A serious-minded student of the Anglo-American novel who wished to catagorize this unusual book would be obliged, perhaps, to think in terms of Voltaire's Candide, or even better, Thomas Mann's The Confessions of Felix Krull, as a source of inspiration. But on the other hand, given Billie Monday's devotion to sexuality as a means of unfolding her stories, perhaps our serious-minded young scholar would not wish to catagorize Adopted Daughter at all; the book is too funny for an academic approach and substantially sexier than anything normally found in a Department of English literature at one of our serious-minded universities.
For the reader who is accustomed to thinking of Billie Monday as an in-depth analyst of contemporary social ills and evils, the cheerful sensuality of this novel may come as a pleasant surprise. At least the editors were happily jolted by this book and Miss Monday was kind enough to provide us with some notes on the source of her inspiration.
"As you know," she wrote us recently, "my work on the North African White Slavery Trade has been progressing very slowly, thanks to the tons of United Nations reports on the subject which the Secretary General's office persists in sending me and which have to be read before I can conceivably pretend that my study is definitive. To complicate matters, I had foolishly agreed to direct the doctoral disertation of a student sent to me by an old friend who teaches oriental philosophy at Oxford, and it was necessary to spend several hours a day with this sober young man, explaining the difference between Ying and Yang, at least as the concepts appear in the works of a minor Bengali theologian, whom I knew from my days with the Harvard Anthropological Expedition there."
"Frankly, I was depressed by it all, and in a fit of pique, I packed my student off to Bangladesh to do some field research, stuffed my notes into a suitcase, and took off for a few weeks of relaxation on the smallest and most isolated of the Tremiti Islands, setting up shop in a pleasant little cottage which is kindly maintained fo me by the Italian Government in recompense for some trifling services I was able to render during the World War Two Resistance
Movement. For several days, I relaxed, sitting on a crystal white beach and gazing mindlessly at the bluest sea one can find anywhere in the Mediterranean area. One day, I heard the sound of running feet on the sand, and looked up to see a totally naked girl race by my beach chair. She was an oriental, Japanese perhaps, with naturally dark skin burnished by the sun to a magnificent hue of brown, and her body was the equal to any one of my fictional heroines, supple, heavy-breasted, sensuous ..."
"I sat up in amazement as this fantastic apparition hesitated before me and then sped off into the bushes. An instant later, three Italian fishermen half-in and half-out of their pants, pounded into view, zipping up flies and trying to fasten their sandals and run at the same time. One of them spotted the girl's tracks in the sand, and the dauntless trio charged off in hot pursuit. I never fo'und out what this extraordinary incident meant, but late that night after a dinner of gamberi and scampi washed down by a clear light Tuscan wine, the idea for Adopted Daughter sprang uninvited into my mind and I began to write."
"By the way, the book on the White Slavery Trade will be a few months overdue. But you understand."
We understood, and we expect the reader will understand as well.
The Publishers
Chapter One
"Jesus Christ, Mel, where did you get her?"
Owner and manager of Mother Truckers' Grill, Mel Wilson stuck his pudgy thumbs into his cowboy belt contentedly and grinned as he accepted the admiring praise of his two chronies. Wilson believed in taking advantage of the little golden opportunities which lady luck occasionally served up to him, and he saw nothing particularly wrong with the way he was treating the young waitress. Neither did his friends.
"The orphanage," he explaned, lowering his voice as the slim, curvaceous girl carried two cups of steaming black coffee to a pair of truck drivers seated at a nearby table. One of them muttered something obscene and patted her smoothly rounded buttocks, but the dark-complexioned young girl merely giggled innocently, retreating behind the counter to pick up her next order.
"The orphanage," puzzled Jeff Winters, the owner of the Knock 'em Down Bowling Alleys on the North side of Interstate Number Nine.
"That's right, my friend, the orphanage! The government takes care of 'em until they're sixteen, and then turns 'em loose. I offered Mandy a steady job, those chicken-shit social workers handed her over to me 'cause I'm an honest businessman, as simple as that. She's got a room in the back where she sleeps, and all she can eat, plus twenty-five bucks a week to spend. Pretty nice deal, eh?"
"For how many hours?" wondered Tom Andrews, the used car salesman from Honest Al's Reconditioned Used Cars, which was adjacent to the diner.
"About eighty," Wilson commented nonchalantly. "They don't learn much about life in them orphanages, and what she don't know about the Federal Minimum Wage Law, I ain't about to explain to her. She's smart as a whip, and she'll figure it out fer herself soon enough."
"Man, she makes me horny jes' looking at her," drawled Jeff Winters, shifting his legs uncomfortably to ease the pressure of his slowly expanding penis against his pants. "Where'd she get that outfit anyway?"
"Had it made for her special," explained Mel Wilson proudly. "When a girl's got a body like that, you gotta get some mileage out of it.
Business doubled when I hired her in the first place an doubled again when I put that costume on her last week. I sure do like to see them big tits bounce when she walks."
The three men fell silent for awhile, each lost in his own private erotic fantasy as they surveyed the sleek young body busily waiting on crowded tables. Mandy was the product of a brief and alcoholic interlude between a wandering Irish sailor and a Japanese prostitute in San Francisco, a combination of genes which had blossomed into an unusual but exceptionally attractive young woman. From her mother, she had inherited a dark soft skin and slightly slanted eyes which gave her a seductively interesting oriental look. Her wayward father had contributed a certain sauciness to her personality, plus an exceptionally keen intelligence. From somewhere, she had inherited a model's figure, with long slender lust-provoking thighs and unexpectedly lush high-placed breasts which swayed provokingly as she moved.
Unfortunately, the one thing Mandy had not inherited from anyone was money. The week following her birth, her father had shipped out on a China-bound freighter, never to be heard from again. Seduced and abandoned, her mother had deposited the infant firmly in the nearest orphan asylum, and returned to the practice of her sinful profession on the docks of San Francisco, also never to be heard from again. Mandy had been raised by the State of California, given a free public education as far as her sophomore year in high school, and then turned out abruptly to make her own way in the cold cruel world.
To make perfectly sure that her spectacularly voluptuous young body revealed as much as possible to the clients of the Mother Truckers' Grill, Mel Wilson had dressed her in a sort of modified bunny outfit, which consisted of hot pants cut as high on the thigh as the law would allow, and a blouse which was scooped as low in front as was possible to reveal generous portions of her sumptuous young breasts. Obviously in a costume like this it was impossible to bend over and pour cream into coffee without affording the coffee drinker the view of a lifetime, but Mandy had spent too many years locked up with other women to know much about men and their lusts or about the way in which a body like hers could provoke a man into violence. This outfit was the prettiest thing she had ever been given to wear, anji she was happy with it, relieved at being away from the severely moralistic social workers at the asylum and the long ugly skirts they had forced her into ever since she was a child.
"Hey, Mel, you had a crack at her yet?" Tom Andrews muttered, his voice thickened with lust as he watched Mandy passing meal orders to Krim, the young Asian Wilson had recently hired as a short-order cook.
"No, but I'm here to tell you fellows that it won't be long before I give her a try," whispered Mel frankly. "I been worrying about all them damn laws about statutory rape, though."
"Who ever heard of raping a statue?" inquired Winters, a little puzzled.
"Jerk! Statutory rape is when you fuck a girl who ain't eighteen," Andrews explained contemptuously. "But Mel kin do pretty much what he wants with this chick. If she complains, it's his word against hers, and they'll send her back to the asylum, or to the home for wayward girls, and she knows it! What the hell ya waiting for, Mel?"
"Now boys, you're-putting bad ideas into my head," Wilson protested mildly, his eyes glowing with sudden lust as he began to contemplate the project seriously. Of course, he had been thinking about getting his hands into her pants since the moment he saw her, but he had never before seen it as a real possibility. "Suppose she fights back? A girl like that can kick like a mule!"
"Well, I'd say if you had a couple of real good friends along to give you a hand, Mel," suggested Andrews lewdly, "They could hold her down for you. Of course, your good friends'd have to have some kinds reward, wouldn't they, Jeff?"
"Reckon they would," agreed the bowling alley proprietor. "Might be easier if we filled her up with a little booze first. She might even enjoy it!"
"Well, boys, I think we'd better have another round and give it some deep thought. Business sorta tapers off after midnight and that Indian fella should be able to handle the counter alone for a couple of hours. Man! I haven't stuck my poor old cock into anything that fresh and tender since I married my wife Costanza twenty years ago. And she wasn't all that fresh, now that I come to think about it!"
Mandy stuck her hands into the warm soapy water in the sink and washed up a few more plates as the last customers finished up their bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, downed a final beer or.two for the road, and fished around in their pockets for the change to pay the check. It was not a bad place to work, she was thinking as she scraped a hardened piece of scrambled egg off a plate with her fingernail. Of course, the hours were exhausting, but everyone was so friendly to her here and the tips were enormous. Mr. Wilson had explained that naturally all the tips had to be divided fifty-fifty with him, but she had already devised a system for slipping quarters and half-dollars into her panties and then paying the owner only a small portion of what she actually took in. The young orphan felt a little bad about cheating Mr. Wilson out of his half of her tips, but Krim had explained to her that in Bangladesh, where he came from, waitresses were entitled to keep all of their tips. Unfortunately, in Bangladesh everyone was so poor, the waitresses never got any tips, but the principle was there, just in case someone did leave something under his plate in a Bengali restaurant. In Krim's opinion, in fact, Mr. Wilson was a dirty crook, who failed to pay them nearly as much as the law insisted they be paid, a situation which Krim accepted only because he was not a legal resident of the United States and would be shipped back to Bangladesh on the first plane if anyone found out he was here. And since starvation was the number one cause of death in Bangladesh, Krim prefered to stay where he was and be screwed. But he was not happy about it.
"You jingle!" came a harsh foreign hiss in her ear, and Mandy looked up in alarm to find the young Moslem next to her, pretending to wash dishes by her side in order to talk to her without being observed by the ever-vigilant Mr. Wilson.
"What?" Mandy liked Krim, and the two of them spent a lot of time together talking and planning for the future. Despite the fact that he was a foreigner, Krim knew a lot more about the world than she did, and Mandy valued his advice. Sometimes, when business was slow, he would hold her hand under the counter where the customers could not see them, and gaze fondly into her eyes, speaking to her softly in his chronically broken English. But now something was upsetting him.
"You jingle! Money in little pants is jingle when you walk!" he informed her urgently, and after a moment's concentration to unscramble his grammar which was as scrambled as his eggs, she understood what the young Asian was talking about. It had been an unusually heavy evening, and there had been more tips than usual. She had stuffed a great quantity of assorted coins down the front of her hot pants and they were jangling together as she walked. Worse yet, she had been invited to have a drink at midnight with Mr. Wilson and his friends, and she dare not jingle in that company or the owner would understand immediately that she had been cheating him out of his share of her tips.
"Oh, God, what will I do?" she murmured, scrubbing furiously at the plates so that Mr. Wilson would not accuse her of loafing on the job. A brassiere was the ideal place to hide things, but in this sexy new outfit Mr. Wilson had told her to wear there was no place for a brassiere and her succulent young breasts were allowed to bounce freely beneath the fragile material of her blouse. It felt good, but it also reduced the number of places she could hide things. Whispering to Krim that she would take care of the matter, the slim-bodied young girl quickly rolled up a paper napkin in her hand, and headed for the ladies' room. She could only stay there for a minute, since Mr. Wilson automatically glanced at his watch whenever she or Krim had to go to the bathroom, and if they did not reappear in sixty seconds he began to pound irritably on the door. The moment she had snapped the lock into place, she quickly undid the zipper on the side of her hot pants, drew them down around her knees and then began fishing all the quarters and half-dollars out of her flimsy, tight-fitting panties. There were about twenty coins in all, a real good haul for a night's work, and the quick-witted -girl skillfully arranged them in a pile and then wrapped them securely in the napkin, making an oblong package about three inches long. There was only one place on her body where such an object could possibly be hidden, and that was between her legs, so she positioned the money neatly between the hair-covered lips of her vagina, pushing it well back between her sleekly rounded buttocks so that the bulge in front would be as little as possible. It gave her a tiny, unexpected twinge of pleasure as the soft paper napkin rubbed insistently against the tiny pink button of her unused little clitoris, but Mandy was not experienced sexually, and the sensual spects of what she was doing did not occur to her at the moment. As soon as her precious little package was riding securely in her panties, she hoisted her hot pants back into place, and looked at herself in the mirror. It was perfect! There was no jingle or jangle as she moved, and from the outside, everything looked perfectly normal except that her mound of Venus might appear unusually large and enticing to a practiced observer. With a sigh of relief, she washed her hands, since Mr. Wilson was fond of listening at the door to make sure that she washed her hands after using the toilet, and went back out into the restaurant.
"You have hide?" inquired Krim solicitously as she dipped her hands again into the sink and finished up the last few plates and saucers. She nodded, yes. Everything was safely hidden, but actually she was wondering how good a repository it really was. Every time she moved, the tightness of her hot pants pulled the little bundle of coins further up into the softness of her vulva, and it was sending a strange series of funny little sensations rippling into her stomach. She was due to have her drink with Mr. Wilson now, and it would be disastrous if she could not concentrate and make a good impression on him because of this distraction between her legs! But Krim was beside her again, whispering incoherently and it was a while before she could sort out his garbled words.
"Mandy, Mr. Wilson is badness! At you he look always like a big crocodile look at little fish. You save you for Krim when is rich and he marry you! Okay? Make a great Bangladesh lady and live big house in Dacca! I have much loveness! You not give you to Mr. Wilson!"
"You mean ... go and live in Bangladesh?" she stammered, touched by this declaration of love, and not knowing exactly how to react. No one had ever asked her to come with him to Bangladesh before. And Krim was even poorer than she was!
"Krim make you princess!" he was vowing fervently. "Bangladesh princess with money from American! We live in big house!"
"Oh Krim ..." she started to reply, a catch in her throat as deep adolescent emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but her eyes caught movement from the table where Mel Wilson was sitting with Andrews and Winters. The owner of the restaurant was calling her over; it was time for their drink and she would have to postpone thinking about Krim's romantic proposals. Certainly, being a princess in Bangladesh would be nice, and Krim was a strong handsome young man .. .
"Well, it's little Mandy!" chuckled the plump, heavy-bodied Wilson lewdly as she timidly approached their table. "Sit down, girl, and we'll have a drink! No, here's a better idea. Let's go back to your room, eh? No point in having the customers see a waitress drinking, is there?
Might create a bad impression of the kind of place we run here."
Obediently, Mandy followed Wilson out of the restaurant's main room, through a storage area and into the tiny bedroom she had been given as a place to live. It was drab and dingy, but after sharing a room with four other girls for most of her life, the idea of being alone delighted Mandy. Wilson took the only chair while Andrews and Winters made themselves comfortable on the bed, motioning Mandy to sit between them. Innocent as she was, the orphanage-bred girl could not help feeling that there was something perculiar about this situation. Surely there were more comfortable places to have a drink?
"Okay, Mandy, let's see how you handle your liquor," announced Wilson grandly, almost filling a normal water-glass with whiskey and handing it to her casually! Unless I miss my guess, he was thinking lecherously, she'll get about halfway through that dose and fall on her face. If we can knock her out completely, then we don't run the risk of having her scream for the cops when it's all over. Goddamn! Why didn't I ever think of this before? And if she goes for it, I can bring her back here for a quickie whenever I'm in the mood and that'll be plenty often. It'll be tough the first time, 'cause she's probably as tight as hell, but once we get her greased up, we'll be on easy street!
Watching Mel Wilson serve the other two men, Mandy sniffed experimentally at the liquor she held in her hand. Naturally they had never let her drink at the orphanage, and she felt quite adult and grown-up, sitting here with a group of men and taking her whiskey with the best of them. When she actually tried to swallow a mouthful of the light brown liquid, she was surprised at how bitter it was, but bravely she choked it down, not wanting to seem ungrateful or unsophisticated.
"Come on, baby, drink up," urged Tom Andrews, a slender muscular man with long shining black hair and a hard brutal face. "There's more where that came from and it ain't everyday that we get a shot at Wilson's whiskey!"
Mandy grinned at this joke, showing her white even teeth, and tilted the glass again, noticing that the second swallow went down a good deal easier than the first. Her head was spinning slightly and the room seemed to have grown appreciably warmer than it had been a few minutes before, but the men were talking animatedly about business now and she reminded herself to sit up and look interested. The older girls had explained to her very carefully at the orphanage that her only job in life was to find the richest man she could and marry him, and this meant learning how to get along with men. With her looks, they had assured her, she would have no difficulty in finding a rich and handsome young man to marry her. These three men were all too old to be possible husbands, and at least Mr. Wilson was already married to a horrible lady named Costanza, but they would be good for practicing on. She smiled happily as the used-car salesman slipped his arm playfully around her shoulder, and blushed prettily when Jeff Winters told a joke, guessing that it was dirty even though she had not quite gotten the point of it. She took another quick sip, noticing that the men had all nearly finished their drinks and felt her head begin to swim pleasantly. So this was what it was like to get drunk, she told herself. Not bad at all, except that I'd fall over my feet if I had to wait on tables right now.
"You know, you're a real good-looking little bitch," Andrews complimented her crudely, his wandering hand making its way onto her thigh. At the orphanage, they had lectured her constantly about men making strange advances at girls, and it vaguely occurred to her booze-dazzled mind, that this might be the beginning of a "strange advance", but she decided to let matters go a little in order to be sure. She could hardly take a chance on offending one of her boss's friends if he was merely trying to be friendly. On her left, Jeff Winters was apparently trying to be friendly as well, since his thigh was rubbing insistently against the softly yielding flesh of her leg and he seemed to be looking down the front of her blouse as if he had lost something and expected to find it between the sumptuously swelling mounds of her delightful young bosom.
"Hey, what do you boys think of Mandy's costume?" inquired Wilson, trying to keep the conversation going as he pulled his chair up closer so that their knees were practically touching. "Shows off her better points, don't you think?"
"Yeah, great," muttered Andrews, refilling her glass almost to the brim. "But she's got it buttoned up too far."
Mandy took a quick drink of the whiskey, sputtered a little in confusion and looked down at her lust-inciting chest to see what he could possibly be talking about. If she unbuttoned it anymore ...
"Here lemmie show you," said the used-car salesman and quickly setting his glass on the nightstand, he reached forward and undid another button, pulling the lapels of the flimsy garment aside to reveal her golden tan breasts almost to her rosy little nipples. Winters seemed to be edging in closer from the other side, his hands exploring her thighs and Wilson had drawn the chair up so far now that her knees were spread on either side of his and she could not close her legs.
"No, I think that's far enough ..." she started to sputter, but the lust-maddened car salesman deftly unfastened another button and yanked her blouse open completely, freeing her two ripely mature young breasts. Acting as a team, he and Winters each seized a wrist and he ducked his head, clamping his lips over one of her nipples and sucking it furiously as she tumbled over backwards on the bed.
"Hey, I want to get into this act," shouted Wilson, seeing his friend start to take the initiative before the girl was properly doped up with whiskey. Leaning forward, he yanked down the zipper on her hot pants and thrust his hand lustfully into her panties, raching for the virginal orifice of her vagina.
"What the hell . . . ?" he roared as his fingers invaded the delicate zone of her pussy ami touched something hard and metallic.
"What's the matter?" asked Winters, who was busily caressing the girl's tiny brown nipple, quickly stimulating it into rigidity while Mandy moaned in terror.
The girl's mind whirled with alcohol and the sudden violence of this unexpected assault, but it struck her foolishly that the discovery of the money between her obscenely parted legs might just be the thing to save her. Mr. Wilson would be angry, of course, and while he gave her one of his customary ten-minute lectures on the virtues of honesty among waitresses, everybody's blood would drop back down below the boiling point. Mandy was still a virgin, so she had no particular desire to have her maidenhead ravished out of existence by three drunken middle-aged men.
