Although there are still many levels of society in which deep concern is felt about the intensity and depth of the so-called Sexual Revolution, there is no one who will not admit that it is simply an extension, a projection, rather than a new growth. Whatever other differences there may be between Man and the other animals, once the female is mature, she is ready for the male, and, needless to say, the male is ready for her. And this has always been true.
Then, the calm observer may ask, what's all the noise about? In Victorian England, in Ben Franklin's Colonial America, in Francois Villon's Paris, there was always the rakehell's adage: "If they're big enough, they're old enough."
True. Always a slick-talking, persuasive man, or a persistent youth, or a fat-cat playboy with carriage (or Ferrari) and yacht to get the young lady's goodies, to "rob her of her most cherished treasure," in the peculiar language of the long-ago.
As a matter-of-fact, according to Carolyn Hunt, author of this novel, the male was more often the takee than the taker. Ms Hunt's view is not clouded by the Woman's Movement. "I'm for anything that gives women an advantage," she declares. "And the particularly interesting fact-to me, at least-about the Sexual Revolution chatter is based on the fact everyone must recognize and few care to discuss. That is, that it's really the Woman's Sexual Revolution. Women always wanted what the men could give them. Also, women always knew they had what it took to get it. With one great big horrible injustice. Women were belittled, shackled by convention, abused by unfair legislation, and even screwed up by social rules they, themselves, were conned into making and enforcing.
"Result: Ten generations of repression and unfairness are now breaking into the open. Every day, some formerly timid housewife realizes that sex is neither naughty, dirty, or dangerous. And if some stereotype of a Dirty Old Man wants to seduce the probably long since seduced high school senior, women all along Main Street as well as Broadway are asking: 'How about me? I could use a little of that stuff in the boys locker rooms.' And why not? Both the Dirty Old Man and the repressed and hot-blooded mature woman are only behaving as nature intended them to behave."
It is unquestionably a part of a world-wide move toward sanity that we can accept an infinite variety in the patterns of sexual life without the trauma even the most minor improvizations once brought. Sisters and brothers raised in isolation, sons who, for one reason or another, cannot find love away from mom's understanding heart and outstretched arms, all such possibilities now plead for understanding not only from professional men, but from human beings in all walks of sexual ambience.
To the novelist who tries to write with clarity and realism about male and female, it would be sheer cowardice to fail to produce, in fiction, what everyday life produces in fact.
A young doctor in Vienna, stubbornly seeking a common motivator among all people-this was c. 1880-said: "There is now, and always has been, sex in everything. In the cell which preceded man by twenty million years, there was sex. Before the cell, in the slime which warmed under the primeval sun, can we say there was not sex? If any man cares to prove there was not, then he must first answer the question of how he got here."
His name is Sigmund Freud. We have an idea he would have liked this little book.
New from Surrey House, Inc., you will find four fresh, new Bedside Books, along with their all-time bestselling companions, Rated-X and Surrey Collectors Series. Serious collectors will want each and every one, side-by-side on their special, private bookshelves, handy for several pleasure-filled readings.
Bedside Books, like all Surrey House, Inc. books, are designed with YOU in mind, and every attempt to reflect your desires and reading tastes is made. Readers' comments are invited at all times, and we urge you to write us, at all times, with exact details of what you like to read, or with any other sexual matters you wish to impart, IN ABSOLUTE, STRICTEST CONFIDENCE' You need not identify yourself if you wish not to, but only through communication with YOU can we give YOU what YOU want.
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-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
When summer comes to Bonville, it's no surprise. Like Bonville's people, the weather follows a predictable pattern. March winds, April showers, May flowers. Same old routine.
And June heat. Good, solid, dependable heat. Bikini weather. Weather for sitting in the shade of a leafy old tree, drinking iced tea. Or a Tom Collins.
Elizabeth Cantrell, sitting in her upstairs front bedroom in the old Victorian house that was now hers, now that Sam had died and, if his calculations were correct, gone straight to Heaven to lend God a helping hand, loved this heat.
She was doing something she had always wanted to do, but had never dared when her husband was alive. Something really simple.
She was sitting bare-ass naked, cupping her soft breasts in her two hands, enjoying their sensitivity. It made her feel free. The heat of summer, and what she was doing.
None of the Cantrells were lovable. The men were bullies, the women no more than browbeaten slaves. And Sam had been the worst.
"It's that damned religion," Elizabeth said aloud, looking down at the smooth, warm breasts she held, giving their expanded nipples a loving pressure, feeling it clear down to her crotch.
"You're not sinful at all, you pretty things," she said in her warm, sweet voice. "You're warm and nice and tingly. And when I squeeze you, I feel it clear down to my, uh, my sweet, warm little old thing."
She knew that there were a dozen names for what she was talking about. She knew most of them. But Sam never used one of them. Not even the surgically sanitary ones like Doctor Brown used, on the very infrequent occasions when she was able to talk to him alone. Sam hadn't held with a woman discussing her private parts with anyone, doctor or not.
She shivered in the heat, thinking of her dead husband as she sat thinking about her cunt. He had never said the word "love" to her. As one of the many lay preachers in his church, he used the term often. Loving and fearing God was his favorite theme. But all he had ever given to her was fear. She was quite certain that Sam had intended that she "love and fear" him, just as he preached that all the congregation should love and fear God. After all, in his church-which had automatically become Elizabeth's church when she married him-men were everything, women nothing-except creatures born to serve men.
Looking at her naked body in the tall, clear mirror of her antique dresser, Elizabeth smiled. Her lips formed the words: "Go to hell, Sam," but she could not speak them aloud. She felt free, but not quite that free. Old habits are hard to break. Old fears are hard to uproot.
She heard steps coming up the walk, her neat, old red brick walk, and went to the tall window, standing partially concealed by the clean, creamy old lace curtain. It was one of the Burke children, who lived down the old highway a few hundred yards. They were one of the few "new" families that had come to Bonville in Elizabeth's memory. Ten or eleven years ago. The girl had been a baby then. She must be, what? Twelve? Probably. Certainly no older. It was hard to believe, a girl of twelve with such a mature figure. Well, to be honest, such breasts. With a quirk of her lips, Elizabeth touched her own, feeling that lovely thrill again, loving it.
What could that child want with her? And then she remembered. Something she had picked up on an infrequent visit into town. That her father, Linus Burke, had been laid off, along with a number of other carpenters. Perhaps the girl was seeking work.
The antique twist-and-release door bell made its muted tone of musical inquiry through the silent house, and Elizabeth, grinning at her whim, went to the window and called: "Come on in, child! I'm in my bedroom, upstairs."
She felt a little charge of guilt and gaiety. She was so proud of her new freedom, her freedom from the dreadful, inhuman tyranny of her dead husband that she wanted to flaunt it. Perhaps to share it? She wasn't certain. She knew, though, that the girl's father was a high ranking member of Sam's church. If he adhered to the church dogma, he was automatically a tyrant. Every man was a vicar of God, an instrument of God. Every man the absolute and unquestioned head of his household and family. And the others, the wife and children, were his slaves.
She remembered hpw, on their honeymoon, Sam had made this clear. She had not been a shy and frightened bride. On the contrary. She had almost a minimum of sexual experience, having been late in maturing, late in dating, and marrying early. Just a few daring kisses, daring for her, at least, since she had some vague idea that letting a boy get his tongue in your mouth might cause pregnancy. And, on two occasions, egged on by a girl friend on a double date, she had thrown herself passionately into an orgy of petting, which was what they called it then. Letting the guy pull her sweater up so that he could suck on her breasts, letting her thighs go apart so that he could get his fingers into her young vagina.
She shivered again, nude and free in the warm room, thinking of that youthful wildness, of the vast heat which had consumed her as the male digit touched her on her most sensitive part, her clitoris, and the boy had touched it gently and expertly until she had the vital experience of heterosexual orgasm. He had been both gentle and experienced, seeming to know exactly what to do. And later, he had held her hand, pressing her fingers together and sticking his tongue between them. She had never realized a tongue could be so strong. And she knew what he was asking-that she let him stick his mouth down on her thing and work his powerful, slick tongue into her crevice, tickling and tonguing her clit. And once again, since she was still tender and itchily sensitive from his finger's joy, she had writhed and screamed in orgasm. And her girl friend, watching wide-eyed, had said: "Oh, God, Liz, that's too beautiful!" and had promptly spread herself on the ground for her boy friend, sobbing: "It's so beautiful!"
That time was once. The next time frightened her. It was the same boy. She had doubts about going out with him. Actually, she had doubts of herself. Strange, after these years of marriage to Sam, she felt more virginal than back then, all those years ago, when she was actually a virgin. Sam had mentally and emotionally beaten her until she called her genitals her thing. Not so when she was seventeen. She knew the names, and used them. At least in her thinking, if not in her speech. And she had thought: He wants to get his peter into me. Into my pussy! And just the thought of the hot picture it made in her mind had brought her to the boiling point. Just a few light strokes of her tender finger around her little bud of joy had sent her into a pleasant, writhing cum.
But, afraid or not, she had gone on the date. And this time, seeing her friend once more spread her girlish thighs so that her date could force his throbbing organ between those soft, dark-furred lips, Elizabeth had moaned and flung herself on the boy she had so enjoyed the time before.
He had held her and kissed her, gently mauling her firm young breasts, milking them until she screamed with pleasure with his tongue buried in her throat. And all the time, the deep feeling in her vagina imperiously demanded that she give it something solid to devour, something large and hard to stretch it. And, when the boy had gently laid her back in the car, she had gladly raised her leg to the back of the seat, dropping her other leg to the floor of the car, opening herself to him. She had already begun to cum the instant he touched her. She did not know it then, although the boy told her later, but her pussy was working like an infant's sucking mouth.
She felt the heat of his cock, a sort of radiant heat that came from his crotch. And his member seemed so big, so hard. It entered her, stretching and hurting, and all the time she was cumming and cumming, the joyful muscles trying to nip the hard tool, to draw it deep inside her. And it was too much for him.
Where she had felt the hurtfully beautiful thrust of his cock in her tender and unused fuck-hole, she was now transfixed with a spear that shot pain deep into her guts. Strangely, she loved the shock of pain, the way it sent its feelers deep into her bowels, throughout all her buried, wildly awakened female parts.
They loved it too much. As she felt the stretch of his warm, gloriously hard penis, deep into a cunt which was already writhing in orgasm, her inexperienced but divinely sex-hot body gave a violent heave, uncunting him.
Her soft, tender belly took the hot lash of his jism. Her sweater was far up, above her breasts, so that he could suck them. Her skirt was bunched around her waist. It was a wild sort of glory for the innocent, fuck-hungry girl, her aroused cuntal system thudding in a wildly hot cum while her lover's sperm, warm and slick and sticky, poured out over her responsive belly and thighs and breasts in long, pearly-white spurts.
For him, it was a bittersweet experience. To have his cock in something so humanly hot, so tightly gripping, so lovingly animal in its muscular response, was a dream come true. To see the long ropes of his jism pour over her softly sculptured body was, in a way, a tender delight. And he knew that he had found, in this naive small-town girl, that perfect piece of ass, a girl who could cum from the touch of a finger, the one single hard thrust of his dick. What might she not do in the maddeningly sweet throes of a long, gentle fuck? But they never learned.
In the quiet dark along Cochran's Creek, they were alerted by a sweep of headlights, given enough time to adjust their clothing, start the car, and whip out of the brush and onto a dirt road before the inquisitive cops arrived. Laughing, kissing, loving.
And the very next morning, that part of Elizabeth's life was over. Two federal marshals came from Crosley, the county seat, and took her impulsive, hot and tender lover away. He was a draft evader, a man who, as he wrote her later, could not tolerate the thought of killing North Korean soldiers, faceless humans who had done no wrong except to fight for what they believed right.
So, while she might have been technically a non-virgin, she had never known the deeper joys of sex. But she knew enough about these joys, and about her own body's responses, to look forward to her bridal night. Warm, eager, pulsing with desire. Remembering the gentle, tender expertise of her first and only lover. Ready to give Sam, twenty years her senior, all she had. He had been a quiet, undemonstrative suitor. Not ungentle, not harsh. Just quiet. And she had taken this to mean that he would be kind. She would find out that his quietness was a form of indifference to her needs and desires, a form of contempt for her-and all women-as people, and a selfishness unmatched in all the world. Plus, of course, the strange, almost cruel dictates of his church, its violent condemnation of a long list of "sins".
For, when they had gone to their bridal chamber in this very house-it was this very room, too-and Elizabeth had flung her warm arms around Sam's neck and kissed him, pushing her hot, slick tongue between his full lips, he had wrenched her arms loose and flung her across the room.
"Whore!" he had shouted. "Can't you wait until the lights are out and we are decently under the covers? Do you want God to see what his imperfect humans do? Must you flaunt your sinfulness before your creator?"
She had felt totally numbed at this new and unsuspected side of the man she had married. She had wanted him to undress her, to see and praise each delicately fashioned part of her that proclaimed her womanhood. To have him kiss her breasts, her belly, possibly even that trembling, softly juicing little slit that was partly hidden by the long, wavy, baby-fine hair that grew on its lips. Like her young lover had mutely asked when he had dug his tongue between her fingers. So that she, made bold by Sam's actions, might then be brave enough to do what she had yearned for, ever since the law had made a reluctant virgin of her by removing the boy she had known for such a short time.
Here in this room where she had had so little love, where she had known so much hidden bitterness, waiting for the Burke girl to come upstairs, she trembled in the heat of her memories. She had wanted to suck a man's penis! Her husband's, of course. She had tasted-how could she have helped having such curiosity?-the cooling drops of that boy's generous load of semen. While the rest of them were looking back, breathless with mirth and excitement, as they drove away from their Lovers Lane, she had scooped up all she could. It was warm from her body as she got drop after drop on her finger. It was so rich, so thick, so marvelous in its clean, faintly salty taste! A man's seed! Surely, it must be right for a woman to know it, to suck it from a man's throbbing organ.
She never dared bring it up. Sam would have killed her. Anything that was sweet and human and fun was sinful.
Oh, he believed in fucking. For him, at least. She learned that, on that first night. Learned, too, that she had been utterly, pitifully wrong about her lover's cock being big. Sam had the big one. And he was like the boars she had seen on her uncle's farm as a giggling, eye-popping young girl. Fucking into her without a kiss, without a single caress or gesture to prepare her for his sexual onslaught. Not even a finger wiped between her thick, soft, hairy cuntlips, not a squeeze of her breast. Why?
Because such a fol-de-rol was sinful. God had said: Go forth, be fruitful and multiply. That meant that a husband should stick it into his wife and fill her with his seed at every opportunity. Decently in bed, having undressed in the dark, and under the covers. After all, would you want God to see you? Not if He was a God of Punishment, of hellfire and brimstone. Sam's God.
God had said be fruitful and multiply. But he had not said kiss your wife's titties, play with her soft, loving little pussy, slide your warm tongue into her welcoming mouth. No, sirree! Not the God of Sam Cantrell.
In a way, it had been lucky for Elizabeth. She knew she had no maidenhead left. Or she thought not. She had somehow thought she could explain it to Sam, once they were married. A girl was entitled to one minor experience, surely? But she didn't have to. Not with the way Sam had come on. Really like a rutting boar.
He had her on her back with her legs spread before she knew what was happening. Smiling bitterly on this day, months after Sam's death, she remembered the pain of that enormous cock lancing into her. Battering into her. Hurting, tearing.
With that long-lost boy, she had been juicy, soft, shudderingly ready. But Sam's tirade had dried her sluices. Not that he gave a damn. The Lord had said be fruitful and multiply. This was God's work. So Sam and his angry, disagreeable God, one as brutal as the other, had stabbed and slashed into Elizabeth's tender pussy, making her fight and twist and scream until, unbelievably, that enormous cock had swollen to an even greater, even more painful size, and she had known, for the first time, the feel of hot jism shooting off inside her, filling her aching pussy to overflowing.
And it was after that that Elizabeth realized how lucky she was for that torturing thrust, that inhuman battering into her tender and girlish vagina. For the dogmatic, unthinking churchman had immediately thrown the covers off them and turned on the light.
Maybe God wouldn't want to see his children doing that horrible thing known to the ordinary world as "fucking". But in this case, at least, he didn't mind this bridegroom, grown suddenly hateful to his bride, having a close, non-loving look at his bride's cunt.
The girl lay shocked and speechless while the boar-like man completed his inspection. Then he grunted: "It's okay. Get up and wash yourself." And added, as she went painfully toward the bathroom: "Damn lucky you're a virgin or I'd have had you killed."
So she was lucky, after all. Either she had a scrap of virginity left, or Sam's brutality and outsize cock had torn her. She felt his slimy cum-juice running down her thighs. And with it, when she got to the bathroom with its tall mirror, she saw her blood mixed with it. Blood and semen. Just as it had been with her sweet and gentle young lover. Bob Latham. After all these years of forced forgetting, she remembered his name. Bob Latham.
All of this, flashing through her mind in the brief time it took the little Burke girl to come into the house and upstairs. Twenty years, no, more like twenty-five.
She saw the girl in the hall, peering about, uncertain. Shy, looking like a startled creature of the woods, ready to flee. With those sweetly protruding breasts in an old dress grown too small to contain those softly woman-like charms. That firmly rounded rump. Those strong thighs that arched away from her hip's connection with her body. And those gorgeously full-fashioned legs.
Suddenly, Elizabeth felt a violent gust of wrath fill her slender, lovely body. From a memory of something Sam had said. In explaining to her why it was that the women of his church were so subdued, so subservient to their husbands, brothers, and fathers.
"You're property, my dear," Sam had said to her one day when she had dared to ask a question. "Mares and fillies. Clever ones, that can learn to cook and swing a broom and make a dress. But mares and fillies. For their masters to ride."
She was horrified. She had asked the question: "Who do you suppose is the father of little Esther Lavinn's unborn child?" And then, Sam had made it plain that it didn't matter, as long as Esther had never been out of the house. So that the father had to be either her father or one of her brothers.
And then, when she had asked in a horror-stricken voice, why no one in the church denounced it, he had explained the property theory, the mares-and-fillies notion.
And that was the moment when Elizabeth Cantrell, the Widow Cantrell, as she was known in the old-fashioned parlance of this middle-American small town, became interested in the Burke girl.
It suddenly filled her with nausea to think of this tenderly blooming child, so softly and definitely a woman, being brutally and painfully fucked by her hulking father. To think of that gorgeous, generously sculpted body swollen with a child that would be her half-sister as well as her daughter. That would make Linus Burke a grandfather to his bastard daughter.
She forgot that she was naked. She forgot that her purpose had been to show herself briefly, to revel in her newfound freedom. With her eyes blurred by angry tears, she called: "Come to me, my dear! and held out her arms as the girl rushed to them. To her surprise, the girl was shaking, so she said: "Don't be afraid, my dear. What's your name? Rachel, isn't it? Don't cry, Rachel. I won't let anyone hurt you!"
And the child, such a warm, soft armful for a girl so young, clung to Elizabeth's smooth, warmly naked body, and whispered: "I'm not crying, Miz Cantrell. I'm laughing! I never, never, in all my life, saw a naked woman before. You're beautiful!"
It was the nicest thing she could have said to a woman who was already beginning to doubt the good sense of her act. After all, this was Bonville, where things never changed very much. And even if Sam's unexpected death had left her reasonably well off, with money in the bank and more coming in every month from his rental properties, people could still make your life a hell. If some word of your peculiarities got around.
She held the girl to her, conscious of the warmth that came to her through the light fabric of the girl's old dress. So strange to hold this big person as if she were a baby. Rachel was as big as she, Elizabeth, was. But the two of them clung together like sisters, and Rachel Burke, only become a woman six months ago, enjoyed the warm aromas from their two bodies as much as Elizabeth did.
At last they separated, seemingly from a mutual desire. To look at each other. To see if friendship so deeply hoped for might be real. Rachel dropped her eyes and colored faintly through her creamy skin. Like Elizabeth, she was crowned by light-brown hair. But, unlike Elizabeth, whose eyes were a deep blue, Rachel's were brown, a brown so dark they seemed purple, like a pansy. Her voice was low.
"I don't mean I was laughing at you, Miz Cantrell," the child said. "It was just, well, kind of a shock, but a pleasant shock. My father has been saying you were probably up to God knows what kind of sinful things. Mister Sam-Brother Sam, maybe I should say-was a lot like my father. I know you know what I mean. Anyhow, I wanted to come by here to get to know you." She looked away, her sweet, soft lips trembling. When she looked back at Elizabeth, very briefly, there were tears in her eyes. "I hoped you were doing something sinful. I hope you do something sinful every day! Ohhh!" and her young voice rose to a wail, "Ohhhh, I hate that church so goddamned bad!"
She slithered off the bed on which they were sitting and dropped on her knees, burying her face between the older woman's smooth, warm thighs. Elizabeth felt warm tears trickle down the sensitive skin a couple of inches from her pubic hair. She put her hand on Rachel's head. "Don't cry, darling," she begged. "There's nothing and nobody going to get you!"
"But I've said it!" the girl sobbed, her arms encircling Elizabeth's thighs. "I cursed! I took the name of the Lord in vain! And I said I hated the church! Oh, God will strike me dead!"
"Balls!" the naked woman replied stoutly. It was a word she had heard her father use, many times, to express contempt for what someone had said. It surprised her. Her father had been dead for years, but she heard his voice live again. In her voice. She liked it so well that she repeated it. "Balls! People say 'Goddamn' and hate churches all over the world, and nobody's god so much as musters up one little measly old clap of thunder. Let alone a lightning bolt. Besides," and she giggled, "old Sam, my defunct husband, always said the sight of a naked woman made God sick to his stomach. So God's probably turned away from us sinners!"
The very evident spirit of fun in the older woman's voice, as well as the total lack of the expected grown-up's disapproval, made the young girl's heart leap with unexpected feeling. "You are my friend!" she cried, her young face radiant. "I knew it! I felt it when I first looked at you! Oh, praise be! I don't know of anything more blessed than a friend!" She suddenly realized that her laughing face was right at Elizabeth's naked breasts, and she flushed again, dropping her eyes. But when she did this, she saw the silken brown hair in its neat little triangle at the base of her new friend's belly. Covering that terrible thing that was so sinful. But that felt so-o-o-o-o good! Like when she touched it. Or even better, when Tommy touched it. Ever so softly. Poor Tommy!
She arose to her feet, her face still suffused with her warm, rosy young blood. But she did not look away.
"I don't care what father says," she declared firmly. "I came here hoping to see you doing something sinful. Like mama says-behind my father's back, you understand-he and all his church think anything that's fun is sinful." She seemed to stand straighter and her young breasts seemed to swell. "I'm going to say it again. I hate that church!"
Elizabeth felt an odd excitement. To have a new friend was marvelous. But to have a new friend who obviously hated the restrictive rules of a fundamentalist type church, that made it all the more meaningful. But she needed a way to enlarge and develop both the friendship and their common bond.
"Your mother sounds like a, well, unusual sort of woman. To be a member of your dad's church and be brave enough to make fun of it, I mean. It takes a lot of character to be able to make jokes-even behind your father's back-about the church." Elizabeth took the girl's warm hand. "Doesn't it?"
"About sinfulness?" The mature looking child laughed. "Mama says that when men force women to deceive them, they have no right to squawk when it happens. She says it almost becomes an obligation for women to do that." She eyed Elizabeth's body in open admiration, no longer embarrassed. "You sure are pretty and soft, Miz Cantrell. You sure have got a lot of goodies."
Very boldly, suddenly understanding the meaning of the phrase "turned on" which she had heard on television, Elizabeth again cupped her breasts in her hands and squeezed them to a point.
"Thank you, Rachel. But they sure don't do me much good. It's not much fun, squeezing your own titties. My husband didn't know the first thing about, uh, making love." She grimaced. "Some men do. I wish I knew one. But I reckon I'm too old!" Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised at herself, being so willing to talk about sex. "Anyhow, they look pretty skimpy alongside yours."
Rachel flushed, this time with pleasure. "Yeah. Thanks. But they kind of scare me. They make Fa-they make, well-mama says it's not a sin to have 'em, nor to be pleased when every man on Main Street eyes 'em. But she says a line has to be drawn."
The older woman felt a warming in her body. Part love, part hate. That hulking, out-of-work carpenter, Linus Burke, was looking with too much interest at his daughter's gorgeous young body. She knew it. Rachel had been about to say "They make father" when she corrected herself. But she wanted to know more about this girl.
"Your feelings mean more to me than what other people do. Or say or think, for that matter," Elizabeth said firmly. "Let's not fool around. Let's learn all we can about each other. Sit on the bed. Here," patting a place beside her. "Or does it embarrass you to see me like this?" She passed her hands over her breasts, down across her belly, patting the upper part of her cunt hair. The thought struck her: Someone always has to be the leader. I can't expect a twelve-year-old girl to show me the way to freedom!
She stood up and hugged the girl, who came willingly into her arms. They both needed a friend! Her acceptance of leadership made her bold. After all, it was her nakedness that had shattered the wall between them. So she said what came to her mind: "Or maybe you'd feel better if you got naked, too. You hate the church. That might be striking a blow for freedom."
"I hate to undress in front of anyone," the girl said, a catch in her throat. "My underwear's so tacky. My father said nobody's going to see me. But I can't go out for sports at school because I'm ashamed."
Elizabeth's blood boiled. "Those bastards in that church, they're all heart," she said bitingly. "Listen, darling, I'll turn my head and you get undressed. Down the hall, on the left, there's a metal drawer-looking thing. It's a trash chute. Drop your tacky underwear down it. Later on, you and I'll burn it." She turned her head. "Go on, now. Peel it off!"
The girl sobbed. "I have to have underwear," she said. Once more, Elizabeth was choked by hot anger.
"My husband was just as bigoted, just as mean to women, as your father is," she said. "He had a cock, and that's about all I had to pleasure me during his lifetime. But he left me some money, and I'm having fun with it. You wear the same size I do. That drawer right there is full of real cute underwear. Go throw your old stuff down the chute and come back here." Her throat was suddenly a bit constricted, although she didn't know why.
She kept her face turned resolutely away, her ears picking up every small sound of a girl getting out of an old, faded summer dress, kicking off God only knew what kind of abominable underwear. She heard feet and their slight noise in the hall, dying away, then the clang of a metal drawer shutting, and the whisper of returning feet. She turned her eyes to beauty she could hardly believe. And would never forget.
The girl's neck and arms, as well as her legs up to the knee, were a golden tan. The rest of her was pure white, the richly warm, creamy white of whole fresh milk. The young breasts sloped down to bright brown nipples, excited at this display, which thrust out from the ripe fullness that extended out almost without a crease under their smooth weight.
There was a great deal of pubic hair for a girl so young, at least Elizabeth thought so. It had been many years since the hair first sprouted on her own fat little pubis. And almost as long since she had seen another woman so intimately.
Breasts, smoothly rounded belly, flaring thighs and hips that gave a promise of rich, loving warmth-Rachel was beautiful. Best of all, she was no longer shy.
She came to the older woman without hesitation and held her young arms out, so that they held each other, breast to breast, nipple to nipple, cunt to cunt. An unaccustomed heat fired them both, but oddly, neither felt shame or guilt. They were like sisters, but better yet, they were like friends.
"If God can't stomach such a beautiful sight as you, child," Elizabeth said with a tremor in her voice, "then he can't be proud of any of his creations." She kissed the child's face over and over, not in passion, not in inquiry, but in reassurance for them both. Reassurance that they were friends.
"You know something, baby?" Elizabeth asked as they rolled back on the bed, simply enjoying the feel of each other's smooth, firm flesh. "I think our trouble is, we don't even know how to be sinful. If getting naked together is all we can do, it's hardly worthwhile for Gabriel, or whoever does it, to take out his pencil to give us black marks."
Very softly, her young face wreathed in an angelic smile, the girl put her hand on Elizabeth's cunt. She moved it, knowing exactly how a woman's split opens, and breathed hard and deep as her fingers went into the slick, drooling flesh that hides beneath the modesty of hair, the softness of thick outer lips.
Elizabeth hugged her, laughing. "You didn't look at your new underwear," she whispered. "Get up and see it."
Smiling, the young girl went to the drawer and opened it. Her eyes became round, an indrawn breath whistled through her teeth at the soft colors, the lovely fabrics. She picked up some lacy briefs, cut bikini-tiny, bikini-sexy. She held them up to her beautiful young loins, looking in the mirror.
"Oh!" she gasped. "They're so lovely! They'll turn Tommy-" and she bit the word off, a blush spreading over her perfect body. When she turned back to the bed, her face was set in desperate lines, her full underlip quivering. She spoke with difficulty.
"You can tell on me if you want to," she said in a whisper. "But if you tell on Tommy, I'll-I'll-kill myself!"
She seemed dazed as Elizabeth kindly led her back to the bed, and let the older woman pull her down. She pillowed her young head on the older woman's shoulder, pressing the upper part of a breast grown suddenly more sensitive, seeming to Elizabeth to have swelled to a great tenderness, a more appealing size. The girl automatically turned on her side toward the woman, her young breast resting on Elizabeth's ribs. Just as automatic was her affectionate gesture of bringing her leg over the older woman's lower belly and thighs. She made a small sound, a hiccup caused by her just-spent emotion, and nestled against Elizabeth's warmth.
