Through the generations writers of novels have employed the technique of using a microcosmic society to symbolize the society at large. It is to the credit of the medium of fiction that concisely and within a limited and bounded set, be it Camus' Oran or Solshenizyn's Siberian prison camp, a skilled author can create a reflection of a whole time, an entire nation or the world itself-a reflection that oft-times is clearer than the original itself. Roger Grey's brilliant new novel Teacher and the Team employs a small northern California community as the setting for this shocking expose of avarice and immorality. Any adept reader will see in the turmoil that takes place in this small football-oriented town, a prototype of the turmoil that has beleaguered the country at large during the wake of a disastrous war and the grips of a previously unheard of inflationary recession.
We would however caution readers not to look too far outside the book, too far beyond its characters and its setting, for greater symbolic meaning. The larger symbol is there, but we would hate for that to be allowed to obscure what must be one of the most moving stories of human conflict and emotions that has crossed our editorial desk in years. This saga of a young woman torn between lust and morality, trying to find her place as a liberated modern woman in a restricted and narrow stratum of society, stands on its own as a gripping minor masterpiece of suspense, heartbreak and finally, an ironic kind of redemption when the heroine finally comes to terms with herself. The greater politico-social allegory that can be read into it is a fringe benefit.
Once again Mr. Roger Grey has taken a naturalistic setting and a group of real and unromanticized characters to weave a poignant commentary on modern-day American life. We, The Publishers, are certain that this hard-hitting novel will be welcomed by the mature adult reader as an instructive and entertaining addition to his library of contemporary mores.
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CHAPTER ONE
They had eaten in an Italian restaurant in North Beach, then bar-hopped along Broadway until well past midnight. But behind all their apparent carefree gaiety was a tempering gloomy resignation, and the sexual tension hovered always in the air between them. And though they had agreed beforehand that that night would not be spent lamenting or arguing about tomorrow, Barbara Halperin sensed what her fianc' had on his mind when he suddenly steered her into the dark quiet little bar at the foot of Grant Avenue around the corner from the Broadway and Columbus taxi rack.
"Now we're gonna have one last one. For the road," Greg Benson said with a hint of sarcasm or bitterness as he felt the supple blonde's slight reluctance to go through the door. "And yes, we are going to talk about what's been on both our minds all evening. So don't argue with me."
Barbara sighed and shrugged her shoulders, offering no resistance as Greg guided her to the rear booth of the almost deserted lounge. He left her sitting there and went up to the bar to order a pair of gin and tonics, then returned with the drinks and slid into the booth beside her.
"Here, drink up," he said, pushing one of the glasses into her hand.
Fully aware that she'd already imbibed a dangerous amount of alcohol, Barbara nonetheless obediently drank, the effect hitting her almost immediately to cause a further lightening of her head. In spite of the dread of the debate she knew was about to come she was acutely aware of the masculine presence of the man she loved sitting beside her, and she realized that her present hyped emotional state had combined with the alcohol to make her even more vulnerable to the purely physical need that had been stirring all evening long through her virginal young body.
"All right," Greg said after they each had a stiff shot of gin. "For the last time forget this foolishness; marry me now, come with me overseas. I can even put off leaving for a week if you want to make it the big church wedding like we always planned."
"Greg
"Shhhhhhh.w He covered her lips with his hand to stifle her protest and doggedly continued: "Now you can't make that much money teaching school and with the money I'll be making over there we'll never need it anyway. And where I'm going I am going to need a wife, I mean you."
The sensuous blonde gritted her teeth slightly in exasperation, not sure how to respond. Of course they'd been over all this before and always reached the same impasse. Perhaps, she thought now with the alcohol weakening her resolve, Greg was even right. He was certainly right about the money. With the cost of living what it was today her salary as a high school teacher in Northern California would leave her very little extra after she supported herself, and as a petroleum engineer for an American oil company in the Persian Gulf Greg would be, monthly, putting a small fortune into the ' bank. During his service in Abu Dabhi literally all of his living expenses would be taken care of by the company from the subsistence allowance he received in addition to his salary, and Barbara knew that if she accompanied him, as his wife, those allowances would almost double.
"I mean, what's all this idealism anyway?" Greg prodded, looking almost angrily into her soft blue eyes.
"It's not idealism," Barbara said with another sigh. "Maybe its selfishness. I studied to become a teacher. I at least want to try out what I learned. I'm not ready yet to become a housewife, a dependent, in a foreign colony of American dependents. I'm just not ready and you've got to understand it."
"Oh hell, all right. I guess I do understand it," Greg conceded. "Score up another one for Women's Lib." He paused, lifted his glass and drained it. As his arm moved up around her neck and his hand lay softly down over her shoulder to the smooth bare skin of her generous upper breasts exposed by the low-cut cocktail gown she wore, the look on his face suddenly changed to the most intense and commanding stare Barbara thought she had ever seen. There was something almost hypnotic about the way he fixed her with his steel gray eyes, and though his hand felt light on her shoulder and upper breasts there was a strength and a firmness in the way that he held her that reminded her hers was definitely the weaker sex no matter what anyone might say about Women's Liberation. "All right," he repeated, still staring intently into her eyes. "I'll catch my plane for Beirut tomorrow. You catch your bus for Eureka next week. Tonight you're going home with me.
Before she had time to protest he kissed her, his lips covering hungrily and hard over hers, his tongue snaking forcefully into her mouth as his hand pressed down against the voluptuously pliant swell of one of her half-protected breasts. Little ripples of unwanted delight tingled through Barbara's urgently swelling nipple as Greg cupped his hand more firmly over her breast, the friction of the material of her flimsy brassiere on her sensitive little bud causing it to perk suddenly to full rigidity within the constricting cup. He reached around her back with his other hand, turning her to face him in the booth and pulling her body tightly against his own.
Then as suddenly as he'd begun the kiss he broke it off, drawing back to stare almost fiercely into her flushed and lovely face.
"Finish your drink. Let's go."
"But.. . , " Barbara began weakly, almost overpowered by the determination she perceived in his voice and in the way he was looking at her.
"Finish it."
Greg lifted his own drink and downed the rest of it in several rapid gulps and after a second or two Barbara followed suit. Then they were up and moving toward the door, Greg striding swiftly before her, Barbara half-following, half-being pulled along behind by the vise-like grip with which he held her slender wrist.
A taxi was just pulling to the curb as they reached the corner of Broadway and Columbus and, still dragging the speechless blonde behind him, Greg barged directly in front of an elderly tourist couple to open the rear door and virtually shove her into the back seat. Ignoring the shouts of protest from the tourists, he climbed in behind her and gave the driver the address of his Telegraph Hill apartment. Only when the light changed and the taxi pulled away did he consent to release Barbara's wrist.
The virginal young blonde's alcohol-muddled brain was a labyrinth of conflicting images and she didn't even know how to react to her fianc''s sudden brash seizure of the initiative. His tactics had changed so rapidly she still hadn't had time to adjust her own defense, yet something in his uncharacteristic aggression was stirring in her own body a longing and hunger that made it all the more difficult for her to cope with the brazen attack.
"Greg," Barbara managed, at last having found her voice. "You've got.. . you've got a long flight ahead of you tomorrow and if you don't get some sleep you'll be in terrible shape tomorrow night when you land in Lebanon."
"I get to Lebanon day after tomorrow morning," retorted Greg. "And I'm going to be screwed up for three days no matter what I do. Haven't you ever heard of jet-lag?"
"And . . . and it's just going to be a long night of insomnia and frustration if we try to sleep together," Barbara continued uncertainly. "You remember what it was like the last time we tried . . . the last time we tried that.. . . "
The slender blonde's voice almost faltered as she saw the look with which Greg reacted to that piece of pragmatism. Then a little gasp rose in her throat as his next remark made it clear to her and the taxi-driver as well what he really had in mind:
"Honey, I'm not talking about another night of frustration. You're going home with me now and you're going to bed with me to relieve the frustration we've both been needlessly subjecting ourselves to all this time."
Oh my God, she thought. He was really serious. And in her present emotional state of mind she even saw a logic in what he was proposing. She had long been convinced, on an intellectual level, that her vow to remain a virgin until marriage was outdated and even impractical. Greg was the man she was going to marry. Her having guarded her chastity through five-and-a-half years of college went against the present socially acceptable standard of behavior and even made her somewhat of a freak among her more liberated female contemporaries, this granting the fact that having finished high school at sixteen and completed her masters' studies by the time she was twenty-one made her younger than most of the graduate students at S. F. State with whom she'd associated. But she'd made a vow when she first left home for college and watched a series of roommates go through a series of usually disastrous and un-fulfilling deflorations. Always stubborn, she had stuck to her vow even after she'd fallen in love with Greg. Somehow she'd even led him to agree, in principle, to see things her way.
"I know what you're thinking," Greg said, still staring deeply into Barbara's troubled eyes. "And I want you to forget it."
"I can't forget it," the blonde whimpered. "Even if maybe I do want to, I can't."
"Yes you can," he insisted, his hand moving around her shoulder and again dropping down to cup over the sensitive half-revealed swell of her breast. "You're going to sleep with me tonight and we're going to make love just this once before I go."
"Greg!" Barbara gasped, noting the way the taxi driver was regarding her in the rear-view mirror. "He can hear us," she added in a whisper.
"Then don't argue and we won't have to talk," Greg answered, again covering her lips with his mouth and thrusting his hands over her breasts in an almost brutal and lustful kiss.
But now in spite of all her embarrassment and indecision Barbara found herself melting almost willingly into her lover's arms, her body squirming warmly against his until she could feel the tell-tale bulging erection that tented up his trousers pressing firm against her belly to only further impress upon her confused consciousness the seriousness of his obscene demand.
Then almost before she knew it the taxi had pulled to a halt outside Greg's apartment building. He paid the driver and they were out of the cab, entering the building, riding the elevator up. Greg opened the door and she walked, almost trance-like, before him into the cozy den. Without hesitation he guided her to the bedroom door, then pushed it open, pausing just outside, and turned her forcibly to face him.
"Now. Go in and undress and get into bed. I'll be there in five minutes."
Looking into his eyes, Barbara knew he wasn't kidding. It was all happening too fast for her. He was ordering her around like she was some kind of harem girl and he wasn't even giving her the option of saying no. But in spite of the little surges of yearning coursing through her breasts and down between her thighs she still felt compelled to resist. She couldn't give in just like this, after all the frustration she'd put herself and Greg through during a year of increasingly heavy petting since they'd first started going out together.
"Greg," she began after a pause, her voice quivering with her own building lust. "We can't. Not like this. We just can't."
Greg's voice was remarkably calm and self-assured as he answered steadily, "We can and we're going to. I'm not going off to the Persian Gulf and leave you here saving it for me for a whole year. Because if I do leave you . . . like this . . . I won't trust it being here when I get back."
"Greg!"
"Now go on in and get undressed."
"But . . . we've already waited all this time."
"I know we've waited all this time. And Barbara, that waiting was just sheer fucking nonsense. We're not waiting any longer."
Almost mortified by the vulgar language he'd used right in front of her, Barbara didn't resist as he pushed her backward through the door. But in spite of her shock the coarse image the word prompted to dart through her mind only increased her weirdly building excitement, and she was completely at a loss for what to say or do as Greg suddenly turned and walked away.
Her heart beating rapidly, Barbara waited just inside the door and watched Greg cross to the liquor cabinet and pour himself a drink. She waited for him to turn and look at her again but he merely stood with his back to her, drinking in silence.
At last she retreated into the room and flicked on the nightstand lamp, then stood staring silently at herself in the mirror, still not certain what to do. But one thing she did know: Greg was dead serious in his plan to seduce and deflower her tonight. He was so bent on accomplishing his purpose that she didn't dare imagine what he would do if she tried to say no. And she knew that deep down inside she couldn't blame him for the way he felt. He was perfectly right, this day and age, in demanding that she submit to him before they embarked on this long year of separation.
But it was still almost without conscious thought that the sensuous young blonde reached up and undid the zipper down the back of her low-cut cocktail dress, the upper half of the sexy garment falling away suddenly to completely reveal the lush upstanding swells of her breasts. She gave a little wriggle of her hips as she shed the dress down off the flare of her buttocks and her long slender thighs. Then it dropped to the floor at her ankles, leaving her naked except for her brassiere and her flimsily clinging little bikini panties.
Her breath coming in low strained gasps, Barbara gazed through narrowed eyes at the reflection of her sensuously exposed body in the three-quarter length dresser mirror. Her supple frame bore not an inch of superfluous flesh. Her skin was creamy smooth, golden-bronze tanned except for the thin bikini-bottom outline of white and the fainter lightening across the rose-tipped swells of her high, tautly upstanding breasts standing out proud and firm beneath her gently sloping shoulders as she reached back and unsnapped her brassiere, releasing her full breasts. Her legs were long and shapely, her thighs tapered, her waist narrow and her buttocks tightly rounded and firm. The soft light-brown triangle of pubic hair nestled down several inches below the neat little hole of her navel was sparse and silken as down.
Her eyes fixed on her forbidden little vee of hair, as she slowly rolled her bikini panties down off her hips, and she felt more acutely aware of her inviting sexuality than she had been in years. Perhaps it was immodest for her to think it but she sensed that she had a body that was made for making love. And now she was so excited she could hardly stand it, though she still hadn't consciously come to terms with the final drastic decision she knew in the back of her mind was going to be forced on her very soon. She still hadn't admitted to herself that she was going to let Greg actually take her carefully guarded virginity. She had merely obeyed his command that she come into his bedroom and strip naked and wait for him. That still didn't mean she was really going to let him do it. After all, he had seen and touched and held her nearly naked body before, though even now the very thought of submitting to that exquisite and salacious teasing kind of fore-play caused her skin to prickle with puritanical indignation.
Then Barbara was startled from her reverie by a sudden loud heaving of breath and she looked up wide-eyed to see Greg standing in the door, staring open mouthed at her naked and golden body.
"God, honey," he said in a voice slightly slurred by alcohol. "You are so beautiful, I could . . . "
He didn't finish the sentence but as she stood feeling completely vulnerable and exposed before his leering stare Barbara's passionand alcohol-altered mind raced through a shocking montage of lurid images of the things he might have said he could do to her. My God, never had he looked at her like this before, not even the other time she had consented to strip nearly naked and sleep with him in his bed. His expression reflected a sheer animal lust, and she felt a flutter of fear and excitement race through her belly as she realized that, with the amount he'd had to drink, he probably wouldn't give in to her wishes even if she tried to absolutely refuse the demand he'd made for her to offer up her virginal body to him tonight.
Barbara could only stare in mingled apprehension and fright as Greg stalked toward her, and before she could bring herself to move he was on her, gathering her strongly into his arms and pulling her vulnerable nakedness hungrily to his chest. He kissed her with brutal animal fury, breathing gustily into her open mouth, his hands crushing over the sensitively exposed skin of her back as he held her limp and helpless in his powerful grasp.
There was a hollowness in the pit of Barbara's stomach and she didn't find the strength to resist even as she felt herself being forced backward toward the bed. She felt so warm and safe in his arms, her breasts such a perfect fit against his muscular chest, her thighs so soft against his. Even her stomach seemed contoured to the hard-throbbing bulge looming up in his trousers to prod threateningly against the mound of her cunt. It was if her body were somehow one with his, and she yielded without struggle as he pushed her down into a prone position on her back on the top of the bed. Then her eyes widened slightly as he got to his own feet and, his eyes never leaving her open spread-eagled nakedness, kicked off his shoes and began hurriedly tearing at his trousers and shirt.
Barbara lay mesmerized in a dreamy paralytic lassitude as her determined fianc' stripped off his clothes. Her eyes roved with unwilling hunger over his broad square shoulders and rippling pectorals, her gaze descending compulsively lower as he undid his belt and unzipped his trousers. Then a spontaneous little gasp rose in her throat as in one swift motion he jerked his trousers and jockey shorts down off his hips and suddenly the fully erected shaft of his cock burst freely into view, pulsing as though with a feverish excitement of its own, the shaft, a hardened blood-pumped muscle, the head, a menacingly swollen purple.
She had seen it before, and once when they were playing around she'd even consented to use her hand to relieve his building lust. But she had never seen it looking like this. My God, it appeared big and hard as a horse's penis and Barbara shuddered at the very thought of even trying to take that enormous rod of flesh up into the tight sensitive virginal opening between her own legs. Then somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that the only reason Greg's cock must look so much bigger and so much more menacing than it ever had before was the fact that she actually was thinking about letting him use it to penetrate her virgin pussy, and with that realization came the final shattering awareness of the dangerous state to which her situation had deteriorated.
But before she could move, her lover and fianc' was on top of her, now naked also, his hands exploring hungrily over her helplessly exposed body, mauling and bruising her breasts as though he wanted to punish them for their loveliness, his strong body pressing down heavily on hers to pin her abjectly beneath him.
"No Greg," Barbara whimpered, her sudden fear giving her the will to resist where moral considerations had already almost failed.
But it was as though she had not even spoken and he went on mauling her like a sex-starved animal, his lips sucking hungrily at the desire swollen buds of her breasts, his hands clawing at her tingling goose-bumped flesh, raking down over her ribs and the smoothness of her belly, down, down between her thighs into her soft thin curls of cunt-hair until suddenly she went stiff from the sheer raw sensation as his fingers trailed along the already lewdly moistened slit of her cunt, starting to part and spread her hair-lined lips.
"Oh God," Barbara groaned from the illicit electric stirrings of excitement the lewd titillation sent surging through the nakedness of her open loins. In a half-hearted attempt at self-defense she tried to wriggle from beneath him and, sensing her continued reluctance, Greg only dropped his body even more heavily down upon her. At the same time he used his knees to pry her thighs wider apart and as he dropped between them she suddenly felt the surging hardness of the throbbing shaft of his penis prodding threateningly right up between her legs.
The pinioned blonde's whole nakedly writhing body jerked in a sudden fearful spasm and a low moan spewed from her lips as she ground her buttocks down into the bed in an effort to escape the imminent rape of her secret genitals. She flailed her head from side to side, her eyes wide with terror as Greg levered further up on her body, at the same time working his outstretched middle finger even deeper up into the delicately moist folds of her little pussy entrance.
"No, please no. You can't do it to me. Not like this. You can't rape me Greg! This is me, remember? Barbara!"
Then for the briefest instant the aroused and frightened blonde experienced a mingling of relief and simultaneous bitter disappointment as the pressure against her skewered genitals suddenly ceased, as Greg raised his head up from between her naked breasts and lifted himself slightly to take some of the weight off her pinioned flesh. But she realized that her curious disappointment at the prospect of escape must have shown in her face, for suddenly Greg grinned almost cruelly, dropping his body down again on hers and lunging forward to prod his turgid penis even farther up between her thighs, an almost vicious smile twisting his lips as he spoke:
"It's not really rape, is it baby? When you're my fianc' and you came with me here of your own free will and stripped yourself naked in my bedroom. And don't worry, I hadn't forgotten who you were. I know it's you, and that's why I'm going to do it."
Then again he dropped his face to her naked breasts, cupping one of them in his hand to guide her tinglingly erected nipple between his eagerly sucking lips, biting down on it so hard she cried out in a startled little gasp.
"Oh please," Barbara whimpered, still feeling a compulsion to fight back though she knew she'd already given away the fact that she wanted him to continue every bit as much as he did. Her whole body was crying out with inflamed and surging need and even in her half-conscious delirium she knew that she wanted Greg to continue in spite of all her protest, wanted him to force her so that finally it would be done and over with and afterwards, if she survived the unnatural and seemingly impossible penetration that was to come, she could perhaps somehow console herself with the rationalization that her breaking of her vow to herself had been his fault rather than hers.
Then her eyes closed as he fixed his lips over her other tingling little nipple to begin a now gentle sucking pressure. At the same moment his hand slipped from her cunt, coursing up over the throbbing bud of her clitoris, and a moment later he slipped downward, sliding down the length of her still forcibly parted thighs, his tongue dipping teasingly into her sensitive little navel before leaving that little aperture to trail suddenly lower.
Now once more Barbara's eyes opened wide with shock and moral indignation as she realized what Greg intended to do. This was much more than she was prepared to be forced to submit to but her surprise and her paralyzing lust left her incapable of moving to put up a defense as Greg's head disappeared suddenly right down between her thighs.
"Nooooooh," the lust-incited blonde virgin wailed in unconvincing protest as Greg's thumbs pressed outward against the softly hair-lined lips of her cunt and she felt the cool air wash teasingly up into her chaste, desire-burning orifice. Then a low gasp escaped from deep in her chest as his breath danced through the sensitive golden curls of hair and the tip of his tongue flicked into sudden exquisite contact with the hard-pulsing bud of her clitoris. Then, spreading her moistened pussy even wider open to his leering gaze, he flicked his tongue lizard-like straight up into her moist opening, burrowing it like a snake right up into her dilated vaginal passage.
"Oooooooh Jesus," the spread-eagled young woman wailed in response to the sudden wet contact. She'd never felt anything like this in her life and she thought she would die from the sheer maddening sensation as his tongue burrowed deeper up into the inner warm furrow of her loins. Then, unable to contain herself, she reached down, running her fingers into his curly dark hair to pull his face even tighter to her loins as she lunged her buttocks up from the bed in a sudden humping motion. Her mind almost blanked out as his lewd oral stimulation continued, and then a moan of disappointment rose to her lips as suddenly it ended and Greg was again sliding upward over her body.
Barbara's aroused cunt was left tingling with the fire of unsatiated lust and now she made not the slightest move to resist as Greg seized the heated hardness of his cock, guiding it up between her thighs until suddenly his spongy cock-head pressed against the warm entrance to her now completely lubricated and readied vagina. At the same time he reached with both hands to seize her wrists, pinioning them tightly above her head to further arch and part her breasts. An instant later she heard him groan and with a sudden mighty lunge he rammed the bloated head of his cock right up into the elastically tight opening of her vagina.