Unfortunately, good as this reasoning might have been under other circumstances, it happened to be wrong upon this occasion. Wilson yanked the money free of the crotch of her panties and the napkin dissolved, moistened by the effluvial juices from her body, leaving twenty coins in the palm of his hand. Andrews, in the meantime had successfully wrestled her blouse down off her shoulders, and as the two men allowed her to sit up to face judgment, they slipped it off completely, leaving her stark naked to the waist. Her magnificently heavy breasts jed provocatively in the restaurant owner's face, but at the moment he seemed to take no notice of them.
"So, I've been wasting my kindness on a little thief!" he proclaimed theatrically, pressing his fingertips to his brow with a dramatic gesture he had seen in a movie somewhere. "Robbing the hand that feeds ..."
"So it's off to the Woman's House of Correction for her," interrupted Andrews briskly, seeing the game that Wilson intended to play, but anxious to speed matters along, since his horniness was reaching the unbearable stage.
"I think at her age they send them to the Home for Delinquent Girls," advised Winters honestly, and then realized as the other two glared at him that he had committed a tactical error. "Until they're old enough to go to the House of Correction," he amended his dire prediction.
"No, please," sobbed Mandy, confused and destroyed by all that was happening to her and unable to focus her mind because of the massive quantity of alcohol now swimming in her blood stream. "I'll work hard . . . I'll never do it again ..."
"How long a sentence would she get?" wondered Jeff Winters, winking at his two partners.
"Oh, considering her age, I'd say not more than four or five years," Andrews responded easily, his restless hands lasciviously caressing Mandy's quivering breasts as he deliberately terrorized the young girl.
"No... no, please, I'll do anything!" she sobbed pathetically, so distraught with the idea of spending the rest of her youth behind bars, that she was hardly aware of the fact that Wilson was down on his knees before her, wrestling her hot pants down off her sleek legs and then pulling down the fragile cotton panties which were the last garment she had to cover her nakedness.
"All right, baby, we'll give you one more chance. But you better be real good to me and my friends! Real good, understand?"
If Mandy did not understand now, she never would, since Andrews and Winters forced her back down on the mattress while Wilson eased the panties down off her hips and stripped her completely, the dark brown forest of her pussy hair directly in front of his lust-contorted face. The girl's firm young buttocks were resting on the edge of the bed while her legs dangled over the side, and as soon as Wilson had dispensed with her panties, he roughly pushed her long legs apart, lifting them over his head and positioning himself cleverly between her thighs so that there was no way of protecting the delicacy of her genital organs from whatever horrible ravishment he had in mind. Andrews, in the meantime, was obscenely sucking the turgidly swollen tip of her left breast, tormenting it unmercifully with his tongue, while Winters poured the rest of the whiskey down her throat jamming the bottle between her lips and forcing her to drink or strangle on the intoxicating liquid.
"How's it look down there?" he called to Wilson, who was feasting his eyes on Mandy's virginal little slit and unfastening his pants at the same time so that he could stroke his wildly throbbing cock into the proper state of hardness.
"Looks pretty tight, Jeff," Wilson reported as if they were a group of engineers analyzing a difficult problem. "Think a little work with the old tongue ought to put her in the mood. Hey, hold onto her, you guys, she's wiggling!"
Horrified by the savage strangeness of all that was happening to her, Mandy was fighting back with all the strength in her athletic young body, hopeless as it was. She had always known about sex, of course, since the girls in the orphanage talked about nothing else, but their brand of sex always involved wealthy young husband who did it very gently on satin sheets, after many many tender kisses. Having her clothes ripped off by three grown men in the backroom of a restaurant was not her idea of proper sex at all, but she was too confused, too drunk and too frightened to know exactly what to do about the situation except to wiggle and squirm like mad, which was precisely what she was doing.
Mel Wilson leaned forward, grinning like the devil himself, as he pushed his thumbs into the moist pink flesh of her naked cunt, and slowly drew the hair-covered lips of her vagina apart. Silently his head dropped forward, and the next thing she knew, the man's hotly piercing tongue washed over the tiny bud of her clitoris, sending a sudden electric shock up her backbone to the base of her skull.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" she gasped, not hurt, but totally unprepared for so strong a physical sensation. She had never thought much about being raped, but it had never occurred to her before that a man could force pleasure on a girl. And yet Wilson was doing it! Caught completely off-guard by this development, Mandy lay perfectly still, waiting, while the lecherous Wilson licked the length of her slowly widening slit and then suddenly stabbed powerfully with his tongue, burying the length of it in the warmly churning tunnel of her unused little cunt.
"Oh my God," she trilled as fiery sparks shot up through her stomach and Wilson pressed forward with his perverted attack on her genitals. She lifted her head up off the mattress, looking down at her breasts which were being sucked by Andrews and Winters, one on each side, making each of her tiny nipples feel as if it were about to explode. Down farther, across the smooth flat plane of her stomach, she could see Wilson's gleaming eyes as his tongue speared eagerly into the moistly churning depths of her hopelessly violated little cunt. The feeling of humiliation swept over her like the waters from a flood, and her head thrashed back and forth on the mattress in agony, and she wondered if she dared scream for help, or if attracting attention would only make matters worse. On the other hand, it was hard to see how matters could get much worse. The three men were swarming over her like ants, their hands and tongues roaming lewdly over every exposed inch of her nakedly defenseless body.
Wilson watched the girl's face carefully as he tongue-lashed her helpless vagina, wondering if it was really possible for a girl this young and this inexperienced to turn on. All they could really expect from her was mute tearful submission to their brutish desires, but what a gas it would be if they could get her aroused! She was already behaving very strangely, and maybe with a little extra effort. . .
Slinging Mandy's long lithe legs over his shoulders, Wilson plunged even more deeply into the vulnerable throbbing crevice between her thighs, his tongue beginning to wander far afield as he searched for ways to excite the young victim. Pushing her knees up in the air so that they touched over his head, his face dropped even lower, his tongue slipping torturously out of her inflamed cunt and down to the tiny puckered hole of her anus.
"Aaaaaagggghhhhhh," she groaned in anguish as a powerfully strange series of sensations seared up through her belly. "No, not there, please!"
"Atta, boy, Mel," Andrews congratulated him, lifting his mouth momentarily from her stiffened little nipple. "She's halfway there!!!!!"
Encouraged, Wilson stabbed ruthlessly against into the sensitive little circle of tightly clenched flesh, chuckling lasciviously as he felt the girl's imprisoned body jerk helplessly as she futiley struggled to escape from this obscene emoxace. But even as she tested her frail woman's muscles against the combined strength of three robust men, the girl knew that something was going desperately wrong. She was too innocent and too inexperienced to understand precisely what these butterfly sensations meant as they fluttered up and down her spine, but her instinct told her that she had to fight back against these wisps of forbidden pleasure. Bravely she bit her lips, trying to hurt herself enough to drive away the pleasure but the tactic was unsuccessful, and what had started as a tiny tingling spark now began to blaze into a flame, a fire which threatened to engulf her entire being.
"No ... no ... " she groaned hopelessly as Mel Wilson savagely slavered into her wetly churning loins. "Don't do this to meeeeeehhhhh!!!"
But her protest was too late, even if the three brutal men had been in any mood to listen to her feeble protests. Like a dam bursting under the pressure of spring floods, her shamelessly aroused young body gyrated its way into a mindless fury of sensual movement. Her back arched as Wilson's tongue plunged heedlessly into her and the man no longer had to exert pressure to keep her convulsing, jerking legs apart because now they were opening up to him automatically. There were swords of wanton pleasure stabbing down from where the two men were nibbling wetly on her breasts and meeting somewhere in her stomach with the ecstasy spearing upwards from her ravished loins. Now she had forgotten everything they had told her in the orphanage about saving herself for the handsome and wealthy young man who would marry her. There was a terrible wanton yearning buried deep within her, and all she could think of now was the thick wet tongue skewering tirelessly into her quiveringly open young cunt and the evil pleasure they were giving her against her will!
"Boys, this little bitch is ready to fuck!" announced Andrews, a note of amazement in his voice as he studied Mandy's lust-contorted features. "We better get started, or she's gonna cum before we go."
"What d'ya say, Mandy," taunted Winters obscenely. "You gonna cum for us like a good girl? You're a pretty hot pants little bitch, ain't ya?"
"Nooooooohhhhhh, please," Mandy muttered incoherently, despite the fact that her desire-stricken body was very plainly screaming yes.
"Here, take a look at this, little girl," Wilson instructed her, getting to his feet and waving his long hard penis in her face. "Ever see a cock like that before? Or haven't you ever seen a cock of any kind before?"
The men all laughed cruelly as Mandy turned her head to one side, shutting her eyes tightly to avoid looking at the fearsome object Wilson held in his hand. Of course, she had taken freshman biology in high school and knew precisely how these things were supposed to work, but the inexperienced young woman had never before realized that a man's penis could possibly get so big! She had imagined them as being about the size of a finger, but Mel Wilson's bludgeoning rod was as thick around as the handle of a baseball bat and longer than her entire hand! She opened one eye as the men stretched her full length on the bed and Wilson knelt between her knees, taking a second look just to make sure that the liquor in her brain had not been playing tricks on her. No, there was no question about it. Wilson's cock was dangling between her outstretched legs like the sword of Damocles, the huge red glans pulsating with wickedly powerful lust. And he was going to try to stuff that rigidly massive object into the tenderness of her unused little cunt? No, it was not possible, she told herself wildly, desperately seeking some kind of futile assurance that this was just some kind of weird perverted joke.
But it it was a joke, Wilson seemed to be playing very much in earnest, and the girl tried to close herself up as tight as possible, concentrating all her energy in a desperate attempt to bar the way into her endangered virginal slit. But Wilson took his time, rocking forward on one arm and using his free hand to guide the hardened meaty tip of his cock into the moistly palpitating furrow of the girl's helpless pussy. Mandy twitched spastically as she felt his instrument probing its way past the hair-covered lips of her exposed little vagina, but Andrews and Winters continued to hold her tightly, their eyes bulging with obscene delight as the hotel owner tormented the pulsating pink button of her clitoris with the scarlet tip of his penis, forcing an involuntary groan from her parched lips. Wilson inched forward, sighing contentedly as he felt the warm, wetly clasping lips of her cunt fold lovingly over his penis as if the girl's body was welcoming him in.
"Shit, boys, it's like melted butter in there!" he announced enthusiastically.
"Come on, Mel, I'm gonna cum in her face if I've got to wait any longer," protested Andrews, who had by now taken his cock out and was using it to torment the tip of Mandy's left breast. "Or I suppose I could always give it to her in the mouth ..."
"Wait till I get it in," grumbled Wilson, who was encountering resistance as he tried to stuff his overheated tool into the girl's narrow tunnel-like cunt. "Don't want too many things going on at once."
Mandy groaned piteously, writhing in agony as Wilson bore powerfully down on her, putting all the strength in his hardened body into a do-or-die attempt to skewer this young virgin. The pain was bad and the young woman squirmed in agony trying to arrange her body in such a way that the hurt would be less. But with every move he plundered farther and farther into her, ripping away the frail tissue of her hymen in a series of short blood-thirsty thrusts which carried him all the way home, the blunt tip of his rigid cock slamming cruelly against the tenderness of her cervix. The girl tried to scream out her agony but Wilson slapped a hand over her mouth to avoid alarming anyone who might be eating in the restaurant and all that emerged from the girl's throat was a low, agonized moan.
"Christ, what a fantastic cunt!" Wilson proclaimed jubilantly, raising himself up on his elbows to survey the splendid but tortured body of the teenaged girl he had just criminally impaled.
"Well, don't talk about it, fuck it!" flared Andrews impatiently. "Jeff and I are going out of our minds!"
Mandy lay perfectly still while this lewd conversation passed over her head, feeling the fiery pain in her badly stretched vagina subside first into a dull ache and then slowly begin to disappear altogether. It must have been the whiskey, she told herself a little drunkenly. Or I could never have taken it all! Experimentally, she moved her buttocks, wanting to see whether or not the pain would flare up again, but Wilson interpreted this as a lewd invitation for him to get moving and he obliged, thrusting his sword-like cock in and out of her over-stretched vagina in a series of short violent strokes.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" she found herself grunting as the two of them established a steady rhythm. Mandy had no intention of cooperating in her own defilement, but, for some reason, it felt better to gyrate her flexible young hips than it did to lie still. The men were starting to get rough now, but the girl shut her eyes once more as their hands began to roam again over the secret sensuous hollows of her voluptuous body, fading quickly back into a comfortable fog which was half-alcohol and half-sex. She had been on the brink of an orgasm before, while Wilson had been eating her sweet-tasting vagina, and soon she began to recognize the same symptoms starting all over again. Her legs began to jerk uncontrollably as Wilson raged over her, and her breath was coming in short, impassioned bursts as if she were running. Winters got tired of waiting for his turn between her legs and began to rub his erected cock against the softly yielding flesh of her'right breast, flexing his hips back and forth as he tried to make himself cum. Then, in a frenzy of desperation, he hovered over her on all fours and placed his quiveringly excited penis into her armpit and forced her elbow against her rib cage to enclose his cock in a warm, tight artificial cunt.
Mandy's mind was not working very well at the moment, and, submissively, she accepted anything this lusty trio decided to do to her. It makes no difference now, she told herself vaguely, since you've lost your virginity. You're a first-class little whore now and there isn't much you can do about it!
"I wanna fuck'er in the mouth!" Andrews grunted wildly, trying to position his body alongside hers so that he could shove his fiercely jutting pike between her open lips.
"Wait a minute, she's almost there!" shouted Wilson, fucking into Mandy's helplessly convulsing body as if his life depended upon it. "Goddamn boys! I'm making her cum! Look at her face!"
It was true! Mandy's eyes were focused unseeing on the ceiling and short mindless birdlike cries were issuing insanely from her open mouth. There was a savage animal desire which had occupied her alcohol-drugged body like a demon, and her muscles jerked convulsively as if she were in the throes of an epileptic fit. A fine fragrant coat of shimmering moisture had covered her tawny skin as the inexperienced girl raced uncontrollably towards her sexual climax, something she had never known before. There was a moment of tension, of straining, as she trembled on the brink, pulling with every ounce of strength in her body to cross the border into this strange new land of adult sexuality. Mel Wilson was delivering the finest fucking of his life for the occasion, determined that Mandy's first session in bed would be something for her to remember the rest of her life!
Inside, he could feel the soft, velvety tissues of her cunt growing strong and seizing him in a death grip of incredible lust, clasping and unclasping frantically as she slammed her sleek hips to meet his. Putting his knees underneath him and lifting her buttocks clear off the mattress, he fucked into her with a new kind of violence, bringing cries and sobs of frenzied lust to her lips. Closer, closer, she came, until finally . . .
It hit. The men all watched her face as she began to scream out the fury of her orgasm, not wanting to miss an instant of this powerful moment and no longer caring how much noise she made or who heard her. For Wilson, that scream was like a medal of honor presented by a general, and he felt the fire in his loins flash out like lightning as Mandy's body seemed to rise up off the bed and cling to his own with demonic strength, every muscle in her body contracted into virtual paralysis as the first orgasm of her young life ravaged her genitals with savage force.
"Christ! She's making me cum," groaned Wilson happily, feeling the interior muscles of Mandy's vagina clamp down on his wildly ejaculating cock with almost unbearable force. "Aaaaghhhhh, that's good ..."
It was just as well, in the long run, that Mel Wilson enjoyed his orgasm, and it was something of a pity that Jeff Winters was still two minutes away from his, and Tom Andrews had not even started because, in another two minutes, they were all dead.
"Syed Nazrul Islam!" came a savage scream as the door to Mandy's bedroom flew open and Krim, the young dook from Bangladesh, stormed into the tiny room. Having heard that scream and deciding that Mandy's honor was imperiled, Krim had rushed to her defense. What little English he knew had deserted him by now, and he stood there, framed by the door with a steak knife in his hand, treating them to a series of pagan Bengali war cries.
"Tajuddin Ahmad!" he informed them, hot mindless fury in his black flaming eyes as he charged forward, the knife already carving designs in the hot still air of the tiny room.
"Mel! That cook of yours just blew a fuse!" shouted Andrews in alarm as he sidled away from the enraged Bengali, his once-proud cock beginning to wilt in the face of unexpected danger.
"What the fuck . . . !" someone groaned, but Krim leaped into the air and landed on the bed with one leg in either side of the pile formed by the bodies of Wilson and Mandy. The girl was still in the dying throes of her orgasm, and oblivious to the confusion around her, but the three men were now actively aware of the danger which had so suddenly dropped into their lives. Winters was desperately trying to disengage his rapidly deflating cock from Mandy's armpit when Krim screamed another ancient Bengali war cry, bent from the waist and very carefully slit Wilson's throat, doing it precisely as he had seen his father killing sacrificial goats in the days of his childhood. A steak knife was sharp and sliced through the flesh fairly easily until the windpipe, which is cartilage and more difficult to cut.
"Mujibar Rahman!" Krim screamed, the muscles in his arms bulging as he forced the steel blade through Wilson's windpipe, sawing it back and forth while he held the man by his thinning brown hair. The blood poured out copiously, drenching Mandy and the mattress beneath her, and the girl began to come out of her private orgiastic cloud, realizing that something terrible was happening around her. She opened her eyes, seeing Wilson's gaping severed neck and Krim's maniacal eyes gleaming up somewhere near the ceiling.
"Krim! Don't!" she cried uselessly, trying desperately to push Wilson's lifeless corpse off of her blood-soaked body, but Krim's face was twisted into a mask of fervent oriental hatred for the man who had debauched his potential Bengali princess, and he was not finished yet. He would kill them all and then flee with Mandy. In his turbulent mind, it was all arranged.
Meanwhile, Jeff Winters slid off the bed onto the floor and tried to make a break for the door. If the two men had stood their ground and tried to tackle Krim together, they undoubtedly could have overpowered him, since they were each twice his size. But the grotesque killing of Mel Wilson had robbed the two businessmen of their courage and common sense, and they paid for it dearly.
Krim whirled, dancing on the bloodstained bed and leaped through the air like a banshee, catching Winters as he fumbled with the door handle. Seizing the bowling alley executive by the belt, Krim plunged the knife into his back, just to the right of the backbone. Winters stood still, moaning, as he got the message that he was not going to get out of this alive. Krim yanked the knife free and stabbed again, slashing into the vulnerable flesh around the back of the man's thick neck, and Winters went down on his knees, bellowing like a slaughtered mule. Andrews and Mandy both got to their feet at the same time, the girl stark naked and covered with blood and cum, and the man fully dressed except for his now-flaccid cock, which was dangling ridiculously outside of his pants. Mandy's mind was hardly working, but some brute animal instinct for self-preservation was at work in the girl's head, and she knew that getting away from this place as fast as possible ought to be her first order of business. She and Andrews both made a rush for the door where Krim was methodically cutting Winters to ribbons, but Mandy was the only one who made it alive.
Hearing noise behind him, the Asian whirled, letting Winter's body fall limp and moaning to the floor, and he caught Andrews in the stomach as the big man rushed him. The used car salesman stood there looking perplexed for a moment as if he could not for the life of him figure out how it had come to pass that there was a steak knife protruding from his solar plexus.
There was a pounding at the door, and Mandy ducked behind Krim, and twisted the handle from the inside, jumping out of the way, as four men poured into the room, all shouting at once. Krim ignored them for the moment, and concentrated on pulling the steak knife out of Andrews' stomach and proved definitively that used car salesmen have hearts by sticking the point of the knife into it. There was screaming and confusion from the new arrivals and the dying, and Mandy jumped over Winter's writhing form and darted nakedly out into the soft summer night.
Chapter Two
In moments of high drama and rampant excitement, it is sometimes difficult to get priorities straight, and the most important thing to do as far as Mandy was concerned was to get Wilson's blood washed off her skin. The fact that she was stark naked in the parking lot of a roadside diner did not worry her quite so much as the idea of being covered with the sticky remnants of a man's life-blood, and she moved swiftly through the dark and switched on the garden hose.
It was a warm evening and the water felt good on her overheated body, cooling her half-shattered mind along with the surface temperature of her skin. She began to think again with relative clarity for the first time since Wilson had made her drink that whiskey. Krim was inside killing people, and he would undoubtedly tell the police - who were undoubtedly on their way- that he had done it for her. Since her clothing was scattered all over the room and she was huddling naked between two trucks in the parking lot, the police would probably stick her in prison as an accessory before, after or under the fact, and this was to be avoided at all costs.
