now standing out in front of him as though an inflexible pole had been driven into his midriff.
Grinning wickedly and feeling extremely aroused, he stepped into the steamy shower. Rhonda had her back toward him. She had lathered herself all over and the white soap bubbles clung lovingly to the shining pink cheeks of her firm round buttocks. Very kissable he thought.
Slowly, Rick put his arms around her and cupped both breasts.
She screamed and spun around, eyes wide in fright. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. "My God, how you frightened me. My heart feels like it is going to pound right out of my body."
"Yeh, I can feel it," Rick grinned and gently squeezed her left breast.
Only then did Rhonda look shocked as she suddenly realized where he was. "Rick, you shouldn't be ... I mean...." she was flustered. He merely laughed and turned the other shower nozzles. Rhonda could feel one of them spraying against her buttocks and it stung sensually.
She watched as Rick took the soap and began to lather himself all over. The soapy water ran in a trail from his shoulders and chest down to the pubic hair from which the cannon-like penis projected. He seemed terribly aroused, she could tell this from the way he acted ... in addition to his erection. And, to be absolutely honest with herself, she was feeling a bit of wicked excitement herself.
"Turn around," he ordered, "and I'll wash your back for you."
Dimpling, Rhonda did as instructed. She felt the roughness of the wash cloth rubbing against her upper shoulders. Then he was moving down to a spot directly in back of her breasts. She glanced down and saw that both of her nipples were erect and that both of her aureolas were covered with foamy goose bumps. Now he was rubbing her buttocks-first roughly with the rag and then gently with his hands covered with slippery warm soap and water. She could feel the soap suds slithering down the crevice beneath her spine and abruptly she remembered the dream of being made love to that way. Rick's hands were all over her now. Breasts, buttocks, abdomen....
She felt him move back from her for a second and, feeling disappointment, she turned and saw him lathering up his penis and pubic hair. Then he was back again, his hot cudgel pressing against the smooth, white cheeks of her buttocks, his chest hair against her back. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, and lifted her hair kissing the nape of her neck. A shiver of delight went through her entire body. Her heart which had been pounding earlier in fright was now running away in excitement. He pressed his prick forward into soapy buttocks. Rhonda stood there feeling the exquisite sensations of his penis against the slippery cheeks of her ass. Then he slid it beneath her and it rubbed against the labia of her cunt. Immediately, she tensed. It hurt. Rick however was making no effort to penetrate. She looked down at her front and could see the tip of his penis protruding out from the soft curls of pubic hair between her legs. To her, it looked as if it were her own. Without volition and not fully realizing what she was doing, she ran her hands down across her soapy belly, through her damp nest, and clasped the head of the cock in both hands. She squeezed. It was a electrifying thing for her; she had never touched him before-not this way and not in this manner. She could feel the current flowing between her hands and his prick. It was beautiful ... it was exciting ... it was the most sensual thing she had ever felt in her life-except for the silly dream, of course.
Rick felt her hands there and he groaned. God, he thought, I'm so excited I'm about to cum right now. I feel like a hopped-up high school kid getting his first piece of ass and cumming before he even gets it in. He began making little swaying movements to and fro, and his desire hardened prick slid along the entire length of her vaginal crevice-from clitoris to anus. She moaned. He wasn't sure whether it was one of pain or delight. A moment later, when she moaned again, he knew she liked it.
He had both of his hands on her hips now, moving them and her away from him, then back to him. There was friction-a hot, soapy, glorious friction-on his cock. Friction from her vaginal lips and hair, friction from the cheeks of her ass. Abruptly, he became aware that Rhonda was doing an absolutely wild and wonderful thing with the muscles of her buttocks. She was flexing them and with each movement he made they tightened along both sides of his cock. He got to moving faster and faster. He wanted to put it in her; he wanted to stick it in her cunt, her asshole ... anywhere! for he could feel the waiting load of sperm in his balls beginning to boil impatiently.
Rhonda, gasping for breath, knew she wanted him inside her bowels. She could remember the dream. She wanted him deep in her rectum! She wanted him deep inside her womb! She wanted him inside her belly, no matter how it hurt. She could feel all of her nerves, all her muscles, all of everything crying for release. The only release would come from him being somewhere inside of her. She turned suddenly and the hardened penis slipped from between her legs. Rick groaned. Her open mouth reached up hungrily for his lips, and she savagely kissed him in an attempt to communicate her urgency, her acquiescence, her desire. Then, she moved her hand down to his straining cock. It took all the will power she possessed to make her hand close around it. Rick groaned deep in his throat. She moved her hand experimentally on the long hard hot shaft itself. It feels like the scruff of a puppy's neck, she thought, then excited beyond belief, she began pumping on it. Rick had begun french-kissing her, and his hands had slipped down to her buttocks. He kneaded them, and she felt the most delicious of lewd sensations.
Rhonda was no longer attempting to stroke him; she was frantically pulling at the virile instrument-trying to pull it into her vagina-when Rick suddenly let out a low moan of delight and stopped breathing. The cock swelled in her hand, and then she felt it throbbing. She watched it, fascinated, as the white hot cum spurted out all over her belly and pubic hair; it ran in great white rivers to join the soapy trails streaming down her glistening thighs. Rick continued to cum, his penis continued to throb for almost a full minute. He kept his eyes closed in rapture during the entire thing. Finally, he sighed deeply as if just beginning to breath again.
"Ummmmm, that was the greatest!" he said. Rhonda blinked uncertainly, trying to assess her emotions. She was pleased that she had made him feel good; perhaps "pleased" wasn't quite strong enough. She was happy that she had been able to. It was her own feelings that were troubling her now. She still felt the intolerable heat of her own desires-those strange alien desires which she couldn't analyze. Rhonda knew that there had been a shameful, uninhibited moment there when she had actually wanted to bend over in front of him and spread her buttocks apart so he could insert his penis in her rectum. Another moment she had felt the overwhelming need of having it-no matter how agonizing-put into her vagina. And there had been the feeling of that wonderfully strong piece of hard flesh beneath her hands ... she had, when the heat had been the greatest, wanted to kiss it:-to pay tribute to it. She knew why some writers called it a "god head" now!
She looked down at Rick's maleness. It was flaccid, barely three or four inches long, oozing white liquid and covered with soap suds. Then she threw her head back and began laughing. It was a laugh of relief, of happiness shared, or delight with the moment in time and space.
"What's wrong?" Rick asked, puzzled and fearing ridicule.
Impulsively, she threw her arms around his waist and put her head against his chest. She was getting her hair all wet but she didn't care. "I love you," she said, squeezing him. She giggled again. "You felt just like a dying horse ... twitching away there."
A second later he was laughing with her and Rhonda knew that everything was going to be all right between them and that sex would not be painful once her vagina had stretched a little and become accustomed to his size. Within her body the heat began to build again ... and she was impatient to have that accommodation made as soon as possible.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dinner and the dumb conversation seemed interminable to Noreen. She had been hotly impatient for the real activities to begin after everyone had gone to bed. The anticipation had made her irritable as she waited for the signal from behind the window. She kept looking up at the one way mirror waiting for the two slow men to get their photograph equipment ready. Rick had started to awaken twenty minutes before, and she had been forced to tell him, "Sleep ... go back to sleep ... until I tell you to awaken ... sleep...."
Finally, she heard Monroe's disembodied voice say, "Alright, Noreen. Now you can have your little fun and games. Don't get so carried away that you forget to keep his head facing us."
There was a loud evil chuckle from Lord Folsome, who said, "And don't forget to say cheese."