"Aaaaagggghhhhh!" Barbara cried out as though a spread-eagled prisoner at the beginning of a session of torture. The sudden sharp stabbing pain snapped her completely back to reality and she tossed and thrashed with all her strength as the searing penetration continued, his swollen cock-head ramming slowly deeper and deeper, pushing up into her cunt with a viciously penetrating fury, brutally forcing the soft walls of her vagina in pressured waves before it. There was no stopping him. Her hymen tore like tissue with a brilliance of fire-white pain, and she cringed beneath him as she felt her vagina completely filled, his hard-throbbing cock sunk up into her virginal depths to the hilt, enclosed in the warm moist sheath of her previously unviolated cunt like a fiery lance driven deep up into her entrails.
"Oh God," the cringing blonde wailed in shame and agony, her whole body aflame from the brutal laceration. Yet she knew that at least the worst was over, and for a moment Greg lay completely still up in her, as if considering a reprieve. In spite of her bitterness at being so brutally taken she was still grateful for this little breadcrumb of mercy and she didn't resist as Greg again covered her mouth with his, snaking his tongue hungrily between her half-gritted teeth. Then she tensed as he flexed his penis to ram it even deeper up into her quivering loins, and a moment later he began to move.
Mortified by her continued pain and fear, Barbara lay almost still, her body limp as Greg slowly drew his penis out of her wounded, blood-moistened cunt and then pistoned it slowly inward again. She felt completely lacerated and opened, injured beyond all repair, and she thought she would die if she ever had to submit to anything like this again. She could still feel the stabbing pain at his first brutal penetration, and for a moment that pain completely seized her mind. It was only minutes later, as Greg's humping movements increased and she found her own body slowly and sensuously undulating in response, that she realized the pain was not nearly as acute as before. It was there, yes, a lingering gnawing presence that could not be denied. But it was tempered by something else, the warmth of his body on hers, the caress of his hands on her breasts and tingling nipples, and most of all that slow ceaseless pumping back and forth in and out of her loins that was a raw, maddening stimulation that would not stop, and his pubic area kept rubbing against her throbbing little clitoral bud.
"Oh!" Barbara gasped, hardly able to comprehend what was happening to her as she suddenly began to slither her cunt up and down on his still ruthlessly violating shaft of flesh embedded up between her thighs. My God, as much as it hurt it almost felt good and her body had been responding even if her mind was repelled. But most important of all was the fact that it was done. She was a virgin no longer, and it wasn't even her fault. She had been raped, but the rape had been committed by the man she loved, and with the increasingly exhilarating sensation his continued assault of her helpless little genitals inspired to surge over her goose bumped flesh, she could only vow that after this she would love him all the more. My God, why had they waited so long? This was wonderful! It was exquisite! It was like nothing she'd ever known, and with a sudden squeal of delight she suddenly thrust her face up from the bed, shoving her lips against Greg's, opening her mouth wide to suck his tongue deep down in her throat.
"Oh yes," she moaned almost straight into his mouth. "Yes! I love it. Fuck me, Greg. Fuck me!"
That was more than Greg could stand. It had been weeks since he'd been out with a woman other than Barbara and his own near-rape of her gorgeous body had pushed him to the brink of losing all control. Now her surrender after the way she had fought him and screamed and cried in protest gave him a sense of masculine triumph that was too much to contain. He had asserted himself and he had been victorious and even as he reveled in his conquest and began to pump and buck without further restraint, racking Barbara's now eagerly responding young body with a series of mad staccato lunges, his semen was almost boiling over in his balls.
"Oh yes, fuck me, fuck me," Barbara chanted in wanton delirium as the rhythmic pounding of his hard cock-shaft over the little bud of her clitoris reached a frenzy.
And Greg was fucking her, but it wouldn't go on for long. His sperm-swollen balls felt as if they were ballooning out of his scrotum and he let himself go completely as the surging liquid of his cum began its mad swift dance up the pistoning shaft of his cock. The lust-swollen head of his penis pulsed deep up inside Barbara's sex-ravished cunt as he rammed in to maximum depth, and his searing semen spurted forth like an erupting geyser from the slitted little glans at the tip.
Greg continued to hammer up and down into Barbara's spasming, eagerly clutching pussy, racking her body with the fury of his successively violent lunges until he'd pumped every drop of his white hot cum up into her torn virginal cunt. She didn't even realize what was happening until moments it was over. Then, as she continued to grind back against his pubic mound, her cunt hungrily sucking and milking at the deflating shaft of his cock, he collapsed heavily, almost as though in sleep upon her.
But the frustration she experienced was balanced somewhat by her physical relief at the realization that her ordeal was over, and as she sighed out deeply she wrapped her arms still lovingly about his back to hold him tightly to her, wondering if she should be glad or sorry about what he'd forced her to do.
Greg lay still on her for a moment longer. Then he withdrew and rolled on his back. He turned to face her, kissed her, drew back to look, smiling, into her eyes.
"See?" he said. "See why I wanted to do that? Now we will be together. Always. Now you have to go to the Gulf with me."
Barbara hesitated but a moment, a fluttering of excitement coursing anew through her breasts as she considered that alternative under the light of this new development in their relationship. But it took her only that moment to make her decision, and when she spoke it was with a conviction that came from the heart.
"No Greg. I'm not going to follow you to the Persian Gulf just because you made love to me, even if we should have done it long ago. I'm still going to do what I set out to do. I'm going to make a life for myself, for this one year at least."
Greg sat up abruptly in bed, staring down wide-eyed at the lushly naked body he'd just so ruthlessly violated. "But how.. . after that . . . how can you let me go away alone? I mean, the way you've always felt.. . your . . . your vow?"
"I don't know," she answered honestly, a lump welling in her throat as she got the first inkling of something she still wouldn't have dared to verbalize in her mind. "But I do know that you brought me up here with the idea of seducing me or raping me or maybe a little of both so that I would feel obliged to forget my own career and go away with you. And I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to abandon everything I've studied for just because you've.. . because you've fucked me.. . . And that's that."
CHAPTER TWO
Avenue of the Giants is a long stretch of the San Francisco-Eureka Freeway, beginning several hours driving time north of the Bay City, on which the redwood trees visible from the road have never been timbered. Thousands of years old and hundreds of feet high, they appear an endless dense forest of giant wooden towers that, in their enormity and their abundance, defy the imagination of modern man. The trunks of the older trees have a diameter at the base of some twenty or thirty feet; the highway running through them is like a dark, shaded and endless-seeming tunnel.
Though she'd lived most of her life in the San Francisco area Barbara had never taken this drive north before and she was enthralled as she peered out the window of the speeding Greyhound. She felt as if she had entered a magic forest and the sheer beauty of the giant phalli of the trees made her feel a small and insignificant creature in the universe. But still, she thought, the most astonishing thing about this beautiful and unique little piece of land could only be appreciated if one were aware of the fact that it was a freak of nature that had occurred. This was Northern California in its natural state, one of the few places that still remained untouched, unravished, by man.
But in all her exhilaration her joy at the experience of visiting this little stronghold of nature was tempered by the memory and the lingering guilt that had obsessed both her waking hours and dreams during the week that had elapsed since Greg had left for the Middle East.
That night lying in his arms she'd slept hardly a wink. After her assertion that she was not going to leave with him he had become violently angry. They had argued, at last made-up. Greg had slept fitfully for a while, snoring loudly, while Barbara lay awake staring up wide-eyed into the dark. It was only after her stubborn insistence that she was not going to change her mind that Greg had finally staggered, enraged, onto his plane and gone. Standing in the airport lounge with tears streaming down her face, Barbara had faced the fact she'd only sensed, unverbalized, the night before: She and Greg would never be married. And in her remorseful self-flagellating state it seemed to her that was a most poetic bit of justice. She had broken her vow and given her body to the man she loved; in doing so, she had lost him.
Since that bitter morning her mood had hardly improved, though oddly it was not her feeling that, though their engagement still hadn't officially been terminated, she had relinquished her dream of someday being Greg's wife that bothered her most. It was something else, something she still couldn't quite pin down. Of course she was guilty and angry with herself for having given in to temptation, and yet she couldn't deny the exquisite little thrills that coursed through her loins and breasts every time she thought of that wonderful/terrible sensation she had derived from her cruel rape by her fianc'.
Every time she thought of it she experienced a certain carnal excitement that now filled her with shame; it was a strange blend of revulsion and desire. And, she supposed now with reflection, what really troubled her was the future. In spite of all her remorse, she knew that her appetite had only been whetted. What she still didn't know was how she could live with the memory of what she had experienced without the promise she would soon experience it again.
But in spite of the troubles that had occupied her the last week Barbara had at least managed to function and she had the feeling now that, even if she did not know what the future held, it had at least begun. She was moving into the next phase of her life and this troubling week had been a time of limbo between the new phase and the phase that had just passed away. She felt in a sense that she was starting over, alone. Within another few hours she would be arriving in Hatfieldville, the small farming and logging town where she would take her first English teaching post. She would be meeting with her superior, Superintendent Johnson; she would move into the small duplex apartment she'd rented by phone, sight-unseen; and tomorrow she would teach her first classes of English Grammar and American Literature.
Barbara spent the last two hours of the trip trying to concentrate on pragmatic matters that would keep her mind off her guilt and her lingering excitement over the salacious act of sexual intercourse she had performed the night before Greg left. For a few minutes she even dozed off to sleep, and though it was but the briefest nap, it did wonders toward refreshing her. By the time the Greyhound pulled up before the curio shop that served as the Hatfieldville bus station, her mood had become almost optimistic.
Clad in a modest white lace blouse and navy blue skirt that served to accent the classic beauty of her face rather than the mischievous sexuality of her supple young body, Barbara descended into the warm afternoon sunlight and moved around to the side of the bus where the driver unloaded her two heavy bags. He was kind enough to carry the largest of them into the shop for her, where she explained to an elderly woman behind the cash desk that she had rented the duplex apartment that belonged to a Mr. Gladstone.
"You're the new English teacher then," the woman asked, looking Barbara over curiously.
"That's right," the beautiful young blonde said with a smile.
She was given directions to the Gladstone residence. Then the gray-headed woman hesitated, turned toward the back of the store and called: "Hey Sonny, come up here for a minute, would you."
From behind a display of redwood curios a cute blond-headed teenager appeared. He looked at first annoyed, then on seeing Barbara he stopped dead in his tracks, gaping at he with open-mouthed surprise, his eyes descending slowly down the length of her modestly clad body. Feeling half-embarrassed, half-pleased, Barbara allowed herself to be subjected to the young boy's eager scrutiny. Then he was startled from astonishment to red-faced embarrassment by the shop owner's sharp exclamation:
"Sonny! Don't stare at the lady like that. This is the new English teacher, Miss . . . ? "
"Halperin. Barbara Halperin."
"Miss Halperin. You take her biggest bag there and walk her over to Ernest's place."
"Yes Ma'am," the youngster nodded. He swallowed, cast another quick furtive glance at Barbara, and came forward and took the larger of her two suitcases.
Barbara picked up the other and followed him out the door to the street, where the Greyhound was just pulling away. There she paused, gazing around for her first real look at the town. She'd noted on the sign at the city limits that the population, as of the last census, was something just over seven thousand. She doubted from the looks of the place that it had grown much since then. There were several blocks of small businesses, grocery stores, real estate and insurance offices, a pharmacy, a number of bars; beyond that in either direction there were a few more blocks of residential area, plus a couple of service stations. It was not, she had to admit, an especially inspiring place to think of living for the next nine months, but then she hadn't come here looking for inspiration. She'd come here to work, to teach, and at least there was the consolation of the fresh clean air, the sunshine, and the redwoods spread over the low hills that surrounded the community in almost every direction.
Barbara sighed and again lifted her bag, which she'd set down momentarily. Out of the corner of her eye she noted that the teenager, Sonny as the woman in the shop had called him, was staring at her again. But when she turned toward him he again looked embarrassedly away. They walked silently to the corner, then turned at the first side street down to the left. Barbara was acutely aware of the curious interest in her body the boy had displayed, and she realized for the first time that might be a problem she would encounter in dealing with her male students that she hadn't even anticipated. She could admit without being immodest that she was probably younger and more attractive than the run of the mill high school teacher, and she would be teaching kids just at the age where they were beginning to be curious about sex. It was strange, Barbara thought to herself. A week and a half ago this consideration would have completely eluded her.
"I guess you'll probably be in some of my classes won't you . . . Sonny?" Barbara asked to break the silence.
"I think so. I'm a sophomore."
"Then I'll have you in grammar and composition."
"Yeah, right."
They walked a block and a half farther in silence. Up ahead Barbara noted a one-story duplex, plain, white-painted, but not unpleasant looking, that she presumed would be the place she had rented. Then, again becoming aware out of the corner of her eye that Sonny was literally gawking at her, she turned suddenly toward him with a reserved and courageous smile, and as he again blushed she asked softly:
"What's the matter, Sonny?"
"I dunno," the kid muttered, casting his gaze toward the ground.
"You don't have to be so nervous, I'm not going to bite you."
"That wasn't what I was worried about."
"Then what were you worried about?"
"I wasn't worried, I was just thinking." He paused, then continued: "I was just thinking about Miss Priddy, the English teacher last year."
"And what about her?" Barbara coaxed. "She wasn't nearly as good looking as you are."
"Oh Sonny, I certainly wouldn't know about that."
"I was just thinking what it would have been like if it had been you . . . who.. . . "
"Who what?"
"Who did all that."
"All what?" Barbara asked.
"See, Miss Priddy got herself run out of town. She . . . almost the whole football team . . . uh.. . . "
Barbara stopped, turning to stare with genuine concern and curiosity down at the cute youngster. But his voice had trailed off and he was staring intently up the street. Turning to follow his gaze the young blonde saw a blue, customized pick-up truck barreling full-speed toward them. As it drew closer she distinguished the four boys loaded into the cab. She started at the sudden loud blaring of the horn, and as the vehicle thundered by her ears picked up only vague sketches of a couple of obscene remarks that were shouted at them through the window. Then the driver hit the brakes, the vehicle skidded to a halt some paces back up the street. He put it into reverse and, tires squealing, backed up to where they were. Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment, Barbara faced the eager, leering gazes of the four boys who stared out of the cab.
"Hey Sonny," the driver, a curly headed teenager who looked older, or at least more mature than her young companion, called through the window. "Who's that hot lookin' little piece you got there?"
"I bet that's the new teacher who's gonna be living in old Gladstone's duplex," another boy put forth.
"An' I bet she can teach us some things we couldda never learned from Miss Priddy," a third youngster added.
"What's the matter, Sonny?" the driver asked. "Forget how to talk?"
Barbara realized Sonny was gazing desperately at her for some sign as to how to react. "Say nothing to them," she whispered through gritted teeth, lifting her suitcase, which she'd again set down, and continuing swiftly down the sidewalk. "That must be Mr. Gladstone's duplex there?" she added stiffly as Sonny came back abreast of her. Then she sighed and again put the suitcase down as she heard the pick-up pull away, the echo of several final obscene catcalls almost lost in the roar of the engine. "Now who was that?"
"The Four Horsemen," Sonny said bitterly.
"The Four Horsemen?" The words beat like drums in her mind. Death. Incest. Pestilence. Famine. But that wasn't right. Where on earth did she get incest? And what was he talking about. "Of the Apocalypse?"
"No. Notre Dame. Those were the first Four Horsemen. And these guys are the backfield here at Hatfieldville High. But that's what they call them in the papers.
They're unstoppable---If you don't play football here in Hatfieldville," Sonny added after a brief hesitation, "then you're nobody." He paused again. "I'm just the assistant trainer. The guys are always giving me crap. Oh, sorry."
Looking at the youngster, Barbara realized he was talking about something he felt very deeply, something which hurt him very deeply. And she felt the almost motherly compulsion to say something consoling. "But, the assistant trainer must be very important to a good football team. I mean, that's almost like the coach, isn't it."
"The assistant trainer is only the water boy," Sonny said dryly, lifting the heavier suitcase and stalking away ahead of her just as a skinny old man in khakis and a straw hat emerged from the large old house next to the duplex.
* * *
By five-thirty that afternoon Barbara was unpacked and comfortably settled into her new place. Though by no means luxurious, the small four-room house was certainly adequate to her needs. Considering that the other half of the duplex was empty and considering that for the last six years of her life she'd lived constantly with girl roommates, she looked forward to enjoying a privacy and independence she'd never really known. Ernest Gladstone was a widower, a nice enough old country man who talked as though he might well have come from the mountains of Tennessee, and she was sure she would have nothing to worry about from him. The only thing that did worry her now was the incident with the boys in the pick-up truck which had triggered that almost surreal thought process in her mind in which some still unrecalled evil of man had become incest and in which Notre Dame (Our Lady if you translated it) had become the Apocalypse, or vice versa, depending on the view from which it was perceived. And of course she was curious and slightly ill at ease about Sonny's reference to her predecessor, Miss Priddy, and something that had happened with the football team that had gotten her run out of town.
That little mystery she wanted to clear up right away, and after her unpacking was completed and she washed her face and brushed her long golden hair and made sure her blouse and skirt still looked tidy and not excessively wrinkled from her trip, she took only a few brief moments to lounge on the couch in her cozy little living room before going out. She found Mr. Gladstone sitting on his front porch smoking a pipe, told him she was quite happy with the place and asked him directions to the school, which he assured her was within easy walking distance.
"In fact, 'bout any place you want to get to here 'n Hatfieldville, from wherever you happen to be when you start, 's gonna be easy walkin' distance for a healthy young gal like yourself."
"And . . . do you suppose I'll be able to find Superintendent Johnson there this time of the afternoon."
"Let's see.. . . " He pondered the question as though seeking a mathematical equation. "They finished football camp yesterday so today's just a short work-out with no pads. Shouldda finished up a few minutes ago. You'll catch Coach Johnson in the dressin' room, back door of the gymnasium. That's the big red-brick building behind the school."
"Thank you very much," Barbara said as she started away, slightly troubled at the thought of having to seek out the Superintendent at the dressing room of the football team, which included those dreadful "four horsemen". Nor was she particularly encouraged to learn that the man who would be her superior for the next nine months was known here in town not as Superintendent Johnson but as Coach Johnson. It occurred to her that the football coach in a small school like this would probably be the man his team members were most likely to emulate, and if the superintendent of Hatfieldville High was the model for the kind of behavior she'd witnessed from several of his players earlier this afternoon, then the situation with which she found herself confronted was a sorry one indeed.
Following the directions old Mr. Gladstone had given her Barbara crossed the main street, acutely conscious of the lecherous stares of a group of loggers standing outside the nearest bar, then took the opposite side street the four blocks to the two one-story sand-colored buildings joined by an arcade, which she recognized from her new landlord's description as the grade school and high school respectively. She passed through the arcade alongside a hidden structure, situated behind the arcade and between the two school buildings, which appeared to be an auditorium. Behind this she recognized the big red-brick gymnasium. The front door was indeed closed; she moved alongside it toward the back. She was halfway there when the boy she'd seen driving the pick-up before came around the corner, flanked by a tall athletic looking man with receding blond hair and broad muscled shoulders.
"Hey Coach," the boy said, his eyes fixing on Barbara's slender body. "That's the new teach we saw with Sonny this afternoon."
Wavering slightly under the tall man's interested scrutiny, Barbara waited where she was as he and the leering youngster walked toward her. Then the man turned and said something to the boy, who frowned, nodded, then turned and went back in the direction he had come.
Barbara remained in her place as the man came toward her, alternately studying her face and her body and looking slightly as if he did not like, or did not approve, of what he saw. Or maybe, she tried to tell herself, that was just her own paranoia. And in any event, she wasn't going to let this overgrown college boy, which was exactly what the man looked like in spite of the fact that he was obviously in his forties, get the best of her right away. When he was upon her she smiled warmly and extended her hand:
"I'm Barbara Halperin. I presume you must be Superintendent Johnson."
"Call me Coach," the superintendent said, a faint smile now flickering on his lips. "I'm . . . uh . . . slightly surprised to . . . "
"To what, Coach?" Barbara asked, her hand still resting in his.
"I'll explain. Come on. We'll got to my office to talk."
Coach Johnson's office, situated just inside the high school building, looked more like the trophy room of a sports club. There was a case full of bronze statuettes, footballs, both bronze and real, ribbons, plaques and medallions. The walls were lined with photographs of teenager's posing in uniform or actually playing. There were also several conference pennants and the picture was completed by a photograph of the coach himself, looking twenty years younger but hardly more fit then he looked today, in a college uniform she recognized as her own alma mater San Francisco State's. There was not, she noticed, a book to be seen in the place.
"Well, Miss.. . Halperin. Would you have a seat," the coach asked, taking his own place behind his desk.
Barbara sat down and carefully smoothed her skirt over her slender shapely thighs. "And what did you say you were surprised about?" she asked, fixing another fabricated smile on her face.
The coach looked at her thoughtfully. "Frankly, you're a very good-looking young woman." Barbara maintained her smile, saying nothing. "Much better looking than I had expected. I suppose, from your record-high school graduation at sixteen, scholarship, B.A. in three and a half years and masters in another year and a half-I had surmised you would be somewhat of a female egghead." He chuckled. "I was thinking of someone pale and skinny with short hair and thick goggle-eye glasses. Instead.. . . "
Barbara crossed her legs. "I'm sorry if I disappoint you Superintendent . . . Coach Johnson. But I can assure you that if I'm not quite as . . . studious looking as you had expected it will not interfere with my abilities to teach the subjects I've specialized in. At least, I trust not."