"I know you wouldn't tell," she whispered. "I don't know why I was so scared, all of a sudden. Tommy's-well-he's just my brother. We're both scared. Sex is scary. Isn't it? Anyhow, all we do is, uh, well-we try to help each other."
The older woman, searching so desperately and without guidance for her own freedom, felt her heart leap. On her thigh, she felt a warmth, a wetness, something alive and smooth. Rachel's pussy, pulled open by her position, was plastered against the sensitivity of Elizabeth's flesh.
She gulped. She turned her head and kissed Rachel's forehead.
"Tell me about Tommy," she said huskily. "Tell me all about him. And about you, and how you help each other."
CHAPTER TWO
The Burke place is east of the old highway, a rather rundown old house, although it is well built, snug, and weather tight. Even if it is in the city limits of Bonville, it has a decided country flavor, being in an area that has seen little growth in the past thirty years. There is a great deal of timber in Crosley County, and most homes not actually in the city are buried in the deep woods. That is true of the Burke home.
Rachel hurried along the dirt road toward home. Her body felt more alive than it ever had. Just to know some other person who was angry at man's oppression of woman, yet still didn't hate men, gave her a feeling that life held a great deal of promise.
She was carrying her shoes in her hand, and the soft, feathery dust, hot where the sun struck it, cool in the shade under the overhang of roadside trees, felt comforting to her feet. The luxurious new underwear felt smooth, almost alive, under her dress. Once, she went a little way into the woods, set down her shoes, and took a long look at the pretty panties and the way they seemed to flow over the richly feminine contours of belly, hip, and pubic mound. They were so sheer that she could see each cunt hair.
When she got near her home, she went along quietly. Her dad might be at home. Being out of work, he spent a good bit of time in Bonville, asking around at the lumber yard, the Savings and Loan, the bank, or calling up contractors. There was no toll for calling Benton, the next town south, about twice as large as Bonville, so usually the people at one of his stops would let him call contacts in the larger town. He was well liked. No one outside his church knew how he regarded his wife and daughter. The churchmen, of course, approved.
As a matter-of-fact, most of the males in Bonville, in that church or out, would have agreed. Keep 'em knocked up and barefooted. Most of them, it is true, would have clucked in disapproval if they knew that Burke's brethren were not averse to screwing their daughters. But, if the full truth were told, those men with lovely, nubile female children often cast sexually covetous eyes on their daughters' excessively feminine loveliness. And some, as is the custom everywhere, did more.
The rattletrap old car was gone, so Rachel knew her father was gone. And mom, of course, was in town, working at Sloane's Dress Shop. It wasn't much money, but it kept them eating, kept gasoline in the old car so Linus could go to work, or hunt for it. With his unemployment compensation, they made out very well. Especially since they never spent any money, any real money, on clothes for Tommy or Rachel. Jessica Sloane saw to it that Christine was clothed decently. "For the good of the house," she told her employee.
The girl saw her brother, Tommy, before he saw her. He was under a tree in the back yard. Had his organ out, playing with it, Rachel guessed, and her heart turned over. Poor Tommy! He was such a wonderful brother! And he had so much pressure to haunt him!
She purposely made a noise so that he could get his cock back in his pants if he wanted to. She hated to embarrass him. He was two years older than she, over fourteen, and he had been troubled by sex for more than two years. If it weren't for me to talk to, he'd go crazy, Rachel thought. And then, mindful of the importance of telling the truth, she mentally amended, and I'd go crazy if I didn't have him. Both of them so shy, both of them browbeaten by her father and his overbearing religion.
Her young heart leaped as her brother stood up. He was smiling his joy at seeing her, and his young penis stood out like a knight's lance, its tip swollen and empurpled with his hot blood.
"Rachel!" he cried. "I was so worried about you!"
She came to him and hugged him around his lean waist. He was a head taller than she, almost as tall as her father. But he was so beautiful, so graceful, where so many fourteen-year-olds are awkward and homely and pimple-faced.
"I've got the craziest news for you!" she cried. "You won't believe it! It's simply too much!" She stroked his hard cock with one hand, looking up at him. "I found out a lot of stuff today," she said in her warm voice. "It's not really wrong, what we've been doing. Oh, I know-the church would say so." She looked at him with dancing eyes. "But you know what mom says-anything that's any fun, the church is against it." She was fairly dancing with excitement and fun. And the boy, looking at her with love and confidence, felt his heart swell as he looked at her.
"Tell me the news," he said in a strong, musical voice.
"Not now, not yet," the girl laughed. "Come on over into the woods a little. Get out of sight from the road." She held on to his hard cock, leading him, and he followed, laughing at her.
As soon as they were behind a bush, thick and green with its summer foliage, she let go his cock and said: "Lift up my dress. It's the first surprise!"
When he saw the luxurious fabric and the rich lace on the lovely, bikini-style panties, the tall boy dropped to his knees and held his sister to him, his cheek pressed against the fragrant mound where soft hair covered the shy opening at the top of her sweet young pussy.
"They're beautiful, sis," he said. "But where in the world did you get 'em? And how in the world?" His young face looked a bit worried. "If dad ever sees 'em, good-bye Charlie."
With her soft, strong hands, Rachel pressed his face harder against her crotch. "Silly," she said tenderly. "You know our father says that nakedness is an abomination unto the Lord. You'd never catch him looking at me, undressing."
Tommy leaned back on his heels. "That's where you're wrong," he said sharply. "He looks up every skirt he can, and down into every blouse. Sis," and his voice was solemn, "I hate to tell you this, but I saw him the other night, peeping into your window, trying to see you with your clothes off."
"Forget him," Rachel advised. "That's a creek we can jump when we come to it. He's not going to see me undressed. I turn off my light before I touch a button!" She giggled. "I've got a good notion, though, to let him see it, just once. But I'd have to leave home. He's already got a, uh, sort of lust for me."
"I know," Tommy said moodily. "Damn him! Damn all of them! Hypocritical old farts. Hollering that women are abominations, a bunch of temptresses, and busting their humps to get any girl or women they can! Yeah, even making up rules that make whatever they do okay."
"Forget them, darling," the girl said. She dropped down beside her brother. "I'm glad I got home when I did. I'd hate to have you shoot off without me. Oh, Tommy, let me hold it! It's so hard, so beautiful! Are you almost ready to shoot it?" She felt the heat and the throb, was conscious of the swelling hardness as she held her brother's erection. "Dare I jerk at it a little?"
"Yes. No. I mean, I won't come at the first pull. Let me lie down and point it at you. Let me see your sweet, wonderful little pussy. Can you take off your new panties?" His voice was thick, charged with eagerness and heat. Her hand was so smooth and warm. If it only had juice in it, like a cunt!
He watched her as she deftly removed the panties and held them out to him. He held them to his face, eyes closed, inhaling the crotch perfume that enriched them. "Geez, I wish we weren't kin," he said. "You'll never know how much I'd like to really stick it into you! Ooooh, sis, you feel so good inside!" and he gently inserted one finger into her pulsing depths as she sat, cross legged, unconsciously lifting her beautiful young butt to make it easy for him to get it into her.
"Oh, Tommy," she groaned, working her body up and down on his long finger. "Is it all right if I cum? Give me your hand! QUICK! OHHHH! OHHHH! IT'S CUMMING! OHHHH!"
He felt the slick, strong muscles close on him, and his cock throbbed in response. That marvelous warmth and slickness, that sweet juice bubbling out in the dark of his sister's pussy! How crazy-wonderful it would be to bury his aching cock in there, to feel his nerves go beyond the point of no return, to grit his teeth to hold back his scream of joy as his hot load burned its way up and out of his spurting cock.
The girl leaned down and kissed him. "It's all right to kiss that bad way," she said. "You know, with us sucking each other's tongues. We don't have to be scared to do it. There's a lot we could do that's all right that we've been scared to do."
The boy groaned. His lovely young face was taut with the strain of aching nuts, of a hard-on unappeased. "Don't talk so much, sis," he begged. "Oh, you feel so wonderful inside! Some day, I'm going to get hold of some girl that doesn't give a damn, or won't tell on me, and suck all that juice out of her! Ohh, baby! Just give it a real gentle stroke up and down!" He rolled his lean hips from side to side in ecstasy as his sister gently pulled the loose skin on his dick down to his bush of pubic hair, then brought it back so that it covered the shiny head, which she squeezed for a second.
"I wish you'd forget your conscience and do it to me," she said fiercely, her cunt again beginning to pour hot juice down the boy's working knuckles. "Oh, Tommy, darling! I'm going to cum again! Oh, it feels so hot! I'm bursting! Oh, baby! Your peter! It's so lovely! OHHH! OH, TOMMY! OH, BROTHER! OH-OH-OH-OH! OHHHH!"
The swelling and bursting heat and itch in her birth canal, the good feel as her youthful inner muscles slid up and down on Tommy's finger, caused her to increase the tempo of her hand on his cock. Also her pressure. She was looking at his prick with wide eyes, thinking it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, wishing she could open her mouth and go down on it, catching the sharp spurts of sweet, slick cum-juice as they flared out of it.
They were like one person. If they had been linked by the cock-and-cunt tether which makes man and woman as one, they could not have been much closer. The electricity of her pleasure ran from her inner cuntal nerves right through his fingers. He could feel the slippery strength of muscle, the flowing heat of her juice. His thumb pressed into the softly curled hair above her slit, his other fingers, his palm, knew the soft strength of her ass and buttocks and thighs. After they were done, they would lie pressed together, his wet and limbering prick against the whiteness and softness of his sister's belly. And he would lick every drop of this fragrant juice from his fingers.
He was in that marvelous dream world where reality is better than any dream. His balls were renewing themselves at the same time they were so fiercely emptying themselves. His cock was aching gloriously in throbbing hurts of richly beautiful pain, and the juice was flying into the air. But it wasn't falling on him! It wasn't hitting him in the face! Where was Rachel aiming it? He opened his eyes and closed them quickly. This was terrible! It was wonderful, but it was terrible, too! She was aiming it right at herself!
She had her dress pulled so high that her lovely titties showed. He was shooting his jism against them, against her belly, some of it even striking right at the entrance to her pussy! It was so beautiful that it seemed to make him cum longer, to cum more. But he was scared to death, so scared he dared not look.
When Rachel at last released her soft, tender grip on him, he opened one eye. His hand was no longer under her. Somehow, somewhere along the rich, unbelievable journey the two had taken, it had slipped out. He raised his hand to his lips, to his nose, to enjoy both the aroma and the delightful taste of female juice. But in a daze, he saw that Rachel, her face intent and happy, was using her finger to pick up every drop of his jism that she could reach.
He closed his eyes, his mind and heart a battlefield of old fears and new desires. I always suck up her cum-juice, he thought. I'm always wishing I had a girl I could really suck. Why can't sis have the same rights? The thought made him feel better, closer to her. If this was sin, and everything he had been taught made it deeply sinful, he could not help it. He was only a kid, but he knew that his urges were common to all men, and therefore natural. But masturbation was a sin, too. And this, whatever you called it, was just one hell of a lot more fun.
"Tommy, you saw what I was doing," Rachel said softly. "Don't be mad at me. It's not wrong to like that, uh, stuff. It's part of love, part of our love for each other. Don't you see that?"
He made a face of pain and resignation. "I guess, in a way, everything we do is wrong," he said. "But I just won't say that I'm sorry. You've been so good to me!"
He rolled against her and she went over on her back, her beautiful young legs flying up and apart. Without either of them intending it, his face was on her warm, smooth belly, his chin feeling the soft little curls of her cunt hair, his nostrils distended as he savored the lovely, rich smell of her young pussy.
"Other guys my age do these things all the time," he muttered, his lips on her soft skin. "With lots of girls. But I'm too scared even to open my mouth to them. To the girls, I mean."
His sister, tingling all over, the insides of her thighs warmed by the bulk and pressures of his body, put her hands on his head. If only he would move just a few inches and suck her down there! And if only he would let her take his penis in her mouth! How sweet it would be to hold that softness-over-hardness with her lips and tongue and cheeks, to press it against the roof of her mouth, to suck that thick, slick juice up out of his balls, to swallow his rich seed! But she knew he would never allow it.
"I'm glad I was here to help you, Tommy," she whispered, her hands unconsciously pushing his head lower, moving her body so that her warm, wet pussy got closer to his mouth. "And I'm glad you've been here to help me. We're both such cowardy-cats! It's so awful to have these feelings and be in the dark about what to do." She shivered. "Yes. In the dark. That's all we ever have been, or done. Father thinks that everything has to be done in the dark. Oh, Tommy!" and there was real pain in her voice, "we just have to find our way out! And I think I've found it!"
She suddenly humped her soft belly up, and raised her legs. It was perfect timing. His face slipped just enough, and her soft young cuntlips, opened by her position, legs in the air, ass pointing straight up, plastered themselves over his mouth. In spite of himself, he gave one mighty, sloppy, sucking kiss that sent her cuntal feelings soaring, but then he sat up, his face stern.
"You shouldn't have done that, Rachel," he said, but he ran his tongue around his lips to gather in all her sweet cunt dew. "We promised, remember? We'd only do what, well, what we've been used to doing." He dropped his eyes and blushed. "With our hands."
She was on her knees beside him, her loose old dress falling to cover her. She held his head against the softness of her breasts, and their warmth came to him through the thin old fabric. His hand moved under her, touching the wet and slippery surfaces of her inner lips. His young cock, so recently drained of its imperatively pressurized load of jism, fluttered with a returning itch of life.
The warmth in his dick pushed back some of the chill of conscience. "You're so good," he whispered. "I'll always love you."
She helped him put his cock back in his worn and faded Levi's, brushing it with her cheek. "I wish you'd let me kiss him," she said huskily. "I know you'd let another girl do it, if she asked you real nice, pretty please, with sugar on it." Her eyes were bright with mischief, and her brother laughed.
"You get me a girl, a real nice girl, who's willing to go all the way with me," he said, raising his hand in the Boy Scout salute, "and maybe I'll let you do that little thing."
She hugged him with pure rapture. "Oh, Tommy, that's my other surprise for you! My biggest surprise! I've got a lady-not just some little old snip of a girl, a grown up lady-who wants to help you just as bad as I do! And who needs you as bad as you need her! And never, never, never any chance of trouble!"
CHAPTER THREE
Only once before in her life had Elizabeth Cantrell felt such a surging rush of life in her body, so much joy at being a woman, so much fear that it might all be a cruel punishment.
She could still feel the warmth of the young girl's beautiful body, the response of her own skin as it seemed to grow, almost, into the girl's smooth flesh.
It was a puzzling thing. The child had come to her, she had said, out of curiosity to "see something sinful." Elizabeth believed that Linus Burke might very well have accused her, or suspected her, of doing God only knew what. But, having lived for more than twenty years with Sam Cantrell, Elizabeth knew that any male of that peculiarly cruel church would suspect any woman of the same kind of thing. Their faith taught them that men were kings and women were thenchattels. It was right and just, even a biblical injunction, that they stick their dongs into the tender vaginas of girls and women. But it was sinful for women to do it.
No, that couldn't be right. Or could it?
Elizabeth laughed, looked at her warmly pink body in her mirror, and patted her belly, letting her hand slip down to the soft, silky, light-brown curls that pointed like an arrowhead of hair down to the warm, slickly oiled split at the botton of her body.
"You sweet thing," she said softly, letting one finger glide delicately into the humid cleft where her clitoris was quivering.
She thought swiftly, with an unexpected pang of delight in her pussy, of how sweet and soft and juicy the young girl had been. "And we really didn't do anything all that wrong," she murmured, pinching her nipples until they grew and hardened, glowing with life, with warm blood speeding to them through the delicate blue veins showing through the translucent skin of her swollen breasts. How good it was to feel her soft little hands between my thighs! But I don't think she came all the way here, a shy child like that walking into my home so boldly, just to ask-or see-what 'sinfulness' I might be up to."
There was, of course, the brother. At the thought of what Rachel had told her, she groaned and shuddered, her body glowing as she thought of brother and sister-brother and sister!-being so deep into sex with one another.
"We help each other, that's all," Rachel had declared. "Can't you see? We're scared to death. We can't talk to other people. I can't talk to the girls at school. Tommy can't talk to the boys. I hear," the girl said wistfully, "some girls can talk to their mothers about-well-about their bodies. About sex. Oh, Miz Cantrell, how I wish you were my mother! I could ask you anything!" And the warm child, so soft and appealing, had clung to Elizabeth as a drowning woman clings to a straw.
I know less than you do, child, the woman thought wryly. I never had a brother to help. Or to help me.
She had said, her voice thick with repressed desire, "I wish I had someone like your brother! Someone who needs 'help', as you call it, with his sex problems. But I know it wouldn't work. No way. I'm getting to be an old woman!"
That was when the girl had really kissed her. On the mouth. With the same probing warmth and slickness of tongue that that boy, so many years ago, had taught her. And had responded like a woman throwing herself at love. Scaring the little girl, probably.
"Where did you ever learn to kiss like that, child?" the woman had asked, her very guts in a twisting cramp of love and need from the animal wantonness of it. Thinking of it now, and how deeply it had burned into her, she felt a sharp throb of minor orgasm in her genitals. She knew that women-perfectly normal women, whatever that might mean-made love to each other. Sam had been an oaf. But he had also been a hypocrite. He had shrunk from any honest exploration into sex. But he had secretly purchased and stored any number of "marriage manuals" and supposedly serious treatises on sex which had given the most explicit details of all the ways, straight and kinky, in which humans might enjoy the great gift of sex.
If it truly was a gift of God. Elizabeth mused on it, the soft finger again seeking her throbbing little bud of passion.
What a terrible fool poor Sam had been. "I would have done everything for him that these ladies do," she said aloud, holding one of the secret books in her other hand, letting the leaves drift apart to show the brightly full-colored reproductions of man and woman in so many, many curious and provocative positions.
Here was one where the lady was on her back, fingering her pussy, while her friend, on hands and knees above her, stuck his penis into her mouth. The lady's cheeks were sunk in, proving that she was well and truly sucking the man. "Sucking him off," she said aloud. An old phrase, one she had known all her life.
I know all those words, she said to herself, and repeated them in the silence of her mind: cunt, cock, fuck, balls, prick, pussy, cocksucker. Where had she heard that last one? At school? Very likely. There has been a great deal of frankness, of explicitness, among the girls at school. She remembered who she had first heard say it. Willie May Cunningham. Talking about Theresa Jones.
"My guy heard that old Willie May is the best cocksucker in Crosley County." The older girl, aware of her audience, had looked around with studied nonchalance and then dropped her bomb. "But he says he don't believe it-he said I'm the greatest. That if I was to want to, I could move to Crosley and get ten bucks a crack for the kind of blow job I give him for free!"
It had been so thrilling, hearing so much about sex. "But I didn't learn as much as I wish I had," Elizabeth whispered to herself, lying smoothly, warmly naked, on her big, soft bed. "Damn Sam, anyhow! With all those books, with all that buried interest in fucking," and she shivered with an odd pleasure as she deliberately used that wonderful word. "Why couldn't he do those things to me?"
Another picture showed suddenly, as a leaf in the book moved. It gave her a pang in an odd place. The gentleman was fucking the lady in her asshole! Buggering her! And the book very seriously and carefully explained that the interior of the rectum was acrawl with erotic nerves, a hole every bit as responsive as that other, slicker, droolier hole above it.
"Oooooh, sweet Jesus!" Elizabeth groaned, and pressed her thighs together very hard, trying to smother that trickle of fire which seemed to crawl inside her thick, warm outer cuntlips. To have someone stick it in her butt! To feel what must be a most painful stretch. She had never, ever thought of it until now.
When she and that dear, sweet, wonderful young lover of hers were so wild, that time in the car, he had blindly struck into her gladly opened body, hitting a place that hurt but felt marvelous, before he shoved again and hit the right place. Had it been in her rectum? It may have been, for a split second. The next day, that awful day when he was dragged away, she had felt hurtingly wonderful all over, down there between her legs, between her rounded buttocks. But she had never really thought it out until today. Looking at Sam's books hadn't been much fun. Until today.
And all on account of that delightful girl.
She moved her finger and another picture showed. Two lovely photos, facing each other.
In one of them, the same couple were doing something else. The lady was still on her back, with her feet drawn back and her knees dropped apart until her crotch was stretched open. The man, bless him for his humanity and courage, was licking in it, his long tongue brazenly caressing the swollen vulva, the blood-swollen inner labia. And the woman-oh, God! How sweet! She once more had the man's penis in her mouth, but he seemed to have buried in her throat so deep that, to judge by the length proven by previous pictures, his cock must have been deep in the lady's throat.
"I would have done that for you, Sam," Elizabeth whispered. "If only you had been a little kinder."
She remembered how her soft, tender inner parts had been torn by Sam's savaging prick. "Lucky for you," Sam had said, when he had seen her bright blood and his grayish-white semen flowing down from her bruised pussy. "If you hadn't been a virgin, I'd have killed you." And even then, hurt and frightened as she had been, she had triumphantly thought: A lot you know, you dumb old fool! And at that time, she would not have licked a drop of his sperm from her finger if she had been starving, and his cum was the only protein left in the whole wide world.
But there had been times, later, when she had almost been able to love him. Even if his bed manners still remained those of a rutting boar-pig. Nothing could have removed her natural heat, short of killing her. And she learned how to be certain that Sam was awake, building himself up for a fuck. By his breathing, by his fidgety movements.
When she was sure, she would mumble an "excuse me," and go to the bathroom as if she had to piss. There, from a jar of cold cream, she would take a dollop and grease all along her slick channel, and on either side of her hole. She would also caress her clit a little. By that time, she would be on the verge of a good orgasm. Thus, when Sam turned and got between her legs, his big old cock hard as a hoe handle, she would twist and squirm, crying: "Oh, please! Don't hurt me!" and by so doing, would manage to touch his hard dick, even guiding it into her ready pussy.
She loved it this way. He would have thrown her out of the house, crying "Harlot!" if she had asked to hold his old prick, to "put it in" as she would have said. This was even better, in a way, although she did want to handle it. To look at it. To be honest, she had always had a deep desire to suck it. To feel that spurting power, that heat. To taste that thick, rich, salty juice. As she lay panting now, her cunt on fire with memories of the past and memories of this afternoon, she could almost feel that big organ, hard as iron, crowding into her. Stretching her clear to the mouth of her womb, banging into that hardy, smooth piece of muscular tissues. And, as his brutal fucking, which by this time she wanted deeply, bruised and rasped and frictionized the itching, responsive surfaces of all her cuntal areas, she would cum and cum, feeling free to scream bloody murder, since her husband would think he was hurting her, and would be tickled to death.
She shook herself. She had been lost in this sensual reverie so deeply that her two fingers had moved from her clit to her vaginal aperture, as far inside her as she could thrust them, and her inner cunt nerves were tingling. "I must have cum," she muttered, grinning.
She got up and walked near the mirror. Under the soft, light-brown hair that had tinges of red-gold in a good light, she saw how warm she had become, how the lips of her pussy bulged out. Just like that child's. After their kiss. They had kissed again like that, and she had thought of how it might feel to have that little girl's tongue going as deep and as hard into her vagina as it had gone into her throat. And, in that female symbolism of intercourse, she had seen herself doing the same juicy, hot favor for Rachel.
Some thread of ESP had sewn them together, had darkly informed each mind and body of the other's desire. It must have been so. They had gotten their legs locked together, their bellies locked and glued together, so that their redly quivering inner lips had met and clung. "It was like fire," Elizabeth breathed, holding her outer lips open and looking at the wetly shining pink flesh in the mirror. "Ohhhh! So wonderful!"
Like wild animals, they had pumped and rubbed. I never would have believed a woman could relieve another woman that way, Elizabeth said in her mind. You don't have to have a man's thing inside you! Involuntarily, she pumped her loins toward her image in the glass. "By Godfrey, I really did get hot," she chuckled. "I am hot!"
She went back to the bed to pick up the book, and found her place. Where the man was so happily pushing his tongue into the lady's warm cunt, which showed the slick, red-veined labia so plainly in the photo. That was a lovely picture, but it was the other one she wanted to see. The one of the two ladies. So young, so beautiful, so eager.
And they were sucking each other! The lovely bottom which was turned her way was spread side open. It had to be-the lady had to have her knees far apart so that her pussy wouldn't be too difficult for the bottom lady to reach. With her tongue. "Oh, my God!" Elizabeth groaned, stabbing her cum-slicked fingers back into her flowing cunt. "It's so beautiful! I wonder if it's wrong?"
But after all, she reminded herself, she and Rachel had only looked and touched and hugged and talked.
Damn it! That brought the strange question back again. Why? Why had that sweet, warm, marvelously sexual young person come to see her? What had happened? She had only been feeling free, trying to feel more free. Going around in an empty house naked, because Sam would have hated it. And feeling prankish, she had called the young girl to come up.
"Maybe she forgot to tell me what she really wanted," the woman said into the echoing lonesomeness of her room. It was so strange, on this day when so many strange things seemed to be happening. Her sudden urge to go naked, to feel her own breasts, to dwell on the sensual aspects of her past.
Oh, sure, she had always been a person of intense sensuality. She knew that, now. Sam had been imperfect, he had been impossible, but the mere fact that he had had a cock made him, somehow, someone of value to her life. "Maybe, in some ways, I loved him," the softly formed, warm blooded woman whispered.
And her heart cried out: Oh, Sam, you old villain! Why couldn't you have been good to me? Why couldn't I have had the freedom to use my body? The way God intended. To fuck and fuck and fuck until I was weak and sick and gloriously fucked out!
But even for someone like herself, bursting with the need for sex, chained by half a lifetime of shyness and fears, it was just too much to have such a child appear, out of nowhere rational, out of no dream that Elizabeth felt she had. But the book, that lovely book with the clear, colorful, beautiful photographs, the book said that women could love each other that way if they liked.
She had known the taste of her own pussy, all of it, the sharply dairy-like gatherings from high up on the inner portions of it, around her clit, the lightly flavored clear juice from far up inside her. Any woman has to know that. And she knew that Rachel would be the same. As they had touched, they had also tasted and smelled. Without lip-to-cunt contact. And without sneaking. Elizabeth, after she had first placed the side of her palm between that child's soft, lovingly wet cuntlips, had looked openly at Rachel and smilingly licked off the rich, clear pussy juice. And then they had kissed again, deeply, and young Rachel's eyes were bright with interest as she tasted her body fluids, so freely flowing in the arms of this marvelous new friend.
Elizabeth stretched luxuriously on the bed. Her head was buzzing from what she had thought, from what she and Rachel had done, for what the future promised. The picture in the book made her wish that either she or the girl had been less timid. To have sucked that young girl's fuck-hole, to have had her own sucked, might have been heaven. To remember what had happened long ago, between herself and that long-lost lover, even between her and Sam, had given her a sense of loss. Not the loss of the two men. One was lost far too long ago. The other, Sam-what could she say? That, as he was, he was no loss.
She wondered what time it was. Rachel had promised her something wonderful. She had promised Elizabeth her brother, Tommy.
When the woman had begged so warmly: "Tell me about Tommy. Tell me all about him. And about how you two help each other," the girl had turned and kissed her new friend passionately.
"Oh!" the girl cried, "You'll love him! And he needs you! He needs you so much!"
Words tumbled from her as she poured out the story of the affectionate understanding between them. She was up on an elbow, her lovely, firm young breasts nodding with each of her gestures, her eyes sparkling. "We don't have anyone to talk to!" That was her theme, told again and again. Not in extenuation. Not as a defense. To Rachel, nothing could have been more natural than to give Tommy whatever she had that he wanted. Even, and she made this very plain, to give him every freedom of her young, sweetly ready cunt. "But he won't let me do that for him," she had said, her eyes lowered.
"But he's going crazy for someone to really do those things with him," the warm-fleshed, full-blown child had said honestly. "And when you said you needed a man, or wanted a man, or whatever it was you said, right away I knew that Tommy was for you!" She fell on the lovely woman's soft breasts and kissed her rapturously. "If he's at home, I'll send him up here this afternoon!"
So she came back, Elizabeth Cantrell, forty-two years old, well-to-do if not rich, yearning for love she had never known, to the strange riddle of why the beautiful girl had appeared. And this might be as good a reason as any.
That she wanted to find someone to help her brother in a way he needed so deeply, and refused from his sister.
Yes, indeed. That may have been the reason.
She did not stop to think that there may be a very special invisible bond between very special people. That she and Rachel shared a gift, the gift of an understanding too complete for ordinary explanation. She did not think of the very powerful fact that people who need love very, very much, and who deeply need to give the very sort of love they dream of, may have a way of finding each other.
Why should she think of it? She had an explanation.
Once again, she thought she heard steps on her brick walk, and ran to the window. But no one was there.
CHAPTER FOUR
In spite of the brightness of the sun, it was almost dark, almost cool, in the deep shadows where Tommy had run, after his sister told him who "the lady" was. He was looking as wild-eyed as freshly branded bull calf, and his breathing was fast and hard.
"Miz Rich-Bitch Cantrell?" he cried. His voice was harsh. "You must be out of your mind! Or dreaming!"
He took her by the arm and shook her, frowning. Then he began to laugh. "If I didn't know you so well-" he began, but Rachel jerked her arm away and glared at him.
"You're just like every other pig of a man that ever lived!" she cried. "You think you're so great, and then, when you hear that someone else wants you, someone sweet and wonderful, you back up and run! You think you're not good enough for a lady like Miz Cantrell? She doesn't think so! You think I'm lying? I never did lie to you before, did I?" She was shivering in quick anger.