Noreen threw a look of disdain at the mirror, then began crooning, "Rick ... wake up, Darling ... you are with your wife...."
She watched him as he began stirring. My God, she thought, I've never been so on fire before. The boy was so young, so viril, so very masterful. And that cock of his-simply bull-like, with the balls to go along with it. Really, it belongs in the Louvre museum along side the other great sculptures of the world.
Noreen's impatience had been building all day and she had been in a state of complete arousal since early morning. Noreen's blood continued to boil all through tea, cocktails, and dinner. It was all she could do to keep from reaching under the table and grabbing Rick's genitals. He would have been surprised she thought.
But now her long wait had come to an end with the signal that the photographers were ready. She knew her vagina was seeping and was lubricated to the point where she could take him easily. First, however, there were the pictures. She nodded up toward the mirror, then turned to the sleeping boy, "Rick ... wake up ... you are with your wife."
Rick's legs twitched twice, then he yawned and opened his eyes. He blinked. "Hello, Darling," Noreen said, and threw back the covers so that both of their nude bodies could be photographed.
"Hello ... Rhonda?"
"Rick, kiss me."
The boy moved next to the women's mature body; she strained her breasts toward him. They lay side by side facing each other as he took her in his arms and kissed her. She threw one leg over his thigh and rubbed her pubic nest against his still sleeping dick. It too, came awake-terrifyingly so. She knew the photos would be splendid, and now for the really candid shots.
She pulled her mouth away from his and forced him to turn over on his back. She began kissing him as she slowly drew a line with her tongue down across his chest, past the belly button, until she reached the pubic forest where one huge tree grew to enormous height. She clamped her lips over it and was rewarded with a low moan of pleasure. She kept her mouth there until she was sure the photo had been taken. Then she gave him a little nibble or two and used her tongue to tease the head-just as a reward. He moaned with each new thing she did.
Noreen finally looked up at him. "Did that feel good, Dear?"
He moaned his assent. "Don't be selfish then. Do it to me, too." She moved herself around until her head was pointing toward the mirror, then spread her legs in an open invitation to his mouth to feast upon. Rick looked uncertain-not willing to participate-more as though he was unsure of what to do. Noreen said, "Don't be bashful. I'll tell you how to do it." He moved directly to her open vagina. He kissed it awkwardly. She half sat up and used her fingers to pull the bold vaginal lips apart. "This," she said, tapping the little knob that stuck out, "is the clitoris. It is the most sensitive part of a woman's body. A kiss there is sensual beyond description. A sucking or slight nibble there is totally devastating in its beauty. A chewing motion on the labia is enough to make any woman insane with joy. Your tongue fluttering like a frightened bird in the vagina itself will put me in absolute delirium."
She lay back allowing the sensations to wash over her like high tide. He was understandably awkward at first but then his dexterity grew as his tongue and lips accustomed themselves to their strange duties. She could feel herself building to a climax as he licked away at her cunt. Then, abruptly, she remembered the photos. "Stop," she ordered. Like a robot he did as he was asked. She twisted around until her head was on the pillows. "Rick, let's do it together. Turn around." She guided his ass with her hands until his buttocks were above her head, his face poised directly above her wide-spread pussy. She slowly opened her legs and at the same time, used her hands to pull his hips and giant cock down to her mouth. She lowered it to her like an oil well drill being put into the test hole. She kissed it reverently, then teased its knob with her teeth. Rick meanwhile, eagerly went back to work using his tongue against her cunt. Despite all of her good intentions of doing everything right for the photos, the taste of his cock in her mouth drove Noreen right out of her mind. She began sucking voraciously, trying desperately to swallow it's entire length....She wasn't sure what Rick was suddenly doing to her cunt that was different but of the hundreds of men who had swirled their tongues between her thighs, she had never felt quite the same sensations before. He licked, then brutally bit the lips; the pain was wonderful. He used his chin to agitate the clitoris; the stubble of the beard on his chin was the same as sandpaper against the tiny, sensitive bud. She was panting now, she didn't care what happened. She rubbered her lips around his cock and used both hands to salaciously milk his giant balls dangling like gypsy earrings on both sides of her face.
Rick drove his tongue into the insatiable vagina just as viciously as he had used his prick as a reaming instrument the night before. Noreen tried to lift her buttocks to meet him, but he refused to let her move. She was losing control of the situation again; he was too masterful to be kept on a leash ... he had broken away again, she knew it the moment it happened. "Oh, God," she moaned as he bit her buttocks with enough strength to draw blood. Down his cock slammed into her throat. She could no longer breath. She was choking. He was seemingly trying to dislodge her tonsils. Using her fingernails as sharp claws she raked the backs of his thighs in an effort to get breathing space but it was futile. The pain merely drove his hardened rod of flesh down deeper into her aching throat. Noreen knew she was helpless ... helpless because of her own sensations down there. He was using her mouth as a cunt! And suddenly she was there, cumming in torrents in his mouth-cumming as though something had been unleashed deep inside her pussy ... treasures pouring out of an unlocked box. He drove his cock down past her tonsils, and the huge head ballooned as he reached his climax. So large was the exploding head, so big was the mouthful, that Noreen couldn't even swallow. She made gagging noises as the hot cream poured down her open gullet and splayed out of both sides of her mouth. It streamed in a white river across her face and some of it even ran up her nostrils and on both sides of her nose where it flowed out hotly into her eyes and ears.
And during it all-even when her body was whipping around in the uncontrolled frenzy of her orgasm-she kept thinking, "Oh, my God!
What's happening to me? It never felt this good before."
Finally it passed. Rick lay alongside her now: he stared up at the ceiling, unmoving and un-responding. Noreen reached over to the bedside table and pulled a tissue out of a box. She began wiping her face. She was a mess. Christ, he had shot all over everything, pillow, hair, bedspread and there was even semen dripping from the headboard. The taste of his hot cum in her mouth was warm wine and intoxicating. Her body was at peace for the moment, but she knew the peace would not last long for even now she wanted that cock lodged deep inside her neglected womb. Well, she thought, now is the time to go on with my act. She smiled, up toward the mirror where the camera was watching. The eagerness was beginning in her loins; it was the first zephyrs of an approaching gale.
"Rick ... when I count to ten and snap my fingers ... you will awaken completely. You will not remember these instructions after you awaken. You will be completely awake and no longer under hypnosis. You will be free to do anything you wish, leave or stay. One ... two ... three...." Noreen finally reached "ten" and snapped her fingers. As she did so she lay back on the bed sobbing and shuddering. Rick blinked. He looked at her. Suddenly he realized where he was, and sat bolt upright in bed.
"I ... I,...." he was speechless.
"Oh, how could you, Rick? How could you be so cruel? And I was growing so fond of you ... I thought you were a gentleman."
"Noreen ... I...." Quickly, he pulled the sheet up over his loins and made an effort to cover her.
"Oh, don't talk to me, you beast."
Rick's face was wrinkled in bewilderment and something akin to fear. He put out a hand to her naked shoulder. "Noreen, please! What happened? How did I get here?"
"Don't act so innocent. It's too late for that."
"I swear to you I don't know what's going on."
She sobbed and the motion caused the sheet to fall from her breast. Rick couldn't take his eyes from the soft resilient mound of golden flesh; the nipple about the size of honey-colored fifty-cent pieces standing erect. He wanted to kiss them, to tease them with his tongue ... bite them until she screamed.