"I'm sure you're very capable. It's not that. I just hope your . . . how should I say . . . sex appeal won't present a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Barbara asked matter-of-factly, then when the coach didn't reply she immediately added: "Sonny . . . whatever his name is . . . made some reference to a Miss Priddy. Could that be what you were referring to."
"Yes . . . uh . . . I'm afraid it is."
"Perhaps you could fill me in."
"Miss Priddy . . . or perhaps I should explain first: I believe the purpose of a high school education is to teach and to invest the young people who attend it with a certain moral fiber. As you may have noticed, or heard, Hatfieldville High places a particular emphasis on athletics, and-"
"I have noticed," Barbara couldn't resist interrupting. "In fact, I almost have the feeling I'm in an athletic club instead of an institute of learning."
"What do you mean by that?" the coach said with a scowl.
"I meant nothing more than exactly what I said. It was simply an observation. But, about that former teacher, you were saying . . . ? "
"Dorothy Priddy was not possessed of the moral standards to fit her for a teaching position here. To make a long story short, she seduced several of the male students, members of the football team in fact."
"Your 'Four Horsemen'? "
Coach Johnson scowled again. "She did it, the last time at least, the night before an important game. As a result of their exhaustion, the boys did not perform up to par and we almost lost that game because of her. Now perhaps you can see what I'm getting at?"
"If you think I'm going to start seducing your football players for the purpose of ruining your team, or for any other purpose, then I can assure you, you are wrong. I came here to teach, not serve in a pep squad and certainly not to do anything like that and I resent the implication you . . . you . . . "
"I meant to imply nothing like that. I meant only that boys will be boys. Because of the immorality of one of the women teachers to whom their education and training was entrusted, they have had an . . . experience that can only challenge them to try again if they think-and mark you I said think, even if they are entirely mistaken-that the opportunity is being presented to them. I simply wanted to warn you to be especially on your guard not to be anything that might give any of my boys the wrong idea. And keep in mind that you are a very much more inviting conquest than Dorothy was. There will be overtures, and I'm afraid that after everything that has happened that is only natural.
"I might add, in summing up, that I do not mean to imply that our male students here are bad, I mean, hoodlums or anything. They are just good healthy boys. I want to see that they grow up to be good healthy men. That is why in addition to my duties as coach and superintendent here I also teach a Sunday School class at the local church, and I try to be a friend, to understand them and hold their confidence. If it weren't for that relationship I've established with boys like Bobby Lane, my quarterback, who you saw with me a few moments ago, Dorothy Priddy might still be on our faculty, corrupting our youth."
"Then you are to be congratulated I'm sure," Barbara said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She thought briefly about referring to this afternoon's incident, then decided to let it drop. She would put the "Four Horsemen" in their place without the intervention of this pious old windbag.
Shortly afterwards the interview was terminated. Barbara left the school with the most distinct impression that she and Coach Johnson were not going to get along.
CHAPTER THREE
Barbara ate alone at the rear booth in one of the two cafes on Main Street, attracting a certain amount of conversation though she was not actually approached. She spent the evening watching television, the old black-and-white set having been included among the furnishings of her duplex. Tired from her trip, she turned it off at the end of the eleven o'clock news, then went into the bathroom and started the water running in the tub.
After bending over to test it with her finger and adjust the faucets to the desired balance between hot and cold, she straightened up and started to unbutton her blouse down the front.
The door was equipped with a full-length mirror and as she parted the lacy material off her brassiere-clad up-thrust breasts her eyes strayed to the reflection of her slender supple body. Still watching herself, she pushed the blouse off her shoulders to leave the upper half of her body completely exposed except for her tight white brassiere. She hung the blouse on the door knob, then loosened the snap at the zipper of her skirt and drew it slowly down, wriggling her hips in an unintentionally sexy gesture as she shed the garment down off her hips. Having removed her shoes while watching television, she now wore nothing but her brassiere and her flimsy bikini panties, and quickly she reached up behind her back to undo the brassiere-snap, shrugging her shoulders to let the flimsy garment fall from her arms and drop lightly to the floor.
Barbara stared silently at the reflection of her sensuously revealed body, her eyes roving slowly over her slender teasingly exposed torso and her proudly up-standing breasts peaked by her wide-corona pink nipples that had already erected to tingling rigidity from their contact with the air. Then slowly her gaze descended lower, down over the smoothness of her belly and the dainty little aperture of her navel, down lower to her low hanging silken panties where she could just distinguish the soft sparse triangle of pubic hair nestled so invitingly between her slender thighs. Perhaps it was narcissistic, she thought, but she couldn't deny her sexuality. She looked like she was just made to be loved, to be ravished, to be fucked, and she couldn't help but wonder why Greg had waited so long to finally do what he should have done weeks before. He had raped her, or at least he'd forced her against her protest if not her total resistance, and in spite of all her moral indignation she had loved it like she'd never loved anything in her life.
God, she thought, her mind blurring with the delicious memory of his hands on her naked flesh, his hard long prick tearing a burning hole of fire straight up through the tender little membrane of flesh that had guarded the exquisite inner secrets of her cunt. Now it seemed like nothing but a long lost dream, yet it was still more vivid in her memory than anything that had happened before or since. And here she was, alone in this little town devoted to the violent conflict of football, and he was so far away.
After another moment of intense staring at her own naked, lovely golden flesh, Barbara turned away from the mirror. She glanced back at the tub and noted it was almost filled, then quickly pulled her panties down off the ripe half-moons of her buttocks, fully exposing the forbidden triangle of soft golden hair between her thighs. She stepped out of her panties, leaving the little garment where it lay, stepped into the tub and lowered her body slowly into the hot bath. The contrast of the temperature of the water and the air in the room caused her to suck in her breath in an audible gasp. Her golden tanned skin prickled with goose bumps and her nipples rose to even greater rigidity from the sharpness of the sensation. Then a low sigh rose in her throat as she became aware of the warm caress of the water on her pussy, and gradually she sank down to a reclining position in the bath, leaning her head against the back of the tub to stare thoughtfully up to the ceiling.
For the first time since she'd arrived she seriously asked herself the question of how she was going to make a life for herself here in this little place. And the answer completely eluded her. Greg's cruel rape of her willing body almost seemed to have turned her into a new person. Though she'd tried to keep her mind off the memory, all through the evening it had been a lingering presence in her mind. She had to have a man, not just any man, but someone she was attracted to and cared for or loved. And here there was no one but those crude loggers who timbered the land, and that stupid hypocrite of a superintendent-football coach-Sunday school teacher, and Sonny, the cute little boy who was the only person she'd felt the slightest bit of rapport with, and those young toughs who were known as the Four Horsemen. God, thought Barbara, no wonder that other teacher got into trouble.
Then her body suddenly stiffened at the implication of what had just occurred to her. It was really crazy for her to be thinking like that, but of course it had just been a passing fantasy. She wasn't the kind of person who could ever get involved in something like what Superintendent Johnson had described to her this afternoon. But if she wasn't that kind of person, what kind of person was she! Her appetite had been whetted. The sensuous woman who had lain dormant inside her for so long had come to life, and somehow now that almost alien-seeming creature would have to be coped with.
"Oh hell," Barbara sighed uncharacteristically. It would all work out sooner or later, but she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt the way she did just now. The truth was that in spite of all her rightful indignation, she'd secretly been amused by the attention that had been given to her by the boys in the pick-up and by the way she kept catching Sonny looking at her when he was escorting her here from the curio shop. The whole day had been a kind of disappointing adventure, but for some reason her flesh and loins had been left prickling with a need that was stronger than anything she'd experienced since the night she'd finally given in to Greg.
Barely aware of what she was doing, Barbara drew her hands slowly up the length of her nakedly submerged body, cupping them lightly over the firm young mounds of her breasts, squeezing their teasing pliancy and tickling over the already tightly erected nipples. Then she let one of her hands trail back down over her naked belly beneath the hot water. The contact of her hand on her tingling flesh was like an electric current of building desire. She stroked over the hole of her navel and then suddenly moved her hand straight down through the silken curls of the soft sparse hair of her cunt.
The aroused young blonde drew in a low hissing of breath as her fingers ventured lower down between her slightly parted thighs, she played teasingly along one of the straining inner tendons before she suddenly made wantonly tantalizing contact with the lust-burning little lips of her cunt, the sheer raw sensation almost causing her to whimper aloud as the responsive surge of hunger went coursing out through her loins and breasts. Her whole naked body was crying out with untapped passion and without further hesitation she parted the blood-filled lips of her vagina, feeling the warmth of the bath water flowing straight up into the tight little orifice of her once-virginal cunt.
Now Barbara was really drifting into a blurred dream-like state of excitement and a series of tantalizing images fluttered conflictingly through her mind. She was vaguely aware that tomorrow morning she would actually be starting her life as a schoolteacher, fulfilling the ambition that had driven her through five years of rigorous study at college. Yet the excitement she should have experienced at that gave way to something bizarre and even more stimulating. She thought: I will be standing as though on display for five hours a day five days a week in front of those boys, those same boys who were seduced and corrupted by the woman whose place I'll take. And they would be looking at her, wanting her, building up fantasies in their minds about having her supple young body; they would lust after her as she now knew men, oh so many men, had been lusting after her ever since she'd first begun the physical transformation from child to woman. And of course they could not have her, just as no man had ever had her except the one man who had been aggressive enough to take her by force.
"Ooooooh," Barbara moaned in building delirium as her mind's eye was filled by a series of even more lurid images of the night Greg had so viciously ravished and thrilled her. She had not even had an orgasm and yet it seemed that the lack of fulfillment and satisfaction from that obscene episode left the memory of it even more vivid and compelling, and suddenly she extended the middle finger of her right hand and aimed it straight up between her thighs, stroking it right over the tingling lust-swollen bud of her clitoris to send a stream of maddening sensation coursing devastatingly over her naked, half-submerged flesh.
Then she trailed her finger lower down between her thighs, pressing the length of it straight along the inflamed hair-lined lips of her vagina. She moved her other hand quickly down from her breasts, spreading the pliant folds of flesh before she began to work her extended finger up into the warm inner sheath, the lubricating liquids of her body flowing freely out to mix with the hot water still lapping up into her sensitive little orifice.
The nakedly squirming young blonde grunted slightly from the sharp stab of sensation, then sighed as her finger slipped slowly deeper into her loins. Her tightly clinging opening parted, the walls of her pussy flowered out as though to suck the penetrating digit deeper inside.
Fantastic sensations rippled through Barbara's whole passion-aroused body and her nerves were electrically charged, all her senses heightened from the desire surging illicitly through her flesh. She arched her ass-cheeks up from the bottom of the tub, a low whimper issuing from deep in her throat as she started to work her finger in and out of the quivering little opening of her cunt. Her teeth were gritted, her eyes tightly closed, her sultry face contorted with desire. She was on the verge of beginning to really masturbate in earnest.
Then for a reason even she didn't understand, she sighed suddenly and sank back in the tub, her eyes opening wide and the motion of her hand between her thighs coming slowly to a stop. No, she wasn't going to do that. She wasn't going to masturbate. There might have been a time when she would have, feeling the way she felt now. But that time was past. Masturbation was play; but she had experienced the real thing. She would never really find true satisfaction, true fulfillment, until she experienced the real thing again.
* * *
There are moments in life, call them turning points or milestones, which one will await, long for or dread, imagine until they become almost real, almost lived before their time. Rarely, when one of these moments finally comes, does the reality of it correspond with the image so long anticipated. For Barbara, of course, her first day as a teacher was supposed to have been a milestone. In fact, perhaps because of everything else she'd been through during the last week and a half, that first day of classes hardly stood out from the day before or the day after. By the week's end it would just be one blurred memory out of time spent in a strange environment in which she still had not quite found her niche.
Of course Barbara had done her stint as a student teacher, while still an undergraduate, to fulfill the requirement for her certificate. That had been at Galileo High in San Francisco. Hatfieldville and San Francisco were two different worlds. Perhaps, she thought, the distinction lay in the fact that a big city high school like Galileo consisted of hundreds of outsiders, pushed by circumstance into a bounded confine. That in fact was what a city was made up of. A small town, or a small town school, by contrast, consisted of the insiders, who had been placed in their respective niches and who could only with the greatest effort change their status in the society, and the outsiders, who had no niche, who wandered, as though in limbo or in the darkness of ignorance until they found their niche or it was found for them.
Practically everybody in Hatfieldville High knew everybody else, and knew them intimately by the standards that prevailed in the places Barbara had lived before. There were several new students, but all but one of them had lived in Hatfieldville for at least half the summer, and though they were not really on the "inside", they were not total strangers. Barbara was the only new addition to the faculty. She had to get acquainted with her fellow teachers, she had to memorize the names of over a hundred students, but more important than learning their names, she had to learn who they were. That was the crux of the matter. These boys and girls all knew and understood each other, they were all fixed in their roles. Barbara had to recognize those roles, those places they filled in the school society, in order to deal with them as individuals.
At the top of the student body hierarchy was Bobby Lane, this in spite of the fact that he was only a junior. His leadership derived in essence from the fact that as quarterback of the football team he was leader of the legendary "Four Horsemen". The nucleus of his group was made up of the other three backfielders, Danny Morrow, Jimmy Crane and Tommy Howard. These four boys had occupied four desks together in the back of the room where she taught the English Literature class. Sonny Wilkens, the cute youngster who'd taken her to Mr. Gladstone's place the afternoon she'd arrived, had also registered for this class in spite of the fact that he was only a sophomore. That put Sonny in two of her classes, for which she was grateful, as he was still the only person she'd met in Hatfieldville with whom she'd felt any genuine rapport. Sonny, who'd come from Southern California to live with his grandmother when his parents had been killed in a car-wreck several years ago, was also a kind of outsider. He was genuinely interested in reading, and while not brilliant, he was because of his interest far and away the best student in both of the classes for which he'd registered.
So, gradually Barbara fell into the rhythm of teaching. She came to grasp the fact that football was king at Hatfieldville High, she tried not to fight that situation but to work within it and do her best to teach what she'd come here to teach without alienating her students by rejecting the sport they seemed to have been bred to focus their interest on in life. Of course after last year's scandal she inevitably was on trial herself. The first couple of days of classes she was subjected to considerable teasing, both to her face and behind her back, primarily at the hands of Bobby and his group. She tried to respond good naturedly, she did what she could to conceal the secret delight she derived from the unasked-for attention, and she thought that gradually she was winning the boys' respect.
Night was the worst time. She had managed even to establish an uneasy peace with Coach Burt Johnson. She'd been surprised to discover he was a bachelor but when he'd invited her out for a meal and a movie she'd politely refused, having convinced herself that it was better not to have any social involvement with the man who was her boss and with whom she was hardly in agreement about the basic tenets of education. That was the only invitation out she'd had, except for a few playful overtures from Bobby, always made in front of his friends. She tried to read and watch television to while away the time, but she was constantly aware of a gnawing sense of unfulfillment that had plagued her ever since the night of her forced defloration by her fianc'. It was as much out of loneliness as anything else that when, on Thursday afternoon, Sonny Wilkens visited her alone in her home room and asked if he could come over to her house some time, she'd suggested that he come for dinner that night. The boy accepted gratefully and seemed genuinely pleased when Barbara suggested that since she really didn't know the first thing about football perhaps he could explain the basics of the game so she could better understand what was happening the following weekend when the team would have its opening game. He assured her he could tell her whatever she wished to know, then mumbled that there was something he'd wanted to talk to her about too and now each of them could help the other. But before Barbara could even ask him what that was he'd retreated awkwardly from the room. Barbara spent the rest of the day in a state of nervously fluttering excitement. She thought now that during the last week, spent in almost total solitude except for her time at school, she hadn't realized how really on edge she was. The thought of having male companionship for th evening, even if her companion was to be a young and innocent boy instead of a man, thrilled her almost beyond belief and it was with the enthusiasm of a teenage girl preparing for her first date that the sensuous young blonde did her dinner shopping and went home to prepare to entertain her guest. She put two juicy steaks to marinate in a special Chinese sauce she'd learned to make in San Francisco, put two large potatoes to bake in the oven, then went and quickly showered with the hose that attached to the faucet in the tub.
Refreshed, her nakedly glistening skin still tingling with nervous excitement, Barbara got out of the shower and walked naked into her bedroom. She put on a pair of lacy black panties and a matching brassiere with flimsy net cups that did nothing to conceal the pert little points of her nipples. Then she hesitated, not sure what she should wear to greet her young visitor. She wanted to look her best, naturally, but by the same token she knew that she should be careful to be respectably and modestly dressed when he arrived. At last she selected a tight-fitting maroon sweater and a light beige skirt which stopped just above her knees. She put on a pair of thonged sandals with leather straps that wound around her ankles to hold them on, and which accented the length of her legs. Then she brushed out the golden locks of her hair, which she wore hanging long and loose over her slender shoulders, and went back out to prepare the steaks for cooking.
It was seven o'clock on the dot when Barbara heard the knock on the door. Her heartbeat slightly hastened as she hurried down the hall to open it. Sonny stood on the front porch, looking red-faced and slightly embarrassed. Tucked under his arm were a couple of books and several mimeographed sheets of paper stapled together.
"I hope I'm not late, or early," he said in a quavering voice.
Barbara laughed gaily, her firm voluptuous breasts bouncing teasingly on her slender torso. "No, Sonny. You're just in time. Come in."
"I brought a couple of books about football, and here's my copy of Coach Johnson's playbook. This will be more help than anything else. See?" he said, stopping just inside the door and holding up a bunch of mimeographed papers cluttered with hand-drawn diagrams. "The O's are us and the X's are the other team. These lines with the arrows on the end show where every man is supposed to go. The slash means a block, the dotted lines mean pass and this little V means a hand-off."
"Yes," Barbara smiled, though she'd hardly even followed what he said. "I'm sure that will be very helpful. Now, why don't you go into the living room and make yourself comfortable. I'll go and broil the steaks."
"Steaks?" he croaked.
"Sure. Don't you like steak? And a baked potato with butter and sour cream?"
"Yeah. Yeah, steak is great," Sonny said, though Barbara noted a slight lack of conviction in his voice.
She escorted the youngster to the living room, where the dining table was already set, then went to the kitchen and put the two sirloins on the broiler. Ten minutes later she served up the two juicy chunks of beef and the potatoes and small accompanying salads, then took the two plates out to the living room, where the young boy was lounging on the couch. They sat down at opposite ends of the table and Barbara filled their glasses with iced-tea from the pitcher she'd brought out earlier. Then she attacked her steak and potato with relish.
"After dinner maybe I can go over the play-sheet with you," Sonny offered.
"That's very nice. Maybe we will," Barbara answered without real interest, then looked up. "But what was it you were saying you wanted to talk to me about?"
A flicker of nervous alarm showed in Sonny's face and he averted his eyes. "Oh, nothing I guess."
Barbara smiled warmly. "Now I know there's something, otherwise you wouldn't have mentioned it. We'll get to it when we've finished eating." Then she paused, noting that Sonny had hardly touched his food. "Is there something wrong?"
"Hunh?"
"You're not eating. Is there something wrong with your steak."
"Naw," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I.. . I had to eat first over at my grandmother's. See, she wouldn't. . . she wouldn't.. . "
The boy's voice trailed off and he was unable to meet Barbara's eyes. "She wouldn't what?" Barbara insisted, then just before Sonny spoke she thought she understood.
"I didn't want her to know I was coming over here because.. . well, you know.. . what happened last year and all.. . "
"Oh my God," Barbara gasped, putting down her knife and fork. "This is worse than I expected. Now what would that have to do with you coming to visit me? I'm myself, not that other woman. And your grandmother seemed perfectly friendly toward me the day I first got here. She even sent you to help me with my suitcase." Then the young blonde's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Sonny? Were you involved with Dorothy Priddy?"
Sonny swallowed hard. "No. No, I wasn't."
"Well, I'm glad at least for that. But why would your grandmother worry about you having dinner over here."
Sonny looked down at the floor. "I dunno. Maybe she wouldn't. I didn't ask her or anything. I figured it was just better if I didn't mention it."
"And what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Barbara asked suspiciously.
"Oh heck," Sonny said, shaking his head. "I feel really stupid for even coming here."
"I don't want you to feel that way," Barbara said softly. "Let me finish my steak at least and we'll sit down and talk the whole thing over, whatever it is that's bothering you."
But the interruption had caused her to lose her appetite and after only several more bites she rose suddenly, took Sonny's plate along with her own and carried them back to the kitchen. She had emptied them and just put them to soak when Sonny came into the room after her, bearing the iced-tea pitcher and the silverware Barbara had left on the table.
"Oh thank you, Sonny," she said, pleased at the teenager's considerateness. She pitched the knives and forks into the dishwater, then ushered him out of the kitchen and back to the living room. At her direction Sonny took a seat on the couch and after a moment's hesitation she joined him there rather than taking the easy chair across the room. "Now Sonny, what was it you wanted to come over here to talk to me about?"
Sonny shook his head, breathing audibly. "Golly, Miss Halperin. I don't even know how to start. You're going to think.. . well I don't know what you're gonna think."
Barbara gazed tenderly over at the nervous youngster. For a moment he looked back at her, his eyes wandering hungrily down over the full swells of her breasts clearly defined in the tight-fitting sweater she wore. Then again he looked away and cleared his throat, but said nothing.
"Does it have something to do with this other teacher?"
Sonny nodded and looked up. "What it has to do with . . . I wasn't in on that."
"I . . . don't understand," Barbara said after a moment's hesitation.
"Well . . . Sonny began again, then his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"Oh Sonny," Barbara whispered, her hand moving up to touch the side of his face in a gesture of almost maternal sympathy. "Tell me then, what did happen? What was really behind the scandal?"
