There are two great motivators in the world which seem to beg to say, "The end justifies the means." They are greed and sex. Perhaps there is only one, because in many ways, greed is simply a perversion of the sex drive.
However, in this book there are two, separate and apart from each other. On the one level is the civilized man, indulging in his desperate greed with paid violence. And on the second level is the bought man, transforming the violence he is paid to perform into sexual pillage.
Perhaps this sexual pillage becomes a kind of greed, also. There are no easy answers when one gets into the perversions men will demand of helpless women. But then, there is almost no accounting for the strange design hidden deep in every woman which allows her to experience the ultimate depths of sexual satisfaction at the moment of greatest terror and helplessness.
It is almost as if the world were deliberately put together with sexual terrorists and their victims, and that without each other neither could know the full depths of life.
Of course, this is only a novel, not a psychiatrist's textbook. But it is worth thinking on.
-THE PUBLISHER
CHAPTER ONE
Karla Thompson peeled off her yellow robe and stood naked before the full-length mirror on the inside of her closet door. Her deep blue eyes gazed vacantly into space as her tapering fingers worked at unbraiding her long golden hair. When it hung loose-almost to her waist-she gave her head a shake and eyed her reflection critically.
Her face was youthful, her fair skin peppered with a sprinkling of freckles which had been darkened by hours of work in the sun. Her features were small and well-formed, giving her a look of innocence which made her appear even younger than her thirty-two years. But her body was that of a woman.
She was about five feet four inches tall, with a slender and willowy figure. Her waist was trim above hips that were flared and curvaceous. Her shapely legs were gracefully contoured. A pair of firmly rounded breasts rode full and proud on the crest of her thorax. She looked healthy and alive.
Karla had always been energetic, even when she and Dick lived in the city. Back in San Francisco, she had jogged in the park almost every day in an effort to keep her flesh firm and well-toned. Then, six years ago, when they bought the almond ranch in Nut Valley, she had found ample outlet for her energies right at home. Their four ten-acre orchards were in constant need of attention. And since Dick was a pilot for a commercial airline out of San Francisco airport, one hundred miles away, she and their young daughter Gretta had to handle most of the work alone.
Karla never minded though. She loved working with the trees, and she loved living in the Valley. She and Dick had always agreed that the country was the only place to raise children. The ranch meant so much to them. Until that day two years ago when Dick's plane went down and she became a widow at the age of thirty.
At first, she thought the world had come to an end. She and Dick had been childhood sweethearts. He was the only man she ever knew. He and Gretta were everything to her. How could she go on?
But Gretta needed her. And the land needed her. The trees had to be watered. The almonds had to be harvested. The earth had to be cultivated. Everything she and Dick had saved was invested in the ranch. She owed it to him to keep it going. There was no time for grief.
Somehow, she managed to survive. For the past two years she had been both mother and father to Gretta, now fourteen. Her days had been filled with labor. But her nights had been empty and lonely. She tried to fill the void with memories of Dick and the good times they had together. But somewhere inside her heart there was a hollow feeling.
Today, though, the emptiness inside her was filled with the fluttering of butterflies. This evening, for the first time since her husband's death, she had a dinner engagement with a man. A very handsome one at that.
She had seen Paul Sterling several times, when he came to inspect the land which surrounded her orchards. His real estate company had already purchased hundreds of acres in the Valley, and, according to rumor, was planning some kind of development. She knew, of course, that he had only asked her out to discuss the purchase of her property. In fact, she had already turned down an offer which his partner, Mr. Stone, had made. But Sterling was so charming and pleasant when he invited her to dinner, that she agreed to listen to his arguments and consider the matter once again.
Besides, the prospect of going out with him excited her in a surprisingly girlish way. All day long, she had felt nervous and jittery. Several times, while she was working in the south orchard, she thought the phone rang. But when she ran back to the house to answer it, she found that her ears were playing tricks on her. Even Gretta had startled her with the sound of her voice when she came home from school and joined her among the trees. Finally, at her daughter's insistence, she decided to stop work early to prepare for her date.
Standing nude in front of her closet, she selected a chic white pants outfit which she hadn't worn in more than two years. She was certain, however, that it would still fit her. Hanging it on the closet door, she turned and headed for the bathroom, her buttocks swinging from side to side as she walked. Their smoothly curving surfaces gleamed white against the deep tan of her legs.
Reaching into the shower stall, she turned the faucets, waiting for the water to warm. Then, stepping inside, she allowed the hot spray to play over her nudity. The water felt good, massaging her neck and shoulders with its pressurized stream. All the tension of her anticipation ebbed out of her muscles, her whole body relaxing under the heated flow. Turning slowly, she directed its jet against her throat and the tops of her breasts. Her hands moved lazily as she rubbed her soaking skin with a gentle circular motion.
Taking a wash cloth from its hook inside the stall, she began to lather it with a soft bar of soap. The thick absorbent material swelled with creamy foam, the suds making her fingers slick. Returning the soap to its dish, she began to draw the lathered cloth across the sloping plane of her belly.
With spiraling strokes she scrubbed herself from the top of her golden pubic triangle to the bottoms of her swelling tits. Moving her hand between the pink-tipped mounds, she soaped her bosom's cleavage carefully. Then, with tender movements, she lathered each of her boobs, washing gently around the shadows at their peaks. Her nipples were dark and satiny, the roseate tissue puckering under her ministration. Their centers elongated cylindrically as the twin nubbins became erect. Absently, she plucked at them, turning her back to the shower's hot spray.
Dick used to hold her nipples this way, toying with them lovingly while he kissed her lips or whispered in her ear. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his comforting touch. His hands would cup her breasts for a moment and then return obsessively to their peaks.
She felt the fullness of her tits, filling her palms with their resiliency as she mused. Dick had been so gentle; so very tender. She missed the touch of his hand, the warmth of his caress. She longed for the security of his embrace. Clearing her throat to stifle the sob which was building there, she turned her face to the shower again. Briskly, she rubbed herself with the washcloth, soaping her thighs and buttocks before bending to wash her feet and ankles. But the aroused tingling which had begun with her memories of Dick did not stop. She felt the warmth of mounting excitement rise like a volcano in her loins. The membranes of her pussy sizzled, copious secretions coating their smoothness. She cursed the sensation, and the agonized frustration which it inevitably brought.
When Dick was alive, they had been ardent and ecstatic lovers. None of the conjugal joy which they had found in their youth ever waned or dissipated. Instead, it deepened, bringing consummate bliss to their relationship. It would not do to let her body remember his touch.
The recollection could not be stifled, however. Her nipples quivered in tremulous erection, their rigid points aching to be fondled. Repeatedly, her soapy hands brushed across them, making them tingle with desire. She tried to fight it, to stave off the desire which directed her self-caressing hands. But it was hopeless. She had been too long without a man.
Uttering a muffled groan, she filled her hands with the softness of her breasts. Hungrily, she squeezed the fleshy mounds, allowing the slickness of her lathered fingers to stroke sensuously over their surfaces. Her hips rotated rhythmically, carrying the hair-covered hump of her pussy forward and back. She bit her lip, knowing where the stroking would lead and unable to do anything to prevent it. Her breathing was becoming labored.
Making a last vain attempt to resist the forbidden urge, she soaped the washcloth and began scrubbing herself briskly. But each laving stroke seemed to end at her bosom. Involuntarily her fingers nudged at her boobs. Unconsciously her palms rippled across the turgid nipples. The hot shower water warmed all of the nerve endings of her body, making her even more susceptible to the stimulation of touch. Squeezing her eyelids tightly together, she pressed herself against a tiled wall of the shower stall in an effort to neutralize the heat.
The cool ceramic felt smooth and soothing against the skin of her cheek and breast. But she soon found herself grinding her cunt against it, her temperature rising once again. The golden down which lined the prominence of her mons was dotted with droplets of shower water, the wiry curls matting as she rubbed herself against the wall. Her clit was already beginning to swell, the hot rivulets of water which washed across its vibrating surface heightening her excitement. As though it had a mind of its own, her hand stole between her body and the wall, seeking the moist warmth of her vaginal slit.
She and Dick used to make love in the shower sometimes, his hands caressing her lovingly each time their lips fused. Now, as her finger burrowed between the thick lips of her pussy, she envisioned his body. It had been lean yet muscular, and coated with a curling layer of masculine hair. She could almost feel it against her as the tip of her finger played with the sensitive flanges of her cunt. She could almost taste him as her knuckle grazed gently over the nubbin of her clit. Unconsciously, she bent her knees to allow the probing digit to enter.
The air in the stall was steamy and heavy, bathing her body in a sensuous aura of passion. She felt her heartbeat quicken as her breasts became firmer and more pointed under the tingling shower spray. All her organs tingled erotically in response to her desperate masturbating caress.
One finger had already found its way inside her vulva as far as the first knuckle. Cupping her pubic mound, she rubbed her clit with her palm while she penetrated the yearning slash. At the same time, her other hand moved idly over her body, caressing her breasts, stroking her inner thighs, and petting her smooth flat belly. The soap and the washcloth were forgotten.
Turning slowly to face the shower once again, she allowed its fluid heat to bathe her self-caressing form. Short groans of excitement issued from her throat as she plundered the depths of her own cuntal canal. Her eyes were tightly shut, her mind filled with visions of her husband. What a marvelous cock he had been blessed with. What happiness he had given her with it. How fulfilled he had made her feel. Trying to duplicate its girth, she slipped two fingers inside her. Then three.
Her cunt had grown tight from frustrated disuse. She could feel its flanges clutching at the probing digits as she worked them in and out. But it wasn't enough. With her other hand, she lifted her breast toward her lips, trying vainly to kiss her own nipple. Then, when only a fraction of an inch prevented the contact, she thrust out her tongue, lapping hungrily at the swollen nub.
Deep in her heart, she felt ashamed of what she was doing; embarrassed by her clandestine masturbation. But she was a woman, and her body's needs could not be denied. Gasping as her pussy swallowed her plundering hand, she proceeded to give herself what she so urgently needed.
Her fingers fluttered from one boob to the other, twirling her puckered nipples as she cupped the fullness of her tits. Her cunt had opened fully to the exploration of her hand, the clit standing up tall and stiff to command her attention.
Opening her eyes, she looked down at herself. The sight of her naked body, speckled with droplets of water and flushed by the steamy flow, excited her even further. Deliberately, with eyes wide open, she withdrew her hand from her vulva and arched her back. The needle spray of the shower jet beat at the sensitized tissues of her loins, massaging her button of pleasure and making it throb. Extending her middle finger, she began to stroke its little pink head.
Staring down through the cleft between her breasts, she watched the swollen button rise even higher as it reached for the ecstasy which her self-loving finger offered.
She sighed as she worked at it, overcome by the much needed pleasure. But her hand felt clumsy. Awkward. She had done this many times since Dick's passing, but she had never learned to be comfortable about it.
Dick had always known how to relax her, how to turn her body on while calming her mind. His fingers had always touched her cunt at just the right time and in just the right places. His lips had always sucked on her nipples with just enough pressure and just enough tenderness. As she rolled the pink caps in the fingers of one hand, his picture filled her mind.
If only she could hold him once more. If only she could take his cock in her hand and play with it, stroke it, love it. As her fingers glided in and out of her cunt, she imagined his organ swelling and pulsing under her touch.
She remembered their first night together on the ranch. Everything had been wonderful then. They had been so happy. Dick was as excited as a little boy with a new bicycle. He showed her joyfully around the house, saving the bedroom for last. Then, when they were inside it at last, he undressed her with passionate hands.
His penis had been stiff and swollen, as strong and as hard as an iron bar. She fondled it gently at first, her fingers tightening to pull harder and harder as her excitement mounted. Then, suddenly, Dick pushed her hand away and fell to his knees before her. Looking down in aroused anticipation, she watched as he pressed his face to her loins, burying his nose and lips in the fur of her pussy. She felt the heat of his breath caressing the tissues of her vulva as he kissed and nibbled at its flanges. Then, slowly, his tongue began to work on her.
She felt it slide delicately in and out of her palpitating opening. A little at a time, the pink and trembling lips drew back for him, presenting his tongue with the savor of her inner cunt. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled him tight against her, forcing his lingual probe deep into her sweltering twat. His hands gripped her buttocks, pulling the front of her body tight against his pussy-loving face. She felt his fingertips stealing between the fleshy gloves of her ass-ckeeks as his tongue delved deeper into the pit of her vaginal chasm.
"Oh, Dick," she moaned as her hands whipped her juices to a froth. For the moment, she forgot that she was a woman who had been sleeping alone for two years. For the moment, she was with her husband--her beloved Dick. It was he that she felt slipping into her as her fingers penetrated the cuntal opening to bathe luxuriously in the fluids of her love. Her clitoris, stiff and hard, jabbed at her palm as she rubbed it. Her nipples, turgid and erect, shone pink at the peaks of her titties.
"Love me, Dick," she sighed softly. "Love me." She squeezed at her bosom, the roughness of her passionate hands increasing her fervor. Her pelvis rotated drunkenly, a slave to her driving digits. With the tip of her thumb, she plucked at her clit. Each time she stroked it, a low whining gasp escaped from her lips.
Her hand began to move more rhythmically now, her fingers sliding in and out of her crack like a stiff and tapering tongue. It was Dick's. It was in her again, tasting the spicy arousal of her feminine musk. Faster and faster she pistoned, her fingertips scissoring as she drove toward her cervix. Her eyes were closed tightly once again, her face washed by the shower's flowing waters. She was so close. So close to release.
She could feel his tongue tunneling between the cloying walls of her pussy, plowing back the resilient membranes to seek the core of her sex. Deeper, deeper it probed, approaching the magic button which would set off her explosion. When it came, when at last it came, it would be magnificent. It would explode like a Roman candle inside the cavity of her skull; a bomb bursting hotly in the crater of her cunt.
Harder and harder she strained, her fingers working rhythmically inside her as her body pumped and ground. The tissues of her vulva were becoming red and irritated by the desperate thrusts of her knuckles, but the irritation was arousing her even more, bringing strangled sobs of desire from her wheezing lungs. Her hips rocked back and forth in the age-old rhythm of intercourse. While she fucked her own hungry pussy, her other hand reached unconsciously for the security of her husband's swollen cock. But all it could find was the stiffness of her own tormented nipples. With a vengeance, she twisted and tweaked them, her head spinning with the eroticism of sensuous pain.
Her whole body was undulating, her cunt a flag which flapped and waved in a gale force wind. It sucked at her fingers voraciously, threatening to swallow them into the heated hollow of her reproductive system. She was tense, her taut muscles vibrating uncontrollably under the pleasuring of her cunt-diddling digits. "Oh, Dick," she sighed softly. "Suck my pussy."
She tried to exclude all thought save the memory of his loving face. But inside, she knew that he was gone; realized that the fantasy was only invention of her lonely mind, a shame she had created to save her from the shame of wanton self-stimulation. It wasn't his tongue that was in her, it was her finger. It wasn't his body she was stroking. It was her own.
With a sob of frustration, she looked down at herself once again. Her tits were heaving pathetically as her hand brought pleasure with artificial passion. Her pussy was grinding rhythmically in circles, her fingers plundering the forbidden depths of its dark dank interior.
For a moment she feared that she would lose the excitement which had been building; that she would remain desperate and frustrated through eternity. But somehow she managed to close her eyes once again, recapturing the memory of her husband and glorious lover. His tongue had found the point of her clit and he was lapping it affectionately as her juices flowed. His fingers were at work on her tits; stroking, petting, rubbing, and caressing. Her nipples swelled even bigger under his loving exploration. Her cunt flowed like a river of joy.
She lowered herself to a squatting position, the spreading of her shapely thighs pulling the lips of her vagina further apart. like a caged she-demon, Karla fucked herself, each probing stroke bringing a strangled groan from her throat. In her imagination, she was holding her husband's penis. Somehow, her shame had been buried for another few moments.
The organs of her system were working overtime to produce a river of fluid which would free her mercifully from the tension of sexual solitude. She felt a rising surge of power flooding through her vitals, drenching her pussy in heat. The desperation of her response began to overcome her. She stood poised on the brink of total demolition. The sound and the spray of the shower had faded from her awareness, leaving her alone with the magic of her thoughts and the stroking of her hands. In her mind, she and Dick were together again, climbing the ladder of ecstasy. As she reached the top-most rung, she felt his arms circling her, his lips kissing her in a thousand places at once. Finally, she succumbed.
Her climax rinsed all the frustration from her soul, suspending her weightless in the care-free world between heaven and earth. She felt total and complete, if only for a fleeting instant. Dick was with her. They were cumming together.
But such ecstasy couldn't last. Slowly the waves of pleasure which rocked her quivering frame began to subside. For a moment, Dick's image was replaced by another. And in that instant, the world came back to her. Dick was gone. It was Sterling she had seen. Paul Sterling, the man she was to have dinner with. Shame and humiliation returned to her heart. Her eyes misted. Turning to face the shower head, she began to soap herself swiftly, as though washing away some unctuous but toxic chemical.
Quickly she bathed, stepping at last from the stall to begin toweling herself briskly. She felt guilty about what she had done. But she felt even worse about the image she had seen in her final moment of ecstasy. In her mind, she had been unfaithful to the memory of Dick.
It was bad to live so long without a man. It led to thoughts which were better left alone.
When she was dry, she rushed quickly to her room, anxious to be dressed before temptation struck again. She dabbed a bit of perfume between her breasts before slipping into her bra and dusted her loins with powder before donning her panties. Only after she had put on the pants outfit did she stop to look in the mirror. She looked good. It was nice to get dressed up again. It made her feel like a woman.
She worried for a moment about how to wear her hair. Then she decided to leave it loose. She brushed until her arm was tired and then went down to the living room.
Gretta was there with an overnight bag in her hand.
"I'm going to spend the night with Mary Frawley," the teenager said, without looking up. Then, glancing at her mother, she squealed girlishly, "Oh, Mom," she said. "You look beautiful. All dolled up for a date."
Karla laughed, "Date?" she said. "Don't be silly. This is business. Strictly business."
CHAPTER TWO
"One moment," Sue Bennett said, examining her scarlet fingernails critically. "I'll see if Mr. Stone is in. Who shall I say is calling?" Waiting for the answer, she clicked the hold button on her desk-top switchboard and went back to filing her nails. Mr. Stone was in, all right, but it was a cinch he wasn't taking any calls. He and his partner, Mr. Sterling, had been arguing all afternoon.
Punching another button, she returned the phone to her ear and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Stone is in conference. Would you like to leave a message?" She wrote the caller's name and number carefully, trying not to smudge her nail polish. When she hung up, she returned to the manicure.
Inside, the argument was going hot and heavy. She couldn't help overhearing it. It seemed that the partners had one every time Mr. Sterling came into the office. It was a good thing that he only came in one day a week.
Not that she cared. She always considered real estate something that was over her head. In fact, she felt that way about business in general. She would much prefer to have been at the beach, or riding in a sports car down a country road. But Dave Stone was a good boss. He paid her well, and didn't make her work very hard. In fact, he expected very little of her. Except, of course, when no one else was around. Then he expected everything. But she didn't really mind that at all.
Mr. Stone wasn't handsome, exactly. But he wasn't bad looking either. He was about five foot eight with a stocky solid body. His black hair and neatly trimmed moustache gave him a determined and masculine look. And the slight limp with which he walked made him appear quite distinguished, in spite of the ruthless glint in his eyes.
His voice, which was gruff and unpolished, could be heard through the thick oak of his office door. "Damn it, Paul," he was shouting at his partner. "It's easy for you to stand the loss, but I've got everything tied up in this. I'm not a lawyer with a big practice like you. All I have is this deal. If we can't start building in three weeks, I'll lose everything."
His partner was calmer, although his voice too sounded agitated. "Listen, Dave," he said. "Sometimes you've just got to take your losses and go on to the next venture. If the lady won't sell, we can't buy, and that's all there is to it. You should have negotiated with her before you bought up all the surrounding property. The geologists' report says she's got the only decent drinking water in that part of Nut Valley."
"That's why we've got to have her place," Stone fumed. "I'm not ready to give up yet."
"Neither am I," Sterling responded. "I'm taking her to dinner tonight. I'm going to offer her top dollar. More than her place is worth, if necessary. I'm sure I can convince her to sell."
"Maybe you can," Stone said, his voice suddenly gentle and controlled. "You're a sharp lawyer. Everybody knows that. That's why I asked you to be my partner on this deal. Maybe you can change her mind."
Sue had no idea of what they were talking about, but something about Mr. Stone's tone made her curious. She wasn't accustomed to hearing him speak so softly, or sound so reserved. Usually, he was harsh and unyielding in his fights with Mr. Sterling. He must have something up his sleeve. Holding her breath, she strained to hear more, but the ringing phone shattered the silence. Shrugging, she composed her face into a smile and reached for the receiver.
"Stone and Sterling," she answered musically. "May I help you? One moment, please. I'll see if Mr. Stone is in." Stabbing the hold button, she looked up in time to see Paul Sterling leaving Stone's office, briefcase in hand.
"I'll see you next week," the handsome lawyer said, flashing her a friendly smile. Then, with a wave, he walked out into the street.
Returning her attention to the phone, Sue stabbed an intercom button and said, "Mr. Stone, there's a Mr. Ted Cooper on the phone. He won't say what it's about."
"I'm not taking any calls," her employer's voice growled from the receiver. He sounded angry again, and very masculine. Sue's heart began to pound as he barked his next command. "Get rid of him," Stone ordered. "And get your pretty ass in here right away." As an afterthought, he added, "Don't bother to bring your steno pad."
She felt her temperature rising. Mr. Stone was a very passionate man, and when something was upsetting him he could be a tiger. Then, nothing could calm him down. Nothing except a good torrid fucking. Her hands were already beginning to shake.
"Mr. Stone will have to get back to you," she said into the phone, not even bothering to wait for a response before returning it to its cradle. Removing a mirror from her purse, she checked herself quickly in it. With practiced movements of her fingers she smoothed her flaming red hair into place, the fuck haircut which she wore making it easy. Pursing her lips, she moistened them with the tip of her tongue. Although she never used lipstick, her mouth was full and lusciously red.
She blinked her brown saucer eyes rapidly, watching her long curling lashes flutter. Then, returning the mirror to her bag, she rose, pushing back her chair as she stood. With a sensually fluid movement, she ran her hands over her petite but large-breasted frame. Her ties felt full and heavy in the chambers of her bra. Her waist felt waspishly slim. Her wide hips were built for fucking. Patting her skirt-covered pussy, she stepped out from behind her desk and headed for his office. At the door she hesitated for a moment, letting the desire which flooded her body simmer anxiously. Opening it slowly, she stepped inside. "Yes, Mr. Stone," she said girlishly. Her eyebrows were raised to give her sultry eyes a look of mock-innocence. "Did you want to see me?" she asked.
