Sugar held her breath and with great care and caution attempted to tiptoe past her mother and uncle lying naked on the floor. But as she started to go past them, Uncle Ben popped open one eye drunkenly. His hand shot out and grabbed Sugar's ankle. "Please!" Sugar pleaded as she struggled against his hold. Then a cold fear began crawling in the pit of her stomach as she felt her mother grab her from behind and help Uncle Ben wrestle her to the floor. Trying desperately to fight against them, Sugar wondered in horror if she was fated to become like her sluttish mother. Was there no escape from the depravity surrounding her?
CHAPTER ONE
If Sugar Kane had to pick one particular day that was the darkest of all the other heartbreaking days she knew in her life, she unquestionably would have pointed to the afternoon when she was fifteen and came home from school to learn that her mother and father had separated, were planning a divorce.
For a long time, Sugar had been aware that her parents were not compatible, that they fought often and violently. She knew, too, that her mother had been fucking with other men. Her father was a salesman and spent a great deal of time on the road, away from home. Any number of times, on these occasions, Sugar had been awakened at odd hours of the night by the sound of a car stopping in front of their one-bedroom apartment. Getting out of bed and hurrying to the window, she would often watch as her mother climbed out of a strange car, paused a moment to pull down her skirt or adjust the neckline of her dress, before continuing on into the building where they lived. It never failed that when her mother got into bed, beside her, Sugar could tell by the reek of alcohol on her mother's breath that she had been drinking heavily. There was another smell, too, that Sugar, in her inexperience and innocence, failed to recognize as the odor of sex.
Sugar had heard her mother accuse her father of fucking other women, too. But in spite of all these accusations and all these things happening, Sugar, in her naivet�, never dreamed that the whole mess would end in divorce and change her entire way of life. It might not have been such a shocking experience for Sugar if the divorce proceedings had been conducted more discreetly.
As it happened, Sugar's father went all out to nail her mother, hiring private detectives to get the evidence he needed to sue for divorce. They got the required proof all right, when they burst into a shabby, second-rate hotel in the downtown section of Los Angeles, where Sugar had been born. They caught Ella Kane, Sugar's mother, in bed with one of her Johns. Both she and the man were stark naked and among the pictures taken was one that showed the man pulling his dripping whang out from between her splayed legs.
However, Ella Kane was not the type to take this sort of thing from her husband lying down. She immediately began a counter-suit and came up with as much evidence against him as he had presented against her-even if she could show no pictures.
It was a sordid case that dragged through the courts for weeks, receiving far more publicity than the usual run of divorce proceedings, since Sugar's father had at one time run for a minor political office in the city. Before the case was over, even Sugar appeared on the stand, which proved a traumatic experience for a fifteen-year-old girl.
The upshot of the case was that her mother was awarded custody of Sugar, since her father wanted no part of her, and they continued to live in the same one-bedroom apartment in Westwood, hard by Wilshire Boulevard. Also, as soon as the divorce was final, Sugar's father remarried and with his new wife moved away from the city of Los Angeles and out of Sugar's life.
Sugar continued going to high school while her mother took a job as a waitress in a Sunset Boulevard cocktail lounge. For a long time, Sugar had no idea that, aside from hustling drinks, her mother's job called for certain extracurricular activities. These activities included allowing male customers to run a hand up her abbreviated skirt when she leaned across their dimly lighted table, or feel one of her generously endowed tits that Sugar envied so much and wished one day, not too far off, she would inherit. Another extra was accompanying same male customers out into the big lot behind the lounge and accommodating them on the back seat of their parked cars.
Then one night, her mother, drunker than usual, brought one of her gentlemen friends' home with her. Sugar was asleep in the bedroom when they came in. It wasn't until strange sounds began emanating from the living room that Sugar awakened, got out of bed, put on a negligee and hurried into the adjoining room to see what was happening.
She got as far as the doorway, where she halted with a hand at her throat, stifling a shocked cry. For there before her on the divan, in the dim light from the floor lamp, was her mother and the man she had brought home with her, both of them nude and engaged in the act of fucking.
At the sound of Sugar's gasp, the man turned his head and stared at her in open-mouthed amazement. "Who the hell's that?" he demanded.
Ella Kane opened her violet eyes and looked up from beneath him at the girl frozen on the threshold. "That's my daughter...Sugar."
"You didn't tell me you had a daughter," the man rumbled.
"You didn't ask me, honey," Ella retorted, then to her daughter, "You go back to bed, Sugar baby."
Then the two of them went back to their humping, completely ignoring Sugar's presence.
Sugar just stood there, transfixed, watching the man's fat, glistening, red cock slide in and out of the fur-trimmed, red slot between her mother's widespread legs. She kept telling herself it couldn't be. In spite of all the things she'd heard about those photographs at the trial, without actually seeing them, in spite of all the many cars she'd seen her mother slip out of in the wee hours of the morning, Sugar couldn't believe that her mother was capable of such a thing-not with a strange man.
She kept watching, as if she were paralyzed, telling herself that it wasn't really happening, that it was all part of some terrible nightmare-until her mother began to moan and squirm beneath the man in the throes of orgasm. Then it was as if the sickness in the pit of her stomach reached into her brain, and everything exploded.
With a scream like a banshee, Sugar hurled herself forward and began beating on the man's bare back and ass with her girlish fists, her nails scratching and clawing at him.
"What the fuck?" the man blurted out, and with one swipe of his hand he caught Sugar alongside the face and sent her sprawling onto the floor. He had been on the verge of spilling his load when Sugar attacked him and now that he had finished with Sugar he continued to pummel Ella's eager cunt.
Ella was either too drunk, or too engrossed in what she was doing, but she made no attempt to find out whether or not her daughter, sprawled out on the floor across the room from them, had been hurt. Ella just lay there on the couch, eyes closed tightly, matching the man above her, thrust for thrust, until with a groan his cock exploded inside her belly and they clung to each other in the throes of ecstasy.
Sugar had pulled herself to a sitting position on the floor as the man withdrew his wilted cock, a long strand of his sperm connecting it to her mother's snatch. He got to his feet, his prick slapping against his right thigh as he started to gather together his clothes.
"You're a damn good screw," he said to Ella. "But I'll be fucked if I want it again, long as you got a crazy, goddamned daughter hanging around."
Ella said nothing; she just continued to lie there on the couch, wiping his residue from between her shapely legs with a handful of tissue she had grabbed from a box on the floor.
Sugar said nothing, either. She simply picked herself up from the floor and hurried into the bedroom, waiting until she got there to let go of the bottled-up tears of humiliation and disgust and heartbreak that she'd kept locked up inside her. She got into bed and lay there curled up in a fetal position in the darkness, until finally she heard the man bid her mother good night and go out through the front door. A moment later her mother came stalking into the bedroom. She snapped on the light, and Sugar turned in bed to face her, standing there stark naked before her.
Sugar had always thought her mother was the most beautiful woman alive. Slender with big, firm, white breasts without even a hint of sag to them in spite of their weightiness, and an abundance of curly black hair that covered the lower part of her flat belly and seemed thicker and blacker as it ran down between her shapely thighs. The hair atop her head was black, too, her eyes violet. When her mother was sober and properly made up, Sugar thought she looked a lot like Liz Taylor. But she didn't look a damn bit like Liz Taylor now.
Sugar had never seen her mother look angrier, as she stood there at the side of the bed, glaring down at her fiercely.
"And suppose you tell me just what the hell you thought you were doing out there in the next room tonight?" the woman demanded fiercely.
Sugar met her mother's gaze reprovingly. "I think you should be the one to answer that question. My own mother doing such a thing. I'm thoroughly ashamed."
"Ashamed?" Ella shrieked, her face a mask of fury. "Ashamed of what? Me keeping a roof over your head...putting food in your belly...helping you to live in the kind of neighborhood and attend the kind of school I want for you? I'd like to know just how the hell you think I could afford such things? You think I get any support from your father? I haven't got one red cent from the son of a bitch since he remarried. You think maybe the money comes from waiting on tables in a cruddy damn cocktail lounge? You've got a hell of a lot to learn, my innocent, little high-ass daughter! One thing you're going to find out before you get very much older is that if you want something bad enough, you've sometimes got to do a hell of a lot of things you don't want to do to get it. So before you start being ashamed, you ask yourself how badly you want the things I'm peddling my ass to give you!"
Then without another word Sugar's mother turned and swept through the bedroom into the John, slamming the door shut behind her. Sugar sat there in bed, staring at the closed door, sobbing as tears streamed down her cheeks, until she heard the door start to open. Then she quickly turned and buried her face under the covers so that her mother couldn't tell she'd been crying.
She heard her mother turn out the light, pad barefooted toward the bed and get into it. She could feel the warmth of her mother's nearly naked body through her flimsy nightie as she lay close beside her. She waited a long time, trying to find words to say to her mother that would make everything right between them again. Then finally she turned, threw an arm around her mother and cuddled close to her and whispered the only words that would come to her.
"I love you, Mother," she said with all the feeling inside her. "I think you're the most wonderful mother a girl ever had."
Her mother made no reply. But by the way her mother kissed her, Sugar knew that all was forgiven-even though she could never condone what she'd seen her mother do with that strange man.
CHAPTER TWO
It wasn't easy for Sugar to accept the things her mother had told her that night in her drunken anger. While she had listened to all those horrible stories told about her mother at the trial, had even seen what happened with that strange man in the living room, it was a shocking, shattering thing to actually hear it from her mother's own lips.
Not that Sugar wasn't appreciative or more than grateful for the way her mother had fought, the only way she knew how, to keep the two of them together after her father left. It was simply that she knew that none of the things her mother was doing were morally right.
For a while Sugar thought seriously of quitting school and getting a full-time job, so she could supplement the money her mother earned as a cocktail waitress and make it unnecessary for her to do the other things. But Sugar knew that if she dropped out of high school before graduation, she'd probably wind up living the same sort of sordid existence as her mother.
It didn't take long for her to discover that no one would hire a fifteen- or even a sixteen-year-old girl, especially one without experience, on a full-time basis. The best she could manage was a part-time job as a stock girl in what used to be known as a five-and-dime store, after school hours.
To Sugar's dismay and disappointment, this added money she was bringing into the house in no way curtailed her mother's drinking or promiscuity. If anything, the woman drank harder, and since Sugar went directly from school to work, it gave her mother an opportunity to entertain her gentlemen friends at home during the afternoon.
Even though the men were always gone by the time Sugar got home, because her mother herself had to go to work, Sugar would find unmistakable stains on the bed sheets and even a used condom or wad of soiled tissues on the floor beside the bed that her mother had overlooked.
This unsavory home life continued for Sugar until she was seventeen and a senior in high school, looking forward eagerly to graduation. Then she planned to go to business college and take a secretarial course, so that she could get herself a decent job, meet the right kind of people, maybe even the right man and make something of her life.
It was while she was seventeen that she came home one night from the five-and-dime store, where she was still working after school. As usual, she changed into a nightie and negligee, sat down at the table in the kitchen and busied herself with her homework, waiting until her mother came home, as she often did, so they could discuss each other's day.
She had no idea how long she'd been sitting there, engrossed in her studies, when the doorbell rang. Instinctively, she drew the negligee tighter around herself and looked up at the kitchen clock. She hadn't realized that it was well past midnight. Occasionally, when things were slow at the lounge and she had no business to attend to afterward, her mother would come home this early. But she had her own key, unless, of course, she'd mislaid it.
Sugar got up and barefooted through the living room to the door. She unlocked and opened it as far as the chain would allow. She frowned at the man standing in the shadows in the corridor.
"Yes?"
The man frowned as he tried to peer through the slight opening of the door. "I got the right apartment?" he asked. "Is this where Ella Kane lives?"
The breath hissed out of Sugar as she caught a glimpse of the man's moon face and recognized his voice. "Uncle Ben!" she exclaimed as she removed the chain from the door and threw it open.
"Uncle Ben?" he echoed with profound surprise as his eyes raced over her, from her bare toes to the top of her brown-thatched head. "You ain't... I mean you can't be Ella's kid?"
Sugar smiled and wagged her head and helped him remember her name.
"Sugar ... of course! How could I ever forget that?" he exclaimed, his steely gaze frankly admiring her loosely contained breasts, and there was plenty to gaze upon now.
In the past year or so, Sugar's body had reached delightful young womanhood. Gone was the baby fat from around her middle and upper thighs. Now her exquisitely shaped legs were long and slender, smooth as polished ivory, whiter than milk, ending in the hard, chiseled mounds of her girlish ass. With an abdomen as flat as rolled metal, no statue could boast of being a more perfect work of art. Her rich, brown hair had grown longer, too, reaching well down past her shoulders while her breasts had grown to the beauteous, breathtaking proportions of her mother's that, as a growing girl, she had admired so much and wished that one day she would inherit.
"Come in, Uncle Ben," Sugar said as she ran to him impulsively and kissed him on the lips. He tasted and smelled of liquor. She remembered how, as a small child, she'd climb into his lap and hug and kiss him whenever he came to visit. Sometimes Uncle Ben would be embarrassed, especially when Sugar's father was home and she ignored him and showered all her attention on Uncle Ben. Her mother said it was her father's fault because he never showed Sugar any affection.
Whatever, Uncle Ben never kissed her as a child the way he did now as he hugged her to him, squashing her tits against his barrel chest, a hand moving down her back for a feel of her well-defined asscheeks. But it wasn't until Sugar became aware of the hardening lump in the right leg of his trousers that she felt a slight twinge of embarrassment and alarm.
She drew back from him quickly. But immediately forgot her concern, because after all, he was Uncle Ben, her mother's brother. There was nothing to fear from him. It was probably just her imagination, the phobia she'd developed against all men. After all, her experiences with them during her brief lifetime hadn't been very pleasant. First, her father leaving them and then, wittingly or unwittingly, the way men had degraded her mother.
After she helped her uncle into the apartment with his two suitcases, they both stood for a moment in the living room, staring at each other.
"Ella's daughter!" he kept repeating as if it were impossible for him to accept. "I never would have believed it. I never would've known you in a hundred years. You were just a skinny kid."
"Kids have a way of growing up, Uncle Ben," she reminded him.
He nodded and kept eyeing her. "But in just five or six years? You've changed so much."
But he hadn't changed. Not in appearance, at any rate. He still looked exactly the way Sugar remembered him. Not much taller than she, stockily built with a pleasant-looking, moon-shaped face, thinning hair on top and unblinking, steel-gray eyes. Since her mother celebrated her thirty-seventh birthday during the summer, that would make him about twice Sugar's age, since he was two or three years younger than her mother.
Suddenly, his slow perusal of her charms brought a strange uneasiness to her stomach and she found herself shyly clutching at the bodice of her fragile gown. She said, "Mother will be so glad to see you, Uncle Ben."
He wagged his head perfunctorily and lifted his eyes from her boobs to meet her gaze. "She working?"
Sugar told him where and what time she'd be home. Then she asked him, "Can I get you something to eat, Uncle Ben?"
"Hey, that'd be real nice," he replied. "I ain't had nothing in my stomach since I left Cleveland before noontime."
"You drive all the way?" Sugar wanted to know, feeling more and more uncomfortable in the flimsy negligee and nightie she was wearing. After all, she was no longer a little girl, as his expression and his eyes told her.
He shook his head in answer to her question. "Rode the bus."
She began to move toward the bedroom. "You sit down, Uncle Ben, and rest. I'll be right out and fix something for you to eat."
He frowned. "Where are you going?"
"To change," she told him. "I won't be more than a few seconds."
"Change?" he exacted. "What d'ya want to change for? You look okay to me as you are."
She hesitated and pulled her negligee closed tighter around her. She didn't want him to think for one moment that she was afraid of him, not her own uncle. Besides, unless the negligee came open, he couldn't really see anything. Even when she was fully dressed, there was no hiding the size of her breasts, the outline of her figure, or the shape of her legs. She guessed it was only the idea of her being in her negligee and nightie that made her feel uneasy. So rather than offend him by making him feel she had the slightest qualms toward him, she decided to stay the way she was dressed and not change.
He followed her into the kitchen, never taking his eyes off her for a second as she went about preparing bacon and eggs, and a mess of frozen hash browns for him. She tried not to feel self-conscious or be aware of his eyes on her, especially when she stooped or bent over and showed him a flash of her naked thighs or the rising swell of her knockers.
"I don't suppose your mother's got a drink hidden away anywhere?" Ben asked as the bacon, eggs and potatoes began to sizzle on the front burner of the gas stove.
"I think she keeps a bottle or two in one of her dresser drawers in the bedroom," Sugar replied. "If you'll watch the bacon and eggs, I'll go get it."
He wagged his balding head, and she could feel his hot eyes watching the backs of her legs and the wiggle of her thinly clad behind as she hurried out of the room.
When Sugar got into the bedroom and turned on the light, she paused to look at herself in the mirror. In her heart, she couldn't blame her uncle for ogling her luscious body so lustily exposed in the thin negligee and the even more revealing nightie. After all, he told her quite frankly he couldn't believe she was that same little girl who used to crawl all over him. He probably couldn't make himself accept the fact that she was his niece.
However, she decided it would be wiser for her to put on one of her heavier robes. So she stripped off the negligee and tossed it onto the bed. The baby-doll nightie she had on was little better than nothing. The pinkness of her nipples and areolas as well as the outline of her entire titties showed through the gossamer material that barely covered the rich, dark-brown pelt between her legs.
She turned and took a step toward the closet when she saw Uncle Ben standing in the doorway that led from the living room. She tried desperately to steady her jumpy nerves and quiet the cold fear crawling in her stomach as his eyes raped her gleaming flesh so inadequately veiled by her nightie and hands.
"I... I was just getting my robe," she stammered as she backed toward the closet. "I ... I felt a little chilly."
He took a step into the room. She could see that horrible swelling in his trousers that seemed to reach halfway down his right thigh, throbbing violently.
"If... if you want the bottle, Uncle Ben," she got out, visibly trembling now, "it's in the bottom drawer of the dresser ..."
He began to move toward her, very slowly, his mind obviously on things other than booze.
Sugar shivered in a paroxysm of fear. He was her uncle. She kept reminding herself of that fact. But he was also a man, and it was clear that, niece or not, to him she was a very beautiful and sexually attractive young girl.
"Please, Uncle Ben...no," she kept begging him as she reached the door of the closet.
"I wouldn't hurt you, Sugar baby," he said. "Ain't that what I used to call you when you were little-my Sugar baby?"
She was too terrified to even wag her head, let alone answer him as he began to close in on her.
"That means you're still my Sugar-baby," he murmured. He started to reach out to grasp her wrist-when a voice from the doorway behind him boomed out shrilly.
"What the hell's going on here?"
Uncle Ben froze, then turned quickly to face the doorway. Standing there was Sugar's mother. She recognized her brother in a glance.
"Ben!" she cried out excitedly.
"Ella!" he returned, and the two of them met in the center of the bedroom in a warm and enthusiastic embrace. They kissed a lot differently than Sugar had ever seen brother and sister kiss before. But now that she recalled, they were always very demonstrative toward each other. In fact, her mother had always showed him a great deal more affection than she had her own husband.
In a child's innocent eyes such displays of devotion were beautiful. But now, as Sugar watched the way her mother opened her mouth when she kissed him and how she pressed and ground her belly against his, she felt quite disturbed. It didn't ease the situation any when they finally drew back from each other, and Uncle Ben held his sister at arm's length with one hand, while the other hand went to her tits which he weighed tentatively, then declared, "You've still got the knockers-big and hard as Gibralter."
That was Ella's cue to drop her gaze to the enormous protrusion still in his trousers. "Speaking of things being big and hard ..." She wasn't drunk, but she'd been drinking, and it looked for a moment as if she might drop a hand to his stiff cock. But apparently she remembered her daughter's presence, because she moved Uncle Ben aside and appraised Sugar critically. "Well, what the hell are you doing walking around like that in front of your Uncle Ben? You still think you're seven or eight years old, or something?"
"It ain't her fault," Uncle Ben spoke up gallantly. "She came in here to get a robe and I wanted a drink."
"Oh," his sister said. Then she ignored Sugar, walked to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. She selected a full fifth of gin and tucked it under one arm. Then with the other hand she took her brother's arm and hugged against it, so he could feel her big tits against his bicep. "Let's you and me go out in the kitchen and talk over old times. Okay?"
"Okay."
Sugar watched them leave the bedroom but made no attempt to join them. Instead, she stayed in the bedroom, changed from her baby-dolls into a pair of more protective pajamas, turned out the light and got into bed.
CHAPTER THREE
Sugar lay there a long time, staring into the darkness, thinking. Uncle Ben had frightened her, there was no denying that. She couldn't say for sure exactly what might have happened, how far he might have gone if her mother hadn't arrived home and come into the bedroom at that precise moment.
Sugar wanted to be fair. As a child, Uncle Ben had been one of her very favorite people. She even remembered how he'd always give her something nice for her birthdays and at Christmas. When she was very young, he used to dress up as Santa. She wanted him to remain as one of her favorite people and hoped that she could forget that disagreeableness with him tonight.