"She . . . Miss Priddy, she wasn't nearly as young or good-looking as you are," the youngster hesitantly began. "But she was really wild, you know. She'd just got a divorce from her old man when she come here, and Bobby and the other guys started working on her and one night at one of the victory dances-we have a victory dance on Saturday night if we win, and we almost always win-Bobby got her in his pick-up and did it to her."
Barbara gasped at the crudeness of the story, and the boy hesitated until she said tersely, "Go on Sonny; I'm listening."
"Word got around pretty fast, among the guys I mean. I heard them talking about it and at first I didn't even believe it. Then one day she asked me to come over and do some work, helping her clean out the attic of old Jim Miller's place, where she was living. And she started telling me . . . telling me I was cute and all that sissy sort of stuff. I didn't know what to do and so I didn't do anything.
After that the other guys really started bugging me, because by this time the whole backfield and about half the line had already fu-already done it to her. And then I knew it was true. And finally it really hit the fan the night of the pep rally before the Winders Falls game. They took her off in Bobby's pickup and got some beer and gang-banged her. Everybody but me."
Oh God, Barbara thought, her mind recoiling at the revolting story the story the young boy had just so nervously recounted. Her hand still lay softly on his face and she could feel the nervous trembling of his body, almost feel the pain he was putting himself through to tell her all this. And she still didn't know what he'd really had in mind by coming over here to talk to her about this, but she did know that she had to do whatever she could to help him. What he'd just confessed, though it should hardly have made him ashamed, told her so very much about his relationship with the coarser and more worldly boys at the school, and she realized that by a certain way of looking at it, what had happened, or not happened, the day Miss Priddy had invited him to her home could even account for the way the boys in the pick-up had jeered and catcalled at her the first day when they'd seen her with him on the street outside.
"But Sonny," Barbara began tenderly, "you should be proud that you didn't get involved in all that. Why I've never heard such a disgusting story in my life. You should be proud."
"Proud of what? That I'm about the only guy left above freshman in this whole school who hasn't had his first piece of.. . well, you know."
"But that will come in time," Barbara blurted. "You'll find a girl, a nice girl your age, who you can care for and with whom you can make . . . make it meaningful."
"I'm not going to find any nice girls in this stupid town. The only thing these girls are interested in is being with the football heroes, and Fm not even on the team. I'm nothing. I'm just a lousy water boy, like Gunga Din."
"That's not true," Barbara insisted, surprised at the poetic reference to Kipling.
"That's what they think around here, the boys and the girls both."
"That's not what I think," Barbara said with hastily quickening breath. She dropped her hand to cover Sonny's wrist, then let it rest on his knee. She saw the hope flicker in his eyes and he was looking at her as if trying to ascertain whether what she'd said was sincere. Then he looked down from her face, his eyes searching intently over the supple curves of her body, lingering momentarily on the up-thrust mounds of her breasts before descending to her smoothly tapering waist and flaring hips, her long beautiful legs outlined beneath the clinging material of her skirt.
Now Barbara was acutely aware of the way the boy was looking at her and she knew he was becoming sexually aroused in spite of all his shame and awkwardness. He was so innocent and she could only imagine the suffering and embarrassment that had prompted him to come seeking help from her. She knew how boys could be, how they seemed compelled always to gang up and attack the weakest in their group, and though she knew that their conversation had ventured over the danger line, and knew that it was not proper for her to sit here with him like this with him staring with such open, hunger at her lithe young body, she knew also that for her to reject him in any way now might cause irreparable damage to his ego.
Sonny moistened his lips, his eyes again lifting hopefully to Barbara's sensuously smiling face. "I guess the real reason I wanted to come here . . . , " he began, his voice again fading off.
"What, Sonny," Barbara coaxed, waiting with baited breath. "Why did you come here."
"I guess I had the idea you and I were somewhat alike," he said after a pause.
"Alike?" Barbara said with surprise, wondering if somehow this innocent youngster could have sensed her own past and grasped the fact that she had spent a number of years of her life considering herself almost a kind of freak because she had remained a virgin much longer than most of her contemporaries. "How do you mean, alike?"
"We're different than the people here," Sonny said. "I mean, I know you don't care about football and all that. I don't either. The only reason I even agreed to be assistant trainer was that it kept me from being completely left out. And you're not like the other girls . . . I mean women, around town."
"Oh Sonny," Barbara said softly, little tingles of delight dancing over her skin as she gazed into the boy's excited eyes. She could feel a very deep trembling in her own belly and she felt almost like reaching and hugging him, kissing him, showing him at least the way to approach the seduction of a woman. But she knew it was wrong for her to even be thinking in those terms. Perhaps even now she was courting the same disaster that had befallen the woman who'd been her predecessor here, and suddenly she sat up stiffly on the couch, turning slightly away and trying to get a grip on her own fluttering emotions.
"Now I've made you mad," Sonny said, dejected.
"Oh no!" Barbara turned abruptly back to the wounded youngster, realizing she'd done exactly what she'd wanted to avoid doing. She had made him feel rejected, and she knew that was an act she had to rectify immediately. "No Sonny, you didn't make me mad. I feel almost flattered that you should talk to me like that."
Sonny was again looking at her with that same furtive hope, and as she stared back into his innocent blue eyes the flood of emotion that swelled in Barbara's breasts was almost more than she could contain. God, she had been so lonely so very lonely, during the week since she'd come here. And for her it had been only a week, while for Sonny it had been several years.
Then, almost before she knew what she was doing, the sensuous young blonde turned sideways on the couch and reached her arms out to wrap them eagerly around Sonny's slender, shaking frame. Her fingers combed softly through his curly blond hair and she took a quick deep breath before leaning forward and touched her lips to his, holding him tightly to her for a moment before she drew back and pushed him gently away.
"There Sonny," Barbara murmured with a fleeting smile. "Now at least you've kissed a woman, if you never had before."
"Yes," Sonny agreed with an eager nod.
Barbara smiled, hoping the excitement surging over her own tingling skin didn't show. "So I hope you feel better," she said, trying to sound as casual as she could.
"Yeah, but . . . , " Sonny began nervously, finding it necessary to rally his courage before finally blurting: "But I sure would like to do it again. Could we, maybe a little longer this time and . . . "
Barbara started to say no, but the words didn't leave her mouth. Instead she waited in silence, knowing that now she really was treading onto dangerous territory, yet still unable to bring herself to make an outright refusal of the youngster's request. Of course there could be nothing really serious between them. She wasn't worried about that. She wasn't going to seduce Sonny and she wasn't going to be seduced by him. She doubted if he was even big enough or powerful enough to take advantage of her the way Greg had their last night together. But still she knew it was improper for her to be here with him like this, and she was almost at the point of explaining it to him on that level when he suddenly leaned forward, gathering her slender body awkwardly into his arms and locking his lips ardently over her slightly open mouth.
The young school teacher started, trying weakly to struggle free from the eager embrace. And yet she couldn't deny her excitement at Sonny's surprising show of aggression even as she pushed against his body her mouth was sucking his cautiously exploring tongue deep between her teeth. Then she ceased to resist altogether, letting her body go almost limp and squirming her breasts warmly against the frailness of his chest. Now she felt almost eager as she shamelessly wriggled the soft supple curves of her body even closer against the trembling teenager, delighting in the feel of his firm small pectorals rippling against her breasts as he held her tightly to his heaving chest. Then she gasped from the even more devastating surge of passion that ripped through her body as Sonny reached up suddenly to cup his hand over one of the lust-tightened swells of her breasts, and she reached up to wrap her arms again eagerly around his shoulders to pull him even more tightly to her.
A low moan of pleasure swelled in Barbara's throat as Sonny's fingers sought out the little distended bud of one of her nipples.
His other hand was clawing frenziedly at her back and she felt half-drunk with the forbidden physical delight of this masculine contact, lost with the rising passion rushing almost out of control through her tingling flesh. Then her whole body jerked, a further chill of delight coursing up her spine as one of Sonny's hands suddenly moved up beneath her sweater to cup firmly over one of her breasts, now protected from his touch by nothing but the gauze-like cup of her skimpy little brassiere.
Sonny was hanging onto the new English teacher's lustfully squirming body with all his might, his lips again wetly covering her mouth as he pawed awkwardly at her breasts. Barbara could feel the blood raging deep within her body and she knew she was duty bound to stop him right now. She'd certainly had nothing like this in mind when she'd decided to give him a kiss, but in her delirious state of excitement it seemed impossible to resist. It felt so good, so warm, so thrilling just to hold him in her arms. It was all so exciting and perverse, and as the young boy continued to paw and maul her aroused flesh she told hrself that still there was no real danger. She could always stop Sonny when it became necessary, and in the meantime, it couldn't do any harm to play around a little and enjoy herself for just a few minutes longer.
Then another low moan rose in the young school teacher's throat as Sonny moved his hand down from her back to find the hem of her modest length skirt, tugging it quickly up her thighs almost to the leg-band of her tight-fitting little panties. A shudder coursed through her slender lust-racked body as she felt his fingers touch her inner thigh just above the knee, moving swiftly up across her sensitive satiny skin.
"Oh no, Sonny. Stop," Barbara purred halfheartedly, tearing her lips away from the youngster's mouth as she felt his other hand press and squeeze even more forcibly at her breast. A little cry of mingled pain and excitement burst from her throat as he took her already distended nipple and rolled it forcibly between his thumb and forefinger to cause the little bud to swell to even greater hardness. Then his hand up beneath her skirt brushed along the tight-straining tendon at the top of her inner thigh, venturing gradually higher, and in sudden fearful desperation at the maddening urges coursing through her lust-ignited flesh she reached down to seize his wrist and try to tug his hand down from beneath her skirt.
For the briefest moment Sonny fought back. Barbara held his wrist firmly in her own and she was struggling with all her strength to push it away from the burning softness of her cunt, and Sonny was pushing back just as hard, his fingers extended and groping until they just touched the little silken crotch band of her sheer panties stretched tight across the thinly haired plane of her pussy. Then he relaxed slightly, letting his hand slide back halfway down to her knee where he dug his fingers into the sensitive flesh so hard she cried out in pain, and as he tried to make a stand there between her legs his other hand suddenly yanked the flimsy little brassiere-cups away from her breasts, his fingers now tweaking and gouging at the nakedness of her rigidly swollen nipples. His mouth again covered hers firmly and he threw his weight hard against her, pushing her to a half-reclining position against the armrest of the couch.
Now Barbara was really fighting for her life, her own lust mushrooming to a crescendo at the sheer animal assault being launched against her desire-saturated body. Still clinging to the hand that was thrust up beneath her skirt, with her other hand, she reached up beneath her sweater to try to defend her breasts. She bucked and squirmed, alternately sucking at Sonny's tongue and trying to fight it from the warm moist hollow of her mouth. And then, when she feared she was just on the verge of ceasing to resist, Sonny sighed, relaxed, ceased his struggling and, as she gave a little shove against his chest, straightened up and removed his two hands respectively from beneath her sweater and skirt.
"Oh Sonny," Barbara gasped breathlessly, experiencing a strange mixture of triumph and disappointment as she realized her defense had been successful.
"I'm sorry," Sonny gasped, staring still wild-eyed at her lust-strained face.
"I know you are," Barbara managed in a quivering voice. "But you've got to go. You've got to go right now."
"No please!"
"Come on." She stood up suddenly, taking him by his wrist and jerking him up from the couch, leading him almost forcibly from the living room and down the hall to the door.
"Now go, Sonny. Go on before we do something we'll both regret."
"But.. . "
"But nothing."
"But.. . if I go now, can I come back again sometime?"
"Oh Sonny. All right. But now you've got to go."
She watched him retreat down the steps, half-dejected, half-hopeful. Then she turned and walked on wobbly legs back down the hall to the living room.
CHAPTER FOUR
That happened on Friday. He came back to her house the next Sunday night.
Though as a child Barbara had been given a strict religious upbringing, she had during the time she was in college ceased to attend services regularly. This was not to say that she had abandoned her faith in God. If anything, her faith had grown stronger once it had been allowed to grow naturally rather than existing as an obligation to her parents.
She had merely come to the conclusion that she could believe in God and love and serve him independent of any dogma or any organization. But on Saturday Coach Johnson had encountered her in the supermarket where she was shopping for the weekend's groceries and reminded her that he expected to see her at services the next morning, and she had concluded that it was probably advisable to attend. In a small town like this it certainly would serve no purpose for people to get the idea she was some kind of atheist or agnostic, and in any event getting dressed and going to church would give her something to do.
Of course Sonny was also at church, sitting with his grandmother in the center section-Bobby Lane and his bunch, Barbara noted, occupied the pew at the rear and on more than one occasion during the service either the pastor or Burt Johnson saw fit to cast them stern glares of disapproval at their whispered conversation or giggling. Sonny was involved in a mischief of his own.
Barbara was sitting next to Mr. Gladstone, a couple of pews back of the cute blond-headed youngster whose awkward and eager hands had on Friday night pawed and mauled so hungrily over her salaciously yielding body, and throughout the course of the long boring sermon he'd repeatedly kept looking back at her, hungrily, lustfully, his eyes sheepishly pleading for some sign of approval or recognition, intimate, until Barbara could have almost died of shame at the thought of what the rest of the congregation would think if they knew what had happened between them.
And yet in all her shame and humiliation at what had happened between her and the innocent young boy, the mere memory of their illicit little interlude on her living room couch caused her skin to tingle with renewed hunger beneath the modest dress-suit she'd worn for the service, and as she let her own mind wander over the titillating recollection she was aware of a deep maddening flutter far up between her thighs and even a slight dampening of her panties by the time the final hymn was sung.
Feeling nervously distraught, Barbara went through the formalities of politely refusing a few invitations to Sunday dinner. She did her best to avoid looking directly at Sonny and fled the church as quickly as possible, going back to the security of her little duplex.
It was about seven o'clock that evening that she heard the knock on the door. It was a sultry late summer evening and, having had no intention of leaving her house, Barbara was lounging around in nothing but a pair of tight pussy-high Levi shorts and a sleeveless pink sweater which, lacking the presence of a brassiere, served to sensuously accent the shape and firmness of her high up-standing breasts.
Barbara rose from her place in the easy chair before the television, her breath hastening slightly. She ran quickly down the list of people who could possibly be turning up now. Sonny's name came last to her mind, and that was the one that remained. For the briefest instant she thought of the way she was dressed, or almost undressed, and she considered the thought of changing into something more modest. Then as the knock was repeated she abandoned that proposition, switched off the television and hurried down the hall to the door.
Sonny stood outside on the porch, his young eyes bulging slightly at the sight of Barbara's long, completely exposed legs. For a moment neither of them said anything. He stood on the porch, fidgeting nervously with his hands. Barbara stood inside, her breasts rising and falling visibly with her hastened breath-rate as she stared out through the screen. Then slowly she pushed the screen open, her eyes unconsciously surveying the street to ascertain whether anyone happened to be looking at her house. Then she looked back at Sonny, whose eyes were roving without inhibition over the lushly revealed curves of her slender inviting form.
"W-what do you want, Sonny?" she asked at length in a soft strained voice.
"Can I come in?"
Barbara bit her lip. "I.. . I really think it's better that you don't."
"But you promised. The other day when I left you promised I could come back again."
Barbara breathed in deeply, gazing with a mingling of apprehension and longing down at the young boy's hopeful face. She remembered her embarrassing physical response earlier in the day at church when she'd seen him looking at her and had let herself recall their salacious carryings-on the last time she'd had him here in the house, and she knew that it would be insane for her to let him in again. And yet she couldn't help being happy to see him. She was lonely, and the natural yearnings of her awakened young body were making themselves known in spite of all her efforts to keep them under control.
"Please Miss Halperin," Sonny begged abjectly. "Please, I've got to see you. I couldn't stand it looking at you today in church and then the way you ran off as soon as the service was over. You made me feel almost like you hated me or something."
Barbara sighed. "All right, Sonny. You can come in for a minute.
She pushed the screen-door open and Sonny brushed past her and walked quickly down the hall to the living room. Barbara followed more slowly on her bare feet, her heart pounding frantically and her breathing rising to a pitch. Reaching the living room door, she saw that Sonny was already seated on the couch. She didn't have the slightest doubt that he expected her to join him, and that was just the thing that she was not under any circumstances going to do.
"All right, Sonny. What's on your mind." Barbara stood like an animal at bay in the center of the room. She was intensely conscious of her own slender, half-clothed body. She knew the shorts she'd worn were so tight the youngster must almost be able to see the slit of her pussy outlined in their crotch, and without a brassiere the tight-fitting little sweater she wore did almost nothing to conceal her breasts. Her sheer vulnerability to his hungering gaze only served to increase the excitement stirring in her loins and she knew that if she didn't send him away soon she might really be in trouble. "What do you want? You know I don't think it's right for you to come here after what happened the other night."
"But I have to see you, Miss Halperin. I have to." Sonny hesitated briefly, then patted the place beside him on the couch. "Won't you . . . won't you come over here."
"No Sonny," Barbara said courageously, sucking in a low gusty breath and shaking her head in the negative. "I'm not coming over there Sonny. And what happened the other night, it's not going to happen again."
"But.. . , " Sonny gazed pleadingly at the shorts-clad blonde. The boy had been able to think of nothing but the sexy English teacher since night before last when he'd come here and almost made out with her, feeling her breasts and almost reaching her pussy. He didn't think he could stand it if he didn't get the chance to do that to her again. It was driving him out of his mind just thinking about, and this evening she looked better than ever.
Suddenly convinced he was going to have to move quickly and take positive action on his own behalf before Miss Halperin kicked him out of her house, Sonny rose suddenly and moved swiftly toward the center of the room. Then before Barbara could even move to resist he reached out with both hands to seize the shorts-clad half-moons of her buttocks, pulling her body forcibly to his and planting several clumsy kisses on the golden flesh of her shoulders and neck.
"God Miss Halperin, I'm sorry," he groaned heavily in her ear as she put up a faint struggle of resistance against the aggressive and awkward embrace. "I can't help it. You're too beautiful. I've got to touch you. I've just got to."
"Ooohhh," Barbara moaned with spontaneous unwanted delight as the boy bounced onto his tiptoes and trailed his tongue along the sensitive smoothly tanned skin of her neck. She could feel the blood rushing deep in her loins and in the tingling nipples of her breasts. Then his lips were on her mouth, his hands digging deeply into the round pliant firmness of her squirming ass-cheeks, teasing and squeezing them with an urgency that jarred her from head to foot. She could feel his boyish cock pressing up against her bared inner thighs through the cloth of the crotch of his trousers, and her panty-covered vagina seemed to be throbbing with its own personal passion down inside her skimpy tight-fitting little shorts. She was doing everything she could to fight the illicit impulses surging through her loins, but more and more the unleashed desire that had lain dormant in her so long was beginning to take control of her body, spirit and mind.
"Oh Sonny, please!" Barbara cried out with a low, lust-strained gasp, suddenly tearing his lips away from the young boy's mouth and pulling her head back to stare down at him with lust-glazed eyes. Yet still she was unable to disengage her body from his. She could still feel the bulging hardness of his cock now shoved right up between her thighs so the crotch of his trousers fitted right in against the crotch of her own shorts, and she could feel the pressure of his straining rigidity shoved right against the plane of her lust-moistened little cunt.
Then Sonny's hand slipped down from her buttocks, pushing up between her thighs from the back to cause a friction of the Levi material right over the cringing little hole of her anus before his fingers pressed against her little cunt-slit itself, barely protected by the thinness of her panties and clinging shorts.
"Oh God!" Barbara sobbed in a genuinely anguished tone as she felt further tremors of excitement coursing out relentlessly through her lust-tortured loins. Then the pressure of his probing finger increased, intensifying the raw sensation, and for a moment she thought she would swoon right there in Sonny's arms. Then somewhere deep in her subconscious a warning bell seemed to ring, and with a sudden animal gasp she began to tug and kick and struggle with all her might, her bare feet stomping into Sonny's shins, one of her knees jerking upward in a jackknife motion between his legs at the same time her hand found his face and her fingernails dug into the skin and clawed.
"Uggghhh! Owwwweeee!"
She heard the grunt from the contact of her knee, the cry that answered her scraping hand. She was free. Half-doubled over, Sonny was stepping back from her, his hands clutching at his crotch.
Her breasts rising and falling heavily with her low strained animal-like breath, Barbara stared at him slack-jawed, wide-eyed with excitement and anger, fear and compelling want. For a moment she could hardly even sort out in her mind what had happened. The first thought that popped into her head almost caused her legs to go weak. If he were stronger, she was thinking, he would take me now, he would take me now and fuck me, and he would do it whether I wanted it or not.
Her mind reeled from the very thought of it. Then Barbara was suddenly snapped to another level of reality by Sonny's whimpering wail:
"My balls! You've busted my balls!"
Barbara's hand flew up to her mouth and a little sob burst to her lips as she saw Sonny groaning and cringing in pain before her. My God, without realizing it she had kneed him right in the testicles. She had really hurt him and she could see the pain, both mental and physical, mirrored clearly on his face. And worse, she recognized all too clearly her own subconscious motive for her sudden violent defense. She knew she could have stopped Sonny with far less than the drastic measures she'd employed. But the truth was that she hadn't really wanted to stop him. Subconsciously, her desire had been to provoke him to an even more fervent attack. She had wanted to recreate the conditions of that one night Greg had forced her to do what she so badly wanted to and couldn't until she was forced.
"Oh my God, Sonny," Barbara gasped, her remorse welling almost parallel to her still insatiable raging lust. "What have I done, oh Sonny, Sonny . . . "
"You kicked me in the balls," the boy gasped, grimacing and writhing in pain, his hand still clutched protectively to his groin.