Stone swallowed hard, his eyes devouring her undisguisedly. Without speaking, he stared at her, a muscle at his temple twitching involuntarily. He licked the dryness of his lips with a slow and studied gesture. "Come in and sit down," he said brusquely, indicating the chair at the side of his desk.
Sue closed the door behind her and walked to the seat. It was low and slung back so that it would reveal the thighs of any woman who sat in it. When Sue Bennet flounced to the cushion, she managed to hike her skirt all the way up to her hips. She looked casually at a painting on the wall, aware that her boss' eyes were glued lustfully to the exposed crotch of her panties.
She had ordered the underpants from a Hollywood catalog, especially to tantalize Mr. Stone. She knew that he liked his goodies to come in pretty packages. This pair was extremely brief, barely covering her strawberry pubic hair. The material was a soft satiny pink, trimmed with the daintiest red lace. Embroidered at the center of its narrow crotch band, right on the spot where the taut material stretched across Sue's pouting pussy, were the kissing lips of a sensuous mouth.
She heard Stone's breathing quicken and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she rearranged her legs to point her crotch at him. His nostrils were flared, his skin beginning to flush. As though unaware of his attention, she idly stroked the skin of her own inner thigh, beginning at the knee and working upward. When her fingers came to rest on the satin-covered cleft of her vagina, she heard him sigh. Turning to smile sweetly at him she said, "Did you want to give me dictation, Mr. Stone?"
"No, he said without changing his expression of lust. "I want you to take off your clothes."
Sue's olive skin was beginning to glow. "Whatever you say, sir," she croaked, trying to continue her coquettish little game. But all that came out was a whistle. She sensed his hunger for her. She felt the heated vibrations which emanated from his body. The effect on her was potent. The fluids of her cunt were beginning to flow, drenching the seductive garment which hugged her heated loins. Her nipples were swelling, making the cups of her bra feel even more confining. She was having trouble catching her breath.
Suddenly unable to meet his searing glance, she looked down at herself and began undoing the buttons of her clinging white sweater. When the top two were undone, she could see the lacy top of her crisp white uplift bra. She knew that he could see it too. The sound of his wheezing breath told her that. Still not looking up at him she opened the rest of the buttons and shrugged out of the sweater.
The bra was deeply veed in the front, and constructed to push her already voluminous breasts up and together. Her cleavage was thus accentuated, forming a deep and shadowy valley of secret pleasure. Filling her lungs with air, she thrust her tits forward. It excited her to be exciting him this way.
In a hurry to show him more, she reached behind her to unhook the strap of her bra. Immediately, it fell away, cast off by the springing resiliency of her now-unfettered bosom. Her tits were full and spherical, each capped with a luscious rosebud nipple. As the room's air conditioned atmosphere washed over her partial nakedness, they stirred to fuller erection. The nubbins were thick and round, with aureolar discs the size of silver dollars surrounding them. As David Stone's glance caressed them longingly, the rigid centers stood up stiff and tall.
Sue felt her pussy slavering with desire. like her tits, it too longed to be free. Rising from the chair, she shook her shoulders slowly side to side, making her weighty boobs swing like a pair of lusty pendulums.
Turning slowly in place, she basked in her employer's admiration, allowing his eyes to study her wordlessly, and giving his imagination a chance to heighten his arousal.
She began to toy with the tab of her miniskirt's zipper. In a series of teasing staccato bursts, she tugged it downward, letting the material of her skirt fall open. Looking directly into his eyes, she peeled the garment over her hips, stepping out of it as it dropped to the floor. Clad only in skimpy panties, she ran her fingertips over her body.
As her hands cupped her tits, she stared pointedly at the crotch of his trousers. Stone, who was standing now, seemed totally enveloped in lust. His cock was so hard that it lifted the front of his pants, tenting them significantly. His stocky frame was tense, all his muscles flexed as his body hungered for the feminine softness of her nudity. Forgotten was the relationship of secretary and employer. All that mattered now was the lust which her naked presence generated.
"Would you like to see the rest?" she asked in a husky whisper. Stone nodded silently, the twitching muscle in his forehead beating out a savage tempo.
Coyly, the nearly nude redhead hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her briefs. She knew that in a few moments he would be in control again, dominating her with his maleness as he stabbed into her with the hardness of his prick. But for a little while longer she could lead him; playing him like a fish, using her womanly body as bait. So long as her pussy remained shrouded by the satiny fabric of her undergarment, the promise of what was to come hold him spellbound. She reveled in her temporary control.
But her cunt longed for a different kind of satisfaction. It wanted to be penetrated; to be stretched by the brutal thickness of his massive rod. She could wait no longer. With a gracefully arcing movement of her wrists, she stripped the skimpy briefs from her loins, baring all to his torid gaze.
Stone's hand was moving absently over the tented prominence of his penis, stroking the turgid staff through the material of his pants. An expression of lustful excitement passed over his face as his eyes devoured the luscious ripeness of her cunt. Caressing her pussy with her fingers, Sue rubbed gently until its delicate flowers petaled open. Advancing slowly toward his desk, she slipped one tapering digit into the moistness of her cuntal crack
Stone drew his breath in sharply as his secretary unzipped his fly and opened his belt. He remained silent as she slid the pants and shorts down his hairy and muscular legs. But when her long and graceful fingers closed gently around the length of his throbbing staff, he moaned. The sound made Sue's vaginal liquids gush. She grasped him tighter and pulled his penis up and down as she finished undressing him. A toneless hum of sensuality filled the room as her hands brushed tenderly over his skin. When he was totally naked, she stepped back to look at his stocky and well-muscled body.
"It's a good thing you've got such a sweet cunt," growled Stone, a sneer passing over his granite features. "Because you're a rotten secretary."
The unexpected insult stung Sue like a slap. Before she could recover, his hands were on her tits, squeezing them roughly and pulling at her nipples. At first the carelessness of his fingers hurt her, making her stomach knot with fear. But as he tweaked and twisted her nubbins, they rose to puckering erection. He was turning her on.
Without another word, he pressed his lips against hers, his teeth nipping cruelly at the softness of her slightly parted lips. A little sob of pain caught in Sue's throat. But the discomfort only served to enhance her arousal. The muscles of her vulva flexed rhythmically as her body tingled with need.
His hands were everywhere, squeezing at her tits, clutching at her buttocks, and swiping possessively over the mound of her cunt. She lowered her body slightly, spreading her knees to allow him entry at her portal. Her blood was boiling with excitement. The lips of her pussy were coated with a sheen of sizzling juice.
His fingers bathed in it, spreading the syrupy moisture to the swollen nub of her clit and bringing a grunt from her tormented lungs. Lowering his head, he began chewing at a nipple, gnawing harder in response to her passionate cries of pleasure-pain. Two of his fingers were scissoring inside of her now, galvanizing her naked young body to action.
She was undulating wildly, her cunt rising and falling against the brutal caress of his hands. "Oh, fuck me, David," she gurgled, all reserve thrown to the winds. "Put your cock in my cunt and fill me with it."
"I will when I'm ready," he spat, refusing to relinquish control. "First I want a taste of that pussy of yours." Taking his hands from her cunt, he pushed her back suddenly, so that she lay across his desk with her buttocks balanced on its edge. Her legs, thrown wide apart in sensuous desire, dangled over the side, her toes barely grazing the carpet. Giving her titties one final squeeze, he knelt between her feet, burying his face in the warmth of her vaginal slash. As she felt his tongue spearing deep between the flanges of her cunt, she howled in desperate yearning.
"Oh, yes," she sobbed, her voice nearly drowned out by the slurping sounds which his mouth made as it sucked voraciously at her snatch. She could feel him drawing the thickly fleshed lips of her vulva between his teeth, nibbling on them just hard enough to keep her on the brink. She tottered between ecstasy and agony, glorying in the pain which his vibrating teeth brought to her pubis.
She could feel the juices of her womb flooding her vaginal chasm, soaking his countenance with the pungent syrup of desire. Each time his nose bumped the vibrating tip of her clit, she shuddered. The sensitive skin of her silken thighs crawled with goose flesh. He was pleasing her in a way that few men ever had.
Again and again his long pointed tongue snaked across the length of her clit. Its tapering tip sought out each convoluted cranny of sensitivity, while its broad pebbly blade slithered wetly over her labia. When he heard her croons of excitement, he dipped lower, wetting the nut of her ass hole before continuing his lingual exploration of her pussy.
Beside herself with arousal, she threw her legs over his shoulders and encircled his rhythmically bobbing head. Tensing all the muscles of her thighs and calves, she pulled him more tightly against her and began rotating her hips. She was climbing higher and higher up the ladder to fulfillment, and knew that in a moment the world would be exploding around her. "Oh, David," she sighed. "I'm going to cum."
Sadistically, Stone pulled away from her. "like hell you are," he snarled curtly. "You won't do anything until I say so. Now turn around."
Sue's body was shaking with desire, so close to completion that she could think of nothing else. Mindlessly, she obeyed him, getting to her feet and turning her back as he had commanded. like a rag doll, she allowed him to turn her, his hands pushing and pulling her body until she was bent over his desk, her melon breasts squashed against its smooth mahogany top. The wood felt cool against her feverish skin, but nothing could lower her temperature. His hands were already on her buttocks, lifting her ass a bit higher, moving her slightly to the left. His fingers tugged at her thighs, spreading her legs to ease the entry for which he was preparing.
She could feel the head of his swollen fuck-rod scuffing against her ass-cheeks as he moved up behind her. Then, his hands took her hips in a vise-like grip, pulling her back against his turgidly pulsating staff of desire. For a moment, its bulbous head foundered in her genital-anal crevice, as though undecided on which course to take. Without guidance from his fingers, it found its way to the flowering opening of her vulva. Lowering the weight of his muscular body onto her spread-eagled form, he eased the organ into her opening.
She felt the walls of her pussy rolling back before his massive plow. At first, she felt filled by its head, her cuntal orifice closing snugly around it as it forced its way inside. But the heat of her passion relaxed the grip of her genital muscles, and he easily drove another third of his tool into the breach.
"Oh, David. Oh, David," she wailed, the sounds of her supplication muffled by the desk top which pressed at her face. His cock in her twat felt so good that she wanted to scream. But she was too weak from the joy which mounted within her to make any but the softest of sounds. He humped powerfully against her, driving more of the rigid weapon inside. At last, she felt his pubic hair scraping at her ass. He was in all the way.
Almost at once, his hips began pumping in and out, stroking the length of his penis with the undulating tissue of her inner cunt. His cock was swelling, filling with the hot cargo of gism which his nuts had been producing. She could feel it stretching the elastic fibers of her vaginal canal, increasing the friction of their copulating combination. She was poised once again at the brink of explosion. But something held her back.
Then Stone leaned over her, burying his face in the fragrant softness of her flaming red hair. Reaching around her body, he filled his hands with the flesh of her titties, squeezing steadily to increase her sexual tension. "Now you can cum," he whispered coarsely. "Now, while I fill your pussy with juice."
Sue felt the heat of his semen flooding her belly and, at once, her passion overflowed. It was as if his words pulled the stopper which had been holding back her response. She was free now, free to loose the tension of her excitement.
like a chorus of bestial howls, their cries of passion filled the room as higher and higher they rose in the whirlwind of orgasmic climax. Each surging pump of his hose-like member brought a rippling gush of secretions from her womb. Each thumping drive of his pile driving prick brought a shimmering burst of blinding light to her consciousness.
For what seemed like forever, they remained tied together, connected by the shaft of his sperm-spewing cock. Even after their excitement had been spent, they remained sprawled across the desk. Then, as though nothing significant had taken place, Stone pulled his flaccid penis from her hole and began gathering his clothes.
"Get Ted Cooper on the phone for me right away," he said suddenly. His voice had become cold and business-like. He didn't even look at her. "If Sterling strikes out tonight, I may have a job for him. It never hurts to have an ace up the sleeve." Although Sue had not left the room, it was obvious that he was speaking to himself.
CHAPTER THREE
"I'm so glad that you're not angry about my refusal to sell," Karla said, seating herself on the couch next to Paul Sterling. She handed him the drink which she had just finished pouring and took a sip from her own glass. "Your partner, Mr. Stone, got very upset when I turned down his offer. I was afraid that you might feel the same way."
"Stone is a little pushy at times," Sterling admitted, frowning. "But I'll straighten him out. I admire you for wanting to hold on to the property, and as far as I'm concerned, all talk of sale is finished."
A wistful expression came over Karla's face as she looked into his eyes. "Dick and I always dreamed of having a place like this; a place where our daughter could grow up free and clean. When he died, I promised myself that I would stay here and keep it going. I owe it to Dick. And to Gretta."
"I think it's wonderful," Paul said, moving a little closer to her. "And I'm glad we got the subject out of the way over dinner. Because ever since we finished talking about business, I've been having a terrific time. You're really quite a woman."
Karla felt her face blushing at his complimentary remark. Mr. Sterling was very handsome and charming. And it had been so long since she had been with any man, that his kind words embarrassed her somewhat. But they also made her feel good-very good. Paul had been gentle and attentive ever since he first picked her up this evening. She had known that he wanted to buy her property, and thought, at first, that he was just buttering her up. But even after she made it clear that she would not sell, he had continued their conversation with enthusiastic sincerity.
She had talked all through dinner, telling him about her life. Once or twice, when she spoke of Dick and the love they had shared, she felt her eyes fill with tears. But Paul was understanding. Taking her soft hands in his, he had soothed and comforted her, managing to make her smile, and even bringing a laugh from her throat. He was very witty and articulate. Karla couldn't remember any time within the past two years when she had felt so good or had so much fun.
After their lavish and sumptuous dinner, they had gone to a quiet cocktail lounge to continue getting acquainted. There the atmosphere was soft and romantic. They sat at a corner table, sipping wine and listening to the trio that played in the background. Paul told her of some of the amusing cases which he had handled, keeping her thoroughly entertained. Even while they were dancing, their conversation continued. Karla felt almost as though she was making up in one evening for her two long years of loneliness.
When Paul drove her home, they were both reluctant to say good night. In a spontaneous attempt to make the evening last just a little bit longer, Karla invited him in for a drink. Without hesitation, Sterling accepted.
Now, as they sat together on the couch, Karla was beginning to feel nervous. She hadn't been alone with a man since her husband died, and wasn't sure of how to handle the situation. The sudden moment of silence which fell between them frightened her in an eerie kind of way. She searched her mind desperately for something to say; some words with which to fill the void and mask-even from herself-the thoughts which were swirling through her head.
Suddenly Paul's arm, thrown casually over the back of the couch, loosely encircled her shoulders. For a moment, she felt panic rising in her breast. But the mellow tone of his voice put her at her ease once again. "You know, Karla," he said softly. "I really want to get to know you better. I hope that we'll see other again."
The attractive young widow swallowed hard, at a loss for words with which to answer him. Then, suddenly, his lips met hers. For a moment she remained motionless, uncertain of how to react. Almost involuntarily, she began to return the pressure of his lips.
They kissed lightly, experimentally, as though neither person was sure of where the contact would lead. Gradually, however, the ardor of their embrace increased. Karla felt her breath becoming labored as the energy of desire flowed from mouth to mouth. It had been so long since she had been held by a man. So long since she responded to a masculine caress. She heard a soft moaning sound, and realized that it was coming from her own throat.
Both of Paul's arms were around her now, pulling her gently against him. Her hands pressed flat against his chest, as though she had stopped in the act of pushing him away. She felt tense, her muscles taut, her nerves straining for control. But as he kissed her, she felt herself relaxing. "Oh, Paul," she murmured when the contact was broken. "I don't know if I.. . "
But he was kissing her again, not waiting for her to finish the sentence. This time she responded at once, her arms snaking around his neck. Clinging to him as though drowning, she tasted the manly flavor of his mouth. The tip of his tongue was darting between his lips to play at her gums. She felt her heartbeat quicken as they soul-kissed. Clumsily, as though she had forgotten how, she met the thrusts of his tongue with her own.
For a long time they kissed, their tongues dancing hungrily from one mouth to the other. Her eyes were tightly shut, blocking out the arousing sight of his attractively molded features. But a vision of his face filled her brain. She felt weak and confused, unsure of what to do next.
Breaking the kiss, she turned away, unwilling to let him see her. Her skin had flushed pink, her entire body suffused with a moist and crawling warmth. She knew how much she needed male companionship, but somehow she felt guilty. Holding and kissing him this way made her feel unfaithful to Dick. She had thought it would never happen again; believed that with Dick gone there could never be another man. Now, however, she didn't know what to think.
Taking her face gently between his hands, Paul turned her toward him once again. There was a twinkle in his crystal blue eyes and the hint of a smile playing around his lips. The cleft in his chin and the dimples in his cheeks were accentuated by his expression. "Don't be frightened," he whispered. "I won't hurt you. I promise."
"I know that," Karla said, her voice barely audible. "It's just that it's been so long. I don't know . . . " Sterling silenced her by kissing her once again.
This time there was no hesitance in his embrace. This time he let his desire be known. The strength of his arms and the firm pressure of his mouth on hers made Karla feel weak and in need of support. Parting her lips, she allowed his plundering tongue to explore the honeyed cavern of her mouth.
Paul's fingers trailed lightly over the skin of her throat, making her body tingle with excitement. Turning his face slightly to one side, he began nibbling at her earlobe, his tongue darting out to jab and stroke the sensitive tissues. Karla sighed in aroused confusion.
"Be gentle with me, Paul," she implored. "I'm so frightened."
"Don't be," he whispered softly. His hands had journeyed lower to pass slowly and deliberately over the swollen mounds of her breasts. As she felt his fingers exploring her through the material of her top, she shivered. She wanted him to stop. But even more than that, she wanted him to go on. Kissing her on the lips once again, he began to toy with the button at her throat.
Karla drew her breath in sharply. Instinctively she reached for his hand, meaning to stop him. But when her fingers closed over his, she found that she could not push him away. When he succeeded in opening the button, she guided him on to the next one. And then the next. Her head in a whirl, she felt her blouse fall open. His hand moved freely over the well-filled cups of her bra.
"Oh, Paul," she sighed. "Oh, Paul." He lowered his face, gluing his lips to the softness of her heaving breasts. Looking down at him, she kissed the brown hair of his head, her whole body trembling in excitement.
His hands were cupping her tits, lifting them higher as his lips trailed wetly over their shapely contours. She was growing short of breath. The fear which she felt was gradually leaving her, a thrill of anticipation replacing it in her heart. When his hand moved around her to begin searching for the clasp of her bra, she arched her back away from the couch to assist him. Holding her breath as he worked at the snap, she met his lips once again, their tongues duelling passionately. When the snap came undone, she sighed.
Carefully, he slipped his fingers under the cups and lifted the garment away from her. For a moment, the material clung to her full and voluptuous flesh. Then it fell away, leaving her pink-capped boobs unfettered and totally bare. Quickly, he slipped her top off over her shoulders and dropped it to the couch beside her. A moment later, he dropped her brassiere on top of it.
She felt panic returning to her for a moment. But as soon as his lips closed over her nipple, she relaxed. He sucked gently at first, bringing one little pink nubbin to full and rosy erection before moving on to the next. By now her breath was coming in short wheezing pants. Nipping lightly with his teeth, he scraped the sensitive tissues erotically. Then, with his tongue extended, he lapped long slow spiraling circles around the pebbled surfaces of her aureoles.
Karla sobbed, her fingers tangled demandingly in her hair. Insistently, she moved his head from one side to the other while his tongue bathed her sensitive titties in heated saliva. "Oh, Paul," she sobbed, her voice cracking uncontrollably. "I'd almost forgotten how good that could feel."
He looked up to smile into her sparkling eyes, the long cylindrical center of one turgid nipple still grasped between his lips. With his hands, he massaged the softness of her tits, pushing the massive globes together and then pulling them apart to reveal the stark whiteness of the pale skin which lined the valley between them.
"Karla," he murmured softly. "I want to help you remember." With fluttering fingers, he caressed the bare skin of her belly, working his way lower toward the waistband of her pants. With no uncertainty, he began to work at the snap which held it together. His intentions were clear.
The young widow tried to regain her composure, realizing that she had a decision to make-a decision which could not be undone once it was made. He was about to undress her: bare her body to his view, to expose her most private parts to his touch and his gaze. She hardly knew the man. They had barely gotten acquainted. But she wanted him! More than she had wanted anything in the past two years.
Her voice soft with uncertainty, she said, "Paul, wait." Then, as he stopped to look imploringly into her eyes, she made up her mind. Gretta is away for the night," she said deliberately. "Why don't we go to my bedroom?"
As she spoke the words, she realized their significance. She was committed now. She was giving herself to him to end the sexual solitude which had been all that she knew since her husband's plane went down. For the barest instant, she regretted having said it. But then, as his lips brushed affectionately over the skin of her breast, she knew that it had been no mistake.
All at once she was in a hurry, suddenly desperate for his affection. It had been so long since she saw a man's penis; so long since she held one in her hand. "Please," she said, turning away in embarrassment. "Please, let's hurry."
Without waiting, she rose from the couch and headed for the stairs. She could hear his footsteps behind her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to turn around and look at him. Running to her room, she threw open the door and stopped, waiting for him to catch up with her. An instant later, she felt his hand on her shoulder.
Without any warning, he lifted her into his powerful arms. "Just relax, Karla," he whispered. "I want to make you feel good all over." Gently, he laid her on the bed. Then he stepped back to look at her.
Karla felt his gaze playing over like a beam of heated light. It embarrassed her at first, causing her to face the wall in an effort to avoid his glance. But he just stood there staring at her and waiting for her to look at him once again. When she did, he smiled. "You're a very beautiful woman," he whispered softly. Just looking at you this way excites me."
A moment later he was beside the bed and dropping to his knees. His hands worked swiftly, tugging and pulling at her pants until they fell away from her. Then, with a quick movement of his fingers, he stripped her panties from her as well. Without even thinking about it, Karla lifted herself from the mattress to make it easier for him. Then she was naked.
He drew his breath in sharply as he looked at her again. This time she did not turn away. Rising slowly from his knees, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. His tie and his shirt followed quickly, leaving him clad in nothing but his shorts. The front was already bulging with the meaty hardness of his cock. The sight of it made Karla's lonesome pussy salivate.
"Let me see it," she pleaded. "Let me see all of you."
Swiftly he removed his shorts, bending over to pull them off over his feet. Then, straightening, he turned to face her. His cock was stiff and swollen, like a pointed staff poised for battle. It was long and thick, with a head that pulsed with desire. Its shaft was gnarled and potent, twitching in his anxiety. She could see a thick blue vein beating just beneath the surface of its reddened skin.