"Max, there's something goin' on in there! I hear some guy screaming!" a deep voice said insistently, only a few feet away from where the naked teenager was huddled, and Mandy looked up in some alarm. On the side of the truck was printed in large green letters, "Universal Encyclopedia Company", and below that in more serious block print, "Knowledge is the Key to Success!" Inside the cab, there were two men, arguing.
"Yeah, and if we're still here when the fuzz shows up, we'll be here all night answering questions.
"But we ain't involved, so what can we tell the cops?" argued the man with the deep voice.
"And if we go back inside and look, then we will be involved and we'll have something to tell the cops, and we'll be here all night doing it. And if we don't get them fucking books into L.A. tonight, the boss'll have our asses!" the man called Max rejoined.
"All right, all right," the driver grumbled as duty won out over curiosity in his mind, and the truck's great motor fired into life. Mandy was still far too shaken by all that had happened to her in the past few minutes to be capable of rational thought, but the mention of cops coming sent shivers of fear down her naked back, and at all costs she wanted to be well away from Mother Truckers' Grill when the police arrived. Nor did the idea of walking back inside without a stitch of clothing appeal to her in the slightest. For all she knew, Krim had killed everybody by now and was knee-deep in mangled bodies, screaming in Bengali.
It could not be called a decision, because she never really thought about it, but as the Universal Encyclopedia truck began slowly moving out of the lot the girl agilely climbed up over the rail and pushed her way through the canvas into the back of the truck, hoping that there would be something there with which she could cover her nakedness. The truck swung out onto the open highway and the two drivers, Max and Ernie, settled down for the haul over to L.A., bitterly arguing about the comparative merits of the Green Bay Packers defensive line. Mandy crawled around silently in the back of the truck until she found a comfortable burlap bag on which to sit. It was itchy, but as soon as her nerves had settled, she would have to fashion some kind of dress out of it. But for the moment she surrendered her body to the comforting rhythm of the truck's vibration and tried to sort out in her mind everything that had happened to her.
They had always told her in the orphanage that she was pretty, and would attract men, but no one had ever suggested that she was a walking invitation to rape, and the knowledge that men's passions were that strong was new and horrifying. Even worse was the terrible way she had reacted to Wilson's lascivious, assault on her desire-provoking young body. All these things were to be avoided in the future, if possible, since she could not possibly go through life having men stick their cocks into her every time they felt like it, and then sailing off into magnificent orgasms when she should be screaming and wailing for her lost innocence. Particularly when there were people like Krim around who became very concerned about her lost innocence and were prepared to kill in order to avenge it. Mandy shivered as she recalled the deaths of the three men who had been debauching her helplessly vulnerable body, and decided that what she wanted was a calm peaceful life, with no more scenes like that. The radio clicked on in the cab and the two drivers, who had been arguing about MacArthur's strategy in the Korean War, fell silent as a newscaster's voice sputtered over the air waves, "... and the President announced that as a result of his recent trip to Outer Mongolia, a generation of peace for mankind was definitely just around the corner. Meanwhile, in related developments, a spokesman for the Air Force announced that two-hundred-million tons of bombs had been dropped yesterday on Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, South Vietnam and islands in the China Sea ..."
"Turn that fucking thing off," ordered Max, but Ernie disagreed, as usual, claiming that he wanted to hear if whatever had happened at the Mother Truckers' Grill had made the radio. It had.
"In local news tonight, we have preliminary reports of a slaughter on Interstate Number Nine. According to police, a youthful immigrant named Bangladesh apparently murdered the owner of a roadside restaurant and two friends, evidently in a dispute over a young woman, now missing from the scene of the crime. State Troopers are now searching for a teenage girl, approximately five foot five and one-hundred and fifteen pounds, with black hair and eyes, and a slightly oriental appearance. To aid in identification, police noted that the young woman is believed to be naked ..."
Ernie and Max went back to their original argument over whether or not they should have stayed at the diner and helped the police look for the naked accessory to the brutal murder of three upstanding local businessmen, and Mandy curled up on her burlap bag, her worst fears now confirmed. If a calm peaceful life was what she wanted, she was off to a bum start: wanted by the police and without a stitch of clothing to her name. A tear of self-pity seeping from her eye, she glanced around the back of the truck, irrationally hoping to find a suitcase full of woman's clothing, her size. Instead she found approximately seventy cardboard boxes, each containing a set of Universal Encyclopedias. Idly she reached into one which had come open, and pulled out Volume Three, Baltic to Brail, wondering if there was not some way she could fashion some underwear out of the torn pages.
The idea did not seem too promising. She could imagine herself walking down the street wearing a smart new mini-gown composed of the pages from Volume Three of the Universal Encyclopedia, and then encountering a playful breeze which would separate BENFREY, SIR THEODOR, from BENGALI, PROVINCE OF, permitting a perk naked little hippie to poke through the text. "It's the Oriental murderess of Interstate Number Nine!" someone would scream immediately, and she would be unmasked and carted off the the Women's House of Correction. No, the Universal Encyclopedia might be the key to success, but she would have to look elsewhere for her wardrobe.
Moving cautiously in the back of the swaying, bouncing truck, Mandy explored, prowling through countless crates of Universal Encyclopedias in search of something substantial to wear. There was nothing more than a flimsy curtain separating her from the driver's cabin of the truck where Max and Ernie were hotly disputing whether hippies should be executed on the spot by any public-spirited citizen or merely exiled to some remote Pacific Island which could then be used for the testing of atomic bombs. Behind Max, who was a short, slender man, about Mandy's own height and weight there was a suitcase which Mandy guessed accurately might contain clothing for times when they were forced to overnight in hotels. Behind Ernie, a big powerfully built man who was sprawled in the passenger seat, there was also a suitcase, but Emie was several sizes too big for her, and the suitcase looked too heavy to lift. Gently, she tugged at the handle and hoisted Max's suitcase out from behind the seat. It was difficult to manage and she inadvertently exposed herself momentarily in the driver's rear view mirror. Max immediately took his foot off the gas, guiding the truck into the right-hand lane, cutting off a Lincoln Continental he had been in the process of overtaking. As the Lincoln went into the ditch, Max cleared his throat timidly.
"Listen, Ernie, there's something I gotta tell you," he said in a strangled voice, peering into the rear-view mirror as Mandy disappeared into the darkness. "There's a naked girl in the back of our truck, and she just stole my suitcase!"
"When the fuck are you gonna learn to keep to one beer when we stop for lunch? For
Christ's Sakes! You almost creamed that car!"
"Ernie, now I don't expect you to take my word for it, but put your hand behind my seat and see if my suitcase is there, will you."
Ernie snarled irritably and fumbled in the dark.
"Funny, I put both bags in myself," he muttered. "What the hell do ya suppose happened to it?"
"I told ya, a naked girl, just took it!"
"Would you mind explaining to me what a naked girl is doing in the back of our truck? You know how the boss feels about hitchhikers!"
"Ernie, I bet she's the girl from the diner, the one we heard about on the radio," suggested Max brightly, craning his neck to see into the darkness in the back of the truck. "Hey, girl come on up and let's talk!"
Mandy was frantically trying to open the driver's suitcase, but it was apparently locked, and she looked up as he called to her over his shoulder, a deep forboding sense of impending doom hovering over her. Would they take her to the police?
"Oh ... I didn't mean to cause any trouble," she whimpered, badly frightened, but stepping unsteadily towards the front of the truck in instinctive obedience. "I was just wondering if I could possibly borrow some clothes.
I . .. uh .. . don't seem to have any."
Ernie pushed the curtain aside, his eyes widening with amazement as he watched the delectably voluptuous young girl come modestly towards them, one hand desperately trying to cover the tantalizing dark triangle of her pussy while the other fluttered nervously back and forth between her ripely succulent breasts as if she could not decide which of her two lush firm little nipples deserved the most protection. As she approached the two seats in the cab, Ernie reached out abruptly, seized the helpless girl by the wrist and dragged her roughly into his lap.
"Well, Max, look at what we got here!" he crowed triumphantly as Mandy's eyes flashed in terror. The drivers did not seem like bad men, but they were tough, hard-living knights of the highway, used to taking their fun where they could find it, and the unexpected pleasure of discovering a sumptuously naked girl in their truck was bound to have an unsettling effect upon them.
"Gee, Ernie, what'U we do with her?" the short slender man named Max wanted to know. "Well, the radio said the cops were looking for her," muttered Ernie with a sinister grin as his hand fondled Mandy's sensuous young breasts, his cock slowly hardening in his pants.
. "No ... please ... it was all a mistake!" the girl entreated him piteously. "Don't take me to the police."
"Then you'd better do what you're told," he instructed her cruelly, his hands still wandering obscenely over her naked body. "Me and Max are gonna have a little fun with you, girlie, and you're gonna be real nice to us, right?"
Mandy tried to think, as well as she could with the trucker's calloused hands swarming lustfully over her helplessly naked body. She was totally under the power of these two men and she needed their cooperation if she expected to get some clothing and possibly some money. If they wanted sex . . . well, she'd been through it all before with Mr. Wilson. Apparently men were always going to want sex from her. Particularly when she popped up out of nowhere stark naked. You've got no choice, she told herself, trying to crush what was left of her conscience. You couldn't fight them off if you tried. They might even give you some money . ..
But she found it impossible to concentrate on her thoughts. Beneath her Mandy could feel Ernie's long pulsating cock hardening into lascivious rigidity, and she realized that conscience or no conscience she was going to get it from this man right here in the front of a speeding truck and the best she could hope for was the Max would keep his eyes on the road long enough to avoid a fatal collision. Ernie's hands were exploring her now, and she twitched uncomfortably as his fingers deftly invaded the sensitive region of her genitals. For a long time he probed, grinning at her like the devil incarnate while his lewdly invading fingertips caressed the softly quivering petals of her vagina. Then, chuckling under his breath with perverted joy, his hand plunged even further between her outstretched legs, and a fingertip brushed obscenely across the tiny puckered hole of her virginal anus.
"Hmmmmm, nice and tight down here," he commented lewdly to his companion. "That's what I really like, baby! You ain't never had it in the ass before, have you?"
Suddenly the girl's body went rigid with shock and fear. What on earth was he talking about? Maybe animals did such things . . . but people? It was impossible!
"Come on Ernie, do something!" Max begged his partner sincerely. "We're gonna be in downtown L.A. in an hour, and we can't be fucking her in traffic!"
"Okay, baby, we'll forget about that sweet little asshole for awhile," Ernie decreed. "Right now I'd like a little action out of that lovely mouth of yours. Whatsa matter? I thought you Orientals went in big for that sorta thing!"
Mandy suddenly found herself being maneuvered down onto the floor of the cab as Ernie forced her into a kneeling position between his outstretched legs. She was too stunned by what was happening to her to think clearly, but in the back of her mind, she recalled Andrews boasting that he was going to take her in the mouth. He had never lived to do it, poor man, but now she understood that there was one more thing about men which she had never known before. It seemed that there were quite a few things they had not taught her in the orphanage.
Ernie's pants were open, and everytime the truck passed under one of the street lights along the side of the highway, a quick flood of light invaded the cab giving her a glimpse of the truck driver's penis. It was even bigger than Mel Wilson's had been, protruding obscenely from his pants like the massive trunk of a tree, and she watched with horror as he adjusted his clothes to reveal his two huge sperm-filled testicles.
No, it's impossible! she told herself in an agony of humiliation. No, it's not impossible, she contradicted herself almost immediately. If you expect to get out of this mess in one piece it had better not be impossible! The man was clean, and the strong odor of maleness which crept into her nostrils was not unpleasant, in fact, in a strange erotic way, the scent was almost arousing. Timidly, she curled her fingers around the shaft of his massive cock, hearing Ernie grunt with pleasure at the soft touch of her hands on his rigid flesh.
"Go on, baby, suck!" he commanded harshly, and she realized that there was no point in postponing the inevitable. It had to be done. She was not sure precisely how a woman went about this kind of thing, but she had learned enough about Ernie's personality in the past few minutes to guess that he would inform her if she did it wrong. Taking a deep breath, she touched the softly yielding moistness of her lips to the pulsating rigidity of his penis. The taste was pungent and salty. Experimentally, she kissed the bulging red glans, guessing that it was proper to start slowly and work up gradually to the moment when she accepted his hardened manhood into the sanctuary of her mouth. The truck-driver's hips began to flex slowly back and forth, and the inexperienced girl interpreted this as an encouraging sign. At least he had not hit her yet. Now bolder, she washed him with her tongue, teasing him lingeringly.
"Go to it baby!" Ernie congratulated her obscenely. "We'll make a cocksucker out of you yet."
Knowing that she was going to hate herself for this later, Mandy caressed the man's bulging testicles, feeling his two enormous cum-filled balls and realizing that her job was to suck that semen out of his body into hers. His cock jerked spasmodically as she took him into her mouth, closing her lips gently over the pulsating scarlet glans until it disappeared from view inside her hungry mouth. Now that she had thrown herself into the vilely perverted act, it seemed to be easier, and she felt her naked young body trembling wildly as some of Ernie's powerful lust communicated itself to her. My God, am I enjoying this? she asked herself in sudden panic. What kind of a woman am I, anyway? A whore? Is that what I've been all this time without knowing it?
"Concentrate," rumbled the truck driver menacingly, sensing that her mind was wandering from the task at hand. She responded actively to his command, opening her lips wide and sucking his bludgeoning rod further and further into the depths of her throat. At first she gagged, strangling as his meaty glans tickled her tonsils, but with a moment's practice; she quickly got the hang of it, learning to breathe on Ernie's backstrokes and control the gagging reflex whenever he plunged extra deeply into her throat.
"Mmmmmmmmmm," she moaned in masochistic pleasure, realizing from his reactions that she had mastered the art and was now really doing it well. The man's straining instrument was getting hotter by the moment, and Mandy found it necessary to swallow continuously because of the semen which was seeping from the overstimulated glans. Instinctively, Mandy knew he was close to an orgasm, close to that awful moment when he would shoot his hot sticky cum into the depths of her throat. The thought repelled her, but at the same time she understood that his cumming into her virginal mouth was the logical result of what she was doing. It had to be! Knowing that it was inevitable, she suddenly found herself looking forward to the orgiastic moment, and working like a slave girl to make it happen. Ernie was really getting hot now, jerking his hips convulsively back and forth as he drove his inflated rod in and out of her cruelly stretched mouth while she sucked him off like a madwoman.
And then, finally, she got the reward he had in store for her! The truck driver's cock seemed to grow another inch or two, swelling up to unbelievable proportions, as the man seized her head in a death grip. He was fucking into her savagely now, skewering into her exhausted mouth as if it were merely another cunt, and mews and hums of submissively masochistic acceptance rumbled deep in Mandy's throat as the waves of warm sperm began to spurt furiously from the ejaculating glans, spewing obscenely into the back of her throat. He was in her so far now that she had the choice of swallowing his hot sticky cum or choking on it, and somehow she managed to get it down, her Adam's apple bouncing frantically as she drank the lust-inciting liquid from deep in his loins. Convulsively, insanely, the girl gulped as the cum seemed to spray eternally into the back of her throat, and as she milked him dry, she felt her body trembling with the savage lust he had inadvertently aroused within her. The taste of cum was like an aphrodisiac, and as his cock slowly wilted into uselessness, she found herself hoping desperately and irrationally that the other man would take her into the back of the truck and make love to her the regular way. God, she needed it bad!
But she was not destined to get it, at least not on this occasion.
"Man, that was like a million dollars!" proclaimed Ernie joyfully as he withdrew his glisteningly wilted cock from her ravaged mouth and pulled her back up onto his lap so that he could continue fondling her while he talked to Max.
"Hey, when do I get mine? Here, you take over the wheel."
"Nan, jus' stay where you are," ordered Ernie carelessly. "She can suck from any angle, can't you, kid?"
Abruptly, Mandy found herself stretched out on her stomach between the two drivers, her loins resting on Ernie's legs and her face thrust into Max's groin. The driver was all ready, his slender penis jutting out of his open fly. Supporting herself on her elbows, the girl resigned herself to the inevitable and went to work, closing her mouth lasciviously over Max's diminuative organ. After the session with Ernie, she was in good form, and she quickly brought the second driver to the brink of an orgasm, manipulating his balls with her hands while she sucked on him expertly with her talented lips.
Meanwhile, Ernie was feeling distinctly frisky again, and the girl groaned and winced as he twisted and played with the softly yielding spehere of her white half-moons, offered up to him like a pagan sacrifice. She might have been ready to enjoy even this humiliating indignity had the big trucker played with the weakly convulsing lips of her pussy, but perversely he seemed to prefer the tiny elastic opening of her anus.
Max came in record time, nearly involving them in a head-on collision as he collapsed groaning over the steering wheel and Mandy automatically gulped the delicate surge of cum which trickled into her mouth. Even in her limited experience with men, she was beginning to get the idea that Max was not the most masculine male she had ever met. But there was no time for a detailed consideration of the matter, since as she lay sprawled on their laps, Max's wilted cock still resting limply in her exhausted mouth, Ernie suddenly inserted the blunt tip of his index finger into the tempting little orifice of her rectum.
"Aaaaaagggggghhhhhh!" she groaned, her voice muffled by the presence of Max's flaccid cock in her mouth.
"Ernie, what the fuck are you doing?" Max demanded, disappointed that his pleasure had been so brief and envious of his more virile partner.
"I got my finger in the sweetest little asshole you ever saw," he reported, his voice positively rumbling with unnaturally perverted lust, and Mandy felt another shock run through her system as she felt that his penis was once again hard and erect. My God, how long did they intend to keep this up?
"Christ, Ernie, we're on the freeway!" exploded Max. "We'll be in downtown L.A. in five minutes and somebody'll see us!"
"All right, all right, I'll take her in back," Ernie decided quickly, lifting the frightened girl in his muscular arms and depositing her on a crate of Universal Encyclopedias, "But I'd hate myself forever if I didn't take advantage of an opportunity like this!"
"Who. . . what are you going to do?" quavered the girl as she retreated in terror to the rear of the truck, her dark oriental eyes widened with feat as she watched the lust-maddened driver climb over the seat and advance lasciviously toward her, his long, rejuvenated cock waving in front of him like a spear.
"Baby, I'm gonna give you your first lesson in ass-fucking," he told her succinctly, stroking his organ obscenely to keep his erection hard firm. Mandy took one quick look at his bulbous flesh-destroying cock, and knew with the sure savage instinct of a cornered jungle animal, that she was going to have to fight back or this monster would rip her to pieces trying to force that oversized cock into her unused anal passage. It had hurt bad enough when he put only his finger into her, and his extended, fully erected penis was ten-times thicker!
Seeing that she was prepared to resist, Ernie charged, hoping to overpower her with a massive display of force. It was not a wise decision because precisely at the same moment, Max found it necessary to swerve sharply to avoid hitting two teenagers who were idling along in a slow-moving Volkswagen, passing a marijuana cigarette back and forth between them. As the truck lurched, Ernie slid to the right, desperately seizing the tailgate to avoid being thrown out of the vehicle altogether. Then Max swerved back into the right-hand lane again to allow a Cadillac to overtake them, hitting a cavernous pot-hole in the center of the road. For a minute the entire truck seemed to launch itself into the air like a bomber struggling to clear the runway, and then it settled down to earth again. Without Ernie.
"Sorry about that, folks," called Max politely from the front, but only Mandy heard him.
Had the owner of the Volkswagen not been smoking pot, he might have avoided hitting the man who came tumbling out of the back of the Universal Encyclopedia truck but in his slightly dazed condition, he could not react fast enough. Ernie had only broken an arm and dislocated a shoulder falling out of the truck, but the VW rolled over his legs, crushing his bones into powder. He would still have lived to curse the day he first laid eyes on Mandy, but the back wheels of the VW sent his blood-covered body out into the opposite lane of traffic, where the owner of a 1959 Chevrolet had the honor of driving over Ernie's head.
A 1959 Chevrolet was never really much of a car, but it did the trick as far as Ernie was concerned.