There was an alien taste in his mouth-musty, exciting! He swallowed and decided he liked the taste. Noreen suddenly turned toward him and the sheet slipped down even further to reveal the outline of her rib cage creating diagonal lines pointing to her pouting naval. Noreen stared at him, and he noticed that her eyes-although slightly damp-were not as wet as he would have thought considering the amount of weeping she was doing. She continued to inspect his face, then she said, "You mean you really don't remember ... anything?"
"I swear. I haven't the slightest idea."
Noreen blinked and sniffed. She wiped her eyes with her hands, then propped herself up on one elbow. The motion brought the left breast up to within eight inches of his mouth and caused the sheet to drop to the point where the first black line of her soft curly pubic hair could be seen. One buttock was uncovered and the golden mound of flesh testified that she sunbathed without a swim suit. There was a crease of flesh where her thigh and ass joined; the crease glistened in the light. "You came in here and turned on the light. I thought at first that you were drunk or sleepwalking. You looked very strange. Then you ... you...." She fell back and covered her face with her hands. "I can't tell you; it's too horrible."
"Noreen, please!" It was a strangled plea for information.
Noreen said "You made me do a perverted thing. You made us have oral intercourse!" Rick reacted as though he had been kicked. He couldn't believe her, she was lying, she had to be lying ... not matter how drunk he was that was something he'd never force on a woman ... never! And he sure as hell wouldn't go down on a broad. Well ... maybe Rhonda....
"You're lying," he said quietly, watching her reaction.
"Am I?" she spat out. Noreen picked up the kleenex limp with seminal juices. "What do you call this? The stuff that didn't go down my throat went all over my face and hair." She threw the kleenex at him. "That's yours," she said. Almost as if afraid to touch it Rick reached toward the paper. It was cold and wet with a sticky substance. He swallowed; as he did so, he realized what the alien taste in his mouth was-her taste! The taste of her pussy! It was true! The whole thing was true!
"Noreen, I,...." he started, but she interrupted him. She had begun weeping again. "I know you don't believe me, but feel this...." She took his hand and placed it against her feverish cunt. Rick felt the dampness, and the heat. Noreen kept his hand pressed there. "That's your saliva," she said and then added, " ... and my love. I couldn't help myself. You ... you made me orgasm just as you reached your climax." Then she put her face against his chest. "Oh, Rick. I'm so ashamed...."
Awkwardly, Rick patted her bare shoulder. He was all too aware of Noreen's breasts pushing up against his midriff; her nipples were burning two holes into his belly. Too, when he felt her pussy, it was as though he had made contact with a live wire. He looked down at her body lying alongside his. One leg was slightly raised. He could see the little blue veins under her skin. He could feel her hot breath against his chest, her lips close to his right nipple. Her cunt against his leg! Without wanting to, his prick was stirring to life again. Now that the first shock of waking next to Noreen had begun to evaporate he suddenly realized that they were lying in bed together ... nude. He also realized that he badly wanted to fuck her.
At the rate his prick was growing he only had seconds before she realized her danger. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her over on her back. She stared up at him, her lips moistened, her upper lips reddened from wiping off the cum. "I'm sorry, Noreen."
She nodded. "What's done is done, I suppose. You degraded me. What makes it so bad though...." She reached up and put both hands along his face and pulled him down close to her, " ... What makes it so bad is that I couldn't help myself. I enjoyed it. I wanted you. Me-a married woman-and you-a married man! Can you ever forgive me." She blinked as if to weep again.
Rick felt his heart go out to the poor woman. He had forced himself on her. He had come in here drunk or sleepwalking-and forced her to suck his cock. And here she was now apologizing to him! She gently sighed and he kissed her lips.
"Noreen, I don't know what happened and that's a pity that I don't remember. I wanted you last night ... surely you must have felt it in the study together. I even dreamed of you last night. I dreamed I made love to you. Forgive me, please?"
"I'm so ashamed," she repeated. "I wanted you, too, but you're just a boy...."
The comment about his being "just a boy" stung Rick just as she knew it probably would. His cock was fully alive now and ready for any new adventure. The heat ignited in his prick and flowed upward-up the spinal cord to his brain, up the muscular paths to his heart which received the message and began pumping quantities of blood to serve the rising instrument. He kissed her again, and this time he pushed his tongue through her parted teeth. She refused to open her mouth to him for a moment, then, groaning, she let it swim in. Rick moved his lips to her neck and worked his way to her breasts. She attempted to force his head back, but then collapsed weakly and let him do his will.
Rick could feel the power growing in him.
Never in his life had he ever thought he had a chance to fuck a mature woman like this. But she wanted him. She was his to do as he wanted. He could tell that by the way she acted. She was panting when his hand moved boldly across her smooth well-tanned stomach and sought out her pulsating pussy. He sawed his finger for only a second; the passage was already slippery with lubricants-his earlier saliva and her cum. Noreen acted as though she were reluctant when he forced her thighs apart and got between them. "We mustn't, Rick," she sobbed believably. "We can't. This is madness."
"We are, though," he said through gritted teeth and then, gently parting the pubic hair, he pushed the head of his cock against the labia of the moist, open lips of her straining vagina. Noreen attempted to clamp her legs together but the movement was obviously half-hearted at best. "Be gentle," she pleaded, reaching down to grasp his hardened staff in her hand. "God, it had been even easier than he thought. He kissed her and said, "I will."
It was then he felt near delirium strike him down there. She was stroking his cock as she guided it directly to the opening of her cunt. Rick pressed in and his throbbing prick slid slowly and surely down into the delicious channel, where it glided like a gondola through the warm dark cuntal passage. He went all the way in without pausing once; the journey took the better part of a minute and Noreen gasped in adulation all the time. Finally, it was in as far as possible. He deliberately flexed his cock a couple of times.
It was then that Noreen went wild beneath him. It was as though she had reached countdown zero and the rockets had been ignited. She simply took off! She was no longer the weeping victim; she was exhorting him to do his damnedest. "Fuck me; fuck me to death," she screamed, her heels locking tightly around the backs of his flexing thighs.
He gave her free rein for the first couple of minutes and was rewarded with her sudden, "Aiiiieeee ... I'm cumming." When she had quit twitching, he began his movements. He was gentle in the beginning just as she had requested. But the soft hidden muscles of her vagina kept nibbling and sucking away at his as though she were mad. His tempo speeded up. She was screaming in ecstasy as he began to rotate it around inside of her making circles with his ass and then climbing high on her body to her clitoris. The contact was devastating. Her hands were all over him now ... first stroking his balls ... then inserting a finger in his anus-it hurt at first and he groaned in protest, and then it became so exciting that he reared back to get full benefit of it.
Rick was caught up in it now; the woman beat on his buttocks with her heels. She was all fire and water, fur and grit, in everything. Her fingers moved down his back muscles once as gently as butterfly wings and the next trip they gouged holes on the skin. That hurt. He wanted to punish her for that, so he slammed his cock in viciously and was rewarded by a thin scream of pain and indignation.
She brought blood to his buttocks and back for that. He pounded into her like an express train. He wanted to push his prick in so far that it would come out her mouth. He knew he was filling her as though he were the lost piece of a jigsaw puzzle. It was wonderful ... beautiful. She gasped out lewd exciting words at him at the apex of each stroke. Usually it was an obscenity and a command at the same time. "Fuck me ... harder ... fuck," she chanted gasping and wheezing as though she were about to expire.