Tommy reached out a hand to her. "I'm sorry, sis," he said softly. "I know you don't lie. But it's so crazy! I barely know her to speak to! Now, how in the name of God can I walk into her house and say: 'I've come to fuck, Miz Cantrell!' That's crazy!"
"If we had a phone, I'd phone her and let you listen. But I want you to go. I don't care what you say to her. It won't make any difference, I tell you! No matter what you say, it'll turn out the same way! You just can't believe how brave she is, and how good! And she's just like you and me, in lots of ways! Honest!"
"Yeah, sure," her brother jibed. "We've got Easter Creek to swim in, she's got a swimming pool. We've got all these woods, she's got Chinese elms and Scotch pines and a hedge of lilacs. Anyhow, she's older'n our mother."
Rachel thought of the sweetness, the softly rounded firmness of that wonderful woman's body, the achingly swollen breasts with the hard, deeply grained brown nipples, reddened by their excitement. Vd like to kick his ass, she thought. But instead, she took him by the hand.
"Come on," she said. "It's still early. Dad must be in town. Or down to Benton. And mom always works a little later on days like this. All I want is for you to take me by Miz Cantrell's so you'll see that we're friends and that I'm not lying."
"And no more than that?" Tommy asked. "I don't want you getting me into any kind of trouble. Okay, come on. Dad's in Benton, all right. Said he wouldn't be back until late. And mom sent word by a kid from the store that she was working until ten o'clock."
It was really wonderful fun, riding behind Tommy on his bike. There isn't much uphill or downhill in that part of the world, and the track along the dirt road is firm. In spite of the heat of the sun, Tommy was barely perspiring when they reached their goal.
And Elizabeth, looking down from her bedroom, seeing the lean strength and beauty of the boy, felt her knees turn to water, felt her guts squirm in a wild confusion of desires and fears. It was no longer a gay and adventurous idea. It was real. And the sudden flare of warmth between her legs gave her the strength and courage for whatever had to be done.
It took her perhaps ten seconds to snatch a soft, light dress from her closet, and another ten to wriggle into it. She smoothed it over her hips and belly as she walked downstairs. It wouldn't do to frighten or offend this boy, this man of only fourteen years, by flinging herself in his face. Therefore, she had not waved at the two from her window, or showed her flesh through the lace curtains. The dress, ah, that was different. It was made to show, not the surface of the flesh, but the honest, inflammatory contours of depressions and other delights of a woman's body.
Like her breasts and their thrusting nipples. Like the soft roundness of her belly, and the way the fabric followed as its lower part curved under, between her thighs.
She waved when she was on the porch, and called: "Hi, Rachel! It's so nice to see you! Is that your brother? Hi, Tommy! Thank you for coming by!" She walked to the porch rail and smiled. "Come on in out of that sun before it strikes you dead!" she called in her sweet, warm voice. "Even if it's only for a minute."
She saw the boy's lips move as he said something to his sister, and then saw her grin. So it was all right, so far. Rachel had said: "Don't worry. I told you he's shy, as shy as I am. But there's, oh, I don't know how to explain it, there's something so good about you! So nice, so natural! He's bound to feel it!"
Elizabeth had squeezed one of Rachel's lovely breasts, then, and answered: "He can't feel it too soon or too often to suit me!"
And Rachel had hugged her and said: "There! That's exactly what I mean! You're so human, so sweet! Oh, lucky Tommy!"
The boy shifted his grip on the handlebars, and for the space of a few breaths Elizabeth was numb with fear that he was going. He was so much like that marvelous boy she had loved and lost. Much younger, but so much the same. All that she would have given that boy, all that she would have wanted from him, she would give and get from Tommy. She breathed easier as the tall boy turned his bicycle up her path.
"Put it in the shade, Tommy," she said breathlessly. "Then the seat won't burn your, uh, well," and she laughed softly, "it won't burn you anywhere!" Her face was flushed, and the boy, looking at her, was suddenly struck by his sister's wisdom. She really is like us-just a nice lady, his young mind registered. He felt a lot better and showed it with a grin.
"I don't know about you two," the woman said as she turned toward the porch once Tom's bike was parked in the shade, "but in this kind of weather, I like lemonade, and lots of it! Come on in, unless you just have to go some place. Okay? Fine!"
They followed her into the house, down the wide hall which caught whatever breeze was stirring. In the big, bright, old-fashioned kitchen, they drank lemonade while Tom looked all around, until Elizabeth, after looking at Rachel and getting a nod toward the stairs, said: "Why don't we take the pitcher and go upstairs? We can be more comfortable, and maybe we'll find something interesting to show Tommy." She gave the boy a level look and said: "Your sister's already seen it."
She hugged Rachel, the two of them smiling at each other like old lovers, and boldly, right before the boy's astonished eyes, she moved her hand up and took a firm hold on one of Rachel's breasts, squeezing it out to a point. Just as quickly, she let it go, took Tommy's chin in her hand, and kissed him quickly on his cheek. And she spoke honestly and clearly: "I think this is maybe the luckiest day of my life." She was looking right at the boy. "I've found one truly wonderful friend in your sister. And if you'll be my friend, it'll be twice as nice!"
She walked to the stairs and turned, her heart thudding in delight as she saw the boy holding his sister, both smiling, and knew that what she had done was right and good for all of them.
Upstairs, Elizabeth kicked off her sandals and rolled on to the big bed, pulling a pillow up against the headboard, leaning back against it with her knees drawn up. She saw that Tommy's gaze was riveted on the shadowed valley between her thighs, and she let her knees drop wider. If he was too skittish, he could look away. She knew that her pussy, at least the display part, was clearly visible under her light dress in this sunlit room. But she looked at Rachel.
"Darling," she said, "do you want to climb up on the bed with us? Tommy," she said, and patted the bed near her feet, "this is the most comfortable place to sit. And Rachel can either get up by me or sit in the slipper chair."
She was so happy, so pleased with what life had brought her, that her goodness warmed her voice. Tommy felt a strange realization. He had never seen her until ten minutes ago, and now he felt as close to her as he did to anyone. To Rachel. To his mother. And all the time, not a foot from where his hand was braced on the luxurious bed, was that warm, sweet, fat-lipped pussy.
The trip here on his bike had been fun. It was always sweet and exciting to have his baby sister behind him, her strong arms around his strong body, her soft breasts pressing on his back. And to make it even more fun, she had a sneaky, laughing way of rubbing her hand down in his crotch. Damn, you can't even get to a guy's prick when you're riding double on a bicycle! But Rachel, knowing that as well as he did, found it fun to try.
He had asked her, as his strong legs pumped along: "Suppose I do go into Miz Cantrell's house? What do I do?" He had goose bumps, just thinking of another warm pussy. "How in hell would a guy like me start something with a fancy grown-up, like her?"
He had felt Rachel's cheek against his back, heard her laugh.
"If it's like it was with me," she said, "you won't have to start anything. And she won't start it. At least I don't think so. It just gets started, that's all."
And now, only a boy of fourteen, inexperienced and shy, he knew what Rachel had meant. No one had said anything out of line. Miz Cantrell's pussy had been there to look at. Or to ignore. No invitation to do what he was about to do. Because he knew that now, right this minute, in spite of everything he had been taught, he was going to put his hand right between those smooth, clean, warm thighs and fumble his fingers into the slippery sweetness of this strange, beautiful lady's cunt.
And in that second, Elizabeth's clear, sweet voice said: "Go on, Tommy, please. Please do what you were thinking!"
Studying it in his mind later, he wondered why he had not cried out in surprise. It was so much like some sort of witchcraft, his desire and decision to stick his fingers right into that wet, slick warmth coming on so strong, and then that marvelous woman knowing exactly what he was thinking. And telling him-no, urging him-to go ahead and do it.
Without even a glance at his sister, who sat with her pretty head on one side, just faintly puzzled, and without haste, he half turned and reached between those warm thighs.
It was marvelous. With Rachel, it was always rough-and-tumble play, as much as anything else. With both knowing exactly what was to happen. And what wasn't going to happen. But this warmth of soft, smooth flesh was new, and there were no limits to where he might go. No limits at all. And he felt no fear, no shame, no shyness.
He looked at the lovely woman lying there so still, her face in such a warm, encouraging smile, and he said: "You'll have to help me, Miz Cantrell. I'm afraid I don't really know what to do!" And as Elizabeth held out her arms to him, he shifted his hips and met her, mouth to mouth, feeling the same sweet glory, the same swelling heat, as he did with his sister. And yet it was somehow hotter, sweeter, more exotic. She was a woman, not a girl. Her legs were warmer, although he knew this was because almost always, when he had his hand between his sister's legs, they were outdoors, so her skin would naturally be cooler.
They were kissing, and he had his hand in the hair on her soft flesh, his fingers instinctively burrowing down into the hot, moist crevice where Rachel's little blossom of wild heat was buried.
She had come open further, somehow, so that his hand was in all of her cunt as he felt lower to get into her fuck-hole. Oh, God! This was really it! He was going to fuck! He was going to hold apart these sweet, thick rolls of soft flesh, so wildly exciting with their covering of cunt hair, the badge of maturity, and then his cock was going to sink into that slippery pudding of flesh and juice. As he had dreamed of for over two years. As he had thought of doing with Rachel, tortured by fear and need pulling him in opposite directions. His fingers moved slickly in that flowing darkness, where muscles softer than Rachel's, but busier, chewed toothlessly on his knuckles.
As he thought of what he must do next, of how he must get his jeans open so that his hard prick could fly out, Elizabeth broke off their kiss. Her dress had slipped back down her thighs. Her beautiful body was exposed almost to her waist, and she was holding him very gently, her hands on his waist, as she smiled up at him. And at that instant, two smooth arms that he knew so well came around his waist and unfastened his belt.
Rachel!
He had forgotten her, and by all rights, he should have been made more shy. But he laughed, a deep-throated, lusty laugh, as a man should. And he stood while his sister slid the soft, clean old jeans down his legs, along with his shorts, so that all of his hard, lovely young cock stood out.
I don't dare tell him I know less than he does, Elizabeth's mind flashed. And Rachel said in a low voice: "I don't think it matters at all, Miz Cantrell. You'll do all right. And so will Tommy!"
The boy knew that something amazing was happening, something that had to do with the mystic properties of the mind. This lady had known what he was thinking. His sister seemed to know what Miz Cantrell had thought, whatever it was. It didn't worry him at all, it just made him feel better than ever. To have both of them, his sister, who had seen his cock and handled it so many times, and this grown-up lady, whom he suddenly loved, holding on to his dick. He could just feel his balls swell and tighten, and he was glad that Rachel had stroked out the top of his load. Otherwise, he probably would have shot it before he could get into that live and smoothly twisting pussy.
"Would you like to take my dress off, Tommy?" the fine lady asked him. "And how about Rachel? Wouldn't it be lovely if all of us were together, here on the bed together? Rubbing our warm, naked bodies together?" She shivered with excitement. "Oh!" she cried, "I'd better be careful! I'm so hot! So hot! I'll begin to cum if someone so much as blows a breath on my pussy!"
It was absolutely beautiful to all of them So easy, so, well, comfortable. Rachel was out of her dress, laughing, and as Elizabeth stroked across the girl's soft mound, across the underwear she was so glad to have given the girl, she felt movement between her thighs and looked down, startled, to find Tommy's head there. Right on her cunt! And she felt a breath, a warm tickle, and the boy arose, laughing. "I blew a breath on it, and it didn't make you cum," he said. He was all gaiety, all shyness gone, and he turned to hold his little sister, so warm and bare, her skin so delightfully female against his hard young body.
He turned back to the bed, and Elizabeth looked at him, a little tense, now that she knew her cunt would be stretched, soothed, made more loving and lovable by male flesh going into it. Her voice was clear and sure, no matter how her heart thundered.
"Let me hold it for a minute," she said, looking into the boy's clear eyes. "Get over me, on your hands and knees. There, that's it! See, with your knees between my legs, and with me holding your pretty cock, you could just slip it into me."
But the young girl, who may have been the most courageous of the three, gasped out: "No!" put both her hands between the two who looked so ready to fuck. "Let me!" she begged, looking around at Elizabeth pleadingly. "Let me hold the sweet, soft, wet lips open! Oh, God!" she cried, as she used her fingers to get the thick flaps back, so that she alone of all of them, could see the tiny red veins tracing their hot pattern on the shiny-pink flesh, could see the sweet, clear pussy juice oozing out of the warmly moving cunt hole. "It looks so beautiful!"
She pushed her head quickly under Tommy's hard young belly and caught his cockhead in her mouth. She gave it a quick hard suck and he, carried away by the dream-like licentiousness of it all, fucked into her head, feeling the warmth and slickness of his sister's mouth, knowing he would never again refuse her the joy of sucking him off.
There was such a fire of love raging in Rachel's heart and body that she was sobbing, knowing she would probably start to cum as soon as she saw her brother's dick go into that tight and grasping vagina which her hand had found so sweet. She held her hands so that her thumbs would touch the male penis when it went in, and whispered: "Now, Tommy my dear! Now! Go into her!"
And she was deeply moved as she saw it go in, the dark, shiny head going out of sight, the spear of flesh follow it, and then to feel the sinuous, strong heave and shudder of Elizabeth's flanks as her beautiful ass came up off the sheets to meet the cock.
She could smell the thick, warm perfume of lust, of a very hot cunt opening and flowering out as her brother's dick went in.
She could hear Elizabeth's voice, not in words but in a husky moan: "Aaannnhhh! Aaannnhhh!" and then a word or two that were clear and definite: "Fuck me, fuck me! Ohhhh! OHHHHHH! IT'S SO GOOD! OH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"
And each word was accompanied by a strong heave that rammed her body up. so that Tommy coming down, was getting his dick into the warm, lovely widow so hard that their bodies plopped together like gigantic handclaps.
The girl was lying on her side, now that the Widow Cantrell had her beautiful legs wrapped over Tommy's lean body. They were both grunting like hogs rutting, and the girl, her face only a few inches from the split into which Tommy was fucking so hard, saw his column turned dark red from his heat, saw it go in and come out, making a regular, warm, sloshy sound.
In her joy at the sight, she began to frig herself with her finger, reaching deep into her slippery young cunt with two fingers, stretching it as she imagined Elizabeth was getting stretched with that beautiful cock she had jerked on so many, many times.
She felt, rather than saw, a final, terrific flurry of thrashing legs and bodies as Elizabeth screamed again: "FUCK ME, TOMMY! OH, WONDERFUL BOY! OH, LOVELY! PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE!" And then what she begged for, apparently, for she screamed again, but not so loud: "I'm Cumming! Fuck hard, Tommy! Make me cum real good!"
And the girl, so proud of her kin, watching him pumping it into the sweet, warm pussy, making Miz Cantrell cum again and again, but holding on to his own passion, keeping his load in his balls.
When the woman stopped thrashing and lay still, her flanks heaving, she reached blindly for the girl and found her split bottom.
With precise and tender fingers, she went into the hot, slickly convulsing young vagina, pressing delicately on the very spot where Rachel's heat was highest and hardest. "My dear," she was whispering. "My dear! Oh, let me make you cum too, darling! I know how much you need it! Oh, there it is, baby!"
And, as the overwrought girl let go all her feelings, letting her orgasm cum with a soaring scream, her young cunt gripping and twisting on Elizabeth's fingers, the older woman, continued to stir the violently straining inner nerves and muscles with her accurate, soft fingers, gratefully feeling the continuing hardness of the young boy's cock. Only when Rachel turned to and fro, her young voice whimpering a plea to stop, did Elizabeth withdraw her kind and educated digits. They were streaming with pussy juice.
How glad I am that I found this courage, she thought. These darling children, so brave and hot, would die in their shyness if someone weren't here to be the leader. She felt humble, knowing that she was the least likely of teachers, but knowing that, in the land of the blind, the man with one eye is king.
She rubbed her left hand warmly on the boy's back. "You're so wonderful, Tommy," she said warmly. "Would you believe that this is the most fun I've had with my body, my pussy, in more than twenty years? Ohhh, careful young man!" as the boy rammed into her tender cunt with youthful power and enthusiasm. "A lady's pussy gets very sensitive and tender after a big orgasm. A big cum. And you, you lovely boy, you certainly gave me a big one. And you didn't even cum, yourself, you wonderful little man, you!"
She reached easily around his hard, smooth buttock and got her warm fingers around his balls, fondling them, feeling the boy go tense. He laughed doubtfully, apologetically, and fucked deep into her slack inner folds, so slick with warm juice.
It was a super-luxurious feeling. To be in a cunt, a real cunt, fucking like this, feeling so lewd, so loose. And still, not feeling scared. He knew why that was. Nobody was about to come rushing into the room, screaming vilifications and threats. Safety had a lot to do with fucking fun, he realized. And not to cum! He owed so much to Rachel!
He got up on his knees so he could see Rachel and Miz Cantrell both. His sister looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Her boobs were so large, her nipples so hard. He could smell cunt all around, and saw the lowest hairs on Rachel's cunt were dark with juice from inside her pussy. As he looked, Miz Cantrell's inner muscles gave his cock a strong bite, and he involuntarily fucked into her again. He felt so changed, so grown up., so proud. Equal to anything. He wanted to say: "Let me suck you out, Miz Cantrell!" but the words stuck in his throat. To his utter shock, he heard Rachel's voice: "I think he wants to suck you, Miz Cantrell." And then, in an ordinary conversational tone: "He never has done that, and I know he'd love it!"
The woman felt her heart expand with love and gratitude. This lovely child, this unselfish sister! And the wet heat in her cuntal area seemed to gather and increase, so that she could not help a convulsive movement which started in her loins.
"Oh, would you, Tommy?" she cried. "Oh, how lovely that would be!" She could not help fucking up at him as he knelt between her smooth, strong thighs, so utterly manly, so boyishly appealing. She started to say: ' Do you know how? Because I don't." But she knew it might take the edge off the boy's confidence, and she would not have done that for all the world.
Instead she put her hand around his cock and held it, saying: "Don't pull it out of me ... oh, the wonderful, hard thing! ... until we decide exactly how you want me! Oh, you feel so good in me! When you make it throb like that!" And her cunt bucked at him.
He was the picture of poise, pleased with himself to the point of deep joy, almost of conceit. He answered: "I want-well-could you reach it up to me, sort of? Because if I have to lie on the bed to reach it, I'll shoot my load all over your nice bed!"
His sweetness and his boyish naivete raised Elizabeth's pussy-heat another notch. In spite of herself, her inner muscles glued themselves to his strong young dick, milking it as if to force him to shoot his load of semen. He giggled, enjoying the feeling confident that he could hold it.
"When you pull it out, I'll nearly die," Elizabeth said, a strained note in her voice. "But yes, I know what you want me to do. And I know I can do it. Oh, Tommy, suck it hard, won't you, baby? Right at first? Because I sure feel yummy and cummy!"
She giggled crazily as she spit these words out, warmed by such a raging fire inside that she felt as if she could shoot her juice clear to the ceiling, knowing she couldn't. "Let me get my hands under my hips," she said. "When you pull out, I'll throw my legs up and I can balance myself on my hands. Oh Tommy, I can hardly wait!"
She got her hands braced, and felt other hands on her, warm, soft, sensitive hands. Rachel's. The girl was smiling at her tenderly. "I'll help you get your legs up. Miz Cantrell," she whispered. "That way, it'll almost be like I was getting it, myself!" Her voice choked off as she swallowed a fast flow of saliva.
"Come on, then!" the Widow Cantrell said in a high, aching voice. "Pull out, Tommy, boy! Ohhhh! Oh, God!" And she quickly raised the lower half of her body, aided by the strong, sure grip that Rachel had on her ankles. Through the red mist of lust that dimmed her eyes, she saw the love in the young girl's face, and then it disappeared. Her crotch was wide open, like an inverted ballet dancer's hardest exercise, and she could feel the kiss of room temperature on her heated cuntlips like a cold breath. She was so hot! And then there was the incredible sensation of a warm and moving mouth pressing on the needful cuntlips and she soared into the black flames of lust, all senses buried under the vast, all-covering cloud of hard orgasm which started at her womb and flared all through her.
He was on her lips, kissing and sucking, and it was not enough. He had moved to her hole and was literally sucking her out. She felt him gulp as he got a great mouthful of her cunt ooze. There was a drawing, shocking wave of love in her and going out, and she knew that his suction was pulling her cunt walls together, so that nerve rubbed on spasming nerve. And even this, great as it was, gut-tearing as it was, was not enough. And then he held her thighs tight, hugging them and holding them immobile, and his mouth and tongue found her clitoris, sucking at it as if to pull it from its quakingly tender hiding place.
And that was too much.
She was aware that her back was leaning against Tommy's knees, his thighs, his chest. She wanted him to shoot his load on her, wanted to feel the hot blast of his jism as his powerful young gonads squeezed it up and out of his balls. But all she could do was offer her cunt, beat her hands on the mattress, and scream her joy.
When she felt her pussy try to close itself, when she felt she hadn't another drop of cum-slime in the last, darkest, farthest fold of her cunt, she collapsed. Gladly. Feeling as if her entire fuck-system had been drawn inside out. Even her womb and her ovaries, usually functioning blindly and without feeling, seemed to glow and expend their stored energies to complete this warmly marvelous happening, this sense of delicious emptiness. His cock had made her feel full, now his lips had made her feel darkly, starkly drained, but alive with aftershocks of sensation.
On her back, eyes gradually focusing again, she heard the boy moan with some inner pain, and moved so that she could see what was happening. It was gorgeous, so beautiful that she could have wept in sympathy and love.
Lying on his side, his loins arched to offer all his cock. Tommy was pushing prick into his young sister's mouth as he had been doing to her pussy a few minutes before. The girl's body was quivering as the boy rammed it deeper and deeper into the girl's sweet young gullet, and she was holding his buttocks, trying to get him deeper into her. And he was talking: "Go on, baby, get it all," he was murmuring, his hands urging her quickly moving head. "I promised you. It's all for you, Rachel." It was now almost as if the girl had stopped the bobbing of her head and mouth, and her brother was fucking it into her.
From where she lay Elizabeth, her own pussy tingling with the beauty of completion and fulfillment, saw the strong muscles in Rachel's throat move as the cock went deep into her throat. She shuddered in sympathy, knowing the delights that such a massage could give the young lad's prick, already so hot and hard.
But she remembered the sweetness of this girl-child as she had forgotten her own needs to help them both, to hold the older woman's eager cunt open, to watch her brother's first full-fl-edged piece of warm, drooly female ass. And this lovely child, so hot and still so thoughtful, was writhing in the not-quite-orgasmic joys in her cunt. She was kicking her legs as though swimming, and drawing her knees up, sometimes, almost to her soft breasts. When she did this, her softly -haired pussy protruded from between her thighs and buttocks, which looked so smooth and wide.
Without an instant's hesitation, in fact, with the deepest of motivation, Elizabeth turned her slender body so that she could hold Rachel's thighs apart. She closed her eyes and licked her lips just once, imagining the joys of tasting this girl's hot, clean, hard-flowing pussy.
She got her lips between the hairy softness of the thick lips at her first try. It pleased her deeply that she could do this. Not a Lesbian thing, the books had said. Bi-sexual. As though any right-thinking, hot-blooded woman gave a shit about names. This was love, this was what she wanted, and she drank the hot, delicately redolent juice from Rachel's moving pussy as if it were some life-giving serum.
It's a good thing I've had it sucked out of me, Elizabeth thought, unable to grin in the slushy and beautifully responsive vale of tender flesh which enclosed her mouth. Else I'd be too hot to know what I'm doing.
Now that she had gripped Rachel's strong young thighs, holding them to her so that her own cum-aching breasts were mashed flatly, marvelously against her, she simply sucked and kissed and enjoyed the flow and the sweetness of the girl's cunt juice. She had a pleasant warmth left deep inside her, and she hoped that Tommy would be able to fuck her again. Longer, slower, harder. And that his delicious cream could shoot into her, up to her womb, slicking her cunt walls still more than ordinarily.
There was an extra frenzy of movement in the girl's body, and Elizabeth heard the long shout as Tommy came: "Oh. thank you, sis! Thank you! Feel it shoot, baby! IN YOUR THROAT! SWALLOW IT, SIS! SUCK IT ALL OUT! I PROMISED YOU!"
The girl's ass was out of control. It was almost more than Elizabeth could handle, but she knew the warm-blooded child was deep in her throes of orgasm, and needed the loving pressure of the older woman's lips and tongue, the suction that made it complete.
They were all panting and laughing when Rachel at last stopped cumming. They were all slick with sweat, too, and Elizabeth licked up some of it from the edge of Rachel's cunt hair, licked and chewed down softly on the moist, sweet flesh.
The girl moved to kiss her, and the older woman saw big, pearly drops of Tommy's male seed at the corners of the young girl's mouth, and met the child open-mouthed. It was so rich and thick and utterly lovely that it made her guts writhe, and after she had licked up all on the outside, Rachel whispered: "Here, kiss me! Really kiss me! I saved you some of Tommy's jism!"
They locked in a slippery embrace, and Elizabeth felt the heat, the deep joy, of sucking out deposits of the boy's seed, along with the sweet saliva of the girl, the two women joyfully exchanging every evidence of mutual love they had.
When they broke their embrace, it was to see Tommy, sitting with his arms around his knees, laughing at them. "There's still a drop on the tip of it " he teased, and gave a deep moan of pleasure as Elizabeth, her eyes rolling up to his, sucked out the last drops of his rich seed. To make it even more perfect for both of them, she mouthed his balls, washing them with her tongue, gently sucking on them both, holding his wilting cock as she gave him this loving gift.
She could think, for the moment, of nothing but love and the solid, warm feeling in her cunt, and so she was startled and shocked when she heard the boy say, plaintively: "I'm sorry, Miz Cantrell, but I've got to get up and get dressed and go home!"
She let him go, and was about to sit up when she felt the warm hand of the girl on her breast, holding her down, and heard Rachel's amused voice: "He's all right, Miz Cantrell. I think he's just hungry!"
CHAPTER FIVE
That simple, homely fact, that Tommy was hungry, completely relieved the burden of awkwardness that Elizabeth was carrying. After all, while she was forty-two, she knew almost nothing of life. Or of sex. What do you ask your guests after an hour or more of the most intense and abandoned wantonness? Now, she knew.
"Wonderful," the woman responded, her heart feeling light. "We've got all kinds of goodies in the kitchen. This was Mrs. Walsh's day to cook for me-she comes in three times a week!"
She jumped up, feeling the warm goo from her overheated cunt cooling on her inner thigh. She put a warm hand on Rachel's hip, and the young girl, her face lit by a sweet smile, jokingly took her brother's cock and pretended to be lifting him by it.
"I don't know about you two," Elizabeth said comfortably, her arm around the soft shoulders of the girl, "but it's still too hot for me to want to get dressed. What about you, Tommy?"
He shrugged, then laughed. "If you've got vinyl seats on your kitchen chairs, I'll borrow a dish towel from you to protect me," he said. "One time, my butt stuck to one of those, and nearly ripped off some skin."
They pulled beautiful old-fashioned pine chairs around a table, and Elizabeth and Rachel brought out fried chicken, still warm and crisp, half a ham a covered dish of potato salad, and a bag of crusty rolls. The kids were so easy, so comfortable, that Elizabeth had to express her surprise.
"It's just incredible to me," she said, "how simply and easily all of this happened. It's just hard to believe that you've never done all these things before. I mean it, I really do. Oh, Tommy!" and she reached into his lap to fondle his prick, which was still fat and sticky and warm "You did it to me so great! And you must know I'm really not all that experienced, myself."
She felt herself blush all over, and Rachel got up and came around the table to kiss her. "You're just beautiful, Miz Cantrell," the girl said, tears in her eyes. "You know, I felt the strongest call from you." Now it was the girl's turn to blush. "I guess it sounds crazy " she said, "but I've been thinking for a long time that maybe you might have some sort of work I could do. And then, only this morning, my father was talking so ugly about you. You know what I mean, don't you, Tommy?"
The boy nodded, his handsome young face stern and angry.
"Sis talked to me about it before," he said. "Our dad's not the nicest person in the world. It's that damned church! But I guess you know that, already. Your husband, he was very big in that congregation. So you know."
"Well," Elizabeth answered, "I know how Sam Mister Cantrell-was. And some of the things he told me. But you know that women don't count for much. Not with those people. Those men."
The young boy struck the palm of his hand on the table. "Only when they want to fuck!" he cried. "They're so mean to women! But when they get a hard-on, look out! Nobody's safe. No girl."
Elizabeth, having her own visions of a brutal, big-man cock plundering the tender pussy of the lovely twelve-year-old Rachel, shook her head. "Is it true that they-that your father might, well, go after Rachel, here?" Her voice was tight.
The boy put his arm around his sister's naked waist as she stood between him and Elizabeth. "You better believe it," he said. "If it wasn't for me and mom, he'd have raped her long ago. Only they don't call it rape," he grated. "They call it 'opening up a new vein of love and respect.' Phew!'" and he almost choked on the expletive. "I think I'd kill Rachel before I'd let him stick it into her!" He leaned forward and Elizabeth saw that some of this, the dread idea of their father fucking this tender little sister, or his own hot interest in her, had given him a new hard-on. She leaned across Rachel's body to hold the warm soft-skinned cock. It was so hard, so lovely!