At the corner of Elk Street and Murdock Avenue, Max brought the Universal Encyclopedia truck to a halt for thirty seconds waiting for a red light to change into green. The green flashed, after what seemed to be an unusually long wait, and Max mechanically put the truck into first gear, and rolled forward.
"Hey, Ernie, you got it in yet?" he called cheerfully, but his time no one heard him at all, since Mandy had slipped nakedly over the tailgate, carrying Max's suitcase and Volume Three of the Universal Encyclopedia, and darted quickly into a dark alley which led to the service entrance of the Willowing Heights Hotel. Max assumed that Ernie was in one of his moods, and began to whistle softly as he maneuvered the truck through the late-evening traffic.
Chapter Three
"Thank God!" breathed Mandy gratefully as she discovered that the service entrance to the hotel was open, and she quickly stepped inside, knowing that several amazed pedestrians had seen her leaping stark naked from the back of the truck and race down the first dark alley, and it was possible that someone could take it into his head to follow her. Inside, she found herself in an empty corridor, but the smell and sound of frying meat informed her that she was close to the hotel's kitchens. She could hear the cook shouting at his assistants and, while she looked around her, frantically searching for a place to hide, the swinging doors of the kitchen burst open and an old waiter sailed out, nearly stumbling over her.
"You better get back to your room, dearie," he advised her severely, as he balanced a tray of medium-rare steaks over his head. "Mr. Marvel can get very upset over something like this." And then, without another glance in her direction, the waiter disappeared off in the direction of what must have been the dining room, leaving Mandy shivering with fright, the suitcase over her inviting little pussy and the encyclopedia covering her lushly ample young breasts. The waiter had obviously mistaken her for one of the guests, and she decided to disappear before he thought better of it and came back to investigate. Lugging the suitcase as best she could, the naked teenager located a door which led to a staircase, and she darted quickly up to the second floor where she found herself in an empty corridor, lined with doors. Desperately, she began turning handles until she found one which yielded to the pressure of her hand. She entered, taking particular care not to bang Max's suitcase against anything.
"Oh that's good, that's good, that's good!" a woman's voice floated in from the bedroom, and Mandy realized that she had been unlucky again. The room was occupied! She took a quick glimpse around the corner, seeing a man and woman - both as naked as she - copulating wildly on the bed. Fascinated, despite her personal troubles, she watched while the man achieved an orgasm and the two of them lay panting in one another's arms.
"Gosh, if my husband found out I was screwing another man," the girl gasped happily.
"he'd kill me. What would your wife do?"
Mandy never found out because she had slipped into the bathroom and gently closed the door behind her. It was obvious that those two were not planning on going anywhere for awhile, and even if they did find her, they were hardly in a position to do a lot of noisy protesting. She held still for a second, her heart in her mouth while she waited to see if they had heard her, but the only sound from the bedroom was the murmur of adulterous voices, some music as a radio was switched on, and finally, the groaning of bedsprings as the two sinners went at it again. Exhausted, Mandy borrowed a fingernail scissors from over the sink and sank down on the edge of the bathtub to open Max's suitcase.
A moment's maneuvering with the cheap lock did the trick, and she sighed with happiness as she opened the suitcase and saw a suit of clothes. Granted, they were clothes for a man, but it had been such a long time since she had a stitch of clothing to cover her nakedness that Max's best suit seemed like a garment fit for a king. And her size, too!
It felt a little funny putting on the underpants, but they fit, and she slipped Max's undershirt over her ripely succulent breasts, wishing for the first time in her life that she was not quite so full in the bosom. She could almost pass for a young boy ...
The idea struck her, in all its magnificent implications. The police were looking for an oriental girl, and she was going to attract a lot of attention running around in a man's suit of clothing. But if she could successfully imitate a boy until she got some money in her pocket and had decided what she was going to do . . .
Moving quickly, she used one of Max's loud vulgar ties as a kind of improvised brassiere, trying to anchor down her sensually swaying breasts. Then she put on his best white shirt and fastened another tie around her neck. The pants and shoes fitted her perfectly, and she faced herself in the bathroom mirror, still wondering if she could possibly get away with it! Too much hair! Finding a pair of scissors, she hacked away at her long black tresses, feeling badly about cutting off her beautiful hair, but realizing that almost any sacrifice was better than an encounter with the police. She sheared herself to the approximate length of a boy's hair, wiped off what little remained of her lipstick, and then studied herself again in the mirror. Not perfect, but it would have to do. Repacking the suitcase and slipping volume three of the encyclopedia under her arm, she slipped out of the bathroom, colliding with the naked woman who had recently been in bed with her adulterous lover.
"Ahhh! Henry! There's a man in here!" she yelped, modestly covering her moist blonde pussy.
"Excuse me, lady! I was looking for room two sixty-eight," Mandy replied, artificially lowering her voice to the deepest possible note and backing out into the hall. So far so good.
"Hey, you the guy they sent over from the agency?" demanded Mr. Marvel severely, stepping out from behind the registration desk. "You took your time about getting here!" Mr. Marvel was the proud possessor of a bachelor's degree in public administration from Cornell, and he prided himself on running the Willowy Heights Hotel with the precision of a Swiss watch. When he called the employment agency for a new man, he expected that man to be on time. But instead of launching into his usual tirade on the virtues of punctuality, Marvel's eyes softened as he surveyed this prospective employee. The truth of the matter was that
Edgar L. Marvel had a tiny, tiny weakness for pretty boys like this one, and this was a very pretty boy indeed. He put a fatherly hand on Mandy's shoulder, noticing how soft and sensitive this young lad's face was. He had not even begun to shave yet, and his voice was still not completely changed. Certainly a boy like this would respond to the attentions of an older and more sophisticated man like him!
"What's your name, son?" Marvel asked, giving Mandy a friendly little wink. "Uh ... Mark, sir," replied the girl. "Fine, Mark. Tonight we'll get you fixed up with a place to sleep, and tomorrow I'll explain your duties. We have an orthodontist's convention here at the moment, and the Sons of the Pioneers Ball is coming up. Lots of work; so get a good night's sleep. And uh . . . your room happens to be next to mine, so, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to .. . uh . .. bang on my door."
The room he gave her was tiny and on the top floor, but Mandy was in seventh heaven, overjoyed at her good fortune at finding a safe haven so quickly and easily. And, with a little money coming in, she would be able to make plans and decide what she was going to do next. The girl was exhausted by the events of the day, but it was nearly three in the morning, and she fell asleep the moment she got Max's clothing off and crawled between the sheets.
Room service awakened her in the morning and the man at the reception desk told her to stop by the kitchen for some breakfast and then report to him for assignment of duties. Mandy climbed into the clothing, spent a few minutes walking back and forth before her mirror to master the technique of striding like a man and then rode the elevator down to the ground floor for breakfast. Fortunately, the waiter who had seen her crouching stark naked in the corridor was not on duty and Mandy decided that she had better avoid him for a few days if it was at all possible. Gobbling a couple of eggs and some toast, she downed a cup of coffee and went out to find Mr. Marvel.
"We won't have time to train you for awhile yet," explained the manager, carelessly running his fingers through her hair. "So today we'll let you do some odd jobs. For starters, why don't you help out with the room service?"
For the next hour, Mandy stood by the registration desk, and, as calls came down for coffee or extra towels, or aspirin, she located whatever was needed and carried it to the guest. In every case, she was tipped a quarter or half-dollar, and the first few times, she had to fight back the temptation to thrust the coins into her underpants, the way she had while an employee of Mr. Wilson's. The money felt good, jingling in her pockets, and together with her salary, she felt she would soon have enough funds to strike out on her own. And the first time she had a free moment, she realized that she needed a brassiere, since, whenever she forgot herself and moved too quickly, her full sensuous breasts swayed alarmingly beneath her suit-coat. If they ever asked her to remove her jacket, she was lost. Of course, buying a brassiere presented difficulties of a practical nature. Since all she had was male clothing, how precisely was she to walk into a woman's wear shop and select a brassiere for herself, much less try it out? She was worrying about the problem at ten-twenty when the call came down from Mrs. Jacobs in room six twenty-two, asking for bicarbonate of soda. Mrs. Jacobs had a stomachache.
"For Christ's sake, be polite to her," whispered Marvel as Mandy left to execute the order. "Her husband's president of the National Dental Society, and they come back every year for their convention, all three hundred of them!"
Mandy knocked on the door to room six twenty-two, and a deep alto voice told her to come in. Mrs. Jacobs had thrown off the covers and was lying on the bed with only a sheet covering her body, apparently naked underneath. Mandy had never spent much time examining other women or their bodies, but she noticed immediately that Mrs. Jacobs was a very well-preserved lady about thirty-five with deep pendulous breasts and long finely tapered thighs.
"Oh, thank you for coming!" said the guest, examining Mandy very carefully. "Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water from the bathroom?"
Obediently, Mandy fetched the glass, mixed the bicarbonate of soda, and handed it to the ailing lady, who, in fact, seemed to be not really all that sick. Mandy wondered where her husband was and then recalled that there were speeches being made in the hotel's convention hall and decided that Mr. Jacobs was probably addressing his fellow dentists. Guessing that the lady would probably not wish to climb out of bed to give her a tip, Mandy bowed politely and moved towards the door.
"Oh wait . . . You're new here; aren't you?" Mrs. Jacobs inquired, shifting her position in bed carelessly, so that one mountainous breast nearly popped out from beneath the sheet.
"Yes, ma'am!" Mandy replied, retracing her steps back to the bed.
"Well, you're a very handsome young man. I shall speak to the manager and tell him how very helpful you've been."
"Oh well, thank you, ma'am!" Mandy stood first on one foot and then the other, not knowing quite what was expected of her.
"Sit there on the edge of the bed, won't you? That's right! Now, if you'd like to be very helpful and earn yourself a perfectly fantastic tip, why don't you rub my stomach a little? I have the most terrible ache."
Marvel had said to do anything she wanted, Mandy recalled, so she made haste to execute these strange instructions, perching nervously on the edge of the bed and laying her hand on Mrs. Jacobs' flat smooth stomach.
"Ah . . . that's right!" sighed the full-breasted woman contentedly as the girl began to rub, moving her hand gently in circles. "Harder, if you please . . . ah . . . that's much better ... Hmmmmm ... you're really very good! You should give massages ... A little lower, dear..."
Obediently, Mandy lowered her hand, rubbing the softly yielding flesh between the woman's hips - despite the fact that this area was no longer, strictly speaking, the stomach. Mrs. Jacobs groaned with pure animal happiness and then gently took Mandy's hand in hers, gradually inching it even farther down so that the palm of the girl's hand was resting indecently on the soft hair-covered mound of Mrs. Jacobs' pussy. As she moved, one of her breasts accidentally became uncovered and a hard erected nipple appeared, but Mandy decided it would not be discreet to say anything at all and continued rubbing.
"Oh ... oh ... yes! Rub it like that ... Oh, my stomach is getting better by the second ..." the woman babbled jubilantly, guiding Mandy's hand as the girl leaned over the bed and rubbed with all her might. Another sumptuous breast appeared and soon the sheet was hunched around Mrs. Jacobs' middle. Mandy was experienced enough to understand by this point exactly what she was doing, realizing that, if the lady had a stomachache, it had disappeared a long time ago, but she could honestly think of no reasonable way of breaking off this obscene encounter. If Mrs. Jacobs were to complain to Mr. Marvel, she would be fired, and if caressing another woman's moistly flowing pussy was what it took to hold this job, then that was what she would do!
"This sheet is in the way, damnit!" groaned the orthodontist's wife, lifting Mandy's hand momentarily off of her throbbing cunt and yanking the sheet violently to one side. "Now!" she cried triumphantly, putting the girl's hand back down directly on her nakedly convulsing flesh. Mandy tried to feel appropriately shocked at this bizarre behavior as she went back to work, pushing her fingers directly into the moistly willing flesh of another woman's churning cunt, but actually, after everything that had happened recently, she had about decided that there was nothing left in the world which could really shock her.
Besides, it was fun! She had never before touched a woman's genital organs, except for her own, and she began to explore, allowing her little baby finger to sink down through the wildly convulsing lips of Mrs. Jacob's vagina, slipping into the hotly grinding tunnel of her cunt. The woman groaned and began massaging her own breasts as Mandy's hand worked over her jewel-like little clitoris, agitating the tiny sex organ until it felt hot to her touch.
"Oh my God . . . that's right. .. harder The woman's hips were gyrating furiously now and suddenly she rolled on her side, clasping her hands around Mandy's arm, an absolute howl rising from her lips.
"Now . . . now . . . My stomachache is beetttteerrrrrr..."
For a few moments, Mrs. Jacobs lay panting, slowly releasing Mandy's arm. Quickly the girl spread the crumpled sheet over the woman's thoroughly satisfied body, discreetly wiping the vaginal fluid off her fingers as she tucked her in.
"Ah . .. Thank you so much!" Mrs. Jacobs purred happily. "My stomach is much better now. Would you mind passing me my purse?"
Mandy handed her a rich brown alligator purse, and the wealthy woman burrowed around inside for a moment before coming up with three ten dollar bills which she crushed into Mandy's hand.
"That's for the bicarbonate of soda," she murmured with a sheepish smile. "Perhaps you could stop by again tomorrow morning. I so frequently have stomachaches ..."
"Despite their chronic poverty, the people of Bangladesh have developed over the centuries a philosophy of incredible richness and profundity," Mandy read in volume three of the Universal Encyclopedia while sitting in the tiny bedroom they had given her on the top floor of the Willowy Heights Hotel. "Bengali mystics have long maintained that all material possessions inevitably lead to evil, and some sects practice the belief that even clothing is immoral, holding that nudity brings them closer to Rathmun, which is the Bengali term for the pure heavenly spirit."
Sounds like a lot of nonsense to me, Mandy considered. I could use a few material possessions, and when I ran around without my clothes, people were always raping me. If that isn't immoral, I don't know what is! But volume three was the only book she possessed, and the article on Bangladesh was interesting, so the young woman read on, her keen retentive mind absorbing knowledge like a sponge.
"The most exceptional aspect of Bengali philosophy is the incredible control certain holy men and woman have been able to acquire over their bodies. Some Bengali priests and nuns have demonstrated the capacity to stop their hearts for periods of up to a minute, and legend has it that the Narthusi, or Bengali courtesans, have developed the ability to produce orgasms spontaneously without sexual contacts of any kind. Despite efforts by the government to control it, Narthusism, or transsexual meditation, is widely practiced in the rural parts of the country ..."
Now that would be interesting if it were true,. Mandy decided, remembering the intense physical joy she had experienced when Mel Wilson had savagely fucked her. Imagine, being able to cum whenever you wanted to, just by thinking about!
Dropping the encyclopedia on the floor, Mandy concentrated for a moment, wondering if she had somehow inherited this marvelous talent from her Japanese mother, but gave it up after a few minutes when nothing seemed to be happening. With a sigh, she got to her feet and paced the floor. Feeling cramped and suffocated, she opened the window of her room, clinging to the frame as she fought off a brief bout of vertigo. It was seventeen stories to the busy street below, and it made her slightly nervous just to stand next to the window. But the room became stuffy otherwise, and the soft breezes of evening floated caressingly over her body.
She was tired. After four consecutive days of curing Mrs. Jacobs' stomachaches, she had earned one hundred and twenty dollars in a way which probably would have shocked the American Medical Association but suited Mandy's empty pocketbook just fine. The dentists convention had departed, going back to the business of straightening America's crooked teeth, and the staff and management of the Willowing Heights Hotel had spent the day frantically preparing for the Sons of the Pioneers, Ball, which was tonight. Mandy could already hear the orchestra playing, and down on the street below her, limousines and taxis were clustered around the main entrance to the hotel, depositing the rich and elegant Sons of the Pioneers for a night of dancing and champagne. It was supposed to be the social event of the year, but the girl was too tired to go down to the ballroom and see what high society really looked like. She was off duty now, and it was time to go to bed.
With a sigh of relief, she kicked off her shoes, or Max's shoes, to be precise, and hung the truck-driver's pants and coat in her closet. She had removed his underpants and was undoing the buttons on the shirt when the door opened and Edgar L. Marvel walked in!
Mandy's mind worked fast, and she kept her back to him, reasoning that, since she was supposed to be a man, and therefore should not get upset about having another man see her bare buttocks. Just as long as he could be prevented from seeing what she had, or more precisely, did not have, on the other side.
"Oh . . . Mr. Marvel," she fluttered, almost forgetting to lower her voice. "I didn't..."
"I've been neglecting you, my dear boy," said the hotel manager, a strange tone in his voice. "A young lad like you, alone and defenseless in the world, needs company, and I thought that the two of us could spend some time together. I do hope my rank and importance won't keep us from becoming friends."
"Oh ... of course not," she stammered, not knowing quite what he was driving at. She felt silly keeping her back turned on him, but, even if she held something over her adolescent pussy, the hotel manager could hardly help but notice the richly swelling globes of her breasts, particularly since she was wearing nothing under Max's white shirt. But Marvel did not seem to mind. In fact, he seemed particularly fascinated by the tender half-moons of her buttocks.
"Good heavens, you seem to have a bruise on your left cheek, Mark," he said, coming forward and bending to examine her bottom attentively. "However did that happen?"
It was true. At the climax of Mrs. Jacobs' last upset stomach, the dentist's wife had reached out unexpectedly, seized a handful of Mandy's tender behind and squeezed with all her might. She had not paid much attention at the time, but this affectionate gesture had left a sizeable black and blue mark.
"Oh... I banged into a table..." she muttered unconvincingly, but Mr. Marvel seemed to be too preoccupied with the bruise on her softly tempting ass-cheek to be paying much attention.
"My dear boy, a thing like this could be very serious," he muttered, turning her around so that the light from the window fell over her taut boyish flanks. "I'll rub some ointment on it and that'll make it feel better, eh? Just stretch out on the bed!"
"Oh really ..." Mandy began to protest, but Marvel marched her to the edge of the bed, and she quickly stretched out on it face down as he picked up a bottle of Vaseline which some previous occupant of the room had left behind. She liked nothing at all about this situation, but reasoned that she was better off lying down than standing up, since this way there was less chance of Marvel's prying eyes falling on her nakedly feminine little pussy.
"Now... oh yes, we'd better remove that shirt, Mark," Marvel ordered, sitting beside her on the bed. Don't want to get Vaseline all over it; do we fellow?"
The shirt was quickly unbuttoned, fortunately, and Mandy pulled it quickly out from under her, hastily putting her arms by her sides to cover her ripe young breasts as Marvel stripped away her last article of clothing. She could not understand for the life of her how the hotel manager could look at her lying stark naked before him and still not realize that she was a woman, but he seemed to be quite involved with the bottle of Vaseline. Mandy had heard that Mr. Marvel was a bachelor, and she reasoned that, since he was not married, he might not be intimately familiar with the shape of women's bodies. This explanation did not strike her as overly logical, but she knew that her future depended upon this man's continuing to like her, so she refrained from trying to order him out of her room. If he wanted to rub Vaseline on her bottom, that was his silly business!
And Marvel seemed to be taking this particular business very seriously indeed! Mandy grunted and wiggled uncomfortably as the hotel manager rubbed her smoothly yielding buttocks fiercely, realizing that he was deriving some sensual pleasure from this evil caress, but unable to understand why. Could he possibly have seen through her disguise? Did he know she was a girl? And was this the beginning of a sexual assault?
"A man gets lonesome sometimes," Marvel commented philosophically as he kneaded and pinched the ripely tantalizing half-moons of her behind. "And when a boy like you comes into his life ..."
Hearing him refer to her as a boy with such profound conviction, Mandy relaxed, deciding that there was no immediate danger. Apparently, Mr. Marvel was not too observant about some things, but, if he kept on stroking her so hungrily, things were definitely going to get out of hand. He was working the Vaseline in very thoroughly, gradually forcing the two cheeks of Mandy's bottom apart, and, every once in awhile, he allowed one of his lecherous fingers to stray down into the moist furrow in between. Each time the tip of his finger passed licentiously over the puckered little tip of her anus, Mandy found herself shivering with a combination of sexual delight and horror, for she had learned how terribly sensitive her body was at that particular spot!