After all, maybe he shouldn't be blamed entirely. She had no right to let him see her walking around dressed so revealingly. As her mother said, she was no longer a seven- or eight-year-old. Come to think of it, she might even be responsible for exciting him, for making him act the way he did by throwing her arms around him and kissing him with so much enthusiasm. She must never act that way toward him again. She must never let him see her so scantily dressed.
As she continued to lie there, she wondered how long he would stay with them. As she remembered, whenever he came to see them in the past, when her father and mother were still married, Uncle Ben's visits always lasted a couple of weeks, sometimes a month or more. She had mixed feelings about that. She'd like him to live with them for a while, because with him around, it might curtail her mother's outside activities. In fact, it might make things easier all around if Uncle Ben contributed to the household expenses. But on the other side of the coin, it would mean Sugar would not have the same freedom around the house. She couldn't just come in after work and throw off her things. She'd have to be careful how she dressed, and she'd have to make doubly sure she did nothing to arouse him, especially when she was in the apartment alone with him.
Sugar couldn't say for certain whether or not she had dozed off. But she suddenly was aware of a silence coming from the kitchen that was even louder than the sound of the loud talking and laughing they'd been making earlier. She sat up in bed and listened. She could hear what sounded like faint, muffled snoring. She wondered if it could be possible that they had both drunk themselves to sleep at the kitchen table. If so, she'd better get up and see her mother got into bed, and Uncle Ben was made comfortable on the divan in the living room.
Sugar got out of bed quietly and put on her heavy bathrobe. Then she tiptoed out of the bedroom, through the living room to the doorway of the kitchen. There she halted with the same sort of startled gasp she'd made that night she saw that man screwing her mother on the divan.
Except that this was different, far worse. Uncle Ben was seated on one of the straight-backed kitchen chairs, with his trousers and shorts at half-mast. Her mother, her panties off, dress opened in front to expose her tits and her skirt hiked up around her waist, was straddling his lap. Sugar couldn't see Uncle Ben's dong because it was hidden somewhere in her mother's dense black bush. Whether it was hard or soft, Sugar couldn't tell, either. But from the mess smearing the insides of her mother's bare legs, he must have ejaculated, and then while waiting for him to get hard again, they had both fallen asleep.
Shocked and disgusted, her insides threatening to retch at the thought that her mother had engaged in sexual intercourse with her own brother, Sugar backed away from the kitchen door until she was halfway across the living room. Then she turned and ran into the John, where she puked up her insides, after which she got back into bed and cried herself to sleep.
Sugar was right. Uncle Ben played it strictly according to form and stayed on with her and her mother, setting up permanent residence on the divan in the living room. However, it worked out much better than Sugar had figured.
Uncle Ben was an itinerant, card-holding bartender, and since Ella was on good terms with the head of the local union and the cocktail lounge where she worked needed a relief bartender, it also put him in a favorable position to line up customers for her.
Even though Uncle Ben dropped most of his salary on the horses and matching for drinks, he still brought home enough to help pay some of the bills and take some of the pressure off Sugar and her mother. It also meant that Sugar wasn't restricted as much as she thought she might be, with him living in the same apartment with them, because she was never at home with him alone.
As far as the incestuous relationship between her mother and uncle was concerned, that went on unabated. Invariably the two of them would come home from work, both drunk, and when they felt in the mood, which was quite often, Ella would curl up with her brother on the divan. Sugar would pretend she was asleep, even when her mother on rare occasions would check in on her. But she'd lie there and listen to the two of them fucking away like husband and wife instead of brother and sister.
From the fragments of conversation that Sugar overheard, this was no new thing for them. It started way back when her mother was sixteen and her uncle just turned fourteen...
Ella came home after school one day, to find a note from her mother. The note said that Ella's father had taken the day off and they'd gone to visit relatives and wouldn't be home until late that night. Which meant Ella and her brother Ben would be alone in the house all that day.
Ella had often helped her mother bathe Ben when he was very young, and became fascinated with the little tassel that hung down between his legs. Several times when her mother left the room, Ella would slip a hand under the water and examine the tiny morsel. Each time she did, it caused a strange excitement between her legs and in her budding breasts.
When finally Ben began to develop, their mother wouldn't let Ella watch or help with his bath anymore. She said they were both getting too old for such intimacies. It only tended to whet Ella's curiosity. She knew Ben was getting curious, too. She'd watch how he'd ogle her maturing titties when she wore a particularly tight sweater, or sat close by him in the living room watching TV in only a sheer nightie and see-through negligee. Until her mother or her father would chase her back to her room to "put on something decent." At other times she'd detect a slight bulge in his trousers when she'd purposely cross her legs and allow him a generous view of her bare thighs above the tops of her stockings.
Now, finally, on this day they would be alone together. Completely alone. Ella grew more and more horny just thinking about the possibilities that the day presented, particularly since she knew that at fourteen, boys normally reach puberty.
By the time Ben came home from school, she had worked herself up to a fever pitch. But she knew that she'd have to be extremely careful how she handled the situation. If she became too aggressive, too obvious, she just might frighten him off. She'd have to play him along slowly, make him the aggressor, or at least make him give her an excuse.
Feeling the way she did, it wasn't easy for her to treat him with the same casualness she ordinarily did when he came home from school. But she carried it off convincingly enough as she told him where their parents had gone and that they'd be alone for the rest of the day.
"I'm glad you're home, though," she concluded. "I'd like to take a bath and didn't want to take one all alone in the house. But now that you're home ..."
"What the dickens you taking a bath in the afternoon for?" Ben asked.
"Girls like to feel clean," she told him. "When did you last have a bath?"
"This morning. Mom made me take one before I went to school."
"Well, I didn't have one and I want one now." She turned her back to him. "Unzip the back of my dress."
He did as she asked, and she allowed the dress to slide down a little way, baring her shoulders and back to him. She turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. She could see by his expression it had served her purpose. He'd never be satisfied with seeing only that much of her bare flesh.
"I'll start getting dinner ready right after my bath," she said as she walked away from him and started up the stairs, allowing the top of the dress to gradually and tantalizingly slide down farther and farther until her back was almost completely bared to him. She paused at the top of the stairs to turn and look down at him, momentarily giving him a brief flash of the tittie flesh bulging over the top of her bra.
"If you want milk or anything," she quipped, with a carefully concealed smile, "you know where to find it."
Then she continued to the bathroom. When she got inside, she left the door open just a crack, wide enough for him to look in. She waited and listened. Sure enough, just as she had figured and hoped, he was coming up the stairs, very stealthily.
The tingling sensation in her virginal loins was so acute, she had to clench her thighs tightly together. She waited until she heard him just outside the door. Then, giving no hint that she even knew he was there, she stood in the center of the tile floor and worked her dress down over her hips and let it fall into a wrinkled pool around her ankles. She stepped out of the dress and bent forward to pick it up, making sure that her brother got a full view of her voluptuous young tits that almost tumbled out of her bra cups. She could just imagine his cock stretching out and starting to throb, the way she'd seen it do several times when she did something provocative to excite him.
She posed there a moment before the full-length wall mirror, in only her long, black hair falling in soft swirls below her shoulders. She gave him ample time to feast his eyes on her prematurely developed body, her long, lovely, milk-white legs.
Her bare feet were small and pale as a pair of doves, while through the sheen of her nylon panties, her asscheeks were well-defined yet still delightfully girlish. At the edge of her panties on each side of her slit, her pubic hair curled out, black and crisp.
Reaching up behind her, she unfastened the snaps at the back of her bra and let it slide down her arms. She could hear his uncontrolled breathing as she turned to face him. Still giving no evidence that she knew he was watching, Ella playfully cupped her breasts in her hands.
Though not yet fully developed, they certainly were big enough. Taut, white and blue-veined, they were capped with big, succulent, bright-pink nipples just right for munching.
Still cupping her boobs, she moved closer to the mirror, giggling and making suggestive shapes with her mouth, trying to look as sexy as she could. She pressed her hardened pink nipples against the mirrored duplicates, gently rubbing them back and forth over the smooth surface. Her long hair swirled freely over her naked, white, round shoulders like a shower of jet-black ink.
Finally Ella backed away from the mirror and, pulling the dressing stool close, lifted one leg and placed her foot on it so that her right knee turned out and away from her pussy. She knew that she was affording her brother a much better view of her black pubic hair that crept out from under her panties.
She could hear his breathing more audibly now from the other side of the door. She quickly stripped off her panties, tossed them onto the floor and replaced her foot on the stool, showing him the heavy black pelt, rich and luxurious, that grew between her legs. She wound her fingers into this rich nest, careful to avoid looking at the door that kept opening wider and wider, very slowly.
Very carefully, with tapered forefingers, Ella opened the tiny lips of her cunt that nestled in the center of her black bush, giving Ben his first glimpse of the glowing pink, glistening wet vestibule of her vulva.
The instant she heard his gasp, she decided she'd played her little game long enough. Bringing her foot down to the floor, she stepped quickly to the door and flung it open.
Ben stood there, chalk-faced, mouth open, eyes wide with sudden fright. Ella feigned shocked surprise and let out a shriek.
Ben shivered in an ecstasy of fear as he saw the strange, twisted expression on his sister's delicate features, her violet eyes blazing with a dangerous light. He turned on his heels and began to run through the long hallway.
Ella grabbed a towel from the rack, but without stopping to wrap it around herself, chased after him. Ben ducked into his own room and tried to slam the door closed. But Ella blocked it and pushed her way into the room.
"You devil," she pretended severely. "You little devil, you were watching me undress."
"I didn't mean to," he cried out and tried to scoot around to the far side of the bed.
"But you did!" she pointed out and went after him. She caught up with him and being older and bigger and much stronger than he, she easily wrestled him down onto the floor.
She pinioned him there on his back and knelt astride him with her exposed crotch just above his face. "You saw me," she said, trying to control her own excitement. "Now I'm going to look at you."
"No!"
She paid no attention but slowly unzipped his fly, reached inside and brought out his boyish penis.
"I'm gonna tell Mama when she comes home," he threatened as he squirmed and kicked his legs in the air, trying to get away from her.
"You do and I'll tell her you watched while I was undressing in the bathroom," she countered as she carefully inspected his rigid prick. Even though, at fourteen, it hadn't yet attained its full size, it certainly had grown considerably since those days when she helped her mother bathe him. It still had the same wrinkled foreskin covering its purplish-red head, and it still caused her the same excitement in her hot little pussy.
With the same care with which she had parted her delicate cuntlips, Ella, using only the tips of her fingers, peeled his foreskin back gently, until a part of the velvet like knob peeked out like the pinched end of a red balloon. Then she licked the palm of her right hand, grasped his cock just below the corona and began to masturbate him with deliberate slowness.
He continued to struggle for a few moments, then gradually his protests grew less and less as the sensation of having his prick flogged for the first time began to take hold.
Ella glanced down at him over her shoulder. "Doesn't that feel good?"
"Umm," was all he could manage as he stared up at her open cunt just above his face.
"You smell funny," he muttered.
She put her nose to the tip of his cock. "You're not lily of the valley yourself." Her hand began moving faster and faster. "I'm going to see if I can make you come."
He didn't argue. The feeling she was bringing him was too beautiful, as his own hands began to move.
She could feel first one hand, then the other creeping up the insides of her widespread thighs as she continued to straddle him. Now his fingers were probing her cunt curiously, venturing cautiously inside. The sensation made her pause a moment and moan.
"Up front," she murmured. "No...the other way. There's a little nut-shaped mound. Ooh...you found it! Oh, right there! Tickle, but with just your fingertips. Softer. Ooh, like that. Oh, Ben, just like that!"
She resumed pumping on his prick again, faster, until fist and cock became a blur. She felt her first orgasm catching hold. She rode the waves of it tightly, her hand never missing a stroke as the sensation of her climax raged through her. She heard him squeal.
"Oh, Ella, I feel all funny!" he cried out. "Something...something's gonna happen!"
And something did happen.
His cock swelled up and began to thump. When he began to ejaculate, Ella drew all the foreskin all the way back and held him that way, directing the spurts of cum straight up, so that they fell back into the bath towel she'd placed across his belly.
Even before his cock stopped its coughing, Ella pressed down on him so that her wet, girlish cunt massaged his face. Ben started to object. But she filled his mouth with the hot juice and soft, warm flesh of her cunt, inviting his tongue to lash out at her clit and bring her a second mind-joggling orgasm.
It wasn't long afterward that their parents left them alone again. At least Ben thought they were going to be alone, until he returned home from school to find that Ella had brought along a girl friend. Her name was Tina, and she was closer to Ben's age than to Ella's. In fact, Ella found out that Tina had a mad crush on Ben, which fit very nicely into Ella's plans.
Tina was a natural blonde, very pretty. Unfortunately, Tina's body had not developed at the same rate as her sexual appetite. At fourteen, her breasts were little more than mere bumps and her mons had barely begun to sprout a blonde fuzz.
Ella told Ben that she'd brought Tina home to help her with her school work, which seemed reasonable to Ben since the blonde girl was not the brightest student at school. However, Ben hadn't been home very long before he found out that Ella had brought Tina home for an entirely different purpose.
It was never clearly brought out in any of Ella's or Ben's reminiscences how it happened. But it didn't take long before the three of them were naked and inspecting each other's genitals. What Ben claimed amazed him most of all was that Tina was such a willing participant. Until he found out that she had an older cousin who had been screwing her since she was twelve.
Ben saw further method in Ella's planning. From that first day when she masturbated him, he'd coaxed Ella to let him do it to her the real way. She admitted that she wanted it that way, too. But she told him she was afraid. Even if he pulled out of her at the last minute, she said she'd heard they'd be taking a chance of her being caught. Since they were brother and sister, the results could be tragic.
The solution: Tina had brought along several condoms that she got from her cousin.
The three of them got in bed and Ben sprawled out on his back, his cock standing up rigid as an asparagus stalk. Tina let Ben kiss her tiny titties and finger her surprisingly large pussy. Then she took the rubber sheath and with fingers that were incredibly light and knowledgeable, she fitted it over Ben's hard-on. After it was on, she assumed the above position and, with Ella holding his cock up straight as if it were a stake that Tina was going to drive home with her cunt, the blonde girl lowered herself to him. He slid into her as easily as a hot knife going through a brick of lard, all the way, right to his balls. Then she began to batter his belly with her own, up and down, up and down like monkey on a greased pole-until his balls exploded and shot a volley of scalding cum into the condom inside her spasming cunt.
Ella just sat there in frustration as she watched Tina dismount, peel the sheath off Ben's cock, tie a knot in the condom and place it aside. It looked as if Ella's so carefully laid plan had backfired. But Tina, the far more experienced of the trio despite her age, had another surprise in store.
"This is how I get my cousin hard again when we want it a second time," she said, and without the least hesitation or self-consciousness she took hold of Ben's shriveled cock down near his nuts and lifted it to her lips. She licked it clean, even to digging her tongue under the foreskin. Then she placed her golden hand on his right thigh and with his cock in her mouth, she began sucking.
Maybe it was because he was so young, but in no time at all his cock began swelling out, more and more, until it was back to full size. Then Tina fitted another condom over it, and he was ready to go again with Ella. Only this time Ella laid down and he got on top, and while Tina fingered his asshole and joggled his balls, he brought his nymphomaniac sister the satisfaction she craved with her first honest-to-gosh fuck.
After that, according to the things that Sugar overheard them say in their drunken passion, nature simply took its normal course. They screwed, masturbated, performed cunnilingus and fellatio as a regular part of their incestuous relationship. Where Tina might have fit into their plans was an unanswered question, because shortly after she helped them perform their first fuck, her family moved away and took her with them. But there were others, many others to take her place-girls for Ben, men for Ella. Still, they remained each other's favorite bed partner.
From what Sugar heard Ben say, he wasn't too happy when Ella married Frank Kane. In fact, he stayed away from the Kane household for more than a year, until after Sugar was born. Only then did he begin visiting the family again, taking care of his sister's sexual needs when her husband was out of town.
One thing her mother and her uncle never talked about was whether Sugar's father ever knew of their sexual affinity. But as Sugar remembered it, Uncle Ben packed his bags very hurriedly one day about five years ago and made fast tracks out of the city. He never showed his moon face again, not even during the divorce proceedings, until the night when Sugar opened the door and saw him standing in the corridor.
As much as it sickened Sugar to know all these things, she never mentioned a word about them to either her mother or her Uncle Ben. Not only because she knew it would do no good, but mainly because she had such a short time to wait until graduation from high school. Then, following the short business course she was planning, she could get herself a decent, full-time job that would enable her to move out and get a place of her own, so she could launch a brand-new life for herself. Meantime, she'd simply have to close her eyes and ears and hopefully her mind to what was going on around her and try to pretend she knew nothing about it.
It wasn't easy. But Sugar managed to endure the sordid situation at home, until the night before graduation, when she would go to a dance at one of the local fraternity houses with Yale Ordway.
Because of what she'd seen of the male of the species in her own home-from her father to her uncle to the men her mother entertained-Sugar had been doubly careful of her own relationship with the opposite sex. Not that she didn't go out with boys on occasions. She did, but always she made damn sure it remained on a purely platonic basis, which most of the time wasn't as easy as it might sound, particularly in view of the reputation her mother had earned for herself during the divorce trial, a reputation that most of the people in town seemed reluctant to forget.
Only toward Yale Ordway did Sugar feel differently, possibly because her only relationship with him had been from a distance, since she had only been a sophomore at Beverly Hills High School at the time he was graduating. Until he met her a couple of days ago, during a brief visit by him to campus, and out of the clear blue asked her to go to the dance with him, they'd never spoken to each other. But that hadn't kept her from having a mild crush on him, which in itself was not unusual. Up until the time he graduated and went east to the big, important university that his parents had selected for him, there were few girls on campus who didn't get wet pants just thinking about him. Because Yale Ordway had an awful lot of things going for him.
Not only was he a big, good-looking hunk of male with shoulders that were big even without the shoulder pads he wore while starring at quarterback for the high-school varsity, but he had been valedictorian of his graduating class and held down no small reputation as the Don Juan on campus. As if that wasn't enough-his family was loaded!
His old man owned De Moiselle Boutique, one of Beverly Hills' foremost ladies' shop for exclusive, designer fashions. A woman couldn't even begin to open a charge account in the place unless she could flash a bank balance of five figures or more.
Understandably, Sugar was overwhelmed when, after he was home from college only a few days, Yale chose her out of all the girls in town to go to the dance with him. Understandably, too, she was excited beyond words when she got ready that night for her first date with him. She stayed in the John in the apartment for almost an hour, bathing, arranging her long, chestnut hair, dousing herself with perfume that she'd drawn five dollars out of her meager savings account to buy.
"What the hell're you doing in there?" her mother finally demanded as she banged on the bathroom door. "Don't you think anybody else wants to get in there?"
"Be right out, Mother," Sugar called out, then hurriedly put on the brand-new, flesh-colored bra and panties set that she got as a Christmas gift and had been saving to wear for graduation. But she decided to put it on tonight for this all-important date with Yale and wear it again tomorrow night for commencement exercises.
After slipping her feet into her sandals, Sugar took a final look at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. The way the soft flesh of her breasts overflowed the top of the bra and the transparent panties clung to her crotch, Sugar knew now she should have exchanged them for a larger size. She hadn't realized she'd developed that much in just six months. If her tits grew much more, they'd be even bigger than her mother's. But there was little she could do about it at this late date. She'd be meeting Yale in less than half an hour and she had to finish dressing. So she opened the door and stepped into the adjoining bedroom, where she found her mother in a silk Mandarin shortie kimono that showed her still-gorgeous, bare gams, waiting for her.
"Well, will you look at the Princess!" her mother exclaimed, eyeing her head to foot. "You must be looking forward to a really big night."
"I told you, Mother, I'm going to a dance," Sugar reminded her.
Her mother smiled wisely. "You look like you're going to do a hell of a lot more than dance in that costume. I want your uncle to see you."
"Mother-no!" Sugar cried resentfully. "Wait'll I put my dress on."
She started to go past her mother, toward the closet where her dress was hanging. But her mother caught her wrist and called out, "Ben!"
"Mother-I'm not dressed," Sugar begged indignantly.
"You had less on the night your uncle first came home," Ella reminded her. "Ben-come in here!"
Uncle Ben already was on his way. A moment later he appeared in the doorway, his mouth open, eyes bugging out of his moon face. "Christ!"
"Isn't she something?" Ella asked her brother.
"Jeez-is she ever!" he gasped.
Sugar couldn't help but follow her mother's eyes to the protrusion in the right leg of Uncle Ben's trousers. The way the material stuck out, it looked as if he had a twelve-inch ruler underneath.
"Your uncle is really impressed," her mother declared with a smile.
"I ... I think you're both terrible!" Sugar retorted, on the verge of tears in her embarrassment as she broke the grip her mother had on her wrist and hurried toward the closet.
"Oh, for Christ's sake," her mother remonstrated. "He's only your uncle."