"Your mom really must be something," she said to the two kids. "How can she prevent your dad-uh-doing whatever he wants? After all, he's bigger and stronger than she is."
The boy laughed shortly, his eyes dark and smoky with anger. "The old devil got right up off mom one morning-" and he paused, turned red, and gulped. "I'm sorry, maybe I oughtn't to be talking about family affairs."
"Go on," Elizabeth said, pressing his cock gently. "Face it, we three are pretty close. At least I feel that way." She, too, laughed. "I feel like I'd like to have some more of your cock," she said. "And do some things to this sweet child, at the same time," and she sent a glance of love, hot, sultry love, up to the nubile young girl. But tell me what happened."
Tommy's face was serious. He tightened his grip around his little sister's warm hips, putting his cheek against her bush of light-brown cunt hair. "I heard him," he said in a low, taut voice. "I heard him fucking mom. He's always been brutal about it. And she's always so sweet about it. 'Come on, Linus,' she always says. 'You're doing it to me just fine, just like old times.' Oh, God damn him to hell! God damn all of them to hell!" He was almost hysterical his face drawn, his voice high.
Elizabeth found herself caught up in a wave of heat. Once, long ago, she had heard her own mother and dad. Unmistakeable, what they were doing. Thought she was upstairs playing with her dolls. She remembered the sight of her father's cock as he drew it out, hard and red, dripping with her mother's cunt juice. She closed her eyes and shuddered with the sensation of cum-itch crawling in the darkness of her vagina. But she owed something to Tommy. To both of these great kids.
She put her hand on his arm placatingly "They're married," she said quietly. "She married him in the expectation of giving him all the sex he needs. Of getting all she needs. You mustn't be jealous of him."
"Jealous?" the boy cried. "Jealous? Is that what you think it is, jealousy? Because he's always cramming his Goddamned cock into mom? And wants to do the same to Rachel? Why, Miz Cantrell, that's awful! It's like you were saying I want to do it to my own mama!" He smacked his hand on the table again, making dishes jump.
His sister held his head against the soft firmness of her bare young breasts, brushing his dark hair back. "Don't race your motor, Tommy, darling," she said soothingly. "You would, you know. You've noticed mama's body all your life. You told me. You know you don't have to lie to anybody. 'Specially yourself!" She looked at Elizabeth above the boy's head and smiled, woman to woman. "Just go on and tell what happened," she said softly.
He turned and looked at Elizabeth, his boyish face looking very old. "Sometimes a kid my age goes almost crazy," he said. "You never will know how much you've done for me. Making sex-well, fucking is what I mean-seem so easy and simple. I don't understand it. But then, I guess there's a lot of things I don't understand." He kissed his sister's smooth young belly.
"I get too worked up, sometimes," he acknowledged. "But that day, after he was banging mama, and she was telling him how good he did it, and he was a real man, and all like that, just making him feel good, I know, because he's not all that good-"
"Tommy!" Rachel interrupted him sharply. "Stop it! You really make it seem like you're jealous!" She giggled. "If I was a guy instead of a girl, I think I'd get it up for mama. What's wrong with wanting to stick your dick into some real good-looking woman? Even if she happens to be your mother? Go on, now!"
The boy shook his head. "Okay," he grinned. "But he made me sore as hell. He said-and this was about a year ago, when Rachel just had cute little old cupcake-type titties-he said: 'Well, hell, seeing I'm such a mighty stud, maybe you'd ought to run little Young Stuff through here and let me pluck her cherry! She's got to lose it sooner or later. Why not with me?' And then he sort of raised up and screamed at mama, holding onto his ass, and she sat up in bed, calm as you please, with a long-bladed fish knife in her hand. She must keep it under her pillow. Anyhow, the Old Man capered all around, a little trickle of blood running down his butt, and mom said to him: ' "You do get sort of forgetful, Linus, don't you? I told you that if you let that church persuade you it's all right to fuck your daughter, the church is going to lose a member.' " His young voice was awed but happy.
Elizabeth felt herself choked from an excess of emotion. In this short day of complete release, of sexual freedom and wantonness such as she had never dreamed, she felt she saw many things in a much truer perspective, in a much more revealing light. The boy's prick, which she had continued to stroke, seemed even bigger and harder than when they were upstairs, when he had almost sawed her in half with it, making her cum and cum and cum Well, part of that's due to my own talents, she thought with affectionate pride.
She had edged her chair closer and closer to Tommy, and they had the girl trapped between them. In a burst of the warmest love, she put one hand between Rachel's thighs, on the damply sweated smoothness of the girl's perfect skin, and moved her fingers in the cum-matted hair on the younger woman's fat, soft cuntlips.
"Right now," she said, having a little trouble making her voice sound normal, "I'm afraid I can't get too mad at anybody for wanting to fuck anybody. I think you ought to stick it in Rachel. You never have done it, have you? And I'll bet that this was the first time you ever came in her body. Anywhere in her body. I'm not blaming you." She groped for words. "I know you've tried to help each other without going all the way. But I think you're sort of mixed up, Tommy. Really I do. How could you stick your fingers in this sweet thing," and the older woman turned her face and kissed deeply between the warm, softly twitching cuntlips, "and not bust your ass to get your peter into it?"
She got up suddenly. "I've got to have your cock in my mouth, Tommy, my dear," she said hoarsely. 'Let's go out in the back yard, under the mulberry trees!"
They all carried thick pads of Terrycloth-upholstered rubber foam out beside her big pool. Rachel, enchanted, dived into the clear, warm water and swam the length of the pool and back again, the tan all over her lovely rump showing that she had spent a great deal of time in the sun without a bathing suit. When she hauled out, dripping water from every wet hair on her lovely young pussy, Elizabeth said: "The main reason old Sam bought that damned pool was because he wanted to try screwing me underwater. And he couldn't get it up enough to get it in."
The boy and girl looked at each other in quiet mirth, and Elizabeth said: "Maybe he was too old. Can you do it, Tommy?"
His sister laughingly answered. "Long as we're spilling all the family history, I'll tell you. I was in the creek one night-that's Easter Creek, it runs right, back of our house, and has some nice, deep holes-and Tommy found me there. I guess we were both hot. He'd been watching me before I saw him; and he had it good and hard."
"Tell the truth, sis," the boy answered, flushing. "I didn't know it was you, just some naked girl. And I was jerking off."
"Oh, you dear!" the girl cried. "You needed me so bad! So," and she looked at Elizabeth, "I got him in the water, tried to get him to put it-well, where it would do us both the most good-but he just kept rubbing it between my legs and I kept pulling at it until he shot off in the water."
"Boy, did it ever feel good!" the boy said, closing his eyes. "Some sort of pressure, I guess, makes it harder to get the jism out. Listen, you want to see me do it to her in the water? You said I ought to fuck her." He was grinning, holding his cock out threateningly. Looking at him, Elizabeth thought: I hope he doesn't die of remorse after he leaves here. Showing off so big. And another thought followed the first one as naturally as the words of a remembered song: I hope I don't, either. From those books old Sam had kept in his secret drawer, Elizabeth had learned how men, especially, suffer from a sort of shock after too much sex. "Post-coital depression," the book's writer called it. Considering the strange land she had entered into, Elizabeth thought, she might have a sudden attack of it, herself. But not yet, please, God! Her mind blazed with the memory of the feel of that boy's hard prick in her pussy. How would it feel in her mouth? In her rectum? She had a convulsive flutter of nerves and muscles in her vagina, and once again, almost shot her wad in a tenderly fierce orgasm.
The strong, lean boy was lying propped on one elbow, still grinning at the raunchiness of his offer to screw his little sister in the pool. In his heart, he hoped Miz Cantrell would turn it down. There was something else he wanted even more-to stick it in this kindly older woman's sweet mouth, to have her thick, sweet tongue force the cum out of him, delicately, slowly. Not like when he had pumped it into his young sister. That had been okay, but it was only because of his promise to her. Of course, to be honest, it had been wonderful. He didn't know who did things like this, at least, no one had ever done it to him. He'd heard about it plenty. Maybe they were experts. He hoped Miz Cantrell was.
She came over to where he was propped up and went down on her knees so that her warm pussy was right at his face. Her heart was beating hard and fast. "Well," she said as well as she could, with her mouth suddenly filled with a rush of her spit, "are you going to give me that big prick of yours? Are you going to let me give it a good sucking, until you shoot that wonderful, tasty juice down my throat?" My God, she thought, how did I ever think up such horrible, wonderful things to say? It was incredible, but no more so than all the rest of this day.
She got down on her own elbow, facing the tall boy's crotch. His cock was perfectly beautiful, its head swollen to shiny tightness by the flow of his blood. It was a deep, purplish red. The soft skin was still white, with big blue veins showing through it but it was beginning to redden with desire. After he fucked me before, her mind rejoiced, it was red all over.
Without any further thought or speech, she moved so that the head of the boy's cock was at her lips, took hold of the stem, and rubbed the soft springy tip across her lips. There was a tiny, clear drop of cum-fluid in the little eye in the head; she licked it up with deep satisfaction, "I hope you've got a lot more of it stored up, baby," she said through lips gone stiff. "I'm going to suck the bottom right up out of your well!" And she moved swiftly, evenly, going down on him as naturally as if she had done it for years.
She remembered the deep, blasting fire that had jolted her when the boy had gone down on her. She moved a gentle hand and took his young nuts from where they were drawn up tightly against his pole, tenderly caressing them. As soon as she had sucked every last drop of richness from his spurting cock, she would take them in her mouth and suck them. Just thinking of it gave her such a powerful drive of cum-itch that she humped her loins involuntarily.
The boy, as deeply drawn into her circle of heat as she was, and with the memory of the sweetness, the rich taste, the heat of her warm pussy, put his hand right in the wet, pink middle of her inner labia, so that she swung her body up in mute appeal.
The young girl, her own guts twisting at the sight of all this humanity and beauty, said in a calm, clear tone: "Suck her, Tommy! She wants you to suck her! Oh, Tommy, look how sweet she is! Look at that juice!"
The boy, however, was so engrossed with voyeurism that he could not move. He had allowed his sister to suck him off, but, in actuality, he had fucked her in the throat, seeing little of what was happening. Now, stretched on the soft pad in the sun, with the beautiful, mature woman's naked body in plain view, the urge to watch her as her head bored into his groin, taking his cock deep into her mouth, was so marvelous that he wanted nothing more.
The sight of Elizabeth's opened crotch, the thick and hairy lips spread wide by heat to show the slick and flowing hole, deeply affected the girl. She remembered the earlier part of the day as if it were a sweet, remote dream, too beautiful for reality. She had seen and felt and, from finger to lip, tasted the femaleness of the lovely creature who so busily gobbled her brother's prick. But that was hours ago, and shrouded in a mist of unreality. This was now, and she slipped between Elizabeth's thighs with a little moan of anticipation, running her pink tongue out, licking her lips.
At the touch of her soft hands on Elizabeth's inner thighs, the woman jerked in unexpected lust, throwing her knees apart, exposing more of the smooth, slick interior of her vulva. The girl, with a grateful little cry, gripped Elizabeth around the thighs and lowered her sweet mouth to the rosy split that so charmed her.
She heard Tommy's voice: "Oh, God, sis, that's so beautiful! To see you sucking her! She's doing me so great! OHHHH!" And he humped the lean length of his body as the woman's tongue instinctively wrapped around the tenderest part of his cock. "OHHHHH! Suck her good, sis!"
The girl was on her knees and elbows, and her brother, able to reach her sweetly spread bottom with his hands, felt tenderly between her parted cuntlips so that she screamed with the pleasure of having him touch her in the deepest heat of her young cunt.
Elizabeth was fucking up at the girl's sweet mouth and her long tongue. She felt the power of orgasm building, building, taking her along as she enjoyed the taste of the boy's prick. It was larger and harder, she knew, and in spite of her ignorance of such things, she guessed that he was close to his climax. She worried about Rachel. Was she getting a fair deal? It was then that she felt, rather than heard, the scream of joy which Tommy's searching fingers had forced from the young girl's lips. Felt it as a hard vibration in her own pussy, so close to orgasm, and with a last desperate suck, she shot Tommy over the edge.
"Ohhhh!" Ohhhh!" he moaned, humping hard so that his dick went deeper and deeper into her throat. "OH, MIZ CANTRELL! SUCK IT, BABY! SUCK IT!"
She felt the hard shot of his sperm before she tasted it, and then her own cumming began, and it was all a delicious, twisted dream of love and lust. Tremors of intense pleasure surged through her body, so that she felt as if her very bowels were on fire with the pains of love. And the thick, rich seed from Tommy's pecker, filling her mouth so that her cheeks puffed, shooting again and again as she tried to swallow each blast before another filled her, made her own orgasm seem higher, harder, hotter.
She felt Rachel's mouth withdraw, and desperately shook her head, the only way she could protest, and the shaking made her mouth and tongue and teeth rub Tommy's tender cock very hard on its sides and bottom, so that he screamed again in sheer ecstasy.
Rachel felt as if she would burst from pure joy. She had been hot long before she had hair on the richly sculptured fatness of her mound and outer cuntlips. She had fingered herself to a cum on countless occasions, and had been finger-fucked by her brother each time she had given him the sweet assistance of her girlish hands when he was randy. But today, things were at their peak.
Just to know, in such quick and amazing fashion, that there was such a person as Elizabeth Cantrell! To come so quickly to a conviction that she loved this older woman, and that they shared the unusual gift of "reading" each other. That was great. But to see Miz Cantrell being fucked by her beloved brother, to take Tommy's load with her sucking lips, and then, joy of joys, to participate with them while the woman sucked Tommy and she drew her new friend's cuntal sweetness into her own mouth-that was ecstasy beyond any words the girl knew. Or could imagine.
Her face was so buried in Elizabeth's cunt that she had to move it to breathe. The richly female odor and taste, the rake of dry cunt hair on her nose, the softness of lower cunt muscle against her chin, all these were simply parts of a dream of hot beauty.
She hit her highest peak from Tommy's clever fingers in her juicy pussy, she exploded in a scream and fell with her face on the older woman's quivering belly, her young body twitching from the burning threads of orgasm which still plucked at her nerves.
They were all helpless for a few moments, their bodies aching with love, muscles gone slack with the expenditure of such passion. One of Rachel's full breasts was w-edged into the sweetness of Elizabeth's open cunt, and both women shared the splendor of feeling this oddity gifted them with.
They clung to each other, laughing, happy, free with each other. It's as if we had just been born, Elizabeth thought. Born free of guilt and free of shame. She shivered in superstitious fear. Such joy-was it right for people who sinned to know such happiness? Some words from Sam's Bible came to her mind. Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord. I will repay. But she shook it off. Her hand was on one of Rachel's big, swollen young titties, the hard nipple, dark with the girl's hot blood, hard as a cob between her fingers. Her face was in the boy's lap as he sat cross-legged on the mat, and her lips could touch his warm, sticky peter, which had just shot such a load of delicious cream down her throat. Sweet, sweet, sweet! They had done no wrong!
CHAPTER SIX
After the kids had gone home, Elizabeth roamed around the big, landscaped yard in a happy stupor of euphoria. There is no feeling so satisfactory to a healthy woman as the sense of fullness and gentle heat in her cunt that comes after it has been well used. Sex, for all of us, is divided into three sections-desire, fulfillment, and memory. For the first time in her life Elizabeth had happily known all three.
Since her husband's death, as she gradually realized she was free, her rebel body had kept nudging her to get some hard meat stuck into her. Old teachings plus almost twenty-five years of brutalizing marriage had made her feel guilty, made her feel insignificant and unwanted, had made her feel old. "Too old." Hadn't she said that, only today, to someone? Yes-she remembered. She had said it.
But the quick love of that strange young girl had started her toward a cure, and the girl's brother, so reticent at first, had made her know that she was something really wonderful-a woman, a hot cunt wrapped in a beautiful body. She had, in this one lovely day, known desire so hot that it almost devoured her, fulfillment that drained her of old pain and left her with the fullness of love. And now she had the sweetest memories a human can ever know-the recall of being beautifully fucked and sucked and of giving in the same manner and degree.
She ate dinner rather late. She didn't feel lonely. The mere fact that Sam was gone had been a daily bracer for her spirits. Each day, her body had sent her urgent little messages: "Find a man! Get him to fuck you! Learn new tricks-like sucking pricks! Love somebody!" And now she had done all of those things. And more.
How marvelous to lie in her big, comfortable bed and feel a glow of hunger return to a sated cunt! She reached both hands down to her crotch and got her right index fingers in the top of her slit, moving it softly until the entire area around her clit was sensitized. With her left hand, she reached further down and gently pinched the swelling outer lips together, pressing up so that her strength was pushing hard against the inside of each thigh, just under the big tendons, one on each side, which run right up to the top of a woman's pussy. That entire area is warm and responsive, no matter whose pressure is there.
It was lovely, thinking about Tommy's hard young cock going into her. His pubic mound had ground and pressed right on the soft, hairy flesh in which her finger was buried.
"How many times did I cum?" the woman wondered aloud. "It was so wonderful, just playing with that sweet girl-I think I shot my load three or four times. When I said-or did she say it?-one of us, anyhow, said: 'Let's just take off our disguises and let it all hang out.' "
That was a strange thing to say, because they were both naked at the time. Thinking of the smoothness and warmth, the pneumatic firmness of Rachel's breasts and buttocks and belly, Elizabeth groaned and moved her index finger up and down in her slit, luxuriating in the warm itch that seemed to swell her cunt.
Another sharp, bright, poignant memory of that visit with Rachel was when she had said: "All right, you wanted to see what I did that was sinful, right? So let's touch and brush our lips against the sinfullest places we both have. And say the most sinful things we can think of to say." She had wanted to say: "Let's do every sinful thing we can think of!" but had chickened out. After all, she barely knew the girl. And she was forty-two, while Rachel was thirty years younger.
"And anyhow," Elizabeth gasped, now that fire was following her finger as she fucked herself with it so skillfully, "we did everything, later on."
She was glad she was lying down. She never realized how extremely hot she was until one night, before she had learned how to make sure of an orgasm when Sam banged her, she had done this very same finger-work on her pussy, standing in the bathroom leaning against the wall and watching herself in the bathroom mirror. And when it had hit her, when juice and cum-power flowed out of her excited cunt, she had slid right down the wall to the floor. Hard. So that Sam, running in to see what was the matter, had seen her bare-assed naked, which he never did because of his religious prejudices. But luckily, he thought she had been ill. Or fainted.
So, he didn't raise hell with her. But he did lie there in the dark, breathing hard, until he had apparently reached the end of his rope. Then he had rolled her over again, opened her legs again, and had given her another hard, animal-like fuck. Only, this time, since she had creamed so well from her finger, his big tool had slipped into her as a gift rather than a punishment. And she, unable to pretend indifference, had fucked him with the fury of a she-mink in rutting fervor.
Old Sam! Once she had learned to get herself up, greasing her puss, playing with her clit until she was juicy and ready, it wasn't so bad. He didn't fuck well, but she was too fucking dumb to know that. She knew that her father had not been so brutal as Sam; in fact, he had been loving and attentive to her mother. So she mused and dwelt on nostalgia while her wise finger played at reality. Gently touching just where it felt the best. And she knew how good her pussy must have felt to young Tommy. Because she knew how marvelous and sweet and hot Tommy's sister's pussy felt to her.
She had reached almost to the top of the swell of heat that was rising, rising, rising in the dark of her cunt. She had two dildos, the best that her money could buy, according to the smiling, knowledgeable woman who had sold them to her in Crosley. One with heat and vibration. One with all of that plus big, squeezable, life-like balls that held hot starch and shot it into your screaming pussy when your fingers clutched and squeezed in wild joy. When you were shooting it. Thick and slick and warm. But not like the real thing.
There were sparks flying in the dark where she lay with eyelids clenched. There was a trembling crawl of craving cum-itch as she held her hands still. She was on the verge of a hard cum. If it was to last, she had to take it easy. But thinking of the taste of Tommy's thick, hot semen was too much.
In a convulsion of heat, she let go her outer lips to shove two fingers of her left hand as deep into her vagina as she could.
At the same time, closing her eyes against the beauty and the wild heat of her cumming, she spread the top of her slit with all her fingers and rubbed hard but tenderly all over her spasming clit, all over the oozingly tender area around it, so that the big orgasm just seemed to slide out of her, to light up the room with its dark and silent beauty, and to bring a new flood of cum-juice out of her inexhaustible supply.
"Oh, thank You, God!" she whispered shakily. "Thank You for making me so hot. For making me a woman!
She licked her fingers carefully, her hunger causing her to reach for more of her cunt nectar, then turned on her side and fell into a deep, sweet sleep.
Just before she awoke for keeps, she had a dream that upset her a little. Tommy had said: "You ought to have a fence," and when she had asked why, he said: "There are plenty of bad guys around here. You ought to have a fence and a big dog."
She had not given it much thought, not being absolutely certain of what Tommy meant, of what the "bad guys" might do. But, in the dream, two big guys, one white and the other dark, either a Negro or a very dark Mexican, had come on her at the pool where she lay nude, and took out their big cocks and shook them at her. She had not been afraid, but the thought of having two such big fellows holding her and fucking her made her wake up, streaming sweat and trembling all over. There was also a sharp feeling of lust awakened in her trembling cunt-flesh, in her clit which was still sensitive from yesterday's lovely fun. And last night's lusty finger-fucking. "I sure know to do that," Elizabeth said in deep gratification. "I sure do love my pussy."
She called Mister Lacey, the hardware man, soon after her breakfast, telling him she needed a fence. And she called Jeff Brigance, the dog trainer who lived between Bonville and Benton, just off the freeway. Yes, he had a dog or two that would make a good guard dog. When she said she had ordered a fence, Brigance said: "Call me when the fence is up and I'll bring the dog. Better yet, why not come down today and start getting acquainted with the animal? After all," he added, chuckling fiercely, "you want him to know who's boss, don't you?"
She was dressing to drive down to the dog place when she heard the brisk whir of her doorbell, and was flushed with heat and joy when she ran to the door and saw Tommy Burke. He was moody, and she thought: Oh-oh, he's got that overfucked depression!
She said at once: "Oh, Tommy, I'm so glad to see you! Come in! Can I get you some breakfast?"
She watched with pleasure while he ate ham and eggs and thick toast and honey, with a big glass of milk. "I hope Rachel's getting something to eat," she said, and the boy answered: "Don't worry about Rachel; she takes care of herself."
While the boy was eating, Elizabeth sat by him with her hand in his lap. She gently stroked along his thigh and was rewarded when she felt his young prick begin to swell and throb. She smiled at him tenderly as he leaned back and opened his thighs so she could get to it better, and when she unzipped his fly and reached in and got it out, handling it so gently, he at last smiled.
"It sure does come up for you, Miz Cantrell," he said. "You surely must be the prettiest lady I ever knew." He bumped his young hips slightly, so that he was fucking into her hand, and she got up quickly, reaching for the button on her shoulder strap that would let her summery dress slide off her shoulders.
"How do you want it, Tommy?" she asked. She was trying to be casual, but her lust choked her.
He did not move, so she fell on her knees between his legs, gave him one intense look of love, and swallowed the big, hard cock.
It gave her the shock of her life.
There was no mistaking that taste. His delicious peter was covered with drying cum-juice, and it wasn't his. This was pure, clean, clear female pussy juice, some of it coagulated under the pinkly grained foreskin, like teeny bits of tapioca. Or cheese.
She got up, feeling stupid, and he said in a harsh voice, not at all boyish:
"Okay. So you know. I've been fucking someone."
She said, in a daze: "That's all right, Tommy. That's your business. Yours and Rachel's. I don't mind. You must know that. I just wish I could have seen it, that's all. Oh!" she cried, and once more her lower belly was filled with warmth, "how I wish I could have been there to see it all, to guide it in!"
The boy eyed her glumly for a few seconds, and then said: "Were you going somewhere?" Informed, he said, "I'll ride down with you. I know dogs better'n you do, so I can help. And we can talk. Oh, Miz Cantrell," he sobbed, "I need to talk to somebody!"
She went by way of the old highway. The freeway would have been faster, but she wanted to park. A mile out of town, she pulled off the old road, across the grassy verge, under the shading limbs of a very old live oak tree. She looked around, then drove a bit further, until they were screened from the infrequent traffic by the thick foliage of a massive wild grapevine.
Without hesitation, she again undid the button on her dress, letting it fall so that her unbrassiered breasts lay warm and naked for the boy, and pulled his head down to them. With her free hand, she reached between them to hold his cock, and whispered: "All right, Tommy, tell me what's the matter. I told you, I feel it's all right for you to screw Rachel. In fact, I wanted you to do it last night. So it's nothing to worry about. Is it?"
His young cock was hard again, and she frigged at it with a tender hand, wishing it was out so she could put it between her bare titties.
The boy gulped. "Oh, Miz Cantrell," he sobbed, "that's what I wanted to tell you! It wasn't Rachel. It's mom!"
The deeply raunchy idea of this tall, sweet boy satisfying another grown woman-and his mother, yet!-gave Elizabeth an odd twist in her kinked vagina. She let the boy go and got out of the car on the driver's side. "Get out," she said hoarsely, and, when he looked at her with tears streaming down his face, she said quickly: "No, no, Tommy! I'm not mad at you! Get out and get in the back seat! We can talk better there!"
Once they were in the privacy of the big back seat, she said to him archly: "Now, young man, you just get that big, pretty thing out here where I can see it! There! That's right! Oh, my God, it's so pretty! So big! Oh, you sweet peter, you!" And she knelt on the rug in the back of the car, her mouth tenderly closing on the boy's big, marvelously hard prick.
She sucked carefully, moving her head, running her tongue all around the head, flicking it against the tender underside, deeply pleased when Tommy stiffened and shot his loins up so violently that his big prickhead jammed down her throat. There was a rankly male scent steaming up from his sweated ass, and she impatiently pried his thighs farther apart so that the odor increased.
The taste of female cum was diminishing, though, and she realized that there was something else she wanted-in fact, it was something she had wanted all her life, a thick, hard, heavy cock, jammed deep into her twitching, leaky pussy.
Her dress was fashioned of a soft, light print material, very wide at the hem. The sight of the boy's lean, beautiful legs and rigid, red-tipped cock, painted a lovely picture for her.
She had on thin, scanty-cut bikini panties, so that his cock could easily have gotten into her if he or she only held the tiny strip of fabric apart. But Elizabeth wanted all the thrill of flesh she could get-her cock hunger was raging so.
Getting part way up and working in an awkward stoop that still held great interest for the young boy as he saw the long, soft cunt hair hanging down as she held her dress up, she swiftly unpantied herself, dropping the garment to the floor.
"Now, baby," she breathed, getting up on the seat, facing him, with one knee on either side of Tommy's thighs, "hold my cunt open with one hand and steer your peter into me with the other!"
The youth was panting with heat and concentration as he held the hard column and aimed the head where he thought the fuck hole was. But his aim was bad, he raked across the bubbling vaginal entrance, so clogged with cunt ooze that he skidded on by, and jammed half an inch into her asshole before she could move.
Since she was not prepared for it, and neither his cock nor her anus were properly lubricated, the minute penetration hurt them both, and Elizabeth grunted in pain as she moved her ass backward to adjust the range. She grunted again, but this time in deep joy, as the kid's big tool penetrated her slickly, and her weight brought her cunt down around it with such force that he struck the end of her fuck-tube so hard it seemed to jar her back teeth.
She could only cling to him, speechless for the moment with commingling of pain and ecstasy, but he clasped her buttocks in his hands and held her to him while she kissed him deeply, her tongue going down his slick throat in duplication of what his cock was doing up her pussy. She was only a hair away from a hard cum, and she wanted it badly. But she also wanted to feel the hot, wet stream of his cock-juice lashing into her, and she felt that if she brought him along when she came, she could not get the full experience from it.
She nibbled his ear affectionately, rocking her body slightly, each movement banging his young organ against her quivering womb.
"Are you about to come, dearest?" she whispered. "Or can you hold it off, you great big, wonderful fucker, you? Oooooh!" and she wriggled as a tremor of lust shook her deep inside. "Did you cum in your mother's cunt this morning? Oooooh! OOOOOOH!" and this time she really screamed as the salacious thoughts built in her mind. This handsome boy, barely in high school, fucking her, a woman older than his mother-and with his mom's cum-juice drying on his lovely cock! She knew his mom, much better than she had mentioned. She often bought clothes in Sloane's Dress Shop, where Christine Burke held a part time job. She had even, in the normal course of events, touched hands with the fine-looking, hearty woman in accepting change, or giving a check. Her hands, that had held Tommy's cock so firmly, touching the hands of the woman who had wiped his little ass when he was a baby, cleaned the head of his tiny cock. But another thing crossed her inflamed mind.
"Do you kiss your mother when you fuck her?" she asked, and her cunt clamped its sensitive muscle on the boy's hard cock. "Does she suck your tongue like I do?"
The boy had begun to relax. Miz Cantrell was so easygoing. Nine out of ten women in Bonville would have had a shit-fit if they knew his mom opened her legs for him, guided his hard prick into her seething pussy, fucked the jism right out of him. With his face against the soft, sweet face of the woman who bestrode him, he grinned and fucked up into her, banging against her cervix. Not many ladies like Miz Cantrell, by God! He answered huskily: "We do everything," he whispered. "She taught me how!"