"Please . . . Mr. Marvel..."
"Call me Edgar!" the manager insisted.
"Please, Edgar ..." she croaked hoarsely as Marvel dipped his finger again into the jar of Vaseline and began running it persistently back and forth over the tightly clenched hole of her rectum. "I think it's feeling better now ..."
"I can feel how you need it!" responded Marvel, his eyes blazing with the perverted sexual fury of having this smooth-bodied boy at his complete and utter disposition. Marvel may have been slightly mistaken over the gender of his sex-partner, but he had seen Mandy's hips begin to twitch and gyrate, knowing immediately that he was on his way to a new conquest.
"No . . .no!" Mandy groaned as she felt his stout middle finger push its way past the frail defenses of the tiny elastic circle, plunging vilely into the delicacy of her nether passage.
God! What a feeling! None of this made the slightest sense to her, but Marvel began yanking his invading finger frenziedly in and out of the rapidly expanding little hole, causing shock waves of illicit pleasure to race up and down her spine, and she gripped the sheet for fear of falling off the bed. What was he doing to her? Where was all of this taking them? Behind her, Marvel was fumbling with his clothing, and the distraught girl twisted her head around in time to see the over-excited hotel manager kick off his pants, freeing his long thin cock for action.
Now she understood!
The farce could go no further! It made no difference if he fired her on the spot or even denounced her to the police, she could not possibly allow him to stick his throbbing male instrument into the virginal confines of her rectum. She tried to roll over, but Marvel placed one hand on the small of her back, pinning her cruelly to the bed while he used his knees to edge her lushly firm thighs farther apart.
"Wait! It's not the way it seems!" she groaned, trying desperately to think of the words which would stop him. "I'm not what you think I am!"
"I know exactly what you are, Mark!" Marvel roared in sensual delight as he guided his slender piercing sword to the portals of her rectum. "I knew you were one of us the moment I laid eyes on you!"
Mandy's scream broke the air as the man's cock broke past the barrier, probing obscenely into the churning depths of her heartlessly violated anus. The girl sobbed wildly, her lust-provoking body gyrating in agony as she tried to escape this vicious sodomy, but Marvel speared her like a butterfly on a pin. Burning like a red-hot poker, she could feel the pulsating glans at the tip of his cock worming its way deeper and deeper into her back passage, and, for a moment, the pain took her breath away. She lay in brutalized, beaten submission as Marvel fucked into her, chuckling with lewdly perverted joy as he battered his way home, burying his cock in her to the hilt.
"Hang on Mark, 'cause Edgar's gonna ride!" he warned her lasciviously as he began to torment her cruelly stretched sphincter, flexing his hardened staff of flesh until she groaned with agony. The pain cleared' her mind, and she covered her face with her hands, trying desperately to decide what to do. Bit by bit, the hurt of Marvel's rear entry was subsiding although it was still too early to pretend that she was having much fun. But he had done the impossible, ramming his rampant cock up inside this unnatural passage, and he'd done it without splitting her in two. She had proved she could take it. Now what did she do with it?
Experimentally, she flexed her buttocks, wondering if there was some way she could shake him loose. Marvel groaned with mindless homosexual pleasure, and immediately, the young girl decided to change her strategy. -It was obvious he was too strong for her and intended to stay where he was until he had achieved his satisfaction, which in this case meant shooting his hotly masculine cum into the unnatural sanctuary of her ass. If she wanted to get him off of her, the only thing to do was to force him to have his vile perverted orgasm as soon as possible. With any luck, he would go away without ever realizing that it was a woman's body he had sodomized, and not a boy's.
"Yes, yes, yes," Marvel was chanting insanely as he began fucking jubilantly in and out of the "young man's" offended bottom, his delight increasing by leaps and bound when Mandy's hips began to twitch and writhe convulsively. I'm turning him on, the manager rejoiced obscenely. These young fellows can't get enough of a cock like mine.
More or less, Marvel was right. Mandy told herself that she was putting on a performance for his benefit as she rocked her buttocks back onto the man's surging penis, and she was, but the acting was not completely genuine. The fact of the matter was that the pain had disappered completely, replaced by a warm tingling glow, and she was frankly beginning to enjoy herself.
My God! I'm starting to be a real whore, she criticised herself, but the lewd glow began to spread, invading her empty cunt as the orgiastic juices flowed out onto the bed beneath her. Is there anything that doesn't turn me on eventually?
There was no answer to her question, and the girl's body quickly surrendered, her last fragments of morality and shame disappearing as she was filled with the lewd and perverted delight of being fucked savagely in the ass by a man who thought she was a boy. She floated higher, a faint layer of fragrant sweat covering her soft skin as the sensation in her overstuffed rectum became unbearably pleasurable, and then moved into that pre-orgiastic stage of feeling sensations beyond pain or pleasure, seemingly of another dimension.
"Oh Christ! Give it to me!" Mandy was groaning, shaking her head frantically back and forth as she felt her climax creeping up on her. "Fuck it harder! Fuck my ass!"
His muscles going rigid with strain, Marvel put his back into the enterprise, skewering in and out of her churning rectum with all the force in his body, noticing with delight that his new little friend had lost complete control over "himself." Mandy was bucking and heaving like a colt being broken to the saddle for the first time, her legs scissoring open and shut as if she were swimming through a sea of some soft warm liquid.
"Oh God!" she mumbled suddenly, shoving a fist into her mouth to keep from screaming aloud. "I think ... I ... I'm cummmiiinngg!"
"Oh, that's right! Mark baby, cum, cum for all you're worth!" Called Edgar Marvel encouragingly, his pulsating cock suddenly going rigid as the clasping walls of the girl's rectum clamped down on him like a vise.
"Ah yes . .. Mark, you're making me cum," he groaned in perfect bliss, his cock feeling as if it were exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.
"Oh Christ!" Mandy moaned as his life-seed flooded into her anal passage, his cock swelling momentarily to twice its normal size, cum spurting violently from the red-hot glans like a stream of water from a firehose. Marvel collapsed over the softly yielding body of his lover as the orgasm wracked his body, trying to kiss the young boy's face. What a perfectly formed young man, he was dreaming happily, his hands languidly caressing the boy's body. What a soft neck! What fresh pink cheeks! What dark expressive eyes! What incredible breasts!
Breasts?
Breasts!!!
In the fury of her burning orgasm, Mandy had rolled on her side, too concerned with the violent storm of lust within her body to remember about concealing her true sex from Edgar Marvel. The man raised himself up on his elbows, his flaccidly deflating penis slipping moistly from Mandy's ravaged anus, watching with horror as the disgusting truth was revealed to him. With a groan, the girl rolled over onto her back, her full, ripely protruding breasts juggling sensually back and forth. Panic-stricken with shock, Marvel's eyes traveled rapidly down the lush contours of the young woman's voluptuous body to the point where he expected to find a jutting young penis.
Instead, Edgar Marvel,'graduate of Cornell in public administration, Class of 1952, saw a pussy, a black-haired moist, churning pussy which would have brought joy to the heart of nearly any man on earth.
Unfortunately, it brought no joy to Edgar's heart. Destroyed, he backed away from the bed, horror and dismay written across his face.
"A girl . . . You're a girl!" he groaned in anguish.
"Mr. Marvel, I can explain everything!" said Mandy, snapping out of her pleasant post-orgasmic fog and sitting up on the bed with her hands covering her breasts, since they seemed to be upsetting Mr. Marvel.
"Let me out of here!" screamed Marvel hysterically, putting his hands over his face so he would see no more of this disgusting, revolting sight. A naked woman, dripping with the sweet fluids of sex, her private parts bared for the world to see! With a final groan of anguish, Marvel turned and hurled himself out what, in his madness, he took to be the door.
Chapter Four
As it happened, of course, the opening through which Edgar Marvel hurled his impassioned body was not the door to his room but the open window. A careful examination of Marvel's psychology would certainly have indicated a life-long tendency to make disastrous mistakes about orifices and openings of various kinds, as his oversight concerning Mandy's posterior revealed, but in this case, the error of leaping out of a seventeenth-story window proved remarkably difficult to remedy. At least this was the discouraging conclusion drawn by a middle-aged couple in Room 1307 as they saw Marvel plummet past their window.
"Did you see that guy go by the window?" Mr. George Bellow of Winchester, Connecticut, commented to his wife Mabel, taking a hefty swig of the bottle of whiskey propped up between them on the bed.
"Ya mean the one with his cock out?" Mrs. Bellow did not normally employ words like "cock" but the fact of the matter was that the
Bellows were about halfway through a three-day bender. In the interest of their marriage, Mr. and Mrs. Bellow did everything together, on the theory that the family that guzzles together, nuzzles together.
"Yeah, wonder what he was doin' goin' by our window with his cock wavin' in the breeze," George considered the matter as carefully as the Jevel of alcohol in his bloodstream would permit.
"One of them dirty exhibissssssionist fellows," Mabel slurred, removing the bottle from her husband's fist and drinking seven ounces of whiskey very quickly.
"Could be," responded George slowly. "But I'd say that was his last exhibisssssshion."
"Reckon so, George. He didn't have much of a cock anyway."
Actually, in the interests of strict scientific accuracy, it should be noted that Marvel did not fall seventeen straight stories to the street. Just after he provoked disapproving comment from Mr. and Mrs. Bellow by falling past their window with his private parts showing, Marvel hit a flag pole jutting out like an erected penis from the side of the Willowy Heights Hotel which cut off his right arm and his head, transforming him into three inanimate falling objects and a certain amount of messy blood instead of one live falling object. The head, wearing an expression of deep remorse, bounced onto the balcony of a room belonging to Mr. Ronald Gilmore of Salt Lake City, a Mormon gentleman of considerable piety, who looked out his window, saw Marvel's head looking at him disconsolately and promptly took the Lord's name in vain, as he called Room Service for a double Scotch. The remainder of Marvel's body continued its rapid downward descent, landing on the head of the Honorable Benjamin Worthington, a district court judge who was emerging from a cab in front of the hotel in order to attend the Sons of the Pioneers Annual Ball for which he was twenty minutes late. Had he been able to, Judge Worthington would have handed down a severe sentence to Marvel for falling into a public street with his parts showing, since he was known to be particularly unforgiving in sex offender cases. Unfortunately for the public decency, Judge Worthington was also killed instantly when Marvel's thigh-bone went approximately four inches into his skull. The cabbie removed the ten dollar bill still clutched in Judge Worthington's outstretched but lifeless hand and drove away rapidly, before anybody else dropped out of the sky and hit him on the head.
For about two minutes, Mandy sat nakedly on top of the rumpled bed, looking at the window through which Marvel had so recently disappeared, too shocked even to consider going into hysterics. What snapped her out of it was the police sirens. People who survive in difficult situations tend to do so by developing the habit of thinking about survival while other people are having hysterics. In Mandy's case, the police sirens reminded her that, as a woman, she was wanted in connection with the violent deaths of Mel Wilson, Tom Anders, Jeff Winters, and if Max had talked, perhaps even a truck driver named Ernie. As a young man, she was very soon to be involved in a discussion with the forces of law and order concerning the circumstances of Edgar Marvel's unusually rapid descent from the top floor of the Willowy Heights Hotel. All in all, it was an exceedingly appropriate time for a rapid change of scene.
She was halfway down the hall before she remembered that she was still naked. The girl paused, badly frightened, hearing the voices of excited people as a crowd raced up the staircase, realizing that her escape route was cut off.
Returning to the room was impossible, or at least inadvisable. Making a quick decision, she dodged into a linen closet and cowered in the darkness as policemen and hotel attendents roared past into her room.
For a long time, she waited, making herself comfortable on a stack of bath towels, trying to make some sense out of the fragments of conversation she heard going by the door to her hiding place. Finally she recognized the voice of the house detective, talking very respectfully to someone who seemed to be in charge.
"Looks like murder, Sir."
"All right, let's get this straight. Who is this Mark guy anyway?"
"It was an oriental kid Mr. Marvel hired," explained the house dick. "Just about as queer as Marvel was if you ask me."
"Coupla queers, eh? Looks like they had a little argument to me ... " The voices drifted away from the door and then back again.
"... motive we can worry about later! Meanwhile we'll get an arrest warrant out for this Mark character. My boys will be watching all the exits if he tries to get away, and the charge is murder!"
Mandy waited. The police photographers and crime lab people came and went. People stood outside the linen closet and discussed Marvel's merits and demerits by the hour. Mandy changed position as silently as she could, wondering if it would be simpler merely to give herself up. Escape was obviously hopeless. She was reduced to the same state she had been in the night she fled from Mr. Wilson's diner, naked and penniless.
Trying not to make the slightest noise, the fugitive felt around her in the darkness searching for something she could use to cover her body. There were certain to be photographers and she did not feel much like being photographed in the nude as the policeman led her away. Her hand fell on a stack of silk sheets used whenever dignitaries checked into the hotel, and she wrapped one of them around her voluptuous young body, fashioning it into a kind of sarong.
The light in the hallway nearly blinded her as she emerged from the closet, but as it happened, there was no one in sight, although voices from her room warned her that she dared not go back for clothing or money. Feeling trapped and despondent, Mandy wandered to the elevator and got into the cage, carelessly punching the button for the gound floor, deciding to try to get out the same door she had come in several days before. If they caught her, then they caught her, she reasoned. What else could she do!
There was a mirror in the elevator and as she sank towards the ground, Mandy surrendered to her feminine instinct and took the trouble to adjust the silk sheet more carefully around the hills and valleys of her splendidly-formed young body. Twisting one corner of this improvised garment, she tied it carefully around her shoulder, and then spread it over her two ripely mature breasts before wrapping the enticingly soft material around her waist. By the time the elevator doors popped open at the ground floor just opposite the entrance to the ballroom, she had contrived a fairly' respectable sarong, even though the girl realized that an observer standing to her right or left would be able to see generous portions of her lust-inciting bosom, not to mention all of her right leg and most of her hip which the sheet stubbornly refused to cover.
She emerged from the elevator, expecting to be jumped upon immediately by a squad of state troopers, but the police were congregated around the door, watching for a homosexual oriental boy named Mark, not a gorgeous Asian woman wearing an extraordinarily daring sarong. Not feeling quite confident enough to walk by the police just yet, Mandy turned and strolled deliberately into the ballroom where the Sons (and Daughters) of the Pioneers were having their annual bash. If she stayed in the shadows and attracted no attention to herself, perhaps she could get something to eat at the buffet and maybe even pick up a purse with some money in it. Robbery was a terrible thing, but a girl wanted in connection with five murders could not afford to be moralistic . . .
"Hey, beautiful, where have you been all my life?" Mandy looked up into the shining handsome face of Dexter Fenlon-Smith, splendidly masculine-looking in his tuxedo with the self-confidence which comes from having a million dollars invested in tax-free municipal bonds, a Master's degree in business administration from Yale and a family tree which included two signers of the Declaration of Independence. Dexter wrapped one muscular arm around Mandy's supple waist and whirled her out onto the dance floor. Women did not customarily say no to Dexter Fenlon-Smith, and Mandy sensed that it would be wise to go where destiny was leading her. At the orphanage, she and the other girls had spent thousands of hours dancing with one another, preparing themselves to be ready for the moment when the handsome young millionaire of their dreams swept them out onto the dance floor.
Mandy was ready.
"Hey, what's your name, baby? You do speak English, don't you?" inquired Dexter Fenlon-Smith, wondering how this delightfully sensuous creature could conceivably have escaped his notice before. Dexter, by his own private count, had slept with six hundred and forty-seven girls, but all of them looked like tired old hags in comparison with the lush oriental beauty he now held in his arms.
"My name is Mandi," said Mandy, slightly altering the pronunciation of her name to give it a more exotic sound.
"Hey really? And what's your last name?" asked Dexter, now really intrigued.
"Oh, my last name is too hard for Americans to pronounce," the tan-skinned Asian girl laughed condescendingly, having been unable to come up with a suitable last name with so little advance warning. "I am the daughter of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal and you should have seen what the newspapers did to our last name. Of course, English does not have all the letters you need to write Bengali words."
"Golly! Where are you from, Mandi?"
"From Bangladesh," the girl answered simply, noticing that virtually everyone in the ballroom was watching them. For a moment she feared that her sheet had come undone and some important portion of her person was being revealed, but then she realized that it was merely the strangeness of her costume and the fact that she was dancing cheek-to-cheek with San Francisco's most eligible young bachelor. She could not explain to herself what had made her decide to pretend she was from Bangladesh, but now that she was into her act, it struck her as an enormously good idea. Having digested a fifteen page article on the country in Volume Three of the Universal Encyclopedia, she undoubtedly knew more about the Bengali people than anyone in the room. As she and Dexter swept around the floor, she allowed him to draw out of her the information that she was visiting the United States on a fund-raising trip with her father, and had stayed behind in San Francisco while her daddy had gone to Washington to confer with the Secretary of State concerning a billion dollar loan to alleviate starvation in Bangladesh. Dexter pulled her even closer, his slowly hardening cock rubbing against the flatness of her stomach.
"Hey, Mandi," he whispered. "Terrific, I mean really terrific dress you're wearing. Is that how the women dress in Bangladesh."
"Some of the women," the girl replied cautiously. "You see, my father and I -are members of the Marthusi sect, and this is the costume we wear in the presence of non-believers."
"Really, hey, forgive me for saying this, but from where I'm standing, I'd be prepared to swear you didn't have a stitch on underneath it."
"Of course not!" Mandy said primly, trying to work a little indignation into her voice. "We believe that all material possessions, even clothing, take us farther away from the pure heavenly spirit. In our own village, we do not wear clothing, but with non-believers, naturally, it is necessary to wear something, so we wear this. But underwear is the work of the Murtrap, which is Bengali for devil."
"Gee, I couldn't agree more," nodded Dexter enthusiastically. "I've always been against underwear!"
People began cutting in on Dexter Fenlon-Smith, but Mandy had already decided that he could be the bachelor millionaire they had told her about at the orphanage, the one she ought to be looking for, so even when she was dancing with one of Dexter's friends, she kept waving and winking at him. It was fun making up all of these stories about Bangladesh, and Mandy's imagination was so strong that she fell naturally into the role of a Bangladesh princess, inventing one incredible fable after another. It was difficult at the moment to see where all of this was going to lead her, but Dexter and the other Sons of the Pioneers seemed to accept every word as the gospel truth. By two a.m., when the ball was beginning to peter out, she had turned down a score of other invitations, having accepted Dexter's impassioned plea to return to the Fenlon-Smith mansion with him and a few intimate friends for a drink. The police at the door of the Willowy Heights Hotel hardly looked at the group of laughing socialites as they staggered out of the ballroom, through the lobby and into the street where Dexter's chauffeur-driven car awaited them.
Mandy stood for a moment on the street, breathing deeply with relief and offering a silent prayer of thanks for having escaped the police dragnet once again. Then she got into the limousine next to Dexter Fenlon-Smith and his friends, and the chauffeur drove them silently off into the night.
Chapter Five
"Hey you motherstuffers, look at that!" said Murph, leaning comfortably on the handlebars of his freshly stolen Moto-Guzzi 750 and pointing at Dexter Fenlon-Smith's limousine as it rumbled expensively towards the Fenlon-Smith mansion.
"What ya want a car like that fer?" grumbled Butch, one of his two loyal sidekicks, assuming, naturally, that their'leader had larceny in mind. Butch was mounted on a Harley-Davidson which he had liberated a few weeks before from a reputable San Francisco Harley-Davidson dealer. Slinky, the third member of the team, was currently riding his spare bike, a low-status Honda 500, which would only do one hundred and twenty miles an hour, but he was planning to steal something more prestigious as soon as the opportunity presented itself.
"I don't want the fucking car, I want what's inside of it!" Murph explained, turning the key on the headlight which activated the bike's battery, and stepping expertly on the kick-start.
The Moto-Guzzi roared abruptly into life, vibrating as if even its pistons and cables were eager for the chase. Butch and Slinky both followed suit, and the three thugs tore down the road, quickly catching the limousine. After taking another quick look at Mandy to confirm that she was a prize worth having, the three bikers dropped back to avoid alarming the driver of the Fenlon-Smith car, content to follow it to wherever it happened to be going.