Karla wanted to reach out and touch the turgid rod, but she just stared, her hands remaining on the mattress beside her. She bit her lip as she caressed his manhood with her gaze. His scrotum was full and heavy, hanging between his legs like a sack of weighty stones. The reddish brown hair which covered it was curly and coarse. One short step at a time, he approached her.
Each time he moved, his prick bobbed up and down before him, making her think of the pleasures which soon they would share. When he reached the side of her bed, he leaned forward, touching each of her nipples with the tip of his finger. Then, perching on the edge of the mattress he cupped her breasts in his hands.
Her body began to move as though touched with an electrical current. She felt his fingers gliding over her in long undulating strokes which began at her bosom and did not end until they reached her sculptured ankles. When he passed over the mound of her sex, he petted it lightly. As he stroked upwards he caressed her inner thighs, spreading them with the gentle command of his fingers.
She made herself flexible, parting her legs to reveal the moistened scarlet gash of her hungrily yearning cunt. Placing one hand over its prominence, he applied tender pressure to heighten her excitement. She felt her little clit spring to attention. The moisture in her twat was flowing in waves, bathing his caressing fingers with heated and fragrant dew. Her voice was an uncontrollable force which bubbled in her throat, filling the air with the passionate sounds of her desire.
"Oh, yes," she wailed, sobbing impatiently. "Touch me there. Touch me there. It feels so good I can't believe it."
She wanted to hold him, to feel the heft of his prick in her tender white hand. But she was embarrassed, afraid to take the initiative. As his finger found its way between the lips of her pussy, however, she could resist her urges no longer. Reaching for him she closed one hand over the length of his tool. It felt strong and manly-even bigger than her husband's had been. She explored its dampening tip with delicate fingers, handling the fleshy cylinder like a stick of dynamite which could explode at any moment. Slowly, cautiously, she traced the shape of its shaft following its masculine lines until she arrived at its hair-covered base.
Emboldened by the smooth touch of his prick, she brought her other hand to his loins, seeking the bag of his testes. She rolled them in her fingers, as though she had never before touched so wondrous a device. While she played with his nuts, her other hand jerked rhythmically on his rod.
Paul's fingers were plunging into her pussy now, carrying the moisture which flowed within it to the swollen bud of her clitoris just above. Leaning forward, he kissed passionately at her belly, the tip of his tongue making circles around the deeply sunken navel. She was huffing and panting bestially, her soul buoying high on the rising cloud of excitement. Drawing her knees back, she opened her cunt even wider. The smell of her excitement filled the room.
Allowing her to pull him by the handle of his cock, Sterling lay down beside her. He stretched out fully, taking her in his arms to press the softness of her womanly body against him. Her breasts flattened, the pointed nipples boring searing holes in his chest. His cock jabbed at her lower abdomen.
Karla felt its tip against her and knew what she wanted now more than anything. Reaching between their bodies to take hold of his prick, she rubbed its thick and syrupy head against her skin. Moving it lower, she dragged its tumid tip through the tangled jungle of her golden pubic hair, bringing it to rest for a moment against the quivering nubbin of her clit. Then, rolling over to pull him on top of her, she aimed the swollen organ at the slit between her thighs.
Paul supported his weight on his elbows and knees, allowing just the end of his magnificent penis to touch her. The lips of her pussy had rolled back to welcome the swollen fuck-pole. They were kissing lightly at his head. Slowly, a millimeter at a time, he lowered his weight onto her. Karla gasped as she felt his cock boring into her cunny.
It was so much thicker than his finger, and so much stiffer. For a moment, she wondered whether she could take all of it into her without screaming. But as it drilled deeper, her elastic vaginal muscles adapted to its girth. Her cunt closed up tightly around him, increasing the friction of his entry. For the first time in more than two years she lost consciousness of everything but the overpowering needs of her feminine body. She wanted more of him. She wanted all of him.
Arching her back, she lifted her buttocks above the mattress, her cunt reaching out for more cock. Deeper and deeper he plunged. The tissues of her inner vaginal cavern parted before his onslaught. It seemed endless. At last, however, she felt his hairy pubis scouring at her cuntal mound. She knew he was in to the hilt.
Instinctively, without needing to think of what she was doing, she began to rotate her hips. like a creature possessed by its own reproductive drives, she threw her pussy up at him, skewering herself on the solid stiffness of his prick. She could feel its head bumping bluntly against her cervix, his balls caressing the softness of her upturned anal crack. He was filling his hands with her tits while his lips nibbled sensuously at her throat and shoulders. She hung suspended on a cushion of lust as he lifted her closer toward the height of ecstatic fulfillment.
She wanted the pleasure to continue forever. But she had been too long without it. She felt a climax beginning to build almost as soon as he entered her. After a moment, she realized that holding it back would be hopeless. "I'm going to cum," she whispered. "I can't wait any longer."
"Don't wait," Paul murmured huskily. "We have the whole night ahead of us. And a lot of catching up to do." As he spoke he humped forward, driving his lust-hardened cock to its limit in her cavity. Already the warmth of her secretions were beginning to bathe his staff. Harder and harder he bucked, each thrusting stroke like a tug on the strings of her climax.
At last it broke around her, filling her body with heated ecstasy and drowning all thought. Wave upon wave of orgasmic delight rippled over her, wrenching mindless screams of pleasure from her lungs. No longer ashamed of her needs, she abandoned herself to them, hardly aware of the river of semen which was flowing from his penis. She felt real! Fulfilled! For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she was getting what she needed.
When it was over, they lay in each other's arms without speaking a word. Both of them knew that there was more joy to be had. The night was young.
CHAPTER FOUR
"All right," Gretta said impatiently. "You said that you'd show it to me out here in the orchard. Now, what is it?" She tossed her soft brown hair coquettishly, her pretty blue eyes sparkling as she spoke.
John Willows looked at her for a moment and then smiled superciliously. He was enjoying her suspense, and wanted to make it last as long as possible. "Not so fast," he said. "If anybody sees us with this, we'll be in big trouble." He peered dramatically through the almond trees, shading his deep brown eyes with his hand and brushing back a strand of sandy hair. John was tall and muscular, looking at first glance like a man. But he was only fifteen, a year older than Gretta.
"Come on," she said breathlessly. "What have you got?" Her interest was obvious in the tone of her voice. She made no effort to hide it. She was about to burst with curiosity. She and her boyfriend frequently came to this spot in the west orchard when they wanted to be alone. Here they could kiss and pet without any fear of being seen. Sometimes, she even allowed him to unbutton her blouse, exposing her naked breasts to the air and warm sunshine. They had never even come close to being caught. So for John to be acting this paranoid, he must have something really good to show her.
When he had stretched out the moments of waiting as long as he possibly could, John turned to face her again. "Here," he said. "Let's sit on the ground by this tree." As he lowered himself, his back against the rough-barked trunk, he took a paper back book from his pocket.
"A book?" Gretta sputtered. "Big deal! We've looked at books before. Why did you make such a fuss about it?" Her hands on her hips, she stood glaring at him defiantly. She knew that she looked sexy in her tight white shorts and vee necked halter top. She could tell by the way he was staring at her, his eyes flitting anxiously over her bare midriff and thighs.
Gretta was tall-even taller than her mother. Her figure was lithe and youthful, with breasts that had already begun to develop and hips that were girlishly flared.
She felt her boyfriend's gaze lingering on her titties. It made her feel all warm inside.
John grinned smugly. "This is no ordinary book," he said. It's got pictures in it. All kinds of pictures."
Gretta's expression of sophisticated indifference faded at once. "You mean...?" she began.
"Yep," he said. "Definitely rated 'X'.
"Ooooh. How did you . . . Where did you get it?" she stuttered. With her adolescent curiosity aroused, she sounded like a child in spite of her deliciously curving figure.
"I found it in the bunkhouse," John answered. "Right after the Mexican migrants left." John's father was one of the most important tomato growers in the Valley, and farm life was as natural to the boy as hay is to horses. There was much to be learned from the land and its cultivation. But there was something to be learned also from the itinerant field workers his father hired to help with the planting and harvesting. "What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Why don't you sit down and look?"
Gretta dropped to the ground beside him at once, snuggling close and rubbing her shoulder against his. John put his left arm around her, holding the book between them with his right. "Here," he said. "You turn the pages."
Gretta was captivated by the cover. On it was a photograph of an attractive long-haired woman. All she was wearing was a pair of filmy panties which barely covered the obvious shadow of her crotch. The rest of her was fully exposed. The young teenager's eyes widened at the sight of the woman's breasts. They were huge-the size of melons. The nipples were a dark, dark brown, and totally distended. Emblazoned in red across her middle was the book's title, FREE WOMEN.
Gretta looked quickly down at herself, automatically comparing her own adolescent titties with the boobs in the picture. Hoping John hadn't noticed, she looked surreptitiously up at him. His eyes seemed to be glazed as he stared the photograph. He was almost unaware of his pretty girlfriend's presence.
"The pictures inside are even better," he mumbled, his voice husky with excitement. "There are men and women together."
Gretta felt her little nipples hardening inside her bra at the thought of what she was about to see. She had heard about books like this, but until now the most pornographic thing she had ever seen was the centerfold of a magazine which John had once showed her. The woman in that picture also had big boobs, but the expression on her face had not been as wanton as that in the picture on the book cover.
Her hands trembling, she opened the book. The very first picture which she saw in it shocked her. There were a man and a woman in it, lying on a rumpled bed. The man didn't seem to have any clothes on, although the woman was lying across his groin and abdomen hiding his genitals from view. The woman was clad in bra and panties, but the bra had been unsnapped and pulled back to expose her tits. Her head was pillowed on the man's shoulder, her face wearing a beatific smile.
One of his arms was around her, his hand loosely cupping her breast. From between his fingers, Gretta could see the nipple. It was fully erect. The other one was just a hard, although he wasn't even touching it. His free hand was thrust into the front of her panties which he had succeeded in pulling down far enough to expose a band of thickly curling pubic hair. The woman's legs were spread apart, and Gretta was sure that she could see his finger in her cunt right through the filmy crotch band.
"Wow," she said softly. She was having trouble catching her breath. If she had been able to take her eyes from the picture, she would have seen that John was too. Her lips felt very dry. She licked them nervously.
"Turn the page," John whispered. "The next one's even better." As he spoke, he drew her close to him. The tips of his fingers grazed lightly at the swollen contour of her booby. For the moment, he would attempt to go no further.
The next photo was of the woman on the cover. In this one, she was seated on a table fully naked and facing a large mirror. Her knees were drawn up and back to expose the hair-covered gash of her vagina. The fingers of one of her hands framed the puckered opening, while the other plunged between its lips. The sight shocked Gretta.
"Oh, my God," she muttered, gnawing nervously at her lower lip.
"Yeah, ain't that something," John said softly.
Gretta breathed deeply, unable to speak. She had never seen anything so obscene in her life.
"Did you ever try that?" her boyfriend asked, a little shyly.
Gretta's face reddened. "John Willows," she gasped. "How could you? What a thing to ask."
"Well, did you?" he repeated persistently. "I thought we tell each other everything."
"Some things are just too personal," the pretty teenager retorted. She knew that she would answer his question. She wanted to. The conversation was making her all dewy inside. She swallowed hard.
"I've done it," John confessed quietly.
"Lots of times."
Gretta giggled. "How could you?" she asked. "You don't have a . . . "
John laughed. "No," he said. "But I've got what I've got. And I've played with it lots of times. Now how about you?"
Gretta looked away, suddenly interested in a squirrel which was shelling an almond on the branch of a nearby tree. "Me too," she said at last, almost too softly to be heard. "But never in front of a mirror." She could hear her boyfriend's breathing quicken, and suddenly she wanted to tell him more.
"Sometimes," she said, looking him right in the eye, "I take off my pajamas at night and lie naked on my bed. Then I run my hands all over my body. I touch myself here, and here, and here." As she spoke, she pointed first to her breasts, and then to her belly, and then to her inner thighs. She watched John's eyes following her every move.
"Then," she continued. "When it feels so good that I think I can't stand it any more, I touch myself here." This time, she cupped her pubic mound quickly with her hand. Suddenly unable to face him, she turned away again, her hand remaining at her crotch. John was wheezing softly.
"What happens then?" he asked quietly.
But Gretta took her hand away from her tingling pussy and returned it to the book. "I think we'd better turn the page," she said, her voice pitched somewhat higher than usual. With a vain attempt at nonchalance, she riffled pages, stopping at random at a full color photograph.
There was three people in this one: two men and a woman. The woman was seated between the men on a couch. All three were naked. The woman's knees were spread, her huge winking eye of a cunt staring out at Gretta and John. The breathless teenagers stared right back.
She was holding the cock of the man on her right in one hand. It looked brutal and huge, mesmerizing Gretta. What captivated her most, however, was what the woman was doing to the other man. Bending over him her tits dangling onto his hairy thighs, she was sucking his penis deep into her throat. The man's face wore an expression of ecstasy, as though he had left this earth to go on a long astral journey.
"How gross," Gretta murmured, still not taking her eyes from the erotic photograph. "How could anyone do something like that?"
John's gaze was also riveted to the page, although he had seen these pictures several times already. "What do you mean?" he asked absently. "Making it with two guys at once?"
"No," she answered. "That must be fun. I meant sucking on his thing that way. I could never do that."
"I once heard my dad say that that's something only a prostitute will do," John said softly. He stopped to clear his throat and lick his dry and cracking lips.
But Gretta was so fascinated by the photo that she hardly heard him. At last, she turned the page again, anxious to know what other perversions would be pictured. She felt all trembling and warm. A hot tingling current seemed to be emanating from her loins. Her tits felt flushed with blood and swollen to twice their normal size. She wondered if John noticed. Her pussy was itchy and wet, some of its moisture spilling out to dampen the crotch of her panties. She hoped that it wouldn't show on her tight white shorts.
As she focused on the next full color picture, she felt John's fingers move to the strings which tied her halter shut at the back of her neck. His hands were shaking, and she knew that he was as aroused as she. Nervously, she looked around the orchard. Except for the squirrel, they were completely alone. Heaving a sigh, she cuddled against him as he removed her top. "My bra," she whispered. "Take off my bra too."
John's trembling fingers struggled at her back in search of a clasp. "Damn," he muttered in frustration. "What's the combination to this thing?"
Gretta giggled. "It's in the front, silly," she said. While her boyfriend watched, she reached for the snap at the center of the band which held her bra's cups together. Twisting it slowly, she worked it open, the garment falling apart to reveal the whiteness of her conical breasts.
Short of breath, her boyfriend peeled the wispy underthing from her. Then, with a strangled groan, he buried his face between the twin mounds of her tits. "Oh, Gretta," he sighed. "I love touching your titties."
"I love it too," she murmured. "Play with them while we look at the pictures."
Intrigued by her suggestion, John sat up again, taking her boobs in his two hands. He petted and stroked them clumsily, his fingers brushing across the swollen tips of her rosy nipples. She almost forgot about the book. Then, flipping its pages, she stopped at another obscene picture.
In it a man and woman were sitting together on the edge of a bed, their arms around each other. The woman was totally naked, the whiteness of her breasts stark against the tan of her midriff and shoulders. The man beside her wore only his trousers. There was a drink in his hand. The woman, her eyes staring deeply into his, had unzipped his fly and extracted his penis. It was long and thick, engorged with heated blood and bloated with desire. Its head was full and swollen, shaped like the cap of a giant edible mushroom. Gretta hummed softly at the sight of the oversized organ.
"Oooooh," she said, a note of awe in her voice. "He's really got a big thing."
John snorted. "A really big what?" he demanded. "You mean his prick?"
"His prick," she echoed in a whisper. The sound of the dirty word fascinated her, sending chills of passion through her youthfully yearning body. "A really big prick." This time she said it louder and without hesitation. Its sound seemed to caress her throat.
"Shit," John replied. "It isn't so big. You ought to see mine."
Gretta felt a rush of heated excitement pass through her body. It seemed to start in the center of her puckered little pussy and gush like a fountain through her entire being. She had felt John's cock up against her once or twice, when they embraced. And once, she had even stroked it through his pants. But she had never let things go any further. Now however, the thought was simply too appealing to resist.
"Show me," she said deliberately.
For a moment, a look of surprise passed over John's face. Then, before the mood could be broken, he undid the buckle of his belt and opened the front of his pants. His cock was tangled in the fabric of his brief white undershorts, and he reddened with embarrassment as he struggled to work it free. Finally, he slipped his jeans and shorts down over his hips, and his long youthful prick sprang into view.
Gretta gasped at the sight. "Oh, John," she murmured in a daze. "It's so huge. And so hard." Her hand, as if acting on its own accord, reached out for it. But when her fingers were just a fraction of an inch away, she lost her nerve and stopped in mid-grab. Gingerly, she stroked the throbbing organ's smooth white underbelly with the tips of her extended fingers. Her boyfriend gasped, and began cupping her breasts once again. The picture book fell forgotten to the grass.
Gretta's hand seemed to gain confidence as her fingers tightened hungrily around the shaft of his pulsating staff. She could feel the little veins which crisscrossed its length, throbbing against the smoothness of his youthful organ. Experimentally, she glided her hand up and down the length of his tool.
She felt weak; dizzy. Her head was filled with the sound of celestial harmony as the rhythm of her heart matched the beating of his palpitating cock. Its surface was moist and slick with the oozing secretion of his testicles. The fluid sheen lubricated the movements of her fingers as they tremulously masturbated his prick.
Slowly, with curiosity, she explored its unfamiliar contours. It was so long. So stiff. She played with the swollen purple bulb which was its head, stopping to ring her thumb and forefinger around the ridge which circled its crown. Her tender cunt cringed as she imagined it being invaded by so massive an instrument.
Cooing quietly, she stroked and petted the pale young penis. She could feel it swelling still larger under her finger's ministrations as its tissues filled with the heated blood of passion. The sounds of desire which bubbled from her boyfriend's throat, the acrid aroma of his arousal, his uninhibited response to her digital manipulations-all heightened the need which was building in her pubescent body. She wanted him to be touching her too. She wanted to experience some of the pleasure which was making him croon this way. She wanted his hand on her at the same time that her hand was on him.
While she jerked and pulled on his dick, she opened the front of her shorts with her free hand. John let go of her tits to cover her hand with one of his. She could feel him shaking as he realized that she was undressing for him. When her shorts were un-snapped, she stopped and looked into his eyes. Her own were glazed with lust.
"Touch me, John," she said passionately. "Touch me like I'm touching you." Moving her hand downward, she punctuated her plea with a gentle squeeze of his scrotum.
Biting his lip, John pushed and tugged at her shorts, working them laboriously down over her hips and buttocks. Then, practically tearing them as he pulled them from her ankles, he slipped his fingers into her white cotton panties. They tangled briefly in the thick and cushiony pillow of her cunt hair. Then he began pulling down her drawers.
Gretta held her breath as her most intimate body orifice was exposed to her boyfriend's burning view. Her hand still clutching at his prick, she looked down to see her panties slip away from her cunt. The rush of air which warmed and caressed her puffy labia made her moan in shimmering excitement. His hands trembling uncontrollably, John placed them both on her hairy mound.
All at once, Gretta felt the fluids of desire rising in the cup of her mound. His fingers were on her, petting the prominence of her mons; dipping into the honeyed cleft of her slit. It felt better than anything ever had before. She wanted him to know it. Placing her lips to his ear, she whispered, "Oh, John, that feels so good." She began jerking at his cock once again.
Turning his head, John pressed his lips against hers and buried his tongue in the velvet softness of her throat. She sucked voraciously on it. Somehow the touch of his hands on her pussy had inflamed her basic instincts. No longer a rational person, she had become a bundle of cravings; an exploding nebula of emotion. Leaning back, she lay on the ground, spreading her legs to make her cunt open up to him. Joh lay beside her, rubbing his stiff and aching cock against the skin of her naked hip. As his fingers began to enter the warmth of her vaginal cave, she threw her arms tightly around his neck, pressing his face to her youthfully pointed tits.
The inexperienced boy kissed the fleshy mounds noisily, making circles around the pink and turgid caps. Then, propelled by the instinct which keeps humanity alive, he wrapped his lips around one swollen nipple and began to suck. His middle finger had slipped into her cunt as far as the first knuckle, and Gretta thought she would die from the pleasure. The lips of her virginal opening closed tight around the plundering digit as though trying to exclude the ravager. But the tightness increased the friction of his entry and inflamed her excitement. Arching her back, she lifted her pussy up against him, driving another inch of finger into the crack. It felt too good to stop.
"Stick it in deeper," she murmured huskily. "It feels wonderful."
John grunted passionately and did as she bid him. With a rippling moan of excitement, he buried the full length of his finger in her syrupy slash. She felt the palm of his hand pressing flat against her pubic mound and rotated her hips to press firmly against him. Her teenaged clit was swollen and sensitive, making each little movement a thing of ecstasy.
She could feel the tip of his penis pressing tightly against her thigh as he moved his body against her. Reaching for him, she took the swollen staff in her hand once again and began pulling it up and down. She tried to match the tempo of her masturbation with the rhythm of his finger as it slid in and out of her cunt. She drew her knees back-like the mirror-woman in the picture book-and looked down at herself. She could see the hair of her cunt curling brown around the whiteness of his hand. And she could see the shining juices of her femininity coating his skin with a patina of excitement. Shifting her gaze, she looked at his loins.
His cock was a throbbing red pole, twitching and thumping under the loving touch of her fingers. Gleaming at its tip was a glistening drop of fluid. With her fingers, she spread it over the distended mushrooming prickhead. As she did so, she felt the organ jump. Clutching it tightly, she massaged its burgeoning girth. The sight of her fingers curling around the manly tool inflamed her.
She felt her little cunny salivating, pouring its juices over the hands which stroked and explored it. She was so hot she could almost smell smoke. Shutting her eyes tightly, she allowed herself to be lifted like a curling wisp hanging on the currents of desire, sailing the crest of her adolescent yearning. A volcano was erupting inside her, filling her with the white heat of its flowing molten stone. She could hear the air around her snapping and sizzling as she neared the point of explosion.
John's penis was galloping in her hand, its tubes filling with the liquid product of his loins. She sensed that something was about to happen to both of them. Then it did.
The young prick began spitting, spewing its cargo of semen in a series of long curvings arcs through the air. Gretta even felt some of the heated moisture splatter onto her naked skin. It felt warm, and slick, coating her with its erotic viscosity. At that moment, her own river started to flow.
In a series of rollicking explosions, the dynamic virginal orgasm overtook her. It was un-like anything she had ever experienced at her own masturbating hands. Un-like anything she had ever experienced in any way. It was magnificent.
Flames of passion licked at her libido, heating the tissues of her climaxing cunt to crackling intensity. Each movement of his pussy plundering finger heightened her pleasure. Spiraling shock-waves of orgasmic sensation flooded her being. "Oh, John," she moaned. "I can't believe what's happening. Oh, John." The rest of her words were lost in a long blabbering moan.