Finally, her eyes grew wide in supplication. "I'm cumming," she moaned. She panted and writhed. His cock was a voracious animal now, insatiable, demanding. He began using his leg muscles to propel it in even deeper, bringing moans of her desire and passion from the woman below him. "I'm cumming," she screamed again and again, and her fingernails dug like plows into the furrows of his back. And Rick was cumming-cumming with her, cumming into all women of the world! She was the goddess of cunt, he the god of cock. She screamed and collapsed twitching beneath him and he continued to pound into her until he knew there was nothing left in his body. The witch inside her had sucked his soul out of that teeny opening at the head of his prick.
It was a long time before he pulled his flaccid cock from her. He made a lewd wet sucking sound as it popped out. Noreen's body was soaking with perspiration. She looked at him through heavy lidded eyes.
"That was beautiful," she said in obvious dismissal. "But, you'd better get back to your room." She pulled up the sheet as if hiding her body in shame from him ... or bringing down the curtain on the first act.
Rick saw his pajamas lying in a heap on the floor. Feeling foolish, he began to dress. When he looked toward the bed, Noreen was already asleep.
He slowly made his way from the room through the darkened hallways, suddenly feeling a great wave of guilt wash over him. He had betrayed his wife on their honeymoon. The guilt was compounded by the fact that he knew he would fuck Noreen again if he were given half a chance ... and he rather suspected and hoped that the chances would be many during the next two weeks.
CHAPTER NINE
Rhonda was troubled. Her thoughts and emotions were elusive-impossible to catch and examine. Something was wrong! She didn't know what it was but something definitely was wrong.
Earlier that morning she had awakened feeling more relaxed and happy than she could remember. She had been awake only seconds before the dream returned. Once again she had dreamed that Rick had made love to her-violent, satisfying and thoroughly enjoyable love! And she had reached orgasm after orgasm until all of her climaxes ran together in one sweet never-ending symphony of sensation. She swallowed noisily as she remembered the details of that dream. It had been Rick in the dream but he looked different:-more like Monroe and Lord Folsome. She remembered what she had done. After Rick had licked her down there and driven her to the point of madness, he had asked her to suck on his penis. She had done so-at first out of love, and then with a deep animal desire to devour. He had cum in her mouth, and so entranced had she been with him that he had actually been forced to push her mouth away after she had swallowed all of him and continued to nibble at his deflated penis. That had been the Rick who looked like Lord Folsome. Next, the Rick who looked like Monroe had made love to her the same way he had in the dream the night before ... slamming in and out of her rectum until she was a screaming helpless piece of wild flesh impaled on the end of a skewer. Then the Lord Folsome one had made love to her in the vagina! It was this method that had made her reach peak after peak of progressive orgasms. And through it all there had been a lightning storm-brillant flashes of light....
These dreams surely must be the subconscious telling me that I must give myself completely to Rick, she thought.
All morning long she worried over her dream like a dog with a bone. At breakfast, though other things had happened that caused additional alarm. Lord Folsome actually leered at her as if he knew that she had dreamed about him. And Rick and Noreen seemed to be silently speaking to each other across the table; she didn't like the hungry look on Noreen's face; nor did she care for Rick's guilty glances in the older woman's direction....It was as though the two of them were sharing some secret. She felt a pang of jealousy, quickly dismissed.
All told, there was something wrong. The music of the day was being played off key. Her suspicions were not relieved when Monroe, smelling of something like vinegar, arrived late for breakfast. He smiled fondly at her, as if he were especially proud of something she had done. She was forced to look away because she remembered that Rick had looked like this man when he fucked her ass in the dream. Lord Folsome had demanded impatiently of Monroe, "Well?"
Monroe smiled. "Perfect!"
"Even mine?" Lord Folsome asked hopefully.
Monroe lifted one eyebrow and smirked. "Every exposure is perfect."
Rhonda noticed that the Lord and Noreen both sat back, relaxed. Both had smug expressions on their faces. Later, when she and Rick had been walking on the grounds, Rhonda said, "Those people gave me the creeps this morning."
Rick who had been pondering Lord Folsome's and Monroe's behavior, confessed himself equally puzzled. Actually, he was glad to have Rhonda voice her suspicions. During breakfast he hadn't been sure that it wasn't his own guilty conscience.
The day passed leisurely. A wind had sprung up over the lake which made sailing a bit risky, so he and Rhonda had taken a long hike. She seemed withdrawn ... he hoped she didn't sense his unfaithfulness. God, anything was possible! Maybe she could smell Noreen's cuntal juices on him when he returned to bed....Although she seemed to be sleeping so soundly that she looked drugged.
Earlier when he had been making plans for the afternoon, he had wanted to steer Rhonda to one of the deserted beaches on the lake and make love to her. Now she seemed so introspective that he decided to wait until they returned to the castle. Immediately upon their return, they encountered Monroe. He smiled pleasantly and it appeared that earlier tensions had been replaced by a gay commderie. This put them both at their ease with him once again.
Monroe said to Rick, "Are you ready for our traditional twilight boar hunt?"
"Tonight?"
"A good night for it. The moon will be right."
Rick looked at Rhonda mutely asking permission. "Go ahead, darling, I'll be fine."
Rick nodded. "I'm ready anytime you are, Monroe."
Monroe clapped him on the back. "Splendid. We'll make a box lunch and take a bottle of wine ... and a wee bit of brandy. Dress warmly because it gets cold after dark. Meet you at the garage in twenty minutes."
"Right."
Rick was eager for the outing. The sun had set beyond the hills and the sky was turning a darker blue as Rick got out of the car. Monroe said, "We're heading towards the far end of the forest to drive the pigs toward you. And please, my friend, be sure you know what it is before you shoot at anything you hear in the bushes."
Rick grinned his understanding. A moment later he was left all alone. It was then that he realized that he had no idea whatsoever where he was or, if he got separated from the hunting party, how he would go about making his way back to the castle. He thought that Monroe has had a lot of experience with the twilight hunts and that he shouldn't be worried.
Monroe, indeed, knew what to do, and he was doing it as though the devil himself was pursuing him. He drove rapidly through the gathering night back toward the castle and his long-awaited subjugation of a full conscious Rhonda and her darling little asshole.
CHAPTER TEN
With Rick gone, Rhonda decided to have dinner by herself in their suite. The meal was brought up by a little Irish maid. She ate the solitary meal and then changed into a long powder blue nylon gown and blue laced peignoir. The feeling of the material against her skin was wickedly exciting and she wished Rick was there.
There was a knock at the door later as she had started writing cards. "Come in," she said, thinking it was the maid returning for the dishes.
"Good evening, my dear," Lord Folsome said, entering and closing the door. He stood there for a moment staring appreciatively at her gown, then carried a large manila envelope to the table in front of the fireplace. She felt the first notes of uneasiness. Lord Folsome had entered as if he owned the place. He had looked at her in an un-mistakenly superior manner.
Lord Folsome moved over right next to her writing table and fastened his eyes onto her gown which was opened enough to see the first proud swelling of her breasts. Blushing furiously, she nervously put her hand up there and fumbled.
"That really isn't necessary, my dear, you have charming breasts. There's no need to hide them."
"Lord Folsome, please!" Rhonda was shocked.
"I think you'd better leave. My husband isn't here."
"I have no intention of leaving until I get what I came for." Suddenly Rhonda was frightened, really frightened. He must be a madman. He was looking in open lust at her breasts and pelvic area. "I ... I ... you really must go, Lord Folsome." She backed away from him but couldn't escape his eyes on her body.
"You are quite beautiful, my dear," he said.
"Please leave."
His face suddenly became contorted and his voice tight with anger. "Don't be impertinent! I'll not go until I get what I came after!"