"Holy shit!" breathed Slinky in awe as the three of them pulled to a halt and relaxed on their leather covered saddles, viewing the delights of Fen Ion-Smith's elegant country mansion. Leaving their vehicles in the shadows of the woods which surrounded the house, the three bikers made their way silently across the lawn, drawn by the bright lights around the swimming pool like moths to a candle.
"Man, those cats is rich!" grumbled Butch, an anger rising within him as he wondered precisely what the owner of this fabulous estate had done to earn all this voluptuous luxury, when he and his companions were destined to spend their lives riding stolen bikes down dusty roads in search of dubious delights. It all seemed wrong somehow, unjust and unfair.
"That's right, shit head; they're plenty rich and we're plenty poor!" agreed Slinky. "I don' know who they are, but I think we ought to waltz over there and make their acquaintance. Particularly that slant-eyed chick! Man! I really wanna get t'know her!"
"Fucking foreigner!" shot Butch nationalistically. "Riding around in a big black limousine when we honest loyal Americans ain't got a dime. Fucking all them rich bastards, when we ain't had a piece of ass since . . . since . . . when was it Slinky?"
"Three o'clock this afternoon," commented the man with the low-status Honda dispassionately. "But, basically, I agree with you. Let's go get her!"
"Wait a minute," warned Murph cautiously, motioning the others to follow him. "They're coming out to the swimming pool. Lets jes' see what develops here."
The three bikers converged on the swimming pool, maintaining a low profile so as not to be spotted until the proper moment arrived to reveal their presence.
"Welcome! Welcome!" Dexter Fenlon-Smith was announcing grandly to the two other couples he had invited back for this intimate soiree, while busily mixing drinks at a sleekly elegant bar set up by the side of the pool's shimmering waters. "Here we have drinks for the thirsty, peanuts and pecans for the hungry and hand-rolled cigarettes with a certain Mexican tobacco of dubious legality for those wishing to alter their consciousness!"
"What the fuck's he talkin' about?" muttered Butch irritably as the three bikers watched Mandy and the other guests cluster around the table.
"Come on, what're we waitin' for?" urged Slinky impatiently. "I wanna see what that slant-eyed bitch looks like without her sheet."
"Pipe down, you guys. Let's check this scene out before we mess it all up."
Obediently, the group fell silent, their eyes trained lustfully on Mandy's partially revealed body as the young woman chatted happily with Dexter's friends, sure that everything was somehow going to work out for the best. Mandy was wise enough by now in the ways of the world to realize that Dexter Fenlon-Smith had brought her back here tonight for the express purpose of getting her into bed after he had filled her up with enough liquor to render her suitably pliable. But she also knew that it was not good strategy to let him get away with it. The older girls at the orphanage had been very specific on this point. When the handsome young millionaire swept into your life, you had to play it smart, tantalizing him with your beauty but never going all the way until he popped the question. Naturally, Mandy had no way of knowing that Dexter had already met six hundred and forty-seven other young hopefuls with the same idea of whom he had solemnly promised to marry three hundred and eighty-two just before getting their panties off.
And she's not wearing any panties, he meditated lasciviously, which is going to make it that much easier. Well, I'd better get rolling! Mater and Pater will be getting home from the Bahamas tomorrow early and I don't want the old man to catch me, rolling in the hay again. I don't know what ever gave him the idea I had to share every piece of ass I got with him!
Suddenly a lewd but clever idea popped into Dexter's mind. He allowed a horrified expression to cross his face and then held up his arms for silence. His friends all listened attentively, as did Murph, Butch and Slinky who were hiding in the bushes.
"We have been horribly, unforgivably rude!" he announced theatrically, watching the faces of his friends grow serious as they wondered what they could possibly have done to give offense to their lovely foreign guest. Dexter explained:
"In Bangladesh the members of the Narthusi Sect believe that all clothing is the work of - who did you say it was, Mandi?"
"Uh . . . Murtrap," responded the girl nervously, not quite sure where Dexter was leading them.
"Right, Murtrap, or the Devil for those of you who are weak in Oriental Religion. In fact Mandi, who is the daughter of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal - you've all heard of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal?"
"Well, of course, Dexter!" replied one of the girls acidly as she lit up one of Fenlon-Smith's custom-made marijuana cigarettes. "You don't have to insult our intelligence! Everybody's heard of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal!"
"He was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize two years ago," added another friend, confusing Mandy completely, since she had invented the Mahatma out of thin air only a few hours ago.
"Good, well in Mandi's village, people who are friends do not wear clothing in one another's presence - isn't that right, Mandi? - and therefore we are all doing the work of Murtrap by standing around in these disgusting garments. Let us cleanse ourselves in the pure chlorinated waters of my swimming pool!"
"But Dexter!" protested one of the girls in dismay as Fenlon-Smith began stripping off his clothing rapidly.
"Undress!" he ordered her sternly. "Are you trying to create an international incident? Suppose it gets back to the U. N. Security Council that we entertained the daughter of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal with our clothes on!"
"Shit, they're all gettin' naked!" marveled Butch in amazement, as he watched the six young people climb self-consciously out of their clothes. For Mandy is was easier, since she had been wearing less than the others to start with, but she slipped out of her satin sheet reluctantly. It was not that she minded being naked particularly, since she had spent a lot of time undressed over the past week and was rapidly getting used to it. But every time she was forced to remove her garments, someone inevitably jumped out of the nearest bush and raped her, and this might grow tiring with time. But she could not risk offending these kind people, who were doing so much to avoid offending her, and as a matter of fact, she herself had made up that silly story about going naked . ..
Then, as she half-expected, someone jumped out of the nearest bush, three men in fact, and a collective shudder of fear ran through Mandy and her five socialite friends as they watched Murph, Butch and Slinky walk menacingly towards them out of the darkness. Suddenly aware that they were in danger, Dexter felt somewhat ridiculous without his pants and hastily reached for the pile of clothing he had so recently rejected.
"Stay where you are, brother, or I'll cut yer balls off," Murph warned him, the moonlight reflecting evilly off the blade he held in his hand. Dexter retracted his hand abruptly as if he had been burned.
"What . . . what do you want?" he stammered, suddenly losing some of his Yale School of Business Administration self-confidence as he stood nakedly facing three thugs with knives.
"Listen, shithead, we want the chink broad," snapped Murphy, deciding it was time to make his move. Murph always called people "shithead" if he did not know their names, but had he known that the man he was addressing was called Dexter Fenlon-Smith, he would have called him "shithead" anyway since he had a constitutional hatred for people with hyphens in their names.
"I really must protest," whimpered Dexter, not very courageously. "What do you want her for?"
"We're gonna fuck'er," Slinky informed him. "Call the cops and we cut her throat afterwards."
"Oh," said Dexter Fenlon-Smith quietly, as the three motorcyclists began to drag Mandy into the house. The Yale man was not naturally terribly brave but having two signers of the Declaration of Independence in one's family tree imposed an obligation of sorts upon a person. This young foreign woman was his guest. He had to do something!
Dexter moved faster than anyone really expected him to, knowing that the switchblade in Murphy's hand could carve some unpleasant designs on his skin. Having practiced his karate regularly at the San Francisco Yale Alumni Athletic Association, the young socialite launched his muscular body into the air, one fast foot lashing out and catching Murph on the side of the head. The biker went down with a groan, caught completely off-guard, and the vicious-looking knife he had been holding spun across the tiled terrace and into the deep end of the swimming pool.
This trio had been in a lot of fights in their time, and they reacted quickly. To prevent her from running away, Butch shoved Mandy roughly into the swimming pool but he spun around just in time to catch a karate chop on the side of his neck which knocked him abruptly to the floor. Slinky, the smallest of the three, realized that they were in the presence of a man who knew something about fighting and took his time about moving in for the kill. Dexter was over-confident after knocking two men down so quickly, and he got careless as he went in for the third. Slinky had only finished sixth grade before being expelled, for petty larceny, but the man was an expert street fighter. He side-stepped adroitly as Dexter thrust a murderous open hand towards his throat and kicked the handsome young Yale graduate smartly in the groin. Fenlon-Smith's stomach muscles were tough and he did not double over, but the blow slowed him down, and he back-peddled, stalling for time as Slinky pursued him.
Then Butch rolled over quickly, having recovered in record time, and caught Dexter by the leg. Slinky attacked as Murph climbed unsteadily to his feet, and the three tough bikers closed in on him together. This time there were no mistakes.
"No . . .no, please, don't hurt him!" Mandy screamed as she pulled her nakedly glistening body out of the pool, but the three bikers ignored her for the moment and concentrated on punishing Dexter for having had the nerve to attack them. Murph used his favorite weapon, his motorcycle boots crashing viciously into Dexter's ribs. Butch used his fists, slamming his knuckles murderously into the young man's handsome face.
"Hey, wait a' minute," chuckled Slinky, producing a switchblade from his back pocket and dropping down on his knees next to Dexter while the two other thugs pinned him to the tile pavement. "I think we ought to give 'im somethin' to remember us by."
"Don't waste 'im," warned Murph quickly, seeing the evil blade in his cohort's hand. "A homicide rap we don' need."
"I ain't gonna kill 'em, man. I jes' wanna do a little carving!"
Mandy froze by the side of the pool, her heart beating wildly as she watched Slinky poised with the deadly knife over Dexter's muscular chest. One glance at the young millionaire's friends told her they were not going to come to the rescue. The two couples were huddled in obvious terror next to the table where drinks had been served. Dexter was dazed, but conscious, and his body was spread-eagled nakedly on the damp tile as he looked up at his torturers.
"My name is Slinky," the sadistic biker told him, grinning horribly through a pair of missing front teeth. "And just to make sure you don't forget it, Mr., I'm gonna put my initial on yer chest so you can look at it in the mirror."
"No ..." the young man grunted, but he knew better than to beg for mercy. As delicately as a surgeon, Slinky lowered the blade to a point between the millionaire's vestigal nipples. Razor-sharp, the steel sank in, a quarter-inch below the surface of the skin.
"Aaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhh!"
Mandy could hear the flesh tearing and severing as the biker maneuvered the blade in two sweeping arcs, and then pulled back to admire his handiwork. The letter was bloody and lopsided, but there was an "S" on Dexter's chest, a mark he would carry to the end of his days. There was a gasp of horror from the other four guests, but Mandy found herself advancing nakedly towards Dexter's blood-smeared body, her mind working like a computer as she tried desperately to find some way to save him.
"Hey, shithead," Murph mocked him cruelly. "What does that "S" stand for? You forget already?"
"It stands for 'Smith'," Dexter reported courageously, his voice hoarse with pain. "My last name."
"You uppity son-of-a-bitch. Better do a little more cuttin', Slinky. He ain't learned his manners yet."
"What do you say we cut his balls off?" suggested Butch lightly, glancing down at Dexter's genital equipment. A light layer of sweat broke out on the young man's forehead as he realized that Slinky was quite capable of an atrocity like this. His chest hurt as if there were flames dancing on it, but he forgot his pain as the shining tempered steel blade roamed horribly close to his groin.
"I thought you wanted me," came a clear calm woman's voice, and the three torturers looked up from their work in amazement. Who had spoken? The voluptuous and still quite naked oriental woman was standing over them, her hands on her hips, an impatient expression on her face. Mandy was acting, playing the role of a lifetime, and she hated herself for what she was doing, but she had to find some way of distracting the three criminals. Dexter's life was at stake, or at least his future sex-life, and if Slinky sliced off his testicles, the probability of their marriage became extremely remote.
"You're goddamn right we want you!" snapped Murph, looking up in amazement at this incredible young woman.
"Then why are you bothering with him?" she demanded, stamping her foot petulantly, a gesture which caused the heavy sensuous globes of her breasts to jiggle seductively. "I am not accustomed to being kept waiting!"
Dumbfounded, the trio got to their feet, never having met a woman before who objected to a delay in the process of being raped.
"She's the daughter of the Mahatma of Upper Bangal," observed one of Dexter's friends who was now hiding under the liquor table. "Better not touch her or we'll find ourselves at war with Bangladesh!"
Murph squared his shoulders defiantly, deciding that this was the most mismanaged rape in history and that he needed to re-establish his personal control over the situation immediately.
"All right, Butch, Slinky, lock those birds in the bathhouse and make sure they can't get out! We're taking this chick into the house where we can be comfortable, and if that Bangladoosh bunch wants to start trouble over it, then we'll be ready for 'em. And after we've got our rocks off, we're gonna come back and cut your balls off, Mister!"
Knives flashed and Dexter's friends scuttled nervously into the bathhouse which was by the side of the pool, while the young millionaire groaned with the atrocious pain in his chest, heaved himself unsteadily to his feet and followed. While Slinky stood guard over Mandy, Butch and Murphy slammed the doors shut on the five unhappy socialites and locked them in from the outside. The girl felt the point of the knife prick the tender skin of one of her buttocks.
"The house is thataway, baby," growled Slinky menacingly. "Git!"
The girl walked obediently in the direction of the Fenlon-Smith mansion, realizing that she was going to have to do the acting job of her life if she was to save them all, particularly her life and Dexter's balls.
"OM!" she said in a low chanting voice as the four of them stepped through French windows into a large spacious bedroom. "OM! OM! Hare Krishna!"
"Who's OM?" asked Murph suspiciously, grabbing her by the arm and flinging her lust-provoking body down on the soft mattress.
"Oh? It has nothing to do with you," Mandy informed them loftily, letting her body go completely slack. "Go ahead and do whatever it is that you wanted to do. I was merely putting myself in the hands of Hare Krishna and asking forgiveness for us all and mercy on our souls."
There was a zipping noise as Murph undid his fly, and Mandy realized that her performance was having very little effect.
"Who's this Harry Krishna?" Butch wanted to know as he folded his leather pants and hung them over the back of a chair.
"He is the god of healing," responded Mandy simply, watching the three men quickly rid themselves of their clothing.
"You sick or something?" Butch looked a trifle worried.
"Yes, you see in Bangladesh we have many strange diseases which are unknown in the West. I have come to your country ..."
"Listen, did we come in here for fucking or talking?" Murph shouted in irritation, seeing that this strangely attractive oriental woman was on the verge of mesmerizing his men. "She ain't sick, and I ain't waitin'!"
"Right on baby, let's all do it together!" volunteered Slinky, who crawled over the massive double bed, catching her from behind and pinning her shoulders to the mattress. His long cock waved obscenely in her face as he kneeled triumphantly over her, and Mandy suddenly realized the significance of what he had just proposed. Do it all together? How . . . what could that possibly mean?
"Okay, but first lemme get'er wanned up. That's real fine eating pussy I see before me, and I guess I'll have me a lick or two." Murph volunteered.
Without further warning, the biker's muscular body was between her obscenely outstretched legs, and the man's swarthy face was invading the privacy of her groin. His fingers actively drew apart the interfolded pink lips of her pussy, but the girl did her best to lie perfectly still, occasionally chanting "Hare Krishna" whenever she needed to disguise a groan or a pant which was escaping her lips. The other two men watched sadistically as their leader unfolded the girl's body, his fingers surprisingly delicate.
His lips inched closer, and Mandy sighed in despair as she felt the sensitive caress of his hot breath sending zephyrs of forbidden pleasure into her naked loins. She had no hope of being able to resist this lewd attack, if past experience was any guide. It seemed that everytime a man touched her, she caught fire, and there was no reason to expect things to be any different this time, either. The best she could hope for was concealing her true condition from these sadistic rapists. She must not give them the pleasure of knowing what they were doing to her!
Murph's head dropped and without warning his long hot tongue snaked hungrily into the moistly throbbing passage of her cunt. Instantly, Mandy felt the tiny wisps of illicity sex-joy curling deep in her belly. Murph attacked again and again, relentlessly, his tongue pushing its way farther and farther into her rapidly warming vagina as the girl's sleek buttocks wiggled convulsively. Butch and Slinky found it hard to decide whether she was still desperately trying to escape the furious tongue lashing she was getting, or whether her resistance had already come to an end and she was beginning to enjoy the bizarre, lewd thing being done to her. The truth of the matter was that Mandy was not too sure herself.
"Hare Krishna!" she gasped, still trying to keep up the pretense of being oriental and mysterious, but as Murph savagely ravaged her loins, the flames leaped higher and higher. With a poorly concealed sob she admitted to herself that the game was up. The roller coaster of her overstimulated senses had started to roll, and she was going with it for the longest, wildest ride of her life! In a few short moments, she had forgotten about Dexter, and the bloody "S" cruelly hacked into his chest, locked with his naked shivering friends in the bathhouse. Gone were her fears and hopes for the future, overwhelmed by the deeply gnawing hunger buried deep in the pit of her belly, and the emptiness which cried out to be filled at any cost!
Cock was what she needed, and she knew in a brief awful moment of self-awareness that she needed it badly. But she could not give up the role she had been playing, an aristocratic lady from the mysterious East.
"That will do!" she said sharply, like a school teacher correcting a group of unruly children. "You may now proceed to the .. . the next stage. Hare Krishna has answered my prayers. The spirit of Rothmum is upon us."
"What the hell is she talking about?" muttered Slinky in amazement.
"I think she wants us to fuck'er." guessed Butch accurately. "And if she and this Harry Krishna fella are both ready, I reckon we are, too!"
There was a moment's confusion while the three thugs sorted out who would go where and do what. It was clear that taking her one at a time was out of the question. All three men were now far too excited to wait. Mandy realized dimly that she was about to be buffetted amongst the three men like a rag doll, all the orifices of her tender young body being used as lewd receptacles for their fiery sperm, but she knew in the same horrifying moment that there was nothing she could do to stop them. It was their ball game and they could invent their own rules!
Butch threw himself on the bed behind her as Murph rolled her over onto her side, and she felt the man's hands probing lecherously between the smooth firm half-moons of her buttocks. Her ankles were being pulled violently apart, and she groaned with pain as the two men, each working from opposite sides of her nakedly tormented young body, stretched open her thighs in order to bare her loins for the carnal indignities they intended to inflict upon her.
Murph entered her first, pounding his way into her churning vagina and finding to his surprise and delight that she was totally ready for him. The soft moist internal flesh of her little-used cunt gripped him with astonishing force, and the tough ruthless biker found himself obliged to groan aloud with pleasure. Mandy was too far lost in a merciless mental jungle of shame and excitement now to object to anything these brutes tried to do to her, but she groaned in discomfort as she felt Butch's stubby fingers invading the furrow between her buttocks, poking persistently at the tiny pink circle of her anus.
With a shock she realized that it had only been a matter of hours since the late lamented Edgar Marvel had taken her there, and her rectum was still soft and yielding. Mandy did not know the meaning of the word "analerotic", but her experience with the hotel manager, unpleasant as it was, had taught her that the use of the rear passage was not necessarily all that terrible. She took a deep breath as she felt Butch's long thin , cock sliding obscenely between her buttocks, knowing that it would be uncomfortable at first, but also knowing from experience that she could take it.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh! Hareeeeeeeeee Krishnaaaaaaaaaa!" came the girl's groan as the pointy tip of Butch's superhardened instrument fought its way into the narrow opening. Butch was decidedly bigger in the penis department than Mr. Marvel had been, and the entry was consequently more difficult. But Butch was a determined young man with a decided preference for rear entries, and he ground his way into her, jerking his hips forward ruthlessly and grunting with obscene joy as he felt his iron-hard cock slowly disappearing into the flaccid unresisting flesh of her badly stretched little rectum.
"Shit, I got it all the way in, guys," he boasted proudly, and promptly began rocking slowly back and forth in order to widen the tortured back passage to his satisfaction. For a few minutes, Butch and Murph slammed their respective cocks into her in a haphazard, uncoordinated manner, grunting and laughing as the poor battered girl bounced back and forth between their two muscular bodies, the breath knocked out of her lungs by the rampant force of this bizarre rape. To make matters worse, Slinky was dancing wildly up and down on the bed, his gigantic pulsating cock in his hands, practically delirious with vicious joy as he watched the sloe-eyed foreign woman being fucked half-to-death before his eyes.