"Not only that," Uncle Ben tacked on, suddenly sounding more like a father. "It's about time you started growing up. You want to take your damned cherry to the grave with you?"
Sugar was forced to bite her lips to keep from crying out, her belly churning with sick humiliation and disgust. To think that her own mother would stand by and let him talk to her that way, even appear to be amused by it. It might have been excusable if her mother had been drunk. But for a change, neither she nor Uncle Ben were. They had to go to work in a little while so all they'd had were a couple of belts with their dinner.
Sugar shrank into the semidarkness of the deep walk-in closet and heard them laugh as they left the bedroom. She took a firm hold on her emotions, selected the dress she was planning to wear and pulled it on over her head.
She made sure they were back in the living room before she emerged from the closet. Reaching behind herself, she pulled up the zipper at the back of the dress, then stepped to the vanity to see how she looked in the mirror.
The dress she had on was a simple sheath of white cotton pique with all-over "nailhead" flocking, corded braid, scalloped collar and button-trimmed bodice. It was neat but right "off the rack" inexpensive. Unfortunately, it was the best Sugar could afford, since, like the perfume and white heels she was wearing, it came out of her savings.
Like the bra and panties, she'd been saving it to wear tomorrow night at the graduation dance. But again, going out with Yale Ordway was of equal importance, so she had decided to wear it on both occasions.
It was almost eight by the time Sugar had finished dressing. Then, with a final appraisal of herself in the mirror and a daub of rouge on her lips, she was ready to meet Yale, who would be waiting for her outside in his car.
"Oh boy!" Uncle Ben exclaimed, ogling Sugar as she came into the living room. "I sure wish you were my date for tonight."
"Uncle Ben's right," her mother agreed. "You look very pretty."
"Thank you," was Sugar's response.
"Who is this Joe you're going out with tonight?" Uncle Ben asked, with uncharacteristic concern.
"You wouldn't know him," Sugar replied. It wasn't that she was necessarily ashamed of her mother and Uncle Ben, but she knew that Yale Ordway came from an entirely different kind of a family, pillars of society, highly respected. She was deathly afraid that if she had asked him to meet her mother and uncle, they might say the wrong thing and drive him away. For all the world, she didn't want that to happen. Even if she never went out with Yale again in her life, she wanted this one night to remember.
Uncle Ben turned to his sister as if suddenly duty-stricken. "You gonna let a kid like her go out with some character you don't know nothing about?"
"A little while ago, you told me to grow up," Sugar reminded him as she started across the living room toward the front door, clutching her white purse and white lace gloves.
"You mean, you're gonna let her go, just like that?" Uncle Ben demanded of his sister indignantly. Obviously he was much less concerned about Sugar's welfare than about the possibility of somebody getting into her instead of him.
In answer to her brother's question, Ella shrugged narrow shoulders under her silk kimono and declared, "Like she said, Ben, she's no kid. She'll be eighteen her next birthday. And long before I was eighteen ..."
Sugar didn't wait for her mother to continue. With a brief good-bye, she opened the door and went out.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sugar found Yale waiting for her in his MG about halfway down the block from the apartment house, where he said he'd be. She couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement when she saw him get out of the car and come forward to meet her with a corsage of red roses.
He took hold of her shoulders, appraised her a moment with a slight frown, then gave her a polite kiss. It was the first time that Sugar could ever remember that she wouldn't have minded if he had put his arms around her and given her a real kiss. Instead, he took her arm and helped her into the car. Then he slid in beside her and got the car rolling, heading eastward along Wilshire Boulevard.
They talked in generalities as they drove through the canyon of high-rise apartments that flanked the busy thoroughfare. Mainly they discussed how he liked the eastern college he had been attending, to which he would be returning in the fall. This would be his last year playing football with the varsity, he told Sugar, and hoped that he'd be picked up by the pros, even though his father was looking forward to him coming back to L. A. and joining him in the business after graduation.
It wasn't until they had passed the Los Angeles Country Club that sprawled away on both sides of the boulevard that Sugar glanced out through the side window. She saw that instead of turning south in the direction of the frat house, where the dance was being held, across from the high school, Yale made a left into Santa Monica Boulevard with its mile or more of colorful, tree-lined gardens.
"Where are we going?" Sugar asked, more with curiosity than alarm.
"I'd like to stop off at the boutique for a few minutes. Mind?" he asked.
"Of course not," she replied agreeably. She figured he probably had some business to attend to for his father at the shop. Besides, it didn't really matter to her one way or the other how soon they got to the dance. The important thing was, she was with him. Which might not hold true once they got to the dance. Not with all the pretty girls who would be there.
Girls from his own set, from affluent families. Girls who probably not only spent most of the afternoon in beauty shops, preparing for tonight, but who wouldn't be wearing budget dresses that came off the rack from a discount house. They'd have on gowns that came from some of Beverly Hills' and Westwood's better shops, maybe even from the De Moiselle Boutique. Gowns they wouldn't have to wear again for tomorrow night's graduation dance.
Another reason why Sugar was in no big rush to get to the dance was because Julie Ordway would be there. Julie was Yale's sister, the same age as Sugar. They were both in the same class at high school and both would graduate tomorrow night. But that was the sum total of what the two girls had in common.
Besides being a pom-pom girl and a member of one of the most exclusive sororities on campus, Julie had her own clique, made up of girls from families in the same social sphere as her own. Anyone like Sugar, who wasn't in this select group, was looked down upon, ignored as if they didn't even exist. In fact, if it hadn't been for Sugar's father being mixed up in local politics when she started going to high school, she wouldn't even be attending there now.
Sugar was well aware that when Yale walked into the frat house with her on his arm, his sister would be sure to blow her pretty blonde top. Sugar was not exactly looking forward to the kind of a scene she was sure Julie would make, even though being with Yale might be worth it.
Yale made a right turn at Beverly Drive, a few blocks further on, made a couple more sharp turns and finally brought the car to a halt in the narrow alley that ran behind his father's boutique. Except for a dim nightlight over the big metal rear door, the alley was dark. Yale killed the ignition and the lights, then turned to Sugar on the front seat and asked, "You ever been inside the boutique?"
She looked at him archly in the semidarkness. "You've got to be kidding. The closest I ever got to it was standing on the sidewalk and peeking inside when the door was opened for some preferred customer."
He smiled. "Like a personally conducted tour?"
She could feel her heart begin to beat excitedly. "But the shop is closed."
"One advantage of being the owner's son, I have a key that'll open it up," he told her.
Sugar waited, expecting him to get out of the car and show her to the back door. Instead, she was surprised when his right arm snaked around the back of the seat behind her and he pulled her close to him.
She began to feel a flutter of excitement as she saw his face drawing closer to her own. The next moment he was kissing her, holding her tight in his arms as he coaxed apart her lips so that his tongue might explore her mouth.
Other boys had tried to kiss her that way, make her accept their tongue. But she had always fought against it, discouraged it, refusing to allow herself to become aroused. But now she welcomed the hot moisture of Yale's mouth and tongue, daring to touch it with her own tongue as she felt her loins grow warm with a slow and suffusing pleasure.
His hand touched her quivering breasts, and she made a token gesture to push it away. But it was obvious he was not going to be so easily discouraged. He cupped and massaged her tits, fingering the hardened points so clearly outlined through the flimsy material of her dress and bra, until her whole body began to tingle. Under his accomplished artistry, she could feel her pussy growing wet, soiling those nice new panties she would have to wear again tomorrow night at graduation.
He looked down at her. "Anybody ever tell you, you're very lovely and have a beautiful body?" he murmured. Then before she could answer he kissed her again.
Her arms went up and around him instinctively, fingers stroking the curly blond hair that he wore long in back, as he continued to jiggle her breasts, testing and arousing them until she thought they were going to burst. The force of his kiss increased, drawing her deeper and deeper under its spell. She did not feel his hand at her thighs until it was too late to clench them together protectively. She closed her eyes and moaned, her tongue brazenly slithering into his mouth as his fingertips made the first delicate caress on her gossamer panties.
It was the first time anyone had ever touched her down there, and she could feel the finesse of his contact rapidly draining her of her strength. She writhed and struggled and finally managed to find the strength to push his hand from between her legs and move away from him across the front seat.
She was afraid. It was the very first time in her life she had ever allowed herself to completely lose control of her emotions. The first time she had even come close to doing the one thing she had fought against for seventeen years.
Could this be the reason he had asked her to go to the dance with him, then brought her here instead? Had he listened to all those sordid tales about her mother and figured she'd be a pushover, too? If so, he was mistaken. As pleasant as going all the way with him might be, she was not about to give into him all that easily. For seventeen years she had promised herself that she would save herself for the right man. Even though she might have nursed along a crush for him for three long years, she was determined not to let it happen like this. He was going to have to promise a great deal more than a mere tour of his father's boutique for her to surrender to him.
One thing Sugar had never done was lie to herself. Even though, so far in her lifetime, she had never allowed herself to test the full extent of her passion, she knew it was there, seething just below the surface, knew how frighteningly intense it might be. As long as she could control it, she would be safe. But once she let herself go all the way, there would be no turning back. It was in her blood, inborn to be that way. Only her will power and her promise not to fall into the kind of life her mother had lived, but to work and study and make something of herself, had given her the strength to hold out this long.
"Shall. . . shall we go?" Sugar managed to get out with great effort.
He didn't press the issue. He just smiled faintly, moved away from her and opened the car door. They got out and walked through the dimly lighted alley to the rear door of the boutique. He opened it with his key, and they stepped into the darkness of the dress shop.
Yale waited until he had locked the door and made sure the blinds were closed, then he turned on the lights and led her through the shop. For her, as she walked beside him, it was like being in another world. Everything she had ever imagined about the place, was true-only much more wonderful!
It was a veritable fashion wonderland, where everything that any woman could possibly want was on display-from lingerie to footwear to accessories-every article of the very best quality. But it was the designer gowns and dresses and coats that took away Sugar's breath. On mannequins throughout the store were originals from every fashion center around the world.
Sugar would halt here and there before a model to stare in open-mouthed amazement at the fabulous gowns and ensembles they wore. Costly silks and satins and lames. It was beyond her comprehension how any woman possibly could have money enough to buy them, how any woman could fail to look anything but beautiful wearing them.
By his expression, Yale was more than pleased with her reaction. Obviously, her enthusiasm fit in very nicely with his plans for the remainder of the evening.
"There's a gown over here that I'd like you to try on," he said finally.
Sugar looked at him incredulously. "For real?"
"For real," he assured. Then he took her hand and led her to the bridal section. Here he showed her a white silk organza over silk taffeta with a lacy, see-through bodice and lantern sleeves. Sugar believed that it was the most beautiful creation she had ever seen.
"I'd like you to model it," Yale said. "It should be just your size."
"But it's a wedding gown," Sugar declared.
"That's right. I'd like to see how you look in it, wouldn't you?"
Sugar couldn't imagine why he would want to see her in a wedding gown. But she didn't offer any arguments. She was far too excited with the chance just to wear such a magnificent gown, even if only for a few seconds.
After draping the gown carefully over her arm, Yale hurried to get the accessories she'd need to go with it-white lace panties, a luxurious white satin garter belt with six garters, super-sheer opera-length hose and a pair of white spiked heels nearly five inches high. She asked him about a bra, but he told her that wearing a bra with a gown like this would be almost sacrilegious. Then he showed her into one of the dressing rooms.
Sugar had tried on dresses before in department stores and shops where all the dressing rooms had been either cramped cubicles or communal places that looked like barren barns. Not so the dressing rooms at De Moiselle Boutique.
Lavish wasn't the word for them. They were spacious rooms, each one decorously designed and handsomely furnished with dressing table, bench, mirrored walls, full-length, luxurious divan, soft, indirect lighting and everything that milady might need in the way of costly cosmetics and perfumes, of which the boutique carried a full line.
Yale helped her put the gown on a hanger; slippers, hosiery and lingerie she was going to put on a chair. But he made no attempt to leave.
"Well?" he asked after a few moments as he sat on the edge of the divan, looking at her exquisitely shaped legs and bountiful breasts accentuated by the snug bodice of her white pique dress.
She frowned. "You mean-change in front of you?"
He laughed affectedly. "Look, I was born and brought up in this business. I've watched women dress and undress since I was a kid. Old women, young women, fat ones, skinny ones. You name 'em, I've seen 'em. So you've got nothing to be afraid of."
It was strange, but for some unexplainable reason Sugar actually wasn't afraid of him. Shy, embarrassed maybe, but definitely not afraid.
She couldn't help but wonder if it was because she wanted so much to try on the gown, to have him as well as herself see how she looked in such a beautiful creation, that it chased all thought of fear from her mind. Or could it be that he had so many of the qualities that she had looked for in a man and that she had wanted to be alone with him, like this, for such a long time?
Suddenly, to her utter amazement, she found herself almost hoping that he would be the first to possess her, that he would be the one she would remember for the rest of her life-even though she knew full well that nothing could ever come of it, knew that his parents would never allow him to have any serious thoughts about a girl like her. Especially his mother, who walked around as if she had the prow of the Mayflower stuck up her bony ass.
"Well, how about it?" Yale wanted to know with gathering impatience as he continued to sit on the edge of the divan. "Don't tell me I'm going to have to put everything back without you even trying them on?"
She looked at him beseechingly. "Please don't. It's just that... well... I've never undressed in front of a man before. Maybe the next time-if there is a next time-I'll feel differently. But for right now-please let me change in here, alone."
He held her gaze for a long moment. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. But finally he got up from the divan and started toward the door. "Call me when you're ready," he said to her over his shoulder.
"Yale," she called after him; then, as he halted and turned to face her, she hurried to him. Her tummy bubbling with appreciation, she threw her arms around his neck and, reaching up on tiptoes, put her parted lips to his. "Thanks," she whispered against his open mouth as with her belly pressed to his, she felt his cock rise and stiffen out.
Strangely, she made no attempt to back away from him, or show in any way that she was shocked or offended by this blatant display of his emotions. In fact, she was surprised that for the first time in her life, she rather liked the feel of his throbbing hard-on through the material of his trousers and her thin dress. She could feel her pussy tingling and growing moist again. She didn't dare let herself get any more excited. She pulled back from him and let him go.
The moment she was alone, Sugar slid down the zipper at the back of her dress, worked it down over her hips and let it slide to the floor. She glanced at herself in the mirrors-at her jutting breasts all but overflowing her too-small, flesh-colored bra, at the shadow of her abundance of silky brown pubic hair through the sheen of her panties.
Reaching up behind, Sugar unhooked her bra and let it slide down her arms to the bench in front of the dressing table. She eyed her titties. Certainly they were big enough. Round and full and creamy white except for some faint red marks from the too-tight bra. Next she peeled off her panties, embarrassed to find how drenched they were with her juices. She placed the bra and panties with the rest of her things atop the bench, then she took another moment to pose nakedly before the battery of mirrored walls that surrounded her. She could see herself from every angle-blossoming young womanhood at its loveliest. But this was no time for an evaluation of her anatomy. Yale was waiting, and she certainly wouldn't want him to come in and see her like this.
First, she put on the white satin garter belt that Yale had selected for her. Then she fitted the sheer-sheer, full-fashioned hose to her long, superbly rounded legs and fastened the six garters to them. Next, she toed into the spike-heeled slippers, then paused for still another glimpse at herself in the bank of mirrors. The whiteness of her garter belt and the paleness of her naked flesh made her luxurious brown muff stand out in contrast. She had to admit that with her long, brown hair falling in a soft swirl over her left shoulder, almost hiding her left tit, she had never seen herself look more bewitchingly sexy.
CHAPTER FIVE
Taking her eyes from the mirrors for a moment, she bent forward to reach the white lace panties that Yale had placed on the chair for her. Suddenly she was aware of a sound and a movement behind her. She straightened at once and wheeled to face Yale, standing there before her, just inside the door.
She emitted a startled gasp, then realizing her near-nakedness, made an impossible attempt to cover her breasts and her bush both at the same time. She could feel the blush that began in her cheeks and spread over her entire body as his eyes feasted on her gleaming flesh.
"Please," she managed to choke out, her voice trembling. "Please go. You-you promised you wouldn't come in-until I called you."
"You took too long," he replied and took a step toward her.
"No, Yale-please no!" she begged him frantically as she kept backing away from him, unable to ignore the menacing bulge straining to get out of his trousers.
Finally the mirrored wall blocked her retreat and he closed in on her. Grabbing her wrists and pressing her back and ass against the chill of the glass wall, he held her arms outstretched at the sides so he could look down at her.
Sugar closed her eyes and began to shiver with fear and humiliation as he studied each part of her flawless anatomy. Her luscious, pink-nippled, thirty-eight-inch tits that stood out high and firm from her narrow-waisted, white body. Her luxurious brown pelt, that seemed even darker where it plunged into her cleft. Her long, lovely legs smooth as polished ivory, whiter than milk, above the tops of her hose.
"Jeez," he breathed with full appreciation. "No girl with a body like yours should keep it hidden away. You should want to share it with the whole world."
He pulled her close up against him. Through the fabric of his trousers she could feel the throbbing heat of his cock as it rested against her furry mound. She opened her eyes. She saw his face coming closer as it had in the car and again he kissed her. Only this time his tongue worked in and out of her mouth obscenely, as if preparing for what was to come.
She struggled against him but her efforts were feeble, the kiss, as it had before, sending a warmth through her limbs and body, starting a fresh flow of juices in her cunt. She was never quite sure how she got on the couch. She knew she didn't go there voluntarily. Yet there she was, sprawled out on her back on the leather cushions, with him hovering over her.
She tried to get up, but he was kissing again, filling her mouth with his breath and his tongue and she felt herself melting once more.
"Relax," he told her as he ran a hand over her silken brown hair and down to her gleaming white shoulder.
"Oh no. .. you mustn't!" she cried out feverishly, squirming, trying to escape the hand that was stroking her. She had been in situations before and always she had been able to cope with them. None had gotten quite so out of hand as this one. Never before had she allowed anyone to arouse her the way she was aroused now. Of course, she knew it had to happen sometime. Perhaps she had even looked forward to it. But never had she expected it to happen like this.
This was against all the rules she'd set up for herself. This would simply be an act of passion that would gain her nothing. Yet, as his fingers touched her quivering breasts and played with the hardened points, Sugar began to shiver and pant. She could feel her passion awakening like the dawn of a new day, and she knew that what was to follow was inevitable.
"Please," seemed all she could say as he used his tongue to tease and seduce her senses. She strained to push away from him, but it was weak, half-hearted almost. The fingers at her tits jiggled and teased, arousing her to a pitch that she had never known before. Then his lips began to move downward to kiss her throat, her shoulders and then her breasts, pulling a bloated nipple into his mouth to torment with his tongue.
Now she felt his hand sliding downward over her stomach to her flat, tense belly, mussing her abundant crop of pubic hair, flirting with the damp lips of her slit. All the while he kept suckling her nipples, first one, then the other, causing her panting to deepen as she writhed under his lips and his hand.
It lifted her when she felt his finger actually thread its way into the tight cylinder of her cunt. She thrashed about, crying, "Oh no, Yale! Don't! Please don't."
Obviously, by the sure way he went about it, he'd had plenty of experience at this sort of thing. He went right to the core of her sex, fingering her stiff, slippery, sensitive clitty.
The sensation he was bringing her was so new and overpowering that she ceased to resist him. A terrible and frightening helplessness, hopelessness, came over her. Eyes glazed, limbs drugged and unaware of what she was saying, she blurted out, "Oooh, Yale...my belly, it feels so funny. Down there between my legs...where your hand is. I feel all tense and crazy."
"That's how you're supposed to feel," he murmured against her tits.
Suddenly she grabbed his face into her two hands and brought it up to her mouth. Her lips ground into his, sucking, her tongue invading his mouth of its own accord as a paroxysm of lust racked her head to toe.
"Oh, darling," she whispered, running her fingers through his long, blond hair. "My darling, it's all happening too fast...I'm all mixed up."
Without words, he dropped his head to her tits again to munch a moment on the bright-pink nubs. Then, sliding off the couch and falling to his knees beside the divan, his lips began coursing back and forth across her flat, undulating belly, brushing through her crop of fur to let his tongue inch between the slightly parted lips of her vulva. The feminine scent and sweet taste of her cunt seemed to incite him further. Clutching her lust-bloated lips with his fingers, he pulled them further apart and began to slash away at the hypersensitive boil of her clit with the very tip of his tongue.
"Oh, God!" Sugar shouted and made a token gesture at pushing his face away. Always she had thought of oral copulation by either sex as something immoral and perverted. But the sensation he was bringing her as he investigated her wettening hole and sawed away with his tongue at her clitty was so overpowering that Sugar made no further attempt to stop him. She just lay there on her back on the couch, legs splayed widely, blubbering like an infant, delighting in the manipulations of his slashing, probing tongue. Only one thought chased through her whirling brain-after all these years, was it finally going to happen?