Barbara's lips were quivering and her eyes filled with tears of shame and remorse as she confronted that terrible discovery about herself. She felt as if she'd found an evil growth that was slowly devouring her body and she thought she could have died rather than face that hurt look in Sonny's glaring eyes. She knew that somehow she had to make it up to him for what she had done. She could see that his trust in her and his confidence in himself was completely destroyed, and it seemed to her now almost certain that he saw as clearly as she did her real perverse and ulterior motive for what she had done. And she had to undo that horrible action. Somehow she had to turn the clock back. She had to have his forgiveness; otherwise, how would she ever forgive herself?
Then, still not sure what she was going to do, Barbara stepped toward the trembling teenager, who retreated a couple of paces before finally allowing her to wrap her arms around him and hug his face to her breasts. Barbara moaned deeply, her guilt and her overflowing of emotion only heightening the deep throbbing in her belly and loins. She squeezed Sonny warmly to her, showering kisses on his head and cheeks, squirming her breasts full against his face. Then, her own passion rising like mercury in a boiling thermometer, she guided the still distrustful teenager back to the couch, urged him to a sitting position and dropped down quickly beside him.
"Oh, Sonny, did I hurt you?" she whispered. "Did I hurt you . . . down there?"
She said it and as she spoke her eyes dropped toward the lower half of his body. Her hands trembled as she reached down to remove his hand, still shielding his injured groin, and as he quivered before her she lay her hand down gently directly on the crotch of his Levi's. She felt his now deflated cock-shaft through the coarse material, evidence that his cries of pain had not been faked; then, as she began to stroke gently over his little member from the outside of the trousers that protected it, she felt it's hardness coming back. Then, still not thinking of the possible consequences of her action, Barbara sezied the zipper catch and pulled it slowly downward. When she had his fly open she fitted her hand inside to grasp the already almost fully-erected shaft of his penis. She worked it out of his jockey shorts and freed it completely to protrude straight up out of his open trousers fly, the slitted glans at the tip glistening with a little drop of seminal fluid that had seeped out and bore witness to the regeneration of his lust.
"Oh Sonny, I'm so sorry," Barbara whimpered in her lust-inspired delirium. She wrapped her hand around the now upstanding shaft of his cock, squeezing it tightly between her inexperienced fingers as her other hand went up to loosen the buttons of his shirt and then undo his belt and the top button of his trousers to give her even greater access to the object of her illicit desire.
"Oh!" Sonny gasped, a trace of suspicion lingering in his voice in spite of his renewed excitement. "W-what are you doing?"
Barbara was too involved in the masochistic expiation of her guilt and the correlative lust surging through her own body to even answer. Her head was spinning in a spiral of sensual need, and slowly she began an up-and-down stroking motion along his straining little cock-shaft, her fingers tracing lightly over the swollen veins and the resiliency pulsing flesh. She still didn't even know what she was going to do. Ever since her violent outburst when she had kneed him in the groin she had been operating on sheer feminine instinct. All she did know was that she had hurt him, here, right on his youthful genitalia; now she was determined to make him feel good, on the same area of his anatomy.
"Ooooooh boy!" Sonny groaned in spite of himself as Barbara continued the teasing pumping rhythm of her hand sliding up and down the length of his cock.
Now Barbara was almost out of her mind with masochistic craving. She stared hungrily down at his small resilient hardness, marveling at its youthful benignity compared with the giant shattering maleness that just less than two weeks ago had permanently lacerated the sensitive hymen of her vagina. And as she continued to tease and fondle the excited and astonished youngster, the words that poured from her lips were like a pagan chant of invitation to joy and delight:
"Oh Sonny, did I hurt your little penis, did I hurt your balls? I'm going to make it up to you, I promise I'm going to make it up. Did I hurt you there, oh God, what can I do to make it well? What can I do? Would you like me to kiss it, Sonny? Would that make it well?"
The words came to her as distant echoes, hardly even like her own voice, but Sonny's reply sounded real enough: "Yes, Miss Halperin. Kiss it. I bet then it would really feel all right again."
Oh my God, Barbara though, blinking in astonishment as she realized what she'd said. And yet she had said it, she had offered to do this in return for what she had done before, and as she gazed narrow-eyed down at the purplish straining shaft the suggestion did not seem half as revolting as she would have imagined. In fact, there was something almost awesomely beautiful and tasty-looking about the erected little cock-shaft she held gripped so tightly in her palm, and with a low gasp she pushed Sonny straight down to a reclining position on his back. She leaned forward, lowering her face over his loins, her blonde hair dangling down over her cheeks like a tent around the up-thrust pole of his hard young maleness, her lips poised but inches from his blood-swollen cock-tip.
Then with a low gasp the masochistically aroused blonde dropped her face lower, extending her tongue out so it darted into the tiny slit of the purplish glans to lick up the little droplet of seminal fluid that had seeped forth. She'd never done anything like this in her life, and she was both surprised and excited by the pleasing tangy taste of the clear viscous substance. She gripped his pulsing cockshaft firmly at the base between her thumb and forefinger, pulling the skin tightly down and holding it there as she observed and studied the slitted little opening staring back at her now like the eye of a Cyclops. Then, surrendering completely to her irresistible urge, she moaned softly and dropped her head lower, letting her lips part into a salacious oval to envelop his whole rubbery blunt-ended cockhead.
Sonny gasped out in surprise, his face turning pink as Barbara's moist lips covered the end of his cock. Her tongue swirled in teasing circles around his sensitively jerking cock-head and she could feel his penis further stiffening as she dropped her mouth lower. She heard Sonny groan, and before she even realized what was happening, he reached down to run both his hands through her long golden hair, holding her face buried against his loins as he thrust his buttocks up from the couch in an act of instinctive aggression that drove his palpitating rod of flesh all the way to the hilt into Barbara's helplessly unresisting mouth.
"Uggghhhhh!" the startled blonde grunted. This was more than she'd intended to do but with the grip he had on her hair it seemed impossible to resist. The boy's sudden seizing of the offensive had almost gagged her and she thought she would choke from the now seemingly monstrous presence of his lust-swollen cock-head buried far in the back of her throat. And yet she took a strange masochistic pleasure even in this depraved use of her mouth. Now Sonny thrust his buttocks upward, impaling her mouth deeper with his pummeling hardness, and she groaned even louder, struggling, gasping to catch her breath on the out-stroke before he thrust fiercely again up between her lips.
Then, still clinging tightly to her hair and to the back of her neck, he began to hump and buck in a frenzied rhythm, ramming brutally inward time and time again until he was literally banging into her face with his pounding upward lunges.
Shamelessly Barbara submitted to this cruel fucking into her ill-used mouth. Sonny's pelvis was jerking in a frenzy of lustful force, his whole body trembling as he bucked up and down in staccato rhythm to ram his expanded cock deeper and deeper up between her slavishly sucking lips. She could feel the resilient ridges of the hard-pumped flesh swelling against her hollowed cheeks, his spongy cock-head slamming against her sensitive tonsils, and she tasted more of his tangy viscous seminal fluid mingling with her own freely flowing saliva. And then suddenly as the excited teenager's body abruptly began to quiver rigidly, the reality of what was about to happen dawned on her with all the force of a sledgehammer hitting her on the head.
He was going to cum! And if she didn't get away he was going to do it right in her mouth!
"Mmmmmnnnn! Uhhhhggghhh! Noooo pleaseeee!" Barbara groaned and gurgled almost unintelligibly around his hard shaft of flesh still plunging frenziedly to the threshold of her throat. She jerked her head violently back, but Sonny clung desperately to her hair, then dropped his hands to seize her by both her ears, pulling her face again flush against his loins as his penis flexed even larger into her already obscenely stretched and hollowed mouth.
Oh God, she thought. He was really going to do it, forcibly, and there wasn't any way she could stop him. He was going to cum in her mouth whether she submitted or not. It was just like the night Greg had finally lost his patience after all that time and fucked her in spite of all her attempts to resist, and she realized that under the present circumstances it was exactly what she'd asked for. It was as if her evil thought had backfired in her face. He hadn't had the strength to overpower and rape her in the standard fashion, but once she'd been placed in this groveling position over his loins, the grip of his hands holding tightly to each of her ears made it impossible for her to escape.
Then, her body trembling in masochistic resignation, Barbara reached one of her hands down between her thighs and up to her shorts to rub swiftly up and down across the crotch band of the little garment. She could feel that her panties were completely moistened, and the desire welling through her loins was almost more than she could bear. She was going to give Sonny his release; she had to have her own, and in an even greater desperation she extended her middle finger and slipped it straight up inside the leg of her shorts, pulling the crotch band of her moistened panties aside and working her stiffened digit straight up into the juicy folds of her cunt.
In spite of all her shame and indignation at what she knew was about to happen, Barbara began to work even harder to please the excited teenager with the fervent ministrations of her mouth. She tongued eagerly around the bloated head of his penis, tightening her lips hungrily around the spiraling shaft, scraping softly up and down with her teeth to elicit little gasps and cries of shock and pleasure-pain from his throat. She knew he wasn't going to be able to control himself much longer under these conditions, and now if he was going to cum she was ready for it. She longed for it in a way she didn't even understand, and her hunger and need only increased with just the thought of it actually erupting and spewing between her lips, of that life-giving male semen actually pouring into her mouth and down her throat.
Then suddenly the muscles of Sonny's stomach stretched taut and he arched himself up violently from the couch, driving his young cock deeper and deeper into Barbara's throat as he still clung viciously to her ears. His body shuddered and spasmed. A low moan of triumph and delight welled like a growl in his throat.
A moment later it began. His cock gave a series of violently swift jerks against her palate and her tongue, and his control slipped finally away, the dam bursting in an obscenely lustful torrent as the searing droplets of his cum squirted forth in a flood deep into her mouth.
Barbara gagged as she felt his slick semen splattering against her throat, gurgling as his white-hot sperm came gushing out down her tongue. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic-like ring around his wildly lurching member, swirling her tongue faster and faster around his exploding young cock-head. In her masochistic delight she hastened the finger-fucking rhythm up between her own exposed and scissoring thighs, ramming her plundering digit deeper and deeper up the leg of her tight little shorts and into the burning opening of her cunt. And as she threw herself wholeheartedly into the task of sucking the youngster dry, the fluttering in her own loins suddenly spiraled to a crescendo. The quivering in her thighs became a spasm, the spasm became a brilliant white light as her whole writhing body seemed to explode in a clear white flash of lust.
Drop after drop of Sonny's gushing semen rushed up from his cock and squirted down Barbara's throat. She basked in the sheer humiliation of it all, closing her mouth tightly in an effort not to lose a single drop. She gurgled and swallowed until her tautly stretched lips were filled to the brim and still the volley of his obscene liquid continued. And it seemed like an eternity before the hands holding her ears finally slipped away and his cock gave a final short squirt of his boiling salty fluid and started to go limp in her mouth.
Then his deflated cock slipped from her lips and Sonny sagged back, panting to catch his breath as the dazed blonde raised up from over his loins.
Barbara reached up with her free hand to wipe the remaining mixture of saliva and cum from her lips. Her other hand was still embedded between her thighs and suddenly she jerked her finger free from the leg band of her panties and shorts and pulled it away. Gradually the shame and humiliation and the possible terrible consequences of what she'd done swept over her. no
CHAPTER FIVE
Barbara didn't know how she mustered the courage to show up for school on Monday. She couldn't bear the thought of looking Sonny in the eye, and though she'd made him promise he would never tell anybody what had happened between them, she was deathly afraid of what she would find when she did finally have to face him and his more worldly classmates. But by the time her initial class period was completed, she was sure from the lack of any change of attitude toward her on the part of Bobby and the other's that Sonny hadn't talked. As for Sonny himself, he sat in his front row seat, looking at her smugly though she consciously avoided meeting his gaze, even when he volunteered to make a comment on the material they were studying at that time.
After class, the students shuffled out in their usual noisy manner. Bobby winked at her as he went out the door, eliciting a few guffaws from his companions. Dora Maples, a rather simple and plain but well meaning junior girl who worked hard at her studies, lingered to ask a couple of questions. Then, after she'd told the girl what she wanted to know, Sonny came back in from the hall, looking somewhat less smug and self-satisfied than he had when the class began.
In spite of her nervousness and embarrassment, Barbara did everything she could to maintain her self-control and authoritative air as the young boy walked toward her desk, a nervous, hopeful smile on his face.
"Sonny?" Barbara asked in a terse voice. "Is there something you want to know about what we discussed today? Or about your assignment for tomorrow?"
Sonny frowned as though with incomprehension. "Naw, I understand all that. That's kid's stuff. But.. . "
"But what Sonny?" Barbara asked, her arms folded across her breasts, her lovely face a cold hard mask.
"But . . . you acted like you didn't even know me today. After . . . "
His voice trailed off and Barbara finished the sentence for him. "After last night?"
"Yeah."
Barbara was doing everything she could to maintain her control over her own emotions, but she was sure that still none of her inner turmoil showed in her face. "Sonny. I told you that what happened last night was an accident. It won't happen again."
"Accidents can happen twice," he ventured.
"Yes. Some accidents. But not that." The self-composed young blonde took a deep breath. "Now Sonny, I don't want you staying after class to talk to me about that. I want you to forget it happened. And if you have any respect for me at all, the most you can do is just promise you'll never, never tell. I know you could blackmail me, but that wouldn't work either. If anyone but me or you ever even shows a sign of suspecting that, I will simply leave. Do you understand?"
"I . . . guess so. But . . . can I come over again tonight?"
"No you can't come over again tonight!" she snapped, her voice raising slightly. Then she repeated more softly: "No Sonny, you can't come there again. That's all there is to it. Now go. I have work to do."
He came to her place again on Wednesday night. She had been living like a hermit the last two days. As soon as school was finished she would go to the grocery store for her food, then go home and enclose herself for the night, curtains drawn, doors and screens locked. Her work, those two nights, became her life; the television, her remorse and her lingering still unsated need. She lived in silent and lonely suffering, but it was a suffering and solitude she knew she deserved. She felt cut off, not just from the school but from the whole human race, like a leper.
Barbara was just finishing a minute steak and a plate of scrambled eggs when she heard the knock on the door, which that evening she recognized immediately as Sonny's. Her first thought was not to answer it, but she rejected that immediately, deciding instead that she would strive for one last confrontation with the youngster with whom she'd acted so lasciviously during her moment of weakness. But just for good measure she left the screen latched and talked to him through it, explaining as calmly as she could that it was just because she did like him that she couldn't let him in the house. Then she hit the clincher: "What would your grandmother think if she knew what you did to me the other night?"
Sonny's eyes widened with fear at the very thought and through the screen Barbara saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "God, she would just die. Or kill me, I don't know which."
"And that is why I can't see you here anymore. There are never secrets in a small town like this. And if you won't keep mine, I can't keep yours."
After a bit of further, but weaker protest and pleading, Sonny left. Barbara walked, her shoulders shaking with sobs, back down the hall to the living room and the TV set that had become her only companion.
On Friday night the football season opened. The temperature had cooled slightly and the sexy blonde English teacher, happy for a chance to get out of her house without having to worry about confronting Sonny, who of course had his duties on the sidelines and playing field, was comfortable in a light sweater and ankle length sheath skirt that somehow made her feel slightly less vulnerable to the stares and catcalls of a group of drunken loggers sitting several tiers below her.
Halfback Danny Morrow took Winders Falls' opening kickoff and returned it to the defense's twenty-yard line. Three plays later Bobby Lane hit Darrel Clayton, the gangly right end for Hatfieldville, with a looping pass for the first touchdown. After that it was downhill for Winders Falls. By halftime the Four Horsemen of Hatfieldville had racked up a touchdown apiece, in addition to the original pass. During the second half Coach Johnson pulled out his stars to give the second string some experience, but even they were a match for the weaker team from the north.
Barbara left the game feeling that she had genuinely enjoyed herself just by being out, even if for most of the contest she'd had very little idea what was going on. As she was leaving the field Sally Morehead, who taught history, caught up to her and reminded her to be sure not to miss the victory dance at the gymnasium on Saturday night. She quelled Barbara's protest that she hadn't planned on going to the dance by informing her it was at least unofficially required of all faculty members. It was supposed to be a show of school spirit. If there'd been any doubt of that in her mind Coach Johnson erased it the next afternoon with a phone call reminding her she was expected to attend.
The faculty members had gathered, at the coach's invitation, in his office before the dance. Everyone was there but Sally Morehead, who'd been relegated to the task of watching over the arrival of the students to the gymnasium and seeing that things didn't get out of hand before the rest of the teachers arrived. At first Barbara had assumed that the gathering was special, that they had been called together there for some specific purpose. But as the coach began a rambling speech about how glad he was to have everyone back for another school year, how glad he was Barbara had joined their staff, how pleased he was with the way the year had begun, she begun to feel he'd decided to take a few minutes off to function as superintendent. That illusion was shattered immediately when he closed the introductory paragraph of his speech by saying how proud he was and how proud he was sure they all were of the team's performance the season's opening game.
Then the coach proceeded to discuss school spirit, sportsmanship and the value of competition sports to prepare students for the competition of life. Barbara thought she was on the verge of passing out from sheer boredom when the coach suddenly and to her complete surprise produced a bottle of bourbon and a case full of brandy snifters, kept in the cupboard beneath one of the trophy cases, and poured drinks all around. It was the first taste of alcohol Barbara had taken since her last night with Greg and as they drank the first of a series of toasts, this one to the team's victory, she felt an almost immediate lightening effect.
Coach Johnson continued to pour and the nine teachers continued to drink their toasts and soon the little gathering had reached a mood of real gaiety. But even though her head was almost spinning from what she'd drunk, Barbara couldn't help feeling that Burt Johnson was acting hardly different than he must have acted twenty-five years ago when as a high school boy he'd probably first raided his father's liquor cabinet and shared the spoils with his friends. He was enjoying the attention he received as dispenser of the drinks, and he was using it as a means of exerting his power over the others. By pouring the drinks, he paced their consumption, and once or twice Barbara, an empty glass before her, got the feeling he relished his ability to keep her waiting. But she was relaxed, almost enjoying herself, and she felt less like an outsider as far as the other faculty members were concerned than she had since she'd come here. She was almost disappointed when, though there still remained a little bourbon in the bottle, Coach Johnson consulted his watch and announced that it was time for the dance to begin and that they should all begetting over to the gymnasium.
The coach put the bottle and the glasses away and they filed out of the main school building, down the arcade and along the sidewalk beside the auditorium to the lighted gym. At first Barbara walked alone in the group, then he moved up and walked just beside her.
"I hope you enjoyed our little party?" he asked.
"Yes, very much," said Barbara with a polite smile.
"And the refreshments . . . " He paused. "I thought you looked surprised. Maybe you found it out of character after everything else you've seen since we met."
"Perhaps I was a.. . little surprised," Barbara ventured cautiously.
"Yes, the Sunday school teacher-superintendent-coach who serves whiskey to his faculty in his office on Saturday night." The coach laughed as though proud of himself. "I'm not as simple and one-track minded as I appear. I believe there are a number of things a person can enjoy doing in this life. Some of them are best done moderately. Like drinking. Perhaps dancing falls into that category too. But I sure hope I can have one with you tonight."
Barbara looked sharply at the coach, wondering if she hadn't misjudged him even more than she'd thought. This time when she smiled her smile was genuine, and the only thing troubling her was the lingering knowledge in the back of her mind that if he knew the truth about what she had done with Sonny Wilkens last Sunday night instead of talking nicely to her like this he would be organizing a lynch mob to have her run out of town. "Yes," she said after a moment. "I'd be very happy to dance with you, Coach."
The gymnasium was softly but by no means dimly lit. Along one side of the basketball court a long table was laid out with hors d'oeuvres and two large bowls of punch. Rock-and-roll music was blaring on a record player over a general buzz of conversation. Several couples were dancing in the center of the floor and off in one corner two girls were practicing a dance-step together while a third rather plain-looking girl looked on, but the great bulk of the student body was just standing around talking and waiting. It became evident, when the faculty entered, that what they'd primarily been waiting for was Coach Johnson himself. The music and the dancing and even the chatter suddenly stopped. Bobby Lane led a resounding round of applause, which the coach acknowledged like a smiling falsely modest politician. He then made a speech quite similar to the speech he'd made a short while earlier in his office. Then the music and dancing resumed.
Still conscious of the effects of the alcohol she'd imbibed, Barbara went to the punch bowl and filled her glass, then milled around among the students and faculty. Several very hard rock songs played, than a ballad began and the coach came to claim his dance. Aware that a considerable amount of attention was being focused on her, the supple young blonde let the coach take her lightly in his arms. Though he was slightly awkward on the dance floor she followed him easily enough. It seemed that his dancing was supposed to be meant as an example rather than a means of entertaining himself or her. He held his body just away from Barbara's his face almost but not quite touched her cheek, and he still took her left hand in his own rather than wrapping both his hands around her body, as couples in Barbara's younger age group were prone to do.
Then their dance ended. The coach stepped back and gave a slight bow and thanked her. There was more brief hand-clapping from some of the students standing around, including, Barbara noted, most of the starting line-up of the football team. She saw Bobby smiling at her, again leading the applause which she knew was for the coach rather than herself, yet now she smiled warmly back at him, remarking to herself that in spite of his less than exemplary behavior in class she did have to admit that he was going to be a very handsome young man. Then Barbara was distracted by a tug at her wrist and as she turned she found Sonny looking up at her face.
"Miss Wilkens? Can I have the next dance please."
For a moment Barbara almost lost her composure. The coach was still standing just beside her, virtually the whole student body was looking on, and here was this young boy who in a momentary fit of delirium she'd performed an illicit and unspeakable sex act with, asking her to dance. Then, managing to stifle the gasp that had almost risen in her throat, she forced a smile to her lips and shook her head.