With this feeling of sisterhood for the woman who had birthed this lovely boy, and with his cock stirring in her guts like a hot rod of flexible steel, Elizabeth began to cum. "Ohhh, baby," she moaned, "it's cumming! Oh, Tommy dear! FUCK ME!" She was riding up and down his cock, wildly, concerned only with the wild, lovely flowering of heat deep up her cunt, all through her belly, with flames of lust seeming to burn all of her loins. "AAARRRGGGHHH! OH, BABY! LET ME CUM!" And she went up and down in a measured beat of strength and sexuality, pouring fuck-juice out and down his hard dick as she fucked and fucked.
When she stopped at last, all passion spent, she would have sagged and fallen off him, but he held her on his prick. "Oh, no, you don't," he said tensely. "You've got me so hot I'm about to backfire the jism right out of my asshole! You stay right on my prick. Ooooh, Miz Cantrell, you feel so good on me, there! I was about to shoot it, but now I'm fine. You just seem so loose and slick and lovey, somehow!" He kissed her, holding her face so that she didn't wobble in her weakness, and she caught fire again when his tongue delved deep under her own, around her teeth and gums, feeling as hard and sweet as his cock. But not as big.
He held her ass again, and began to rock and heave in a smooth, rhythmic beat. The motion of his thighs, the lift of his hands, and most of all, the gathering desire in her insides, all began to pull her into the same cycle of lust-rhythm.
"Oh, my God, Tommy!" she exclaimed brokenly. "I'm so tender, now that I've cum. OH, DON'T! she cried. "OH, IT HURTS!" But she held him, her eyes glazed over with deep, solid fuck pains that made her feel she was in sex heaven.
In the young boy's balls, where heat had risen steadily ever since he first set eyes on Elizabeth an hour ago, there was a big charge of semen trembling on the brink of explosion. True, he had shot one load into his mother's writhing and appreciative cunt, but what is one load to a boy of fourteen? Especially when he had so much lovely pussy available to him. The stream of female fluids running into his pubic hair, slipping along the insides of his thighs, the aromas of fucking, and the soft, slickly lovely friction on her hard young cock, they were touching his cum-trigger.
But he wanted one more thing, one more delight.
"Your tits!" he gasped. "Give me your tits!"
She had automatically pulled the top of her A-line dress up when she got out of the car. It was the work of an instant to loosen it again. Her position, rising as she did with each push of the young boy's cock, threw the soft, heavy breasts against his face, and he caught one nipple in his mouth, sucking it with such wildness that she screamed and pressed the big pillow of flesh hard against his intent face. He sucked and bit like an angry baby, and the powerful thrill that it sent from her nipple to her belly made her yell out her pleasure again.
"Oh, Tommy! Oh, baby! It's so fucking good! It's so good to be fucking! Oh, oh, oh!" And her insides gathered in a knot, ready to shoot another high voltage charge of sex power down the boy's rod. And just as it started, his young balls also began to shoot their stored-up load.
It was more than the woman could bear. Too much, too hot, too sweet! "Oh, God!" she cried. "AAARRRGGGHHH! UNNNHHH! OH, FUCK ME, BABY! UNNNNHHHH!" And she humped and groaned like an animal, her cunt feeling stuffed with cock and overflowed with jism.
His hard-held load was pouring out of him in gut-shaking spurts. "Oh, mama!" he screamed between the soft tits that covered his face. He pictured the split and hairy glory of the pussy spread so wide across his loins, the pink inner labia, swollen with cum-lust, streaked red with overcharged surface veins, and the bright pictures burned the cum still faster and harder up the big tubes in his youthful price. "OH! OH! CUNT! CUNT!" he cried, all muffled in the sweet, solid warmth of Elizabeth's fat titties.
Her knees were pressed against the back of the seat when they at last fluttered out their last feeble shot of cum juice, and she was riding high on his belly. Her dress was down around her waist and up around her hips; she was, in effect, bare-ass naked except for the dress which was more like a fluffy sash.
The woman could not move for a minute or two, and when she did get off the boy, it was stiffly, like a drunken woman, and she fell on her back on the broad rear seat, her thighs spread and her legs in the air.
Her cunt, spread open by her position, was red with heat and dripping the boy's fuck-juice mixed with her own. The outer lips were thicker and puffier than ever, she had been fucked so vigorously and well, and the big tendons in her thighs were like cables connecting with the top of her slit.
She was so beautiful that the boy, in no way fucked out, buried his young face in the slot between her thighs, gulping her cunt's mixed flow with the drive of a man dying of thirst and finding a clear stream of sweet water. Only this was sweeter. His cock-slime, her cunt-ooze-what a gorgeous menu! His tongue lashed in and out of her fuck-hole, which hung, slack and open, shining red in the bright mid-morning sun.
By the time he had sucked her out and gently licked up all traces of their joint flow of cum, she was herself again, holding his face between her hands, tonguing him in thanks.
"Now," she said gaily, settling her dress around her thighs and up over her boobs until she looked like a guest at a garden party, "I'll kiss his pretty face clean!" and she held his cock like a flower as she carefully licked all around it. "I hope your mother wouldn't mind this. Mind me taking a load of your jism away from her," she said, laughing brightly.
They got in the front seat again, starting for Benton, and nearly ran down a black-and-white Sheriff's car as Elizabeth, her spirits soaring, came charging out from the green shelter of the hanging grapevines. She smiled and waved at the two Highway Patrol officers, and they waved back, open-mouthed.
"There's a hellofa good-looking woman, that Miz Cantrell," the younger of the two men, Patrolman Dick Jones, said thoughtfully. "She's got some mileage on her, but she sure looks like a woman who'd make your ass touch the chandelier. Must be over forty, too. But goddamn, I'd sure as hell like to slip it to her."
His companion, a solid man with flecks of gray in his jaw's stubble, Sergeant Pat Carroll, grinned. "Forty-two, exactly," he said. "I went to school with her, so I know." He adjusted the car's speed to stay well behind the widow's car. "You're a dirty-minded young cuss, lusting after such a nice old lady. Would you fuck her if she had gray hair on her puss?"
The younger man swore and slapped his thigh. "If she looks that good when I'm your age, Sarge, I'll fuck her if I've got to pull her out of her wheelchair!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You see, Miz Cantrell," Tommy said, "this is what's kept me from taking care of Rachel like I should. I owe more to mama than I do to my sister. You can see that, can't you?" His voice was pleading, his young face sad.
"You mean, I guess, that if you 'take care' of Rachel like you should, you won't be able to, uh, take care of your mom, too? Is that it?" Elizabeth could sense that the boy was troubled, had sensed it yesterday, and now she knew why. "You should have told me," she said kindly, putting her hand on his thigh, near his dick. She was still tingling from the simply marvelous fuck the boy had given her. Her pussy still felt open and leaky, and deep up her, where her womb lay hidden, it was pleasantly aching from his thrusts.
"Rachel's a hot little girl," he said simply. "But when she started fooling with my dick, and I started messing with her, mama and I hadn't started. And Rachel, well, to me, at least, she just seemed a lot too young to fuck. Oh, damn it! I guess I'm mixed up, but when you live in a mixed-up family, how can you help it?"
The woman stroked his leg. "I suppose I should feel bad," she said, "taking a load from you that maybe you were saving up for your mom. But I just got so hot, thinking about you and your mother. I know her, you know," she said irrelevantly. "From the store. I always liked her. She's got character. I'll bet she likes it, too, and I'll bet she makes you like it."
"You're so right, Miz Cantrell," he said, blushing. "Maybe I oughtn't to talk about her like this, but she's, well, she's just super. You know, I'm supposed to be shy, because I don't run after girls. I don't have to. From the time I was first able to jerk my little old peter and make the juice fly, mom seemed to know it. Hey, you want to know something?" He was lost in reverie for a moment, no longer sad, then he spoke again.
"That time when Rachel came to the swimming hole and found me holding my peter-we were talking about it yesterday."
Elizabeth nodded, drawing a deep breath.
"Well," Tommy said, "mom was in the bushes, taking a little peepee for herself. She told me to keep it hard so we could finish, and that's when Rachel came along." He giggled. "It was real sweet of her, to decide that she had to 'help' me from then on. And she's a help, too, I got to admit it. Because my father's home almost every night and he's the one who bangs mom. Damn him!" The boy's voice was harsh.
"Well, Tommy, I really don't see your problem. I don't see, either, why you don't just go ahead and give Rachel a square deal. Equal time, you might say. You came twice yesterday, didn't you? Oh, three times, yes, that's right. And twice today. And unless I'm mighty mistaken, you could get it up again right now, if someone played with it, and let you play with them. Like me, for example."
She was smiling, but she was not kidding. She wanted to help this boy, too, but in a different way. And she knew, from her reading, and from listening to that old rogue, Sam Cantrell, that a man stayed virile only if he kept fucking as often as he could.
"Listen, Miz Cantrell," Tommy said earnestly, "I didn't mean you. You were so good to me, yesterday. Even if you didn't know it wasn't the first time I ever did it."
I'm just lucky you didn't know how ignorant I am, Elizabeth thought. Aloud, she said: "I thought it was odd that you know so much. About how to please a woman, I mean."
He blushed. "Well, you see how I'm in a bind," he said. "You know that Rachel's as hot as a mink. And mom, well, like I said, she needs me. So, if I get Rachel started, and maybe my pop leaves-which I wish he would!-won't I sort of be responsible if Rachel isn't getting enough? And goes out to screw every guy in Crosley County?"
They were pulling into a dirt road past a mail box with the legend: J. BRIGANCE. There were tall sunflowers along the narrow lane, and a house a hundred yards away. They could hear barking, and see dogs leaping in the fenced runways fronting clean, white kennels. Elizabeth stopped.
"Tommy," she said, "I think you're worrying too much about things that haven't happened yet. You remember yesterday-how mad you got when Rachel said you were jealous of your father? Or maybe I'm the one that said it. You're mixed up, like you said. But in a way that hurts you, your mother, your sister, maybe your dad."
The boy flushed and opened his mouth, but Elizabeth stopped him with a kiss. "Think about it, Tommy. Rachel has rights. If she needs a cock and you're not available, do you want her to suffer? And even if your dad leaves, which I don't think he will, you can't marry your mother, now, can you?" She laughed and squeezed his cock. "Go ahead and be a real boy. Have fun with lots of girls. And lots of old bags like me. And if ever your mom is in bed with your dad, and if Rachel's away with some other guy, you can always come over to my place and stick it in me."
His face had brightened, and when they pulled up by the dog trainer's front porch, he was laughing and had his hand on her leg.
Brigance was a big man with heavy features, a bushy beard, and a pair of fierce blue eyes. He wore a clean flannel shirt, faded denim slacks, and a pair of Wellington boots, somehow looking very dapper.
He showed them several dogs, among them an unusually large German Shepherd, black on top, light cream underneath. "He's not a guard dog yet," Brigance said. "He's about a week away. But he'll be a damn good dog by that time." He eyed the boy keenly. "You know anything about dogs?"
"Not as much as you," Tommy said. "But I know something about dog men. And I know you're not going to sell a woman your best dog, right off the reel. Not unless you have to." The kid grinned, sure of his ground, and the big man laughed.
"Okay," he agreed. "Maybe I've got a better one. Maybe I've got a couple of 'em. But who's to know if I sell the lady a bum? And what could she do about it?"
Elizabeth smiled at them both. "Tommy," she said, "thanks for protecting me. You're a wonderful guard boy. Now, go look in the trunk of the car. There's a camp icebox in there full of Cokes and a tray of sandwiches. Help yourself and go down by the creek. I know Mister Brigance won't cheat me. Sam Cantrell knew twelve of the best dog men in Crosley County. They would do a lot of talking if Mister Brigance took advantage of a poor widow."
She was trembling, and her palms were moist. This was the first aggressive act she had dived into since-well, she couldn't remember. And she was afraid of what the man might think. Or say. She expected anger, at least, but when she looked around, after Tommy had banged down the trunk of the car and left, he was looking at her with a broad smile.
"Got some guts, haven't you, chickie?" he asked. "Even a fucking tyrant like Sam Cantrell couldn't kill your spirit. Lady, I know what you went through. I knew Sam. I know his church. Here," he said, turning his back on her for a moment, "look at this!"
When he turned back, he had his cock in the palm of his hand. It seemed enormous to Elizabeth. She stammered and would have fallen, her knees went so weak, but he put an arm around her and held her. She hid her face on his cotton flannel shoulder, knowing she should scream, should slap his face, should threaten him with the police. But she could not. That cock had struck her dumb.
She stood where she was, seeing it again in the dark of her mind. Tommy had a big one. Very big, for a boy. Old Sam had had a huge one, or she had always thought so. The cock she had just photographed on her mind was bigger. And it wasn't even hard yet.
She felt Brigance's warmth against her, and all the heat in her body seemed to gather in her cunt. She whispered: "No! No! Put it back! Leave me alone!" But he held her to him, and now he ran one big hand down over the rounded strength of her ass, gently squeezing it in a way she knew would turn her to melted butter. So big and strong, so knowing. Holding the cheek of her butt, pulling it so that her ass cheeks separated and warm cunt juice ran down her inner thigh. "Please!" she groaned. "Oh, don't make me!"
They were a step or two from one of the outbuildings which dotted the big yard. Still with his arm around her, his hand holding her ass and seeming to lift her off the ground, he moved her toward it. She continued to moan "No! No!" and even tried to struggle, or thought she did, but he was crooning a coaxing little wordless order to her, and she had the sudden thought: I'll bet a cookie he trains dogs just this way!
Inevitably, her eyes swept the dark interior of the shed, wondering what sort of bed she would be fucked on. There was none, only a small stack of boards and some baled hay. Once again, following an old pattern of feminine habit, perhaps to show resistance, perhaps to insure the male's continuing, she tried to jerk away, crying: "Stop it! Stop! Let me go!"
But he lifted her so that she stood precariously on the boards, her back against the whitewashed board wall, and she could smell the rank maleness of his unwashed cock-and-balls in the silent heat of the little room. His cock was now hard, looking frightfully big, and he held her against the rough boards as if she were a rag doll, his big left hand around her arm, just at the armpit. In a methodical way, he unfastened the shoulder strap of her dress and yanked it down.
As her big breasts tumbled out, still hard-nippled and fuck-swollen from her marvelous session with Tommy's cock in the back seat of her car, he forgot his crooning, sucked in a deep breath, and said: "Ahhhhh! Beautiful!"
He used his other hand to scoop up one of the big, warm titties and put it to his wide, wetly shining lips, sucking almost half of it in, with painfully lovely results. She had never felt more helpless in her life, not even during her first nights of married fucking under the hammering prick of old Sam, and she tried to scream, but no sound came from her throat. In the meantime, in fearful anticipation of the potential pain from that huge cock, her cunt was convulsing inside, twisting as if it were trying to retreat up inside her guts.
With quiet precision, the big man, still sucking her throbbing breast, put his hand under her dress. It had a full skirt, and he made a sound of anger as his hand wrapped in it. He put his palm under her thigh and lifted, and she found herself spread open, one foot on a bale of hay while the other was on the boards. Only then did she realize she had been wondering how Brigance, a head taller than she, would be able to even try to shove that big thing into her while they were both standing.
She groaned: "Oh, oh, please don't! Oh, Mister Brigance, let me down," but her loins were moving, her traitor body and glands and slick-sweet cunt exposing the fact that she was dying for it.
She had put the skimpy panties back on, and expected the man to rip them off, but he simply pulled the thin strip of crotch material aside and went into her with his finger. To Elizabeth's surprised delight, it felt good. Hard-not too gentle-but very, very pleasant. Tommy's cock, her two orgasms, plus sitting on a hot and puffy-lipped cunt for thirty miles, had kept her juices stored inside her. She winced with pleasure as the enormous finger ran up inside her, twisting and turning, cleverly touching all the most sensitive points inside the squeezing mouth of her vagina.
"Good girl!" the big man whispered hoarsely, just as if he were encouraging a dog under training. "Juicy and nice! Hot and wholesome!"
The adjective struck Elizabeth as ill fitting, under the raunchy circumstances, but she was so hot by now that she no longer tried to pretend. She could not blurt: "Come on, you raping son of a bitch! Fuck me! I want you! I want your cock!" But the exact words were in her mind, and her body, her hips, lunged toward Brigance's cock, which sent up its throat-clogging aromas of lust, now that the thick foreskin had rolled back from the huge, heart-shaped purple head.
She worried about the crotch band of her panties, but he simply held it aside as he brought his cock to the trembling lips of her cunt, and she realized that the strained position, with one leg so high on the bale of hay, had opened her up as much as she could be opened. She only wished there were a mirror, so she could see it, see the slick and swollen inside of her outer lips as they were spread like a flower of purple-pink flesh, decorated with the red and lacy pattern of blood-filled veins.
And then the thick, hard pole started into her, and she found her voice as the lovely pain slugged her like a hard fist. And at the same time, all the heat that had started in her early, not quenched even by two hard orgasms with Tommy, and swept into flame by the sight of the big cock, its smell, the strangeness of her own feelings, the fantasy of rape acted out-all this joined in her panting mind and her pulsing cunt to make a hard, hot ball of lust that had to be lanced, had to be opened and brutally vented.
"OH, GOD!" she screamed as the hard fuck-stick ploughed into her tenderized vagina, past lips still trembling and eager from the hard but comparatively tender fucking with Tommy. "OH, GOD HELP ME! OH! OH! OH! OHHHHHH!" And she began to swing and bump like a marionette, feeling that she was held against the wall by that deep-impaling prick, a dancing doll skewered on a huge sword of hard meat and throbbing veins and masculine fuck-power. She felt it reaching depths she had not known she had, even her own weight joining with Brigance's strength and his big cock to thrust him and his pole deeper and deeper into her. Up to her liver, hurting against the tenderness of her bowels, of her rectum, and again, the extravagantly lascivious thought of a hard prick hurting and pleasuring her asshole made the red mist of lust brighter in her fuck-crazy mind.
She had begun to cum, it seemed, even before he poured that prick into her, stuffed her vagina full of it, stretched her bruised lips and hurt them with everlastingly glorious pain, the kind of loving ache that leaves women weak and happy with burnt out lust. But Elizabeth had reservoirs of sex madness of which she had never dreamed, even in the wildly hungry months when old Sam fucked her without satisfying her.
She could hear the big man's ragged breathing, she could smell the sweat in his damp hair and thick beard, and feel it stream down her own belly as she helplessly pumped her wildly spasming cunt back and forth on his cock. The heat of the boards, the heat of the sun beating down on the small shack and making an oven of it, all felt good to her bloated cunt, to her thighs wet with her cuntal fluids, to her ass still tingling from Brigance's hard and knowing grip.
"AAARRRGGGHHH!" she screamed in wordless, mindless heat, feeling the brutal, marvelous plunge of the powerful cock, the wet slap of his big balls against the sloppy-tender space between cunt and asshole.
She was limp from her own cumming, her pussy too tender to take any more, when the enormous cock swelled in her as if it had suddenly gone out of control. She let out a thin scream: "Aiiii! Aiiii!" as the first big load of hot sperm gushed into her, and then she fell limp, still trying to cum as the man's powerful jets of slick jism poured into her.
He held her, limp as she was, and fucked into her, uttering his own cries of lust and satisfaction: "OH, LOVELY FUCK! OH, LOVELY CUNT! AAARRRGGGHHH! UNHHH! UNHHH!" and fucking like a wild boar, as if he were trying to punch a hole through her body.
He must have been a strong man, unbelievably strong, because, even after his own gut-shaking orgasm, he could hold the limp but solid form of Elizabeth Cantrell up between him and the wall.
He was breathing hard, holding his belly against hers, but when she made a final, involuntary lunge of giving-and-taking, one last flutter of fuck-joy, her tightness squeezed his cooling dick out between her juiced and trembling lips.
They staggered together, and she regained control just as he did. He smiled down at her, seeing she was steady on the ground, not on the shaky pile of boards, and gave her another hearty squeeze on her ass. He said firmly: "Wait here!" and left.
In the house, he called to another huge shepherd, and let the dog smell and lick his cock, reeking from the cunt juice it had stirred up and drawn out of the woman's pussy.
A big-breasted, lazily smiling girl, dripping water as she stepped out of the shower, said: "You're selling her a fuck-dog, aren't you? Well, he's a good one." She knelt down and felt under the massive dog, looking up brightly at the trainer. "His cock's already out three or four inches." She stood up and looked at her hand, dripping a clear slime, smelled it, then licked it up.
"Man, he's ready," she said. "A real good fuck-dog."
The big man smiled. "You ought to know," he said.
When he led the dog out to the shed, Elizabeth, still shaken by the power of her own fuck-madness and this strange man's carnal confidence, was sitting on the bale of hay. Her thighs were spread wide because any pressure on her swollen cuntlips would, she felt, send her into the quick, bright shock of another orgasm. And she was suddenly aware that she had an enormous gift of sexual heat, perhaps as much as any woman ever had.
She had gotten her boobs back in the dress and it was modestly fastened on her shoulder, but the open thighs, and above all, the smell of lust which hung about her, told a story of fuck-lust that amounted to a marvelous kind of insanity.
The dog came over immediately and ran his big head between her thighs, lifting her skirt. His short, coarse hair rasped her tender skin, and startled her. But the man spoke swiftly.
"Don't do anything. Let him sniff you. He wants to know you, to know who his, uh, mistress is." He chuckled. "Used in its own particular meaning with a dog, of course."
The big dog backed away, wagging his tail and looking up at the trainer, and the man said: "He's taken to you. That's good. Otherwise, I'd have to get you another dog."
He walked her out to the car. "When you get home, hurry that guy who's putting up your fence. Coley, here, needs to have his territory understood. Until you've got a fence up, keep him in the house."
Tommy, from his perch on a big old grapevine swing, saw them at the car and slid down the vine. The man said: "Thanks for the business. Listen, the dog's guaranteed for life. If you ever need a word of advice or help, bring him down. Or I'll come up." He looked her in the eye and up and down. "You've got something pretty wonderful there, lady," he said. "As good as I ever had. Just wish we'd had more time. I'd like to suck all you've got right up and out of you." He ran his long, pink tongue out like a dog, and Elizabeth, her heart pumping so hard that she felt its beat in the thick lips of her pussy, reached and felt for his cock.
She squeezed it dreamily, smiling, and said: "I'll call you."
Going home, the dog sat in the car, dignified but interested. The boy, turning to look at the big animal every minute or two, said: "He's a damn good dog. Anyone could tell that. And they say that nobody handles dogs any better than Brigance." He giggled, then added: "Boy, this kind of dog sure has got some sort of cock! Wow! Look at it!"
Elizabeth, turning to look, almost ran the car off the road. The dog's big penis was a brilliant, wetly shining coral-red, pointed like a spear. As she looked, the dog calmly twisted to lick it, and the woman saw his long tongue, curling around the slick red meat, take up and swallow the drop of dog-juice on the tip.
She straightened the car out and held it straight. In front of this boy, who had fucked and sucked her, and whom she had, in turn, fucked and sucked, she felt oddly embarrassed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When they came to the place on the old highway where the dirt road led to Tommy's home, Elizabeth stopped. "We can go pick up Rachel if you like, Tommy," she said kindly. "Or you can come on home with me now, and we can come back later for her. Which would you like?"
He clung to the door handle, obviously torn between a number of options. "I better go in alone," he said. "I have an idea that our father's home. You know how he is about Rachel. I don't want anything bad to happen to her."
Elizabeth felt a mild flare of temper. "I thought you weren't going to be a dog in the manger, Tommy," she snapped. "If it's all right for you and your mother, why's it so bad for your father to want to give Rachel a little workout? Anyhow, why don't you ask her what she wants? It might surprise you!"
She drove off in a cloud of dust from the old road's shoulder, leaving the boy staring at her in disbelief. "She's out of her nut," he muttered. Why, shit, with him and mom, it was just mother-and-son love, nothing more. Mom trying to help him, him trying to make up to mom for having to live with a turd like paw. Well, he'd have to have a talk with Miz Cantrell. She was too nice a lady to let her go on thinking such damfool thoughts.
He approached through the green brush, warm with the summer day's sun, alive with the hum of small insects, the stir of breeze.
The old car wasn't in its accustomed place, which meant his father wasn't at home. "If he was home," the boy muttered, "he'd be lying in the hammock with a can of beer, or chasing the tail off Rachel." He thought of what Miz Cantrell had said. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember if Rachel ever had seemed shocked or horrified at the thought of their father getting into her. Had she or hadn't she? He went to the house and called her name, and then trotted down to the deep hole in the bend of Easter Creek. She just wasn't at home, that was all.
Elizabeth parked her car in the shade of a big tree and called to the dog to come out. Brigance had given her the few basic words and sounds needed to control and direct the dog, but still, she felt nervous being around the big animal. So, instead of saying: "Heel!" she just said: "Come on, Coley, let's go in the house and get a drink," and he came along readily.
She was surprised to see the lovely young sister of Tommy, sitting in her kitchen, her sweet mouth set in moody, pouting lines, her girlish hands clasped together on the table.
The girl got up and started toward her, but the big dog growled and got between her and Elizabeth, snarling, so that the well-built child quickly back up, impulsively covering her breasts with her forearms. "My God!" Rachel breathed, "He's scary!"
Elizabeth laughed and patted the dog's head. "Hold still," she told the girl. With a hand on the dog's collar, she touched the girl on the arm and said: "It's okay, Coley. This is a friend. Get it? Friend. Come on, boy, check her out."
Rachel stood without flinching as the huge brute came over, but she jumped when the dog jammed his nose between her legs. As he had with Elizabeth, he stood with his head under her short skirt, sniffing until he was satisfied, and then turned back to his new boss and sat beside her.
"What a dog!" the lovely girl whispered. "He touched my pussy with his tongue. Is he trained?" Rachel flushed. "I mean, is he trained to do that?"
Elizabeth smiled. "I don't know," she answered. "I hope so. I bought him as a guard dog. But a lady like me, unmarried, living alone, might need something more than being guarded."
"No fooling?" The girl's eyes were smoky. "You know, yesterday," she said, "Tommy was talking about a promise? I guess I told you, he never would really do much to me. Or let me do anything real with him, right? Well," and she giggled, "after I left you and went home, we got sort of into it, you know what I mean? And he said, if I ever found him a girl that he could suck, suck all he wanted to, that he'd let me suck him." She looked down, her lovely young face flushed, smiling dreamily. "So I thought of you. You already'd said enough."
Elizabeth touched the girl's perfect shoulder, curling her tongue out of her mouth. She remembered the taste of her pussy, so hot-making, so perfectly marvelous. Trying to control her voice, she said hoarsely: "That was very nice of you, Rachel. Very nice. So that's why Tommy let you suck him off? Nice for all of us!"
"For me, sure as hell," the young girl said devoutly. "Not just the taste of Tommy's fuck-juice. I already knew about that. Licked up all I could off my arms and hands and belly, after he'd shot off on me after I jerked him off." She blushed again, and Elizabeth thought she had never seen a human face more beautiful.
"It was having that big thing in me, in my mouth," the girl whispered. "My mouth was like a cunt, you know, like it could cum! Crazy, huh? But to feel the cock swell, and feel the jism shoot into me, and taste it, and you sucking me at the same time-wow! Too much!" She shook her head and looked up at Elizabeth.
"Miz Cantrell," she said, her face strained, "did you really mean it about wishing the dog was, uh, that he would, oh, hell, it's too much to say!"
Elizabeth looked at this girl she had known only a part of two days, but who seemed closer to her than any relative ever had. I know what she wants me to tell her, Elizabeth thought with a hot excitement churning in her pussy, throughout her guts. Well, why the hell not help the child? Be honest, be fair.
Very clearly, smiling at the tense child, she said: "If he wants to fuck me, I'll let him. If he wants to lick me, I'll let him."
Rachel's smile was pained. "I meant-more than that, Miz Cantrell," she said. "Would you suck him off if he'd let you?"
There was the familiar ring of her doorbell, and Elizabeth got up.
So did Rachel, looking stormy. The dog growled.
"Listen," Rachel said, "if that's Tommy, I don't want to see him. Or talk to him. I'm sore as hell at him and mom. Both. There's something icky going on. Geez, I wish I'd told you!"
The woman, whose fires of sensuality had never been turned off, even after the unbelievable fuck that Jeff Brigance had given her, shivered. "It must be him," she whispered. "Go in the downstairs parlor, that room on the right, up front. Shut the door. Take Coley with you. He likes you. Just tell him 'quiet' or 'sit' or 'lie down.' He'll mind you. And if it's Tommy, I'll take him upstairs."
As it turned out, it wasn't Tommy. It was a rather large boy whose face was familiar. He was sweating, and his blue shirt showed dark patches of wetness under his arms. Behind him was a dark, slender boy, also about the same age, which she judged to be seventeen or thereabouts.
"You Miz Cantrell?" the red-faced boy asked. "I'm Lex Gregoe and this, here, is Jorge Leyes. We work for Mister Lacey. Stringing fence." He stopped, and Elizabeth nodded. This was pretty fast service. Then, over the young man's shoulder, she saw something. A neat row of shining poles, of some silvery metal, across the front of her property. Incredible! She hadn't even noticed them when she had come in.
"Well, Lex," she said, "I must say, you two are fast workers."
"Ho! ho!" the hulking lad said, not quite a laugh, more like an acknowledgement of some important truth. "We got all the posts in for five-foot chain-link. We had four guys digging holes, and two mixing cement. And Mister Lacey came and got us started."