Seconds later it did. His tongue, lapping, strumming, caressing with a precise skill, brought Sugar the first orgasm of her young life. Grabbing his head in both hands and clamping her thighs against its sides, she lifted her ass off the divan as if trying to cram all of her cunt into his mouth, unable to make a sound while a volcano of ecstasy erupted in the depths of her belly.
When finally her climax receded, she opened her eyes slowly to see Yale standing beside the divan, unbuckling his belt, opening his fly.
Sugar locked her legs together and a small whimper escaped her lips as she watched him drop his trousers and shorts. Her senses whirled as she gazed fixedly at his cock, excited and intrigued by its bigness and the way it curled up rigidly from the clump of blond hair between his strong thighs. She couldn't begin to understand her feelings. She had always thought that her first sight of a male organ would frighten her. Instead, a hot stab of ecstasy shot up through her body as she unashamedly appraised its slimy, purple-red unsheathed dome, the fatness of its heavy, blue-veined trunk as it waved arrogantly before her.
It wasn't until he stripped off the rest of his clothes, pried apart her legs and started to get onto the couch between them, that fear roared back into her brain as she realized what he was about to do to her. She tried unsuccessfully to wriggle away from him.
"No...please no, Yale," she cried out in dread anticipation as he knelt on the couch between her legs. "No one ever ... I mean...I'm a ... a virgin."
Whether he didn't believe her, couldn't conceive that a girl with a mother like hers possibly could be cherry, he leaned forward. Supporting himself on his left forearm, he grasped his cock down near the base in his free hand and sank into her tense, quivering form. He guided his drooling cock toward her cunt. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and lurched backward as he swirled the head of his prick over her folds, still wet with his saliva and her own juices, concentrating on her clitoris. A moment later, she felt his swollen cockhead poised at her hole, ready to begin its cruel battering chore. She knew that further struggling, further pleading would be of no use. So she reconciled herself to her fate. It wasn't at all the way she wanted it to be, hoped it would be. But if she had to lose her precious virginity, she at least was glad it was going to be to him.
"Will...will it hurt?" she managed to choke out.
"Not if you relax and enjoy it," he told her. "Okay?"
"O-okay," she dragged out resignedly. There was no other answer she could give him.
"Ready?" he asked tensely.
"Kiss me first," she whispered as her arms went around his neck and she brought him down to her lips, sucking on his tongue as it slithered into her mouth.
The next moment she let out a gasp as she felt his cock moving into her virginal cunt with a slow, relentless pressure. Sugar bucked frantically and tried to escape from its searing kiss. But he grasped her hips forcefully and kept pushing his murderous cock into her, until she felt her hymen give way at the base. A brief, lancing pain brought a scream from her lips that caused Yale to freeze for a moment, his face a mask of shocked disbelief. Then she felt his hands slide beneath her butt, to find the leather cushion damp with blood.
He looked down at her in utter amazement. "You...you were cherry!"
"I told you," she sobbed piteously.
"I couldn't believe it," he told her, sounding almost apologetic, but making no attempt to pull his cock out of her. "I couldn't believe that a girl your age- I mean, with the way things are today-could possibly be a virgin. But now that I know, I'll be careful...extra careful."
Then he was pushing into her again, straining, and stretching the unyielding walls of her cunt with his fat cock. She took as much of his punishment as she could, then cried out, "Stop, Yale! Stop-please! You're too big! I can't take any more!"
"There's not much more to go," he breathed raggedly, consoling himself with the twisted truth that he wasn't too big, but she was too small. Still he knew the remarkable adaptability of the female body from past experience, and kept pushing deeper and deeper into her garroting tunnel. Until with a sort of sadistic joy, he bottomed, drawing a yelp of pain from Sugar.
"I told you we were almost there, darling," he whispered consolingly. "And we are. I'm all the way in."
Sugar wasn't sure why she felt pleased about it. Was it because she was glad that the hurt was over, or proud that she had accepted him? he lay still atop her for a moment, letting her adjust to his size and get used to the fact that his cock was inside her. Then he began to move slowly, cautiously, against her. For a brief time, her strangling muscles prevented him from establishing a steady rhythm. But then as their juices intermingled, her narrow cylinder relaxed and with it gradually all traces of pain faded to be replaced by a metamorphic rapture, the likes of which Sugar had never before experienced. More beautiful even than the sensations he had brought her with his tongue.
Gone was the last protest from her mind, and her body became alive with a need that startled her as she fell into his tempo.
"Beautiful," he panted, speeding the union. "Ooh...fuck with me, baby, fuck hard. Ooh, baby, you're super!"
Sugar moaned, no longer aware of, or even caring about what she was doing. She knew only that she was racing toward another climax. In her subconscious she remembered that day she came home from school and saw that strange man screwing her mother in the bedroom. She remembered how her mother's legs climbed up to wrap around the man's middle. Sugar embraced Yale the same way, locking her ankles behind the small of his back, arms clinging to him frantically, rubbing her tits against his chest, biting his neck and shoulders as he kept hammering against her.
Yale gasped aloud, seeking to match her sudden, wild burst of ardor. Then she heard him groan, felt the stiffness of his limbs and body, the alarming swelling of his throbbing meat deep inside her, and then the convulsive jerking of his cock as he began to boom round after round of white-hot cum into her belly. It was at this moment of almost unendurable sensation that her own orgasm took hold and sent her swirling away from reality into a world of mind-bending pleasure...
CHAPTER SIX
After Yale rolled off her, Sugar lay beside him on the couch, one of his arms draped lazily around her shoulders, fingers occasionally brushing her still-sensitive tits. With her head resting on his smooth, powerful chest, she could gaze down at his cock. It looked so pitifully harmless now, lying limp and shriveled against his right thigh. It was difficult to believe that this was the thing that had caused her defloration.
They lay there for long minutes of silence before Sugar could screw up courage enough to satisfy her curiosity and slide a hand down over his belly and touch his cock gingerly. She was amazed how flaccid it actually was.
"How...how long does it take to get hard again?" she ventured curiously.
"Anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour," he replied. "It all depends ..."
"On what?"
"The girl he's with," he said and rolled atop her again, rubbing his limp cock in her fur, kissing her, trying to work himself and her up. "Want it again-so much?"
She pushed up at him. "No!"
"You're lying," he teased, wedging a hand between her thighs and into her cunt, still filled with his semen. He began stroking her clit. It was highly sensitive and would have taken very little to turn her on again. But she managed to fight against it.
"I'd still like to try on the gown," she said. "Then will you come back here on the couch?" he exacted.
She met his gaze warmly. "If you want me to."
He moved aside and let her get up. It was strange. Now that he had screwed her, she felt no shame, standing naked before him. She couldn't help but wonder if she'd feel the same toward any man after it happened, or whether it was just Yale who could make her react this way.
"You'd better wash up before you try on the gown," he said as he got up off the couch. "If my old man ever found any blood stains or cunt juice on it, there'd be hell to pay."
She frowned at his choice of words but made no comment as she followed him to the door of the ladies' room. She was surprised to find that the John was as sumptuously equipped as the dressing rooms. There was even a shower and a bidet, with which she could thoroughly cleanse her vulva without wetting her hose. After she sprayed her body all over with a delicate, exotic perfume that she also found in the John, she rejoined Yale in the dressing room.
Sugar found out that during her absence, Yale had washed the blood from the leather cushion of the couch. But he hadn't bothered to put on any of his clothes and, as yet, the bone had not returned to his penis-which left her with mingled emotions. She was glad that he wouldn't try to make love to her until after she'd had a chance to try on the gown. But at the same time, her womanly pride was such that she didn't want to think she was so unattractive to him that he wasn't going to get hard again.
He handed her the white lace panties, watching the delicate pink lips of her cunt stretch as she lifted first one leg, then the other as she stepped into them. When the panties were fitted snugly to her crotch, Yale helped her into the white bridal gown, zipping it up the back for her.
She took a brief moment at the dressing table, repairing her makeup and running a comb through her long, shimmering brown hair. Then she turned for his appraisal. The fact that her pink nipples and areolas showed clearly through the peek-a-boo lace top didn't faze her at all. She struck a pose for him and asked, "You like, Mr. Ordway?"
His eyes widened as they swept over her, head to foot. "Terrific!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "I mean it. I've seen half a dozen or more women in that gown-some of them professional models-and I'll be damned if any one of them came even close to looking the way you do in it."
She took a step toward him and saw his cock lift its purplish head slightly. "You wouldn't fool a girl, would you?"
"Not you, I wouldn't." He grabbed her, pulled her close and kissed her. A kiss that took away her breath. She could feel his penis solidifying and tried to draw back from him.
"Darling," she reminded him as she glanced down at his prick that was starting to drool again. "You said not to get the gown stained."
He let her go.
Sugar posed another moment, vainly looking at her reflection in the wall of mirrors. The room seemed suddenly filled with a dozen or more images of herself, staring back at her, each one of them as dazzling as she. She could see as many likenesses of Yale, too, each with a spearlike cock that looked as if the tip of it had been dipped in fresh red paint.
She had heard that experiments had proven that some women could engage in intercourse with as many as twenty or more different men at a single session. Naughtily, she wondered if she could take care of all those erections of Yale's that were aimed at her in the mirrors.
She chased the thought at once, shocked that she could even entertain such an idea. Unless, of course, such thoughts had lain dormant inside her all these years and needed only this first taste of real sex to set them free. She reached a hand up behind her to open the zipper at the back of the gown and asked, sort of reluctantly, "Don't you think maybe we had better be getting to the dance?"
He stepped up behind her quickly and took over the task of opening the zipper, sliding it down below her waist. "You really want to go to the dance?"
She looked up at him over her shoulder. "Don't you?"
"Not particularly." He brushed the top of the gown off her right shoulder and sank his teeth gently into the soft, naked flesh of her shoulder where it was joined to her lovely white neck. His lips pulled hard.
Sugar was aware that she'd have a red mark there. The first hickey she'd ever known in her life. But she didn't care. She wouldn't mind if he put them all over her body. She'd wear them with pride, because he had put them there.
She could feel his semihard cock against the crease of her asscheeks as he pulled her back against him. Her cunt was starting to flood again. She could feel the warm stickiness between her thighs. She knew he must be starting to leak again, too, and she was worried about the gown.
"You'll get it all stained, darling," she whispered and rubbed her cheek against the top of his blond head as he continued to kiss her neck and ear and bared shoulder, turning her on all over again.
"We'll soon fix that," he said and worked the top of the gown off her other shoulder, then off her tits, then down over her hips so that it slid down her silk-encased legs to form a soft pool of white around her ankles. It took only an instant for him to bend forward, sweep up the dress and toss it carefully onto the chair so it wouldn't wrinkle. Then he turned her to face him, holding her close to him so that her spiked nipples were touching his smooth bare chest, his not yet fully hard cock flattened against her tummy.
"You're going to ruin these nice, new, lace panties," she pointed out to him. "Nobody else will ever be able to wear them."
"Nobody is going to have to wear them but you," Yale informed her.
She looked up at him incredulously. "You mean-they're mine?"
He nodded. "The whole works. The panties, garter belt, hose, slippers. Everything except the gown."
She kissed him appreciatively. Then curious, she asked, "Why did you want me to wear the bridal gown?"
He took his right hand from around her and ran it through his blond locks, sort of awkwardly. "Just a quirk. You'd think it was kind of goofy."
She reached up and took his face in her two hands so he'd have to meet her eyes. "Tell me, please. I want to know."
He shrugged uneasily. "Promise you won't think it's silly?"
"Promise."
The hand through his hair again. "Well, the other day when I came to school to pick up my sister and I saw you on campus, before I even knew who you were, you really bowled me over."
Sugar's knees began to weaken, and she got the funniest feeling in the pit of her stomach to think that he possibly could have felt the same way toward her that she felt toward him.
"I couldn't help but think what you must be like in bed," he confessed. "But I didn't want it to just be like it's been with everybody else. I wanted it to be different. I wanted it to be like it would if we were just married."
She moved close to him, both hands around his slim waist, head against his chest, so she could kiss one of his brown nipples.
"Then Julie told me who you were," Yale went on. "And I remembered all that talk about your mother when she and your old man were getting their divorce."
Sugar tightened a little.
"I knew my mother and father would never consent to me even going with you, let alone ever think about getting married," he admitted with brutal frankness. "I knew it would be at least a year or more before I'd be able to do a damn thing without their consent-especially if they cut me off without any money. I couldn't wait that long. I wanted you. So I figured out if I could get you to come here, have you put on the bridal gown-maybe I could get the feeling that you were my bride, that maybe you could feel that way, too." With one arm around her, hand down inside her panties holding her butt, he cupped her face in the other and held it up so he could kiss her. "I had good intentions. Damn good intentions. But when I saw you in only that garter belt and stockings-Jeez! A guy'd have to be queer, or impotent, or past the age to be able to hold out! But that doesn't mean I've changed my feelings about you. If anything, I want you to belong to me even more."
Sugar didn't even want to think that he might be just making up a story, feeding her the same line that he might have fed to every other girl he wanted to make.
"This is only the beginning, darling," he went on as he ran his tongue lightly over her lips. "I want to be with you every day of my vacation, for as long as I'm home. For a start, I want to take you to the graduation dance tomorrow night. Okay?"
"More than okay," she told him and kissed him as she felt him pull down her desire-drenched panties, grasp her bare buttcheeks in both hands and rub his cock in the rich fur that covered her mons, trying to arouse it to full size.
"I want you to be the most beautiful girl at the dance tomorrow night," he told her. "I want you to pick out any gown in the shop you want to wear."
"Any gown?" she echoed excitedly.
He wagged his head.
"The one I was just wearing," she said.
He frowned and drew back from her slightly. "But that's a wedding gown."
She smiled. "That's just it, darling. A graduation gown is like a wedding gown. You only get to wear it once."
His frown deepened. "Gosh, Sugar, I don't know. That's a designer's model. An exclusive. It came from Paris and hasn't been in the boutique even a week. Holy cow, my old man would know it was missing the minute he started taking inventory."
"He won't take inventory until after tomorrow night, will he?"
"No, but-"
"By that time we can have the gown back here, darling, and your father will never know the difference."
He kept looking down at her, puzzled. "But there's a whole shop full of gowns-why this one?"
She met his gaze unblinkingly. "Because it has special significance, darling. You picked it out for me, even helped me put it on. No gown in the whole world could possibly mean so much to me." Then she added beseechingly, "Please?"
He rubbed his strong jaw with his hand. "Let me think about it," he said, then with his arm around her waist he led her to the divan. "Lie down first, darling."
She hesitated beside the couch to look down at his cock. It was almost full size again.
"I don't know whether I can, Yale," she said reluctantly.
He frowned darkly. "You don't want to?"
Her arms went around him and she hugged against him tightly. "Oh, but I do, darling. I do. But it was the first time-and I'm still very tender down there."
He looked at her for a moment, calculatingly, then his eyes went to the wedding gown draped carefully over the back of the chair. "That gown really means so much to you?"
"Yes, it does."
"And you really want to wear it tomorrow night?"
"Very much."
He kissed her mouth, then moved his mouth down to kiss her nipples. "How much?" he exacted. "Enough to ... to do it another way?"
She felt her scalp tighten a little. "What other way?"
He straightened away from her, outlined her lips with his index finger and said "With this - your mouth"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sugar shrank back away from Yale a couple of steps, her eyes searching his face to see if he were joking about her performing fellatio on him. He was not. She swallowed and with repugnance said, "But... but it's dirty ..."
He smiled. "That's what people said twenty years ago. But kissing a man's cock is a lot more sanitary than kissing him on the mouth. According to surveys, today seventy to eighty percent of Americans practice it. Which means that the only thing wrong with it, is thinking it's wrong." As he spoke, he sat on the edge of the divan, grasped her hips and brought her forward. He began kissing her belly and thighs, nuzzling his face into her sweet-smelling pubic hair, letting his tongue creep into the uppermost opening of her vulva, seeking out the tiny, pealike organ that was the core to her womanhood. After a few lashes of her clit, just enough to excite her all over again, he lifted his mouth from her cunt long enough to ask, "It isn't so hard to take, is it? In fact, it feels pretty damn good, doesn't it?"
Begrudgingly, she had to admit it did as her legs opened involuntarily to admit his face, her pussylips parting under the gentle stroking of his tongue. She was so sensitive down there that it seemed only a matter of seconds before she felt another orgasm taking hold. Enraptured, she grabbed the back of his head and kept his face imprisoned between her suffocating thighs until she had ridden her climax through to completion.
When finally she let go of him and he drew back from her, his lips wet with her juices, he looked up at her and said, "Now you, darling?"
She watched him as he brought his feet up onto the couch and sprawled out on his back, his cock standing up rigidly from out of the nest of curly blond hair that covered his groin. Thoughts bombarded her brain as her gaze shifted from him to the bridal gown, then back to his rampant prick. How important was the gown to her? Important enough to do what he asked? Could she overcome her own revulsion regarding fellatio? Could she actually take his cock into her mouth? Did she want the gown that much? Even more important, did she love him that much? Because to do such a thing, she was sure she would have to love him.
Without actually being aware of what she was doing, she sat on the edge of the divan beside him and turned so she could look down at his swollen cock, throbbing as if with anticipation. She remembered how pleasurable he had made her feel and wondered if doing it to him would make him feel the same way. If so, she could appreciate why he'd want her to suck his cock, and, in all sincerity, she wanted to bring him the same kind of thrill, please him as much as she possibly could.
Mustering some of the courage she'd shown immediately after he'd screwed her, she slipped her left hand hesitatingly between his thighs, cupped his balls and lifted them. Her right hand slid lightly over his belly through his blond bush to the base of his cock. She took it into her hand and squeezed it and watched a translucent drop of liquid form like a tiny pearl on the livid red tip.
She hadn't noticed before, but there was a slight upsweep to the head of his cock, like a saucy pig nose. She could feel the barely subsided passion she'd experienced while he'd tongued her beginning to flow again, as her face moved nearer and nearer to the throbbing head of his cock.
"You'll...you'll have to tell me what to do," she murmured.
He wagged his head as if afraid to talk, for fear it might break the enchantment of her butterfly fingers on his cock and balls.
Suddenly she became aware of his powerful male odor. "Will...will he taste bad?"
"I never sucked cock, darling," he replied. "But from what I hear, there's hardly any taste at all."
She moved her head still closer to him. If anyone had even suggested to her that she would ever suck a man's penis, she never would have believed it. Yet here she was now, about to take Yale's cock into her mouth.
"What do I do first?" she murmured.
"Lick the head a little, get the juice off," he said without any attempt at delicacy, holding his breath in delightful expectation. "Go all around it with your tongue."
Sugar took a deep breath, then bent her head forward and began licking his glans. She found that he was right; there was hardly any taste to it. A trifle salty perhaps, but that was all.
She heard his moan and felt his legs stiffen out as her fiery wet tongue stabbed and swabbed his ultrasensitive meat. Round and round the slimy tool her tongue went, over and under, pausing momentarily just beneath the corona, then following the urethral crease up to the very tip, where she pretended to try to wedge her tongue into the yawning piss-hole.
She swished back her long, brown hair that had fallen at both sides of her face, the ends of it wet with his dribblings. She looked at him over his belly. "Am I doing it right?"
"Perfect," he panted.
It made her feel good to know that she was pleasing him, surprised her to discover that it wasn't nearly as disagreeable as she had imagined it would be. As the last trace of repugnance left her and she began to feel hornier and hornier, she went about her work with greater enthusiasm. She made short, quick stabs at his cockhead with her tongue, delighting in the sounds he made and the way his thighs jumped. Then she wet the palm and fingers of her right hand in the juices leaking out of the meatus like an open hydrant, grasped him in her fist and began to stroke him, the way she remembered hearing her mother say she stroked her Uncle Ben that day she caught him watching her bathe.
"Oh-Jeez, no," he gasped. "Not that way...you'll make me come too fast."
"Isn't that what you want?"
"Yes...but not with your hand...with your mouth."
"You mean like this?" she said with a little chuckle as if an imp or a devil had suddenly possessed her. She let her hand slide down to the base of his cock and took the swollen knob in her mouth, closing her lips tightly around the stalk, just below the crown.
"Oh, Christ!" he groaned ecstatically as he lifted his ass off the couch cushions as if trying to jam all of his cock down her throat. "Don't bite...make sure you don't bite! Just brush it with your teeth as you go up and down. Ohh, like that! Irritate the underside with'em, let it rub against the roof of your mouth. Ohh, darling, keep your lips tight the way they are and suck...suck hard. Ooh, I can feel your tongue tickling all the way back to my asshole. Just keep sucking and don't let go. Pull, baby, pull hard ... get it all the way down your cock-sucking throat!"
Eyes half-closed, Sugar kept sucking voraciously, enjoying it far more than she ever could have imagined she would as her grasping lips slid up and down the length of his rock-hard cock. Glancing in the mirrors, she could see it disappear inside her mouth, puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk's with each downward thrust, then reappearing each time she came up on it. Until she suddenly pulled him off with a wet, obscene plop.