"No thanks, Sonny. That's kind of you to ask but I really don't think it would be proper for us to dance. Why don't you go find one of the girls and . . . "
"Bull!" the coach's voice cut in. "There's nothing improper about you dancing with
Sonny, or with any of the players either." He grinned as Barbara looked at him again with surprise. "Heck, it's not like you're old enough to be their mother or something. And I bet you're young enough you can really dance to this stuff they play. Go on, give her a whirl Sonny Boy."
Before Barbara could offer further protest the coach gave her a slight shove on the small of her back and she was almost pushed into the youngster's eager arms. He wrapped his hands tightly around her back, hugging his body warm against her, and as he started to awkwardly guide her across the floor Barbara felt compelled to push his small trembling body back to a respectable distance away from her won, soliciting a raucous burst of laughter from Bobby and his bunch. Then, as soon as that dance ended and another faster song began, Barbara felt another strange hand take hers from behind. She turned to find Bobby looking at her with a friendly confident smile. She smiled back, shrugged, and began to undulate and gyrate her body in a sensuous teasing rhythm to the music as Bobby danced for all the world like a British rock star before her. Only out of the corner of her eye did Barbara notice Sonny moving disconsolately away, almost slinking.
From then on the night went almost too fast. Barbara danced with one boy after another. At the encouragement of both the faculty and the students, she really let herself go, showing even the pep squad girls some things they didn't know about modern dance. But though she shared herself freely, dancing with anyone who asked, it was Bobby whom she found as her most frequent and most compatible partner, and gradually her original opinion of him changed from down-right dislike and mistrust to a liking and sense of real rapport with him.
On several occasions Barbara's eyes would meet Sonny's. He was watching her continuously, and obviously sulking. She tried to smile at him and he merely scowled, then, still feeling loose from the bourbon she'd drunk in Coach Johnson's office, she returned her attention to her dancing. She went through several more partners and again found herself with Bobby. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sonny's face redden bitterly. Then a new song began, a slow ballad. Bobby took her in his arms, pulling her body gently to his own. For a few brief moments Barbara forgot herself completely. She lay her cheek softly against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around his back, her breasts snuggled warmly against his chest. She felt, in that brief span of time, as if she had come back home, as if all the strangeness and the barriers between her and the world around her had fallen, and she was again at one with her surroundings. She was in the arms of a man, even if he was only sixteen years old, and her body was responding naturally and without inhibition to the warm and secure embrace.
Then for some reason she opened her eyes and found herself staring straight into the wounded eyes of Sonny Wilkins. He was glaring back at her with a look of hatred and resentment the likes of which she'd rarely ever seen, and never on a face so young. She seemed trapped, fixed in his gaze. Then Bobby started to turn her on the dance floor, and as she followed his lead she saw Sonny pivot and start away toward the front entrance of the gym. He looked back at her once, his eyes menacing. Then he was gone out the door.
Bobby was still holding her firmly in his strong young arms. His body brushed hers smoothly, seemingly without conscious effort on his part. But the trembling that suddenly possessed her supple young body derived more from nervousness or outright fear than the excitement building smoothly through her loins and breasts. The look on Sonny's face lingered hauntingly in her mind, and her realization of the delicate situation she was in gripped her like an icy hand. Sonny was possessed of information that, if exposed, could place her in the most serious predicament she'd ever been in in her life. Her teaching career would be ruined and she might even find herself subject to criminal prosecution. She had just rejected and humiliated him, and suddenly she feared that in spite of the difficulties telling on her would pose for him, he might be just angry and bitter enough to want to expose her at all cost. She realized that after what she'd done to him the previous Sunday night, he probably couldn't imagine that her dancing with Bobby and the rest of the football team was just innocent fun.
Barbara let the young quarterback guide her several more steps across the floor. Then she stopped, gently disengaging herself from his arms.
"I.. . I want to step out and get a breath of fresh air," Barbara stammered as the handsome youngster studied her sultry, now worried face. "W-wait here. I'll be right back."
She bit her lip nervously, then pushed past him and made her way across the gymnasium through the dancing couples to the door, where science teacher Edmond Talbert was enjoying a cigarette.
"Just getting some fresh air," Barbara explained as she brushed past him. She hurried along the sidewalk that flanked the auditorium, crossed through the arcade and emerged onto the mall before the front of the building. After a moment she spotted Sonny's shadowy figure, walking quickly across the lawn toward the corner of the campus. "Sonny!" she called, starting hurriedly down the mall. He glanced back, then continued. She stumbled after him and called his name again just as he reached the sidewalk that bounded the school's front lawn. Now he stopped, standing almost in front of Bobby's blue pick-up. He waited, looking back at her. Then when she was halfway across the lawn he turned suddenly and continued along the sidewalk. "Sonny, Sonny, wait!" she called at the top of her lungs. She followed, half-walking, half at a run. She reached the sidewalk and started down it just as Sonny was crossing the street at the corner. He stopped again and looked back, then continued. And Barbara walked several more paces before she stopped suddenly.
She was standing directly in front of Bobby's pick-up parked against the curb. Next to it was the new Chevrolet Darrel Clayton's father, who owned the local sawmill, had bought him for his eighteenth birthday. Music was blaring from the tape-deck in the vehicle, loud in spite of the fact that the windows were rolled up. But that wasn't what had attracted the troubled young blonde's attention.
A single bare leg, a girl's leg, was sticking up from the backseat of the car, the bare foot planted against the rear window. The sight was somehow so incongruous that for a moment Barbara couldn't take her eyes off it. She imagined, absurdly, that the owner of that sensuous lovely brown thigh had gotten into the car bottom side upwards, and she stared through narrowed eyes at the gently jerking of the bare, tapered limb. Then slowly she stepped down off the sidewalk, moving up alongside the car. And as she peered through the window into the backseat the sight that greeted her almost caused the shocked young blonde to pass out on her feet.
The leg belonged to head-cheerleader Sandy Black, who was generally considered to be one of the best looking girls in the school. Up until recently, she'd been dating Bobby, though she was a senior and he was only a junior. But now it looked like she'd given up Bobby for good. She lay on her back in the rear-seat of the car, the one leg planted up over the top of the seat, her other leg sprawled on the floor-board. Her skirt was bunched up about her waist and her panties were nowhere to be seen. Kneeling on the seat, bent over between her wide-parted thighs, was the young owner of the automobile. And the act he was performing was the vilest spectacle the young teacher had ever beheld in her life.
Darrel's face was buried flush against the brunette cheerleader's exposed and defenseless loins. Her hands were entwined in his hair and she was holding his face to her cunt as if she would like to swallow him up. But Darrel hardly seemed to be resisting. He was going after her naked little vagina like it was a plate of strawberry shortcake. He was eating her pussy, sucking and tonguing it with a subservience and effort that almost defied belief.
Aghast, Barbara stared through the window, the horribly swinish scene momentarily blotting all else from her mind. It was awful. The depravity of it was beyond comprehension, and yet the girl lying on her back in the car seemed to be enjoying it like nothing else in the world. Her whole body was squirming and writhing like a sex-crazed heathen, her face contorted with lust, her head flailing from side to side on the seat of the car.
Her whole body trembling in vicarious physical identification with the girl being orally ravished in the automobile, it took all Barbara's strength for her to jerk her eyes away from the compelling and lascivious spectacle. Then she noticed that Sonny had stopped again on the other side of the street that bounded the side of the campus. She was about to make a move to go after him when the song on the tape-deck ended and the hard-driving rock music was suddenly replaced by a cat-like wailing, the words of which became only gradually intelligible to her ears:
"Oh eat me, Darrel! Eat my cunt. Deeper! Tongue it deeper!"
She stared back through the window of the car, an unwanted flutter coursing through her loins at the thought of what Darrel was doing to the girl. God, it was worse than what she had done to Sonny the other day. There seemed now to Barbara in her muddled mental state something as perversely unnatural for a man to be licking and sucking a woman down there as it was naturally perverse for a woman to suck off a man. She couldn't even work it out in her mind, but it was just too depraved and, completely forgetting her lost evening with Greg, she thought she would die of the sheer shame of it all if she were ever subjected to such a thing herself. But with all her revulsion she was nonetheless entranced and again she had to fight to jerk her eyes away toward the corner where Sonny, just at that moment, was turning slump-shouldered away from her and starting on off down the street.
Then she heard the faint crackle of footsteps in the gravel behind her. Over her shoulder she saw that Bobby had just stepped off the curb. And before she could even turn to face him he was upon her, his hands going around her waist to pull her back against him, the tell-tale hard bulge in his trousers pushing right up between her buttocks.
"Oh suck it, suck it!" Sandy Black chanted banshee-like in the car. Down the street Barbara could' still see Sonny, walking swiftly away though he was looking back over his shoulder at her and Bobby. And behind her Bobby's pelvis was pressed hard against the cheeks of her ass. His strong arms were still tight around her, his hands now moving up to cup tightly over the rounded swells of her breasts. And the warmth of his breath on the sensitive back of her neck was causing undeniable little chills to dart relentlessly down her spine. And though she struggled silently, she couldn't get away, and again in spite of herself she let her eyes drift back to the shocking scene taking place in the back of the car.
"Oh please Bobby," Barbara whispered under her breath, her hands coming up to seize and tug at his wrists. "Let me go. Let me go before they see us."
"Before they see us?" Bobby chuckled into her ear. "Why shouldn't they. We can see them."
"But.. . " Barbara turned her head to look pleadingly over her shoulder, and the moment she did the handsome, mature-looking youngster pressed his lips hard over hers, his tongue forcing its way deep into her mouth in spite of all her efforts to resist. At the same time he was beginning a gentle movement of his buttocks against her hips, working the hard shaft of his cock tenting up like a pole in his trousers rhythmically against the crack between the tight-clenched cheeks of her ass.
Then almost violently she jerked her head back around, and now she was even more appalled at what she saw in the car. While Bobby had kissed her Darrel Clayton had shifted around in the car seat, straddling now at reverse-directions over the half-naked girl beneath him. Now his enormous cock was protruding lewdly free from the crotch of his trousers, poised right over the excited young cheerleader's lustfully ovaled lips. She was holding his turgid cock in her hand, bending it down so that it pointed right at her face even as Darrel continued his licking and sucking up between her scissoring thighs. And as Barbara gasped in disbelief, the girl lifted her head willingly off the car seat to take the thickly distended penis right into the open hollow of her mouth.
"Ooooh," Barbara groaned as Bobby's hands continued to maul over the lush young swells of her breasts, the friction of her brassiere-cups rubbing back and forth over her nipples causing little tremors of unwanted delight to course maddeningly out over her flesh. "Let me go. Let's both go . . . back inside."
"We got plenty of time," Bobby said. "And they're just getting started too."
He kissed her on the back of her neck, then he bit her, so hard it was everything she could do to keep from screaming aloud. And letting that serve as a distraction, he dropped one of his hands down from her breasts to seize the hem of her skirt, tugging it up her thighs almost to the tight leg-bands of her panties before his hand covered suddenly full over the lust-heated plane of her thinly haired little cunt.
A ravishing shock of delight rippled along Barbara's thighs as the youngster's loins ground again hard against her buttocks, now naked except for her flimsy little panties. She was still struggling with all her might and yet she felt powerless in his strong grasp and in spite of herself almost thankful for her inability to resist. Then she shuddered as she felt him slip one of his fingers slowly between her thighs from the front, pulling aside the tight elastic crotch band that was the only thing left to protect her already lustfully heated little cunt.
"Oh please," Barbara whimpered, squirming her buttocks back in retreat from the finger prodding up between her thighs, searching through the sparse moist hairs that lined her burning little vaginal lips. Then an even more violent shudder racked her body as Bobby's probing finger made sudden delicious contact with the throbbing nub of her clitoris. He stroked the tiny bud to fully pulsing rigidity even as the near-panicked blonde school teacher continued to struggle to free herself from his grasp. Then her legs almost collapsed beneath her as Bobby fingered back down along her hair-lined cunt lips, parting the warm moist folds of her flesh, and he inserted his plundering finger straight up into her warm little pussy.
Barbara sucked her breath in hoarsely, trying to hold back the groan of pleasure building in her breast. There was nothing she could do to escape and tears of shame spilled from her eyes as she found herself reacting involuntarily to the teasing caress of her vagina. For a moment she did let her body go completely limp in Bobby's arms. Then, thinking she'd surrendered to him completely, the athletic young boy relaxed his own grip on her trembling form.
Considered in the light of what was to happen later, Barbara's sudden decisive effort at defense can only be to her credit. In spite of her lust-inspired state of delirium the moaning blonde saw her chance and almost reflexively she seized the wrist of the hand wedged between her thighs, shoving it downward so Bobby's middle finger slipped with a sucking pop from her moistly heated little cunt.
And before Bobby could move to regain his hold on her she was free, running as fast as she could away down the sidewalk.
CHAPTER SIX
Almost blind with shame and inner rage at what had occurred, Barbara stumbled along, the sidewalk in the dark of the night. After she'd run nearly two full blocks she looked back over her shoulder and was surprised to see that she wasn't being chased. Then, panting to catch her breath, she slowed to a walk. Her mind was a jumble of confused and conflicting images and she didn't know when she'd felt so helpless in her life. She couldn't rid herself of the vision of those two teenagers she'd watched as they performed simultaneous fellatio and cunnilingus in the back of the car. Her flesh still tingled from the feel of Bobby's hands mauling over her tender flesh, and the wetness up between her thighs from forcible invasion of his finger into her helpless loins reminded her of the shameless way her treacherous body had responded. And all the time lingering in the back of her mind was the guilt and horror and anxiety that had first driven her to leave the gym and go after Sonny. She knew he must have run from her only because he'd seen that Bobby was following her, and she knew that after the way she'd hurt him tonight there was not a way in the world she could be sure that he would keep their secret to himself.
Barbara continued hurriedly to the corner of Main Street. She crossed it hurriedly, aware of several catcalls from the doorway of one of the bars, then descended on toward the refuge of her duplex. She was just two blocks from home when she heard the pick-up engine and the sound of tires squealing as the vehicle rounded the corner behind her. Framed in the bright headlights, Barbara turned and stared like a wild animal frozen in headlights on a road as Bobby's Ford pick-up hurtled toward her. Then the vehicle came to a halt beside her on the street and she noted with slight surprise that its owner was alone. As she stood still, staring through the window on the passenger side, the handsome youngster leaned over and opened the door.
"Get in Miss Halperin. I'll take you for a ride."
"No," Barbara said in a voice that sounded strange and from far away. But she made no move to flee. She stood, paralyzed by everything that had happened to her, fear almost stifling her breath, the lust Bobby's lewd mauling of her flesh and the obscene spectacle she'd just witnessed had instilled in her still raging completely out of control through her passion-soaked loins.
"Come on. I'm not going to hurt you. And I want to talk to you."
"What. . . about?"
Bobby hesitated for a moment, the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips before he said: "Sonny."
"Sonny?" Barbara thought the fear in her voice should have only confirmed any suspicion the boy might already have had about her and Sonny Wilkens. She stared in terror at his handsome, confident face, then like a sacrificial slave walking to slaughter she stepped forward and climbed up into the cab of the truck. Bobby leaned over toward her and put the vehicle in gear, then eased off the clutch and it lurched forward.
Stiff and breathless, Barbara sat silent as he drove down the street past her house, then took a left onto a gravel road which led out of town and into a now dark and dense-looking forest of second growth redwoods. The terrain was rough, hilly, the road narrow and winding, and Bobby took the corners fast but with a skill and obvious familiarity which made it seem he was running almost on a track. They rode for perhaps five minutes before either of them said anything, then at last Barbara broke the silence:
"If Coach Johnson misses us both at the same time . . . "
"Yeah? What?"
"He's going to suspect something."
Bobby grinned. She saw it in the lights of the dash. "Why would he suspect anything? And what?"
Barbara realized the indiscretion of her remark. "I mean.. . after what happened last year, with that other teacher. And then tonight, you and I were . . . even if it was an accident.. . "
"Yeah," Bobby chuckled. "That was just an accident, hunh?"
Barbara didn't bother to answer. They drove another short distance in silence, then
Bobby said: "Sonny has the hots for you."
"What?" Barbara gasped, incredulous at the bluntly shocking remark.
"You saw him. He's really got it bad. I think you could help him!"
"Help him?" the frightened blonde ventured cautiously, realizing for the first time that perhaps Bobby didn't suspect anything untoward had actually happened between her and the youngster they were discussing.
"Old Miss Priddy tried but she couldn't do any good. But you're different. He really digs you. See? Sonny's sensitive. He couldn't do it with just any girl, but I saw the way he was looking at you. And he really does need help."
"Help with what?"
"Don't play dumb? He needs a woman to break him in and show him the score. You could do it."
"Why . . . " For a moment Barbara thought she'd almost lost her voice from her sheer indignation at what Bobby was suggesting. "If you think I'm the kind of woman who would . . . who would seduce an innocent boy like Sonny," she began, realizing immediately the hypocrisy in what she said.
"Come on, Miss Halperin. Don't go virginal on me, I'm the guy who was back there feeling you up while you were window peeping on
Darrel and Sandy in the car. Remember?"
"Why you little heathen!" Barbara hissed, her shame and anger almost getting the best of her.
Then they crossed a small rise, rounded a corner, and suddenly beside the road appeared a small open plot of land. Bobby swung onto the flat parking area and cut the engine, turning quickly in the seat to face the lovely, now completely rattled young blonde.
His eyes roved over her soft sensuously curved body, hungrily taking in her lushly inviting breasts, slender waist, her long shapely thighs outlined in her skirt falling teasingly down between them. Then he abruptly opened the door on his side and climbed out of the cab.
Stunned beyond capacity to cope with the bizarre situation in which she found herself, Barbara looked back through the rear windshield as Bobby moved around to the bed of the pick-up. She blinked as she saw him remove a tightly rolled sleeping bag, then continue on around the truck to her side. And her heartbeat frantically hastened as she saw him unroll the bag and spread it out on the dirt. Then before she'd completely grasped what was about to happen, he opened the door on her side and pulled her forcibly out of the cab.
Barbara's legs felt weak as rubber and the whole world seemed to be spinning in some kind of crazy spiral as she let herself be pushed suddenly and almost violently down onto the bag. She went without resistance, mortified by combined fear and shame and an unwanted excitement stirring anew up between her thighs. She lay sprawled on her side on the soft downy pallet, her skirt pulled halfway up her thighs, her hair hanging loose and wanton over her cheeks and shoulders almost to her heaving breasts. Her eyes were wide, like the eyes of a frightened animal, and her breathing was coming in loud audible gasps as she waited to see what the aggressive and athletic youngster would do next Then she moaned deeply as he came down slowly onto his knees beside her, reaching with both his hands to turn her face up toward his own.
Bobby stared with relish into Barbara's frightened eyes for a brief exquisite moment. Then suddenly he bent over and kissed her full on the lips, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth as she let her body again go almost limp, accepting his kiss and hoping only that her body wouldn't betray her with response.
The experienced sixteen year old waited until he sensed the school teacher starting to give in, then he dropped his hand down to the hem of her skirt, pulling it slowly up her thighs until it was again almost to the leg-bands of her panties. At first she offered no resistance whatsoever, then as he reached his hand between her thighs, stroking up along one of the taut inner tendons toward the desire-moistened plane of her cunt, something seemed to snap. Her body stiffened, her hands were suddenly fighting to push him away from her and to yank down her skirt. She drew her face back from his with an angry shake of her head, kicking and pitching as though in a fit upon the ground.
"Leave me alone!" she hissed. "Take me home right now, you little juvenile delinquent. Who do you think I am anyway?"
Barbara continued to kick and thrash on the sleeping bag for a couple of seconds longer. Then suddenly Bobby seized both her wrists, pulling her down to a prone position on her back and pinning them above her head, the weight of his strong young body coming down heavily on hers so that she could hardly even move. At last, realizing she could never overpower him when he was on top of her holding her like this, she let her head fall back to the softness of the bag. She sighed and lay still, panting and looking up wild-eyed at the boy on top of her.
Bobby leaned again toward Barbara's face.
He grinned, then said softly: "I'm about to show you exactly who you are. All right?"
"Noooooo," Barbara moaned as she realized the double meaning of the remark. She didn't need this teenager to tell her who she was. She knew already, even if the entity she had become the last few weeks still didn't have a name in her mind. But she knew she was vile, evil, shameful and immoral, and she'd learned all too well that only a certain amount of force was required to bring those despicable qualities to blossom.
Her arms still pinned helplessly above her head by the vise-grip of one of Bobby's hands, Barbara shook her head from side to side in useless protest as the athletic youngster's other hand moved back down to cup over the high-arched mounds of her breasts. Then her eyes opened even wider as his hand swept quickly lower, seizing the hem of her skirt and jerking it suddenly completely up off her lushly molded buttocks, bunching it uselessly up around her waist like the skirt of the young girl she'd watched the other boy eat out in the back seat of his car a short time ago. Then Bobby's hand grasped the waistband of her panties and as she again began to buck and struggle beneath him he pulled them down off her buttocks, completely exposing the golden triangle of the hair of her cunt.
"No please!" Barbara whimpered, straining to free her pinioned arms with all her strength. She felt her panties stretched by her thighs, held far apart by the position of Bobby's knees between them. Then suddenly the young boy gave another violent jerk and the silken little garment tore with a loud ripping sound, leaving her completely naked below the waist, still as helplessly pinned down as if she'd been strapped to a torturer's rack.