He peered into the comparative gloom of the hall. "Hey, you live here alone?"
The dark boy with the Spanish name smiled, and Elizabeth's heart turned over. To have young guys like this, interested enough to ask such a question. But as a matter of principle, woman against brutal-but-lovely man and his smart-ass ideas, she said coldly: "I have friends here at the present. And a very large, mean dog."
The boy's cool was unmarred. "Okay," he said. "Just a friendly question. We got to let the cement set. We'll come back tomorrow and string the fence. Won't take over four, five hours."
He turned as they heard a step on the old wooden steps, and said: "Hi, Tom! You doing some work for Miz Cantrell, too?" he turned to Elizabeth and said genially: "G'bye, Miz Cantrell. See you early tomorrow." And then, as he went past Tommy, he patted the younger boy on the arm and said: "How's your sister, baby? Haven't seen her since school let out." And the two were gone.
Once inside, Tommy looked at Elizabeth uncertainly. Remembering how she had left him, with a curt sentence that was more or less critical, the woman's heart went out to him. Knowing that Rachel was listening through the door, she said: "Come on upstairs, Tommy. We'll take some cold drinks. I want to ask you something."
In her big bedroom, with awnings down on the south side and a breeze moving her clean lace curtains, she hugged the boy impulsively, kissing him on the mouth, putting his hand on her breast.
There was a deep longing in her, a feeling that this might be a crossroads in their lives. She kissed him again, this time tonguing him gently, and began, without disengaging their mouths, to undo his shirt, then his slacks.
When she had her hand on his cock and felt its hard beauty, she whispered, "Now, baby, you undress me."
He lost his grave manner, and kissed her on her breasts as they jounced free from the bodice of the dress. Grinning, he said, "You sure know how to make a guy feel better. Listen, I'm sorry about today. Maybe you're right. Seeing those two cunt-heads just all of a sudden made me realize-it's not just paw, it's everybody."
With her mouth yearning for the feel and taste of his peter, the richness of his cum, Elizabeth steered him toward the bed.
As soon as they were lying down, he began to kiss her, all over her belly, licking up her perspiration, and, as she opened her legs wide, he mouthed the sweetly damp areas on her thighs, on either side of her -haired split, his teeth tenderly biting down on the big tendons, his tongue curling up and down in the hair. His mama must really be a good teacher, Elizabeth thought, barely choking back laughter, totally unwilling to say anything that would hurt this marvelously wise kid.
"That's so lovely, Tommy," she choked. "Oh, I want to suck you so much! To have you shoot your cum-juice in my mouth. Like yesterday, with Rachel!" Her guts seemed to coil in fuck-pain as the words left her mouth. She reached between his thighs and felt gently of his young balls. How wonderful for a boy, to be so hot!
She thought, with a wicked grin, of the remnants of the dog man's jism in her warmly ready cunt. It might restore some of his own spent sperm, for him to suck out the other guy's load. Nobody ever told me how much fun sex was supposed to be, she thought in a moment of bright anger, and followed with a prayer of gratitude that she was now able not only to explore it and enjoy it, but also be free to do so. She hunched her body, moving the boy more toward the center of the bed, getting her thighs open, holding on to his dick.
"I expect I'll be pretty gamy," she said, feeling wonderful. "Sitting on that load in all this heat. But man, I wish I could eat it myself!" She thought of Rachel, wondering at the child's expression of enmity toward "everyone." But before she could think of a way to quiz Tommy, the boy had his mouth between her fat cunt lips, and the force of his suction, bringing her vaginal walls and their quaking nerves together, sent her ass right up off the bed.
She clung to the boy's hair with both hands, her ass pumping up and down like a jackhammer, feeling his teeth bruise the flesh around her clitoris. Great waves of orgasm swept through her, and she let them roll, enjoying the joyously painful thudding of blast after blast of cumming. "Ohhhh!" she moaned, not willing to let go altogether, hoping she would cum many times before they were finished with this lovely suck-session. The deep thrust of cum-pangs seemed to flow up inside her, reaching deep into her chest, burning at her breasts, swelling them in beautiful heat.
When she came down, feeling rested and relaxed, but with a hard tingle of well-used nerves in her cunt, she released the boy's hair and laughed apologetically. "I was out of my mind with joy, Tommy," she whispered. "I must have half-scalped you!"
He rolled on his side and felt of his head. "When you shoot it, Miz Cantrell," he said, "you don't fool around. Wow!" and he licked his lips. "That sure tastes good!
She moved so that her face was near his smooth belly, near the damp bush of pubic hair around his throbbing young dick. "Let me suck him just a minute," she said, putting the beautiful peter in her mouth and wrapping her tongue around its hardness, sliding it up to caress the softly swelling head.
She came off it with a little slurping sound and said, holding it by the stem and looking up at him: "What did you mean, calling those kids 'cunt heads'? And what did it make you realize?" She felt she knew the answer, but she wanted clarification.
Tommy squirmed, smiled, and put one of his hands on the thick, soft lips of Elizabeth's cunt.
"Ever since Rachel's titties began to sort of stick out," he admitted, "it just seems like every guy that sees her gets a hard-on for her. And with having to worry about paw, too-well," and he shook his head, "I guess I've sort of taken on too much worry. Over what may be none of my business." He fucked up toward her. "What you said a while ago made me do some thinking. Did you mean I was being, like, well, a dog in the manger?"
She kissed all around the stem of his cock, licking up the sweet tastes of his young manhood, and ran her mouth down to his balls, sucking them in. She tongued them hard, making him jump.
When she released them and looked at him, she whispered, "I think you know the answer, don't you, Tommy?"
"It's hard to give up old ideas," the manly young boy said. "To figure it's okay for a man like paw to stick it in his young daughter's pussy. Or some lousy creeps like Lex Gregoe and that Mexican, Jorge Leyes. But, in a way," he grinned ruefully, "it's a matter for her to decide. But how can a girl decide," and his voice rose again in anger, "if one guy is holding her and another guy is fucking her?" His own cock throbbed at the idea, and the woman sucked on it again, giving him feelings of exquisite pleasure.
She moved her ass invitingly, and he began to stroke all around the softness, the sweetly moist skin around her split. He moved his body and one of her thighs so that he had free access to the glistening pinkness between the pouting, hairy lips. His tongue went out and he moved his face so that he licked up and down in the soft, smooth slickness. It excited him even more, and he twisted his loins so that his sensitive cock moved around in Elizabeth's mouth.
He was forgetting his worries about his sister in the pounding of blood through his own veins, the powerful need in his cockhead.
He could not help it, he felt the beat and the thrusting force of a new load of sperm bursting out of his balls and up through his prick, the most beautiful pain in man's experience, and he was lying so that all he could do, except for restricted movements of his loins, was to lie still and let this marvelous woman suck it out of him. He was on his side and his head under her thighs. She lay there with her cunt opening for him, too, and he plastered his young face deep in her flowing inner lips, content to caress her spasming cunt, to suck up the flow from her vagina, to revel in the total sensuality as they mutually pumped out their sexual fires.
Without a word, they slithered around so that their mouths could join, so that each could taste the raunchy, gamy delights of their own body fluids. And Tommy got part of Jeff Brigance's load, she thought with hidden pleasure. It gave her a strange stir of maternal feeling for them both. She sighed and her belly moved in delight as Tommy boldly squeezed her breast.
She kissed his ear. "What you asked," she whispered, "about a girl being forcibly raped, of course she couldn't decide then. But to get into such a position, she had to make a decision. And even if she hadn't, the real decision is and always has been, do I want to live and be a person? That's what you have no right to decide for her. Oooooh! she groaned in deep pleasure as a dying flutter of orgasm trembled far up in the juicy, dark folds of her cunt. "That felt so good to me! Your sweet mouth, sucking on me, your tongue driving into me, beating my poor little love button!"
She hugged him with deep fervor, his warm body pressing her titties so gloriously.
"And besides," she said, "those boys, young Gregoe and the Mexican boy, they've got rights, too. Wouldn't you like to take a crack at their sisters? If they have sisters?"
The boy snickered, rubbing his hand over her belly, enjoying the grown-up thrill it gave him, and then stuck his finger into the extremely tender flesh of her open pussy. "This is so good," he muttered. "And mom's so wonderful. And you know that I'm going to have to stick it in Rachel, or she'll hate me." He raised up on his elbow, looked at Elizabeth, and laughed. "If I do all that, when would I have time to bang their sisters?"
The sun was still high, but as he rolled over, he could see the numerals on her clock. It was after five. He got off the bed and went to where his clothes lay. He looked worried.
"Nobody was at home," he said. "Mom's working, but Rachel had no place to go. And Paw should have been home by now. Maybe I ought to go back and wait." He looked at Elizabeth. "What do you think I ought to do?"
With her mind alert and curious, thinking of the queer yearning in Rachel's mind, and her unquestionable desire to taste the sperm of the big dog, Elizabeth said: "Oh, yes, Tommy, by all means go home and check up. I'm sure everything's okay, but it's best for you to know, when you're worried."
She followed him down to the front door and watched him go off on his bike. She closed the front door and latched it. Then, without knocking, she opened the parlor door and went in. She came in upon one of the hottest sights she had ever seen.
The young girl was seated, naked, in an old-fashioned overstuffed chair. Her beautiful legs were on and over the arms, so that her softly rounded young butt was on the front edge of the cushion. Her fat-lipped cunt, its soft hair plastered down with wetness from the dog's saliva, was open and quivering. Her pink fuck-hole was hanging open, as if she had cum over and over. Her tender and girlishly firm breasts, so large for a child of twelve, were bigger than ever, and blue veins stood out in a startlingly clear pattern on their curving outer slops.
Her eyes were closed and she was smiling, but, just as Elizabeth stepped in, and the dog's long, pink tongue shot deeply up the sagging vaginal opening, Rachel cried out weakly and her hands fluttered like the wings of a captive bird.
Elizabeth, her heat shooting up like sparks from a bonfire, moved to the dog's side and knelt, her hands feeling under his shaggy belly. He growled, but kept on with his licking, and the woman whispered: "Quiet, Coley! Keep quiet, you!"
Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and her overworked pussy, hardly able to consider another sexual mauling whether by finger, tongue, or cock, cramped inside her in reflex and painful response. And now that she was close to the girl's exposed genitals, she could see that all the surface membrane was far too red, looking as if it must be more pain than pleasure for the girl. Nevertheless, she remained on her knees, feeling in the thick coarse hair, until she had grasped the incredibly long, thick cock of the animal. Only then did she notice that a few drops of some yellowish, opaque fluid, much thicker than human seed, clung to the girl's lips and chin.
The big dog-he must have really been charged with semen-responded quickly to Elizabeth's touch. In her first grasp of his red plunger of meat, when one hand had slipped in the jismy slickness of the red spear, and the other had buried itself in his deep piled hair, she had realized he was very, very hot, dangerously ready, primed to bite a chunk out of anyone who would try to deprive him of his pleasure. And, since his hard-on was based, obviously, on the excitement of licking a human female's pussy, to interfere with that pleasure would be to invite potential disaster.
In a hard and fast movement of her right hand, which was on the sheath of hairy flesh over the long cock, Elizabeth jerked and frigged at the huge canine penis. She could feel the two swollen glands that form the "dog knot," that acts when two dogs are mating and get hung up. The thought of these two big glands buried in her own soft and tender cuntal opening gave her a swirl of fuck-craziness that almost choked her.
At the same time, she spoke coaxingly to the dog: "Come on, Coley! Stop! Stop it, Coley!" And then, as the dog kept licking, she put her hand on the inner part of Rachel's thigh and said: "Wake up, Rachel! You hear me? Close your thighs and get this damn dog out of your cunt! Come on, both of you!"
The girl opened her eyes and Elizabeth could see that the child was half-blind with passion that had been built too high and exploded too often. Her mouth sagged open and spittle ran over her lower Up, but she grinned in a dim-witted fashion. "Big doggie! Nice doggie! Suck Rachel out, nice doggie!" And her beautiful young body went through a sort of convulsion.
At the same time, the dog growled menacingly at Elizabeth, baring its fangs as its tongue went up and down the girl's reddened channel, and in and out of her sloppy cunt-hole. If I could only get him away from her, Elizabeth thought. Get his attention. She thought of her own pussy, wishing it were still full of old cum and her own rank and gamy storage of drying juice. But she knew that Tommy had cleansed it of all female odor with his boyish sucking.
With a groan of protest that was half horror, half lust, she got on her back and pushed herself under the shaggy beast. There was a rank, thick odor of animal lust as she looked upward, the big red cock, gleaming with its natural slime, an inch from her lips. The stick was of wet dog hair, of canine semen, of heat and desire, and it made Elizabeth's stomach turn, just as it made her mouth water. In her heart, she realized she had wanted this to happen, wanted some good excuse for it, ever since she had looked back in the car and had seen the dog tongue up his leaking drop of dog-cum. But how queer, how frightening!
She took her grip again on the loose skin over the hard rod. If he rammed that enormous thing all into her mouth, it might split her throat, or choke her. But her inner passion, the rankly animal curiosity she felt, overcame any fear or disgust. She did close her eyes, but she opened her mouth to lick the cock and get used to its taste. But by some quirk, most likely her own action, it went right into her mouth and down her throat.
For just a moment she thought she might throw up. The smell and taste were both so much stronger than Tommy. But she also remembered the rankness of old Sam's unwashed cock, although she had never tasted it, and the hard male aroma which had swelled up from Jeff Brigance's crotch.
And I would gladly have sucked him, she said in her mind. Especially after he fucked me. But she had little time to think.
She had worried about the pointed shape of the dog's prick. Was the point hard? Would it hurt her? And the odd shape of the circumference of it. As if it were on some sort of knuckled frame. Like the neck of a turnkey. The thought made her clench her cunt muscles in quick response. It felt so wild, so strange, and yet somehow so satisfying, having this preposterous cock in her mouth, to be lashing it with her tongue, to be jerking on the sleeve of skin and fur so furiously.
If the dog truly had host its seed into the sucking mouth of the young girl-and Elizabeth, even in her blaze of fuck heat, could reason that it must be so-nt had quickly recovered. Either that, or the act of licking a cunt and being sucked off and frigged at the same time must have been almost unbearably erotic.
She had seen male dogs fuck for half an hour before blasting their sperm into the engorged cunt of a bitch in heat. But perhaps the cunt of a female dog did not give his penis the same activity as a hard, licking tongue. And of course, no female dog ever in life had reached back to jerk a dog's hairy foreskin compellingly up and down on his redly swollen prick.
She heard the dog make a harsh, grunting sound, heard the girl scream, and then she was nearly choked with gush after gush of a strong, thick fluid, more acrid than any man's blandness, more powerful than any man's spurts.
She tried to scream, too, since the wildness of it all, plus the sudden stab of her own fingers across her ranting clit, plucked a new stab of orgasm from her buried centers of feeling. She felt the dog back away, and she threw an arm across his strong and hairy back, holding him so that the quivering penis remained in her mouth. It was far down her throat, and she would have let it go in another minute, but the strange desire in her made it a necessity to hold him to her, sucking gently.
She heard the girl's voice cry out: "Oh, Miz Cantrell! What have we done?" She felt soft hands along her ribs, under her titties, trying to pull her loose from the hard-muscled dog's body. Then she released her hold and rolled on her side as the big animal, puzzled and panting, curled up on the floor, licking his red dick.
The two women, one forty-two, the other thirty years her junior, clung to each other. Rachel kept her thighs apart; when she squeezed them together, the fiery itch of too much licking, too much cumming, made her young ass feel so loose that she felt in danger of urinating on the floor. She was sobbing. "I never saw anything like it, so wild, so sweet! He was killing me with that tongue! I couldn't move! I seemed to cum until it felt like I would burst or die or something!"
She was crying real tears, now, and they were falling on Elizabeth's naked breasts. The woman was shaken, but for some reason she didn't understand, she felt no shame or guilt. Life was to be lived. Sex was to be enjoyed. If she had been angry at the world for depriving her of a knowledge of sex, she could now forgive those who had restrained her, and thus forgive herself.
She patted the girl tenderly on her shrinking cunt.
"Come upstairs," she whispered. "I'll put some medicated cream on you. God! You're so red! How long had that old hairy villain been licking on you?"
The girl, no longer weeping, kissed Elizabeth on the mouth. "It seemed like all day," she said. "Whew! What a way to go! His prick must be twice as long as Tommy's! I wonder what it'd be like to have it stuck in me? I couldn't take it!"
They struggled to their feet, and Elizabeth laughed. What a day this had been! It was as if her guardian angel, no doubt a feminist, as irked with Elizabeth's unfair sex treatment as her ward, had plunged her into a bath of sexuality, of love of every randy, raunchy pattern. She suddenly felt strong, proud, more her own mistress than ever in her life. If shame came later, if she fell into some damned pit of guilty reaction, she would have to remember that she had some rights.
And Tommy, badgered by his quarreling instincts as he carried on incestuously with his mother, and pined for the sweetness and youth of his sister's nubile body-he had his rights, too.
She and Rachel went up the stairs together, holding each other in a supportive embrace, while the puzzled dog lay on a throw rug, whining and licking his red cock, which still kept most of its threatening size. He had never had two bitches in one day, so close together, especially not two of these pale, hairless ones.
CHAPTER NINE
After Elizabeth had carefully and tenderly soaped the young girl in the big shower off her pretty bedroom she gave Rachel the softest washcloth she owned.
"You must be licked raw down there, darling," she said in a low voice. "That big beast was making your body jerk with every lick of that horrible tongue!" She shuddered violently, thinking how that unstoppable caress might feel if she were the victim.
To her surprise and delight, Rachel giggled. She also ran the sudsy cloth between her fat young cuntlips and, although she moved in a slight jerk, she washed her pussy.
"After a while," she said, "I got so I couldn't move. But maybe I didn't want to!" She, also, shuddered, and closed her eyes at the memory of that long, practically unceasing orgasm she had enjoyed from a brute beast. "Oooooh, that devil! But was he good!" She squeezed Elizabeth's titties into two cones and bent to suck one in. "It would be so crazy-great to sixty-nine with him!"
She dried off, then sat in Elizabeth's satin slipper chair in much the same position she had employed with the dog, opening her sore little pussy for the older woman's ministrations.
"Oh, that feels so great!" she whispered, as Elizabeth's soft fingers gently laid the soothing cream along her inflamed inner lips. "Somehow, it's almost sexy!" she gasped. "But I guess anything will feel sexy to me for a while. Anything that touches my pussy, I mean." She shivered eloquently. "Wow! Maybe I ought to feel horrible, going down on a dog! But Geez, Miz Cantrell, he was so big! And so, well, sort of sweet!" She giggled. "I guess I'm still a little bit out of my gourd," she said. "I must sound crazy."
Elizabeth kissed the child on her smooth belly, just above the puff of brown hair, now dried and standing out, soft and wavy.
"Pooh!" she said. "I don't think we have a right to be so hard on ourselves. We live by a lot of rules we don't ever take time and thought to question. And we should question them!"
She rose to her feet and paced back and forth on the carpet.
"Why do we think it's so horrible for boys to play with other boys' cocks? Or to suck them? Or to have the other boy shove his dick into the first boy's rectum?" She shook her fist, laughing.
"I know, I know," she said. "It sounds like I'm trying to justify what you and I did. Licking and sucking like we did. Well, the hell with it! I think my own pussy is sweet and nice and good. What's so wrong if I think yours is sweet and nice and good, too? Good enough to eat? And that's not all!"
She stopped by the young girl, who patted her on her warm ass.
"Our parents, our churches, our sissy goddamned teachers and preachers-anything that's fun, they hate and fear. Isn't that right? Where did I hear that before?"
"My mama said it," Rachel answered, wrinkling her forehead. "She's great, all right. But I'm mad at her! And Tommy, too!"
Elizabeth dropped on her knees again, between the round, firm thighs of the girl, spread so invitingly. There was a little pool of the child's cunt juice in the hairs of her pussy, on the chair. To Elizabeth, it seemed to exemplify the sweetness, the generosity of the girl. It also seemed to be the key to all that was troubling the Burke family. Sex and its hang-ups.
She hugged the child warmly and said: "What you need is to be more open with each other. I know what's bothering you. You've found out that Tommy is screwing your mother. Isn't that right?"
The child answered with a flurry of racking sobs. And the older woman, aching with sympathy, said: "I've had a talk with Tommy. He's been worried about you. And about other guys that, uh, want you. That want to get into your sweet little pussy. And I think he's mixed up about you and your dad, too."
Rachel had ceased to sob, and sat up straighter. "Other guys?" she asked, and there was genuine interest in her voice. "What do you mean, other guys?" She giggled. "Or rather, whom do you mean?"
Elizabeth stood up. Her face was cleared of worry. "That's more like it," she declared.
"Tommy's going to be more understanding, I think. I had a good talk with him, only today. He told me about himself and your mom. And his jealousy toward your father. It's based on both his love for your mother, and a sort of misguided feeling that he needs to protect you."
The young girl looked thoughtful, the sweetness of her nature evident in her expression. "I certainly don't want anyone to be unhappy because of me," she said. But she looked at Elizabeth out of the corners of her eyes and asked again: "What guys were after me? The ones that Tommy was talking about." She got to her feet, took a step, and stopped, looking pained. "I'm still sore from that dog," she complained. "Ooooh!" and she put her hand down to her pussy. "I'm so tender, I think I'd cum if I tried to walk twenty feet."
Elizabeth put an arm around the girl protectively. "Bend over," she advised. "And spread your legs just a little. The cream I put on is supposed to have a little anesthetic action. You should feel okay in a couple of minutes. But you'd better forget about any guys, I think, baby. At least for tonight." She laughed, but she was just a bit put out by Rachel's attitude. One minute, crying and emotionally crippled because her brother, a boy she wanted, was banging his mother. The next minute, aroused by the fact that some boys, purely hypothetical as far as she was concerned, were said to be after her pussy.
Perhaps it's only me, Elizabeth thought to herself. I've had a crazy couple of days, myself.
To compose herself, she went downstairs, picked up a pair of soft drinks, and went back to where Rachel was sitting. The girl gladly accepted a Coke, and then said: "I got up and walked a little while you were away. You're right, that salve helped me. I think I maybe ought to take off for home. It's going to be dark pretty soon." She giggled. "And we don't want old Tom to worry himself too much about what happens to his little sister, right, Miz Cantrell?"
They only spoke of minor matters while the girl dressed, and when she left, they gave each other perfunctory pecks on the cheek. After all that had happened, their closeness, the wild things shared, it seemed rather peculiar to Elizabeth.
She remembered the dog, locked in the front parlor, and went to let him out. She had gone from a woman immersed in sex to one who was now shackled by old ideas. Fears of the world, of herself, of everyone she knew. Even Tommy and Rachel. And with reason.
She had lived "respectably" all her life, a highly regarded member of the community. Of a good family, with no scandals; then married to Sam Cantrell, a well-to-do citizen. If Sam's total following of his church seemed strange to her, it probably wouldn't to the rest of the town. Each religion had its own oddities, anyone would have told her.
She shuddered as she looked at the dog, who watched her carefully out of his big, amber eyes. I committed an act of sexual perversion on an animal, she told herself. Until yesterday, she had never had a man's penis in her mouth. Barely in her hand, for that matter.
She began to think of what could happen to her if either of the two Burke kids decided to confide in their friends. It made her almost physically sick to contemplate. Not just gossip and being ostracized by the good people of Bonville. Criminal action. Contributing to the delinquency of minors. Perverted acts.
The dog came up and nosed under her full skirt. His warm breath touched the sensitive skin on her inner thighs, and she leaped away from him, staring wildly. "Down, you brute!" she cried. "Heel, or sit, or get the hell out of here!" She could not remember the key words given her by Jeff Brigance. And, remembering the very cool, confident way he had dragged her into that shed of his, and raped her, he must have known what a sex-mad, middle-aged old fool she was.
She at least remembered her humanity enough to open a couple of cans of dog food which Brigance had given her, feed the dog, and let him run out in the yard.
But she had no appetite, and went upstairs to bed, lower in spirit than at any time since she had been widowed.
She did put on a shorty nightgown, a garment which always pleased her because she thought she had good legs, and, by showing them right up to the hanging fringe of hair on her cunt, it had seemed to her that she looked sexy. It was, of course, another way of telling her deceased husband that she was no longer under his control. But it only reminded her that she was over forty, getting on for middle age, and that every such foolish thing as this that she did, the more certain she was to look ridiculous. Which was a shame, really, because her legs were most admirable, and her age sat very lightly on her.
At last, wearing a high-necked, opaque nightie that came to her ankles, and only after taking two tranquilizers, she fell into a restless sleep, beset by dreams that unpleasantly reminded her of all her guilt feelings.
In her recurring dream, she saw the reddened cunt of young Rachel hanging open, and either it enlarged or she became small, because she wandered into it. All the clear cum goo was there; in fact, it was up to her knees, but she could not stand the smell of it, although it was the same warm, natural aroma she had loved.
While she was quakingly wandering in the soft-walled passageway with its drippingly pink walls, the light was shut off and she turned to see that the entire cave was closed by some convex, huge thing with one eye that moved inexorably after her. It was shiny and threatening, its single slitted eye horrible as a Cyclops, and she screamed and ran. But, as usually happens in dreams, her screams stuck in her throat, and when she tried to run, she fell down.
It was just then that she heard, far away and unreal, Rachel's panicky voice, screaming, "Oh, cum, darling! Shoot it into me, baby! Let me have your jism!"
It was frightful, but worse was to come. For, when she tried to scramble up the slippery walls, she looked back and saw a huge stream of white stuff, shooting out of that slit, which had enlarged and was strained by that awesome charge of juice which was surely going to engulf her.
She awakened, her throat aching from the strain of screaming, and shaking all over from the fright of drowning. To make it worse, she was covered by a film of sweat. It was a hot night, and the old-fashioned nightgown had been too heavy. Although she had not, of course, been slicked down by the jet stream of semen which she had dreamed, she was slippery with her sweat.
She dreamed much the same dream again, although this time the cock that came in and threatened her was bright-red and pointed, so she knew it was the dog's. But this time, too, she heard the girl's cry: "Oh, fuck me, darling! Oh, Coley! Shoot that big load up my snatch!" And once again, the dream-Elizabeth, in a sex-mad panic, had to flee before a slow-motion squirt of cum-goo that was thicker and darker than the one before.
This time, when she awakened, she thought she could smell the arousing but disgusting scent of dog-cum. She jumped out of bed in a spasm of fear as she saw something huge and dark slinking around the room. Almost dead from fear, she turned on her bedside lamp and saw that the threatening shape had only been her new dog. And, she told herself, he had probably sensed her nervousness, and had only come upstairs from the back porch to see that she was all right.
It should have comforted her, this evidence of ESP from a dumb beast that almost matched the mental telepathy she shared with Rachel. But, on the contrary, it infuriated her. She was truly drugged with exhaustion, both physical and emotional, and she was also anesthetized mentally by the pills she had taken.
Dimly, she remembered the reality of having sucked this big animal's penis until he had shot his staggering load of dog-sperm into her gullet. For a moment, the raw pleasure of it surged in her, stimulating every nerve in her genitals, but then the awful weight of fear and guilt came back to crush her. She was a little girl, intimidated by parents, teachers, church rules. And even the remembered adventure with that lover of long ago could do no more than add to her inner tortures.
But she did actually smell the dog's semen, at least she believed she did, so she got up and coaxed him downstairs again, and on to the back porch. It was a big, screened-in room with a stout outer door, the bottom half being of wood. She saw that Coley had water, and dragged herself back to her anguished sleep. But just as she was getting into bed, something strange happened. Her telephone rang.
Irritably, she glanced at her dressing table clock, and was amazed to see that it was not midnight, as she had thought, but only a minute or two after ten. Still, such a thing had never happened to her before, and she was almost afraid to answer the phone.
Later on, she had reason to be grateful that she had. It was a message that came to her at the right moment.
"Hello. Miz Cantrell?" It was a heavy, musical voice, vaguely familiar. "This is Brigance. You know," as she gasped and remained silent, "the dog man. Hello! Are you there?"
She managed to say "Yes!" in a strangled voice, but she was baffled as to the reason for his call. He had held her like a rag doll and raped her with no more thought than if she had been a slave or a robot. But she was too weak, too low in spirit, to be able to muster any anger. So she only said: "Yes. It's me." And she added, apologetically, "Coley's all right. I'll have a fence for him, tomorrow."
When the man exploded. "Oh, fuck Coley!" and began to laugh, she was so surprised that she laughed, too, and some of her sanity came back. It wasn't a rape at all, she suddenly realized. She had something the man wanted, and something about her had told him so. Something about her had also invited him, just as the aroma of a bitch dog in season invites male dogs for miles around. Whatever that something was, that sixth sense or aura or subtlety of aroma that says, "I'm ready, baby. It's okay. Come on." was nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, it was something to feel good about, to be proud of. And all of this strange realization flashed through her mind in a split second. Her voice almost stroked the telephone as she spoke again.
"Well, I may do that, later on," she said, and giggled like a schoolgirl. "But only if he behaves. After all, I hired him to watch the house, not for anything more personal."
Brigance's laugh this time was softer, warmer.
"I've been worrying about you just a little," he said. "I wouldn't shame you by apologizing for what happened today. But I had to make sure that I didn't, well, what do I say? I had an odd sort of flash that seemed to come from you. Know what I mean?"