Her boyfriend's fingers continued pistoning into her pussy long after her orgasm was finished. Finally, as his prick softened, his movements glided to a stop. Side by side on the ground, they lay in silence, each lost in the newly discovered world of sexual ecstasy. Finally, Gretta opened her eyes.
Everything looked hazy. At first she thought that her vision had been blurred by her experience. Then she realized that the air was full of smoke. All around her, almond trees were being consumed by flame. Leaping tongues of yellow heat danced from branch to branch and from tree to tree.
"The orchard," she screamed. "The orchard is on fire."
John sprang to his feet, grabbing for their clothes. In an instant, both of them were dressed. She was in a panic, not knowing what to do. Running from tree to tree, she tried to beat out the flames with her hands, but John pushed her away.
"It's too late for that," he shouted. "I'll turn on the irrigation sprinklers. You go call the fire department." His voice sounded firm and authoritative. Somehow it gave Gretta direction.
"Be careful, John," she called. But he was already running toward the pump house.
CHAPTER FIVE
"No, I do not have an appointment," Karla said to the white-haired secretary in Paul Sterling's law office reception room. A trace of anger was evident in her voice. "But I'm certain he'll see me. My name is Karla Thompson."
"He's with a client right now," the secretary answered, her tone professionally pleasant. "Why don't you have a seat and I'll tell him you're here."
Clenching her teeth, Karla perched on the edge of a leather chair against the wall. She glanced impatiently around her at the tasteful furnishings of the office. The floor was carpeted with a thick and cushiony oriental rug. Several original oil paintings decorated the mahogany-paneled walls. The lighting was indirect, but there was ample illumination throughout the room.
On a small wooden table beside her were several magazines. Picking one up, Karla began leafing through it idly. But though her eyes were on the pictures in the pages before her, her mind was not on what they saw. She was furious; ready to give Paul Sterling a piece of her mind.
When the fire department official called her this morning, she had been shocked by what he had to tell her. The fire in the west orchard had been started with gasoline. The fire marshal scolded her like a child, telling her to be more careful in the future. When she suggested the possibility of arson, he only laughed. But Karla knew that the fire was no accident. She and Gretta never kept gasoline in the orchards. They had discussed it many times. Safety was always a kind of fetish with her.
Somebody started that fire deliberately, no matter what the fire department thought. And there was only one conceivable reason. A certain real estate company named Stone and Sterling wanted her land. The property was valuable to them, and they were determined to make her sell. They must have been responsible. She just wanted to scream.
At least Stone had been honest about it. He admitted that he wasn't ready to give up when she rejected his first offer. But Sterling! That louse! He had tricked her, conned her. When she said she wouldn't sell, he pretended to be understanding. He even said he admired her. Then he seduced her, taking advantage of her loneliness to lure her into bed with him. He even pretended to like her. Then, when that didn't work, he set fire to the orchard.
She felt tense, her muscles tight like the strings of a violin. She didn't know what she would say to him, how she could express the anger which she felt. So lost was she in her reverie, that she didn't notice him step through his office door. She wasn't aware of his presence until he was standing directly in front of her.
"Karla," he said. "I'm so glad to see you. How did you know I was back?"
Karla looked up, bewildered by the sudden return to reality. Paul was smiling warmly, his even white teeth flashing. He really looked happy to see her.
Suddenly she knew that she had been wrong. He could never have been mixed up in anything like that. He was too nice; too good. He genuinely liked her. She could tell.
"Oh, Paul," she said, her lower lip trembling. "I just don't know what to do." Her eyes were beginning to fell with tears.
"I've been out of town," he said with concern. "What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong." As he spoke, he placed his arm lightly across her shoulders. His very touch comforted her. "Come inside," he said softly. "And tell me all about it." Then, turning to his secretary, he said, "No calls or interruptions until further notice, please." Quickly, he led Karla into his office, closing the door behind them.
Karla felt terrible. How she had misjudged him. It was obvious that he knew nothing about the fire. How awful it would have been if she accused him. Suddenly, no longer able to hold back the flood of emotion, she began to sob. As Paul guided her gently to the couch, she cried openly. Sitting down, she buried her face in her hands.
In an instant, he was beside her, drawing her face to his chest. For a moment, he said nothing, stroking her hair comfortingly as she wept. Then he said in a firm but gentle voice, "Now stop crying and tell me what's wrong."
Karla looked up at him. Gradually she managed to bring her sobs under control. At last, she dabbed with her knuckle at the tears which remained on her cheek and, breathing deeply, she started to speak. "Somebody tried to burn my orchard," she said. "Gretta and her boyfriend were almost caught in the fire."
Paul's brow knitted in concern. "When did this happen?" he asked. "And what makes you think someone did it deliberately?"
"Yesterday," she answered. "Late in the afternoon. When the fire marshal called this morning, he said that it was started by gasoline igniting near some of the trees. He thought it was our fault."
"Are you certain that it wasn't," Paul asked gently. There was a note of lawyer-like professionalism in his tone.
"Paul, I know that it wasn't," Karla answered with determination. "We're very careful about gasoline. It's kept only in the equipment shed. We would never leave it in the orchards." Her voice was cracking with emotion, her eyes sparkling with righteous anger. "Somebody did it deliberately. I just know it!"
"Who would want to hurt you that way?" he asked.
Karla's face flushed with shame. For a moment she turned away, staring at the floor. Then she looked back into his eyes. "I hate to admit it," she said, hesitantly. "But when I first came up here, I thought it might be you and your partner."
Sterling looked stunned. "Karla . . . " he began.
She interrupted him. "I realize now that I was wrong," she said. "I feel so guilty about having even thought it. It's just that your partner was so adamant about buying my property." Her voice trailed off.
Sterling gripped her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Stone is a ruthless businessman," he said. "And he does want your place very badly. But I'm certain that he's completely legitimate. I'm sure he wouldn't stoop to those tactics. But I'll talk with him, I promise. You mean a lot to me, Karla. And I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
She was already beginning to feel better. It had been so long since she had anyone to share her troubles with. So long since anyone cared. Paul's strength and his reason gave her a comforting feeling of security. She could lean on him. She was no longer alone.
"How much damage was done?" he asked.
"About ten acres," she answered sadly. "The entire west orchard. At least half the trees were burned out completely. And the nuts on the ones that remained were all water-damaged. They'll rot on the trees before they ripen." Her hands started to shake, her voice beginning to quaver. She knew that she was about to cry again, and wanted desperately to hold it back. But she couldn't. Then the dam broke, and she was sobbing once more.
Moving closer to her, Sterling took her in his arms. Hugging her gently, he pressed his lips to her eyes. A moment later he was kissing her. The touch and warmth of his embrace made her feel sheltered and secure. Still sobbing quietly, she turned to meet his lips with her own. They kissed softly, the warmth of their emotion passing freely between them. Gradually, the mutual pressure increased. Karla felt her unhappiness turning to passion as his tongue glided over her lips.
"I'm falling in love with you, Karla," he whispered.
"I know," she responded. "I feel it too." Her answer startled her. She didn't know she felt that way until that moment. In a flash, her tension melted, all her muscles relaxing. She was safe. She was in his arms. Pressing her body against him, she drew strength from his presence.
Paul's hands were moving over her, caressing her back through the smooth material of her blouse. She felt her skin starting to tingle in response. She knew that she wanted him. Her nipples were already rigid as her mind flashed on the memory of the pleasure he had given her the first time they were together.
"I want to make love to you, Karla," he whispered. "Right here! Right now!"
His words took her breath away. Her cunt was all warm. She could feel moisture oozing through its tunnels. She looked into his eyes without speaking. But her answer was clear.
"Lie back and let me love you," he murmured. As he spoke, his fingers undid her buttons expertly. In a moment he had removed her blouse and was unsnapping her black lace brassiere. A moment later, her pants had been slipped off over her legs. And her panties. She was naked. It felt wonderful.
Submitting her will to him totally, she yielded to the gentle pressure of his hands, lying back on his comfortable office couch. In silent yearning, she watched as he removed his jacket, tie, and shirt, holding her breath when he stepped out of his trousers. She was a little disappointed when he left his undershorts on, but the feeling left her when he dropped to his knees beside the couch to press his lips to her mouth.
As he kissed her, his hands meandered over her naked body, stroking and caressing her electrically tingling skin. His touch was feather-light. Its tantalizing flutter brought her nerve endings closer to the surface, heightening all sensation. Then, as she warmed to him, he began to massage her more firmly. She felt his palms and fingers traveling skillfully over the muscles of her arms and her legs. As he rubbed her, she relaxed even more. It felt so good. So comfortable. He kneaded the flesh of her thighs, his fingers working deep into their fiber. Each rotating movement brought him closer to her vertex, to the hair-covered slit of her vulva. But though he skirted its puckering prominence with his fingertips, he refrained from making direct contact. She could feel her vaginal lips puffing outward, blossoming like a flower in the hope of attracting a bee.
He rubbed her abdomen, pressing outward toward her hips with each expert stroke. Her breasts heaved and bobbed as his caresses approached them. Her nipples were so hard that they ached. Fluidly, he cupped the fleshy mounds, squeezing them gently in his muscular fingers. Karla gasped, overcome with pleasure. Her nipples, like a pair of flaming embers, burned into his palms as they swelled in hungering lust.
The blonde woman's eyes were shut tightly a stream of melodious moans issuing from her throat. When Sterling's fingertips closed over her rosy nubbins, she bit her lip. Lovingly, he tweaked and twisted them, adding fuel to the furnace of her desire. Then, he moved his hands away, running his fingers softly over the silky skin of her chest and shoulders.
Karla sighed in contentment as his hands moved attentively over the nudity of her body, exploring her with love. He traced the lines of her tits and the arcs of her ribs. He ran his fingertips in little circles around the crater of her navel. He nudged softly at the pits of her arms. He stroked the outer curves of her bosom.
The widow was in motion, now, her hips rising and falling rhythmically. Her heels dug into the couch, her fingers gripping its material. She wanted to shout her passion to the world, but miraculously, she kept it contained. Only a low animal hum of desire gurgled from her throat. Paul's lips found her nipples, and were trailing wetly from one to the other. She could feel him burrowing in the valley between her tits, his tongue tip caressing her sensitive skin. His hands grasped her hips while his head moved lower, his lips kissing their way across the plane of her belly. She could feel them pressing against the hair-covered mound of her pussy.
Her clit was rigid, its pink head poking out from its protective sheath. When his lips brushed tenderly across it, she grunted in emotion. The tip of his tongue curled out to caress the little button. Her hips began waving from side to side as he tongued and lapped her center of pleasure. Then, moving onward, his tongue plunged into the depths of her vagina.
She felt her consciousness lifting on a billowing cloud of sensuality. Her twat was open wide, sucking his tongue deep into its confines. His mouth worked at her pussy, drawing thick rolls of pink flesh between his teeth. He licked and he lapped at the convoluted membranes, his tongue-tip discovering caves within the caves. Karla couldn't remember ever having experienced so much pleasure or excitement. He was strong, and it felt good to abandon herself to him.
She could feel the heated length of his tongue plundering deep into her cunt. She could hear the expressions of delight which bubbled from his lips. As he lapped her cuntal orifice, his nose brushed lightly over her clitoris, doubling her thrill. Wrapping her legs around his head, she pulled his face more tightly against her. She turned off her mind and allowed herself to drift downstream into the world of sensuous bliss.
When her cunt was dripping with the heady combination of his saliva and her love juice, he moved his tongue lower. Delicately, he flipped its tip over the sensitive nut of her anus. With a moan, she bucked against the prying organ. Slowly, deliberately, he worked his lingual probe into the rubbery tightness of her rectal depths. She sobbed in excitement.
As he reamed her ass hole with his tongue, his fingers re-explored her drooling quim. Crossing his index and middle fingers, he skewered them inside while this thumb sought the hardness of her clit. Pressure was building in her loins. Each time his tongue pistoned deeper in her ass hole, she lifted her pubis up toward the heavens. Each time his thumb tweaked the quivering button of her clitty, she rocked back against his face. The knuckles of his scissoring fingers were warming her twat till it felt ready to boil. The combination was too much for her to stand.
"Oooooooohhh, Paul," she moaned. "I think I'm going to . . . " He pulled his tongue from her anus and swept it across the long puffy slash of her cunt. Then he whipped it in circles around her little love button, bringing the last word from her throat in a gasp. "Cuuuuummmmm."
She felt wave upon wave of orgasmic solution flooding the passages of her cunt. She heard his tongue slurping through it, lapping up the precious juice as though it were the elixir of life. Crashing crescendoes of sound blasted deafeningly in her ears. Swirling patterns of light blinded her with their brilliance. The world was shattering, bursting into pieces and flying off into infinity. She howled her joy to the universe, heedless of anyone who might hear.
Sterling worked with a frenzy to keep her energy flowing. Over and over, the broad blade of his tongue stroked her clit. Again and again his lips fastened to her labia, pressing hotly against her lust-moistened membranes. Taking her clit into his mouth, he sucked gently on it, rolling its spheroid head with the tip of his tongue. She couldn't be sure when her first climax had ended and the next one was beginning to rise. It was incredible. All reality had changed into a phantasmagoria of delight.
Her excitement was building anew. This time, however, she did not remain passive. Reaching for the bulge at the front of his shorts, she pressed her fingers to it. It was as thick and straight as a lodge pole. Instinctively, she clutched it, pulling up and down through the fabric of his briefs. At last, clumsily, she exposed it by tugging at his elastic waistband.
It was a magnificent penis, stiff and swollen with desire. Wrapping her fingers around its length, she pulled roughly at it. Thick droplets of goo worked slowly from the distended slit at its tip. Experimentally, she dipped her fingertip in one of them and carried it to her lips. As Sterling watched, she tasted its flavor. Then her hand returned to his staff.
Paul removed his shorts and stood up straight for her to see. Covering her hand with his own, he jerked the massive organ with her. His other began fingering her pussy once again. Slowly, she pulled back her legs opening the reddened slash in lustful invitation.
She watched in hypnotized silence as he knelt between her legs on the couch. His cock stood out before him, leading the way to her cunt. Breathlessly she waited as its head scuffed her inner thighs. Then, when its dewy cap was so close to her twat that she could almost feel its heat, she reached for him again. Paul placed his hands alongside her shoulders, allowing her to direct his cock into the warm and fragrant pit of her pussy. Slowly he lowered himself, dipping his pulsing glans in the warm honey pot of her sex. At last her cunt felt the stretching presence of his entry. She placed her hand on his naked chest.
He was muscular and strong, the masculine contours of his pectorals exciting her as her fingers explored his bare skin. His nipples were small and dark, each ringed by a thatch of auburn hair. Lovingly, she took them in her fingers. She felt the leathery tissues respond to her at once, his nipples hardening under her touch. Looking into his eyes, she whispered, "Yes, Paul, fuck me."
Her lover smiled serenely, burying another portion of his rod in her wet opening. "I'm just beginning to fuck you," he whispered in a voice that was thick with desire. With a sudden thrust of his hips, he humped all the way into her, sinking his prick to the hilt in her heated vaginal cavity. Rolling his ass, he ground against her. The head of his tool scoured her inner membranes as it rocked on the fulcrum of her mons.
Her buttocks lifted off the cushion to press her cunt tightly against him. Her tits squashed between them, the rigidity of her nipples raking hotly across his chest. Throwing her arms around him, she raked at his back with her fingernails. Her legs and his intertwined.
They moved in erotic unison, dancing a conjugal ballet on his office couch. As she rose up to meet his plundering drives, he fell like a stone against her. She could feel his pubic bone crash against the mound of her clit. She could feel the head of his penis drilling hard against the mouth of her cervix. It didn't seem possible, but another orgasm was building. Breathlessly, she awaited its arrival.
In a rhythm as old as the universe, their bodies came together. The copious flowing of her vaginal juices lubricated his movements, making his thick fish of a cock slide easily down the tubes of her womanhood. In and out it flew, the cloying tissues of her cunt clinging desperately on the out-stroke and rolling back submissively on the inward plunge. Her juices were foaming, coating her buttocks and inner thighs with a froth of passionate desire. She could even feel the moisture finding its way into the crack of her ass.
"Again," she wailed. "I think it's happening again."
Sterling's voice was a strangled growl in his throat as his cock swelled within her. Her cunt was contracting rhythmically, milking his masculine organ and sucking him inward. He moved so fast and so hard that his balls swung against her, striking her ass with an audible slap. She could feel the wrinkled bag of his scrotum nestling momentarily in the canyon between her cheeks, then clinging briefly as it swung back and away from her.
Raising her legs, she encircled his waist with them, her cunt turned up to meet his plundering thrust. The heated swamp of her loins threatened to swallow him completely. She was panting as their pelvises rocked together. His cock seemed to mushroom inside of her, swelling so large that it stretched the already-taut fibers of her pussy. Then it spat, pumping its lust liquid deep into the well of her womb. She could feel the whirling tide cascading against the back walls of her cunt. His ejaculate was warming her belly.
like a reservoir which had finally burst through its floodgates, her orgasm began. Rolling currents of hot syrup flowed freely through her, soaking his pistoning dick and matting their pubic mounds. The stiff curling hairs of their loins stuck together, as though connecting them to complete the union of their intercourse. She heard the rhythmic groaning of his pleasure as her climax reached a second towering peak. For a moment, all was dwarfed by the blinding light of glory. like a tigress in heat, she bellowed her needs to the jungle around her. Then she allowed the flood of satisfaction to carry her away.
CHAPTER SIX
Gretta felt John's hand closing gently over her breast as she kissed him. It made her feel warm and comfortable. Boldly, she thrust her tongue into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of his saliva. Then, coming up for air, she said, "I'm glad we came out here instead of staying inside."
As she spoke, she looked around at the stately old trees of the south orchard. They were heavy with nuts, their long twisting branches bowed under the ripening weight. The air was filled with the fragrance of growth. The breeze played a symphony through the foliage.
"I don't know," John responded uncertainly. "With your mother out for the afternoon, we could have had the house to ourselves. But out here . . . " He looked around in search of prying eyes.
"Don't be silly," Gretta chided. "Nobody can see us out here. And nobody can hear us. We can do the same things that we could have done inside." As she spoke, she looked at him seductively, the promise of youthful excitement glistening in her eyes.
"Well, just the same . . . " he began. She silenced him with a long and lingering kiss on the mouth. For a moment he was unresponsive, his tongue still poised in mid word. But the warmth of her lips against his made him forget his objections. Enthusiastically, he returned the tender pressure.
Gretta ran her hands over his broad shoulders, pulling her body tightly against his. Since the day of the fire, her mind had been reeling with thoughts of the things they had done together. She had been unable to think of anything else. In a way, it was a good thing that Mom was so preoccupied with the possibility of arson. Or she would surely have noticed the change in her.
Whenever the teenager thought of the sensations which his hand on her pussy had created, she felt weak and quivery. It had been un-like anything she ever experienced before. She wondered whether it was something that would happen every time, or whether it only happened once. She was determined to find out.
Brazenly, she ground her body against him, her pelvis rubbing across the muscular surface of his thigh. She hummed softly as they kissed, the sound communicating her desire. When his hands began to move slowly down her back, she wiggled her hips encouragingly.
His fingers wandered freely over the blades of her shoulders and on down to the small of her back. She could feel him tracing the curve of her spine with his palms. His hands dipped lower. Briefly, he encircled her waist with them. Then he cupped the split melon of her ass, holding and squeezing one of her buttocks in each of his hands.
Gretta sighed, working her hips in a tight little circle as his fingers stroked her through the taut material of her jeans. It felt wonderful to have him touching her this way. It was making her tremble all over. She began kissing his throat, nibbling gently at the sensitive skin as she worked her way closer to his ear. Then, wetting her lips, she kissed and licked his earlobe, thrilling to the moan of excitement which the caress brought from his lips.
"John," she murmured softly. "I want you to hold me like you did the other day."
He stepped back, looking anxiously around once again. She giggled, and he grinned sheepishly. Kissing her lightly on the lips, he looked deep into her eyes.
Without averting his glance, he began to undo the button at her collar.
When it was open, he bent to kiss the white triangle of skin which was revealed. Gretta squeezed her eyes shut and moaned at the tenderness of his approach. She was anxious for her top to be off. She was wearing one of her mother's bras: a sexy wisp of lace which barely held her growing tits in place. It was a little big for her, but still it made her breasts look fuller and more voluptuous. She knew it would excite John to look at her in it. And that thought excited her.
"Hurry," she implored. "I want you to see me."
Suddenly she heard a raucous laugh from somewhere behind her. "Yeah, hurry," a gruffly masculine voice said. "We want to see her too."
Spinning instinctively on her heel, Gretta turned to see two men standing just a few feet away. One of them was huge and light-skinned, with long dark hair and a full beard. The other looked like a Mexican-American. He was shorter, darker, and slighter of build. The look of cruelty in his eyes made her shiver.
"Who are you?" she demanded righteously. "And what are you doing on my mother's property?" She was beginning to think that her mom might have been right about the fire in the west orchard being deliberate. These men looked disreputable enough to be guilty of anything.
Without warning, the Mexican stepped forward and slapped her viciously across the face. "Shut up, cunt," he spat.
"Now wait a minute," John protested, jumping toward him. "You get your . . . " But before he could finish his sentence, the burly bearded one punched him solidly in the back of the head. The teenager's eyelids fluttered and his knees started to buckle. But he managed to keep his feet.
"What's going on here?" he asked weakly, turning to face the mountainous thug.
The stranger grinned humorlessly, showing a gap where two of his teeth should have been. He was dressed in black denim pants and a sleeveless tee shirt which was stained with grease and sweat. The muscles of his bulging arms were covered with tattoos. One of them consisted simply of the word KILL in crude blue letters.
"Let's fight, turkey," he said after spitting through his teeth. Dropping into a crouch, he advanced on John, his arms moving before him like a gorilla's.
Gretta screamed, throwing herself froward in an instinctive attempt to protect her sweetheart. But the Chicano grabbed her and put his hand over her mouth. "Don't make a sound," he said, tightening his arm around her throat. "Or Jose's gonna kill you. Now let's watch Butchie beat up your boyfriend."
The girl continued to struggle, but it was hopeless. The man was strong, and he held her in a grip of iron. Tears ran unchecked from her eyes as she watched in horror while the big man towered over John.
"Come on, turkey," he said again, feinting at the youngster's face and laughing when John nearly tripped trying to get out of the way. The next time he swung, he connected, his knuckles sinking in the flesh of John's nose with a sickening thud. The boy's head snapped back with a crack, a crimson rivulet issuing from one of his nostril.
Gretta sobbed and tried to twist out of the dark-skinned hoodlum's grasp. She howled in pain as his fingers dug deep into her arms. Roughly, he twisted them behind her, wrenching her shoulders agonizingly upward. "Ooooooowwwww," she cried, abandoning all resistance.