"Oh, Jeez," he moaned. "Don't stop ... not now! Whatever you do, don't stop!"
"I've got to, darling, he's so big," she breathed apologetically. "My jaws ache and I've got to catch my breath." Then, after a brief pause, she asked, "What do I do when ... when you start to ... you know ... ?"
"Come?"
"Yes."
"There's a box of tissues on the dressing table," he told her. "You can use some of those ... or you can let me finish in your mouth."
She met his gaze intently. "Which way is best? I mean, for you?"
"In your mouth, of course."
She nodded and reaffixed her mouth to his cock and began pumping up and down as before, watching his face for reaction. He didn't look as if he were going to be able to hold back for very long.
She felt his hands groping for her tits and shifted her body slightly so he could reach and fondle them, adding to his pleasure and her own. She began sucking harder, turning her mouth into a vacuum, pulling as much of his cock as she could down her gulping throat, her lips and teeth showing him no mercy.
"Ooh, use your tongue, too," he panted. "Each time I come out, swirl your tongue all over the head. Ooh, like that, baby...just like that."
She could feel Yale starting to pump with her, driving his cock in and out of her suctioning mouth as if it were a juicy cunt fucking him.
"Oh, Sugar baby...Oh, I'm going to come!" he gasped. "You sure...you want it. . . like this ... in your mouth?"
Her eyes almost maniacal with excitement and with his throbbing meat buried halfway down her throat, she could only nod expectantly. Cradling his balls in her hand, she squeezed them gently as she felt him grasp the sides of her head in both his hands to make sure she didn't get away.
It was the damndest sensation she'd ever known, as she felt his cock balloon in her overfilled mouth and throb madly, the sperm shooting up through his tube and shooting with a convulsive blast out of him into her mouth.
"Oh, suck and pull!" he yelled. "Suck like you never sucked before! Ooh, like that!"
Sugar could feel the thump of his cockhead against her palate, her gullet, her tongue as he pumped what seemed like quarts of his molten cum into her mouth, down her thirsty throat and into her belly to splash against her entrails. She kept sucking and swallowing, making no attempt to pull off him until she had drained him of every last drop and reduced his penis to limp, wrinkled flesh inside her mouth. Only then did she release him and fill her cramped lungs with air and crawl up on the couch beside him. Her lips still wet with his residue, she kissed him.
"That's what you taste like, darling," she whispered.
"Not bad," he said jokingly as he savored the flavor. Then he kissed her and held her tightly in his arms. "Do you know that you're the greatest?"
Her tummy tickled very pleasantly.
"Even more important-do you know I'm in love with you?" he tacked on.
Suddenly grown serious, Sugar put a finger lightly to his lips and said reprovingly, "Please, darling, don't ever tell me that-unless you mean it."
"But I do mean it," he insisted. "Furthermore, I never said it to any other girl in my life."
She smiled as she climbed atop him and, with her tits squashed against his chest and her fuzz-button pressed down hard against his lifeless prong, she unashamedly put her tongue into his mouth and left it there for a long time.
She wanted so much to believe him, wanted so very much to think that he really did love her. Because there was no question in her mind any longer that she was deeply, passionately in love with him. In fact, if she were asked to pick out the happiest moment she had ever known, she would have to say it was right now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was past three a.m. when Yale drove Sugar home and left her on the sidewalk in front of the apartment house-without them having gotten within shouting distance of the dance. They had spent every moment together on the divan in the dressing room back at the boutique, making idyllic love long after their sexual appetites had been satisfied.
After they kissed good night, Sugar rode a cloud up to the fifth-floor apartment she shared with her mother. Even though she had showered and rinsed out her mouth thoroughly before leaving the boutique, she could still feel her body tingling with the excitement Yale had caused her, taste the deliciously hot cock juice he had shot into her mouth.
As she inserted her key into the door, what delighted her most of all was that tonight she would see Yale again. Be with him right after the graduation exercises and dance and, as planned, they would go again to the boutique to return the gown that she borrowed-and, without question, make beautiful love to each other again.
Sugar was still riding her fleecy cloud when, with the box that contained her bridal gown and accessories tucked under her arm, she opened the door and slipped noiselessly into the apartment. She hoped that her mother and Uncle Ben were asleep, or better still that they hadn't got home from work yet. Then she wouldn't have to answer a lot of questions that they were sure to ask about the dance and what kind of a time she had. But as she closed the door quietly behind her, stepped into the living room and came around the couch, her cloud suddenly evaporated and she came crashing down heavily to earth.
Because there on the floor in front of the couch were her mother and Uncle Ben. They were both stark naked and, with her mother in the above position, were fucking away like a couple of rabbits in heat. So engrossed were they that they were completely oblivious to the fact that Sugar had even come in. A gin bottle peeking out from under the couch and another from beneath the easy chair across the room was evidence that they'd had far more than their usual quota.
Although she had been doing the same thing with Yale tonight, back at the boutique, there was no comparison between the two. What she did with Yale was beautiful, the fruits of two people passionately in love. What she saw now was cheap and ugly. Not only because they were disgustingly drunk and groveling about on the carpet, making animal sounds. But because it was corrupt and immoral, against the laws of nature and man for a brother and sister to carry on this way.
Trying to close her eyes to her mother's generously proportioned ass bouncing up and down against Uncle Ben's belly like a huge pink medicine ball, Sugar figured if she could get past them into the bedroom without them seeing her, she could close the door on them, even though it might be impossible to shut her mind on what they were doing.
Sugar held her breath and with great care and caution, attempted to skirt her mother and uncle. She tried, too, to keep out of their line of vision as she tiptoed toward the bedroom. But as she started to go past them, Uncle Ben popped open one eye. His hand shot out and grabbed Sugar's ankle.
Sugar emitted a gasp of surprise and tried to twist free from his grasp. "Please, Uncle Ben-let me go!"
He grinned and, maintaining his hold on her ankle, pulled her closer so that from his vantage point on the floor, he could look up her skirt and see her shapely bare thighs and crotch-hugging white panties.
"Please," Sugar kept pleading as she continued to struggle to break away.
Her mother stopped humping and sat there atop her brother's belly, her cavernous cunt swallowing his prick right down to the balls as she turned her head and looked up at Sugar, bleary-eyed. It was doubtful that Ella Kane in her inebriated condition recognized her daughter, or even knew who she was. What happened next bore out the truth of that statement.
"C'mon," Uncle Ben said to Sugar as he began tugging at her leg. "Get down here on the floor with us an' join the party."
"No!" Sugar cried, as she tried to pry his hand open with her fingers.
"She says, no," Uncle Ben said to his sister. "That's no way for a girl to talk to her uncle."
Ella nodded and blinked her eyes, dim-sightedly, obviously hearing only part of what he said. "That's no way to talk ... "
"Let's get her down on the floor," Uncle Ben proposed. "Go on, get up, grab her-help me."
In a drunken stupor, his sister pulled herself up off her brother's cock and started to get to her feet. Sugar was paralyzed by the sight of her uncle's tool, red and glistening wet with her mother's slimy juices, looking inches bigger than Yale's organ and that much fatter around.
A cold fear began crawling in the pit of Sugar's stomach as she felt her mother grab her from behind and with her uncle's help wrestle her to the floor. But not before she had a chance to toss the box with the wedding gown in it off to one side of the room.
Sugar let out a little cry and tried to fight desperately against them. But it was wasted effort. She was no match for the two of them. They easily pinioned her to her back on the floor and held her that way.
"Now for a long overdue look at them tits of yours," Uncle Ben said to Sugar as he reached behind her and began to tug at the zipper of the white pique dress she'd saved so long and hard to buy for herself. Halfway down, the zipper stuck and he burst it open, then continued pulling the dress down off her shoulders, ripping apart the seams.
"You're ruining my dress," Sugar cried out, kicking and scratching blindly as the hands continued to rip away at her clothing. Nothing she did in the way of resisting had any effect, as he worked the dress down around her hips.
His eyes raped the white flesh of her breasts, overflowing her bra. He snapped the straps with his fingers and pulled the bra down so he could dig her tits out of the cups. Her nipples were still bright pink, swollen and sensitive from Yale's suckling.
"Umm-nice," Uncle Ben murmured, smacking his lips. Then his mouth dove for her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, slobbering them with his saliva.
Hot tears sprang to Sugar's eyes as she sobbed her disgust for him and appealed to her mother to make him stop. But whatever maternal instincts Ella might have had, had been drowned in the alcohol she'd consumed. Whether or not Ella had any conception of what Sugar was saying, she at least had come around to recognizing who Sugar was, and kept chanting, "Your Uncle Ben's been awful good to us, helping us pay the rent and all. Now it's your turn to be good to him. You behave yourself, y'hear? You do like he wants you to."
Sugar kept crying, almost hysterically now, as Uncle Ben lifted his mouth off her tits and continued to tear away at her clothes. Until in an incredibly short time, she was squirming nakedly on the carpet with him, her mother holding her arms while she flailed out with both legs.
"Christ but she's stacked!" Uncle Ben declared as he stared down hot-eyed at her completely exposed anatomy, running his hands lightly over her quivering flesh. "She looks the way you did at seventeen. Only I think her tits are bigger."
His hand cupped one of her luscious globes and squeezed it as he would an overripe melon, causing Sugar to make a wild, hopeless lunge to try to get up.
"Hold her!" Uncle Ben barked at her mother. "I am," her mother said and tightened her grip on the girl.
Sugar saw Uncle Ben crawl across the floor to retrieve the bottle that was under the easy chair, his oversized whang swaying back and forth between his legs like an inflamed bludgeon. Certainly neither one of them needed more to drink, she thought. But she soon found out that was not his intention, as he came back to her with the bottle that was still half-filled with gin.
"You can't have any fun at the party until you have a drink," he said; then, as his sister held Sugar's arms, he cupped the girl's face and inserted the neck of the bottle into her mouth.
Sugar struggled desperately, trying to keep her lips shut tightly, but he pried them open and poured a liberal swallow into her mouth. She coughed and grimaced and spit it out.
"Goddamn it!" Uncle Ben rasped at her. "That's good gin. You drink it."
"You do like your uncle says," her mother scolded groggily.
He poured more of the colorless liquid into Sugar's mouth, then clamped a hand over it so she couldn't spit it out.
Sugar looked up at him, then at her mother piteously, above his hand. But it did no good. He insisted she swallow it. She shook her head, then paused for a second thought. She hated the taste of gin, of all liquor in fact. But maybe if she drank it, it would make it easy for her, dull her mind and her senses so she wouldn't be conscious of what she knew her uncle was determined to do to her.
She let the gin trickle slowly down her throat. It gagged her and made her cough again. But she finally managed to swallow all of it. Only that didn't satisfy Uncle Ben. He fed her another drink, then another. It had no immediate effect on her, except to warm her belly and pucker her mouth and gullet.
"You'd better sit on her chest and hold her down," she heard her uncle tell her mother. Immediately the older woman moved forward to straddle Sugar, facing away from it so that her meaty ass hovered just inches above Sugar's face. Sugar was appalled and closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at it. She knew it would do her no good to try to voice her feelings, let alone hold out any hope of getting away.
Sugar kept her eyes tightly closed. She couldn't have seen what Uncle Ben was doing anyway, since her mother's ass and body were blocking her view. Next thing she was aware of, was Uncle Ben pouring what she guessed was the gin over her tits, causing her nipples to rise sharply. Then she felt his tongue lapping up the gin. He repeated the act on her belly, licking her hips and thighs where the gin dribbled down.
Her worst fears were realized when a moment later he spread her legs wide apart, inserted the neck of the bottle between her pussylips and filled her cunt with as much of the gin as it could hold. The walls of her snatch and the torn membranes of her hymen were still raw from Yale's penetration. The gin smarted and burned, making her whimper and squirm. But not for long. His tongue working apart her cuntlips and slithering into the depths of the cavity soon salved and soothed away the sting. But that wasn't all it did.
Sugar had reconciled herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do to stop Uncle Ben from doing whatever he had planned for her. So she figured she may as well follow the line of least resistance and remain limp and docile and let him have his way with her. But she was determined not to cooperate in any way, or even think of what he might be doing. Certainly she wouldn't even begin to allow herself to be aroused by him. But as his tongue continued to probe her hole, licking and sucking her tickler, she soon discovered that a stiff clitoris, like a stiff cock, has no conscience or sense of discrimination.
She had hoped the gin might help her close her mind to what was happening. Instead it seemed to intensify her feelings to a new high, her hips moving involuntarily to the rhythm of his tongue, up and down, up and down. The awareness of her blossoming arousal made Sugar more disgusted with herself than she was with her uncle. How could she feel this way? Didn't her body know that he was an intruder, that she belonged to Yale?
She thought at that moment how very different, how very beautiful it had been back there in the boutique with Yale. That was love. Real true love. While this was nothing but ugly sex, born of passion. The same passion that two animals might engage in during season.
Yet she couldn't deny the stimulation that Uncle Ben was bringing her. She tried to tell herself that it was the gin that was making her heat up this way, making her no longer aware of what she was doing, or care who was doing it to her. She knew only that she couldn't hold back any longer. She wanted to come with every lash of his tongue. If she didn't find relief, her whole belly felt as if it would explode.
Sugar felt him cover her hole with his lips, ramming his tongue as far into her cunt as it would go, sucking, sucking hard all the while. His jaws showed his exertion as his tongue fucked her, in and out. Her mother adding to the pleasure by rubbing her hands over the girl's breasts and belly and thighs sensuously.
Sugar felt Uncle Ben seize her butt and lift her for better penetration. She moaned up into an orgasm, wishing she could free her arms so she could get at him with her hands and hold his head there, as she'd done with Yale, her hips pumping wildly up against his greedy mouth.
"Oh...I'm coming," Sugar moaned. The words just slipped out without conscious thought as the pleasure of her orgasm seized her completely and whether it was the gin coupled with the intensity of her climax, she blacked out. . .
When consciousness returned to her and she opened her eyes, she saw that Uncle Ben and her mother had done some shifting of positions. Her mother was still straddling her, but she had now turned to face her, so that the great mass of thick black pubic curls that covered her mons and rimmed her cunt were almost tickling Sugar's chin.
Uncle Ben was still down below, kneeling between her splayed thighs. But he had lifted her legs and was holding them so that they hugged his hips, the purplish knob of his mammoth cock aimed at her open, wet cunt.
At the first swipe of his glans over her sensitive pussy lips, horror gripped Sugar and she realized what they were going to do. They meant to force her to submit to both of them-at the same time.
Sugar looked up into her mother's face. But suddenly the woman kneeling astride her was not her mother. Sugar had seen her drunk before, more times than she could remember, but never had she been like this. Whatever Uncle Ben had done to her during the brief time that Sugar was unconscious, coupled with the gin she'd consumed, had turned the woman into a lascivious-eyed sex maniac, hungering for satisfaction.
Sugar caught her breath as she felt Uncle Ben inserting his enormous prick into her. She'd been right. He was bigger than Yale and even though she was well lubricated, she was tight.
She started to scream and beg him to stop, tell him that he was hurting her. But both the scream and the words were smothered as her mother's big, juicy, hair-rimmed cunt came down on her mouth. Only it still wasn't her mother. No mother would do such a thing to her own daughter. This was only her mother's body possessed by some depraved sex fiend.
Sugar could feel her uncle shoving into her with a vengeance and it hurt, even though her cunt was wet as a quagmire. But it didn't hurt for long. With his two hands on her asscheeks, he pulled her close to him until her soggy crotch was against his belly and there he held her, his cock shoved all the way to the limits of her quim, her cunt walls throbbing around it.
"Now," he called out to his sister. "Now, let her have it-both together."
She took his cue and began rubbing her wet, loose-lipped cunt against Sugar's mouth wildly. Maybe it was the gin, or the stimulation that Uncle Ben was bringing her, now that she had adjusted to his size, or the musky odor and suffocating heat of the sweating thighs between which her face was buried. Persons and relationships were suddenly lost to Sugar as, caught up in the sex circus, she began sucking hungrily, her tongue concentrating on the overdeveloped clit she held between her lips.
Sugar would remember this night, vividly, indelibly, for the rest of her life. Yet, ironically, at the moment she was completely oblivious to what she was doing, what was being done to her. Her mind was spinning, and it was as if she was in a world of froth where nothing was real or tangible. She was conscious only of taste and smell-and the sensations that filled her body, reaching a crescendo when in a matter of minutes she brought the stranger atop her to a quivering, screaming orgasm as her cunt moved wetly, almost violently on Sugar's face.
Almost simultaneously, Uncle Ben's time came and Sugar concentrated on the hot, almost torrid, spurts of sperm he shot into her cunt. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held there, freeing his hands so they could go to her tits and massage them ungently. Lost in a cloud of red lust, Sugar didn't mind the heaviness of his hands as she rubbed her clit frantically against the hairy base of his cock until her body quaked with a tumultuous orgasm...and for a second time the world exploded behind her eyelids and she dropped off into welcome unconsciousness...
CHAPTER NINE
Precisely what happened the rest of the night, Sugar was never really sure. Mercifully, the gin she'd been forced to consume had caught up with her and left her brain in a mad, unintelligible scramble.
She hadn't the vaguest conception as to how she got into bed. But that's where she found herself when she awoke well past noontime that same day. Only she was not alone. Uncle Ben was lying there beside her, snoring away and, like herself, without a stitch on.
So as not to awaken him, Sugar moved away from her uncle, slowly and carefully, and got off the bed. The insides of her thighs were sticky and caked with his drying cum. Her tits and belly felt the same way, as if he had smeared the stuff all over her body. She, of course, had no idea how many times he fucked her during the night. But it must have been a lot because her belly felt filled with his juice.
As she started toward the closet to get a robe to take into the bathroom with her, she found it necessary to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the table beside the bed and hold them to her pussy so his semen wouldn't continue to dribble out.
It was while she was reaching the robe that Sugar suddenly remembered the gown she'd brought home in the box from the boutique! She could feel the cold perspiration breaking out all over her body as she wondered if her mother or uncle had soiled or ruined it, as her uncle had the white pique? What would she wear to the graduation exercises? Worse still, how would Yale explain the loss of the gown to his father?
Frantically, Sugar grabbed the robe from the closet and, putting it on, hurried into the living room. She saw her mother sprawled out on the couch. She'd thrown one of Uncle Ben's blankets over herself, covering her head and body, only her shapely bare legs and feet sticking out.
From the couch, Sugar's gaze traveled across the room to where she'd thrown the box last night when her mother grabbed her. She let out her bunched-up breath in a sigh of relief. The box was still intact. Obviously they'd been too drunk to have discovered it.
Sugar hurried to it, picked it up and, hugging it to her body with both hands, hurried through the bedroom and into the bathroom. She would make sure that she didn't leave the box and its contents out of her sight again.
It wasn't until she got into the John and locked the door behind her that she allowed herself to even begin to think of last night's nightmare. She paused to look at her reflection in the mirror. The face of the girl who stared back at her was a sight. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot from crying, her hair disheveled and matted with sperm and cunt juice.
She grabbed her toothbrush and scrubbed the evil taste of gin and sex from her mouth and tongue. The very last thing in the world that Sugar wanted to remember was the loathsome experience she'd had with her mother. But there was no shutting it out of her mind. All the emotions that had been bottled up inside her since last night suddenly bubbled over and she began to cry, softly at first, then more violently as great sobs racked her body. Drunk or not, how could her mother have been a part of such debauchery? How could she have subjected her own daughter to such perversions? Helped Sugar's own uncle to rape her? Make her perform a Lesbian act with her?
On the verge of hysteria, Sugar finally tore herself away from the mirror, turned on the spray in the shower and stepped under it. Reaching the soap from the receptacle, she worked up a lather over her tits, her belly, her entire body, particularly between her legs. She made the temperature of the water as hot as she could stand it, letting it beat down upon her face and body, watching the semen her uncle had left in her cunt mix with the suds and gurgle down the drain.
It wasn't until she felt certain that every last speck of filth had been washed out of her pores and from inside her pussy, that she finally turned off the faucets and stepped out of the shower stall onto the cool tile. As she grabbed a huge bath towel from the rack and began to dry off her lobster-pink limbs and body, she thought of Yale. Not that he hadn't been there in her heart and mind all along. It was simply that she didn't want him mixed up in any of the sordidness of last night, not even in her thoughts.
Above all, Yale must never know about what happened last night. Because if he ever did, coming from a highly respectable, strait-laced family like his, it would be impossible for him to have any further respect for her. In truth, after the degrading things she had been forced to submit to with her mother and uncle, it was difficult even for her to retain her self-respect.
Reaching her robe from the hook where she'd hung it, Sugar put it on, then slipped into the bedroom.
Uncle Ben was still sprawled out on his back on the bed, snoring loudly, sleeping off his hangover. Without even a top sheet over him, Sugar could see his cock, shriveled to half-size, hanging down lifelessly between his hairy thighs. Looking at him like this, all she could feel for him was disgust, utterly and completely ashamed of him.