"Hey, we gotta get organized," grunted Murph as the mattress bucked and heaved beneath him as a result of Slinky's enthusiasm. "Listen, you try pushing while I pull and then vice-versa, and we'll see how that works. Goddamn, this chick's got a cunt like melted butter! Okay, are you ready? You pull when I say go!"
Murph pushed and Butch pulled, more or less simultaneously and Mandy's body seemed to fill with charges of alternating current as one achingly hard cock plunged into the yielding submissive depths of her body and then abruptly withdrew as another took its place.
"No, both together!" cried Murphy, changing his mind, and the two men quickly altered their rhythm, timing their strokes so that the two of them plunged home simultaneously.
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh," groaned Mandy, now half out of her mind with the bizarre degrading treatment she was getting from the two men. The girl forgot about chanting Hare Krishna as a long low crooning sound escaped from her lips, interrupted by periodic grunts as the two men skewered furiously in and out of her. Tentatively, her hips began to rotate in tiny circles as the lust in her overheated loins began to spread over her voluptuous young body. Suddenly Slinky was kneeling by her head, arranging his body so that her face stared up at his long pulsating rod which was suspended over her open lips like the prow of a ship.
"Now, we're gonna suck a little cock, aren't we, China-girl." he taunted her cruelly, taking his bludgeoning instrument in his hand and rubbing it humiliatingly around the corners of her mouth. He expected that this, at least, would cause her to rebel, but Mandy was ready for anything by this point, and just as Slinky was preparing to force his way into her throat, the girl's lips simply opened and she welcomed him in like a guest.
She was filled. She was doing everything a woman could do for a man, and she was doing it all at once for three men! Inside of her cruelly stretched mouth, a man's cock pulsated and quivered with violent lust, and her loins too were full and satisfied. Mandy's first orgasm swept over her almost without warning, and she found herself a little amazed at how easy it was to cum. Every time a man looks at me, it happens, she thought vaguely as her over-stimulated body seemed to rise up off the bed with rapturous physical delight.
Then Butch began to grunt behind her, flinging out a stream of obscenities as his cock suddenly sitffened, nearly doubling in size as the semen sprayed from his swollen testicles into the warmly receptive upper reaches of her anus. And when he came, she came with him, sucking Slinky's cock so far down her throat in her ecstasy that the biker feared he was being eaten alive.
Murph had been at it the longest, and he was next, closing his eyes and shoving with all his might as the spasm took possession of his body. Mandy had just floated back to earth, but she was ready for take-off almost immediately, and she went with him, his rigidly quivering penis crushed hard against the softness of her clitoris. The cum seemed to go on forever this time, for both of them, as Murph pumped the hot sticky sperm violently up into her hungrily clasping little cunt.
And then at last it was Slinky's turn. His burning cock now halfway down her throat, he wanted to prolong the pleasure, make it last a little longer, but the sight of all this ecstasy was too much for him. He had expected no cooperation whatsoever from this girl as he vilely fucked into her mouth, but instead, she was giving him everything she had, caressing him expertly with her lips and stimulating him beyond belief.
He came, very hard, sperm spraying recklessly into the back of her throat as he thrust his hands fiercely into her hair lest she try to escape her fate at the last moment. But Mandy was through running. She gulped, ravenously, drinking him as if his cum was the nectar of the gods, nibbling and sucking on his slowly deflating tool like a mother cat cleaning her kittens.
Then she came again, just for good measure.
When some semblance of sanity returned, the three bikers were buckling their belts and climbing back into their boots. All three of them were still in a mild state of shock, and kept glancing back at the bed where the girl lay, bathed in sweat and cum, too tired even to bother closing her legs.
"Shit, I never saw a gal cum like that in all my life," breathed Murph, still unable to figure it out. "First time I ever raped anybody who had more fun than I did."
"Yeah, it was fun, but I still got a score to settle with that rich son-of-a-bitch who kicked me in the head," muttered Butch, who tended to be in a bad mood after sex. "Think I'll meander on out and do some more carving."
Mandy shook her head, realizing that her little act had not quite worked. They still intended to harm Dexter, despite her sacrifice! But she had one more card to play. Sitting up slowly so as not to alarm them, she assumed the lotus position, crossing her legs in front of her cum-soaked pussy and placing her hands on her knees, the way she had learned from Volume Three of the Universal Encyclopedia. She bowed to the three men profoundly, composing her face as if for prayer.
"Oh my Masters, thank you for bringing happiness, the joy of Narthusi into my last days before I become one with Rothmum, the pure heavenly spirit." she intoned quietly. Murph turned around to look at her, scratching his head in perplexity.
"You mean like you're really sick or something?"
"Yes, your famous doctor here was able to diagnose, but not to cure. My case was far too advanced. Soon, I shall be in the arms of the Pure Heavenly Spirit."
"Uh .. . excuse me, but this sickness of yours ain't catching, is it?" muttered Slinky suspiciously as he felt his brow for signs of a fever.
"Horribly," Mandy told them maliciously. "In effect, it attacks the genital organs, first, of course, since that's how the disease is spread. At least half the people in Bangladesh have it."
"Oh, Christ, isn't there a cure?" groaned Butch, desperately clutching the portion of his person he feared might be infected. Fear spread around the room like a contagious infection. There was no reason for the girl to lie now, they reasoned ...
"The only thing which will kill the infection in its early stages is total immersion in the excrement of horses," she informed them seriously. "You must spend at least twenty-four hours in it, chanting Hare Krishna and meditating on the Pure Heavenly Spirit! Then you will probably escape the disease. At least that is what we do in Bangladesh."
"Oh horseshit!" sputtered Slinky.
"Ah yes, I always forget the word in English," Mandy nodded. "Horseshit, and preferably warm."
"Come on, let's go!" Murph ordered, his face suddenly pale with fear.
"Where wegoin"
"The race track, stupid! Where else are we gonna find a ton of horseshit this time of night!"
Chapter Six
Mandy opened her eyes, looked at the ceiling and then closed them again quickly, deciding it was all too good to be true. As usual, she was stark naked, but she seemed to be lying in an opulently luxurious bed in a bedroom which would have suited Louis the Fourteenth. The sun was already high in the sky, sending long yellow shafts of warm comforting light across the inlaid wooden floor, and as she slowly drifted into consciousness, the horrid events of the previous evening rumbled back into her mind. Certain that they were in desperate danger of contacting Mandy's weird oriental disease, Murph and his two sidekicks had roared off into the midnight mist in search of sizeable quantities of warm horse manure. Mandy had returned back to the bathhouse, releasing Dexter and his four friends. Dexter had been rushed to a hospital for plastic surgery on his damaged chest while the others had jumped into their clothing and departed, anxious to .get away from the scene of the horror. Feeling exhausted and drained emotionally, Mandy had wandered into the nearest unoccupied bedroom and fallen asleep.
"Are you awake, my dear Princess?" came an aristocratic woman's voice from the door, and Mandy opened her eyes to see an attractive fifty year old woman entering with a tray in her hands. The sight of steaming black coffee, eggs and toast reminded her of precisely how hungry she was, and the girl sat up with alacrity, but suddenly recalled that her sheet had been missing in action during the confusion the night before. This woman was undoubtedly Dexter's mother. It was essential that she make a good impression. What woman wants a daughter-in-law who habitually runs around stark naked, being raped by perfect strangers?
"Uh. . . yes. Ma'am," the sloe-eyed girl managed to mutter unhappily, noticing that breakfast had been prepared for two, and that Mrs. Fenlon-Smith was setting the tray on a nearby table with two chairs.
"Well then, come and eat, my dear," invited Mrs. Fenlon-Smith graciously. "You must be starved after all your adventures and I'm so anxious to hear about your magical powers."
Could she eat breakfast without a stitch of clothing on?
Mandy did some particularly fast thinking, remembering, or at least trying to remember all the fantastic stories she had told the night before. She had to continue playing the role! Composing her face to give the impression of great seriousness, the oriental girl drew back the covers and stepped nakedly from the bed.
"Before breaking my fast, I must pray to Rothmun for Dexter's health and recovery," she announced grandly, walking to the column of sunlight and sitting down in the lotus position. The coldness of the marble sent a shock into her bare buttocks, but it was too late to choose a more comfortable position.
"Oh ... I suppose I should pray with you, but I don't think I can get my old legs crossed like that," murmured Mrs. Fenlon-Smith coming over for a better look. "The doctor says that Dexter will be out of the hospital in a few days, and we're eternally grateful to you for saving his life. He told me they were going to, uh . . . cut off a portion of his body, and you got those three hoodlums to go quietly." Mandy, in fact, had not been terribly honest about what had passed between herself and Murph's gang, having decided that Dexter would not like to hear that she had been fucked into happy oblivion by the three men. Instead, she had explained that she had convinced them to offer prayers to Rothmun and then disappear of their own accord. Mrs. Fenlon-Smith had apparently decided that this constituted magic and Mandy decided in turn that it was best not to contradict her. The grey-haired lady was inspecting her carefully now, and Mandy closed her eyes attempting to give the impression that she was on the verge of achieving Nirvana.
"I don't mean to interrupt your prayers, my dear," said Mrs. Fenlon-Smith impulsively, moving her chair around in front of Mandy. "But oriental religions just fascinate me. I've heard that you people have perfect muscle control and can do all sorts of fascinating things like stopping your hearts. Is that really true?"
"Well . . . stopping your heart is considered bad for your health," replied Mandy slowly, desperately trying to remember what Volume Three of her Universal Encyclopedia had said specifically on this subject. "It takes practice, of course, but we have learned how to control certain things . . . well normally we don't discuss these things with outsiders, but members of the Narthusi religion can achieve a state of transsexual meditative bliss, just by concentrating."
"Transsexual . . . what does that mean, exactly?" inquired Mrs. Fenlon-Smith, becoming very interested indeed and drawing her chair up closer. Mandy was now sorry she had started this whole line of conversation since she distinctly did not want her future mother-in-law thinking she was some kind of sex-freak. But from all she had read about the Narthusi in the encyclopedia, this was the only thing she could remember.
"Transsexual meditative bliss means having an orgasm without touching anybody else," Mandy explained, casually, as if this kind of thing were old hat to her. "You concentrate on achieving a perfect union with . . . well, I'm sure this must be boring you."
"No, no, not at all!" exclaimed the wealthy society woman, her cheeks now slightly flushed with excitement. "This might be just the answer for my daughter. You mean you could just sit there and cum if you wanted to?"
"Sure," said the lithe young oriental beauty simply, feeling the tiny little brown nuggets of her nipples harden slightly as she began thinking about this whole business of spontaneous orgasms. "You just close your eyes, like this, with your hands on your knees, like this, and then meditate in a certain way, like ..."
A strange thing happened, as Mandy talked away, becoming involved in her little act, and half-convinced that it was true, a familiar sensation began to spread through her naked loins, and it was all she could do to refrain from touching the burning pink lips of her cunt. After all, a properly-raised young girl did not squat nakedly on the floor diddling herself in front of her perspective mother-in-law! But the fire blazed higher, the heat spread, and suddenly it cut her off in mid-sentence, almost doubling her slender body over with its unexpectedly savage fury.
"... this . . . oh . . . Hare Krishnaaahhhhh," she babbled as a magnificent spontaneous cum ripped powerfully through her system. The experience took the girl by surprise, and for a moment she could hardly believe that it was really happening to her. But that business about transsexual meditation was just some nonsense she had read in an encyclopedia! And she wasn't really from Bangladesh!
But did it really matter? she asked herself as the spasm slowly passed, leaving her body feeling happy and relaxed. She could do it, and Mrs. Fenlon-Smith was convinced, since the greatest actress in Hollywood could not have faked a cum quite that authentically.
"Good heavens, this is incredible!" said the grey-haired lady, standing up in a state of great agitation, "Mandi, I must ask you if this art, this skill, this magnificent talent of yours can be taught?"
"Well .. . I'm not sure ... I could try," she muttered dubiously, realizing that she was getting into this over her head, but not sure how she could conceivably back out now.
"You must understand ..." Mrs. Fenlon-Smith stammered nervously. "I can give you money ... as much money as you like ... if you could only help my daughter. It would mean so much to us. I could write you a check this very moment!"
Mandy was thinking fast, and when she saw
Mrs. Fenlon-Smith pull a checkbook in a green alligator folder out of her purse, she started thinking doubly fast. What she needed more than anything else in the world was money! It was the solution to all of her problems. Right now as she sat cross-legged on the floor of the Fenlon-Smith mansion, she had nothing; not even clothing to cover her nakedness. She had no idea what was wrong with Mrs. Fenlon-Smith's daughter, but if there was money involved . . .
"I could not possibly accept money for myself since Narthusi teaches us that money, particularly a check, is the work of Murtrap. But if you wish to make an offering to my country to help the starving children of Upper Bengal, I would be happy to do what I can for your daughter. What exactly is her problem?"
"We've tried everything!" Mrs. Fenlon-Smith was openly sobbing now. "Psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, even Dr. Masters and . . . what's her name . . . ? Nothing works! She simply has no interest whatsoever in men, in fact she won't even let one near her. But if you could teach her your spontaneous transsexual meditation, and she got to understand how beautiful sex could be ... "
"Tell your daughter to bathe, dress in long flowing robes, and come to me," Mandy ordered, knowing that the next hour would either make her fortune or break her. "You can make that check out to me and I'll see that it gets to the starving children of Upper Bengal."
"Oh thank you Mandi," gushed the wealthy woman, scribbling in her checkbook and then rushing from the room to find her frigid daughter.
The girl looked doubtful as she came into the bedroom, and Mandy drew her breath in sharply as she studied the beautiful young woman standing nervously before her. Charmaine Fenlon-Smith was the prototype American beauty; where Mandy was short and full-bodied, Charmaine was tall, supple and slender, with high taut breasts which hardly moved as she walked. Mandy was a creature of darkness; her hair and skin and eyes were all dark, smoldering, and sensual. Charmaine was a child of light and her long blonde hair caught the sun as she walked deliberately over to where Mandy sat cross-legged before the window.
"My mother said I was to see you," the girl said simply, sitting down and looking at the oriental girl seriously. "She said you were going to show me how to have spontaneous orgasms or something."
For a moment, the two girls parried, feeling each other out like two cats meeting in an alley, deciding whether they would be friends or enemies. Mandy was tempted to play it very serious and holy, but this girl seemed too warm and natural for her high priestess act. Impulsively, she grinned and Charmaine grinned back, eager to be friends.
"I don't know if I can teach you or not," the oriental girl confessed. "In Bangladash we learn these things from childhood, and it never occurred to me that a Western adult could get the hang of it."
"You can cum, is that the idea?" Charmaine Fenlon-Smith asked, her blue eyes gleaming with anticipation, "Anytime you want to, just by thinking about it and without having to have a man around?"
"Yeah, that's the theory," Mandy admitted. "Don't you like men?"
"Not very much," the girl shrugged, wrinkling her nose as she spoke, which sometimes gave people the idea that this beautiful young heiress might actually be a lesbian without realizing it. Wouldn't it be wonderful if she really could teach people to have spontaneous orgasms! She had been able to do it herself, and she knew she had no special magic powers. Of course, the events of the past few days had taught her that she was a super-sexy young woman with vast reservoirs of unexpected lust and sensuality within her, but. . . perhaps other people could learn as well!
"Okay, first thing, you take your clothes off and get into the lotus position," Mandy ordered briskly. "We have to get you in the right frame of mind."
Without a word of objection, Charmaine gathered up the hem of her dressing gown and pulled it quickly over her head, revealing that she had been wearing nothing underneath. It was a shock to be exposed so suddenly to this much nakedness, and Mandy was uncomfortably aware how fast her heart was beating as Charmaine suddenly sat down in front of her trying to force her long legs into the lotus position. Feeling the warmth from the young blonde's sleek athletic body, Mandy unwrapped her own legs and knelt in front of Charmaine, suddenly conscious of her own total nakedness.
"Here, let me help you," she volunteered, taking Charmaine's ankle in her hands and trying to inch her bare feet into the angle formed by the girl's slender firm thigh, and the softness of her groin, the placement demanded by the lotus position. Charmaine's muscles were tight and her legs were too long, but she tried her best, the slowly hardening nipple of her left breast rubbing unconsciously against Mandy's arm as she tried to help her first student. As she slowly forced the girl's bare foot into place, Mandy's hand brushed accidentally against the "V" of Charmaine's virginal pussy. The young blonde shivered with obvious pleasure at this inadvertent caress, and then toppled over on her side.
"I just can't hold that position," she confessed apologetically, propping herself up on one elbow. "Maybe if I stretched out on my back, the way you do with a psychiatrist?"
Mandy nodded, and the girl relaxed on the floor, all the magnificently sensual hills and valleys of her splendid young body offered up as if in sacrifice. Casually, Mandy allowed her hand to rest lightly on one of Charmaine's full firm thighs, suddenly remembering the sessions she had had with the wife of the dentist back at the Willowy Heights Hotel. Perhaps there was something about a woman's touch . . .
"You must try to relax completely," she instructed the heiress softly, making up the instructions as she went along, since the encyclopedia had not explained precisely how the members of the Narthusi sect went about achieving their spontaneous orgasms. "You have to try to concentrate all the psychic sensual forces in your body . . . uh . . .down here . . . where the orgasm is going to happen ..."
"Where?" asked the girl, her voice throaty and deep with growing desire.
"Well, here," Mandy explained, suddenly understanding that the girl needed to be touched. The power was there, she understood, but Charmaine was too timid and too confused for the orgasm to happen spontaneously. For the first few times, she was going to need help. Gently, Mandy placed her hand softly on the flat smooth plane of the girl's stomach, and Charmaine sighed with illicit pleasure.
"Oh . .. that feels good," breathed the heiress happily, her naked hips twitching restlessly as Mandy began to work her hand around in ever-expanding circles. "I almost feel that I could . . . cum ... I mean, it's never happened to me before, but... is it perfectly horrible to let a woman stroke you?"
"I'm not sure," the oriental girl confessed, her face hot with shame as she allowed her fingers to steal lewdly into the light blonde patch of pubic hair which masked the entrance to the sweet mysteries of Charmaine's body. "I guess it's okay if it feels good."
The answer appeared unsatisfactory to Mandy, but Charmaine seemed contented, and Mandy saw that the taut little brown nipples on her breast were standing up hard and firm, as if they were on the verge of exploding. The sight of those two tiny nuggets of lust sent a lascivious thrill of excitement through Mandy's body. Without thinking of the pros and cons of the situation, she quickly bent over, planting a moist, noisy kiss on the tempting tip of Charmaine's right breast.
That did it!
With a groan of poorly concealed lust, the blonde Californian rolled over on her side trapping Mandy's hand in the rapidly moistening crevice between her legs, her own hands reaching out in an agony of long-repressed desire, dragging the oriental girl down on the floor beside her.
There's going to be nothing spontaneous about this orgasm, thought Mandy regretfully, as she felt the girl's agilely prying tongue invading her open mouth. But a cum's a cum, I suppose, and if she never had one before, I suppose I ought to do my best .. . sure hope I don't turn into a lesbian!
"Oh . . . Mandi," the girl gasped in growing ecstasy, and the oriental girl felt her full sumptuous breasts rubbing lewdly against Charmaine's hard pointy little nipples, sending wave after wave of rich erotic excitement through her over-stimulated body. Well, there's no point in worrying about it now, Mandy decided, yielding herself to the girl's urgent caresses and feeling her excitement mount towards the point of no return. Surrendering, she sucked Charmaine's long supple tongue moistly into her own mouth, feeling the shooting fiery streams of pure erotic sensation swarming into her loins.
Sensing that Charmaine would be passive and that she should take the active role, Mandy rolled over on top of the rich young woman, feeling an extra tingle of excitement run through her nervous system as she felt her breasts crushing insistently into Charmaine's, while her loins ground mercilessly down into the other girl's open welcoming groin. She could feel Charmaine's super-hardened little clitoris, rigid and quivering with excitement, pressing up against her own, and both young women opened their legs widely in a desperate attempt to take advantage of this accidental contact.