Realizing that he hadn't a chance against his powerful assailant, John tried to shield his face with his hands, backing cautiously away. But Butchie moved in on him, punching him heavily in the body with a series of short punishing jabs. Each pummeling blow brought a grunting expulsion of breath from the teenager.
He lowered his hands in a feeble attempt to block the punches, but the sadistic attacker changed trajectory, raining a series of hooks and crosses to his face. John gasped and staggered back, eyes crossing momentarily. Then he tottered and sank to the ground.
Gretta was weeping softly. Horrified, she watched the tee-shirted criminal swing his leg back to deliver a kick at John's chest. When he prepared to aim another at the semi-conscious boy's head, she shrieked, "Don't. Leave him alone. You'll kill him."
Butchie looked at her and laughed. "I might," he sneered. "I just might at that." Turning away from his helpless victim, he stepped up to wave his finger in her face. "Unless," he said leering. "Unless something else keeps me amused."
The one called Jose laughed obscenely in her ear. It was a cackling sound, originating at the granite core of his demonic spirit. It frightened Gretta. For some inexplicable reason, it frightened her even more than what she had already seen them do.
Letting go of her wrists, Jose placed his hand between her shoulder blades and shoved her forward, propelling her into his powerful partner's arms. Then, reaching into his pocket, he took out a knife. Its handle was pearly white and glistened in the sun. In its center was a shining silver button. With an elaborately graceful movement of his wrist, he touched the button. Immediately, the blade sprang open. It was razor sharp, its honed edge flashing in ugly threat.
Butchie turned Gretta around so that her back was against him. "I want you to see this," he said cruelly. Then, to his friend, he added, "Why don't you perform a little surgery, Jose?"
The Mexican's eyes flashed as he moved menacingly toward John's motionless form. The dazed boy's eyes widened in horror, and he stirred slightly. But lifting his head seemed to take all of his energy. With a weak sigh of frustration, he fell back again to the ground.
Jose dropped to his knees beside him, pressing the point of his switchblade into the teenager's chest. "I could cut out his heart," he said thoughtfully. Then, with a snicker, he moved the knife into the crotch of John's pants. Skillfully, he inserted its point into the fabric, slitting it open to reveal his shriveled penis. John squirmed, but the hoodlum placed a knee in his belly to pin him to the ground.
"Or," he muttered slowly, looking right into Gretta's eyes, "I could cut of f his cock." Placing the deadly blade against the pale and puny organ, he laughed again-the same eerie cackling sound. "Would you like that, Chickie?" he asked, using the weapon to lift the little prick for her to see. "Well, would you?" This time his voice was more menacing, and even colder.
"No," she answered in a voice that was barely a whisper. "Please don't."
"Then make my friend Butchie feel good," Jose spat. In a shout, he added, "Now."
Gretta began to shake. She realized that she and John were completely at the mercy of these crazy men. These animals. There was nothing to stop the knife-wielding Jose from butchering John. There was nothing to prevent Butchie from beating them both to death.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked softly, stifling her sobs.
Butchie released his grip on her, knowing that she wouldn't try anything with her boyfriend at Jose's mercy. Flashing a toothless grin, he said, "Strip! I want to see you finish what lover-boy started." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "And make it slow and sexy. I've got all afternoon."
Gretta wept openly, sobs of dismay wracking her trembling body. "Why are you doing this to us?" she whined. "What do you want?" She couldn't accept his command as a reality. This was all too nightmarish. It just couldn't be happening.
But the gorilla's face became hard, his lips drawing tightly together. "Make him bleed, Jose," he ordered, shifting his glance to his partner.
Almost at once, Gretta heard John scream in pain. Turning, she looked down at him. There was a long jagged streak of blood on his thigh where the Mexican's knife had cut through his pants leg. She could see the scarlet flow beginning already, wetting the dark material of his trousers. "No," she cried. "Don't hurt him again. I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want."
"All right, then," Butchie sneered. "Off with the blouse."
Her hands shaking in terror, Gretta reached for the button which John had never gotten to undo. Clumsily, she fumbled with it, trying to work it open. But her eyes were filled with tears, blurring her vision. Finally, impatient with fear, she pulled until it popped, widening the vee at her throat. Without waiting for another command, she tugged at the next one, working it open too.
She knew that her mother's sexy black bra was showing, and she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. The muscular tough was looking straight at her bosom and licking his lips. God only knew what he had in mind. Trying not to look back at him, she opened the rest of the blouse-buttons.
The sweater fell open, revealing the graceful contours of her adolescent breasts. The bra barely covered their nipples, leaving most of the creamy white globes visible. She wanted to cover herself with her hands, but she didn't. The speed with which Jose had carried out Butchie's order to hurt John drove her onward. These were men to be feared. To be obeyed. Instantly and to the letter.
Shrugging out of the top, she let it fall to the ground. In a quandary, she hesitated. What should she take off next? If she removed the bra, her titties would be totally uncovered, despoiled by the slimy stares of the two thugs. But if she took off her jeans, there would be nothing but her panties to cover her sex. And since they too were skimpy, matching the sexy bra as a set, most of her pussy would be exposed.
Butchie was obviously growing impatient, his lips drawing back to reveal the gaps in his teeth. "Jose," he said again. But Gretta didn't give him a chance to finish the command.
Reaching behind her swiftly, she undid the snap of her bra and let it drop. Now her titties were totally unprotected. Their skin crawled as she felt his eyes roving lustfully over them. She wanted to turn and hide, but remembered Jose's knife.
"Nice boobs," Butchie exclaimed, taking a long step toward her. "Give 'em a little shake." As he spoke, he reached out, pinching one nipple between his thumb and his forefinger.
Gretta winced in pain. As the little nubbin grew hard, she tried to move her shoulders from side to side as she had seen dancers do on television. Her firm adolescent tits swung slowly, the nipples inscribing a pair of delicate arcs in the air. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto them. But the hoodlum who stood menacingly before her was unmoved.
"Drop your drawers," he commanded tersely. "I want to see the rest before I decide what to do with you."
"Please," Gretta wailed. "Why don't you leave us alone? Haven't you degraded us enough?" Her chest was heaving with emotion, her adolescent boobies rising and falling erotically.
All Butchie did was glance in Jose's direction, but it was enough to make the frightened girl obey him, abandoning all protest. Trying not to think about what she was doing, she unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them down over her hips. Then she kicked them off, standing practically naked before him.
The underpants which she wore were so brief that they failed to cover all of the light brown hair which ringed her pussy. She could feel his gaze burning into her, singeing her cunt with its heat. Mechanically, she put her fingers under the elastic waistband prepared to draw it downward.
But Butchie stopped her. "Leave 'em on for now," he said, perversely. "But pull 'em over so I can see your cunt."
His words stung her like a slap in the face. She wasn't sure of what she wanted, but she knew that she had better do her best to comply with his demand. Jose was probably itching for a chance to hurt John again. Cupping her hand over her panty-covered pubic mound, she hooked her index and middle finger into one of the lacy leg-bands. Then, pulling on the diaphanous material, she stretched it to one side. Then thin band of cloth bunched together, bruising the sensitive membranes of her twat as it tightened across it. She could feel the heated summer air washing across her naked little cunny. She was mortified.
"Stick your fingers in it," he commanded. "And tell me how it feels."
Gretta's blood ran cold. There was nothing for her to do but obey. While he watched with bloodshot eyes, she inserted her middle finger into her pussy. The tissues were dry, making the entry painful, but she didn't stop until the digit was buried to the second knuckle.
"Well," Butchie asked. "Is it wet?"
"No," the ashamed teenager answered, looking down at the ground.
"We'll just have to see what we can do about that," the hoodlum replied. Then, his manner becoming business-like and impatient, he said, "All right, get 'em off."
Almost grateful for the chance to take her hand away from her vagina, Gretta obeyed, slipping out of the panties and letting them drop to the ground. Her cuntlips were pressed tightly together, as if instinctively closing out the rest of the world. She felt helpless and vulnerable, standing naked in the orchard before this cruel and perverted sadist.
"Show my pal," Butchie ordered. "And let lover boy get a look, too." When Gretta, not understanding what he wanted, failed to respond, he barked, "Turn around."
Slowly, the girl did as he commanded, realizing that she would now have to face John for the first time since the hoods had begun tormenting her. She tired to avoid his eyes, but she felt them staring helplessly at her. She was baring her most private parts to these strangers, while poor John was forced to witness the whole thing, with a knife at his groin. He, too, was at the mercy of a sadistic criminal.
The switchblade-wielding vandal's eyes flashed as he appraised her developing young body. "You got a nice little girlfriend there," he said mockingly to the boy who lay on the ground. "I'll bet she's one hell of a beautiful fuck!"
"You bastard," muttered John, tears of helplessness glistening in the corners of his eyes. He tried to struggle to a sitting position, but Jose pushed him down without effort. He lay the point of his knife at the teenager's throat.
"I could kill you before you say another word," he hissed cruelly. Then he twisted his face into an evil smile. "But this time I'll let you off easy." Returning his knife-edge to the flesh of John's prick, he looked up at Gretta. "Come here, cunt," he said. "I want to feel your pussy."
John tried to sit up again, but went limp when he felt the point of Jose's knife piercing lightly into his cock-skin. Gretta began to cry. like a puppet, she shuffled over to where the bandido knelt.
When she was within reach, he cupped his free hand and placed it on her pubic mound. Gretta drew back involuntarily, but remained within his reach. Stiffening his index finger, he thrust it quickly inside. Then, removing it, he held it to his nose and sniffed. "Almost ripe," he said, cackling.
Gretta looked down at her boyfriend, trying to ease his suffering with the expression of her eyes. I hate them, she tried to tell him. So the things that they do to me don't matter. But her message was somehow not communicated.
"She's still a little dry," the knife-artist said, looking John in the eye. You're her boyfriend. You rub it a little bit. Get her warmed up for us."
The blonde youth was about to refuse when he felt the knife bite into his penis. Quickly and without a word, he reached up to pet his girlfriend's pussy. It was the most humiliating experience of Gretta's life. They were making sport of her while John watched, a helpless prisoner. And now they were forcing him to participate in the lustful activity.
His hand passed over her pussy, trembling with emotion. But as he stroked her, his cock began to stir. She could see it rising to partial erection, its distended shaft pressing back against the razor sharp blade. Her clit became rigid at the sight.
"See, Butchie," Jose said. "She-likes it. They both like it. Why don't we make her suck him off?"
Gretta's heart skipped a beat. She vividly remembered the picture she had seen in John's book of a woman sucking a man's cock. She had never been quite able to get it out of her mind. It was gross; disgusting. And now they were going to make her do it to John while they watched. How awful!
But then Butchie spoke, she realized that there was no end to their degradation of her. "Why him?" the burly tough guy exclaimed. "Let's make her suck me off. I can use a good blowjob. The strip show got me all turned on." As he spoke, he pulled down the tab of his zipper, extracting his long and sinewy cock. like the rest of his body, it was thick and oversized. Its shaft was long and swollen, capped by a huge bulbous head.
"Tell her to suck Butchie's prick," Jose ordered John, drawing the knifepoint lightly over his stiffening pole. The prisoner gritted his teeth. He was prepared to endure the most horrible of pain before we would comply with this ugly demand. But the Mexican only grinned cruelly.
"If you don't tell her to do it, I'm going to cut her up as soon as I finish with you," he said casually. "First I'll cut off her titties to make a couple of stash pouches. Then I'll give her another hole between her cunt and her ass. Then. . . "
John groaned in helpless frustration. "Gretta," he said softly. His voice was a hoarse croak which almost didn't get past the dryness of his lips. "Do what he said." Then, in response to the angry jab of Jose's knife in his loins, he added hopelessly, "Suck his prick."
The naked teenager sobbed at his words, knowing that there was no other way. like a mindless automaton, she turned to face Butchie once again and dropped to her knees. The burly hoodlum had opened his pants completely, letting them bunch up around his ankles. His cock stood straight out before him, throbbing as her lips moved closer to it.
Gretta tried to close her eyes and blot out the horrible sight, but its details remained emblazoned in her memory. She could smell the acrid fragrance of his unwashed genital organs. He humped his loins at her to bring the tip of his rod to a hair's breath from her mouth. In a moment she would be tasting him; feeling the slimy surface of his prick over the blade of her tongue and into her throat. She wanted to die.
Grimly, she thought of what they would do to John if she didn't comply. Slowly, she opened her mouth. Her jaw muscles felt all tight and tense, permitting her to part her lips only half-way. Butchie moved forward, touching their softness with the brutal head of his dick.
"This is a big one," he said. "Not like that peanut on your boyfriend. You'll have to open wider to get this chunk of meat in your throat,"
Gretta forced herself to obey, opening her mouth as far as it would go and letting the fat weapon slip between her lips. It was huge-even bigger than she had realized. She felt its bulk pressing against her lips, drawing them tightly around it. Her mouth gaped as far as her aching jawbone would permit.
The penis tasted salty, its surface remarkably smooth against her tongue. Experimentally, she licked at it, trying to lubricate its painful entry into her oral cavern. Butchie winced at the lingual contact, drawing his breath through clenched teeth. "That's it, baby," he murmured, looking directly at John where he lay on the ground. "Lick it with your tongue."
Involuntarily, the tormented youth groaned. His discomfort amused the muscular Butchie, bringing a perverted laugh from his throat. "Hey, turkey," he said to the boy. "Did she ever do this for you?"
John turned away, but Jose regained his attention with the point of his blade. "You better answer him, punk," he said menacingly.
"No," John answered, defeated.
"Maybe you just didn't ask nice enough," the thug said. "You gotta sweet-talk a young cunt like this." Laughing raucously, he said, "Here, I'll show you what I mean." Reaching down, he tangled his fingers in Gretta's loose flowing hair, twisting as he pulled. Only the thickness of his prick pressing against her tongue kept her from crying out. "Suck it deep, bitch," he said coldly. "Or I'll put my foot up your ass."
Jose laughed as the girl struggled desperately to please his partner. Her head bobbed spasmodically up and down as she took more and more of Butchie's swollen sex staff in her mouth. She could feel the curling hairs of his pubis tickling her nose; could smell the tangy residue of the last cunt he had been in. When the bulbous knob bumped against her palate, she thought she would gag. But she fought the vomit reflex, anxious to be done with him. If this went on much longer, she knew she would die of shame.
Butchie bit his lips as her unskilled manipulations began to take their toll on him. She could feel his organ swelling in her mouth, filling her throat with the noxious pressure of his excitement. She knew instinctively that he was getting ready to shoot his load. The full horror of it didn't dawn on her for a moment. Then she realized that she would be forced to swallow his sperm. Ugh!
Recoiling at the thought, Gretta started to pull back her lips. But Butchie gripped her tightly by the hair, forcing his weapon even deeper. She felt it striking against her tonsils, threatening to choke her with its girth. Then the torrent began.
The first whirling droplets shot from his prick with the pressure of a fire hose, spattering hotly against the back of her throat. She sucked desperately on his hotly throbbing cock. Tightening her throat muscles, she tried to store the hot flowing liquid in her mouth, to keep it from sliding down her gullet. But it kept coming and coming. She feared that it would drown her, that she would smother in a river of semen.
Convulsively, Gretta began to swallow, trying to breathe. Her cheeks puffed with effort as she forced the disgusting semen down her throat. But it was coming faster than she could gulp it down. She felt a trickling flow of scum escaping from the corner of her mouth, where she knew John would see it.
She slaved harder, her throat working to swallow every drop. Again and again his cock swelled and spat, pumping an ocean of gism into her belly. She thought it would never end. But at last the penis began to soften, the flow of joy juice slackening. After what seemed like an eternity, it stopped pumping. Butchie loosened his grip, allowing his cock to slip from between her lips.
Taking it in his fingers, he gave it a shake in John's direction. Then he looked down to smile obscenely at Gretta. "That wasn't bad for a beginner," he said critically.
"We'll have to try it again some time." Glancing in the direction of his friend, he said, "Why don't you give it a go, Jose. Her mouth is nice and warm. She'll make you feel good."
The Mexican rose to his feet, still holding the knife over John. "No, I don't think so," he said casually. "Not today, anyway. But I'll get her good the next time we meet." The ominous sound of his words made Gretta shudder. Leering at her obscenely, he said, "Make sure you tell that to your mother. Tell her that Butchie and Jose are coming back for more. And ask her if she still thinks that this is the right place to raise her family."
Butchie grinned. "I hope she stays," he said. "I just can't wait for more of your sweet head."
Jose brandished his knife while his burly partner pulled up his pants. "We're going to be leaving now. But if you call for help or try to run we'll come back and cut your bellies open. So count to one hundred real slow before you even move."
Turning on his heel, he led Butchie into the trees. Gretta watched until they were out of sight. Then she heard the sound of motorcycles being started, and they were gone. Turning to John, she began crying hysterically.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Karla was furious. The sheriff was being gentle and solicitous, but it was obvious that he didn't believe her. He thought her a paranoid widow who had been sleeping alone so long that she had lost all sense of reason. He practically said so.
"I know how tough it must be, Mrs. Thompson," he was saying, "to handle something like this without a man in the house. If there's anything we can do to help, please let us know."
His well-meant words angered her still more. 'There is something you can do," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Get the animals who did it and put them in a cage where they belong. And stop whoever it is that's doing this to us."
"Now, Mrs. Thompson," the tall blue-eyed policeman drawled with elaborate patience. "We went through all of that last evening when I came to talk to Gretta. We'll do our best to catch them all right. But when we do, I'm sure we'll find that they were a couple of drunken migrant fieldworkers out for some excitement. The tomato harvest has been slow this year, and a lot of them aren't working. Damn wetbacks! They give us more trouble."
Karla stamped her foot in frustration. "No," she insisted. "There's somebody out to get us. I know it! First the fire in the west orchard. And now this! You've got to do something."
"We are doing something," the cop said, in a voice usually reserved for stubborn children. "We got a pretty good description from the Willows boy, and we're checking all the labor camps in the area. Those two won't go far. They'll drink another bottle of wine and forget it ever happened. We'll get 'em. You'll see."
Karla started to speak and then swallowed her words. What was the use? Even if she told him of her suspicions about Stone, he wouldn't believe her. And that wouldn't be fair to Paul. She had tried calling him yesterday, as soon as Gretta blurted our the horrible story between hysterical sobs. But his secretary said that he had been called out of town unexpectedly and wouldn't be back for a day or two.
"Now why don't you just try to relax," the sheriff said. "The nightmare is over." He rose from his seat on her couch and headed for the door. "By the way," he began, stopping to face her again. "Your daughter is still around, isn't she? When we catch those dudes, she'll have to make an identification."
"She's upstairs sleeping right now," Karla answered. "The doctor gave her enough sedative to keep her asleep for days. She's had a terrible experience." As she spoke, a sob built up in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. The sheriff was right. It was hard to handle problems like these without a man in the house. "But when you need her," she went on, her voice cracking but determined, "she'll be ready. We want those animals behind bars where they belong."
"We'll get 'em, ma'am," he said again, stepping out the door. "Don't you worry about that."
She stood in the doorway watching as he got into his police car and headed up the drive. Feeling totally drained, she started to go inside. But then, when the car was halfway to the main road, it stopped and backed quickly up to the house again.
Rolling down his window, the officer hollered, "Hey, Mrs. Thompson." Karla opened the door wide once more. "You'd better shut off them irrigation sprinklers."
He was waving his arm toward the north. "Or your whole crop'll be ruined." Before she had a chance to respond, he gunned the engine and headed for the main road.
"Wait," she called after him. "Wait, please." But the sound of his tires spinning up the gravel drive drowned her voice. In a moment, he was gone.
Karla felt a cold chill run up her spine. The irrigation sprinklers were on in the north orchard. If she lost those almonds, on top of what was destroyed in the fire, she wouldn't even be able to pay her taxes next winter. Letting the door slam behind her, she ran across the field, heading for the pump shed. She had to turn off that irrigation pump.
Powerful jets from a hundred whirling sprinkler heads sprayed her as she ran between the trees. Her loose-fitting housedress was plastered wetly to her body. Her water-logged moccasins slapped against the heels of her feet. All around her, branches were bending under the weight of dripping and water-soaked nuts. The ground was littered with them. As she drew nearer to the pump house, she realized that it was too late. The nuts would be rotten before the week was out.
In despair, she shuffled to a stop, approaching the irrigation shed with her head down. Whe she looked up, she noticed two motorcycles standing beside the small wooden building. She stopped in her tracks, frightened by the sudden knowledge that the saboteurs must be somewhere around. Her first impulse was to turn and run. But she steeled herself. If she could just get a look at them. Maybe then she could get the sheriff to believe her.
Moving slowly, and as quietly as possible, she circled the whitewashed building. Maybe they were inside and she could see them if she peeked through a crack. Tiptoeing stealthily, she moved closer to the weathered boards. Pressing her face against them, she peered through a chink. It was dark in there, but she thought she could make out the silhouetted outline of two figures moving in the shadow. Holding her breath, she strained for a better look.
What she saw took her breath away, leaving her frozen to the spot. There were a man and woman embracing. The man was fully clothed, but the woman was totally naked. They were kissing, and it looked like he was fondling her naked breasts. Just who the hell did they think they were?
She was about to rush angrily inside, demanding that they leave at once, when she heard a sound behind her. Turning quickly, she saw a short, thin, dark-skinned man. "What are you doing on my property?" she asked.
The man said nothing, his dark eyes glinting cruelly. With the slightest trace of a smile, he drew a switchblade knife from his pocket. "Hello, pussy," he said. As he spoke, he flipped open his blade and waved it at her. Then, stepping forward, he pressed the tip against her breast. "Let's go inside."
Karla was terrified; speechless with fear. In response to the prodding of his knife, she moved toward the pump house door. Still holding the frightening weapon against her, he pushed it open. Then he shoved her roughly inside.
The writhing couple stopped kissing to look up at them. "What the fuck . . . " the man complained.
The one called Butchie grinned, a wide gap showing between his scattered teeth. Still holding the nude woman in his arms, he flexed his muscles, making the network of tattoos which decorated them dance obscenely. "Let her," he said. "I'm not gonna stop now."
Out of the haze in Karla's mind, a dim specter of recognition began to arise. The name Butchie. And the tattoos. The one with the switchblade must be Jose. These were the same two men who had attached and abused Gretta.
She felt her knees shaking. She knew what these criminals were capable of. She knew what they had done to her daughter. She thought of trying to run, knowing full well that the dark one's switchblade knife would be in her before she had gone two steps. Perhaps it would be better to die.