She was glad that he was still asleep. It would enable her to get dressed. First of all she went to the closet and from the shelf, she took down a well-worn suitcase. Her father had used it once upon a time, during his travels, and left it behind when he moved out.
Sugar opened the suitcase and carried it across the room to the dresser that she shared with her mother. She opened the drawer that contained her belongings, selected the things she'd wear and tossed the rest of the stuff into the suitcase. Then she returned to the closet. She had a very meager wardrobe, so it took only a moment for her to put her dresses and shoes into the suitcase, too, leaving out only the dress and shoes she'd planned to put on now.
She dressed quickly. Then she went into the bathroom and took her personal belongings-toothbrush, makeup, hair rollers, perfumes. She put them in the suitcase, too. Then she closed it.
She made sure her savings bankbook was in her handbag. After buying her graduation dress and the few other things she needed, her bank balance wasn't big. Just about enough to keep her going until she could find a job. Because that was what she had decided to do. After last night, it would be impossible to stay here in the apartment with her mother and uncle any longer. Because sooner or later, the same thing would happen all over again...and that was all she'd need, one more time, and she'd be sucked right into the same kind of life they were living. After all, she never wanted that to happen. Because if it ever did, she knew that any slight chance she might have of ever making it with Yale would be lost. Her only hope was to get as far away from her mother and uncle as she could and try to make something of herself. Try to become the sort of person Yale would be proud instead of ashamed of, someone his family would be happy to accept.
With a last hurried glance around the bedroom to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, Sugar picked up the suitcase in one hand and with the box from De Moiselle Boutique in the other, she went into the living room. Her mother was still on the couch, head and body covered over as before.
Sugar was glad that she wouldn't have to say good-bye to her mother, because that would call for a lot of explaining that Sugar didn't feel up to. She'd call or write later and let her mother know where she was and that she was all right. As far as her graduation was concerned, neither her mother nor Uncle Ben had made any plans to attend the exercises. They both had to work.
As she moved quietly toward the door, Sugar caught sight of the white pique dress and the bra and panties Uncle Ben had ripped off her last night. She stopped for a moment to examine them. She hadn't realized her uncle had done such a thorough job of ruining them. The bra and the panties she wasn't too concerned about. But she felt sad about the dress, since she had spent so much of her savings on it. She might have mended it, but it would never really be much good again. So she left everything there on the floor and continued on toward the door.
"And just where the hell do you think you're going?"
The voice startled Sugar, and she turned to see her mother sitting up on the couch. The blanket that had been covering her had slipped down to her waist, baring her torso. It was a strange thing for Sugar to notice at such a crucial moment-but her mother did have a beautiful bust, especially for a woman her age. Big, firm and high, they were the kind of tits that even a Hollywood sex symbol might drool over with envy.
"I'm leaving, Mother," Sugar said simply.
"Leaving for where?" her mother wanted to know.
Sugar could tell just by looking at her mother that she hadn't the faintest recollection about what happened last night. In a way, Sugar was glad her mother didn't remember. She wished that she herself could forget so easily. But it was impossible. Just as it was impossible for her to go on living here any longer. Nothing had really changed simply because her mother had drawn a blank.
"Tonight's graduation," Sugar reminded her mother, attempting to avoid a long, drawn-out discussion. "There are a million and one things I've got to do before then."
Her mother frowned at the suitcase. "Why've you gotta take that?"
"I've got to change later," was Sugar's reply. Then something seemed to grab at her heart, made her remember that the woman on the couch was still her mother. She left the suitcase and box at the door and went to the couch. She took her mother's bewildered face in her two hands and kissed her lips. "Good-bye, Mother," she murmured.
"Good-bye?" her mother echoed. "You sound like maybe you aren't coming back?"
Sugar's answer was brief and cryptic.
"Just don't worry about me," she said. She had no true feeling of sadness or remorse at the thought that she wouldn't be seeing her mother again-maybe for a very long time. The awful things that happened last night welled up in her mind again, dwarfing any possible sentiment she normally might have experienced. Without further comment, Sugar straightened away from her mother, hurried to the door and picked up the suitcase.
It wasn't until Sugar opened the door that her mother caught sight of the torn, white pique dress on the floor. "Whatever happened to your nice new graduation gown?" her mother called out.
Sugar made no answer. She simply went out the door and closed it after her. But in her heart she was awfully, awfully glad that her mother didn't remember last night...
The West Los Angeles-Beverly Hills branch of the YWCA was located on Santa Monica Boulevard, not too far from the apartment. Sugar had seen the place a number of times while riding the bus. She decided it would be the safest, most convenient and least expensive place she could stay until she could find a full-time job and make other arrangements. So she registered and stayed there until it was time for her to shower and dress and leave for the high-school commencement exercises.
CHAPTER TEN
To say that Sugar's graduation gown caused a sensation at the commencement exercises next night would have been the greatest understatement in the high school's long and colorful history-especially when she showed up at the auditorium where the exercises were held with no bra on under her see-through top. It wasn't that she was trying to be risque. The gown simply looked better and fit better without a bra.
Besides, for the actual ceremonies the graduates would all wear caps and gowns, which would more than adequately cover her. But according to tradition, just before leaving the platform at the conclusion of the exercises, they would remove their caps and gowns and leave them neatly folded on their chairs before departing. It wasn't difficult to imagine what a reaction the sight of Sugar's breasts through her see-through top would have on the audience when her cap and gown came off.
However, it never quite reached that stage. In fact, for several very anxious moments, it didn't look as if Sugar would be permitted to take part in the graduation program. Until one of her teachers, who liked Sugar and knew how very hard Sugar had worked to receive her diploma with the rest of the class, came forward and volunteered to loan Sugar her bra. Luckily, this sympathetic teacher boasted a 38-inch bust the same as Sugar, so that her white nylon bra fit Sugar perfectly and looked very nice under her lacy white bodice.
While all this was going on backstage, Yale was seeing to it that his mother and father, who had come to see their daughter graduate, were seated far enough back from the platform, where they couldn't make out Sugar's gown too clearly. Sugar, of course, didn't know about this until later. Nor did she or Yale take into consideration that his sister might have visited the boutique, seen the gown and recognized it as the one Sugar was wearing.
In any event, after the business of the bra was straightened out, everything went along smoothly. Then, as rehearsed, after the sheepskins were handed out, off came the caps and gowns while the graduates sang their alma mater song for the last time, then one-by-one they left the platform.
As Sugar came down the short flight of stairs from the platform, she searched the crowd for Yale so that he could take her to the dance, then slip away quietly and return the gown to the shop. But barely did she reach the bottom step, when she heard someone say, "Pardon me, young lady, but I'd like to talk to you."
Sugar turned and looked up into the face of Cal Ordway. She'd never met him, but she'd seen him around town many times. Even if she hadn't, she'd have known him in a moment. While he might not have been as tall as his son, there was a striking resemblance, even though the man standing before her was much more mature-looking. Both had the same wide shoulders, the same strong jaw, aquiline nose, pale-blue eyes and blond hair. Although Cal Ordway's hair was now more white than blond.
After he introduced himself, he said quietly and diplomatically, "Mrs. Ordway and I have been admiring your lovely gown. We were wondering if you'd tell us where you got it?"
Her stomach already constricted and the palms of her hands wet with nervous perspiration, Sugar suddenly pushed the panic button. She turned and started to run away through the crowd. It was a foolish thing to try do to. But she knew she had no answer for Cal Ordway's question, unless of course she implicated Yale. She didn't want to do that because of the trouble it would cause him-and herself.
She took no more than half a dozen steps when the crowd closed in and blocked her way and Ordway caught up with her. It wasn't until then Sugar saw that his wife, a tall, slim woman with a skeletal face and shoe-button eyes, was with him.
"Now, Miss Kane-that is your name, isn't it?" Ordway exacted.
Sugar nodded, wishing for all the world that the floor would open up and swallow her up, or that she'd wake up and find it wasn't really happening.
"Will you please tell me where you got the gown?" Ordway insisted.
Sugar swallowed fearfully. "It... it was given to me."
"That's a bald-faced lie!" Mrs. Ordway suddenly spoke up. "That gown is an original. The only one of its kind in the world."
"That's right," her husband tacked on. "It was designed for me by Pierre of Paris."
"Oh, stop all this nonsense," Mrs. Ordway spat out with aggravated impatience as the crowd, including a couple of special officers, gathered around. "All you have to do is look at the label to tell she's lying."
Ordway sighed and cast a disapproving glance at his wife for the scene she was making, even though he knew she was right. The upshot of the whole thing was that, at his request, the two guards escorted Sugar to one of the little private rooms backstage at the auditorium, where Sugar was asked to take off the gown, so that Ordway and his wife could read the label.
Standing there in only her bra and panties, before someone discreetly handed her a robe to put on, Sugar saw that Yale's father filled his eyes with a lot more than the store label, which, of course, they found inside the dress. After that, all hell broke lose. Mrs. Ordway insisted that the police be called and Sugar hauled off to juvenile court.
Ordway tried to talk her out of it. Since the gown was being returned, he could see no point in causing the girl any further embarrassment, or hardship. But Mrs. Ordway could not be swayed. She insisted that Sugar be prosecuted.
Sugar still refused to implicate Yale, even though she couldn't understand why he hadn't come forward and helped her out of this terrible situation. Sugar had known all along that, like his father, Yale was deathly afraid of his mother. But what she didn't know whas that he'd been present when his sister recognized the gown and suggested to their parents that they have a closer look at it. Nor was she to know that Yale, aware of the scene his mother would make when the gown was discovered, to say nothing of the hell she'd cause if he ever admitted to what happened between himself and Sugar, had decided on the line of least resistance and had taken a hurry-up powder.
At police headquarters, Sugar was taken into a little room, seated in a straight-backed chair and interrogated by a policewoman, as if she were a hardened criminal. Even though the policewoman's questioning reduced Sugar to tears, the girl refused to say how she got the gown, except that it was loaned to her.
Sugar spent the night at police headquarters, awaiting an appearance in juvenile court the following morning. Her mother came to see her as soon as she heard about the mess her daughter was in.
Whether or not Ella Kane's appearance at headquarters helped or hurt Sugar was difficult to say, especially since everyone knew of her unsavory reputation. However, she did bring a dress for Sugar and told her, "Don't you worry, Sugar baby, I've got friends here in the city. You won't be in here very long."
As it developed, it wasn't necessary for Ella to call on her friends, because when court convened in the morning, Sugar was told the charges against her had been dropped and she was released. At first, she thought it might have been her mother's doing. But when the lawyer who arranged for her release spoke to her in the corridor outside the courtroom, she learned the truth.
"I'm Mr. Cal Ordway's attorney," he told her. "He sent me here to straighten things out and apologize for any inconvenience you might have suffered."
Sugar was still a little confused. "Why?"
The lawyer glanced up and down the corridor to make certain no one was within earshot. "Yale told his mother and father the whole truth last night. He admitted that he had been seeing you and that he gave you the gown to wear for your graduation."
Whatever small joy Sugar may have gotten from the fact that Yale had finally mustered the courage to tell his parents the truth was short-lived when the attorney continued.
"I'd say you were a very lucky girl that things turned out the way they have," he said to her. "And if I may offer some free advice, you'll be very wise to make no attempt to see Yale when he comes back."
Sugar frowned. "Comes back? Comes back from where?"
"Europe."
"Europe?"
"His mother and father have made arrangements for him to spend the remainder of the summer over there with their foreign buyers," the lawyer went on explaining. "And from there he'll return directly to college. So I repeat, you'll be a very smart girl to forget all about him. Because next time your luck may not hold out."
"Luck?"
"That's right. I don't know whether you're aware of it, but Mrs. Ordway is a very determined woman, and if you insist on furthering your relationship with her son, you might live to regret it."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once Sugar fully accepted the truth that Yale was not coming back to her, she decided to embark on the course that she had originally mapped out for herself. She enrolled for a day secretarial course at a local business college and, no longer content to let her mother support her, got a job as a carhop at a hamburger drive-in not too far from home. It wasn't the greatest job in the world, or even the kind of job she wanted, but at the moment, work of any kind was at a premium, and she felt herself fortunate to land a job, since she had no business experience at all.
To all effects and purposes, it looked as if Sugar's life had finally taken an upward sweep, until she discovered that there was a great deal more to the job than merely serving customers food and drink in their cars.
Toward the end of her third night on the job, Nick Damon, who owned the place, stopped her on the way into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes and asked, "You got a date for tonight, kid? Anybody stopping by to pick you up after work?"
"No, sir," Sugar replied.
"Good," Damon said. "I want you to stick around for a while after we close up. Okay?"
"Of course, Mr. Damon," she said, figuring he might want her to help him straighten up, give her a chance to earn some extra overtime money she certainly could use.
So she waited around until the last customer departed and he put out the big neon sign over the drive-in that blinked out: Nick's Place. Then he said to her, "I wanna show you my place in back."
Sugar knew that he lived just behind the restaurant in an outsized trailer but, until tonight, she'd never seen the inside of it. She was truly amazed at the way the trailer was furnished with everything from a fully equipped kitchen and bath, to a full-sized double bed and color TV set.
"You like your job here, kid?" was the first thing he asked her after they got inside the trailer and he opened a can of beer for himself and a coke for Sugar.
"Very much," Sugar said as she took the bottle of cola from him.
He drank a swig of beer from the can as he walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it. "Like to make sure you keep it? Sort of have yourself a little job insurance?"
Sugar nodded as she took a sip of the cola from the bottle. Now that he had off his apron, Sugar saw for the first time what a hard-on he had.
"Good. In that case come on over here and let's me and you iron out a few details," Damon said as he patted the spot beside him on the bed.
Sugar hesitated a moment. From the way his cock was throbbing under his pants, there was no question in her mind what would happen if she sat on the bed with him. After Yale and her uncle, she knew the consequences only too well.
For her this was a moment of critical decision. The fact that he was about six-three and tipped the scales at a good 250 pounds didn't make too much difference. Nor did his long, black hair or his drooping black mustache and day's growth of wire whiskers. That he smelled of beer and strong, black cigars had nothing to do with it, either. What concerned her mostly at the moment was how desperately she needed this job. Not only because her money was running out and she couldn't go back to the apartment while her uncle was still there, but she still wanted to follow her original plan and go to business college and prepare herself for something better than a carhop joint, which she could never hope to do if she weren't working.
Besides, in the cold glare of reality, she really had nothing to lose. Yale and Uncle Ben had seen to that. Yale in particular. He'd taken her cherry, broken her in. True, she'd done it because she was in love with him and believed he was in love with her. But she knew now by the way he ran out on her that it was nothing more than sex. Sex in exchange for a dress, which wasn't a great deal different from what Damon was offering her right now. Sex in return for the guarantee of a job.
With a deep sigh of resignation, Sugar took another drink of the soda, put it aside and walked slowly toward the bed. By no stretch of imagination could she say she was looking forward to the prospects of what she knew was going to happen. But if the end justified the means..!
She sat on the bed beside him, her heart hammering, her tummy constricted. She made a futile attempt to pull down the miniskirt of the carhop uniform she was still wearing, and which at most covered no more than a few inches of her thighs. She tightened a little when she saw his right hand move forward and he lay his sweaty palm on her bare thigh just below the borderline of her skirt.
"You got nice legs," he complimented her. "I see the way guys lean halfway out the window of their cars, ogling 'em when you walk away." He ran his hand just a little further up her thigh, carrying her skirt along with it. "Yeah, you got the legs all right. But what I'm wondering about-are they for real?" He stared at her breasts through the tight, sleeveless, low-cut uniform top she was wearing. "One broad I had working for me had a pair of knockers like yours. But when she started to peel, she must've had ten yards of crud stuffed inside her goddamn bra."
Sugar smiled reassuringly. "Mine are for real, Mr. Damon."
Apparently, he wasn't about to take anybody's word for it. He lifted his right hand from her thigh and put it to her left tit, squeezing it tentatively. "It feels real. Let's have a look. Okay?"
He didn't wait for her answer, but started to unbutton the front of her jacket with anxious fingers.
Sugar had thought that maybe her experiences with Yale and Uncle Ben would have case-hardened her. But they did not. Yet she made no attempt to stop the swarthy drive-in owner. She simply sat there straight and tense, arms at her sides, hands clenched on the bed, as he threw open the front of her jacket. She wore nothing underneath except her well-filled bra.
His eyes were hot and hungry as he ogled the mounds of milky-white flesh straining and swelling over the tops of the cups. His breathing grew heavy with anticipation as he reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Then he lifted it away from her voluptuous tits and stared at them, cotton forming at the comers of his mouth.
"Christ!" he exclaimed. "I never seen such knockers. Holy Jeez, what a pair!"
Sugar held her breath as she saw his thick lips drop to her breasts and gobble one of her nipples into his mouth to chew and suck on it, as he might on the end of one of his fat black cigars. It would have been a lie to say that he sent her the way Yale had. But it would have been an even greater falsehood for her to deny that it didn't send sensations racing through her body and cause a burning ache to settle in her cunt, the way Uncle Ben did when he suckled her tits.
It simply bore out what Sugar had believed all the time, that once she'd had her first real taste of sex, as she had with Yale and her uncle, it would be extremely difficult, if not impossible to fight against it again. It was after all something that, based on fact or not, Sugar believed was true. That her sensuality was inherited. Not only from her mother, but from her father as well. Since it had come out at the divorce trial that he was a stud of the first magnitude, screwing anybody and everybody as long as they had a cunt. Which was the only reason that her mother was awarded custody of her.
As she felt Damon lower her backward down onto the bed, his hand moving up under her short skirt, Sugar could feel her body starting to heat up. As unappealing as he might have been to her, Sugar told herself that maybe this was happening at a most propitious moment. Not only for the relief he would bring to her, but he just might help her to get Yale out of her system once and for all.
She gave a little lurch as she felt Damon's sausage like fingers glide over her pussylips, outside her panties. There was a strangeness about them that caused her to bring her legs tightly together for a moment. They were bigger and rougher than Yale's fingers. But not nearly so cruel as her uncle's had been that night before graduation.
She lay there submissively, gradually parting her thighs as the hand continued to caress her. She made no attempt to stop him as he lowered her panties and dug his fingers into her heated, wet cunt.
Still nuzzling her tits, he had little difficulty locating her rigid clit, teasing, tickling. With her nostrils flared and her tongue licking her fevered lips, Sugar closed her eyes. She hadn't wanted to think of Yale at this moment. But so closely was he associated with the thrill that Damon's masturbating fingers was bringing her, that she subconsciously found and held the image of Yale in front of her. He was standing there in her mind's eye, naked, that beautiful cock of his curving up rigidly from his belly. That delicious cock that she'd held in her mouth and sucked until it ejaculated.
The thought of it made her far more susceptible to Damon's fingers in her cunt and she began humping along with them, until he brought her to orgasm. Then Damon was stripping off what little remained of her clothing until she was nude.
Sugar felt a sudden strange pang of embarrassment and modesty lying naked before him. She tried to both cover and protect herself at the same time as his eyes raped her gleaming flesh heatedly.
"Christ, you're a piece!" was the compliment he paid her. Then he reached down, took hold of her hips in his two huge hands and started to turn her.
Mild fear tapped her brain. "What. . . what are you doing?"
"Turning you over," he said. "I want you to lay down on your belly."
"What for?" she demanded.
He didn't answer her. Instead he yanked her into his arms and put his mouth to hers, his beer and tobacco-laden kiss drawing every ounce of breath from her lungs. She pushed at him feebly, fearful of what he might be going to do to her. But he handled her like an infant, lowering and turning her until she was face-down on the bed.
"What an ass!" he exclaimed with the true appreciation of a connoisseur as he ran his hands over her polished cheeks, spreading them apart so he could get a good look at her anus. "What a beautiful ass!" With his hands back on her hips, he lifted her buttocks and shoved a couple of pillows under her belly. "You ever have it Greek style?"
Greek style? She'd heard the expression and knew what he meant. She shook her head violently, her whole body trembling with dread anticipation.
He seemed to delight in the knowledge that his was going to be the first cock in her asshole. He said. "In that case, I'll be extra careful and get you ready first."
Sugar made a move to try to get away. "No, please, Mr. Damon! I don't want it like that!"
"How do you know you don't want it if you never tried it?" he rationalized, his hands clamped on her hips, holding her tightly as she continued to struggle. "Look, so far you've done okay. Don't go lousing it up now by making like you don't want it."
"I don't!" Sugar cried. "Not this way."
"Tough shit, kiddo. 'Cause this is the way you're gonna get it," he insisted. "If you want to hang onto your job, you play nice and you won't get hurt."
The next moment, Sugar felt his wet, fat tongue, moving up and down the crease of her ass, lingering at her rear hole. It was a brand-new sensation that Sugar found impossible to ignore as he licked the puckered, - velvet surface, then fitted his tongue into the tight cavity. She never dreamed that what she had always considered a filthy act could turn her on so completely, as she felt her hole expanding to accommodate the full length of his tongue. She could feel the stroking of his tongue clear through to her clit, that had grown rigid with the excitement he was bringing her.