"Oh . .. God, it's heavenly!" Charmaine groaned in a state of pure animal bliss, as Mandy's hips fucked powerfully into hers. The blonde woman was slowly losing all semblance of self-control, and Mandy could feel the lushly trembling body beneath her begin to quiver with rampant erotic joy. Her mind was shattered by the unexpected realization that she could enjoy doing it with another woman as much as with a man, but there was too much going on for her to contemplate the philosophic implications of discovering that she was bi-sexual! She was having the ride of her life!
Suddenly, the tawny blonde heiress moaned a special agonized moan, her body going tense and rigid as if every muscle in her athletic young body were convulsing simultanously, and her fingernails dug sharply into the delicate flesh of Mandy's rump.
"Oh . . . Mandiiii... is this it? Is this what I'm supposed to feel? I think I'm cummmmming! Ahhhhhh!"
If you're not cumming we'd better call a doctor, sweetie, thought Mandy with simple joy as she watched her new friend's voluptuous young body writhe with orgiastic pleasure as the first orgasm of her career convulsed through her innocent flesh.
"Oh Christ, Mandi!" Charmaine gasped, almost sobbing with pure animal happiness. "So that's what it feels like! Oh thank you, thank you for teaching me how!"
"Well it wasn't exactly spontaneous," admitted Mandy wryly, laying her head on
Charmaine's welcoming breasts and continuing to rub her loins hungrily against the other girl's leg. The session had gotten her all stirred up again, and now her unsatisfied body was twitching restlessly, begging to be stroked and caressed even more.
"It doesn't make any difference!" Charmaine assured. "How can I make it happen to you? I want to pay you back!"
Without waiting for an answer, Charmaine abruptly rolled Mandy onto her back, sat up and whirled around on her buttocks so that her head was on a level with the oriental girl's loins. "I read about this in one of Dexter's dirty books," she announced lustily, her head dipping towards Mandy's tempting little cunt. "As long as we're into this, we might as well go all the way!"
Chapter Seven
Meanwhile, forces were converging on the Fenlon-Smith mansion, uncontrollable and separate forces set in motion by a complicated chain of events which only a genuine oriental mystic could have explained.
The first force was deadly. There were three angry young men on motorcycles, smelling pungently of horseshit tearing up the road in their haste to return to the scene of their previous crimes and commit a few new ones. Murph, Butch and Slinky had spent the night behind the stables of the local raceway, fighting over a limited quantity of excrement until they were found at dawn by an amused veternarian who explained that there was no disease known to medical science which could be cured by total immersion in horseshit.
The second force was legal and consisted in a team of high-level corporation lawyers accompanied by two detectives and an Assistant
District Attorney for the State of California who carried a warrant for the arrest of Mr. Fenlon-Smith, Dexter's father. After several months of checking books and records, the investigators had concluded that the Fenlon-Smith fortune was built in its entirety upon the systematic defrauding of the government to the tune of thirty million dollars. The most generous assessment of the legal situation was that Fenlon-Smith senior could be out of jail by about 1995 if the judge was feeling lenient on the day of the sentencing. Naturally, every cent the Fenlon-Smith's had in the bank was to be confiscated, together with the house and all the furniture in it.
The third force was also legal, but better armed, consisting of a posse of state troopers, who had finally put together the evidence from the slaughter at the Mother Truckers' Diner and the death of Ernie shortly afterwards with the sudden appearance of an otherwise unknown oriental homosexual at the Willowy Heights Hotel, reaching the conclusion that Mark was Mandy and Mandy had an unfortunate tendency to be present when and where mayhen was being committed. While Dexter's chest was being sewn back together, the young man had talked in glowing terms about the magnificent oriental girl who had saved his testicles from amputation. When the report reached headquarters, the decision was made to bring Mandy in for questioning before she provoked World War Three or the total collapse of the San Andreas Fault.
The fourth force was a private ambulance which had been engaged by Mrs. Fenlon-Smith to carry her darling son home from the hospital, so that he could recover in the presence of the girl he had recently decided he was going to marry, a Bangladesh beauty known as Mandy.
And the fifth force was a truck driven by a Mexican named (along with fourteen million other Mexicans) Pablo. In the back of the truck was a collection of shabby used furniture which Pablo carried as a cover for the real merchandise under the seat which was high-grade Acapulco Gold, a few pounds of which he was to drop off at the home of Dexter Fenlon-Smith, one of his very best clients.
Unfortunately, all five forces arrived at approximately the same time.
Mandy had lost count, actually, but she had cum a great many times and she was not at all sure she could handle any more. But Charmaine's gratefulness made her inexhaustable, and she ignored the oriental girl's feeble, half-hearted attempts to push her away.
"One more time, Mandy," she pleaded, and Mandy relaxed, spreading her legs lasciviously apart as she prepared herself to be tongue-fucked again into a frenzy of mindless sexual delirium, deciding that there were some gifts she could never bring herself to refuse. Charmaine's red lips explored the soft pink flesh of Mandy's moistly palpitating cunt, her tongue flicking out expertly into her throbbing vagina.
Charmaine had been genuinely innocent until that morning, Mandy realized, protected from sex by the fact that she was frightened of men, and too ignorant to realize that she liked women instead. But in the course of an hour's transsexual meditation with Mandy, everything had changed for the young heiress, and she would never be the same again.
Mandy turned, as she felt the searing touch of Charmaine's tongue sweep tenderly over the moist jewel of her clitoris, feeling a sudden flood of affection for her newly found girlfriend. There, right before her lust-dilated eyes, was Charmaine's fresh young cunt, warm and liquid from the repeated orgasms she had experienced. Mandy had touched her with her hands, finger-fucking her into ecstasy after ecstasy, but now she was struck with an even darker temptation. Slowly she bent over, opening her mouth and extending her tongue to touch the tiny glistening bud of her friend's clitoris.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm!" there was a gurgle of erotic joy from Charmaine's throat, and Mandy felt encouraged to go all the way. Using her hands, she pushed the sleekly churning surfaces of Charmaine's thighs apart, burying her face voraciously in the girl's supple body, her lips closing over her clitoris with savage delight. Carried away by her own lesbian emotions, Mandy began to suck with all her might, thrusting her tongue obscenely up into the quivering lust-inflated passage of her cunt while Charmaine groaned out the intensity of her sexual need.
Mandy came, powerfully, but she controlled the spasm, and devoted all the energy left in her lust-consumed body to the one task of sucking Charmaine until she came as hard as it was possible for a woman to cum!
"Weeeellll, lookie what we got here!" came a man's voice from the doorway. Mandy knew that voice, knew it well, and she looked up with fear in her heart into the merciless steel-gray eyes of Murph. The big biker was smiling, but there was no humor in his face.
"Don't stop!" begged Charmaine piteously, too far gone in the madness of her newly awakened lust to care who was watching them or why. But Mandy was scared, knowing that she could not expect to make up a story good enough to fool this savage bunch a second time. She could smell the remnants of the horseshit from across the room and she knew that they would make her pay for that little fib about a rare oriental disease.
"A couple of lesbos, eh?" commented Murph as he sauntered across the room. "Think we can make a couple of normal women out of these two queers?"
"We oughta try," suggested Slinky evilly. "They'll thank us for it later."
"For these two, maybe there ain't gonna be a later," menaced Butch angrily. "It all depends..."
"Don't hurt her," begged Mandy, trying to sum up the courage she needed to deal with this dreadful situation. Probably, they would kill her, but there was no reason for Charmaine to suffer. "Do what you want to with me, but leave her alone!"
"Ain't that touching!" snarled Butch, striding over to where she crouched nakedly on the floor. "You wanna save yer little girlfriend's life? Okay, get on your knees and start sucking. Do it really good and I mean super-good, and we'll think about maybe cuttin' off only one of her tits instead of both of 'em."
There was a moment of total silence. Butch had jerked open the front of his leather pants, exposing his massive genital equipment and the frightened girl watched his cock slowly transform itself from a flaccid limp column of flesh to the menacingly hard rod Mandy remembered so clearly from their last encounter. Charmaine seemed to be in a state of shock.
Naked and glistening with sweat, her body was still visibly aroused from her sex-encounter with Mandy, and her mind did not seem to have adjusted to the new situation which had been forced upon them. The others were watching, eagerly waiting to see how Mandy would react. Before, they had raped her, and that had been one thing, but now she was being asked to respond of her own accord.
Realizing that their lives rested in her hands, and their chance of getting out of this mess in one piece depended upon how completely she could satisfy these angry men, Mandy decided to waste no more time. They wanted abject humiliation out of her, and if she could handle all three of them and fast, there was just a chance that they might leave Charmaine alone. She crawled, the tempting half-moons of her buttocks jiggling provocatively, and she kneeled before Butch like a pagan temple slave, ready for the sacrifice of her mouth. It's nothing you haven't done before, she tried to reassure herself. But this time, it's got to be good.
Carefully, she curled her delicate fingers aiound the thickly aggressive shaft of the man's jutting cock, slowly bringing her serene young face up to meet the scarlet red tip of his manhood. She had never realized precisely how big he really was, and in retrospect, the girl wondered how this fearsome object could possibly have fit into the tenderness of her loins. Butch's hips jerked convulsively as she licked him for the first time, running her tongue lasciviously across the broadness of his bulging cock and feeling his rough motorcyclist's hands wind threateningly into her hair.
"Start sucking, baby," Murph advised her from the opposite side of the room. "Show us how you do it in Bengladoosh."
Mandy obeyed, feeling that familiar tingle of forbidden lust beginning deep in the pit of her stomach, and realizing with self-contempt that there was apparently nothing so degrading, so sinful, or so lascivious, that it would not tum her on, sooner or later.
"Don't do it, Mandy," pleaded Charmaine in horror, getting to her hands and knees as if she were planning to interfere. "They wouldn't dare hurt us!"
"Shut up, you little bitch!" growled Murph threateningly.
Mandy ignored the argument, knowing that the three bikers were capable of just about anything. Butch moved forward, forcing his long thick cock between the oval elastic defenses of her lips, and the oriental girl took a deep breath as she felt the massive tip of his cock sliding smoothly towards the back of her mouth. She worked hard, discovering that she had mastered the technique of breathing on the outstroke and holding her breath while Butch probed cruelly for the back of her throat, deliberately trying to make her choke.
"Get out of here!" she heard Charmaine screaming on the other side of the room, and Mandy glanced over in time to see the tall blonde heiress being slapped viciously to the floor as Murph and Slinky moved in on her. It had been pointless to expect that they would leave such a voluptuously tempting creature alone, particularly when they had caught her nakedly embracing another woman. Mandy's knowledge of masculine psychology was incomplete, but she realized that to studs like these, a lesbian represented a challenge.
Charmaine was on the floor now, struggling futilely and sobbing out her dismay as Murph and Slinky piled on top of her. Poor little Charmaine! She was going to make love to a man, or several men, whether she wanted to or not! But she was not destined to lose her virginity ... at least not today. Murph rolled her roughly over onto her stomach, his hands crudely seizing her buttocks and twisting the delicate half-moons apart. The girl writhed uselessly, but Murph's rigidly pulsating cock was already out, and aimed directly at the puckered little hole of her rectum. Charmaine did not realize it yet, but her first experience with a male was going to be anal!
"Noooooohhhhhhh!" the girl's scream of horror split the air and Mandy could hear rumblings and shouts of alarm in other parts of the house as other members of the Fenlon-Smith family realized that something had gone wrong. But for the moment, no one interrupted them, and Charmaine was left to her fate. Murph's finger forced its way cruelly into the tightly puckered circle of her anus, bringing a groan of despair to the young woman's lips. Out of the corner of her eye, Mandy watched, remembering how it had been when she herself had been obliged to yield herself sodomistically to a man for the first time. It was horrible, but fascinating at the same time, and she wondered if Charmaine would have the sense to relax her body and try to enjoy the inevitable.
"Concentrate, you bitch!" rumbled a voice from above her, and Mandy realized that she had become so absorbed in the bizarre anal ravishment of Charmaine, that she had nearly forgotten about the man whose long jutting pole she held between her cruelly stretched lips. And
Butch was getting impatient. Warming to her appointed task, Mandy sucked the quivering shaft of his penis even deeper, feeling her mouth slowly fill with an obscene mixture of saliva and semen. Hard as she tried to avoid it, lewdly stimulating fantasies began to flow back into her mind as she peeked again at her unfortunate friend Charmaine. Murph had made substantial progress, his huge rampant cock now embedded halfway into the blonde girl's widely-expanding rectum while Slinky made himself useful by pinning her shoulders to the floor and trying to hold her head still so that he could thrust his lust-thickened cock into the sanctuary of her mouth. Charmaine was still struggling weakily, but Mandy could see that the real fight was gone, and the girl's body would soon be submissive and accepting. No woman alive could hold off those two brutes.
"Oooohhhhhh!" there was a long low strange-sounding grunt ending with a peculiar gurgle which informed Mandy that Charmaine had opened her mouth at the wrong moment and now had a mouthful of rampant cock as a consequence. But the girl seemed to have changed in some subtle way, and the oriental girl guessed that the heiress was coming around at last. Her body seemed to be on fire, writhing with desperate lustful energy as Murph sodomized her ruthlessly from the rear and Slinky skewered mercilessly into her mouth from the front. And Charmaine was looking less and less like a lesbian with every passing minute! In fact, she was giving every indication of being out of her mind with unquenchable desire!
Lucky for her, thought Mandy glumly. If we get out of this mess alive, she'll find that these boys have cured her frigidity a lot better than I could have. Spontaneous orgasms are okay for the Narthusi, but nothing beats the good old-fashioned kind.
Butch was grunting, almost chanting now as he screwed violently into Mandy's mouth, fucking her face as if it were simply another cunt into which he could discharge the hot sticky cum from deep in his balls. The girl sensed that the biker was getting close, and she began to suck him like a madwoman, cupping his balls in her hands as she drew his long ironlike rod impossibly far into her throat. Her life could well depend upon how good a cum it was for Butch, and she worked to make this the best blow job in the history of oral sex.
Suddenly, he tightened, his muscles getting abruptly hard and his loins slamming into her face as he thrust the heavy blunt glans of his cock so deep in her throat that she nearly gagged for lack of breath.
"Goddamn . . . this is the best cocksucker ... I ever .. . ahhhhhhhh!" Butch gasped as the orgasm swept over him. Mandy's Adam's apple bounced wildly as she choked and swallowed, trying desperately not to lose a drop of the precious life-fluid the big biker was spurting endlessly down her throat. It seemed to go on forever and ever, and Mandy sucked and whimpered, and licked and gulped, not wanting it to end for fear of what was going to happen to her after the fun was over.
Then the sirens started.
People began running into the room. There was a whirl of confusion and Mandy found herself rolling over on the floor as Butch pushed her away. An elderly man had rushed in, a shotgun in his hand, his eyes wild with fury. Without thinking about the matter too carefully, Mandy deduced that this was Fenlon-Smith Senior, the millionaire financial wizard. She also deduced that he was upset about the fact that two unknown persons, people to whom he had never been introduced, seemed to be fucking his daughter in the ass and in the mouth. Mr. Fenlon-Smith was an embezzler by profession, which is why the district attorney, who at the very moment was walking in the front door, wanted to arrest him, but as far as his daughter's morals were concerned, he was somewhat old-fashioned.
Murph looked up in alarm, trying to disengage himself from Charmaine's over-stimulated body, but at that precise moment the young blonde was experiencing an orgasm, and her rectal muscles were so tight that Murph found it impossible to break away.
"Oh fuck meeeeeee," she was screaming.
"Don't stop!"
"Look, Mister, I can explain everything," Murph began, and for a moment it looked as if the old man were actually going to give him the time to do it. But actually he was only fumbling with the safety catch, and the moment he mastered that little detail, he stuck the muzzle of the shotgun into Murph's stomach and blew him in two separate pieces, neither one of which would ever ride a big bike again.
The ambulance arrived just at that moment and Dexter Fenlon-Smith still wearing a white hospital robe jumped out in alarm, hearing shots and screaming, and fearing the worst.
"You're under arrest!" yelled the district attorney as he entered the room. "Embezzlement, grand larceny, petty larceny, forgery, fraud, conspiracy to misuse state funds, attempted bribery, successful bribery, and . . . " The DA looked at Murph's mangled remains with distaste. "Murder in the first degree!"
"It was simple manslaughter, unpremeditated, with mitigating circumstances," commented one of the lawyers. "The man was buggering his daughter." Then, as if to punctuate his lawyer's remarks, Fenlon-Smith re-cocked the shotgun and shot Slinky in the head. It was not a bad shot, but then it is difficult to miss at a range of three inches. The shotgun kicked like a mule and Slinky's head simply disappeared.
Dexter ran into the room, screaming, "Mandy!" and promptly fainted as he watched Slinky's headless body fall slowly to the floor, blood spurting uselessly from the severed arteries in his neck and drenching Charmaine's body, so that she was virtually Unrecognizable. One of the detectives began to wrestle with Mr. Fenlon-Smith for possession of the shotgun while the other drew his weapon and shot Butch in the leg because 'Butch had pulled out his switchblade with the intention of killing Mr. Fenlon-Smith.
The timing was very close, but when Pablo pulled into the Fenlon-Smith front yard and found that right behind him there were three cars full of state troopers, he became the most nervous Mexican north of the Rio Grande. His hands trembling on the wheel, he put the truck in neutral, watching as the gringo fuzz leaped from their squad cars and rushed into the house, their guns at the ready. Being a sensitive man, he somehow judged that this was not the best moment in history to see if Dexter Fenlon-Smith wanted a new supply of grass. Instead he occupied himself with trying to look casual as he turned the truck around so that the front was pointed in the general direction of Mexico City.
In the meantime, Mandy jumped to her feet, slipped on sombody's blood, fell over Dexter's unconscious body and crawled nakedly out of the room, just as Butch managed to put his knife between the sixth and seventh rib of the dectective who had shot him in the leg. The detective fell over backwards, his pistol catching Dexter in the back of the head, just as the youth was recovering from his faint.
"My darling Mandy!" said Dexter, sitting up in groggy confusion and throwing himself passionately on his sister's body, since the young man was a trifle disoriented by the activities around him and the bump on the back of his cranium.
"Oh fuck me, please," gasped Charmaine, no longer caring what happened so long as someone erased the insatiable hunger now raging out of control in her loins. Blinded by passion and the presence of Slinky's blood in her eyes she ripped off Dexter's hospital gown and thrust her hips up against his, trying desperately to rouse his flaccid cock into life.
Mandy got to her hands and knees, crawling out of the room and into the corridor just as the state troopers roared in the front door.
"There she is, men!" shouted the captain in charge of the raid, spotting her as she darted down the hall and remembering that every time she had been seen, she had been running nakedly away from the scene of some disaster. The captain was already contemplating the headlines celebrating his capture of the notorious oriental outlaw. CRAFTY CAPTAIN CAPTURE GENOCIDAL JAP!, he was thinking happily as Mandy leaped to her feet, her mind functioning now on brute instinct, and raced nakedly out of the house and across the patio. The troopers would certainly have followed her, since they possessed a warrant for her arrest in connection with five otherwise unexplained murders, but unfortunately Fenlon-Smith Senior regained possession of his shotgun at that point stormed out of the room and opened fire on them while Dexter made passionate love to Charmaine under the impression she was the daughter of the Mahatma of Upper Bengal.
By the time the police subdued Dexter's father, the girl was well into the woods. She reached the road just as Pablo's truck emerged from the Fenlon-Smith grounds, and for a moment, the Mexican marijuana merchant and the naked Japanese-American girl looked at each other very carefully. Then Pablo opened the door.
"Please to hurry," he suggested.
"You're going to Mexico?" Mandy gasped in desperation having noted the foreign plates.
Pablo looked at the fine lush bosom, the narrow waist, the smooth tawny flesh of her stomach leading to the dark inviting triangle of her pussy and nodded slowly, having learned to accept life's little surprises without much emotion. Then he put the truck in gear, and they headed for the border.
Mandy hid under the seat as they passed the customs, and once on the Mexican side of the border, Pablo relaxed and rolled her a marijuana cigarette. Mandy relaxed, too, enjoying the warm sun on her naked skin, putting her bare feet up on the dashboard and inhaling deeply as she told Pablo all about Bangladesh.