Rhonda walked to the door and opened it. "Get out," she said trying to remain composed.
"Close the door," he demanded.
"Get out or I shall scream."
"Do as you wish but it will be to no avail. We are alone in the castle. The servants are gone."
Feeling a combination of embarrassment, anger and fear, Rhonda screamed and then yelled. The echoes resounded throughout the deserted hallways. Her own voice was mocking her.
"Now that we have that silly bit of amateur theatrics out of our system, I want to show you something. Take a look at the little gift I've brought you. There on the table, in the envelope."
"I'm not leaving this door. You make a move toward me and I'll run."
"I have no doubt that you could out run me. It would be most foolish however. Take a look in the envelope. I give you my word that I will not move from this spot."
Anything to get rid of this maniac, Rhonda thought. She moved toward the table watching him closely. He merely smiled in amusement. He seemed to be holding his breathe and his eyes seemed huge as he watched her unfasten the clasp on the envelope.
She withdraw the contents. She could tell by the feel that they were photographs. She made one rapid glance down at the top one and then the room began to swirl around her. She heard his satanic laughter burst out and he sat down in the chair, laughing uproariously at her stunned and disbelieving expression.
Rhonda gazed down in horrified disblief. It was a photograph of herself but not as she saw herself each morning in the mirror. Rather, it was a photograph of a totally alien her-wantonly smiling as she sucked away on Lord Folsome's sausage like cock. Her lips were grotesquely pouting around the instrument, but it was her expression that was the most astonishing thing about the picture. It was obvious to anyone that she was blissfully and erotically enjoying what she was doing. Her hands were clearly shown; one was cradling his testicles as though she were weighing them, the other had two fingers wormed deep into his rectum.
Rhonda's legs failed her. She steadied herself on the back of a chair and then sank slowly onto it. She continued to stare at the picture. Finally she closed her eyes and moaned, "Oh, my God!"
Lord Folsome continued to cackle. He choked, then coughed and wheezed. "You might like to know, my dear, that no one had to tell you a thing.
I have never known a more apt pupil, one who picked it up so rapidly. You were born to bring pleasure to a man ... and you don't have the intelligence to realize it. Pure womanly instincts." He signed. "But really, you should look at the others,"
Almost wishing that God would strike her blind, Rhonda turned to the next photograph. She blinked and the hot tears began streaming down her face. This picture showed her with her legs spread wide apart and Lord Folsome's head buried in her vaginal crevice. Her tongue was hanging laxly out of the corner of her mouth and her eyes were rolled back in her head. Shown clearly were her taut stomach muscles and flexed buttocks, and her fingernails clawing a bloody trail of lust down his back. Her face was smeared with what could only be cum; it glistened all over her neck, and a huge puddle of it could be seen alongside her shoulders on the rumpled sheet. As she gazed through watery eyes at the picture it was all coming back to her now. The dream! It hadn't been a dream, after all. She remembered the moment; in the dream it had been so wonderful to have her husband doing that to her.
She realized that Lord Folsome had become silent. He merely stared at her, and his expression was once again one of anger and something else.
He didn't make the command, but she turned to the next photograph ... and already sure of what she would see. It was a close-up of Lord Folsome's cock in the process of being jammed into her vagina. What made the picture so horrible again was the sheer expression of delight and impatient lust on her face. She thought dully: it didn't hurt at all when he did that; it was wonderful. I remember the sensation now. Beautiful. But I thought it was my husband making love to me....not someone using me as a ploy, an insensitive whore. She suddenly realized that no one seeing the photograph would ever think of her as being an "insensitive whore". A "whore" yes. "Insensitive," never! Not with that gloating sensual expression on her face, not with those fingernails digging deeply into his driving buttocks. No, if anything, she was a very sensitive whore, one who was enjoying the fucking of her life.
The next, as she was pretty sure it would, showed Monroe with his stubby little dick in the process of sodomizing her. Again the photographer had masterfully focused on her expression. She was the personification of wantonness. The hang of the taut breasts like ripe fruit about to drop, the tendons of her neck, the muscles of her inner thighs, the deep indentation created by the eager flexing of the anal muscles ... all were clear indications that she was within seconds of obtaining an orgasm.
It was all too much to bear, much less understand. Her dignity crushed, sobs racked her body and each breath was a shuddering one. She had never been so mortified, so humiliated, so ashamed in her life. The pictures, no matter how they had come to be taken, gave Rhonda an insight to that darker being within her whose existence she had never known or even suspected.
Lord Folsome was no longer amused; he stalk-ed angrily toward the door and closed it. He stood there impatiently rocking back and forth glaring at her. "Whimper all you want, slut. Cry your heart out. It makes no difference. Your precious husband shall see these when he rteurns from the hunt tonight. And in tomorrow's post, an envelope identical to this one will be transmitted to your mother, to your local police authorities and to...." He took his hand from behind his back and held out Rhonda's green adress book. He grinned evilly, " ... and to every name in this book."
She screamed and leapt toward him; she was rewarded by a vicious backhand in the face that sent her sprawling to the rug. In falling, her peignior ripped, her gown slithered up to her waist, where the full ripeness of her upper thighs and buttocks were fully visible to Lord Folsome's cruelly glinting eyes. "You Beast you ... you filthy beast," she sobbed.
"My dear young lady. These photographs are not of a 'filthy beast' ... but of a common street whore-sucking, being sucked, being, if you will pardon the Saxon expression, 'fucked' ... and being sodomized. Oh, how she loves it all. Note the enjoyment upon her face. How amusing it will be when your mother and all of your little friends and relatives see what a happy honeymoon you've enjoyed."
"What is it you want?" she gasped, feeling horror and sickness suddenly wash over her like an unrelenting tide of despair.
"That's hardly the question you want to ask, is it? What you really want to know is: How do I get those photographs back?"
Rhonda looked up from the floor. The bulge was growing in his trousers as he gazed at her uncovered body. She made a futile attempt to pull her gown down. A part of her mind was screaming like a frightened, caged animal, " ... Help me, please, someone ... help me." Yet she knew there was no one to help. No help from the local police and certainly none from Rick. If Rick ever saw the pictures, he would leave her in an instant. With a sudden caving in of her spirit, she asked barely audibly, "What do ... I have to do ... to get them back?"
Lord Folsome smiled. "Excellent, my dear. You are, as I said before, a quick study, a fast learner." He picked up the envelope and withdrew the first one. He rolled his eyes theatrically. "Oh, yes! I remember it well. It was delightful; You showed such tremendous talent for it." He looked as if he were thinking, then nodded his head. "That's it! That seems fair enough. For each photographic scene you recreate I shall return a picture."
As she realized what he was asking, Rhonda suddenly felt a painful spasm in her stomach; she was sure she was going to vomit. Oh God! How could any human so degrade another, so debase another as he was trying to do to her. She wouldn't do it ... she couldn't do it. She shook her head and mumbled, "I won't." Then she looked up in tearful pleading, "Please, Lord Folsome. Please, please have mercy-pity. Give me the photographs. Please!" The last was a half hysterical scream.
"Of course, my child. They shall be returned to you ... upon my word as a gentleman ... just as soon as you fulfill the conditions of the contract."
Sobbing incoherently, Rhonda shook her head violently from side to side, "I can't. I just can't do that!"
Lord Folsome clapped his hands together in dismissal. "Then we really have nothing more to discuss. The photographs will be mailed tomorrow." He turned to the door.
"Please. Have pity." Rhonda screamed.