Barbara's entire half-naked body was tightened with fear and lust as Bobby Lane arched his body up slightly and gazed down at he naked belly and defenseless loins. She felt completely stretched apart by the wide-set position of his knees. There was nothing she could do to defend herself and she knew she was going to really be raped this time, not just a kind of half make-belief game she'd played with Greg the time before. And yet in spite of all her horror and indignation, she derived a certain secret enjoyment from her knowledge that she couldn't get away if she tried, and she was unable to quell a low moan of masochistic anticipation as Bobby reached down to unbuckle and unzip his Levi's, jerking them almost violently down off his hips so that the full man-sized erection of his already rock-hard penis sprang suddenly to freedom.
He took his thick cock in his hand, stroking the foreskin up and down several times over the purplish swollen cock-head in an intentionally vulgar gesture.
"No, please don't do it," Barbara whimpered as much out of duty to her own self-respect as anything else. Her sheer helplessness was exciting her beyond anything she'd ever known in her life and her pussy juices were flowing freely in anticipation of the initial contact of this rock-hard shaft of cock-flesh poised just inches away from her defenselessly quivering vaginal lips.
Then without further hesitation Bobby used his knees to spread her thighs out even farther on the sleeping bag, at the same time levering up onto her body to guide the pulsing head of his cock straight up into the soft hair-lined furrow of the entrance of her cunt. For a moment he held his menacing cock poised there, the sheer masculine fury that seemed to emit from his hot rod of flesh causing Barbara's whole body to shudder from the inherent threat of pain and promise of incomparable joy.
Then he took a deep breath and rammed forward.
"Aaggghhhhh!" the pinioned blonde cried out from the increase of pressure. She squirmed her buttocks fearfully down into the softness of the bag in retreat, but the excited teenager showed her no mercy, thrusting again and again until the knob-like head of his throbbing cock was wedged right between the burning lips of her cunt, and his prodigious instrument began to worm itself slowly up inside her warmly spasming vagina. His thick male cudgel pushed the soft inner tissues aside like flimsy veils, skewering relentlessly deeper and deeper until with a sudden lurch, Barbara felt it slam against her cervix and the boy's sperm-swollen balls slapped heavily down into the wide-stretched crack of her ass.
"Ooh! Aaaaahhhhh!" she cried out, realizing the initial penetration was finally completed. She had only once in her life taken a man's penis inside her pussy, and the little orifice was still virginally tight, the warm walls of her secret flesh closing like a glove around his flexing cock so that she could feel every ridge and ripple of it. And though it did not hurt nearly as much now as it had the first time, the pain was an ever compelling presence, tempering, balancing, or even augmenting the little flutters of compensatory pleasure that darted out through her loins as Bobby began quickly to move.
"Oh easy!" Barbara gasped, her body again going limp as she felt his rigid male hardness start to piston rhythmically in and out of her still unaccustomed vaginal opening. But the worst of the pain was past now and her legs had begun a gentle spontaneous scissoring open and closed around the teenager's impaling shaft of flesh. Her body was beginning to come to life. She'd completely ceased to struggle or resist and though she knew what she was doing could only lead to her damnation, she could no longer help herself. She was being fucked. She was being fucked again, and that, she now realized, was exactly what she'd been waiting for ever since that first night Greg had taken her.
Lewd flames of desire were coursing through Barbara's veins as she began a slow undulating movement of her buttocks on the sleeping bag. She became aware belatedly that Bobby had released his grip on her wrists, and she felt his hands moving down beneath her body to clasp her nakedly rounded ass-cheeks, guiding her movements as he quickened the tempo of his own now violently racking thrusts. Mewls of animalistic acceptance issued in torrents from her lips and her lovely face contorted with passion as again the young boy dropped his lips to hers, kissing her brutally on the mouth, his tongue searching inside her mouth as though it would reach all the way to her throat.
"Oh yes, God, yes Bobby. Fuck me! Fuck me!" Barbara pleaded in unrestrained submission as the boy again raised his head up to look down and observe the final surrender mirrored in her face. One of his hands reached up between her thighs from behind to fondle at the soft hair-lined lips of her cunt milking hungrily at his rampaging cock. Her vagina was flowering open, the soft inner walls clasping and spasming with glove-like insistence as though she wanted to swallow his plunging cock all the way to her stomach.
Then suddenly Bobby quickened the tempo of his shattering lunges, racking her body with the intensity of his skewering thrusts. He slipped his hands down behind her knees, lifting up to jackknife them almost to her shoulders so that the naked plane of her vagina was wide open to the pile-driving thrusts of his rigid cock deep up into her quivering inner cunt.
"Oh! Ooooooh," Barbara wailed beneath him. He was pounding her mercilessly with his body, his hands searching and tearing hungrily at her softly perspiring flesh, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of her shoulders and the tingling nipples of her breasts as he moved into a staccato rhythm that almost caused her mind to go blank. She panted and writhed as his cock continued to skewer into her like a ravaging animal, hurting her even with all the pleasure it gave, causing her skin to tingle from the tips of her toes to the top of her flailing head. It was like a dream, a heavenly nightmare. It was something she'd never known in her life, this mind blurring ecstasy washing in waves out from her ravished loins. Then, in a brief moment of delirious illumination, she realized what it was that was actually taking place.
She was cumming. She was deriving an orgasm from this cruel and brutal rape of her supple young flesh, and as she continued to jerk and buck against the savagely fucking teenager she felt his cock grow huge and began suddenly to pump his hot thick sperm far up into her quivering belly. The great searing droplets splattered into her in a seemingly endless torrent, mixing with the fluids of her own freely flowing orgasm deep inside her as the surreal sensations continued to course maddeningly over her flesh.
Then at last her legs went limp, twitching convulsively as she lay them back down to the sleeping bag. Her heart was still pounding frenziedly and for the first few moments she hardly even knew where she was. She lay moaning in an ecstasy of satisfaction, her whole body still jerking in gentle little spasms.
Then Bobby withdrew his now flaccid penis, and she suddenly opened her eyes, tears filling them as she realized the seriousness of what had just happened.
He had raped her, really raped her, but she had loved it.. . she had loved every minute of it!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Barbara slept fitfully that night, drifting in and out of erotic dreams and nightmares. She woke Sunday morning, remembering with a sudden surge of anxiety and remorse the wonderful terrible events of the night before. And she knew she was lost. It had happened and it could not be erased, and if there'd been a chance in the world Sonny would keep secret the fact that she had seduced him and sucked him off until he came in her mouth, she knew she could never hope for as much from Bobby. He would tell. It was inevitable. And it seemed to Barbara that her only logical course of action would be to get up right now and pack and catch the bus back to San Francisco, then send her letter of resignation from there.
She knew that was the thing to do, and yet she did not do it. Instead she stayed, as people will sometimes stay in their homes and perish rather than flee a war or some natural disaster. She stayed because, even not admitting her motives to herself, she had loved what had happened to her and she knew that sooner or later that, or something even better, would happen again. In Bobby Lane she felt she had discovered a real man, the first real man she had ever known in spite of the fact that he was only sixteen years of age. He had fucked her, and not only had he had the courage to fuck her, he had given her an orgasm. And that was more than anyone else had ever done.
On Monday morning she got up and went to school with a mingling of dread and burning anticipation. She knew not what the day would have in store for her; she was prepared, somehow, for almost anything . . . and nothing happened. It was like any other day at Hatfieldville High. She taught her classes, had her lunch with her unsuspecting fellow faculty members, listened to a few special problems some of her students brought to her after class, and put up with the usual amount of nonsense from the most mischievous of her students. Bobby looked at her in a slightly different way, with a kind of intimacy, as though they shared a secret that belonged only to the two of them. But they were private glances, meant she knew for no one but her.
That afternoon when she left school and walked home alone Barbara felt a combination of relief and disappointment, disappointment she then attributed to the fact that the humiliating confrontation and exposure she'd thought was imminent was being postponed. The following day was no different, with one notable exception. Sonny, who had during the last several school days become sullen and moody, began again to participate in class.
And so it went. By Wednesday Barbara was almost in a state of euphoria. She began to believe that somehow she might have been spared. She had committed her wrongs, she had been prepared to pay the price, just as her predecessor Dorothy Priddy had paid. Now she was beginning to wonder if she hadn't miraculously been given a second chance. It was of course an unrealistic dream. But she clung to it, as a condemned murderer might cling to the dream of last minute pardon.
The big topic of conversation that week around both the school and the town was Friday night's game with the neighboring town of Hastings. Hastings and Hatfieldville, she learned, had a long history of rivalry and even enmity, where football was concerned. For several years Hastings dominated both Hatfieldville and most of the other teams in the area. Two years ago Hatfieldville had eked out an upset. Last season Hatfieldville had been the hands-down favorite, and they had lost in a game marred by poor sportsmanship on both sides. This year local sports writers were calling the teams evenly matched in spite of the awesome reputation of The Four Horsemen. School spirit was riding high.
Thursday night was the night of the traditional Hastings-game pep rally and bonfire behind the gymnasium. Not only the school but most of the town turned out for the occasion. The bonfire was enormous, the pep talks and shouting and speeches on the part of the coach and the stars of the team reminiscent, in Barbara's mind at least, of Nazi rallies in Munich in the 1930's. There was a madness in the air, a madness that was contagious in the sheer mass energy it engendered in the universal consciousness of the town. It was contagious even to Barbara, who found herself participating avidly in the yells. And at least it served as a break in her routine of lonely nights. Since Bobby Lane had so cruelly ravished and raped her defenselessly responding young body, her nights had become even more unbearable than before. Sometimes she lay awake almost till dawn, tormented by the exquisite heartbreaking memories of those few moments of forbidden ecstasy she had known once and had begun to fear she would never know again.
The pep rally lasted until about ten o'clock, then Coach Johnson announced its end, admonishing the team members to go home and get a good night's rest, admonishing the townspeople to go home and pray to God for victory. Barbara stood listening to this final anticlimactic speech in the flickering orange light of the dying bonfire, her eyes wondering over the crowd to seek out the face of Bobby Lane, standing with the other three backfielders and Darrel Clayton just behind the coach. Then Burt Johnson finished and she felt a faint twinge of disappointment as she saw the youngster who had so violently raped her turn without a glance in her direction and walk, with his entourage, off the field toward his pick-up. She sighed, also turning to start back to her house, when she was startled by the hesitant voice at her back: "Hello Miss Halperin. I was wondering if I could walk you home?" Barbara looked down with surprise at the hopeful face of Sonny Wilkens. "Just to the door," he added quickly.
Barbara hesitated for a moment, glad for the company, any company, yet placed naturally on the defensive after what had happened last Saturday at the dance. But Sonny seemed during the last few days to have forgiven her, and this would perhaps give her an opportunity to re-establish a rapport with the teenager of whom she'd once been so fond. Then she smiled, warmly, looking tenderly down into his eyes.
"Yes Sonny. I'd be very happy to have you walk me home. To the door."
Together they walked around the corner of the gymnasium and started down the street. It was a clear comfortable night. There was a feeling of lingering excitement and movement in the town, deriving perhaps simply from the movement of the automobiles of the townspeople driving home from the rally, and hardly a word was exchanged between the teacher and her young student until after they'd crossed Main Street and were descending the last couple of blocks to her place. Then hesitantly Sonny broke the comfortable silence.
"I guess I acted like a real idiot Saturday night."
"Oh no, Sonny," Barbara said quickly, wanting to smooth that over as much as possible. "You're . . . your attitude was understandable."
"I was just jealous I guess. I thought, after what had happened-"
"Sonny," Barbara interrupted. "I don't want you to talk about that."
"No. I want to tell you what's on my mind," Sonny said resolutely. "After what.. . what happened, I guess I got to feeling that I had some special . . . hold on you. Then when I saw you with Bobby. Bobby has everything . . . so many women. He's the football star and everything. And for him to take you away from me, I just couldn't stand it."
"Bobby didn't take me.. . away from you," Barbara stammered in exasperation.
Now they were but half a block from her place, and Sonny walked the greater part of that distance in silence, speaking again only as they were crossing Mr. Gladstone's driveway:
"I know. I understand. Bobby and I had a long talk about you the next day."
A spontaneous gasp rose in Barbara's throat, and when she spoke it was with a cracked and quivering voice. "You had a talk about me?"
"Yeah. Bobby told me what had happened, and how he'd talked to you about me and my . . . problem. And of course I told him how.. . you know . . . what you had done for me . . . "
"Sonny!" Barbara whimpered, a tightness constricting in her throat. "You told him about . . . about that? And he told you . . . about.. . ? "
They were crossing her yard, ascending the steps. Barbara was walking on wobbly legs and she felt in her shock almost severed from her own salaciously excited body. She realized but vaguely that during these last few days she'd been living in a dream, deluded, unable to face the facts of life. And this now was the beginning of the end, the end to which she'd been resigned and then somehow imagined she'd escaped.
"So I was thinking maybe . . . , " Sonny went on, "how you sort of told Bobby you would really help me out. I was thinking maybe we could do it tonight?"
"I didn't tell Bobby anything of the sort," Barbara gasped, looking down wide-eyed at the self-confident youngster. "So you go, now. You go home right now and I.. . I will just.. . leave here . . . tomorrow."
"No," Sonny said. Then he opened the door, which Barbara had not even bothered to lock before going out, and walked ahead of her into the house.
Dazed, Barbara followed him down the darkened hell. She saw his silhouette framed in the doorway of the living room. She was reaching for the light, but Sonny reached first for her, his hands going up around her, his body pressing awkwardly against her breasts. He bounced onto his tiptoes, kissing her hungrily on the lips as his hands moved down to seize the tight-clenched half-moons of her ass-cheeks from the outside of her skirt, pulling her loins urgently against his grinding pelvis so that she was acutely aware of the lust-bloated hardness of his cock grinding right against her pubic mound on the outside of her dress.
"Ooooh," Barbara purred in spontaneous reflex to the physical sensations darting through her loins from the teasing contact. For a moment she let herself respond naturally in spite of the horror and shame that gripped her. She felt Sonny's hands tearing at her clothing, jerking the tails of her blouse up out of her skirt and starting to lift the skirt itself up off the panty-clad half moons of her ass. Then something in her snapped, as it always did, and in a sudden violent motion she pushed Sonny away from her, pulling her skirt back down and retreating a couple of steps back into the hall. "No, Sonny," she said in a trembling voice. "I'm not going to do it. I'm not. And you're not strong enough to force me the way Bobby did."
Panting like a cornered animal, Barbara stood in the darkness staring at Sonny's shadowy form. Then she sucked her breath in in a hoarse gasp, stepped forward and reached to the inside of the door-facing to switch on the light. Then she almost fainted at what she saw.
Seated around the room, on the couch and in the easy chair and the straight-backed chairs at the dining table were Bobby Lane, Danny Morrow, Jimmy Crane and Tommy Howard. The Four Horsemen!
Barbara felt as if she could have passed out right there on the spot from the shocking sight of the four eagerly leering teenagers, staring at her with their hungry animal-like eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. And it was then that it came to her, vaguely, from somewhere far in the back of her mind:
War. Pestilence. Famine. Death.
The original Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, out of The Revelation. And Barbara didn't think now that she could have felt any more helpless and vulnerable if it had been those four mounted symbols of human suffering who confronted her right now.
"W-what do you want?" Barbara gasped absurdly, her face pale with fear and shame.
"I think you know," Bobby said with a trace of a smile. "Sort of a matter of team spirit. One for all and all for one. Like the Three Musketeers. And we figured Sonny deserved a share too since he missed out on Miss Priddy."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Barbara croaked. "I want you to get out of here right now. I don't know what you're talking about."
"We're talking about gang-bang, Miss Halperin," said Danny Morrow.
"Noooooooooo!" Barbara squealed, her sheer sensation of hopelessness causing a lewd masochistic excitement to dart feverishly through her betraying loins and flesh. "Nooooo, you can't do it to me. You can't. I won't let you."
Mortified by shock and fear, Barbara watched the two boys stand up and walk slowly toward her. She knew she could not escape. They had her. Both her terrible secrets had been exposed and by tomorrow certainly the whole school would know every evil thing she had done and had had done to her since she'd come here. But first she had this final humiliation to endure. Yet still she felt obliged to protest.
"You can't do it," she blurted again as the boys moved into a circle around her, Sonny taking her hand to pull her in toward the center of the room. "Tomorrow's the big game with Hastings," she stumbled absurdly on. "You'll . . . you'll wear yourselves out."
"We can handle Hastings this year walking in our sleep," Bobby said flippantly. "But I think you're the one who's going to be worn out before we're through tonight."
Then they were on her. As Barbara stood still and unresisting, immobilized by her shock and fear, the boys tore at her clothing, pawing over her with their hands. She felt completely demoralized and defeated and she knew there was nothing she could do to resist. She stood passively as their fingers moved over the softness of her half-naked flesh and continued to tear at the remaining flimsily concealing garments of her underclothing until she was stripped finally to the nude, and she could do nothing but gaze hopelessly around, trying futilely to shield her breasts and the little golden patch of the hair of her cunt with her hands.
"Who's first?" Danny Morrow asked, starting eagerly to peel the shirt off his own broad muscular shoulders.
"We can take her two at a time if somebody doesn't mind her mouth," said Jimmy Crane.
"Hell, I'll take her mouth," Tommy Howard put in quickly.
"No, I don't want it," Barbara sobbed helplessly as the shocking chatter continued, her eyes glazing as she watched the boys stripping off their own clothing to reveal their athletic naked young bodies. "Please, just let me leave. I'll go. I'll leave town right now, tonight, if you just. . . "
"Sonny's first," said Bobby Lane, putting a sudden halt to conversation.
"You damned right," Sonny said in a voice that was uncharacteristically tough and determined as he stripped off his own shirt to expose his comparatively frail torso and started to remove his trousers. "And a couple of you guys hold her for me, because I want to do it right." Then, a sharp glint coming into his eyes, he looked at Barbara and smiled. "Miss Halperin, have you ever had your pussy eaten?"
"Oh God no!" Barbara sobbed, trembling with shame.
Then suddenly she was being pushed down to the floor, naked on her back. Someone seized her wrists, stretching her arms straight out above her head on the scratchy carpet while two more pairs of hands grabbed her ankles, pulling her thighs out into a spread-eagled posture to completely expose and open the tingling little orifice of her cunt. She was helplessly pinioned, completely open and vulnerable, naked to the bone. There was nothing she could do to resist, and as Sonny, now also naked, dropped suddenly down to his knees between her thighs she couldn't deny the tremors of even further longing shooting out in a wild electric current along her straining inner thighs and over her lightly perspiring flesh.
She was lost in a shocked state of drunken numbness and, through glazed eyes, she stared down at Sonny, looking now almost fearful as he lowered his own face between her loins, his hands moving up to ease her thighs even farther apart before his tongue suddenly flicked from his lips to dance directly down into the soft hairs of her cunt, flicking teasingly over the quivering bud of her clitoris as his fingers moved higher to slowly part the moist gently pulsing little slit until her vagina was completely exposed to his excited gaze. Then with a low groan of lust the blond-haired teenager dropped his head lower and buried the full length of his tongue straight up into the sensitively quivering depths of Barbara's openly flowered cunt.
"Ooohhhhh," the spread-eagled blonde school teacher whimpered in spite of herself, her whole voluptuous body jerking in a sudden tremor from the unwelcome shocks of pleasure purling relentlessly through her belly and loins. "No, please, Sonny," she wailed in a delirium of insincere protest. "You can't. Please don't do it to me. Please don't do it."
Yet even against her will she could already feel the traitorous excitement building through her body until she thought the very nerve-ends of her skin would explode in the searing flames of her desire. Already she was finding it less and less easy to remember that she was being raped against her will. Sonny was drawing the tingling delicate folds of her vagina deep into his mouth, and a low sigh escaped her throat to signal the beginnings of willing submission to the lewd assault.
Smiling in lascivious triumph, Sonny pressed his face lower, pushing his open mouth against the desire-swollen wetness of her cunt, nibbling gently at the erect little bud of her clitoris before again darting his tongue straight up into her burning vaginal opening to prompt a sudden automatic writhing of her hips up from the carpet to meet his slavishly sucking lips.
"Oh God," Barbara whimpered in submission, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room. Her vagina was on fire and as Sonny continued to tongue deeply into the warm moist furrow of flesh her face contorted with passion, her body jerking in frenzied little contortions in its spread-eagled position on the floor. Now all her inhibitions were lost and the lust-demented school teacher groaned in shameless desire, shaking her head from side to side to whip her long golden hair over the softness of her shoulders as her cunt flowered open wider and wider, the fragrant wetness of her passion running in narrow trickles down the sides of the teenager's cheeks.
"Boy, look at Sonny go!" said an anonymous, excited voice.
"Yeah, look at him eat that cunt!" another echoed.
Barbara barely even deciphered their obscene comments. She was completely swept up in the obscene sensation of the lips and tongue sucking and licking gluttonously at her flame-seared little cunt. Her eyes were closed tight, her teeth-gritted, her face contorted with her building lust as she began to buck and writhe even more wildly on the floor. Then suddenly the madly titillating sensation ceased. She opened her eyes, a little cry of frustration escaping her lips, then sighed and sank down in peaceful surrender as she saw Sonny slide quickly up over her body and felt the small, rigidly erected hardness of his cock prodding right up against the lust-tortured lips of her cunt.
"Oh yes," she moaned. "Yes, fuck me, Sonny. Put your cock in my cunt."
After what he'd just been through Sonny hardly needed any further encouragement, and he leaned quickly forward on Barbara's luxuriously naked breasts, positioning his pelvis between her thighs and guiding the swollen head of his rigid cock right up into the entrance of her passion-saturated little cunt. He groaned as he felt her tightly clinging skin close glove-like around it, sucking and pulling hungrily at his erect little phallus, and he skewered it as deep as it would go, his sperm-swollen balls smacking with a thud against the crack between her upturned buttocks before he flexed deeply, then, almost losing control immediately, withdrew and fucked hard up into her again.