She'd noticed a half-filled bottle of olive oil on the small table next to the bed. She had wondered what it was for. Now she knew, as he saturated his fingers with the oil, then worked them into her asshole. First one, then two, then three of them he wedged into her anus, pushing them in and out, lubricating her, loosening her, stretching the ring-shaped muscle that surrounded the opening.
She wasn't sure how long it was before she felt his fingers replaced by his cock. It was very hot and very hard, and he placed it in the crease of her ass and let it rest there a moment as he bore down on her. Sugar couldn't tell whether it was bigger or smaller than Yale's cock. She just knew he was going to have the devil's own time trying to fit it into her tight hole. She tried to appeal to him to stick it in her cunt. At least she knew she'd have no trouble accepting him that way. But he refused to listen.
She began to scream when she felt the huge, throbbing head of his cock against her asshole, making its torturous entry.
"No...no...please!"
Whether Damon didn't hear her or didn't give a damn, he rammed against her pinched, puckered anus until it opened and his cock was in clear up to the corona. Sugar continued to scream and squirm, trying to escape the burning sting as he pushed into her. For one panicky moment, she thought she was going to faint from the excruciating pain. But then her stubborn sphincter gave way and he plunged into her rectum, all the way, clear up to his balls.
She sobbed somewhere off in space, her body quivering in great earth-rumbling spasms as he continued to bang her bowels. Then his hands slid beneath her. One to massage her dangling tits, the other slipping into her cunt to hone her clit, the sensations blending with her dulling pain to cause her a series of orgasms that reached a crescendo at precisely the same instant he came and filled her ass with his milky scum.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was Friday night of the second week that Sugar had been working as a carhop at Damon's drive-in restaurant. She had been on the job only about an hour, when a long, underslung, robin's-egg blue Caddy drove in and came to a halt in one of the spaces that fanned out like the spokes of a wheel from the diner.
Sugar could see from the distance that the occupant of the car was a male, so she went through the usual routine reserved for members of the opposite sex. She tilted her pillbox cap to a jaunty angle at one side of her pretty brown head, made sure that just enough cleavage showed over the top of her low-cut uniform jacket to be intriguing, then walked briskly toward the car to take the customer's order.
It wasn't until she was just a few steps from the Caddy that she suddenly recognized the man behind the wheel. With a gasp she halted in her tracks. Then, hoping he hadn't recognized her, she turned quickly and started to hurry away, when the man's voice called out to her: "Seems you tried to run away the last time we met."
Too late. He had recognized her. So there was nothing for her to do but turn and walk to the side of the car. She looked at him almost tearfully and whispered, "Please, Mr. Ordway. I ... I don't want any trouble."
He dropped his blue eyes to the liberal display of white flesh that her uplift bra pushed up over the neckline of her jacket. He smiled quizzically. "Trouble?"
"I know what you probably think. After all the things Yale must have told you about me that night of the graduation. And... well, as I said, I don't want any trouble. I need this job very badly."
Ordway held his smile. "I'm afraid you've got me confused with Mrs. Ordway. She's the one who was upset about the things Yale said about you. Not I. Such a lovely young girl as you, I was very much in sympathy with my son. Perhaps even a little envious."
She started to suddenly feel self-conscious the way he was ogling her breasts and made a vain attempt to cover them.
He wisely raised his eyes to meet her gaze. He said, "Would you believe me if I told you that I've been very unhappy about the way you were treated that night of the graduation, that Mrs. Ordway and I caused you so much trouble and humiliation? That's why I've tried to find you and apologize to you. To see if there isn't some way I can make it up to you."
Sugar smiled weakly. "That's hardly necessary, Mr. Ordway."
"I feel it is," Cal Ordway insisted. "Yale told me that you were the one who picked out the gown that you wore at graduation."
Sugar nodded perfunctorily.
"Which proves you have excellent taste-rather expensive taste," Ordway said. Then he glanced around at the surroundings. "Hardly the taste of a girl who'd be satisfied working in a place like this."
"I have other plans," Sugar said in her defense.
He smiled expansively. "I'd like to hear about them. Maybe I could help you realize them? If you could possibly see your way clear to meet me a little later this evening, we might just talk about them?"
Sugar looked at him intently. Suddenly it dawned on her how naive she had been. He hadn't come here to apologize, or to tell her how sorry he was about what happened the night of graduation. He was here for one purpose-to see if she'd go out with him.
"As I said, darling," Ordway went on with a new warmth and intimacy in his voice. "You very obviously are a girl with good taste, who likes pretty things, and . ,. well...since I own De Moiselle Boutique, I see no reason why you shouldn't have everything your heart desires."
A mild chill swept through Sugar as she realized what he was implying. Not necessarily because she was shocked or offended. But because he was Yale's father. She could only begin to imagine what Yale must have told him about her for him to proposition her this way. Not that she blamed him. It was Yale about whom she felt embittered. His father, after all, was a man and probably figured that what his son had done, he should be able to do, too.
As she kept staring at Cal Ordway, a strange thing happened. She envisioned herself back in De Moiselle Boutique. All around her were breathtaking gowns and dresses ... costly wraps...shoes and sandals and boots of every style and coloring...hats and handbags...the sheerest of sheer hose...delicate, dreamy lingerie...sparkling jewelry...exotic perfumes. Everything to make a girl look beautiful, feel beautiful. They were there, all of them, right at her fingertips. Hers for the taking, to wear and keep for her very own, without fear of being caught, or having to return them as she did the bridal gown that Yale let her wear.
"Well?" Ordway asked anxiously, his eyes continuing to appraise Sugar's breasts and bare legs.
Sugar weighed her answer very carefully. It was true that she had promised herself that she would never follow in her mother's footsteps. But from the events of the past few weeks, it was becoming more and more apparent that no matter how she tried to avoid it, sex was going to play a very important part in her life. Aside from Yale and her uncle, she had allowed Damon to bugger her for the past week or so.
This, however, she did not consider as breaking her promise. It was merely a means of existing while she got herself situated and arranged for the business course she was planning to take. She had tried everywhere to get another job. But with school closed for the summer vacation, the city was flooded with graduates like herself and jobs were at a premium-especially jobs that paid as well as the one she had with Damon.
Now, Ordway with his promise of "everything her heart desired," was offering her an opportunity to really live, rather than merely exist. Since there seemed little likelihood that she was ever going to escape sex, it would be foolish for her not to accept the very best deal offered her. Then there would be the added satisfaction of knowing that he was Yale's father and that she'd be getting back at him for running out on her the way he did, without even so much as a good-bye, and for what he must have told his father about her. On top of that, there was Mrs. Ordway. Not that Sugar was a particularly vengeful person, but she felt she owed the woman something for the way she humiliated her at graduation, even had her locked up. What better payment than to usurp the love of the woman's husband?
"I still haven't had your answer?" Ordway said tolerantly. "Would you care to meet me after you finish work?"
She met his gaze for a moment, unblinkingly. Then she slowly moved her head up and down.
His face brightened with a smile. Sugar was amazed that when he smiled, how much he looked like Yale-even if a somewhat older version.
"What time?" he asked eagerly.
"Nine-thirty," she replied. Then added, "But I won't be dressed to go any place."
His smile spread. "I think we can take care of that little detail."
It was closer to ten p.m. when Sugar slid onto the front seat of the Caddy, alongside Cal Ordway. It had been a lot more difficult and called for a lot more diplomacy than Sugar figured on before Nick Damon would let her get away without taking care of him.
Now seated beside Ordway in snug slacks, a well-fitted sweater and her long brown hair pulled back in a pony tail, she looked a lot less than her seventeen years. She could see very clearly the decidedly disquieting effect her youthful appearance had on him. Not that it caused him the slightest uneasiness or guilt of conscience because she looked so young. To the contrary, it apparently had been a long time since he'd gotten into anything as young and fresh and tender as Sugar, and he was looking forward to the possibility eagerly, as she could plainly see by the way his cock was palpitating hopefully, expectantly, in the dim reflection of the light from the dashboard.
In spite of his reaction, Sugar was still self-conscious of the way she was dressed, especially in the presence of the man who owned one of the most fashionable ladies shops in the city.
"I warned you I wouldn't be very presentable," Sugar said as he got the car moving away from the curb. "If I'd had any idea I was going to meet anyone after work ..."
"Stop worrying," he told her. "I told you I'd take care of it, didn't I?"
"Yes ..."
"Well, that's what I did. I stopped off at the boutique and picked up a complete change of clothes for you." He indicated a huge box on the rear seat of the car.
Sugar could feel her heart beating excitedly as she tried to imagine what he had selected for her, what he thought her tastes might be.
"Wherever will I change?" she asked, quite innocently.
He cleared his throat and kept his eyes straight ahead through the windshield as he headed toward Highway 101, which would take them southward along the coast. "I ... I hope you don't think me presumptuous, darling," he said in his smoothest tone. "But I did want to see what you look like in the new clothes I brought for you, so I took the liberty of making reservations at a ... a motel just this side of Huntington Beach. It's a quiet place, discreet and very respectable. I hope you don't mind?"
Sugar turned her head and studied his profile. Again she noted the amazing resemblance he bore his son. Same strong jaw, aquiline nose, look around the eyes. Only his hair was more gray than blond and closely clipped, and there was the hint of a double chin.
She thought about what he asked her: Did she mind that he'd taken the liberty of making reservations at a motel? Of course, he sugar-coated it by saying it was just some place to go so she might change clothes. But she knew the real reason they were going there.
Perhaps she should have resented his wanting to take her there. But after Yale and Damon and her uncle, she couldn't see how it could much matter. Besides, she was awfully anxious to see the clothes he'd brought her-and to find out what plans he might have for her. Still, she couldn't let him think she was all that easy, regardless of what Yale might have told him about her.
"I'm not in the habit of going to motels with men, Mr. Ordway," she said in her best and most innocent little-girl voice.
"I'm sure you aren't, my dear," he agreed. "But I did want to see how you look in the lovely clothes I brought for you. Find out how close I came to your correct size. Whether or not, I've lost my eye when it comes to judging the measurements of pretty young ladies."
Sugar hesitated a long moment, as if weighing what he said. Finally, with a forced sigh, she said, "Well-okay, Mr. Ordway. I don't want to appear ungrateful after you've gone to so much bother. And, well, I don't suppose it will hurt very much going there with you, this one time. But you will promise to be good?"
"Very good," he assured her with a smile and leaned his foot down heavily on the throttle.
Maybe it was simply the newness of it all, but Sugar only wished she didn't feel like such a harlot, going to a motel with a man this way. Knowing that no matter how many polite excuses he gave her, or she tried to give herself, she was going there to be fucked!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ordway was right about the motel being discreet and quiet. Situated back off Highway 101 not too far from the ocean front, a person would almost have to know it was there to be able to find it. Each cabin was detached and at a reserved distance from the others.
After they got inside their cabin, Sugar found it to be like no motel she had ever been in before. The furniture was no mail-order house stuff, the floors covered wall-to-wall with deep shag carpeting, and everything was done to a king's taste, including a big color TV set and a king-sized bed.
"Like it?" he asked, after he locked the door and gave her a chance to look around.
"It's lovely!" she exclaimed.
"Try the bed," he told her.
She looked at him reprovingly.
"Just sit on it, bounce up and down," he modified.
She sat on the bed and sank far down into the mattress. Then she began to bounce up and down, her breasts jouncing delightfully under her sweater. She couldn't help but see his cock grow an inch or two bigger as he took a couple of steps closer to "I never felt a bed like this one," she declared. "What makes it so squishy-squashy?"
He smiled down at her. "It's a waterbed."
"Oh." She bounced up and down on it a few more times, then got to her feet.
Ordway had the box from the boutique that he'd brought in with him from the car. He held it out to her.
"I'd like to shower first," she said.
"Of course, darling." Cal took the cover off the box and Sugar's eyes sparkled as she saw the array of goodies he'd brought for her. "You go shower and I'll hang these things in the closet, so the wrinkles will fall out. You can try all of them on when you come out. But first-I'd like you to j model this after you shower." He handed her an ice-blue nightie, so sheer that she could see the lines on his palm as he held it out to her. "And these," he added, handing her a pair of white, spike-heeled slippers trimmed with monkey fur, and a four-ounce bottle of My Sin perfume.
She took the things and, clutching them to her breast, hurried into the bathroom. She stripped quickly and put on a plastic cap that the management thoughtfully supplied to keep milady's hair dry while showering.
Once under the invigorating needle spray, Sugar scrubbed the stink of food and every other j offensive reminder of Damon and his restaurant out of her pores. Then she dried herself off and daubed the My Sin between her legs, under her breasts and made sure she missed none of the erogenous areas of her lovely body. She put on the ' transparent, ice-blue shortie nightie that barely covered her luxurious pelt, applied fresh makeup, then ran a comb through her long, silken brown hair. Satisfied that she looked the way he hoped she would look, Sugar opened the door and stepped into the adjoining room.
She found Ordway sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket and tie off, shirt open at the neck, waiting for her. Even though she'd appeared naked before Yale, Damon and her uncle, she couldn't help the embarrassment that swept over her as Ordway settled his gaze on her. The nightie offered little or no protection from his eyes that feasted themselves on her tits, her brown bush, her slim body and long, exquisitely shaped legs.
His cock grew bigger and bigger inside his trousers as his eyes followed the delightful bounce of her bubble-ass under the gossamer, ice-blue nightie, as she hurried across the room to the closet, where he'd hung the beautiful sunburst-yellow, silk-wool cocktail dress that he'd brought for her from the boutique. Atop the dresser was a pair of spider-web panties, matching bra, sheer black hose and silk garter belt. She took the dress from the hanger and danced to the mirror with it, where she held the dress in front of her to see what she looked like.
"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Heavenly! And just my size, too!"
She hung the dress back in the closet and, unable to control her enthusiasm, she ran to Ordway, still seated on the bed. To show her appreciation, she leaned into him and kissed him, his hands cupping her dangling breasts through the wispy material of her nightie.
The next moment she was on the bed beside him, his hand moving beneath her nightie. She was immediately aware of the accomplished artistry of his fingers as they roved her quivering titties, teasing the points until they felt ready to burst. Now his free hand was between her legs petting her cunt, the middle finger gliding easily into her slippery, wet hole. His tongue, tasting strongly of a peppermint-flavored mouthwash, was now inside her mouth, for a three-way attack-mouth, tits and pussy. Any attempt she may have made at playing coy or pretending to be unaffected was to no avail. Under his fingers and tongue, her body betrayed her, as she panted and squirmed her way to an orgasm.
Sugar wondered if all girls were so easily aroused, could come as quickly as she-yes-and enjoy it so much? While the contractions were still going on in her body following her climax, Ordway pulled away and threw himself backward on the water-filled mattress, inviting her to lean over him.
Resting on her elbows beside him, she looked down at him and saw the tremendous, throbbing lump in his trousers. She was well aware of what he wanted her to do, and at this stage of the game, she could see little point in playing games with him, pretending she was an innocent. After what Yale must have told him, he knew better. Besides, she wanted to please him. Not only to show her appreciation for the lovely dress he brought her tonight, but to hopefully encourage him to bring her more in the future.
Shifting her weight to her left elbow, she ran the palm of her right hand over the swelling in his trousers. It felt very big and very hard.
He moaned and after a moment, he coaxed her to take it out.
"You're naughty," she told him reservedly.
"There's another dress in it for you, if you do," he said enticingly.
That did it. She fumbled a moment with his belt before she got it unbuckled. Then she unzipped his fly and dug her hand inside the opening of his shorts and fished for his cock. He'd made a mess inside with his drooling, and his cock was slimy wet as she brought it out into the open.
It seemed to be larger than Yale's-longer and fatter-with the same cute little upsweep to its purplish knob, like a proud snake that held its head high.
Moistening her right index finger in the tacky seepage from the piss-hole and, as Yale had shown her that one night they spent together in the ! boutique, she smeared it all over the swollen glans. Then she ran her finger up and down through the valley at the underside that Yale had told her was the most sensitive part of a man's prick. Ordway proved it was true, by the way he moaned and squirmed and tried to pump with the rhythm of I her finger.
She wondered what it would taste like? It looked so much like Yale's penis, could it possibly be as delicious?
She remembered some of the things that Yale had told her about fellatio. Not only that kissing a man's cock was more sanitary than kissing his mouth, but that many prostitutes preferred it to straight fucking, even though they might charge more for the trick. The reasons were multiple. It was quicker, and men, especially married men, enjoyed it more because it was something, as a rule, they couldn't get from their wives. For the girls, it was a lot less messy. They didn't have to worry about cleaning themselves later. Just spit the stuff out, or swallow it, then use a mouthwash. Also, most of the time a girl didn't have to undress to blow a guy. Just open the top of her dress enough for the guy to play with her tits while she was down on him.
However, in spite of all these advantages, Sugar had no intention of sucking Ordway right now. Not only because she didn't want him to think she'd do it that easily. But she'd learned that it wasn't smart to put all her tricks in one basket, I Like too much dessert at one sitting, a man could very easily satiate himself and lose interest in the rest of the banquet. Maybe some other time-and she was going to make sure there were "other times"-it could be used to far better advantage.
That didn't mean she wasn't going to give him a generous appetizer to whet his taste buds for the future. As long as she was in this thing, she decided she may as well go all the way and get just as much out of it as she could. So after fingering his cock to the maximum of arousal, Sugar rolled away from him and lay on her back on the water mattress, her thighs clenched together.
He got off the bed only long enough to pull off the rest of his clothes as Sugar watched him. He was not as well-built as his son. But for a man hugging fifty, he was in remarkable physical condition with nice shoulders, a fairly slim waist and only the hint of a pot.
As soon as he was undressed, he got back onto the bed and began kissing her tits, her belly and downward along her thighs. She offered no resistance as he parted her satiny white thighs. She lay there breathing fast, tense, watching him as he looked down at her moist, open cunt, as only a man his age could look at a teen-age girl.
"Beautiful," he murmured with keen delight. "There's nothing in this world as lovely as a fresh, young girl's vagina."
He put a forefinger at each side of the hole and gently spread the glistening pink lips, causing Sugar to close her eyes and writhe sensuously. She waited, half expecting him to start kissing her down there. But whether he didn't go in for eating cunt, she didn't know, and at the moment it didn't really matter. She was ready enough for him without it.
He knelt between her legs and, supporting himself on one elbow, grasped his cock in his free hand and brought it to her cunt. The moment the velvety knob of it brushed her hot, wet lips, it jumped so violently that Sugar thought surely he'd shot his wad prematurely; come before he was even inside her. But she knew differently when she felt it back again at her pussy, hot and hard as ever.
She brought up her legs, bent at the knees and spread them wide, opening her cuntlips for him as much as she could. He was gentle with her, pressing into her slowly and with great care. It reminded her a little of that first time with Yale, rather than the bestial way her uncle attacked her.
She had to admit to herself that it felt good to have a cock in the front hole again, after the week of buggery she'd experienced with Damon. What made it even more pleasurable was that impudent little upsweep at the head of Ordway's cock, that reminded her so much of Yale. In fact, when she threw an arm over her face, covering her eyes, it was Yale screwing her instead of his father. That Ordway's cock might be longer and fatter made little difference. Her cunt very quickly adjusted to the new size.
What did make a difference was the waterbed. This was Sugar's maiden voyage, and it took her a little while to get used to its rolling motion. But once she regulated her movements to it, she discovered that it not only fought back, compounding their humping, it added considerably to the conventional intercourse in which they engaged and gave the two of them a truly hydraulic fuck.
Just before his cock started to swell for the big moment, Ordway asked the perennial question: "Want me to come in you, or pull out? I'll pull out if you say so."
"It's no fun for you that way," she breathed throatily. "Stay in me."
"I wouldn't want you to get caught."
She remembered her lessons from sex class and said, "I won't be. I'm in the middle of my cycle."
"That's my girl. . . that's my sweetheart," Ordway panted, obviously delighted that he could finish inside her and enjoy his orgasm to its fullest. It seemed to add new impetus to his screwing, bringing him on more quickly. Because after only a few deep, penetrating jabs, he lifted her bodily off the mattress in both arms, held her close to him and began thundering his cum into the depths of her belly.
For Sugar it was sheer delight to feel the first liquid torrent splash against the walls of her cunt, gloriously soothing and refreshing after the voluptuous feeling he'd brought her and the weeks since both Yale and her uncle ejaculated inside her on the same night. Damon doing her in the rear hole didn't count. It was particularly delightful at this moment, because her own orgasm had started with the first convulsive jerking of Ordway's tool, filling her with excruciating pleasure.
Instinctively, as she had done with Yale, Sugar wrapped both her legs around his father's middle and kept squeezing his cock between the spongy walls of her cunt, milking every possible drop of sperm from him. This enabled her to continue enjoying her own climax, even after he had completed his.
It was undeniably a beautiful screw, and he told her so. What amazed her was that even after he got off her, his cock never really lost its size or stiffness. After only a few minutes, he was ready to go again.