Lord Folsome did not answer. He opened the door and stood in the archway. "Good evening, Madam. And sweet dreams." He started to close the door.
"No," she shouted in desperation and fear. "No ... come back." Her body was wracked with shuddering sobs of distress as she buried her face in her hands.
"You'll do it?" Lord Folsome's voice was cold, inflexible.
"Oh, God forgive me ... yes!" she screamed. "Yes ... you, you beast ... I'll do it!"
Lord Folsome closed the door behind him. His face was red in rage and his voice tight in poorly-suppressed fury. "Watch your language, slut, or I shall have second thoughts about my generosity. As it is, you will pay a little extra for your persistent use of that odious term."
Abjectly, knowing she must be on his good side to get the photographs, she said, "I'm sorry."
"That's better. Immensely better. Now, my dear, take your hands away from your pretty little face ... now!" The last word cracked like a whip and Rhonda's body jumped as though struck by a whip.
Lord Folsome handed down photograph number one. "Shall we begin? Recreate this ... and you may have the picture to do as you wish. Burn it, tear it, or keep it among your treasured souvenirs. Look at it closely."
"Oh God," she moaned in shame and distress.
"Take off your clothes." It was an order, there could be no disobedience. She rose, silent, unable to speak for the humiliation she felt. The man's eyes burned huge holes in her breasts and pelvic area. When she hesitated, hoping desperately that he would change his mind, that this was really a monstrous nightmare from which she would soon awaken, Lord Folsome narrowed his eyes in warning. Quickly then, she took off the peignior. Then, eyes closed and unable to look at him, she slowly lifted the gown over her head to stand naked and trembling abjectly before him.
"Beautiful, just beautiful. Now stand there until I get my clothes off." For the first time the old man began showing real signs of impatience. She watched him horrified as he removed his coat, tie, shirt and undershirt. And then he unbuttoned his trousers and dropped his pants and shorts to the floor. A moment later, he stood before her with only his shoes, socks and garters on. His huge white erection grew like a poisonous toadstool in the grey tundra of his pubic hair. "All right, my dear. Picture number one: on your hands and knees ... crawl to me."
It was going to be even worse that she thought. She kept saying over and over again in her mind, "This can't be happening to me; this can't be happening to me." Lord Folsome was a hideous creature seen in some nightmare as he leered down at her with those horribly hot and unbending eyes. She would die before she did this. "No ... I can't." She clenched her eyes tightly shut as if she could erase the scene from memory and make it cease to exist.
"If I'm forced to put my clothes on I swear to you that nothing-absolutely nothing you could offer, not matter how far you crawl, could obtain the release of these photographs. Do you quite understand?"
"Please?" she pleaded, looking at him once more in supplication. "Please...."
Lord Folsome merely stroked his waiting cock in answer. "I'm waiting. On your hands and knees. Quickly!"
It was hopeless, she knew it was hopeless. All was lost. It didn't matter. She would die of humiliation if the photos were released; she would die of humiliation if she were to undergo the cruel debasement in order to retrieve them. It didn't matter except the pictures would kill Rick's love for her, would destroy her mother, would be traumatic for all her friends receiving copies. This way only she would be hurt. Slowly she sank to her knees and began crawling like a a wounded animal towards his naked groin.
Now all she could think about was getting the execution of her sole indignity as rapidly as possible over with. Lord Folsome misunderstood her suddenly speeded up crawl. "Don't be so eager, my dear. You're acting as hungry as you were last night." He laughed and backed away when she reached him. She crawled forward two more paces, then reached up for his cock. He backed away and laughed at her. "Come on," he coaxed and moved back until his hips were against the bed. He sat down and spread his legs. Rhonda could see his testicles dangling like ripe, flesh colored fruit above the brown puckered opening of his anus. His cock stuck up in the air at an outrageous angle, and occasionally it throbbed and jerked spasmodically.
Rhonda crawled up on the platform and to the bedside, no longer conscious of moving or acting. She was merely an automated robot incapable of independent action or thought.
"Now, my dear, for the first photograph...."
She shuddered in revulsion as she bent forward to pay unwilling homage to the waving purple and white penis. She could see angry red veins running up its white and blue trunk and the throbbing purple hooded head already seeping a white thick fluid. His balls were high and tight now in his purple scrotum; his gray pubic hair lay like white foliage struck down by hail. Inside her mind a voice kept crying out. "Ask him once again."; but she refused to heed it, knowing instinctively that it would be useless. Besides, she knew her abject begging and pleading only added to his sadistic enjoyment. She closed her eyes and swallowed, muttering a silent prayer, "Rick ... forgive me. Please forgive me, darling, for what I'm about to do."
Her lips closed wetly about the smooth rubbery head. Lord Folsome groaned. His eyes were bulging in unconcealed lust as he stared down at the top of her blonde young head. The knob of his cock tasted like sweet soap, the viscous fluid seeping from the glans was slightly saline with a faint odor. He moved the rod in her mouth. "Suck a little, nibble a little, my dear."
"I was dreaming ... I am dreaming ... I am dreaming," Rhonda said to herself with each thrust of the hated cock in and out of her mouth. She had dreamed of doing this last night; it had been terribly exciting, terribly enjoyable ... but that had been with her husband! She felt nothing now but humiliation and despair. She followed his directions, mindlessly licking and nibbling and tongue teasing as he ordered her. She was sure that it would never end, but it did with Lord Folsome saying, "That's enough for now."
She removed her mouth from his cock. She kneeled there, head down in subjugation waiting for whatever cruelty was to come next.
"Get on the bed," Lord Folsome said. Spiritlessly, Rhonda did as instructed. She lay there, legs slightly apart, staring up at the ceiling-not making any effort to cover her body. Lord Folsome gazed speculatively down at her. "You aren't showing nearly enough enthusiasm, my dear. Perhaps we should turn that little furnace of yours up higher." He walked away from the bed and came back a moment later with the second photograph. He held it before her eyes. "Shall we try for number two?" When Rhonda did not answer, he slapped her with the picture. The sharp edge of the paper cut the underside of her chin, drawing a thin line of blood. "Answer me," he snarled.
"Yes...."
"Yes, what, you slut?"
"Yes. Let us do number two."
"There is a vulgarism-American, I believe-called 'eating pussy'. Some of our lesser educated Englishmen call it cunt scouring. Now you must ask me in a nice way using either of those vulgarisms."
Rhonda closed her eyes and sighed. "I want you to eat pussy."
"Whose?"
"Mine."
"Say it then."
She sighed again and said, without any inflection at all, "I want you to eat my pussy."
"Please?"
"Please...."
Rhonda was aware that her legs were being spread apart. She flinched in spite of herself, when his finger parted the softness of her pubic hair and touched her vaginal lips. She remembered the dream last night! Presumably Rick had been doing this to her. It had been wildly exciting and erotic beyond description. But now, she felt nothing. Only a deadness down there as he began his perverted licking.
The numbness lasted until he reached the clitoris; he put his lips on it and began sucking as though it were a very small penis. Rhonda's body stiffened as she felt the unwelcome sensations return down there. Lord Folsome chuckled as he sensed she had finally begun to come to life. Next she felt his tongue jab into her vagina; it was like an electrical cattle prod placed in there. She jumped, trying to pull herself away from him.
Then the slow, rhythmic, tantalizing licking began again. She flexed the muscles along her inner thighs attempting to make the unwanted feeling of pleasure go away but it only added to her enjoyment. With the tensing of her thighs, Lord Folsome went back to lick again at the tiny, suddenly pulsating clitoris.