Trembling, she stared at Butchie and the girl. They kissed again. Karla could see the woman rubbing her naked tits against the grease-stained front of his tee shirt. His fingers were digging into the soft olive-skinned flesh of her ass. She wanted to turn away, but found that she could not.
Without warning, Jose threw her roughly to the packed dirt floor. Placing the heel of his boot against her throat to keep her from moving, he used his knife to cut a length of rope from a coil which was hanging on a nail. Kneeling, he quickly tied her wrists behind her back. Then, looping an end of the rope around her ankles, he fastened them securely. Within moments, Karla was hog-tied. Although the ropes bit harshly into her wrists and ankles, she could stand the discomfort as long as she didn't try to move. But each time she attempted to shift her position or straighten her legs, the bonds drew tighter, bringing tears of pain to her eyes.
She lay helpless on the floor, a thousand terrors alive in her heart. What would they do to her? Would they rape her? Kill her? She wanted to scream. But there was no one to hear her.
Jose knelt beside her for a moment, idly running the point of his knife over the contour of her breasts. She wore no bra beneath her housedress and could feel the cruel implement pressing against her. In spite of the pressure of the ropes, she tried to squirm away. The hoodlum laughed.
"There's nothing you can do," he said, "but lie there and enjoy the show. Butchie and my sister Maria really know how to get in on."
With the eyes of a caged animal, Karla stared out of her body. Before her, the burly man was running his hands up and down over the dark woman's naked form. He squeezed roughly at her tits and plucked at her burgeoning nipples. The girl was sobbing and moaning as though nothing had ever felt better in her life. Karla was disgusted.
"Play with my pussy," Maria begged as the man's hands traveled over her breasts and her belly. His fingers wandered to the dark shadowy triangle of pubic hair, tangling in the stiff and shiny black curls. One thick digit began working its way into her cleft, bringing strangled cries of pleasure from her lips.
Karla just stared in silence. Maria was rather good-looking, actually, although the bound woman would have hated to admit it. She was tall and shapely, with golden skin and shimmering black hair. Her eyes were deep and almond shaped, so dark that they appeared to be windows into her very soul. Her boobs were big and round, capped in nipples of dark, leathery brown. Her ass was full and perfectly contoured.
The man was sucking one of her nipples, making loud slurping noises as he rolled his tongue over its sensitive surface. As he licked and lapped, his head moved lower. Karla could see a wet trail of his saliva tracing the path of his lingual journey. Down into Maria's cleavage it went. From there it zigzagged across the curving slope of her belly. Maria was moaning rhythmically.
Butchie dropped to his knees at the dark woman's feet, his lips pressed hungrily to her vulva. Karla shuddered at the sight. She felt her own body responding instinctively, her nipples hardening inside her dress. There was a moist warmth creeping through her groin, beginning at her pussy and spreading rapidly throughout her torso. Her eyes opened wide as the thug began tonguing the naked woman's cunt.
Then, to her horror, the one called Jose moved into the picture. He had slipped out of all his clothes and was standing there with a hard-on as long as a telephone pole. It was thick and brutally gnarled, curving upward like a scimitar to point obscenely at the heavens. His eyes wore a glaze of lust as he stared at his sister and Butchie. His hand was sliding slowly up and down the length of his rod.
Stepping forward, he eased into position behind Maria. As his heavy set companion licked her pussy, Jose reached around her, filling the palms of his hands with the firmness of her titties. Karla gasped in shocked disbelief.
He had referred to her as his sister. Yet here he was fondling her breasts and rubbing his naked penis against her ass. Was it possible? Could anyone really be that depraved?
"Ooooohh, Jose," the dark woman murmured as he started playing with her nipples. "That feels sooo gooooood." Butchie looked up at her words, flashing his toothless grin at the sight of his friend's hands on her titties. Jose gripped them harder, tweaking the nipples and twirling them like the knobs on a radio.
Karla could see Maria hunching back against him, pressing her buttocks against his naked and hirsute manhood. Butchie's lips were back at the well, sucking at the thick membranes of her snatch amd making the naked girl sigh in passionate excitement. "Oooooh, Butchie," she moaned. "Take off your pants. I want to play with your prick."
Her vulgar words jolted the hog-tied prisoner, reminding her of the peril of her situation. As long as the two thugs entertained themselves with the willing little slut, they would leave her alone. But when they finished with Maria, she would be next. She resolved to do nothing to attract attention to herself. Silently, she watched the lewd troilistic coupling.
Butchie's head was bobbing up and down as he fucked the attractive girl with his tongue. Her body was undulating rhythmically, pressing her loins against the kneeling man's face and then swinging back to rub her ass against her nude brother's cock. Suddenly, the tattooed tough-guy stood up, taking his mouth from her sweet-smelling slash. Quickly, he began to undress.
Karla glanced fascinated at Maria's exposed pussy. It was all puffy and pink, coated with a glistening sheen of saliva and love juice. The black hair which surrounded it was spotted with pearly droplets of fluid, looking frosted and inviting. Her clit, which was erect and swollen, stood out prominently above the long drooling slit of her cunt. Something about the sight of it made Karla's own clitoris expand, causing her panties to cut painfully into the slot of her vaginal orifice.
Then her attention was recaptured by
Butchie, who had shed all his clothes and was standing stark naked in front of Maria. His cock was long and thickly bulbous, a drop of lubricating juice sparkling at its tip. It was a massive weapon, enough to frighten the most experienced of women. The young widow thought of what her daughter had been made to do and shivered in dismay.
In silent hatred, she stared at his phallus. Beneath it hung his balls. They were huge and heavy, bloating the wrinkled sac which contained them. As he moved, they swayed slowly from side to side like a weighted pendulum. He stood for a moment, watching Jose's hands move over Maria's breasts and belly. The woman was humming with excitement. At last, when he stepped up to rub his swollen prick against her, the woman gasped softly. Reaching from him, she wrapped her fingers around the length of his cock. Slowly, with an erotically hungry movement, she pulled it up and down.
Karla was astounded to see Butchie's massive penis grow even bigger under Maria's fondling touch. It twitched and bucked as it mushroomed, communicating its need to the hand which cradled it. Its head was as big and as round as a billiard ball. As Maria stroked it, it darkened to a deep shade of purple. The naked woman's breathing could be heard even over the sound of the still-running irrigation pump. She seemed to have been transported to a new plane of sensation by the two men who were sexing her. Karla couldn't help wondering how it felt to have two pricks at a time.
Maria was tugging on Butchie's lengthening tool, pulling him against her to guide its tip toward her cleft. The big man bent his knees, lowering himself into position. From where she lay on the floor, Karla could see his cock moving up between the dark woman's thighs toward the center of her vaginal target.
Jose pushed his sister gently forward, tilting her dampened snatch to a more receptive angle. But Butchie's prick was still just out of reach. Karla saw Jose's hand reach between the woman's buttocks to caress her cunt from behind. She thought she even saw his fingers dipping into it.
Then, carefully, Jose lifted his sister off the floor, using his hand like a sling under her crotch. He swung her forward, bringing her within range of his husky partner's cock. Butchie looked down at the black-fringed cunt and grinned, his gums flashing. With his hand, he aimed his cockhead for the opening, rocking his hips back and forth like a mindless stud animal.
Maria gasped when the swollen organ struck her clitoral mound, kicking out instinctively with her legs. Karla sympathized with her, imagining the pain of such a contact. Pushing downward on the base of his rod, Butchie adjusted his aim. This time, when Jose swung his sister toward him, he scored a bull's eye. Karla's eyes widened as the plundering tool drove past the puckered barrier of Maria's twat.
The naked girl sobbed with pleasure as the thick penis penetrated her pussy. "Oh, Butchie, that's good," she howled. She wrapped her arms around the big man's neck, clinging tightly to his body. Her legs encircled his waist, her ankles locking in the small if his back.
Karla could see the swollen purple organ sliding all the way in to her rosy pussy. Creamy white foam oozed from Maria's cuntal opening to coat it with moisture, easing the friction of his entry. As he drove inward, Maria rotated her hips, screwing herself all the way onto the towering fuck pole. At last he was in to the hilt, the curls of his pubic hair tangling with her own thick pelvic fur.
Immediately, he began to slide outward again. Thick rivulets of her frothy fluid followed the retreating member. Karla watched fascinated as it slipped outwards, knowing that any moment its bulbous head would pop from the comfortably cuntal confines. His penis seemed endless, more and more of its length being revealed as he withdrew from her opening.
Then just when the bloated head was about to pop from between the puffy pink labia, he reversed direction. This time, the entire length of his prick was immersed in her with a single swift stroke. She grunted bestially, a sound of mingled pleasure and pain.
Karla found herself reacting to the lascivious sight in spite of her revulsion. Her nipples were as hard as stones, tenting the material of her dress over their pebbled contour. Her cunt was juicing wildly, soaking the material of her panties where they pulled tight between its lips. She wriggled her pelvis in an attempt to ease the tension, but that only drove the bunched fabric of its crotch band deeper into her slit. She could not tear her eyes from the lewd scene before her.
Jose had been rubbing his penis while he watched Butchie fuck his sister. But there was a desperate look in his eye. His cock was long and hard, throbbing with desire. Karla feared that he might try to use it on her. Mentally, she drew herself into a ball, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.
But the Chicano was not interested in her. He had eyes only for his sexy sister.
His gaze was riveted to her ass. Each time it lifted, the lips of her pussy scaling Butchie's tower, the Mexcian's prick jumped. His tongue licked his lips absently as he took a step closer. Then he acted.
As she rode the heavy man's huge staff of life, Jose placed his hands on her hips. Then, when she reached the top of her undulating cycle, he held her there. Stepping forward, he swung his prick beneath her, poising her anus over the tip of his dong. With a wrenching twist of his pelvis, he nudged at the puckered nut with his tapering penis.
Karla could see the fluid which oozed from its tip coating the lips of his sister's rectal mouth. She knew what he was getting to do, and the thought of it horrified her. To begin with, Maria was Jose's sister. But as if incest wasn't bad enough, he was getting ready to take her rectally, while another man fucked her in the cunt. How awful! Yet while her intellect recoiled at the shameful display of lust, Karla's body involuntarily warmed to the sight of it. She was no longer aware of the ropes which bit painfully into her wrists and ankles as her body writhed on the floor.
Jose had worked his cock deep into Maria's ass hole, and was groaning like a wounded animal. His sister's eyes were tightly shut, her teeth buried deep in
Butchie's shoulder. The big man's buttocks worked rhythmically back and forth as he drove his weapon up into Maria's twat.
Karla's mind whirled at watching the naked girl being buffeted erotically between two plundering penises. The one in her ass hole was in all the way to the base now. As the girl dropped her weight on it, it plunged deep into her bowel. Jose's nuts were swinging wildly as he fucked into his sister's ass.
The bound woman wanted to close her eyes; to turn her face to the wall. But she was hypnotized by what she saw. Her gaze was cemented to the sight of Maria's loins. The double impalement held her in total fascination.
Butchie's grunts were becoming louder and more rhythmic. The muscles in his thighs and buttock stood out like heavy braided ropes as he lifted Maria's weight with the strength of his prick alone. She was rising and falling against him, burying both pricks in her at the same time. Lewdly, they rubbed together through the thin membrane which separated her orifices. When Butchie's balls were ready to explode, he howled like a wolf at the kill. Then his churning testicles sent a hot load of gism through his tubes.
Karla could see his muscles tensing as he shot his load into the pretty Chicano woman. Maria's face was twisted in ecstasy, and Karla knew that she, too, was experiencing an orgasm. Then Jose lent his voice to the chorus, a string of unintelligible syllables bubbling from his lips. The three revelers rode the breezes of glory together, their vibes of shimmering ecstasy filling the air. For a moment Karla almost thought that she too would climax, spilling the sauce of her womanhood over the fabric of her panties.
She listened, entranced, as the lewdly coupling threesome sang their excitement to the universe. The men appeared lost in a shimmering world of orgasm, gone ten million light years beyond the earth's atmosphere. Maria's eyes were open, glazed with growing desire. She seemed to be staring directly at Karla. The helpless woman tried to avoid meeting the torrid glance, but she could not. Some magnetism held them bound together as Maria and the men coasted through their pleasure.
At last Karla shivered and turned her head away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the time the obscenely troilistic embrace was broken, all of Karla Thompson's terror had returned. Perhaps she was safe for the moment with the hoodlums' sexual appetites obviously sated. But she knew that it wouldn't be long before their lusts were revived, and she feared that she would be their next victim. The thought of being sandwiched between those two sex fiends horrified her. She strained at her ropes, but they tightened instantly, making her whimper in pain. Maria, still naked, looked at her, sympathy flashing in her eyes.
Jose and Butchie hurried into their clothes. When they were dressed, Jose turned to his sister, tossing her dress at her from the corner where it lay. Without bothering with underwear, she slipped into it. The soft white material hugged her body, accentuating every curve. She smoothed its skirt over her hips.
"You stay here with the cunt," Jose said. "Butchie and I have one more little job to do." Signaling to his partner, he started to leave. But Maria stopped him.
"Wait," she said. "You don't have to leave her like that. The poor thing can hardly move."
Her brother snickered. "You never get enough, do you Maria?" he said, laughing obscenely. His sister only smiled.
"Come on, let's get going," Butchie growled impatiently. "Fuck the bitch. Let her suffer."
"No," Jose said with a knowing grin. "I tied her very tight. I can't untie her completely, though. I want to be sure she's here when I get back." Snapping his fingers, he got an evil gleam in his eye. "Quick," he said to Butchie. "Get the chains from the motorcycles."
Butchie stepped out and returned a few seconds later with a length of heavy chain and two locks. Jose, taking it from him, looped one end of the chain around a pump shaft and fastened it in place with a padlock. Then, wrapping the other end around one of Karla's ankles, he did the same to it.
"There," he said, tossing the keys to his sister. "That should be enough to hold her."
Taking his knife from his pocket, he switched open the blade and held it up where Karla could see it. She trembled, terrified of what he might be preparing to do. But then, bending over her, he cut the ropes which bound her.
Karla sat up on the ground, rubbing her wrists and her ankles. She squatted on her haunches, looking up at him like an animal tethered in a cage. Then she turned away, tears flowing from her eyes. Without another word, the two thugs sauntered from the pump shed. Outside, she heard them starting their motorcycles. In a moment, the sound of their engines faded into the distance.
Karla stood up and paced to the end of her chain. It was only a few feet long, and she couldn't take more than two or three steps before it pulled her cruelly back. But at least she could move her arms and stretch her legs a little. She felt the circulation returning to her hands and feet.
She knew that Maria was looking at her, but she couldn't bear to meet the woman's glance. After what she had just seen, she found it difficult to think of Maria as a human being. Then she reconsidered. After all, it had been the girl who asked Jose to cut the ropes. Looking cautiously up at her, Karla said, "Thank you for making him untie me."
Maria laughed. "Nobody makes Jose do nothing," she said. Taking a step closer to Karla, she put her hand on the tethered woman's shoulder. "I saw you looking at me before," she said. "Did you like to watch what I was doing with the boys?"
Karla turned away again, astonished that the Chicano woman should refer so casually to the perversion. Biting her lip, she held her tongue.
"Yes," Maria said slyly, "You liked it, all right. I could tell by your face. Have you ever tried anything like that?"
Karl's eyes narrowed in anger. "Don't be repulsive," she sputtered. "I think it was disgusting. The three of you were behaving like . . . like . . . like animals!"
Maria laughed. "Isn't that what we all are?" she asked contemptuously. Karla didn't answer. "Well, isn't it?" She stepped up to confront Karla face to face. "Haven't you got the same things I got?" she demanded, reaching out to fill her hands with the softness of Karla's breasts.
The prisoner's nipples hardened at the contact, and she tried to step out of reach to hide the fact. But the response was not lost on Maria who was quick to pick up on all manifestations of the erotic. "You see," she said laughing. "You are an animal too."
Karla buried her face in her hands and started to cry. She was no longer tied, but she was still a helpless prisoner. The men had apparently gone to do more damage to the ranch. They would soon be back, however, and when they did, there would be nothing to protect her from their lust. "Leave me alone," she sobbed. "Why don't you all just leave me alone."
As if sensing the reason for her terror, Maria capitalized on it. "Leave you alone?" she mocked. "When my brother and Butchie come back, that's the last thing they're gonna do. They like women like you. The more you cry and scream, the more it turns them on. And you oughta see the things Jose can do with that knife of his. He is an artist. A true artist."
Her words inflamed Karla's anxiety, reducing her to a quivering bundle of hysteria. "No," she screamed. "You can't let them. You've got to help me get out of here."
Maria only laughed. "Do you know what Butchie would do to me if I helped you escape?" she said. "And Jose would probably help him."
"But they'll kill me," Karla wailed. "They'll tear me apart." She was totally irrational, sobbing like a beaten child. All she could think of was the men and what she knew they were capable of doing. They had forced Gretta to commit fellatio on them. But after what she had just seen them do with Maria, she knew that that was nothing but a warm up. "Please help me," she whimpered breathlessly. "I'll do anything."
Suddenly, Maria's dark flashing eyes lit up. "Anything?" she echoed. "Will you really do anything?"
Karla regretted instantly that she had used that figure of speech. Biting her lips, she whispered, "Please let me go."
Maria's hands were suddenly on her again, cupping the fullness of her breasts through the perspiration moistened fabric of her dress. She could feel the Chicano woman's fingers caressing the curved softness of her titties, searching for her nipples. The pink tips were beginning to swell once again. Karla cursed herself for the instinctive response. Marshalling all her strength, she jerked free of Maria's grasp, retreating until the chain stopped her movements. "Take your hands off me," she spat, icy hysteria quaking in her voice.
Maria smiled, but without humor. "You know what this is?" she said, holding up a ring of keys. "This is your freedom. Maybe your life. And I have it. Right here." She rubbed the keys lewdly across her pussy, licking her lips obscenely. Then, turning, she hung the key ring on a nail, far out of Karla's reach.
Understanding began to dawn weakly in
Karla's tormented mind. This woman was a total pervert. Even after being serviced by two men at the same time, she was not satisfied. As if being sodomized by her own brother wasn't enough, now she was demanding homosexual contact with Karla.
The chained woman sobbed softly, not fully understanding what Maria wanted or expected; not at all certain of what she should do. Whatever the woman had in mind, it couldn't be as bad as the things the two men would do to her. Yet, she couldn't stand the idea of allowing a woman to touch her.
When Maria's hands pressed against her bosom once more, however, she fought to control her revulsion. If she could only hold still long enough to satisfy the sex-crazed female's perverted lust, she might have a chance to get away with her life. Pressing her lips together, she willed herself to remain silent as the feminine hands explored the curves of her titties. She felt her ears reddening in embarrassment as her nipples grew quiveringly rigid again. She tried to disconnect herself from reality when Maria responded by tweaking them hungrily.
She felt the woman's fingers pawing at the buttons of the bodice of her dress. As much as she wanted to slap the hands from her, she managed to keep her emotions in check. The top of her garment was open, the inner halves of her breasts revealed to the sex-hungry gaze of the woman who was so casually undressing her.
"Please don't," Karla begged, fearful of her own body's response. "I don't want. . . "
But Maria silenced her by kissing her full on the mouth, burying her tongue in the warmth of Karla's throat. At first, Karla resisted, making her lips hard and unyielding. But gradually they relaxed under the gently insistent pressure of Maria's labial caress. The woman's tongue tasted spicy and exotic. Her body smelled musky, an aroma suggestive of sex. Breaking lips contact, the dark woman buried her face in the exposed cleavage of Karla's bosom. Then, kissing each breast lightly, she looked into her prisoner's eyes. "I give you my word," she said, "that I will let you go if you give me what I want."
Karla stared dumbly at her, at a complete loss for words.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" Maria asked. The prisoner nodded in silence. "And, you will do it?" Maria insisted softly.
"How do I know you will keep your promise?" Karla blurted.
"Because I swear it," Maria answered. Then, in a quiet voice she added, "And because you haven't any other choice."
Karla realized with sinking heart that the woman was right. She would have to do what the foul female demanded, no matter how vile or perverted it was. She would do it because no matter what it was, it was better than being at the mercy of those two horrible men. She would do it if there was only one chance in a million that it would earn her her freedom. How could she not?
Her throat was dry, her lips parched and cracking. Her panties were still wet from the fluids which had flowed while she witnessed the troilistic encounter of a few moments ago. She could feel the moistened fabric irritating the nub of her clitoris as she spoke. "All right," she whispered at last. "Tell me what you want me to do."
Without a word, Maria finished unbuttoning the housedress and slipped it over Karla's arms and head. Karla was naked except for the chain on her ankle and a pair of pale pink panties. Efficiently, Maria ripped them along the side seam, slipping them in tatters over Karla's one unfettered foot. Then, stepping back, she stared at the chained woman's nakedness.
"You have a very beautiful body," she murmured, her eyes glinting with lesbian lust. "Turn around and let me see all of you."
Her cheeks reddening with shame, Karla obeyed, stepping over her chain so that the woman could ogle her ass. When completed three hundred sixty degrees, and faced Maria again, the dark woman stepped forward, taking her in her arms. Karla felt the material of Maria's dress caressing the nakedness of her skin. It had a sensuous effect on her, making the lips of her naked pussy cringe in anticipation. Through the flimsy garment, she felt Maria's titties, huge and swollen against her chest. They were soft yet firmly resilient. Deep within her, there was an ineplicable urge to touch and fondle them. But she controlled the urge, keeping her hands at her sides.
Dropping to her knees in fron of Karla, Maria pressed her lips to Karla's smooth white belly. Gently, lovingly, she nibbled little circles around the indentation of her prisoner's navel. When the tip of her tongue flipped over its sensitive skin, Karla gasped involuntarily. Maria moaned.
Briefly, her lips glided over Karla's golden pubic hair. The young widow could feel the passionate woman's breath warming her clit, bathing her vaginal membranes in dewy heat. Strangely, she felt her hips beginning to move involuntarily. She tried tensing her muscles, struggling to keep her body perfectly stiff.
Suddenly Maria rose to her feet. With a single fluid gesture, she stripped her dress off over her head and flung it from her. Now she was as naked as her hapless victim. Karla found her eyes traveling over the woman's body, appraising it as only another woman could.
Maria's breasts were disproportionately large. But the huge brown nipples which capped them gave them grace and a kind of exotic loveliness. The two cylindrical caps stood out long and thick from the tips of the uplifted globes, each cylinder surrounded by a darkly pebbled aureole. A thick shock of raven hair upholstered the Latin woman's vaginal mound, metallically shiny against the soft unblemished smoothness of her skin. Karla could see the puckered cuntlips pouting scarlet in the middle of that busy tuft of black.
As if she had followed the prisoner's gaze, Maria began rubbing her cunt with her own tapering fingers. The sight entranced Karla. Instead of feeling disgusted or turned off, she was becoming stimulated by the naked woman's body. She almost forgot the chain which was fastened tightly around her ankle.