Elizabeth, rendered human again by this odd tribute, answered with some spirit, "You're trying to say that I egged you on! Right? I didn't, you know. I was absolutely petrified when you, well, took hold of me. But you say you worried? That's very nice."
Brigance's voice was amused but respectful. "I guess you don't even know it, Miz Cantrell. What you do to men. Or maybe you don't want to know it. A nice, high class woman like you. I don't think I'm getting through to you. It's obvious that, at least, you don't hate me. That's something. I did come on pretty strong. But again, I won't say I'm sorry. I think you're wonderful!"
His voice had a tone of finality to it, and Elizabeth, now feeling the same guilt-free spirit she had known, regretted it. So she acted instinctively. "Hold on," she said quietly. "I said I didn't egg you on. I meant I didn't do it intentionally. Now that I think back on it, if I had the chance again and knew how to do what you say I did-oh, dear! does that make sense?-I'd do it again. You didn't frighten me, not really. You frightened a dumb little girl and a dumb big girl and a dumb woman who never listened to her instincts, but only to what other people told her. Now, Mister Brigance, do you know what I mean?"
The big man laughed, comfortably. "I read you, Miz Cantrell, loud and clear and pretty. It sounds like maybe you needed me. Or someone like me. I'm damn glad. And listen-remember I said you had something pretty wonderful? I think so more than ever. And it's not just a beautiful female body or a lovely cunt." The good, strong, Anglo-Saxon word sounded rich and sweet in the woman's ears.
"What, then?" she asked.
"You have guts and kindness and good sense," Brigance said with quiet force. "You're a good person. As well as a good fuck!"
She felt her face burn, but she was delighted, more than she would ever be able to say. She had something. The man said so. Something wonderful.
He'd said that, too.
It was sweet and wonderful to have a man like Brigance say so. And mean it. But it had an even more beautiful implication.
"I have something," she said aloud. "I have it. Me. Elizabeth Cantrell. It's mine. IT'S MINE!"
The scream welled out, brazen, loud, happy, in the quiet neighborhood. "It's mine, and only mine, and I can use it any way I want to," she said in a strong and happy tone.
She jerked off the ugly, unattractive nightgown and picked up the sheer, short little bit of froth that showed her legs off so well. She held it up to her and looked in the mirror. She laid it aside again and looked at her bare body. It looked good. And it, too, was hers. Hers to do with as she liked.
"Thank you, God, for people like Jeff Brigance, that rogue!" She was smiling, and she'd never been more sincere in her life.
CHAPTER TEN
By rights, considering her self-torturing guilt-and-fear attacks, the terror of her nightmares, and the flood of reaction brought by the dog man's call, Elizabeth should have been unable to sleep. But there was something so warm and relaxing about Jeff Brigance's call, and her bodily and mental response to it, that she immediately fell asleep, naked, leaving both her sweat-soaked nightie and the revealing shorty gown on a chair. The warmth of summer protected her; her sleep was deep and dreamless.
True, she awoke sometime in the dark quiet of the night with the pressure of a full bladder, but there was something so warm and human about sitting on the toilet and relieving herself that it gave her a little shiver of pleasure. All of the sweet and intricate apparatus of reproduction, function, and fun were still sensitive after the events of the last two days, so that the expelling of a stream of warm piss was a nice little thrill. And since, as every woman knows, the muscular contractions used in the finalizing of a pee are the same as when an enraptured cunt flutters and squeezes on a cock-or a caressing tongue-there was a mild but delicious enjoyment in that humble act.
But she had a strange awakening.
She heard it first as if in a dream. A small voice crying: "Hey, Miz Cantrell! Help!" And then, as she struggled up through layer after layer of sleep, it came louder, clearer: "MIZ CANTRELL, PLEASE! HELP! HELP!"
In a haze of half-awake confusion, and with the voice seeming to be just outside her bedroom window, which was preposterous, Elizabeth snatched up the first garment at hand, which happened to be the ultra-short, see-through nightgown. As she pulled it over her head, the pleading voice came again. Definitely, the plea for help came from outside her second floor window.
There was a balcony along the side of the house, and the windows were, in fact, French doors, so she stepped out, still not completely awake, onto the small porch.
Just below her, desperately hanging to the fork of a big old elm tree that shaded her windows, was the heavy-shouldered youth who had rung her bell yesterday. Lex Gregoe, wasn't that his name? All that she remembered clearly was his evident ownership of abundant life and virility, his sharp, clean male smell.
Below him, there was the big dog, Coley, whose snarls, while low in volume, were deadly in intent. Every few seconds, the dog would gather his haunches into knots of muscle and leap, in frightening intensity, as high as he could toward the hanging figure of the big boy. Each time, as the terrorized youth drew himself up as far as he could go, the hot breath of the ferocious animal must have touched his broad, tightly-clad ass, for each time, the boy screamed again.
His arms were tiring, and the tree and its fork were too big for him to swing and get his leg over the big limb to safety. He looked at the suddenly appearing woman as at a guardian angel, and his voice weakly cried, "Oh, God, Miz Cantrell, please help me!"
Elizabeth leaned over the balcony rail, unaware or uncaring that her warm, wet, sleep-swollen cunt was so plainly visible. She waved an arm at the dog and shouted: "Coley! Quiet, damn you! Stop it! Sit! Sit, damn you!"
Her voice, established yesterday as that of his owner-as well as a strangly motivated friend-gradually got through to the animal. He was, like most well trained guard dogs, schooled to look and sound more vicious than he actually was. So that, in fact, his emotions were less violent than they appeared to be.
In fact, when he sat, looking up at his mistress fondly, knowing he had done his job, his big, heavy tail was wagging. And, when Elizabeth said, "Go back, Coley! Go in the house," he obediently arose and trotted toward the rear of the big home. "All right, Lex," the woman said kindly, "you can slide down."
She had stepped back from the balcony rail, and now she realized why the big boy, his arms still desperately clutching the tree, was staring. At her own level, he would have seen all of her fine legs, with perhaps one or two stray cunt hairs hanging below the hem of her nightie. But now, holding precariously to a limb three feet lower than she, he could look up directly into the pink, warm crevice of her twat.
She felt a slight rush of giddy blood throughout her body, and a strange sense of wonder that a man, so recently saved from the attack of a strong and vicious dog, could not take his mind from the sweetness, the comfort, the rewards of a warmly living pussy.
He let go his hold and dropped to the ground, his weight bringing a "whoosh!" of breath from him, and it was then that Elizabeth saw the other boy, the slender, dark Jorge Leyes. And her warm and sympathetic heart went out to him.
He must have escaped the first rush of the dog, but not entirely. When Lex had raced for the tree, the Mexican boy had, as her first guess, dodged the dog and made a run for the stacks of chain-link fence wire. He was lying on top of it, holding his right arm with his left hand, and watching a bright stream of blood drip down across his palm and off his fingers.
Elizabeth cried, "Help him!" and dashed inside for the stairs. By the time she had gotten to the porch, the Gregoe boy had pulled his co-worker down from the pile of wire and the two were walking across the lawn. "Thank God!" the woman said. "He's not hurt too much!"
She insisted that both boys come upstairs where she had more first aid supplies, and she totally forgot the fact that her very admirable femaleness was covered only by a very sheer, very short garment. But the boys did not forget it.
They were behind her on the stairs as she hurried before them, and as her softly muscled ass cheeks moved in counterpoint, they could see the richness of her cunt, the thick lips pulling this way and that with each step up, and the pink inner lips, shiny with her cunt goo.
As it turned out, poor Coley was innocent. Young Leyes had gashed his forearm as he scrambled up the rolls of fencing. The cut was not deep, just a ragged, ugly wound that bled profusely. When it had been sprayed with an antiseptic, and bandaged with gauze and tape, however, he remained on the bed, and put out a hand to Elizabeth as she knelt by him.
"Oh, thank you, Miz Cantrell!" he groaned. "At least the bleeding's stopped. But can you get me to a doctor? Mister Lacey brought us this morning, and we don't have wheels."
Behind Elizabeth, the Gregoe boy spread his hands and raised his eyebrows, but young Jorge closed his eyes, made a fumbling clutch at his crotch, and moaned in anguish.
The tender-hearted woman grabbed his hand. "What is it?" she asked. "Where are you hurt? I'll get a doctor here!"
The boy's dark head rolled on the pillow. No! No!" he grated. "I don't think it's that bad. Is there any blood?" and he opened his strong, slender thighs, showing the imprint of a large male organ and a thundering big pair of balls out-lined by the fabric. Elizabeth's breath became faster.
"It's in my groin," the boy said brokenly. "I don't know how bad it is. But it's hurting me!"
"Just a minute," Elizabeth said huskily, all efficiency. "If it's a cut, we have to bandage it. Let me see!"
With skillful fingers, she unfastened his belt and the flat hook of his jeans. She pulled the zipper down, the pungent scent of a male crotch, warmed by hard work under a summer sun, and not too recently bathed, swept up to her nostrils, almost crazing her with lust. She looked around at Lex Gregoe and snapped: "Get me a towel from the bathroom!" and inserted one smooth, warm hand into the darkness of the enclosing slacks. When she felt the size of his cock, her heart thudded, and she quickly brought it out. In another tender movement, she brought his balls out, loving the way they felt in her hand, their wrinkled skin, their stubby hairs, the dampness of boyish crotch-sweat.
To help her with whatever she had in mind, the boy raised his hips, and Elizabeth, acting automatically, reached under him to pull his Levi's and shorts down over his lean hips, along his thighs.
She had held his cock in her left hand all this time, and, as she felt a ripple of feeling throb in it, and saw the head peeping out from his thick foreskin, she licked her lips in avid lust and raised the big tool, sucking it deep into her mouth.
At the same time, she ran her other hand up and down on the inside of each thigh, caressing him with a firm pressure, and a dawning appreciation of these two tough kids swept her as the Mexican did not flinch.
She heard the other kid, the broad-shouldered blond, come into the room, and she took the cock out of her mouth. "Pull his pants off, quick," she ordered. "I think he's badly hurt. We have to help him!"
She was sitting with her bare, smooth rump on her naked heels, feeling the warm air in the room play in the sensitized hairs on her cuntlips, and she choked back a laugh as Lex tugged his partner's Levi's down. Both boys were silent, neither of them yet understanding the implications of what was happening. If there was some sort of trouble they could get in, neither of them wanted it.
"Oh, I think he's hurt himself. This thing seems to be swelling!" the woman cried, and once again she went down on Jorge's cock, now hard and reaching toward her mouth at an angle. It's taste was as delightfully man-like as any woman could have wanted, and as she pushed the thick foreskin back with her lips, her tongue picked up little semi-solid lumps of some cheese-like substance. Smegma! she thought rapturously. There was a raunchy scent, a hard, masculine savor as she went all the way down, burying her nose in the dense tangle of black pubic hair. But now the Mexican boy had lost his nervousness. His body relaxed, his slender hands held her head as he fucked up deeply into her throat.
But she had not lost her awareness in all this quick rush of lust. She was deeply tickled at the boldness of the slim Mexican, and now she wanted to put Lex at ease. And to work. So she pulled her head away, laughing, and slapping at Jorge's bobbing cock.
"Shame on you, both!" she cried, looking around to where the big Gregoe kid stood, his big prick straining out painfully against his tight work pants. "Taking advantage of a poor, homely old widow like this!"
The big boy gulped, his face redder than ever, but Elizabeth's tone was so bright, her smile so merry, that he realized he had nothing to fear.
He swaggered toward her, thrusting out his crotch. His hands were at his belt buckle, and the woman ran his zipper down just as he got himself freed from the cincture around his waist. She looked up at him, seeing the intensity of his young passion, and said: "Show it to me, big boy, and I'll show you how to suck a banana!"
He pushed his slacks and shorts down, letting his cock stand up straight and hard. He had had a lot of pussy in his short life, but he had never made it with a grown woman, especially a woman with the beauty and warmth of this one. His voice was trembling as he said: "Can you suck two cocks at a time, Miz Cantrell?"
In Elizabeth's heart, a great warmth had been growing from the moment she had let these kids in. She remembered Tommy's name for them-"a couple of cunt-heads"-and their strength, their youthful maleness, had made her aware again that she was a woman. That she owned something wonderful. That it was hers, to do with as she wished.
But, she had told herself, it's no fucking good unless you share it!
Sitting on her heels, and turning as she had to face the beautiful, shiny-stiff prick of the Gregoe boy, one heel slid up and mashed against the drippy, quakingly tender cuntlips, forced inside by the weight of her body. She jerked as the hard sweep or orgasm flicked at her raw, red-veined inner lips, and in reflex, she clutched the hard stem of Lex's cock. The ache of need and desire deep within her made her tremble, and for a moment, she felt so weak that she had to lay her head on the boy's groin. He smells like a goat, she thought happily, and then, boys are so sweet!
She swayed back and looked boldly up at Lex, licking her full, red lips. With the delicate care of a wine taster sampling a new vintage, she sniffed at the uncovered head of his cock, finding it every bit as tasty as Coley's had been last night, and arched her head so that she could impale her face on the big tool. It went back hard against her tonsil area, choking her with its delicious, rankly masculine savor, and she ran her tongue up and down it, giving the head a good tonguing.
"Oh, my dear!" she gasped as she pulled her head away, "that was so sweet!" And then, with a challenging smile: "Can you fuck?"
She let him go and turned back to the hard cock of Jorge Leyes. The dark and slender boy had his head raised, hungrily watching what was happening, and his prick was throbbing. He let out a low moan as she once more went down on him, and this time when he held her head, it was to slow her down. "Watch it, Miz Cantrell," he gasped, "this is so good, I don't want to shoot it too soon!"
As she had bent to take the long, sweet tool into her mouth, Elizabeth had raised her body so that she was kneeling with her thighs straight, and she had spread her knees so that Lex, dropping to his knees, had a gorgeous view of her cunt, its thick lips open so that the sloppy-lovely inside showed red and slick. As he gaped at it, Elizabeth pointed a free hand to her rear, wagging her butt in warm invitation as she sucked hard on Jorge's prick.
She felt the burning inside her again, felt the juice run down her thighs as her cunt had popped open. I'll cum the minute he sticks that big, hard thing in my poor little pussy, she said in the secret quiet of her mind, enjoying each word as she formed it mentally. She was moaning with anguished heat, and the vocal sounds, smothered by the size of the Mexican cock which stuffed her drooling mouth, made a vibration that set Jorge to plunging and screaming: "Oh, suck it, lady! Oh, you're so good! OH, WOW! SUCK ME, BABY! SUCK ME!"
He had not yet begun to cum, but he was thrilling from his asshole to the ruby tip of his tender cock, wanting the release a good suck would furnish his overstrained balls. He saw his pal, from the comer of his eyes, drop out of sight behind the lovely woman who was gargling his tightly-strung penis so well, and he reached quickly for one of the bobbing titties which looked so intriguing in their see-through lace and chiffon.
As he squeezed with long, strong fingers, pinching Elizabeth's sex-swollen breast until the nipple stood out like a bullet, the other boy, blind with heat, touched his cock to the open cunt with its wealth of female lubricant, and rammed it in with all the power of his muscular body.
It was long and thick, and it filled the woman with hard meat and a joy almost unbearable. It struck her womb with a jolt that shot marvelous pain deep up her, twisting her guts, making the iron grip on her breast feel even more glorious.
She clung to the cock in her mouth, the thumb and fingers of one hand around its base, and had freedom to whip her responsive ass from side to side, keeping her soft asscheeks against young Gregoe's belly, making his hard cock thrash from side to side in the tender walls of her cunt.
He was stabbing it into her as hard as he could, and now he was sitting on his own heels, and the woman's lovely ass and cunt were shoving back as if she were sitting in his lap for a back-seater, the lazy-man's fuck-style. If she's a poor, homely old widow, he thought with hard glee, I hope she knows some others just like her. His hands were around her strong body, and he pushed his pal's hands away from those long, full breasts, heavy now with the weight of passion-pumped blood. Even while his cock was probing her, even while her cunt was caressing his dick with lovely, muscular pressures, he warmed his hands on the smoothness, the firmness of her titties, squeezing the nipples between his fingers in brutal love.
Later, Jorge Leyes, laughing, told the other two that he had been squeezing his ass together so tight-"to hold it back, to make the lovely feeling last longer"-that his butt was tired. But for now, he had to let it go, and it was too much, too great.
That sweet face going down, then coming up, the soft cheeks sunken so deep with her desire to blow him thoroughly, the sweet lips wet with her spit, shaping themselves to his throbbing peter. He felt the hard, painfully beautiful expansion of his cockhead as the hot seed burst up out of his nuts. He screamed again: "SO GOOD! OH, GOD, IT'S SO GOOD!" and he felt the woman's throat close each time his cock went all the way in, giving his nerve-taut cockhead such a sweetly ferocious massage that it seemed she would suck his young balls right up through his pumping cock.
In his own passion, he could not hear the gasping cries of his companion, and of course, his thick, heavy tool choked off this tender, lovely woman's cries of joy and love's pain. But he felt her slender, strong body leap in a convulsion of delight as her own orgasm wracked her so sweetly.
To Elizabeth, there was something so lovely about this odd three-way pleasure that she let it flow from each end, sucking up each lashing spurt of the dark boy's thick, sweetly rich jism, loving every salty-slick drop, even while her kinked vagina was plunging up and down on the long, strong dick of the Gregoe youth.
She felt him pumping it into her, felt each jarring thrust as her position and his power rammed deep into her tenderest spots. Every muscle in her vibrant cunt seemed to be pulling the seed from his loins, and the slick, thick juice was spreading over her bottom and his thighs as they both let their shuddering bodies go.
When she finally lifted her streaming mouth from Jorge's cock, quickly lapping up each drop that she could reach with lips and tongue, she reached behind her to clamp her arms over Lex's and whispered: "Don't take it out of me! Let it stay! My pussy loves it so much, baby!"
And then they both gave way and fell on their sides, laughing, with the big boy's cock still embedded in her juicy split, which told him, with its last flutters, that she was well fucked.
When his dick eventually slipped out from her tightness and its wilting, she moaned: "Please bring it up here so I can suck it!"
Her hunger for male semen did not seem, to her, a part of the wildness of fucking, even a factor in her uncontrollable need to mouth and lick the dicks of teenagers. It was a deeper, kinder sensation, a need to have them, in truth, for her mind considered a boy's seed as the essence of the boy. It was him, this pearly-white thickness that poured, hot and sweet, from the depths of his young balls. one held Lex's cock carefully between her forefinger and thumb, not wishing to lose any part of the lovely treat by smearing with her hands. She licked deeply into the crisp and mossy pubic hair, sucking up the juices which had spilled out of her cunt and spread all over the base of his belly. It gave her a feeling of warmth and closeness to take a mouthful of this crisp adornment into her mouth, sucking on it, getting up the sweat as well as his cum and hers.
Still holding the limbering cock away from its next of hair, she gently sucked up first one ball, then another. The Gregoe boy's gonads were much larger than Tommy's, and much hairier. In a flash of recollection, she thought of the huge, rankly perfumed balls of the dog trainer, and the mental picture gave her a new twist of feeling in her vagina, a new wave of warmth around her cuntal spread.
The sight of the gleaming fluid on the boy's prick tempted her appetite as no food delicacy ever could. In spite of the growing warmth in her pussy, she licked calmly and carefully, getting every last, stray drop of the rich mixture of his-and-her cum goo.
She became conscious of a gentle touch in the creases of her ass, a voluptuous feeling that raced new fire through her body. Without releasing her hold on Lex's dick, she reached her free hand down and felt the head of the Mexican boy.
He was licking vigorously between the cheeks of her ass, and she turned completely on her tummy and spread her thighs so that he could reach her cum-oozing pussy from the rear. To aid him, she humped her loins up from the floor, and he got an arm under her, holding her tender cunt up to his sucking mouth. As he rooted hard in this cum-flooded area, she felt the piercing sweetness of his strong young tongue stab at her quivering asshole.
She thought at first that it might have been an accident, and giggled as she held the warm, soft mouthful of peter in her mouth, working the skin back with her tongue. But the feeling came again, and then, a glorious burst of sensation which seemed to turn her inside out, and she knew he was sucking her ass and digging into it with his tongue. And, when he moved the hand under her belly to pry into the upper slot of her newly aroused pussy, she sucked Lex's young cock deep into her throat and began to hammer her loins up and down on the deep shag carpet, cumming as hard as she had only a few moments before, releasing all her sex-needs and cuntal hungers, feeling the hard knot of desire burst far up inside her like rockets exploding in the dark sky, an almost unbearable pleasure tingling in her clit, her fuck-hole, even up around her womb and ovaries.
The two boys tenderly lifted the happily exhausted woman up onto the bed, and the Mexican boy, in some ancient sense of propriety, tried to pull the shortie nightgown down so that it would cover the throbbing, swollen pussy. The gesture touched Elizabeth so that she held his hand and kissed it, while tears poured down her cheeks. "You're so sweet," she whispered. And then, reaching for Lex Gregoe's hand, she said, "I wish you could stay longer."
He had pulled on part of his clothes, and he grinned as he pointed at her clock. She rolled off the bed and stood up.
"After eight o'clock," he said. "Old Man Lacey might be here any minute. He wants this wire up and finished by noon. No way, far as I can see." He prodded Jorge Leyes with his toe. "Come on, Brother George," he admonished. "Let's get it on."
The slender boy got up and fastened his pants. He put an arm around Elizabeth and hugged her. "You're just the greatest," he said fervently. "The greatest. D'you know that?" There was no doubting his sincerity.
"For a homely, wornout old lady-was that what you called yourself?" Young Gregoe picked her up with his powerful arms. "I wish some of the young chicks around this town were as sweet and good as you are," he declared. "You really know something, Miz Cantrell." He set her down and squeezed her pliant ass with the same pressure that Jeff Brigance had used, giving her the same sense of being opened. She recalled what Jorge had done for her.
With shining eyes, she put her arms around both of them. The feel of young manhood-of boyhood, really, but they were men, too-gave her a deep thrill. "You'll have to stop for lunch," she said.
"Yeah," Lex laughed. "And a break for a drink of water. Or something refreshing." He gave one of her tingling breasts a hard, affectionate squeeze.
"Or something," echoed the dark boy.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was one of the most beautiful days in Elizabeth Cantrell's life. When she thought about the nightmarish fears she had suffered last night, the retreat into the past, when she had been shackled and ruled by guilt, her new freedom seemed more wonderful and beautiful than she could have described.
She had taken the two boys out the back way, to introduce them properly to Coley, and the big dog, after sniffing them carefully, rubbed against them both in evident trust. It is true that, as he sniffed at their crotches, he turned and looked at his mistress with a friendly growl, but the boys didn't notice that. They shook their heads at the power the dog had shown when he had ripped the latch from the door, getting out to attack them. "We'll fix that on our noon hour," Jorge promised, but Elizabeth, laughing, said: "I'll think of something more fun to do on your noon hour."
She had never felt more sexually ready and, at the same time, more sexually satisfied. Like every other person who has been through both feast and famine sexually, she had realized two great truths.
One, that the more one uses the priceless and God-given parts and desires for sex as they were meant to be used, the greater is one's capacity for such enjoyment. Forget that women, by physical and psychic get-up, can reach climax oftener than men. The main thing is to fuck, and to keep on fucking, which reinforces both desire and capability.
And the second great truth was that being deprived of sex is the poison that wrecks confidence, wrecks happiness, wrecks minds. And makes the sexual person so greedy-wild for the denied pleasure that no crime seems too dreadful to satisfy lust. Men kill other men-and women, too-because of the hideous power of sexual drive rendered impotent. No sex, and the tamest of philosophers becomes frustrated and dangerous. Plenty of sex, and the same man no longer fears his fellow man, or woman, nor does he fear the future.
Each time one of the boys came in for a cool drink, Elizabeth got a warm, slick, boyish tongue down her throat, a finger thrust warmly up her cunt, a titty-pull, or a deep-probing caress between the cheeks of her butt. She was so surrounded with an invisible aura of sex as well as an invisible perfume of warm, sweet pussy that Mister Lacey, making a courtesy call to see, as he put it: "How these young rapscallions are making out," that Elizabeth, tickled with the use of a phrase that had sexual connotations, put her arm around the good gray man and hugged him.
Whatever it was, the odors of fucking or the warm pressure of the woman's body against him, the austere hardware man had to walk out slightly bent over to ease a hard-on.
She was so steamed, so fever-hot between her legs that when the front doorbell rang and she went and found young Tommy Burke there, she swept him into her arms and rubbed her belly all over the raised front of his faded jeans, distended by his hard and youthful pecker.
But he was careful about how he held her, how he responded, until she asked, snapping off her words: "What's the matter with you? Has all of this intrigue, me, your mother, your dad, Rachel-has it made everything rotten for you?"
She felt like shaking him until his teeth rattled, and then she was straightened out by her own thoughts. If it had not been for this kid-even if his sister and her strange ESP with Elizabeth had triggered it-she would not have known the joys of sucking a teenage cock. Of seeing a young boy grow in his own estimation. And who was she to criticize the fears and the mixed emotions of Tommy, a mere boy, if these circumstances wrought confusion in his young mind? What about herself? A grown woman, presumably mature, and yet she had gone almost berserk last night, denying herself, her body, the right to live, to be happy.
She almost dragged him to a chair in the parlor, the same room where, only last night, she had fellated a dog until he shot his rich, tasty sperm into her sucking mouth.
She sat down and held him between her knees, one hand lightly touching that darling prick that stood out so hard against his jeans. It was hard and throbbing, so she took it out and pressed her lips to it. There was no odor of female cunt juice.
She put her hand in the dark of his jeans, holding his young balls. His cock jerked again, and he made a sort of animal mewling, saying: "Please! Please!" in a high, whining voice.
She felt wet in the crotch, a flow of cunt ooze working its way into the thickly -haired and compressed lips of her cunt. His cock was only inches from her craving mouth, and she gratefully acknowledged the good fortune that gave her this chance to drink her fill of youthful jism.
She looked up at him, her face serious. "Oh, Tommy," she breathed, "I love this darling peter of yours so much! And I love to have you shoot your cum into my mouth. Or into my pussy. Or anywhere!" She held his prick, noticeably smaller than those of the two older boys, and thought how gorgeously it would fit into her rectum.
But that could wait. Anyhow, Jorge Leyes, the last time he had been in, had wiped his hand up and down the deep, moist crease between the globes of her ass and had whispered: "I want to get into this sweet thing of yours." And he had deliberately punched his finger against the ticklish, delighted little pucker of brown muscle. And, seeing that he had already turned her on to this unexpected maidenhead that existed in her asshole, he should get it.
She murmured: "Oh, my love! I must have your cum!" and bent her head to enclose his inflamed young member.
Its taste was delicate and sweet, and the angry looking red head felt smoother than wet velvet against her tongue, the roof of her mouth. And he must have been very, very ready to go.
He held her head, of course, in the manliest fashion, his hands over her ears, pulling her onto it, fucking deep into her throat. The hunching backward and forward on the chair's cushion was doing some great things for Elizabeth's overheated cunt, too.
She was already stirring inwardly with an orgasm beginning to burst when the boy's cock swelled and jerked, and a hot stream of jism shot far into her throat.
It was a surprise, him cumming so quickly, but Elizabeth, also hanging on a hair-trigger of lust, felt her own explosion of sex power thunder silently in the closed, pent-up heat of her vagina.
She kept her hand on his balls, frigging them back and forth more for her pleasure than for Tommy's, but, when she at last swallowed the last drop in her mouth and looked up at him, he at least was not the forlorn youngster he had been minutes before.
As she fastened his jeans with maternal care, he laughed.
You've got a couple of drops of my cum on your chin," he said.
He flicked them up with his finger, and she smilingly licked them off, then hugged him around his narrow hips.
"You were so sad just a few minutes ago, poor baby," she whispered. "Tell me what's the matter."
He moved sharply and said: "I think I'm in real trouble. At home. With my dad."
She listened intently, occasionally putting in a question.
What it amounted to was that the lid had been blown off of the mixed up sexual affairs at the Burke place. Burke Senior had come home, spent the night in bed with his wife-"not even doing her the honor of screwing her!" Tommy had grated-and then, this morning, he had gone seeking young Rachel.
"He found her, too," the boy said. "Down at the creek, with me. And I had decided to do what you told me to do. I was fucking her! Under the trees."
Their father had not actually seen them coupled, but he had seen enough.
"He sure was mean. To me and Rachel, too," Tommy said darkly. "He said that this was the last time he'd ever make a pass at Rachel, and when he said, looking at me" 'I'll be damned if I take a wet deck from a snot-nosed kid!' Rachel began to laugh. He's been after her all day to tell him why, and of course she can't."
"She laughed because he's been taking a 'wet deck' as you call it, from you, anyhow, where your mom's concerned. Right?"
The boy squirmed. "Yeah, and if he finds that out, we're all in bad trouble. Terrible!" He shivered, and Elizabeth held him tight.
She thought of all these two kids had meant to her, just in this short time, and she made a decision. "You can always come and live with me," she whispered. "You're-what? How old? Fourteen, isn't it? I'm no lawyer, but I think you have a right to choose where you'll live. If it's a good home, with someone the court believes is a responsible party."
Tommy clung to her, sobbing. "That's so great! But what about Rachel? She's only twelve!"