Now Rhonda was beginning to moan and sob as she realized what these sensations implied. No, this couldn't be happening to her. It mustn't happen! The nerve endings down there were betraying her. She couldn't permit this to feel pleasurable; she couldn't. But, inspite of her revulsion at the act, her abdomen rose and fell with increasing rapidity as the old man began taking long licking strokes with his tongue and using his nose to buffet the clitoris while his chin whiskers were scraping against her tightly clenched anus. She knew she was beginning to secrete lubricants and liquids from glands that were taking notice of the loving attention being showered on them. It wasn't until she discovered her pelvis was beginning to grind lewdly into the old man's sardonically smiling face that she had realized that she had lost this one particular battle. Her shamelessly aroused body was moving independently now. She hadn't the least control over it any longer. His hot hungry mouth enclosed the entire vaginal labia area and be began sucking ferociously at it. The exquisite sensation shot across her loins into the nerve endings at the mouth of her womb. His drooling mouth kept the labia tightly clamped, his tongue pressured its way through the compressed vaginal lips, and Rhonda almost lost her mind attempting to control her reactions.
Finally-and she knew it the second that it happened-she reached the point of no return. She was going to have a climax. She fought it, screamed against it in her mind, but muscles and nerves all rebelled against the discipline-seeking instead the sweet release. Then her pelvis was jerking and her hands were trying to push the old man's face up all the way into her vagina, and a voice she had never heard before was screeching from her throat, "I'm cumming. Oh God, lick harder ... faster ... now ... now! ... Aieee."
She was almost unconscious from the combination of shame and satiation when Lord Folsome raised her knees to her chest. Abruptly she felt his penis pressing against her open, unprotected vagina.
"Now, number three," he said.
"No ... you'll hurt me," she moaned but it was already too late. She tried to scissor her legs but the movement caused him to slip forward and his long hard cock slid effortlessly into the mouth of her cervix. "Gaaagh," she screamed. God, it was excrutiating. It was a white hot poker plunged into her. Worse, far worse, more agonizing than even the first night with Rick. That pain, at least, had come from love-this came from torture and debasement and rape.
Lord Folsome smiled down at her. "Don't put on an act, my dear." He reached over to the bedside table and pulled down the photograph. The movement hurt her and she moaned in pain. "See what immense pleasure you are getting out of me.
That is the real you. You're only acting right now," he said.
Rhonda's eyes were blinded to the picture; the reality of the moment was that she was in pain from sexual intercourse and his huge penis. He moved it out a bit; the withdrawal motion was agonizing. He pushed it in to its utmost depth again. "Ooooohhh, God! No, please. You're hurting me. Please, I'll do anything but not this ... you're killing me." A sudden jab was the only answer to her pitiful plea. She was suddenly screaming at the top of her voice as he began viciously jabbing into her; she jerked her eyes open to see the old man's cruel sadistic grin above her. He was killing her; he wanted to hear her scream and moan and he was enjoying every second of it.
Her vagina felt as though it had shattered and was bleeding from a thousand different places. His cock lay throbbing sunk deep in her belly, filling every part of her insides. There wasn't a single fleshy ridge on the prick that she could not feel as it pressed tight against the soft flesh of her cunt. She lay immobile, afraid to move because of the pain each movement brought.
Lord Folsome grinned down at her. He flexed his cock inside her belly and she felt it jerk up against the cervix. She groaned and her face was twisted in pain.
Lord Folsome merely smiled more sadistically. He flexed it again.
She kept her stomach muscles as tight as possible hoping she would create an intolerable pressure for him down there. Slowly he pulled his hardened penis from her tight vaginal sheath until it was about half out, then slowly pushed it in again.
"Ooooohhhh please ... you're hurting me...." She said it automatically and with a sudden jolt to her brain she realized that she was screaming a lie. It was not painful. Furthermore she knew he was aware of her new knowledge.
"Now you must ask me to fuck you."
"No ... I won't. I can't. Please don't. Do what you have to do and get it over with, but please don't ask me to degrade myself like that!"
Lord Folsome continued to move his cock back and forth slowly. Rhonda was aware that her vagina was making a wet, lewd sucking noise, as it slipped moistly in and out of her vagina. This too suddenly began to add to the forbidden excitement she felt coursing through her betraying body.
"You must beg," he said, insistently, "that is part of the contract. After all, each time you say 'please stop', you're begging. So beg me to fuck you." He shoved his prick forward and a shock of unwanted pleasure shot through her womb.
"Oooohhh, no! Please no." That, of course, would be the final straw-the ultimate in humiliation. She had maintained a tiny shred of pride because she knew she was suffering all this for Rick and her mother's sake. But to be forced to beg? That would be the end of her forever as a decent person. He had taken her self-respect, her fidelity to her husband ... taken everything. She couldn't, she wouldn't give him the ultimate triumph of hearing her beg for him to force these horribly depraved indignities on her helpless body!
Lord Folsome stopped moving his penis half in, half out of her cunt. "Very well," he said. "A woman has other ways of begging. We shall see."
Rhonda didn't understand what he was talking about, and she didn't waste time trying to figure it out because her mind was elsewhere.
When his penis twitched again she was astonished to find that her own inner muscles had flexed in involuntary response bringing a smile of delight to him. She fought to keep from doing it again. But it happened again, and there was a groan from him. It happened again and again ... and again until it seemed that she was a machine.
He was slowly rocking between her thighs and she could feel the narrow passageway being widened with each short stroke. The friction had caused her vagina to run from agony to anticipation. The hot glow was being pushed inside. A strange and wonderful glow. She fought that too. She fought her breathing. The perspiration popped out on her forehead as she fought a losing battle with her pelvis after discovering it shamelessly going down to meet the rising thrust of his cock. And then, the battle was over. Rhonda's body asserted its independence. The lewd flames of lust poured through her veins and her heart sped up in an effort to get the hot blood into every-part of her body. Her pelvis was unleashing itself. It moved on its own on the white rod of hardened flesh. The two things moved in harmony and excitement. Her inner muscles twitched against massaging and milking the cock for its entire length.
Her body writhed beneath him and she made low moans of passionate encouragement with each thrust of his prick. Her breath panted and her legs on either side of his driving hips were moving in lewd circles. Suddenly, there was no further thought of anything but that she was cumming again ... and she wanted it and she was dose, close, close. Then, he stopped.
She couldn't believe it and he grinned down at her. "You do like to be fucked, don't you my dear?"
She stared at him with hatred and her nostrils quivered. He flexed his cock deep inside her and she mewled.
"You like to be fucked?" He flexed it twice.
"Oh God, help me, yes ... yes!" she screamed, and the cry came from the deepest part of her being. "Fuck me!"
"All right, my dear, but we have a change in plan ... a much more enjoyable way of you reaching your little climax. You'll get all the photos as long as you follow directions.
"I'll do anything," she screamed through gritted teeth. She moved her pelvis up and down and she wanted to bring herself to final fruition.
"I'm weary ... I'll lie on the bottom and you shall be on top," Lord Folsome said. Clasping her buttocks tightly in each hand, he rolled over carrying her with him. His cock stayed deeply buried in her wildly stretched vagina. She propped her knees into the mattress with his legs between her. He pulled her buttocks down and then pushed her back up...."That's the way it's done," he said.
She rode his prick up and down and around and around. She moaned in wild delight as she discovered the extra friction of this new position. It was the most exciting thing she had ever felt in her life. She hated herself for what she was doing but knew that she couldn't stop. She was a helpless slave even though she was on top and free to run away. The pictures were unimportant ... the cock the thing!