Aware of Karla's attention, Maria drove a long finger into her own cunt, circling its tip in a spiral as she drilled the tender passage. Withdrawing it slowly, she rubbed a drop of frothy liquid on the tip of her swollen clitoris. The sight made Karla's entire pelvic region tingle. Then dipping into her pussy for fluid again, Maria stepped forward. This time, when she withdrew her finger from her cunt, she lifted it to Karla's face. Slowly she turned her hand so that the bound woman could see the juice with which it was coated. With an elaborately sensuous gesture, she massaged the creamy foam into Karla's nipples.
The young widow whimpered, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out the obscene vision. But it stayed with her, haunting her mind. Maria's fingers were moving lightly over her nipples, massaging them with the fluid of her loins. Her palms were cupping the sensitive breasts, filling Karla's heart with palpitating desire.
Experimentally, not sure of what to do but anxious to try, she reached for Maria. Her fingertips touched the dark-skinned woman's breasts for a fleeting moment, stroking timorously over their silky surfaces. They felt smooth and comforting, making her want to fill her hands completely with them. Karla stroked the twin mounds of lust with her open hands. As she rubbed the turgid nipples with her palms, she watched Maria's expression change from patience to pleasure.
Suddenly Maria threw her arms around the unwilling lust partner, pressing their naked bodies together. Karla felt her breasts nestling against the softness of the other woman's bosom. Her nipples grew even larger, boring like drills into the soft skin before them. She felt Maria's belly rubbing against her own, and marveled at its smoothness. Then Maria humped her buttocks forward pressing her hairy vagina against Karla's naked mound.
Karla could feel the other woman's cuntal lips kissing her own obscenely. She knew that the contact should turn her stomach; but it didn't. Instead, it made her skin crawl with desire. Her hair seemed to be standing on end. The woman's clit was as hard as a little pebble. She could feel it rubbing against her own, bringing her to full and throbbing erection. For a moment, their bodies remained locked together, tit to tit, belly to belly, cunt to cunt. Rotating their hips in opposite directions, the two women rubbed against each other, their clits in constant and electrifying contact. Karla thought she felt something building inside her pulsating loins.
But Maria suddenly pulled away from her, allowing air to flow between them, cooling the ardor of their cunts. Falling to her knees, the Chicano pressed her face to the chained woman's open and oozing pussy. Karla felt the female lips upon her cunt lips, nibbling erotically at the softness of her twat. Maria's tongue shot forward to stab at her trembling clitoris, wrenching a groan of involuntary passion from the prisoner's throat. Encouraged by the sound, Maria sucked the rigid little nubbin into her mouth, holding it gently in her teeth while her tongue rolled it around and around. Karla thought she would scream with excitement.
She felt Maria's hands on her hips and knew that the woman wanted her to lie on the floor. Not even thinking of their bargain or of the promise of her freedom, she complied. Spreading her legs wide, she opened herself to Maria's delicious exploration. The Chicano girl lay beside her, her feet toward Karla's head, her head nestled on Karla's thigh. Breathing hotly across the trembling membranes of the fettered woman's cunt, she dipped her fingers in it. She rolled the clitoral nubbin gently about. Karla's breathing was labored as she responded with genuine excitement to the homosexual caress.
Rising to her knees, Maria straddled Karla's face. Once more she buried her head in the prisoner's groin. Lustfully, she began to lick the labial tissues with the tip of her tongue, causing the puckered orifice to blossom. Karla felt her cunt lips opening like the petals of a rose. Passionately, she looked up into the gaping snatch which waved above her face. It was coated with moisture and flushed a deep, rosy pink. Inhaling deeply, she smelled the fragrance of it. Its sweetness of exotic musk was mingled with the acid scent of sperm. She remembered how Butchie's cock had slid so easily into it. No longer able to contain her desire, she lifted her head. Brushing her lips lightly across the blushing membranes, Karla tasted the heady flavor.
Maria moaned at the contact, responding by thrusting even deeper into Karla's vaginal cavity. Immediately, Karla slid her tongue forward, gliding its tip over the parted lips of Maria's snatch. Reaching up, she threw her arms around the naked woman's ass, lifting herself so that her face pressed tightly against the aromatic pussy.
Motivated by the lust which Maria's caresses had inspired in her, she plunged her tongue deep between her cunt lips to taste the full and glorious flavors of womanhood. Maria's hips began to thrash, waving her pussy from side to side. But Karla stayed with her. The taste was spicy and sweet, with a faintly acid overtone which incensed her; aroused her. It made her own juices flow even more copiously.
She could hear Maria sucking them enthusiastically from her slit. She felt teeth and lips nibbling at the folded rolls of her inner cunt flesh. Hungrily she sucked huge mouthfuls of smooth and tender flesh into the warmth of her honeyed throat. She ran the blade of her tongue over the sensitive tissues, feeling the woman's writhing response.
When Maria's tongue wrapped once again around her active little clit, she moaned. The sound set up a vibration in her throat which turned her mouth into and electric massager. She could taste a change in Maria's fluids. They were becoming thicker, richer, with a more intoxicating flavor. The scent was going to her head, spinning her around and making her forget who she was and what she came from.
All she knew was that she and this strange and evil woman-this girl without morals-were riding together on a whirlwind of excitement. She felt herself approaching a new kind of climax, one like she had never experienced before. The softness of the other woman's touch; the depth of her response; the unembarrassed groans of passion which came from her lips; all served to distinguish the experience from a heterosexual one. All thoughts abandoned her, all reasoning left her. She was no longer a prisoner held in place by a chain, but a willing slave to lust.
"Oh no," she wailed, her words muffled by the cunt flesh which filled her mouth. "It can't be happening. I don't want it to. . . "
But Maria drove back against her more firmly, pressing her pussy against the sobbing woman's lips. Karla's nose nudged at her dark and spicy ass hole as her tongue plunged to the roots in her roiling cuntal cave. For a moment, she flashed on a vision of Jose's ass-reaming probe. But then all recollection faded.
All at once her magnificent orgasm began. She almost didn't recognize it at first. There was no tedious buildup, no accumulation of pressure. Instead, it was as though a giant balloon had suddenly burst, pricked by the sharpest of pins. Fragments of her shattered consciousness sailed off in all directions. A swizzling sizzling sheet of flame simply engulfed her soul all at once. With a bestial scream, she began flowing, filling Maria's mouth with the juices of her femininity. At the same time, she felt a river flowing in her throat.
The Chicano woman bucked and rolled above her, pressing her pussy against Karla's contorting face and then pulling it away again. Locked together, they toiled, each spewing the liquid fury of passion into the other's throat; each moaning the joy of her climax to the uncaring solar system. Then, just as quickly as it began, the explosion was over.
Karla was jolted back to the harshness of reality. No longer tripping like an angel through heaven, she found herself naked and lying on the hard-packed dirt floor of the pump shed with a cunt in her mouth. She couldn't believe it had happened.
Maria rolled off Karla with a joyous smile on her face. "That was beautiful," she said. "Now I will keep my promise."
For an instant, Karla forgot the horror of what she had just been forced to do. She had earned her freedom. She could escape to safety. As Maria bent to insert a key in the lock which held her chained, the prisoner reached for her clothing.
Suddenly the earth shook to the sound of an explosion not far away. Instinctively, Karla threw her hand over her head in a gesture of self-protection. But Maria didn't even look up. Hurriedly, she finished unfastening the chain. "Quickly," she said. "You better hurry before they get back."
Karla was stunned, staring out the door at the billow of smoke and flame which was consuming a wooden building in the east orchard. It was the equipment shed. They had blown it up, destroying the tractor and all of the orchard machinery. She felt her heart sink into a deep and bottomless pit. That was it. Now she had nothing.
But Maria snapped her out of it by taking her shoulders and shaking her roughly. "Go!" she commanded. "Now! Run like you life depends on it."
Realizing the danger she was in, Karla left without another moment's hesitation. Somehow, as she sped across the orchard, she managed to struggle into her dress. Miraculously, she made it back to the house. Slamming the door, she locked it securely behind her. Then she fell sobbing to the carpeted floor.
CHAPTER NINE
Karla felt like the lone surviving member of a defeated regiment. It had been three days since the horrible experience in the pump shed. She had hardly slept an hour in that time. The sheriff had come to speak with her several times, but was no closer to catching the vandals than he had ever been. He still wasn't ready to admit that she was the victim of a plot, and he persisted on blaming the incidents on trouble-making migrants.
Karla had told him only about the crop damage, and the destruction of her equipment. She made no mention at all of the perverted orgy which she had been forced to witness, or of the lesbianic relations in which she had been made to participate. She didn't even tell him that she had seen the culprits, afraid that she would blurt out the entire story as soon as he asked for a description.
She had tried calling Paul Sterling, but he was still out of town. With him gone, and with the sheriff taking so blas' an attitude, she felt totally alone. Afraid that the hoodlums would be back again, she had sent Gretta to visit with an aunt in Tucson, Arizona. For a while, she had been tempted to go herself. But she simply couldn't give up.
Not that there was much left to fight for any more. The west orchard had been destroyed by fire. All the almonds in the north orchard were waterlogged and would be rotten within days. And the equipment shed explosion had practically wiped her out. She wouldn't be able to cultivate next spring without a tractor and implements. But she was determined to hold out.
Disgusted with the lack of police interest, she'd armed herself, getting Dick's old shotgun out of the closet and cleaning it carefully. He had taught her to shoot when they first moved to the Valley, and she had no fear of firearms. Loading both barrels, she dropped an additional supply of shells into her pocket and went out to patrol her last remaining asset-the south orchard. If she got so much as a glimpse of Butchie, Jose, or Maria, she was going to blow their heads off.
Wearily, she paced between the trees, the gun clenched tightly in her hand. Once or twice she put it to her shoulder when she saw movements from the corner of her eye. But each time it turned out to be nothing more than a squirrel. She longed for revenge, almost hoping that the thugs would return.
She had been standing guard for hours and her vision was beginning to blur. But when she saw three men approaching from a distance, she became instantly alert. Squinting, she looked up to see whether Butchie or Jose was among them. They weren't. The men were dressed like hunters, and seemed to be joking as they walked. Each held a rifle, but all three weapons were in cases. In spite of their innocent appearance, however, Karla was cautious.
Raising the shotgun and pointing it in their general direction, she called, "Stop right there." The men obeyed, remaining as immobile as statues while she approached. "Who are you?" she demanded. "And what are you doing here?"
One of the men broke into a smile. "You've been watching too much television, lady," he said. His tone was friendly, his eyes kind and gentle. He was tall and slim, with a walrus moustache and hair that was fashionably long. He was dressed in traditional hunter's red, and wore a bright peaked cap. "My name's Ted Cooper," he said. "These are my buddies Bob and Wally."
The one called Bob made a formal little bow as he was introduced, his hand reaching up to tip an imaginary hat. He was shorter than his friend, but stocky, with broad and powerful shoulders. Wally looked like a dentist on holiday, with close-cropped hair and black-rimmed spectacles. His hunting clothes looked brand new.
Karla kept the shotgun trained in their direction, but loosened her grip on the handle. "What do you want?" she asked them. This time her tone was a little less stern.
"We're out for rabbits and squirrels," Cooper said matter-of-factly. "Most of the folks around here have given us permission to hunt on their land. The way those varmints eat nuts, we're doing the ranchers a favor every time we shoot one." He smiled again, his white teeth flashing. "How about you? Would it be all right if we hunted here?"
Karla stopped to reflect for a moment. It might be a good idea to have armed men around. Not even Jose or Butchie would try anything then. "I don't know," she said indecisively. "There's been some trouble around here." As she spoke, she lowered her shotgun.
"So we gathered," Cooper said, indicating her weapon. "That's a hell of a way to greet strangers." Then, laughing, he added, "But it's a good thing you didn't fire with that barrel all jammed up that way." Smiling casually, he reached for the weapon, taking it gently out of her hand.
Karla, lulled by his friendly tone, was startled to find herself so suddenly unarmed. Immediately, the three masculine faces hardened. Wally, the one with the glasses, stepped around behind her. Bob moved off to her left. She felt her heart begin to pound like a tom-tom as she looked around helplessly at the three men who encircled her.
"What is this?" she sputtered. "I thought you wanted to hunt."
The one called Bob laughed menacingly. "We've got what we were after," he said, uncasing his rifle. It was a brutal looking weapon with a long black barrel and a powerful telescopic sight. Lifting it to his shoulder, he squinted through the crosshairs, aiming it directly at her forehead. Karla felt sick with terror.
"Take off your clothes," Ted commanded. His voice was soft and well-modulated. But he was definitely in charge.
Karla stared uncomprehendingly. It couldn't really be happening. It just couldn't.
Ted waited patiently for Karla to obey him, giving her a moment to collect her thoughts. But when she still didn't move, he turned to his associate. "Count to three, Bob," he said softly. "Then shoot her right between the eyes."
His words jolted the despondent woman. He was so casual, so nonchalant, that it was hard to believe that he was actually ordering her execution. Folding her arms, she glared at the men, her eyes shifting from Bob to Wally and then back to Ted Cooper.
Then she heard Bob speak. "One. . . " was all he said. Her mind spun in terrified confusion. He was counting. As though he really meant to go through with it. "Two . . . " he intoned in the same flat emotionless voice.
Suddenly Karla realized that if she didn't do something, she might have less than a second to live. Wordlessly, she pulled her sweater from the waistband of her jeans and drew it over her head. Then she opened the snap of her pants and peeled them over her thighs.
"That's better," Cooper said. "Maybe we won't have to kill you after all." His eyes flashed as he looked her up and down. Her panties and bra were of simple white cotton, covering her as much as any such garments could. But they seemed to hide nothing from his hungry lustful gaze.
Karla felt helpless and bare before the three armed and dangerous men. "What . . . What.. . What do you want from me?" she stammered. "I've done nothing to you."
Immediately, the other man said, "One . . . "
Karla started to cry, knowing that there was nothing to stop them from having their way with her. Helplessly, she unsnapped her brassiere and removed it. Then, without looking up at them, she stripped off her panties. Her breast heaved with sobs as she gave up all hope. Whatever they asked, she would do. She was like a trained animal whose spirit has been totally broken.
"All right," Cooper said. "Who wants to be first?"
His words emphasized her total vulnerability. Automatically, she covered her naked cunt with both hands. It was a token attempt to shield herself from their lustful stares. She was being offered like livestock on an auction block for the satisfaction of their perverted whims. It would be better to die right there on the spot.
"I'll be first," Wally said. His glasses had become steamed, and he took them off to wipe them on his shirt. Putting them back on, he walked around her, carefully scrutinizing her naked body. "Yes indeed," he murmured under his breath, as though talking to himself. "I'll be glad to go first."
Suddenly the full significance of the word "first" struck the widow, making Karla's knees weaken and almost throwing her off balance. They were going to line up and take turns with her. She had to run. Even if they killed her.
But before she could lift a foot, Ted and Bob fell upon her, dragging her to the ground and pinning her in spite of her struggles. Each of them leaned his weight against one of her shoulders while gripping an ankle to pull her legs apart. She felt her cunt being opened and exposed to their lewd intentions. Through a cloud of bitter tears, she saw Wally bending over to peer at her sex as though it was some oddity on display in a bottle.
"Very nice," he was muttering to himself. "Very nice indeed. I think I'll put it right in there." Unzipping his fly, he took out his prick and waved it at her, smiling cruelly when Karla winced in horrified anticipation. Then, without bothering to remove his pants, he fell to his knees between her forcefully splayed thighs. Inching his way toward her pelvis, he held his prick in his hand, rubbing its head against the smooth white skin of her inner thighs. She twisted and fought in an effort to break the grips of the men who held her captive, but it was hopeless. In an instant, Wally's dick was prizing at the gateway to her sex.
He worked it up and down, rubbing the swollen organ between the partly stretched lips of her pussy. She was dry inside, all of her instincts rebelling against his forceable entry. Nothing could hold him back, however. Shaking his hips in a series of nervous contractions, he jabbed at her pussy with his weapon. She could feel its blunt tip driving against her aching tissues, forcing her vaginal flanges apart to allow him inside. For a moment, a flashing recollection of Maria flitted through her mind. How gentle the woman had been; how nearly affectionate. Wally had no regard at all for the sensitivity of her vaginal tissues. All he wanted was cunt.
Throwing himself forward, the spectacled rapist speared an inch of penis into Karla's recoiling vagina. Her grunt of pain brought a laugh from Ted Cooper's throat. Now that Wally was in her, it was no longer necessary for the others to hold her legs apart. But they continued to do so. Brutally, the men pulled back on her ankles until she thought she would split. The pain in her hips was excruciating, yet it was dwarfed by the ache in her pussy.
Wally was drilling deeper, ramming his penile muscle home in the soft wet interior of her tender widow's cunt. As soon as he hit bottom, he began to rock, driving his cock in and out of her like a steam-powered pile-driver. Her internal pussy membranes remained dry. Each vicious stroke irritated them a little more. Karla cried out in pain as he mercilessly scoured her.
The woman's shouts of agony only seemed to enhance her attacker's perverted pleasure. Faster and faster he pistoned, the friction of his unlubricated cock irritating her tortuously. If she could have wrapped her legs around him to slow his jerking rhythm, Karla would have done so. But the iron hands which held her wouldn't even permit her that. There was a stone under her ass, digging painfully into her. Each time Wally's pelvis slammed into her, she felt it bite the softness of her naked skin. Overhead, the sun shone brightly, stinging her unprotected nakedness. She was in torment, condemned to an earthly purgatory from which there was no possible escape.
Wally's breath was coming in short labored gasps as he used the weeping woman for his ugly satisfaction. She tried to block from her mind the knowledge of what soon would be happening, but it was impossible. His seed would inundate her, soaking her vulva with obscene viscosity and easing its movement within her. Then, when he had done with her, the others would add their juices to his, forever polluting her with their sperm.
"Nooooooo," she shrieked in frustrated desperation. "Nooooooo!! ! "
Wally fastened his teeth to one of her nipples, chewing and gnawing at it until it hardened in spite of her revulsion. His tongue swept over it roughly, totally unconscious of her sensation. His fingers pinched the flesh of her hips, moving her with him as he fucked her without mercy. He was hurting her all over, making her wish for death to end the agony of living. But he wasn't finished yet.
Reaching between them, his finger sought the tightness of Karla's clitoris where it hid nestled in its sheltering pouch. Insensitively, he rolled it with his fingertip. He jabbed at it harder and harder, as though angry that it failed to respond by becoming erect. The pain of his rough treatment made her whimper, and he mistook the sound for an expression of excitement.
"Oh, you like that," he muttered, laughing softly in her ear. "Well, here, have some more." He was knuckling the little love button relentlessly, bruising it with the motion of his fingers.
Karla grunted in agony, weakened by the pain which he was causing her. But there was something else too. Somehow another feeling was taking shape in the pit of her genitals. A feeling which she had to struggle not to recognize. Although everything hurt her-her cunt burning with the roughness of his unlubricated penetration, her clit throbbing with the agony of his carelessly diddly fingers-there was a glimmer of excitement glowing softly in her womb.
In spite of her disgust, the fluid of desire was starting to flow inside her, easing the brutality of his copulation. She hoped he wouldn't notice it. She prayed for him to remain unaware of her involuntary capitulation.
Wally was too lost in his own illicit pleasure to be conscious of anything else. His breath was coming in groaning, wheezing gasps as he humped his pelvis against her. His cock was swelling inside her, its thickness doubling as an orgasm bubbled in his nuts. Suddenly it began pumping its load of steamy gism into her tingling twat.
She could feel the heat of it coursing into her tubes and splattering against her inner vaginal walls. It was thick and moist and syrupy. The thought that it was capable of making a child horrified Karla. She tried to press her ass against the earth, but her rapist's two accomplices held her fast.
"Unh, unh, unh, unh," Wally grunted, the contractions of his throat coinciding with the contractions of his squirting penis. He was filling her with a hot load of semen, leaving his filthy residue in the pit of her womb. She felt the vile liquid oozing out to coat her tense thighs and buttocks. At last, after what seemed like forever, he climbed off her. His prick was limp and flaccid, dangling uselessly from the front of his pants. The cloth of his trousers were stained with his ejaculate, a large ring of dark moisture surrounding the opening of his gaping fly.
"Not bad," he said, standing up breathlessly. "That's one hot little pussy. Maybe when you guys are done, I'll give it another go."
Karla turned her face to the side and spat. But the men only laughed.
"Why don't you take her next, Bob," Cooper said. "While she still has some fight left in her."
"All right," Bob answered casually. "But sit her up. I feel like a blowjob."
His words sent an icy chill up and down Karla's spine. They were going to make her suck him off like those other animals had done to Gretta. The image brought the taste of bile to her throat. Unable to help herself, she gagged, to the amusement of her tormentors.
"That sounds like a good idea," Cooper said. Taking hold of her golden braids, he yanked her to a sitting position. Karla whimpered softly knowing that resistance was out of the question; that she would end up doing whatever they demanded. Silent and sullen, she watched as Bob undid his belt buckle and lowered his pants. He was wearing loose-fitting boxer shorts with bright hearts printed on them. The looming shape of his cock was ominous and threatening. Swiftly, he peeled down the drawers to expose it.
His prick was short, not more than four or five inches in length. But it was as thick around as a salami. His pubis was almost hairless, as white as the belly of a fish. But his scrotum was huge, dangling down almost halfway to his knees. He reminded her of a bull. Then Karla remembered what that bull was getting ready to do to her, and she bit her lip in horror.
Still holding her by the hair, Cooper twisted her head until her lips were just inches away from the stubby organ. like a jockey surrendering the reins, he handed her braids to Bob and stepped back to watch the action. Karla didn't even try to resist. When he pulled her toward him, she complied without protest, stopping only when his thick prickhead nudged at her soft lips.
For a moment, she clenched her teeth, refusing to allow his foul member to enter her mouth. But when he yanked brutally on her braids, she opened wide and took its tapering point inside. The head was only slightly bigger in circumference than the stubby tool itself, and she couldn't be sure when her lips had reached the shaft. When he humped forward, she felt his balls slap against her chin. She knew that he had worked it all the way in.
Her lips were stretched as wide as they could go around the massive girth of his organ, forming a perfect "o". Her cheeks already ached from the strain. She felt the heavy cudgel lying on her tongue. To avoid choking on it, she moved her head back slightly.
"That's it," Bob said. "You got the idea. Suck it good. And give me a little tongue action."
The vulgarity of his command jolted her, but Karla knew that there was no choice but to comply. Tentatively, she lapped his weapon's underbelly with her tongue. Some part of her heard him sigh, but her conscious mind blocked the sound in an attempt to avoid the pain of realization. Mechanically, she moved her head back and forth, stroking the thickness of his staff with her tightly stretched lips. His pubic bone pressed against her nose and she felt the tip of his organ nudging at the back of her throat. For a moment, she thought she would choke, but then she managed to slide backwards again, relieving the pressure on her palate.