Elizabeth's heart sank. She certainly had no wish to deny the child a right to grow up, to enjoy her nubile, responsive young body as she wished. And if Rachel wanted it that way, or if it was a proper part of her sexual enlightenment, why not her father? He was just another man, wasn't he?
Another male' person? But if it was going to affect Tommy-well-it was a bit heavy.
"Go back home," she directed. "Get your clothes, your bike, all your things. Tell your mother you're coming to stay with me. Just for a while, that's what you'd better tell her. Just until things quiet down at home. And I'll drive down and pick you up. And Rachel can come and visit you, any time. See how that works out? I think you can officially make this your legal residence. You can be my, let's see, what will we say? My hired man, of course! And go to school from here."
He shook his handsome young head. "I still worry about Rachel," he said dully. "And mom, even if she is awful good to us, she can get pretty mean at times."
Elizabeth's native perception, heightened by all that had happened to her since day before yesterday, gave her a sharp twinge in her most sensitive areas. She saw that boyish dick, its head so red, its column so white with its thick, soft skin, sliding into the accustomed and red-hot mother-cunt. She felt the slow heave of Christine Burke's strong, softly muscled body, the deep animal love between mother and son that was made sharper, sweeter, by the fact that such fucking was forbidden fruit. It would be a hard thing for the woman to give up.
"Rachel can come here, too," Elizabeth declared. "Tonight. Your mom doesn't like the idea of your dad fucking Rachel, does she? Didn't you say so? Tell your mom that it's only to save her from your father. That ought to keep her quiet, don't you think?"
She thought of having both these sweet, warm-blooded kids in her home. Even in her own bed. The taste of the young girl's cunt, the beauty of nosing under her arms in the scented darkness of the hair in her armpits, the feel of the child's firm, girlish tits. And Tommy, all over her, all over his sister. What love! What fun!
She watched the boy ride home, still finding drops of his young seed hiding under her tongue, or between cheek and gums. It was almost a relief when Mister Lacey came by, crowded the ceremony of hanging gates by bringing extra help, and took the two older boys off in his truck on another job. They waved at her with rueful grins, and young Leyes mouthed, over the tailgate: "Later!"
She drove into Bonville and shopped for all the goodies she thought the kids might like. Plenty of good steaks, for one thing. She had read that a good diet, based on red meat, liver, fish, milk, and other proteins, was better for a man's sex life than all the faked and phony aphrodisiacs in the world. And she was beginning to realize the truth of something she had read-that the mind, the adventuring, picture-creating, fuck-oriented mind is the greatest aphrodisiac of all.
The pictures in her mind just wouldn't quit. Like a few minutes ago, when she had seen so plainly the actual penetration of Christine Burke's juicy and trembling cuntlips by her son's swollen, throbbing dick. "God, she's a beautiful woman, with a beautiful cunt," Elizabeth said aloud, as if she had seen the act of sex between mother and son with her own eyes. "If she's anything like me, it's no wonder she doesn't want to lose him," she murmured.
She wished the Burkes had a phone, so that Tommy could call her when he had his stuff together. It made the waiting nervous. But they had agreed on a time, and when her clock showed four-thirty, she drove through her new, electrically controlled gate, called a good-bye to Coley, who stood wagging his tail as she pressed the button which closed the portal automatically, and drove south.
She parked directly in front of the comfortable looking but somewhat shabby house, determined that all of this tremendous move should be carried on openly. She helped Tommy stow his pitifully few possessions in the car's trunk, and his bike in the back seat. She was shivering with excitement, and it was centered where most of her excitement lived-breasts, cuntal area, belly, between the lush globes of her ass. She knew why. This was going to give her a ready store of fucking and sucking. Without whatever discomfort of the mind that Christine Burke may have suffered.
"You can come home and see your mom, whenever you feel like it," she said to cheer the boy up. His tense face relaxed and she said: "When your dad's not at home!" and the boy laughed without any signs of worry at all, now that this issue had been explored.
Sneaking home to fuck his mom, when Paw wasn't there! Wow! That would really be something!
He said in a low voice: "Rachel's back near the road. She left a note for mom. Didn't want to face a lot of yelling."
Elizabeth frowned but nodded. She was fully aware there might be trouble. But overlaid on this threat was the promise of all the boyish peter she could use, all the boyish jism her system craved. Or, if not enough, surely a dependable standby supply, which could always be added to. A tremor of warmth and need shot through her body, and she squeezed her arms together, compressing her breasts, which seemed heavier and more sensitive just in the past few days.
As she reached for her ignition key, she saw a movement from the corner of her eye, and looked up to see Christine Burke in one of the front windows, staring at her with a venomous look. At the same time, under the big trees, there was another movement, and she saw the bulky shape of Linus Burke, fooling around near the tailgate of his rattletrap station wagon.
She looked at Tommy, who hissed: "Time to blow!" and started the big car down the winding dirt road.
There was a flash of color in the thick foliage of elder bushes up ahead, and Elizabeth opened the front door for Rachel to get in. Tommy was next to the driver, but that did not stop Elizabeth from reaching across to press a warm hand over one of the girl's strong and beautiful thighs. There was a little rush of saliva to her mouth, and the woman proudly thought: I'm as hot for one of them as I am for the other.
The girl had tossed a battered old suitcase into the rear seat, and she said: "That's enough stuff for two or three days. Then, if you still want me, and the heat cools down at home-well, what I mean, we can always get the rest." She pressed Elizabeth's shoulder with a hand laid across the back of the seat, and both of them smiled.
"It was smart of you to duck the trouble," the woman said. "Tommy, did they give you a bad time?"
"No," the boy replied, then laughed self-consciously. "Fact is, I just said I was going to do some work for you, just for a few days. I told mom when my father was around. She didn't like it, but I guess she couldn't say much."
Rachel sniffed. "He's been saying so many dirty things about me and Tommy-all that 'wet deck' business-that mom's afraid to rile him. Today was the first time that Tommy was ever going to really give it to me, damn it! I was so hot!" The child wiped a tear from her cheek, then shook her head angrily. "We had just started, when, thank goodness, I heard dad coming."
"Another couple of seconds, and it would have been me you heard cumming," Tommy said, and turned and kissed the girl. "Never mind, sis, things are going to be better now." He felt one of his sister's breasts and whistled reverently. "Baby, are your nipples ever big and hard!"
Elizabeth, finding it hard to keep her voice under control, said: "We'll do some real nice things for each other tonight. Some before dinner, a lot after dinner. So that everyone feels loved and wanted. Ooooh!" And she wiggled her lovely body. "I can already feel it, can you believe that?"
Rachel boldly put her hand up Elizabeth's skirt, on the warmth and smoothness of her thigh, and giggled. "Shamey, shamey!" she chanted. "No panties, Miz Cantrell!" And then, tensely, "Oh, you're so sweet and good! I sure wish you were my real mom!"
The woman patted Rachel's wrist, giving it an encouraging push up toward the crucial triangle where her thighs joined her body, where her bush of bright brown hair covered her closed cunt.
"Don't be mad at your mother, Rachel," she said. "She's a human being with human failings. She's jealous of you."
"Wow!" the girl said. "Jealous of me? That's pretty heavy! But why? She's my mom, she can do anything with me she wants."
Elizabeth let Rachel withdraw her hand. This was neither the time nor the place to have her squirming cunt explored by those tender fingers, to see the girl's hand dripping with cunt juice, to shoot her wad in a paroxysm of lust that would surely result in her running off the road. She concentrated on what Rachel had said.
"True. To a large degree, old habits give her the upper hand over you. But it isn't you she's worried about." Elizabeth paused and laughed. "She can't control Tommy. Or your dad. And she knows they both want your pussy. See what I mean?"
"Geez!" the child said fervently. Her strong young body moved as a tremor of fuck-interest quivered in her juvenile cunt. Without realizing it, she closed one of her hands on her breast, squeezing until the pleasure and pain were equal. She was leaning forward, her sweet young mouth open, her gaze fixed on a vision of lust. When she let her breath out, she said: "Wow! That's the greatest!"
Their dinner was great. Rachel was a marvelous helper, and the boy, his young cock never quite down to normal, enjoyed himself by teasing the two women, fingering first one moving twat, then the other, laughing, sniffing his juicy fingers, licking them.
And there was no artificiality about their going to bed. They fed the dog and petted him, letting him nose into the crotch of the girl, who said: "Really, old doggie, you should know me by now!"
And Tommy, who didn't understand and didn't care, held Coley's big head while the big animal sniffed his way to close acquaintance, and said: "You really got a great dog, Miz Cantrell!"
When they put Coley out, leaving the back door propped open so that he could roam the perimeters of the new fence and still come back for his sleep, they went upstairs. Elizabeth thought she had never been more conscious of the way she was built, the firm globes of her posterior which so softly moved against each other, caressing the thick-lipped cunt between them.
And Rachel, her arm around her brother, feeling down into his groin and squeezing his hard prick, said: "We'll take that down for you, Buddy-boy, won't we, Miz Cantrell?"
Elizabeth had never appreciated her comfortable, roomy home so much as when she walked the two kids along the wide upstairs hall and said: "Here, this is your room, Tommy, for as long as you like. And this one," as they turned across the hall, "is yours, Rachel. And if you don't like the wallpaper, or the beds, or whatever, they can be changed." She hugged them both, her heart beating hard. "I'm going to see that you're both happy!"
But, when the boy and his sister looked at each other, and then at the older woman with a question in their eyes, she laughed and said: "You're both going to sleep with me tonight. Until you decide to go to your own beds. And if I miss you, I'll call you, or come and get in bed with you. Anyone can get in bed with anyone, from now on, understand? Nobody will ever feel left out, hear?"
There was as much thrill, as much excitement in them all as if this were their first experience with each other. Elizabeth's entire body felt light with inner warmth as the two children undressed her. Tommy held her firmly, his young arms around her back and his hands on the lovely globes of her butt. He was holding them apart, giving her that marvelous sensation of openness, as if someone were gently, carefully stretching her cuntlips wide apart, letting its fluids roll out warm and slick, tickling her tenderest places. And young Rachel, her bare body so smooth and firm and warm, was pressing her big breasts against the older woman's thighs, while her soft young hands searched out the top of Elizabeth's slit, and the smooth and girlish fingers pressed into that moist valley, gently touching the divinely painful tenderness of the older woman's little bud of fuck-nerves.
She began to pump against Tommy's belly and his sister's hand as if she were out of her head with lust, and she said thickly: "Bed! Get me on the bed! Ohhh! Ohhhh! That's so damn fucky-good!"
They were all laughing as they fell on the big bed, and Elizabeth rolled with her back to Tommy, some crazy urgency telling her to hurry and get a hard cock shoved up her ass, to get her bowels distended by fucking and sprayed with hot, slick jism without any more waiting, to do it, and feel it, and have it over with.
She nestled her body against Tommy's, her back to him, and worked his erection into the soft, moist crack of her ass. With her right hand, she reached around over her hip and got the smooth, hard thing into her hand, rubbing her thumb over its leaking tip, which made him groan with happiness and pleasure.
When Rachel raised up to see what was going on-and it was as plain as day, once she saw Elizabeth's hand guiding the prick against her asshole-she said: "Good God! Can he do that? Can he fuck it into your bung hole and not kill you?"
As the truth struck Tommy, he shouted: "Grease it! I don't want my cock chewed up!" but he excitedly hunched into her, like a dog blindly feeling for a hole with his dick. He was panting, laughing, and he reached down to Elizabeth's flowing pussy, picking up a warm handful of her slick cum-goo, enthusiastically rubbing it all around her brown, puckered sphincter. He got another handful, the warm pressure of his fingers in her tender cunt making the woman gasp and lunge, and it was enough to make her slick from her cunt to the top of her asscrack. To make things even more certain, he jammed his young hardness into Elizabeth's sourve of fuck joy, and blindly thrust with his cock at the place he thought the hole might be.
It was a lucky shot; the head of his prick went in, slipped in easily, and then Elizabeth's instincts clamped her anus tight, and gripped his cock so firmly that he cried out. "Jesus, that hurts!" the boy yelled, but he hung in there, trembling, and Elizabeth said: "Easy, baby! Let me relax. OH, HOLY JESUS!" and her entire body pumped against him with the strength of mania as the nerves in her rectum suddenly felt and realized the stretch and the heat of being fucked.
Tommy was breathing very hard, his arms locked around the woman's belly. It was a rough passage for his prick, but he could not let this kinky chance go, could not stand the thought of ridicule if he could not fuck this squirming asshole. It was moving, seeming to try to pull his cock and push it, all at once, and he had a surge of pride-he was doing something no other boy in Bonville had done.
"Oh, God!" the woman groaned. "Oh, baby! Work it in just a little!" And then, remembering how strange it must be for him, she said: "You'll never know how good this feels to me! I want it so bad, and you're doing me so perfectly!"
She thought of the girl, too, and patted her on her rounded ass, which was near her face. "Did you see it, Rachel?" she asked. "Did it look like something you might enjoy? I hear that guys can come to love it better than anything. Oh, my dearest! Oh, your sweet little pussy smells so sweet! So lovely!"
She pushed on Rachel's thigh, and the young girl, thoroughly aroused, rolled on her side, pressing her own face into the fragrant hair on Elizabeth's cunt. "Can I suck you, too!" the girl asked in a hoarse whisper. "Are you going to suck me out while Tommy fucks you?"
She was so busily opening her own richly sculptured thighs, and so actively opening the woman's cuntlips and pushing her long, slick tongue between them, that it was obvious she was only talking because she loved the hot, strong, descriptive words. She was moaning with desire, too, and when she saw, between Elizabeth's sweating thighs, her brother's cock jammed into her older friend's anus, she began to pump her soft belly against Elizabeth's face, trying to push her cunt around the woman's tongue, or to do anything she possibly could to assuage the fire that raged in her entire pelvic area, to fire this cunt-burning orgasm stored within her.
At this moment, undoubtedly because concentrating on Rachel's sweetness and her own cuntal pleasure had removed her body's tension, Elizabeth's frightened sphincter relaxed for long enough to let Tommy's pushing cock go in another inch. And then, as often happens, since the blind, dumb rectum realizes it is no use to fight it, the boy's entire penis went home, all the way, rubbing against the ridged surface, the tender nerves of the woman's rectum.
Even while she had dreamed of it, Elizabeth had feared the penetrating cock would hurt. But it was the strangest hurt she had ever experienced. It had the deeply satisfying, even triumphant feeling of a painfully enormous bowel movement, the kind that, it seems, will never be accomplished. And still, somehow, is. But it was ever so much more than that.
It seemed strange to think about it now, when she was being fucked vigorously in her tender rectum, which felt unbelievable good, sexually good, that she had always been a hot female. Always. Even in her long, dark, loveless life with Old Sam, all she needed was a moment or two to play with her clit, to grease her cunt, so that her husband's horny cock could bang into her. And she would cum like a rabbit. Cum and cum and cum, so that she would be bathed in her own pussy juice as well as Sam's copious flow of semen.
And when she was a girl, even before the devastatingly brief affair with her lost love, when she was twelve or thirteen, she now remembered, sucking on the raw, red inner lips of Rachel's pussy, that she was able to cum simply by closing her thighs very tightly together. A dream? No, reality. And therefore, this wildness which seemed a foolishly late blossoming, was only a natural result.
With a start, she felt the young girl leave off licking her sensitive split, and heard the child say: "We would have found each other, Elizabeth. I would have come to you!"
This resumption, or repetition, of the strong mental telepathy between herself and Rachel shot a new thrill up Elizabeth's spine. Plus the fact that, for the first time, Rachel had entered into the intimacy of first names. Without being told, without preamble, without self-consciousness. But who can be self-conscious in a sixty-nine?
There was a fierce joy in all three of them that needed no ESP to declare it. So close they were, so much in love! "Oh, God!" the young boy cried, his hands excruciatingly powerful on the older woman's soft, blue-veined breasts. "I wish I could bite you! I wish I could bit blood out of both of you! Oh, God! Help me CUMMMM!"
She could feel her breasts being mauled out of human shape. It made fire flash down to her cunt. She was lapping the thick, clear, hot juice that seemed to pulse out of the thickened lips inside Rachel's distended pussy. The child's clit stuck out like a tiny price, but Elizabeth, who deeply wanted to suck the joy and heat from that jerking finger of flesh and nerves, licked around it. When she began to blow, she would suck it, and Rachel would burst open with her own fiery orgasm.
And all the time, she felt the cock in her ass, seeming to grow sweeter and slicker and more comforting, seeming to pass its heat and joy between asshole and fuck-hole.
She moved her top thigh so that Rachel could get to her cunt all the better, and the child, delirious with the intensity of the cum-fire swelling in her, and with the sure knowledge that her friend was hanging on the lip of a huge cum, gasped: "Oh, good heavens, Elizabeth! Oh, my goodness! Your cunt's hanging open. Oh! I can see up it!"
And Elizabeth, unwilling to close her mouth against the sweet flow from the young girl's body, thought: Suck it, my darling! Put your sweet, strong young lips around that red hole and suck it all out of me!
She was not surprised when the tongue play around her clit stopped, or when the piercing sweetness of a deep suck closed her cunt walls against each other. It was a sort of glory, especially as she felt Tommy's cock swell and throb, and felt the wet, hot flow of his jism, shooting off in her guts.
She was pumping forward at the sweet girl and backward at the strong young cock, and in her fever of heat she chewed on the hard little bud of love which had been tense and throbbing ever since they had first locked themselves in a triad of love.
They throbbed and kissed and poured out nerve strain and love's hard needs. Pulling his cum-dripping peter out of the new mother lode he had struck, Tommy licked and kissed and sucked at Elizabeth's breasts like a starving baby.
"Oh, oh, oh!" he whimpered. "That's what I missed!"
Coming through a red mist of lust, Elizabeth remembered the sweetness of the young Mexican that day, what he had done for her, with his oval face buried in her ass. How he had -rimmed her with his tongue, then given her the poignant pain of sucking her ass until it opened like a flower.
She bent and licked Tommy's cock, her heart leaping at her personal triumph over an old no-no. "I never knew I was so clean inside," she whispered, blushing. "It tastes simply wonderful, Tommy! Some night I'll suck your ass, baby!"
And Rachel, her young face shining with sweetness and love, held the older woman's round, firm ass cheeks apart and kissed her gloriously. "Oh, how I wish I had a cock!" she moaned. And then: "Oh, Tommy, will you ever fuck me there?"
They had snacks in the kitchen, then came upstairs again, bring Coley along. He chose to sleep in Elizabeth's room. The two kids, loving the idea of having their own rooms, separated after long good-nights, long kisses and embraces.
It must have been very late, perhaps two in the morning, when Elizabeth's bedroom door slammed open and she heard Tommy's cries.
The big dog, stirred from sleep, bared his fangs, but when he saw it was Tommy, in the light of Elizabeth's bed lamp, he subsided.
"It's mom and dad!" the boy groaned. "They've got Rachel!"
As Elizabeth jerked off her nightgown and put on a thin robe, the boy sobbed: "They're crazy! They sneaked in the house! Mom got in bed with me! Naked! Tried to suck me! And I saw my father dragging poor little Rachel away. She was unconscious; I think he hit her!"
They ran downstairs, the big dog ahead, growling, probably angry that he had not heard the invasion. When they got to the porch, Elizabeth said: "Wait! They're by your car! What's happening?"
There were three floodlights which stayed on all night. Sam, too, had been afraid of burglars. They showed only too well what was happening.
On the tailgate of the old station wagon, Rachel had been thrown down. She was utterly helpless, completely naked. Her mother held up one of the child's beautiful legs, her father held up the other. Her lovely, swelling young cunt, so tenderly girlish with its soft, thickly -haired lips, was open. Her father's other hand held his cock, big and hard and menacing.
As they looked, Christine Burke cried: "Fuck her, daddy! Fuck the little whore! Fuck her good! Split her little ass wide open!" And the big man, his dungarees down around his ankles, shoved the huge cock into his daughter. They saw it sink in slowly, saw him pull it out and slam it home again, his eyes closed, his face showing the intensity of his lust.
They saw a black shadow leap forward, and heard the naked woman scream: "Watch it! Look out, Burke!" But Linus Burke was past caring what else happened. He was in the cunt he wanted for years, the tight, softly helpless cunt of his baby girl. He did not see his wife hurled to the ground by the black-maned shepherd, or hear her grunting scream as she rolled on all-fours, trying to escape. She tried to crawl away and could not; the dog's weight and strength held her. He was up on her, trying to get his shiny-red cock into her, and his declawed toes were pressing on her swinging breasts. To escape him, she rolled on her side, and he began to nose into the deep crack between her big white asscheeks, licking at her furred snatch which peeped out.
"My God," Elizabeth breathed almost silently, "she's beautiful, as beautiful as I dreamed her." But here was a sister in pain and humiliation, and the kindly woman could not stand that, so she went straight to Coley and grabbed his collar.
"Get out of here!" she cried. "Sit! Stop! Heel!" She could not remember if Jeff Brigance had given her the words for a situation anything like this, but she must have hit on the right command, for the big dog drew back and sat, licking his lips.
She helped the other woman to her feet, and said shortly: "Don't worry. He won't attack you again."
Christine Burke peered around her rescuer at the big dog. She could see his long, bright-red cock. "My God," she whispered, "he was trying to fuck me! Your dog was trying to fuck me!"
"He was guarding me and my property," Elizabeth said tartly. "Your husband's lucky the dog didn't go for him. He mightn't have gotten off so easily."
In the silence, the other woman giggled, an odd sound. "Doesn't fuck men, hey?" she asked, and her voice sounded hysterical. She moved toward the car. "May I get my clothes?" she asked. They all turned to the station wagon, where Linus Burke, his big cock shining with the cum fluids of himself and his daughter, stood transfixed, his tall, heavy body jerking as he pumped out a gut-shaking cum that had as much psychic meaning as physical joy. The light was good enough so that they saw the lovely, mature lines of the girl's divided rump, the slash of darkness where her bountiful cunt hair framed the swollen, reddened inner lips. In the shuddering quiet of the night, young Tommy's hoarse voice said: "You dirty old son of a bitch!" and he ran at his father.
But Rachel apparently had not been unconscious, or else her ordeal under the big, hard cock of her father had aroused her. She leaped from the tailgate of the station wagon, staggering from the soul-shaking experience she had just had, and cried: "No, Tommy! No! He's our dad! He did what he thought was right!"
She slid to her knees and caught her brother around his. He was wearing only an undershirt, and the sight of his naked mother, her full-fashioned body which he knew so well, had brought his cock to trembling erection as he had watched his sister's young cunt stretched and the fanatic attempt of the dog to fuck his mother. Now he stood shaking, his boyish prick hard against the tear-stained cheek of his young sister. He felt a swelling of need deep in his nuts, and reached down to help Rachel up. His hands went under her arms, into the fragrant tangle of hair, and his fingers felt the weight and fullness of her beautiful young titties.
His mother, crying, was struggling into her dress and the father turned agrily on her. "You tell 'er they're my kids, like Rachel says!" he shouted. To Elizabeth, he hurled a threat. "They're my kids and you've taken 'em away from us! We'll get you for it, Miz High-and-Mighty Cantrell! You'll see! I'm poor, but my church will stand by me! The law will get you!" He was quivering with rage.
Elizabeth Cantrell went through a strange series of mental and emotional shocks, changes, vibrations and expansions of feelings in those few seconds while she confronted the angry, guilty intruder. She was not afraid, physically or morally. Not afraid of Linus Burke, certainly. She had the ammunition to blow him apart if needed. But she wished him no harm. Truly.
She had learned a great deal more about life in this past two days than ever before. About herself, about people and their needs, about her body, which she now felt free to love and enjoy as never before. There was a warm crawl of itching muscle deep up inside her, in the juicy dark around her womb, in the soft, slick folds where nerve-ends made her vagina quiver. Unconsciously, she closed her thighs together to hold in the beautiful feeling. And she could see those blessed children, so loving, so loyal. Loyal to each other and to themselves.
She saw Tommy's rigid cock as a lighter shadow across his sister's cheek, and could imagine the warmth of blood pounding through it, the clear, sticky drop of pre-cum fluid on its red tip. And the tender girl, the woman-child with the other-world powers of her mind, the very warm now-world of her responsive, softly muscled body, its breasts and belly and cunt so mature for a child. They stood on a brink. Whatever quarrel they had with their father, it could one day be mended. She felt her body swell with warmth for them all. She could not slay Burke, as a remote ancestor might have slain a dragon. His face was slack, his cock was limp, he must be undergoing the most defeating of feelings. So she was firm but kind.
"Mister Burke," she said calmly, "I want you to take your wife-she knows I am her friend-and go home. I mean it. Now."
He pulled himself upright again and raised his fists. But before he could scream out his hatred, Elizabeth, who now had her arms around the strong shoulders of young Tommy, and the cool, smooth firmness of Rachel, raised her hand.
"We don't want any trouble between us. We don't want to hate, to be unkind, to imprison people by anything but love. We can forget things like trespass, and breaking and entering, which are really against the law." She stooped and kissed young Rachel on the cheek, and boldly felt of her smooth breast. "We will forget about statutory rape, and rape by force." But get your ass out of here, she thought, so I can suck this seed out of your child's warm, tight pussy.
She felt Tommy's arm go around her, and he had a man's grip on the soft fullness of her buttocks, pulling them apart so she could feel the cooling juices that gathered around her cuntal opening.
"She's my daughter," the man grumbled, but all the fire had gone out of him. His wife, who had been roused to bitterness at the confusion and pain of perhaps losing her son, her lover, sensed kindness and understanding in this woman she had known so long.
"Yes, she's your daughter, of course," Elizabeth said. "The law says that. The law also says you can't have sexual intercourse with your daughter. I don't say you can't, and maybe your daughter doesn't say you can't, if she wants to. But you can't do it unless it's for love. Don't you see that?"
Her voice was pleading, because she truly wanted nothing but love and good for all of them. And she wanted to have young Tommy's hard young dick in her while she sucked that lovely, girlish cunt and squeezed those firm, achingly tender titties.
The big man was finishing dressing himself. "You don't want to steal them from us?" he asked. "You really have work for Tommy to do?" He rubbed a hand across his eyes, numbed by the terrible passage of anger and passion that had gripped him.
That cock of his had looked a foot long, Elizabeth remembered. It was shivery to think of it going into the lovely, smooth-lipped young cunt of that nubile child. And just as shivery to think of it going into her own cunt. It could happen. So much already had.
"I mean it, I promise," she said. "Of course there's work for Tommy. There's work for you, too. Not steady, of course, but there will be days," and she let her voice trail off, choked slightly by the curious idea of using her lovely, beloved cunt to squeeze and draw out those powerful blasts of richness from Linus Burke's balls.
She knew she had done the right thing. There was real love in those children for their parents. It showed in their good-byes, the affection of mother for son, of daughter for father.
They locked the gate and went back to the house. The big dog glided along in the semi-dark like his lupine ancestors, and Tommy, with all that restrained sex in the air, was moved to humor. "Look at the cock on Old Coley," he joked. "Bet it's longer'n dad's."
But then he seemed to feel he had said the wrong thing, for he stopped by his sister and put his arms around her. They were so near the same height that his cock slid right into the open, cum-slicked lips of her pussy, and he laughed nervously. "This night's sort of gotten to me, sis, I guess. I shouldn't have said what I did."
The girl's smooth skin, strangely enough considering the night chill, was warm, and she held her brother to her tightly.
"Don't sweat it," she said. She let go her brother to hug the older woman, and shyly pushed the thin robe aside so that her bare belly and breasts should rub against Elizabeth's. "A little thing like that-on a night like this-it doesn't mean anything. And besides, we're going to have some fun. Right, Miz Cantrell?"
There it was again-that strange, thrilling ability of her mind and the girl's to communicate. Elizabeth felt a hurry of heat and impatience in her pulse, in her lips, which she rubbed together, in the wetly moving muscles at the opening into her cunt.
She kissed Rachel deeply, their tongues dragging, and they were smiling as they drew apart.
"Keep your hand over it, baby," Elizabeth whispered. "Oh, and hurry, too! I want it so bad!" They began to move faster, got to the door and started up the stairs. Tommy let the dog in an latched the front door. He looked puzzled.
"Hey, what about me?" he asked, and Elizabeth bubbled with laughter.
"I'm going to suck all that good stuff out of your little sister," she said gaily. "While I'm doing that, you can suck me or fuck me or anything you like. And I promise, if you want to wait, I'll suck you, too. Or we can stay up late and suck all around."
He showed them his dick. "God Almighty," he swore, "I'm sure ready for it. I feel like I could fuck all night." He eyed the two women, working their way into each other's arms, kissing, and asked: "What about the dog? Want me to take the dog downstairs?"
Elizabeth had the boy by his cock, so warm and hard, trembling with the fullness of his young nuts. Rachel's flushed, lovely young face was turning away, just as the girl's smooth, white ass was moving toward Elizabeth. Both women laughed.
"Oh, no, Tommy, don't be selfish," Rachel said. "Leave the dog here. One of us may want the dog." She squeezed her cuntlips together, a jewel of clear cum juice trickling out, and glanced at the serene and beautiful face of the older woman, poised and tongue-ready to blow her mind with a cunt-sucking to end all cunt-sucking.
She gave a quick kiss to the sloppy-beautiful folds of the older woman's exposed cunt, settled her ass on Elizabeth's face, and said: "Both of us will want the dog!"