She was moaning incoherencies now and coming closer and closer as Lord Folsome lay back with his arms behind his head, smiling. Then Lord Folsome's arms locked her in position and she was incapable of moving. She stared at him wondering if he was coming or had just gone mad. Instead he was still smiling. She wiggled her ass in an effort to loose herself from his arms....He shook his head, "Relax my dear, here's where you get all the pictures. Just lie still and relax for a minute ... don't move." Rhonda felt obscene with her buttocks waving nakedly in the air that way but she did as instructed.
Suddenly she felt a strange finger rubbing from her vagina to her anus. She screamed and twisted around, then moaned in terror when she saw Monroe beside the bed. He was stark naked ... his stubby cock was a full erection.
"Good evening, Rhonda," Monroe said formally and pressured his finger into her tight anal ring. "Oh, no ... please, no...." Rhonda panted...."You can't, it isn't right...." She jerked and tried to rise.
"Hold her," Monroe ordered and she felt Lord Folsome's arms lock like a vise around her waist.
Rhonda screamed again, this time in pain, as the finger moved all the way in to its knuckle. She groaned as he began sawing it back and forth. Rhonda attempted to get away from it by pressing down. This only served to skewer her cunt more deeply on Lord Folsome's cock coming up from below.
The pain in her anus and rectum was intense. She sdayed her legs to avoid the pain and pressure. Monroe climbed atop the bed. He peeled open her soft white buttocks and clamped his hands on her hips. Then he pressed forward with his cock. She fought it but was held immovable by the arms of Lord Folsome and Monroe's prick. His prick slipped easily into the already stretched anal opening; he kept right on going until his balls slapped her buttocks "Ghhhhgggggghhhh," she screamed.
Monroe began moving tentatively, "Gentle motions-those count in a young asshole," he said philosophically.
Her asshole was filled ... her cunt was filled. There was only a thin membrane separating the two pricks, and they rubbed and bumped against each other like hungry sharks in the aquarium.
It was not long before the two men began buffeting her between them ... She had never felt so helpless and naked before. Lord Folsoma was obviously colse to coming or close to a heart attack ... and Rhonda could feel the pain being replaced by a kind of pleasure. Her body had no recourse but to accept. And once again she lost control of her body! She could feel her orgasm coming back ... then with frightening suddenness she was there! It was she who took control from the two men ... it was she who began frantically bucking against them urging them on to deeper thrusts. She reared her ass in the air to get full benefit of Monroe's cock and then fell heavily and hard onto Folsome's still striving cock. "Fuck me," she screamed, "Fucker harder ... harder ... Oh God, fuck me harder!"
And it was her soprano scream that started the sweet upheaval first in her cunt, then seconds later in her rectum, then in her clitoris. She came in all three places and she continued to come for as long as the men would have her until they fell from her in satiated weariness.
When it was over she lay staring toward the ceiling ... she felt degraded and used. And overall was the stunning fact that she had enjoyed it all ... not the debasement but the sheer sex ... that she had enjoyed thoroughly! And then she wept....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hours had past, night had fallen, and Rick knew he was hopelessly lost. He had walked and walked and walked. It was midnight when he arrived. The castle was completely dark except for lights in their suite. He felt happy that Rhonda was there and safe. Rather than awaken the house he went back to the servants' entrance. He fumbled his way through the storage area in the dark, and he found a door that led to the dimly lighted hallway. Quickly he made his wav up the servants' back stairs. When he reached the third floor, he turned toward what he thought was his suite but he saw a strange entrance way and knew he was in the wrong corridor. Peering around to make sure no one was watching Rick quickly stepped through the opening.
At one turning he saw what appeared to be a pane of clear glass. Beyond it was an empty room. He walked on until he came to what appeared to be a theater lounge with several leather chairs placed strategically in front of another window. There was a tripod standing there also. When Rick looked down from the glass he almost passed out from the sudden shock. He could see Noreen reading a book in bed. Even as he watched, she yawned, closed the book, and turned off the light.
Suspicion was piling up on suspicion. With great apprehension he began moving back toward the secret passage. He made a wrong turn once and opened a door and found himself in a well equipped modern darkroom. What kind of a crazy operation was this anyway? He decided they better leave tonight. He left the darkroom without looking at the film hung from the drying line.
All the lights were on in their suite when he entered. Rhonda looked pale and distraught and was dressed in her traveling clothes. Her bags were packed and ready to go. She turned to him and immediately burst out in tears. "Oh Rick," she uttered and weeped copiously.
"Rhonda? What's wrong?" he asked suddenly very frightened that she knew about Noreen.
"Rick, don't touch me ... don't come near me ... I'm leaving you."
Rick swallowed and decided she knew about Noreen after all. "Something I've done," he managed....
She denied this and then finally reached in her purse and pulled out the manila envelope. She gave it to him.
Rick unfastened the clasp and pulled out the pictures. His eyes widened with horror and distaste as he looked at the first one. He looked sick by the time he had finished the stack.
He cleared his mind enough to ask her, "Rhonda, did you know what you were doing or do you remember it as sort of ... well, a sort of dream?"
Sobbing, she merely nodded. "In my dream I was doing it with you ... and it was so beautiful
... and so right!"
"You couldn't help doing this ... you were drugged ... or hypnotised."
"Rick, those pictures were taken last night. Tonight I wasn't drugged and I repeated every one of those things. They forced me by saying they would show you, and send them to mother and all of my friends...."
"Blackmail!" Rick suddenly thought of the negatives. Rick realized that there would be negatives of others too ... the stories about the weird castle that had been heard in town were true ... he could send them all to jail if he found the negatives ... to jail with long years of no sex at all! That would be revenge. He pleaded with her to calm down and pack his things. Then he left for the darkroom.
Once in the darkroom, he gave silent thanks for Monroe's scientific methods of operation. Every print was numbered in a negative book so it took only a minute to discover that six prints had been made of Rhonda. Those would be the six they gave her.
There had been five prints made of him and seven of he and Rhonda together. He grabbed them all and shoved them in his pocket. The negative books had names and dates and would make excellent evidence for the police.
It took four trips to carry all the negative books to the car. When he got there after the last trip, Rhonda was waiting in the front seat.
He pushed the car down the hill and through the front gates. When they reached the turn in the road hiding them from the castle, Rick put the car in gear and started the engine.
They drove up the hill, then swung around a curve. For a moment, the moon glittered and skipped across the lake, while the castle looked as though it were some ghostly apparition from the past ... then it disappeared from sight.
Rhonda began weeping again.
Rick patted her knee and then reached inside his coat and handed her a manila envelope. "Here, these probably won't make you feel any better, but they may change your mind about a lot of things."
He heard her gasp as she saw the first picture ... succeeding gasps followed with each additional picture. Finally she turned questioningly and said, "You look as if you were ... enjoying these things...."
"I was...."
"But how could you?"
"Simple. I thought I was giving pleasure to you ... just as you thought you were giving pleasure to me.
Rhonda was suddenly happy. In the East, the sky was lightening as a new day approached.
They stopped twice; once to burn their photographs and the rolls of film shot of them. The ashes were thrown into the cleansing waters of a lake and disappeared from sight.
The second stop was equally memorable ... for Rhonda was to discover that dreams and things that happen under duress can never be equated with the real thing. And when the boy and girl had finally rolled away from each other, they discovered the dawn had come and a new day was there ... full of promise and untold, coming delight.