The man let go of her braids to clutch painfully at her ears, twisting them as he maneuvered her head the way he wanted it. "You give a good blow job," he growled as his prick slid swiftly in and out of her mouth. "And here comes the payoff."
She felt his stubby organ swelling even thicker as its tubes filled with semen. Then it began to twitch and contract. Gob after gob of whirling gism shot from its tip to fill her mouth with the taste of burnt almonds. She almost choked on the jetting stream of obscenity, but managed to force it past her constricting larynx. As she felt the vile liquid slithering down her throat everything around her started to go dark. Bob was huffing and bucking urgently, pouring his hot load of semen into her unresisting belly. But, for a moment at least, Karla was spared the torment of knowing it. Mercifully, she slipped into a shroud of unconsciousness.
When she awoke, she was draped over a log with her naked ass lifted high in the air. One of the men was holding her feet to keep her from struggling. Another stood on her hands. Ted Cooper, the leader of the felonious trio, was kneeling between her legs, his cock skewering into her pussy from behind. Karla had no way of knowing how long he had been fucking her, or how many times she had been screwed since Bob went off in her mouth. It didn't even matter any more. She was devoid of all sensation, lost in a fog of nonawareness.
She felt Cooper grinding his hairy loins against her buttocks as he rammed his prick all the way into her cunt. She was no longer dry. Her membranes were no longer unyielding. She had been lubricated thoroughly by the gism which flooded her against her will. Detached from reality, she waited for him to finish with her, no longer caring what would happen next.
Cooper was rotating his hips with each forward stroke of his cock. She could feel its head scouring at the inner walls of her cunt, bruising and irritating her vaginal lining. His voice was a grunting drone of bestial satisfaction, each crashing stroke bringing another grunt from his lips.
like a rodeo cowboy on a bucking bronco, he rode her twat to glory. In and out his penis flashed, churning the fluids which mingled inside her to a frothy whipped cream. His fingers dug cruelly into her shoulders as he slapped his loins against her. Then, to relieve the building strain, he exploded.
She felt his load of gism pumping deep into her channel, drenching her cervix and flooding her womb. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drifted once again into the peace of unconsciousness. But the trio of rapists continued using and abusing her body until they reached the limit of their capacity.
When she awoke the next time she was naked and alone, her genitals drenched in male gism.
CHAPTER TEN
It was late afternoon, and Sue Bennett was beginning to get bored. Things had been slow in the office for the past week or so. Dave Stone spent most of his time at his desk with the door closed. Almost nobody phoned him. Except for Mr. Cooper, and a man named Norcrest who worked for the bank. Whenever Cooper called, Stone spoke to him. But he gave her specific instructions that if it was Norcrest, he was out.
It was beginning to look like the firm of Stone and Sterling was in some kind of financial trouble. Business and finance were a little over Sue's head, but from the conversations she had heard, she gathered that it had something to do with the Nut Valley development. Apparently Mr. Stone had been unable to acquire a certain piece of property which he needed. And that was holding up the whole deal. There was even talk of the bank calling in its notes if construction wasn't started at once.
David had become morose. In the past week, he had hardly spoken to her at all. When he did, it was in grunting monosyllables. Once or twice, he had called her inside for a fast afternoon fuck. But each time, he had been so swift and brutal that she hardly looked looked forward to the sessions any more.
As Sue sat at her desk, she found herself thinking about Mr. Sterling, Stone's partner. He was a gentleman. A lot nicer than David. She had never heard him raise his voice. And when ever she saw him, he was wearing a smile. Too bad he only came in once in a while. And too bad it was Stone who had the hots for her instead of Sterling.
Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and thought about what it would be like to squirm naked in the arms of Paul Sterling. She could see his cock in her imagination sliding into the cleft of her pussy. She could almost feel it getting her off. Her cunt was just beginning to warm to the erotic daydream when the sound of a buzzer jarred her from her revere.
"Yes, Mr. Stone," she said into the intercom. Her voice was almost business like, but not entirely convincing.
"I need you in here," he said curtly. She heard the intercom click off.
She had a pretty good idea of what he needed her for. After all, sex was her only office skill. In spite of the way things had been going lately, she felt her body tingling in erotic response. Any fuck was better than none.
Reaching for her purse, she extracted a mirror and checked her appearance quickly. Her red hair was in place, her fuck cut giving it a studied tousled look. Her brown eyes were clear and sparkling. Her long lashes fluttered when she blinked them. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue, she puckered them, studying her reflection carefully. Satisfied, she returned the mirror to her bag. Standing, she smoothed the skirt of her micro-dress over her shapely thighs.
When she entered Stone's office, he was sitting on the edge of his couch. The fly of his trousers was open, and his swollen organ was already sticking out. As she closed the door behind her, he stroked it slowly up and down with his hand. Sue stopped to watch him for a moment.
His cock was long and hard. It pulsated rhythmically, pounding blood engorging its veins and arteries. As he masturbated idly, she saw its swollen head double in size. It was round and thick, like the cap of a mushroom. A single winking eye bisected its surface. From this slit oozed a steady stream of syrupy goo.
Sue felt her pussy salivate at the sight of his naked prick. It didn't matter how rough he treated her or how much he neglected her. When she saw, or even thought about his cock, she desired it. It was a reflex. An instinct.
"How do you want me?" she asked softly, her eyes glued to his drooling pecker.
His answer was curt. "Naked," he said.
Aroused by his directness, and by the obvious hunger in his glance, she hastened to please him. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her dress. Without a word, she slipped it over her shoulders and stepped out of it.
Her breasts were held in place by a scant wisp of fabric which did little to contain their rolling movement, and nothing to hide them from view. Her nipples were puckered and rigid, two dark points against the translucent material of the bra. Looking down, she could see their prominence. like a pair of six guns, they pointed at the target of her lust. Undoing the snap which held the garment in place, she freed herself of it.
He sighed softly as her tits sprang into view. A droplet of saliva was forming at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were glazed with desire. His hand moved more quickly up and down the length of his rod.
Standing in her panties and hose, she eyed his cock and licked her lips significantly. "Is that what you've been doing in here all by yourself?" she asked. Her voice was sultry and seductive.
He said nothing. Instead, he stared at her pussy. The look on his face said enough.
Her pantyhose were sheer but dark, exposing the shapely softness of her legs and the cushiony fur of her pubic plane. Beneath them, her underpants could be seen. They were really nothing more than a narrow strip of elastic with a black fringe over the spot where her pussy gaped hungrily. With a languidly sensuous movement, she stripped the nylons off. Tugging erotically, she peeled them over her hips and thighs so that only the scanty fringe covered her loins. Then, drawing them slowly over the shapely contours of her legs, she kicked them from her.
Without looking at him, she could tell that David was becoming even more excited. She could hear it in his breathing which had become deeper and more sibilant. She could feel it in the vibrations of lust with which he filled the room. With a single swipe of her hand, she pulled the fringed drawers from her crotch, leaving herself totally naked.
Going to the couch where he sat, she dropped to her knees between his feet. Leaning forward, she took his organ in her mouth and sucked it vigorously. His hand continued sliding up and down its turgid length. His knuckles grazed her lips at the top of each gliding upstroke. A little at a time, she gobbled his prick into her mouth. As it entered her, she laved it lovingly with the flat of her tongue. Stone's pulse was already beginning to quicken.
After tonguing him from the base of his member to its dilated cum-slit, she stopped and looked into his eyes, the organ's shaft still in her mouth. Parting her lips, she let go of it and reached up to kiss him on the lips. She drove her tongue deep into the warmth of his mouth, caressing his palate with the taste of his own sex. Nibbling at his ear, she whispered, "You can do anything you want to me. I'm yours."
Stone's voice croaked dryly as he spoke. "Your ass," he muttered hoarsely. "I want to put it in your ass."
Sue's breathing quickened at the lewdness of his statement. He had never done it to her that way before, although he was fond of taking her cunt from behind. The thought of what was about to happen thrilled her, making her clitoris harden until it stood out like a miniature prick from her loins. His cock was thick and fat, and she knew that it would probably hurt, boring into her tight and tender ass hole. But the snugness of the fit would heighten the pleasure for them both. Leaning over him again, she began licking his dick like a lollypop. She knew he was watching as she ran her extended tongue up and down over its throbbing surface. She wanted him to be thoroughly wet before he attempted anal penetration.
When his cock was coated with a glistening sheen of saliva, she turned from him and poised on her hands and knees on the floor. "Wet me too," she said, looking back at him through her legs. "Otherwise that big cock of yours will just tear me apart."
Still completely dressed, with his cock sticking out at the front of his pants, Stone got onto the floor behind her. Bending forward, he puffed his warm breath over her tight little ass hole. Her thighs were parted, her knees about two feet apart as she tilted her ass back at him. Beneath the little brown button, her cunt was red and gaping. A thick coating of vaginal lubricant covered the rosy flesh of her twat's out-turned inner lips.
He ran his tongue tip lightly over the entire length of her slit. At its bottom-most end was her clit, hard and pulsing with sex-hunger. There his tongue began its journey, rolling the little marble around until her hips were flailing wildly from side to side. He bathed her vaginal opening with his tongue as he brought it upward toward the fragrant entry to her rectum. Then, stiffening the lingual organ like a prick, he drove it between puckered anal lips.
For a moment the sphincter muscle resisted him, holding the little opening shut to keep him from tasting its interior. But as he rolled and twisted his tongue inside it, she opened to him. Sue could feel the warm organ snaking into her ass, coating the walls of her bowel with moisture. Lowering her face to the floor, she lifted her butt even higher, moving it in swirling figure-eights to caress his nose and face with her crack. One of her hands stole down between her body and the floor to cup her clitoral mound. With her fingers, she scissored the little pleasure button, stimulating it as he tongued her anus. At last she was thoroughly lubricated.
Stone straightened, undoing his buckle and opening his waist button. He pushed the trousers down over his hips, baring the hairy patch which surrounded the base of his cock and freeing his balls from the confinement of his crotch. His swollen organ sprang forward, aiming instinctively for the anal opening which lay spread out and greased up before him. Kneeing his way forward, he inched closer to her.
Sue felt the taut-skinned head of his throbbing penis sliding erotically over the soft white skin of her ass cheek as he drove toward her nether opening. She stroked her own passionate clitty until it throbbed hotly. The tapering tip of his rod was nudging at the forbidden portal of her ass hole.
The pressure which he applied at first was gentle and uncertain. But when the lips of her ass hole remained closed to him, he pushed a little harder. With a series of short staccato jabs, he drove the tapering point into the rubbery warmth of her anal ante-chamber. Then, with a grinding roll of his hips, he plunged ahead.
Sue felt the bulbous head of his weapon being swallowed into the tightness of her anus. She began to move at once in the rhythmic tempo of lust. A millimeter at a time, the penis humped its way inside, stretching the walls of her already aching rectum. She was not accustomed to being penetrated in the ass hole, and the suddenness of his entry hurt her in spite of the copious sheen of saliva with which both of them had been coated.
When Stone was an inch and a half into her, he stopped, allowing her tight muscles to grow accustomed to the unnatural intrusion. Slowly, they began to go slack, pleasure gradually overpowering pain. A low guttural sigh issued from the secretary's throat, filling the room with the music of lust as he worshipped at the altar of her bottom.
She rocked forward and back while he remained perfectly motionless, her ass gobbling his prick at its own lustful pace. The rubbery walls of her bowel rolled back for him a little at a time, allowing his cock to go deeper and deeper still. When he was halfway into her, she threw herself back at him with all her strength. Sensing her intentions, he met her thrusts.
All at once, he sunk to rock bottom in the well of her rectum, his cock screwing to the hilt in her ass hole. She could feel the curling wool of his pubic bush scouring at her buttocks and massaging the soft fleshy crack which separated their softly rounded fullness. like a strangled animal, she moaned, her gurgling voice spurring him onward.
He began to move quickly, rocking forward and back as he buried his prick in her ass and then drew it almost all the way out. She timed the movements of her clit-stroking finger to coincide with his ass-fucking rhythm, and found herself climbing higher and higher on the ladder of excitement. Her cunt was juicing furiously, thick rivulets of slime dripping out to stain his carpet and to wet the knuckles of her self-loving hand.
It felt good to be fucked this way, to be sprawled on the floor with her ass open and exposed while he stuffed it with the meat of his pecker. She had never suspected that it could feel so good. Her voice a rasping cacophony of sexual sounds, she howled her pleasure to the world. Her hips rotated drunkenly as she scoured her internal anal membranes with the head of his masculine flesh pole of desire.
She could feel his heavy testicles slapping against the backs of her thighs as he rocked his body vigorously against her. The hair which coated his scrotum tickled her, making her writhe sensuously each time he bucked against her. Her breath was coming in short panting gasps, barely enough to keep her lungs supplied with oxygen. She was beginning to feel weak and dizzy.
The tingling waves of pleasure which emanated from her clit were overtaking her entire body. Harder and faster she masturbated, her fingers slipping wetly through the fountain of fluid which bathed the sensitive nubbin. His cock in her ass was elevating her to heights which she had never before dreamed of reaching, while her self-loving fingers brought her closer and closer to release.
Then it happened, all at once and without warning. The first rollicking wave of orgasm washed over her, leaving her mind drained of all thought and reason. Her body shook like a mountain in an earthquake, tremors of excitement wracking her frame and making her skin sizzle with the heat. Her cunt began to flow like a river unleashed, hot torrents of sex juice spurting from her as she rode the crest of a wave.
"I'm cumming," she announced, her finger still twirling over the root of her pleasure button. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming."
Her words overtook the man who slaved hungrily at her ass. In an instant, he too was exploding in orgasmic fulfillment. She felt the first rippling burst of semen shoot from his prick to sear the lining of her belly. It was quickly followed by another, and another, and another. As though he had been saving it up for a lifetime. Stone unleashed a tidal wave of hot gism into her anus. She could feel it flowing thickly into her intestines, lubricating his still pummeling penis as it drove in and out of her ass.
Not caring who heard her, she shrieked like a wounded animal, lost in the throes of dynamic sexuality. Stone's voice joined hers, a series of bestial grunts tearing from his lungs as though he were being tormented by the fires of hell itself. Together they serenaded the god and goddesses of lust, their bodies coupling unnaturally to mingle the heat of their vitals.
After an eternal moment non-connection with the realities of life, they drifted together back to earth. "Hhhhhhmmmm-mm," the woman sighed, allowing her body to stretch limply out on the floor. "That was wonderful." When he rolled off her, she turned over and reached for his prick. It was soft and flaccid. Cradling it in her fingers, she began rubbing it lovingly, in an effort to restore its virility and strength. "Let's do it again," she whispered. "Right here and now."
Stone grunted, his lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile. "I can use it," he said softly, "if you can raise it." It was the first time in a week that she had heard anything other than hostility in his voice. Maybe she had discovered the secret of soothing the savage beast.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the outer office. As though their naked bodies had been touched by a live electric wire, Stone and his secretary sprang to their feet. She rushed to gather her scattered clothes while he quickly pulled his pants up over his hips. The woman was still undressed however, when Karla Thompson burst angrily into the room.
Karla was so filled with fury that, for a moment, she didn't realize what she had interrupted. Then she looked around her, blinking as recognition dawned. Mr. Stone's pants were rumpled, and his fly was gaping open. His secretary was totally nude, her under things strewn about the office floor. When she finally realized that they had been having sex, she was shocked. All the angry words which she had been rehearsing fled in the face of her embarrassment. Open-mouthed, she stood there just glaring at him.
"What the hell do you mean coming in here that way?" Stone demanded, instinctively resorting to bravado in a sticky situation. "I'm a busy man. And I don't see anyone without an appointment." Turning to the redhead who was busily slipping into her underpants, he said, "Finish getting dressed, Miss Bennett. And show Mrs. Thompson out."
His words reminded Karla of why she had come there. "You bastard," she hissed through teeth that were clenched. "You dirty rotten bastard."
Stone smiled without humor, and spoke in carefully modulated tones. "Understand you've had a bit of bad luck, Mrs. Thompson," he said softly. "But I guess that's a farmer's lot. Maybe you should have sold when I asked you the first time, eh?"
Karla's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to get away with what you've done," she said hotly. "Even if I have to kill you myself."
"Is that a threat, Mrs. Thompson?" the realtor asked coolly. "Miss Bennett, did you hear that? She threatened me." He turned to his secretary who was standing there in her bra and panties, unwilling to say a word.
"I threatened you?" Karla sputtered, finding it difficult to keep her emotions in control "It was you. I know it was you! First you set fire to my orchard. Then your hoodlums attacked my daughter. Then the explosion. And . . . and . . . " Choked with sobs of bitter frustration, she was unable to go on. Her shoulders heaved spasmodically as she began to weep.
Still half naked, Sue Bennett went to the crying woman and put her arms around her shoulders. She had no idea of what Mrs. Thompson was talking about, but it sounded like she had been through hell.
Stone was unsympathetic, however. Striding over to where the two women stood, he shoved his secretary roughly aside, pushing her away from Karla's trembling form. Then, with his open hand, he slapped Karla heavily across the face. "Listen, bitch," he said angrily. "Don't come in here again unless you're ready to sell out. And you'd better make it soon. I'm running out of patience."
Karla stared uncomprehendingly at him, all the fight gone out of her.
"I've been kind to you up until now," he continued. "But from here on it, no more nice guy stuff. You think you've seen trouble. Believe me you ain't seen nothing yet." Filling his hand with the front of her blouse, he twisted roughly until two of her buttons popped. Then with a stiff movement of his arm, he flung her halfway across the room.
Sue Bennett gasped, jumping instinctively between her boss and the woman. But he shoved her away as he took another step towards Karla. This time when he hit the weeping widow, his hand was clenched into a fist. It struck her right in the pit of her stomach and knocked the wind out of her. "Now make up your mind," he said. "You've got no choice."
He was raising his arm to strike her again when a powerful hand caught it and twisted it behind his back. It was Paul Sterling. Spinning his partner around, Sterling caught him on the jaw with his fist, dazing the stocky realtor. Before Stone had a chance to recover, he hit him again and again. Stone went down.
"I've been out of town doing some checking on you," Sterling said as Stone struggled vainly to gain his feet. "It seems you're wanted for stock fraud in Arizona. And the Nevada police are looking for you too. Something about a murder. I've alreayd spoken to the district attorney about extradition. The police are on their way right now.
Turning to Karla he said, "I'm so sorry for what happened. I should have known from the start what a low life he was. But you'll be safe now. Stone will be taken into custody. And from what I understand, they're going to throw the book at him." Stepping forward, he took her in his arms, soothing her with his touch.
She let her head fall to his shoulders and wept without shame, feeling secure for the first time in two years.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Nut Valley sun was shining brightly, warming the earth and breathing life into the thickly foliated almond orchards. But Karla and Paul had no interest in the weather. They had been lying in bed together for hours. For them nothing mattered but the inside of Karla's cozy bedroom.
What was left of Karla's almond crop had already been harvested and sold. Gretta, after coming home to testify against Stone's hired gorillas, had returned to Tucson where she planned to spend the rest of the summer with her aunt. There was nothing for Karla and Paul to do but stay in and make love. Which is what they had been doing for the past several weeks.
Stone, unwilling to take the rap alone, had named his accomplices, and all had been rounded up and taking into custody. It seemed certain that he would be in prison for the rest of his life, and most of the others with him. It gave Karla some satisfaction, whenever she thought of the things he had done to her and her daughter. At least he didn't win. At least he wouldn't get away with it.
Paul had stayed with her-a loving attendant and an attentive lover-ever since Stone's arrest three weeks ago. They had talked little about it, but he knew enough to realized that she had been through a terrible ordeal. In part, he felt responsible for it.
Now, as they lay side by side in her comfortable double bed, he slipped his arm around her protectively. "I love you, Karla." he said, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her passionately. "I love you as I've never loved before."
She sighed, returning the pressure of his kiss. "And I love you," she answered, her voice soft and musical. "I'm so glad that we found each other." As she spoke, his hand traveled slowly up over her lovely naked body, exploring the sensitive recesses of her most private regions. She moaned softly, her skin tingling to his touch.
Kissing her again, he cupped her mountainous breast in his hand, rolling the nipple gently between thumb and index finger. She felt it stiffen, and reached automatically for his cock. It too was becoming stiff and hard. Using his erect organ like a handle, she pulled him on top of her, guiding the rigid staff to the place of boiling heat which sizzled between her legs.
"There is something I want to say to you," he whispered softly as his tool slipped into her cunny.
Karla placed a finger to his lips. "Sss-shhh," she said. "Fuck me now. Then we'll talk."
Without another word, Paul lowered himself onto her, driving his prick into the warmth of her vaginal opening. She could feel his member sliding in, stretching the sensitive membranes as it filled her body with pleasure. Simultaneously, their bodies began moving, bringing their loins together and apart in the age old ballet of corporal love.
They were perfect for each other, their bodies fitting sublimely, one inside the other. She could feel her tissues tightening gently around the staff of his masculine member, milking and squeezing it to massage all of the nerves which lined the throbbing surface. Almost immediately, her fluids started to flow, buoying her on a cloud of pleasure; lifting her toward the pinnacle of heavenly orgasm.
Higher and higher she rose, each stroke bringing her closer to her climax. She could tell by the expression on his desire ridden face that he was bubbling under too. It seemed to take less time for them to cum each time they made love. The were growing together, their two bodies merging into one.
Within moments, the waves of ecstasy began cascading over both of them. They panted and they moaned, each expressing his excitement to the other; each expression of excitement heightening the pleasure which they mutually shared.
When it was over, they lay silent, rolling in each other's arms and gluing their lips hungrily together. At last, when their passion was totally spent, she looked deeply into his eyes and asked, "Now, what was it you wanted to say?"
Paul smiled, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "Just that I love you," he said. "And that I want to get married."
Karla held her breath for a moment before responding to his unasked question. She had known it was coming; had known that he was falling as deeply in love with her as she had fallen with him. But there was still one thing that stood in the way. "I love you too, Paul," she said. "And I do want to marry you. But you know how much this place means to me. And to Gretta."
"Of course," he answered thoughtfully. "And I'd never ask you to leave it. I guess deep down I've always wanted to live in the country too."
There were tears of gladness in her eyes as she kissed him warmly on the mouth. "Then, yes, darling," she murmured. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes." Excitement making her hands tremble, she reached for the phone. "Oh, I've got to call Gretta and tell her," he said.
But he stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist. "Call her afterwards," he whispered, pressing his already stiffening penis against her thigh. "First let's celebrate our betrothal."