"Oooooh," Barbara moaned ecstatically beneath him as the moistly heated inner walls of her vagina slipped wetly over his impaling cock-shaft like a tight-fitting glove. Sonny's slenderly distended cock was racing in and out of her like a rapidly pumping piston, his pelvis grinding down hard onto her straining flesh as she squirmed and tossed beneath him, her bucking movements almost pitching his light young body completely off as the boy intensified his own thrust to a frenzied staccato rhythm.
Then suddenly Sonny groaned, moving into a series of even more violently racking lunges, and Barbara's eyes rolled in her head as she realized what was happening. A moment later she felt his cock stiffen even harder and begin suddenly to spew its white-hot liquid far up into the hidden recesses of her womb. Spurt after spurt of his gushing sticky semen ricocheted against the walls of her expanding passage as she jerked and writhed even more wildly, straining for the release that evaded her. But it was too soon, and even as she continued to buck and thrash beneath him she felt the impending relief slipping relentlessly from her grasp. Then Sonny's weight fell heavily across her continually writhing body and his spent, already rapidly deflating penis began to slither back out of her desperately clenching loins.
"No, oh God no!" Barbara cried out in her unbearable frustration. "Don't stop now. That's not fucking, you little . . .
Her tirade ceased and she looked up through dazed eyes as Sonny rolled off her and sat up, looking shamefully around at his companions. "I guess I loused up," he croaked.
"Oh God," Barbara cried, unable to contain herself. "I want more. I want a real fucking. Bobby. Bobby, come on and give me the real thing."
"Not me," Bobby said. "Tonight's for the other guys first." He paused, looking around as the two youngsters who'd held Barbara's arms and legs released her. "Tommy, you and Jimmy go ahead. One of you take her mouth and the other get her dog-fashion from behind."
"Oooooooh," Barbara moaned in the shame and humiliation of it all. She closed her eyes, letting her still spasmodically twitching body go almost limp as she was rolled onto her belly, two new pairs of hands searching over her flesh, pushing her into position.
"Kneel up," a voice commanded her and she drew her legs obediently up beneath her belly almost to her breasts, arching her buttocks invitingly high into the air. She felt Jimmy Crane scoot up on his knees behind her, a little shudder coursing through her loins at the first contact of his full man-sized penis up between her open-splayed thighs. It was almost twice as big as Sonny's and a little tremor of delirious delight coursed over her flesh at the thought of having it finally inside her, filling her, quelling the raging lust burning out of control through her loins. The whole episode still seemed almost more than she could imagine, but now she was in it and she knew there would be no way out until the end.
At the same time Tommy Howard was stationing himself on his knees before her, his erect cock bent downward by his hand to aim straight at her slack, slightly open mouth. She was going to get it from both ends at once and as Jimmy suddenly levered even more tightly up against her from behind and she felt him insert the thick cudgel of his bulbous cock-head between her already flowering and moistened cunt-lips, her spontaneous movement of retreat caused her to run almost smack into the pulsing male hardness aimed down at her face in front. Then, as though operating by means of a silent signal, both boys suddenly thrust.
"Uuggghhhh!" Barbara grunted as Tommy's gagging cock-shaft rammed suddenly into her mouth and Jimmy's hard male penis plundered just as swiftly up into her from behind. She took them both at once, Tommy's rigid cock sliding easily between her teeth and down the length of her saliva-coated tongue, Jimmy's lust-hardened cock skewering relentlessly up into her defenseless vagina to the hilt. The boy behind her wrapped his hands around her flanks to prevent further retreat, and Tommy seized her hair to hold her face in place against his loins. Then, almost as if they'd practiced it before, the two youngsters began to fuck in a swift and perfectly timed rhythm in and out of her from both ends.
Barbara's trapped body was buffeted like a rag doll between the two groaning and panting youngsters. Jimmy skewered into her with hard racking lunges, slapping his pelvis loudly against the proffered cheeks of her ass as he drove his penis again and again to the hilt up into her lust-inflamed little vagina. From the front Tommy's engorged cock-head was ramming almost to her throat, filling and stretching her ovaled lips until she thought she would gag.
But there was no escape, and the tremors of delight coursing out over her loins were already blotting out the frustration she'd derived from Sonny's ignominious failure, and she sucked slavishly at the penis invading her mouth, swirling her tongue in tantalizing circles around the thickly surging cock-shaft as it rammed deeper and deeper toward her throat, grinding and wiggling her naked buttocks wildly back against the boy fucking and mauling her from behind. She was conscious of the leering gazes of the other boys crowded close around to watch, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Sonny sulking in the far corner of the room. She knew her game was up. Something like this could never be lived down in a little town like Hatfieldville and her career here as a teacher was finished. But in the meantime she was determined to exact every ounce of pleasure she could from the lewd ravishment that would inevitably lead to her downfall. Tonight it was the backfield, tomorrow night if there was a tomorrow it might for all she knew be the line. But in the meantime there was nothing but the present, nothing but the two wildly fucking boys skewering their twin cocks into her separately yielding orifices, and the helplessly wanton young blonde wanted nothing more than this, to please and be pleased, to finally quench the fires of lust that tortured and devastated her loins.
Whimpering with masochistic rapture, Barbara let herself go completely, wiggling and grinding her buttocks back with a frenzy as Jimmy's impaling cock continued to plunge into her from behind, sucking with fervor on the engorged instrument of flesh that violated her mouth. She humped and bucked in eager response as they drove her lust-beaten form brutally back and forth between them, mauling and pawing over her nakedly cringing flesh, the very debasement and humiliation to which they were subjecting her prompting in her an excitement and raw titillation that went beyond anything she'd yet experienced. She could feel the nerve-ends of her flesh ignited with the raw searing sensation of the dual-fucking of her mouth and cunt, and already the first tremors of pre-orgasmic release were surging relentlessly over her.
Nor would the boys be far behind. Jimmy was building swiftly toward his own rousing climax, slamming his body violently against the upturned crevice of her ass, attacking her with animal frenzy that matched the animalistic position in which she'd been placed. Tommy was fucking into her mouth with an equal fury, the seminal fluids issuing from the slitted glans at the tip of his cock mixing with the saliva that filled her sensuously hollowed cheeks. Together the three of them were building toward the end, and moments later it began.
Suddenly the nakedly squirming blonde felt Jimmy's ponderous cock twitch and distend even deeper into her from behind, stretching her cruelly invaded little pussy almost beyond belief as he launched into a series of final hard-racking lunges against the wiggling cheeks of her ass. The boy used his knees to spread her thighs even wider apart, his battering cock thundering almost up to her belly as it began suddenly to pump its hot teeming load of semen far up into the quivering depths of her womb.
Sensing what was happening, Barbara rocked back to grind her buttocks even harder against his loins, relishing the painfully deep violation of her loins and the final pummeling fury as he built to the peak of his assault. A moment later the boy in front of her seized her hair even more tightly, smothering her face into his loins and ramming his pile-driving cock all the way to her tonsils as the dam of his own restraint gave way and the first wave of salaciously squirting sperm began its mad dash from his balls up the length of the elongated shaft of his cock.
Barbara gulped as she felt his hot cum spew suddenly into her mouth, the pungent liquid pumping in an incessant flow as jet after jet of his viscous semen pelted to the back of her throat. She was forced to swallow to keep from choking and her cheeks were filled with the lewdly flowing liquid, her eyes watering from the strain as she gulped it hungrily down. At the same time she continued the wanton thrashing and humping of her buttocks back against Jimmy's pumping loins, and her brain was reeling as she felt her own release fluttering to a crescendo far up in her loins, her body soaring and exploding in a devastating burst of fiery delight.
And then it was over. Barbara collapsed on the floor beneath the two boys, feeling their spent penises slip from the respective orifices of her mouth and her cunt. For a moment she basked in shameless satisfaction, purring softly from the little orgasmic waves still rippling over her flesh. Then two more boys replaced the ones who had just spent their lust on her body. She felt herself being shoved, faintly protesting, back into position to do the same thing again. Deliriously she realized that, far from over, her ravishment was just beginning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Barbara went like a zombie through the motions of the next day's classes. Everywhere she went she heard, or thought she heard, a buzz of conversation behind her back, the giggles of girls and young boys, the boastings of the boys who had already had her, the eager exclamations of the boys who had not yet had her and were sure now that soon they would. She was almost numbed from her shame and she functioned mechanically, hardly caring. Her life seemed over. She knew she was living on borrowed time. She felt like the worm in hell that would not die.
She left the game that night at half-time, a sickening nausea rising in her throat as she watched the Hatfieldville starters trudge from the field, beneath the scoreboard that registered Hastings' 14 to 7 lead. At home she sat on the couch in her darkened living room. Far away she could hear the crowd at the stadium, roaring, falling silent, roaring again.
It was sometime after eleven when she heard the knock at her front door and went to answer it. Standing outside, looking nervous and slightly downcast, was Sonny Wilkens. "We lost," he said. "They had a chance to tie it at the end Bobby fumbled a hand-off to Tommy on the seven yard line." He paused as Barbara nodded grimly, then looked up at her hopefully. "Can I come in."
Barbara shook her head, reaching up unconsciously to check the latch on the screen. "No Sonny."
"But. . . "
"No!" she snapped shortly. Then, as he stared forlornly in, she shut the door and locked it, walked down the hall to her bedroom and went to bed.
Barbara awoke with a start from her sleep, her naked body stiffening in the darkness as she heard the loud banging at the front of her house. It took her a moment to determine that it was the front door, not a knocking on the door but someone banging against it with their whole body as though trying to brak it down. For the first few seconds she couldn't even move, then, hearing the door suddenly give way she kicked off her covers and scrambled naked from the bed, pulling her light housecoat hastily over the lush naked curves of her body as she heard the footsteps coming down the hall. She went to the door and flicked on the light, then jumped back as she saw the hulking form of Coach Burt Johnson, followed by Bobby Lane.
"Come on," the coach said, seizing her arm. "I didn't think you were ever going to wake up. We've got to get you away from here right now."
"W-what is it?" Barbara gasped, still half groggy with sleep in spite of the fear that had gripped her.
"Sonny talked," the coach said. The whole town knows what happened last night. There's an angry mob coming down the street right now, and what they've got planned for you is even more than you deserve."
"What plan?" Barbara gasped, hardly able to believe what the coach was saying.
"I won't go into details. These men or just drunken loggers, but they love my football team. There's an interesting device in the sawmill which you might have seen employed in an old movie rerun sometime. What they have in mind is a sort of Islamic justice."
"Islamic justice?"
"Yeah," the coach said tersely. "If a man steals, cut his hand off. If a woman . . . " He left the rest to Barbara's imagination, but the image was clear enough. "I'll take you to my place tonight, then get you out of town in the morning. That's the last place they would expect you to hide."
"But . . . , " Barbara began. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I wouldn't want to see anybody's asshole run across that buzz-saw. And Bobby told me what really happened last night. Maybe it wasn't all your fault."
Barbara wasn't even given time to put on a dress. Clad in nothing but her flimsy robe, she let the coach lead her out into the cool night air where Bobby's pick up waited. As they got in and pulled away she looked back through the windshield at the mob rounding the corner off Main Street. Bobby drove them to the coach's place and dropped them off there. Inside in the masculine-decorated den of his ranch-style home the coach poured her a stiff shot of Bourbon and Barbara tried to explain what she'd come to understand during the hours she'd lain awake thinking before finally drifting into the deep and restful slumber from which she'd been so rudely awakened.
"I missed the most important part of my adolescence. Sexual discovery. You might not believe me, coach. But I only lost my virginity a week before I came here. My fianc' raped me, though I guess deep down inside I wanted it. Then, I found myself in a teenage environment. There were all these boys, handsome strong boys around, the kind of boys I should have been sleeping with when I was seventeen or eighteen. It just happened. And I've got to admit it wasn't all their fault either. Maybe that buzz-saw is exactly what I deserve," she added with a little shiver, then went on: "But anyway, I don't know how I can thank you for what you've done tonight."
"You don't?" the coach said, his eyes drifting hungrily over the soft curves of Barbara's body scarcely concealed in the flimsy robe she wore.
Then, understanding, she smiled and nodded. "I guess I do understand. Is that what you really want?"
The coach drank down his whiskey. "It's what I've wanted ever since that first day I saw you. I guess that's why I don't blame the boys, even for losing tonight."
Barbara finished her own whiskey, feeling slightly numbed by all that had happened. "Then, I guess after everything else I can hardly say no to you."
He took her to the bedroom. He kissed her hard on the lips, pulling and mauling at her lush young body as he pushed the robe from her shoulders and held the ripeness of her breasts tight against his chest. He groaned in her ear, his hands sweeping down over her buttocks, squeezing and fondling them greedily as Barbara felt the first sensuous tingles of delight darting up through her loins, as she realized that for the first time in her life she had actually said yes to a man. She wasn't being raped tonight, she was giving in out of her own free will even if the submission was obligatory after the fate the coach had saved her from, and as she realized the significance of that fact she suddenly rose onto her tiptoes, her arms going tight around his neck to hug his muscular body even more tightly to her own, her lips showering hungry kisses of affection and gratitude across his face.
The coach endured this for a moment, then suddenly his strong hands gripped Barbara's shoulders almost painfully. He shoved her down to a sprawling position on the bed, glaring at her almost vengefully.
Barbara couldn't believe the hatred with which the coach was looking at her. "W-what happened. I thought.. . I thought you wanted me," she whimpered with building disappointment and frustration.
"I do want you, you bitch!" Burt Johnson hissed through gritted teeth. "But I wanted to win that football game too, and we would have won if you hadn't been here, even if last night wasn't your fault."
Oh dear, Barbara thought as she watched the strong hairy chested man suddenly peel off his tee-shirt and start to unbuckle his trousers. Her eyes were glazed with a mingling of fear and lust as he pulled his trousers down and the unbelievably gigantic shaft of his cock sprang suddenly to shocking freedom. He was still glaring at her as if he would like to kill her, though she could see clearly the angry raging lust in his eyes, and she made no move to escape as he climbed up onto his knees beside her on the bed, his hands cupping and digging at her breasts and searching brutally over the nakedly cringing curves of her flesh. Then with a sudden grunt he rolled her over onto her belly and before Barbara could comprehend quite what was happening to her he fell on her with all his strength and all the crushing weight of his body, his cock lying like a menacing presence straight along the crack of her ass as his hands suddenly pushed her knees up under her almost to her breasts.
Barbara's head was buried in the pillow and her back ached painfully from the weight of the hulking man on top of her. She felt completely helpless and vulnerable, her buttocks pushed defenselessly high in the air, her skin quivering as he scratched and mauled over her nakedly rounded ass-cheeks. Then, as his thumbs dipped down into the forbidden crack between them, spreading the two half-moons forcibly wide apart to completely expose the puckered little hole of her anus, she shuddered with the first bitter inkling of what he intended to do to her.
"I wanted to win!" he growled. "Did you hear that, you bitch? I wanted to win. And we would have if it hadn't been for you."
Then Barbara's body stiffened as one of the coach's hands slipped down between her thighs from behind, his fingers brushing swiftly over the already lust-dilated lips of her pussy to spread several oozing droplets of her moist feminine lubricant back over the sensitive little membrane that separated her cunt from her anus. Staring wide-eyed ahead of her, Barbara felt him work the moisture around her cringing little asshole. Then suddenly he drew his finger away, and as he levered forward another couple of inches on the bed, it was replaced by the thick cudgel-sized head of his hotly swollen cock.
"Noooooo!" Barbara squealed, suddenly gripped by terror as the coach shoved forward and she experienced the first sudden savagely painful pressure of his cock-head pushing right against the tight little aperture. "Oh God no," she whimpered. "You can't do that. Not in . . . not in there!"
"The hell I can't," the coach growled. "Now open up or I'll give you back to that goddamned buzz-saw."
How could this man ever have the audacity to stand in front of a Sunday School class and teach the Word of God, Barbara asked herself as she knelt trembling in terror before him. This was worse than any fate she could ever have conceived of and in spite of the blinding pain surging through her body as the pressure on her defenseless anus increased, she still had the presence of mind to wonder if after he was through with her she would ever be the same again. The burning sensation up between her buttocks was almost more than she could bear, and she felt shamed and degraded beyond all human decency as the grunting ape of a man struggled to fit his giant cock into the tiny little hole of hr anus.
At first it seemed that no matter how hard he pushed it would never fit. It blunted against the resisting little orifice or slipped downward toward her wetly dripping cunt. Then he seized his massive cock with his hand to hold it in place, his other hand reaching beneath Barbara's belly to hold her in her menial position, and with a sudden heaving of breath he gave a mighty forward lunge.
"Aaaagggghhhhhhhh!" Barbara screamed as the coach succeeded in forcing just the spongy head of his massively palpitating cock up into her vainly resisting little anal opening. "Stop, please, you're killing me!" she whimpered as he flexed his hips forward again, pushing relentlessly inward to shove his long penis deeper and deeper up into her heatedly cringing rectum. But her cries reverberated heedlessly through the room, and as she continued to squirm and writhe in anguish and humiliation, he shoved the full length of his punishing rod of flesh all the way up to the hilt, its driving hardness sweeping aside all her inner anal resistance until his plundering cock was embedded in her to the hilt and his loins smacked down hard against the soft ripe cushions of her ass.
"I wanted to win that game!" the coach hissed in her ear, sagging heavily upon her as his initial penetration was completed. Then, still long before Barbara's ravished asshole had had time to adjust, he pulled back and lunged forward again, instituting an intense and rhythmic pistoning motion as his rock-hard penis skewered in and out of her tightly clenching little hole.
Sobs of pain and misery poured from the kneeling blonde's lips as the hulking football coach lunged the skewering hardness of his cock again and again up into the most tender depths of her rectum. Her body shuddered in spontaneous little spasms and for the first few moments she thought she would pass out from the pain of it all. But to her amazement she began to realize that the initial agony had faded rather than increased. The pain was becoming oddly almost pleasurable, and tentatively she moved her buttocks back to meet his next racking lunge, feeling the first stirrings of a new kind of passion rejuvenating through her naked body as she wiggled her buttocks in small little circles, relaxing the inner muscles of her bowels as her pliable anal flesh began to adjust to the filling presence thrusting up inside it.
"Oh God," Barbara wailed as the sputtering and cursing man continued to bang and thrust into her tightly quivering rubbery sheath of flesh. His hands were still crawling and dancing over her sensitive back, moving down beneath her to cup and fondle the swaying ripeness of her breasts, pinching painfully at her lustfully erected nipples as he further intensified the rhythm of his merciless assault, his breath rasping loud and hoarsely in her ears.
Barbara waved her buttocks wildly back against Burt Johnson's racking lunges, her mind blurred by the sheer intensity of the sensation she was experiencing. She was being fucked brutally in the ass and she was enjoying even this, and again she could only remind herself how much life she'd cheated herself out of during the long years she'd spent in self-enforced chastity. She felt no pain now, only an exquisite warm wetness in the crevice between her asscheeks and a lurid burning far up inside her bowels as the coach skewered even more forcibly and more deeply into her. She was straining back against his pummeling penis, feeling it throb to even greater size and hardness to stretch her tightly clasping anus almost beyond endurance.
"Oh fuck me in the ass," she chanted in soft delirium, flailing her head from side to side as the length of his penis began to twitch and convulse far up into her bowels and he began a final series of shattering thrusts and at last let go of his weakening remnants of self-control.
"Yes cum," she screamed. "Cum in me!" Deep up toward her belly Barbara felt the splatteringly pelting droplets as the coach let himself go completely, humping and bucking like a wild man as he pumped his teeming load of hot male sperm deep up into the tight hollow of her ass. And as she realized what was happening Barbara felt her own body suddenly tense, waves of masochistic ecstasy sweeping out over her tingling flesh as her mind almost blanked out from the sheer devastating fury of the anal orgasm that engulfed her.
The she gasped as she felt the coach's limply deflating penis withdraw from her asshole with a little pop. She sagged, panting, down on the bed, feeling him pull her body to his strong chest, holding her tightly in his arms.
"Jesus," the coach gasped through his still rasping breath. "I don't know now but what it was worth it."
"Worth what?"
"Losing to Hastings."
CHAPTER NINE
The sun blazed fiercely down over the anvil of the desert, stretching endlessly as far as the eye could see. Greg Benson descended from the rig and walked, sweating in his open khaki shirt, toward the truck.
"Letter, Greg," the American driver said, handing him an airmail envelope with Barbara's San Francisco return address and a red sticker that said Special Delivery in small print and Express in large. He opened it eagerly. Then the smile on his face turned to a dark angry frown as he saw the first lines of the brief nastily scrawled letter. And as he read on, the anger changed to hurt, then hopelessness. Dear Greg, I don't know how to begin this. Call it a dear John, and try somehow to forgive me.
Something has happened to me during the last few weeks since I last saw you, perhaps the most profound change in my life. You were the catalyst for that change, . though I know you will hate me for saying it. But I have discovered that until that night, I never knew how to live. I have been learning ever since. I still don't necessarily want to break off. our engagement, as I don't know what things will be like when you come back a year from now. But I wouldn't want to be married, today, or tomorrow, or next week. I won't want to be married until I've experienced enough of what I missed during all those years I wasn't, wasn't.. . How can I say it? Fucking. You did it to me first, anyway. I'll still always love you for that. Please try to forgive me and try to understand. And get yourself a harem over there to keep you company until I see you again. (I'm back in San Francisco. I'll start a Ph.D. program at
Stanford this winter. Teaching didn't work out, for reasons I won't go into now.)
Just understand, Greg, I'm sorry if this hurts you or comes as a shock. And know that I'm not doing it bluntly out of spite. I just don't know how else to say it and I have literally been working on this letter for days.