As he started to move toward her, Sugar drew back for a moment to ask a rather personal question, one that puzzled her. "What will your wife say, if when you get home, you can't take care of her properly?"
"My wife?" He laughed loudly, amusedly. "You can't be serious? She's the most sexless female in the whole damn world. You know how many times I get to have intercourse with her during the year? Three times if I'm lucky. Father's day, my birthday and maybe once in a while for our anniversary. And even then it's like screwing a corpse. She just lies there like she's dead. Her vagina doesn't even get wet. I have to use half a jar of Vaseline on her. I'd get more pleasure out of masturbating." He brought his mouth to Sugar's nipples and pulled at them hard. "That's why with you, darling, it's like being born all over again. You'll make me young again."
Then he mounted her and fitted his tireless cock into her tight, pink, fur-trimmed hole that still oozed his cum. She wiggled her ass around on the water-filled mattress and sucked him deep into her cunt. Then, as she grasped his ass and rode with him to another jarring climax, she wondered if she was really enjoying him as much as she was leading herself to believe, or was it simply because he felt so damn much like Yale inside her?
One thing for sure, she hoped that her relationship with Ordway wouldn't be as short-lived as it had been with his son. Because in him, she saw a definite short-cut to all the things she wanted and made up her mind, then and there, that she would do anything she had to do to hold onto him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
So pleased was Ordway with Sugar's performance and the fact that she wanted to continue their relationship that he began immediately to assume a possessive, protective attitude toward her and began making plans for her future. It was only their third meeting. This time in a motel a little closer to the city, just off one of the much traveled highways in the San Fernando Valley.
They were lying naked together on the bed. Sugar, her cunt filled to overflowing with the fruit of his first discharge of the evening, had her brown-thatched head on his hairy belly, gradually coaxing his cock back to life, because on their last two outings, he had proven that he was good for two, even three screws a night, if she worked on him long enough.
"Sugar," he whispered finally, as she held up his balls in one hand and teased the head of his prick with the moist fingertips of the other hand. "I want you to quit your job at the hamburger joint."
She lifted her head and looked up at him over her naked shoulder. "But if I do that, darling, what'll I live on?"
"You let me worry about that," he replied.
"Another thing, this sneaking around, hiding out in motels has to go, too. Tomorrow afternoon, I want you to meet me and go look at an apartment I picked out for you."
"An apartment-for me?" she asked with genuine surprise.
He nodded. "Some place I can come and visit you any time I want to."
An apartment of her own! Sugar kept repeating the words over and over to herself. It was what she'd wanted all her life. It could be the start of everything else she wanted, too.
She looked at his semisoft cock lying across his right thigh. Surely for what he just told her, he deserved some kind of reward-a very special reward-and she very quickly made up her mind what it would be.
Shifting her position slightly, she leaned forward, picked up his limp cock and placed it between her tits. She pressed her boobs together with the palms of her hands so she could hold him there. Then, with the heat of his cock burning her body and the excitement of what she was about to do hardening her nipples, she mauled and massaged him until finally she felt him grow rigid.
"Now, darling," she breathed tensely. "You had a wonderful surprise for Sugar, and Sugar's got a nice surprise for you."
She let her breasts release him and dropped her mouth over the swollen head of his cock, coughing and gagging as she took him too deeply into her throat. She lifted her head off him for a moment.
Ordway took that moment to reach down, cradle her face in his hands and turn her head so he could look down at her and say, "You don't have to do that, Sugar."
She met his gaze and said, "I want to."
"Really?" he asked.
"Really," she assured him, and as he let go of her and lay his head back on the pillow, she took his cock into her mouth again. Remembering all the things that Yale had taught her about fellatio, she concentrated her complete attention on the job of eating cock, determined to make him feel as wonderful as she possibly could. She loved him with her hands and her lips, circling his dong clockwise, then counterclockwise with her tongue as she slid it in and out of her mouth, sucking all the while. It took her a while to coordinate the three actions together, but the effort was well worth it, if his reactions were any indication. Several times she brought him to the point of climax, then slowed down, wanting to make the thrill last for him as long as possible and when he did come, make his orgasm really intense. She'd begin each new attack on him with her lips as soft as she could make them, barely flicking the underside of his glans with the tip of her tongue. Then gradually she'd increase the suction until he was ready to blow, then completely relax again.
After half a dozen or more of this, he began begging for mercy, begging her to finish him. She did as he asked. She brought him to that final peak, and when he began to come, she didn't shirk her duty. As she'd done with Yale, she let him come in her mouth. Only this time she didn't swallow it. She held it there until he was finished shooting, then she let go of his cock and spit the cum out into a towel.
"Beautiful," he sighed contentedly as he took her in his arms and held her tightly. "That was just beautiful. You keep taking care of me like that and I'll take care of you. I'll lay the whole damned world right at your feet."
Which was exactly what Sugar wanted to hear him say.
The apartment that Ordway picked out for Sugar was precisely what would be expected of a man with his money and discriminating good taste. Located on an upper floor of one of Santa Monica's newest, highrise, ocean-front apartment buildings, it was furnished and decorated in a manner that Ordway would want for himself if he were living there instead of visiting.
The three rooms, all-electric kitchen and bath with its sunken tub were equipped with every modern convenience, everything of the very best. Immediately outside the living room and bedroom windows was a private patio that overlooked the Pacific. On rare, smogless days, Catalina looked close enough to reach out and touch. About the only modern contrivance that the place lacked was a waterbed. While Ordway admitted that normally a waterbed might add considerably to a routine screw, he told Sugar that having one was absolutely unnecessary when she began wiggling beneath him. The truth was that the damn things made him seasick, as he admitted to her later.
For the months that followed, Sugar lived like a princess with, as Ordway had told her, every material thing she could ask for. Now that Ordway knew her measurements even better than he knew his own, it wasn't necessary for Sugar to even go near the boutique. In fact, it might have proven embarrassing for him and for her if she had. Instead he brought her everything she could possibly need, until her wardrobe was full to bursting with dresses, evening gowns, sports togs, footwear, lingerie, hosiery and hats. His crowning gift to her was an imported sports car for her eighteenth birthday.
He also encouraged her to register at a local business college and take the secretarial course she'd planned on.
"Not that you'll ever need it as long as I'm around," he told her, "but it's good for you to have something to do during the day, so you don't get into any mischief while you're waiting for me."
Her sex life, too, had taken a strange turn. Strange, in every sense of the word. Because after the first few times they were together, Ordway tore off the mask of convention he'd been wearing and proved himself to be a real sex freak.
The first indication of this came the night he followed her into the bathroom, got into the sunken tub with her and fucked her underwater, then made her let him douche her. The reluctance he'd shown that first night in the motel toward cunnilingus had been eyewash, too.
Many times during these sessions, he told her he loved her, that he wished he could be with her always. But he never said a word about leaving his wife, or even suggested that he would ever marry Sugar. Which didn't matter a great deal to her. Because she was not in love with him, never could be. She told him that. Even though she never told him why. Never let him know that she had promised herself she would never let herself fall in love with anyone again.
She was still licking her wounds left by the one and only time she had ever fallen in love. Wounds so deep that she never asked about Yale, never even mentioned his name. Whether or not Ordway was jealous of his own son because Yale had known her first, he didn't say, and never talked about Yale, either. Except for his football prowess when the fall season began. But even Sugar knew that Yale was burning up the gridirons back east, was a candidate for the Heisman trophy and sure to be a high-up draft choice. That information was in all the papers.
All through the summer and fall and then into winter, Sugar continued to live in the Santa Monica apartment, attending school during the day and taking care of Ordway's needs at night, marveling at how much time he could spend with her, away from his wife.
Then one Tuesday night, shortly before the holidays, as usual, Ordway came to spend the evening with her. As they often did, they attended a show, had dinner and got back to the apartment at about one a.m. When they arrived there, Sugar took her customary shower, doused her body with the exotic perfume he'd brought her. Then she got into bed, where Ordway was waiting for her. Pajamas and nighties were things they had learned to dispense very early in their affair, so that now they were both stark naked.
'Sugar propped herself up against the headboard in what had become his favorite position so that he might indulge in his favorite pastime-sucking her tits. A strange chemical reaction had taken place in Sugar's body since her eighteenth birthday. She wasn't pregnant, but they had both discovered that, like some women, when she was properly sexually stimulated, she could give milk. Not a great quantity. Just enough to wet his lips, moisten his tongue and gullet, offering him a rare and added satisfaction. Which, understandably, became a nightly ritual.
Tonight, as usual, after she had made herself comfortable, she cradled his gray-thatched head in the crook of her left arm and held him so he could relish his body-warm, bedtime milk. With his lips fastened to her left nipple, his fingers gently massaging the soft underside of her tit to encourage the flow of milk, he began his suckling. Her free hand, meantime, slid down over his belly to find his cock and gently stroke him so that he would be ready when she was ready.
"Okay," she finally heard him murmur after he had siphoned off the few drops of milk that her tits held for him. Then they both shifted their positions so that he could get between her widespread legs and slide his slightly spoon-shaped prick into her aroused pussy.
Once he was berthed inside her, they began humping all over the mattress until the whole bed shook under their gyrations. They were so used to each other by now that they could figure almost to the second how long it would take for each of them to come, so they could time themselves for simultaneous climaxes.
"Ohh...get ready...start that little cunt of yours purring," he gasped as he shoved his cock to his full length into her cunt and held there deep inside her. "I'm starting to come ..."
''I'm ready, darling...let it come...lots...fill Sugar's cunt and belly with Daddy's lovely hot cum," she breathed, using the words he'd taught her as she felt his cock swell up to alarming proportions.
Whock! Something hard and unyielding came down on Ordway's bare, upturned ass with a sickening metal-on-flesh splat!
He let out a scream like a banshee with its tits caught in a vise, ramming his cock so far up in Sugar's belly that she thought for a moment the head of it would surely come out of her gaping mouth. At the same incredible instant they both began to come.
At what should have been the supreme moment for the two of them turned into one of unparalleled horror, they looked up over his bare shoulder and saw the menacing figure hovering over them.
"Good Christ!" Ordway blurted out, looking for all the world like a man watching the fall of the sharp blade of a guillotine. "Sylvia!"
Sylvia Ordway made no reply. She simply snorted fiercely and brought the huge, gold-plated hand-mirror she was holding down on his bare ass again, as he started to pull out of Sugar's cunt. The force of the blow sent his spurting cock deep into Sugar's belly, again, bunting her womb.
How Mrs. Ordway had gotten into the apartment, or how long she'd been standing there at the side of the bed watching them, was of little concern. Obviously, she'd been there long enough to grab the hand-mirror with Sugar's initials engraved on it, from the vanity.
Still standing there, her shoe-button eyes blazing and her hawkish face distorted with rage, she raised the hand-mirror above her head to bring it down on her husband's buttocks again. But Ordway didn't wait for it to fall.
Pulling his withering cock out of Sugar's cunt with a wet plop, he jumped off the bed. He had the presence of mind to sweep up his trousers and shirt from one of the chairs as he bolted toward the door. He almost tore the door from its hinges as he got it open and dashed out into the corridor, with Mrs. Ordway hot on his heels.
The last thing Sugar remembered seeing as he went out the door, were his initials clearly and ironically emblazoned on his bare ass.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
For the next two days, Sugar neither saw nor received so much as phone call from Ordway. What happened after he dashed out of the apartment with his wife in close pursuit, she hadn't the faintest idea. She knew only one thing, if he didn't come back soon, she was going to be in one hell of a mess-living in an apartment that she couldn't even begin to pay for since she had no money to speak of and a car that wasn't even in her name. All of which meant, she didn't dare leave the apartment, not even to go to school, until she got some word from him.
It was shortly after midnight Friday, the third day following Sylvia Ordway's untimely visit to the apartment. Sugar had gone through an evening of watching TV, after which she undressed and put on one of her sheerest nighties. She had just turned out the light and gotten into bed-when she heard a key rattle in the front door.
She sat up sharply in bed, snapped on the lamp on the table beside the bed and waited breathlessly, her heart pounding until she saw Ordway come into the bedroom. He hurried to the bed and halted beside it.
His face was pale and drawn, and Sugar could see he didn't have his usual hard-on. She smoothed out a place beside her on the bed. "Sit down, darling. Tell me what happened."
He shook his head and moved back away from the bed as if it were on fire. "I can't stay. Sylvia's got the goddamn woods crawling with private investigators. Only way I could get up here, was pay the superintendent of the building to let me in through the basement and up the back stairs." He hurried around the bedroom, searching behind pictures, inside the lamp shades, back of the dresser, even under the bed and carpet.
"What is it, Cal?" Sugar asked anxiously.
"For all I know, she may have the whole fucking apartment bugged," Ordway said as he came back to the bed and accepted her offer to sit beside her. "But only for a few minutes. I've got to talk and talk fast before one of her goddamn gumshoes finds out I'm here and lets Sylvia know."
"I missed you," Sugar whispered, trying to placate his fears.
"And I missed you," he confessed. "Missed you so much I goddamn near went into the John last night and jacked off."
"Poor baby," she sympathized and placed a hand lightly on his thigh.
He jumped away from her and removed her hand from his leg with great reluctance, perspiration sprouting out all over his face. "Christ-don't do that! Please! Not that I don't want it-but if Sylvia ever found out."
She looked at him, puzzled. "You can't mean you're worried about her divorcing you?"
"That's exactly what I'm worried about."
"But you can't possibly love her."
"Love?" Ordway retorted with a grimace. "Who the hell said anything about love?"
"Then why-?"
Ordway took hold of Sugar's shoulders, fighting desperately to keep his eyes off her lightly covered tits and chestnut-brown pussy hair that crept out from beneath the bottom of her hiked-up nightie. "It's about time you understood a few of the facts," he said seriously. "When I first met Sylvia, I was pushing dress carts through New York's garment center. I might still be doing the same thing, if I hadn't married her. Her old man was one of the wheels in the garment industry. Had a fortune. It was his money that helped open our first dress shop back in the Bronx. His money that let us move out here and start De Moiselle Boutique.
"Sure, I'm the boss. I'm president of the company. But in small prints in all contracts, it says the business belongs to Sylvia. Every last share of it. That was the only way her old man would agree to back us. Which means that as long as Sylvia and I stay married, I'm loaded. Money, . property, cars-all mine. But the second either of us start talking divorce, I'll end up on the sidewalk holding my ass and nothing more. So if I hope to go on living in the style to which she's been keeping me, I've got to make sure Sylvia stays my wife."
"And me?"
Ordway studied her intently for several long moments, then he said, "I guess you know that during these past months that we've known each other, you've brought me an awful lot of happiness."
"I hope I have," Sugar whispered.
He nodded. "For which I figure I owe you something. I mean, after getting you used to a whole new way of life, it wouldn't be fair for me to just say good-bye and let it go at that."
Sugar kept searching his face, wondering what he had in his mind for her.
"Money and nice things must be very important to you, for you to have to put up with some of the things I've asked you to go through," he went on.
It was her turn to nod now.
He continued to hold her gaze intently. "I'm wondering just how important it is to you? I'm wondering what you'd do for a quarter of a million dollars?"
Sugar swallowed and blinked her eyes. "Did you say-a quarter of a million dollars?"
"On the barrelhead," he confirmed. "What would you do for that kind of money?"
"Anything!" Sugar blurted out.
"Anything?" he exacted.
"Anything short of stealing, or killing anyone," she modified.
"Does that mean anything in the sex line?" he wanted to know.
"Yes," she replied without hesitation.
"Good, because that's what you'll have to do," Ordway told her.
Sugar frowned. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
He smiled faintly. "I have a friend. Lives north of Beverly Hills, in Benedict Canyon. He's a multimillionaire. I play golf with him and he's done me a great number of favors. He has a standing offer-a quarter of a million dollars to any girl who'll live with him and do anything he asks-in the sex line."
"For how long?" Sugar asked.
"Six months," Ordway replied. "If she completes the order, fills the bill-she gets a check for the quarter-million. If not, he pays her off pro rata. Meanwhile, she'll live in the style of a millionaire. A style a lot better than I could ever hope to keep you in."
"His name?"
"Clyde Cummings."
While Sugar had no first-hand knowledge of the man, the name "Clyde Cummings" was not foreign to her. He was always popping up in the newspapers and on TV. Airplanes, movies, oil, art deals, politics and real-estate developments-he was involved profitably in all of them. As Sugar remembered, he'd had six or seven wives, each of whom he'd divorced with some stratospheric settlement.
Sugar couldn't help but wonder if this search for a "girl to do anything" could possibly be his way of finding wife number seven or eight, whichever the case might be. Not that she was particularly concerned with whether or not she ever became Mrs. Clyde Cummings. A quarter of a million dollars would suit her very nicely.
Sugar took a moment to consider and found it difficult to conceive of anything that Clyde Cummings might ask her to do that she hadn't already done with Yale, her uncle, Nick Damon or Cal Ordway, with whom she'd really run the gamut. Besides, as Ordway just told her, if the going got too rough for her, she could always walk out on the deal.
"Well, what's the answer,?" Ordway asked impatiently. "Think you'd like to try it?"
Very slowly and thoughtfully, Sugar wagged her head.
Ordway smiled broadly. "I thought you would. That's why I set up an appointment for you to meet Cummings at his place in the canyon. He'll send a car around for you tomorrow evening at about seven to pick you up and take you there. And I knew you're going to do me proud."
What Ordway neglected to tell her was that there was another clause to the deal. That anybody who sent Cummings a girl who was willing to try for the quarter of a million dollars would receive a ten-thousand-dollar bonus-if she was accepted. And another forty thousand if she lasted out the six months, which so far no girl had done. But Ordway didn't tell Sugar that, either.
Whether it was the thought of that windfall, or visualizing what Sugar might be in for when she met Cummings the following night, Ordway momentarily forgot all his good intentions and all fear of his wife. He pushed Sugar backward onto the bed, took out his cock and fed it to her hungry pussy for what they both knew full well would be the last time.
It was a big, black, chauffeur-driven limousine, and it came to call for Sugar at her Santa Monica apartment at exactly seven o'clock Saturday night. Ordway had told her to look provocative, so she put on the most recent addition to her wardrobe. An elegant, silver lame evening gown that clung to every swell and indenture of her curvaceous body. With a delicious d�colletage that showed off her voluptuous tits to within an inch or so of her nipples, Sugar was absolutely radiant.
Apparently accustomed to picking up young ladies and driving them to Cummings' place in the canyon, the chauffeur nevertheless paid due homage to her abundant charms as he showed her into the car. Then he got into the front seat behind the wheel and drove her in discreet silence to her destination.
Even though it was night and the mansion was hidden away from curious eyes in a rustic cul-de-sac, Sugar could see the splendor of the huge mansion. Located on a hillside above breathtaking Benedict Canyon, the estate covered several heavily wooded areas.
The locked wrought-iron gate that barred the uninvited from the spacious grounds opened for Sugar and the chauffeur as they approached it. Then they followed the winding driveway, flanked with overhanging trees and flowers, to the great stone main house in which Cummings lived.
A uniformed butler greeted Sugar at the front door with polite impassiveness and invited her inside. In her whole life, Sugar had never seen anything quite like the interior of the big house. Everything about it was costly impressive, from the massive cut-glass chandeliers that hung down from the sky-high ceiling to the pornographic original oils that adorned the sparkling marble walls. Case-hardened as Sugar may have imagined she had become, while waiting briefly for the butler to announce her arrival, some of the sex acts depicted in the paintings actually made her drop her eyes and blush.
It was with considerable relief that Sugar finally followed the butler into the library where he introduced her to the master of the sprawling estate, who arose from a massive leather chair to welcome her.
Sugar had seen photographs of Clyde Cummings in the newspapers, magazines and even on television. But this was the first time she had ever seen him in person. To say that she was impressed would have been putting it mildly. It would have been impossible for anyone not to be impressed by the striking figure he presented.
Somewhere in his mid-forties, Cummings was a tall man, somewhat over six feet with a lithe, slender figure, a ruggedly handsome face, silvered temples and a streak of platinum gray that ran through his crop of thick, black hair. His eyes, too, were penetratingly black and almost scarey. His upper lip was thinner than usual, the lower lip full and sensuous.
Apparently Cummings was pleased with what he saw, too, as his eyes appraised Sugar from the top of her lovely brown head to the toes of her spiked heels. When he had finished his appraisal, he smiled warmly and said, "Well, I see old Ordway finally came up with a winner ... in looks at least."
Sugar guessed that meant she wasn't the first girl whom Ordway had sent here to try for the quarter-of-a-million-dollar jackpot. But she made no comment.
Sugar very soon discovered that Cummings was a man of quick action. He didn't go in for subtleties or long, drawn-out preliminaries. Perhaps that was the secret to his tremendous success. As soon as the butler left them alone, Cummings got right to the point.
"Since we both know why you're here, Miss Kane, we may as well get right down to the business at hand," he said. "There's little point in wasting your time and mine-if you aren't qualified. Agreed?"
Sugar tensed a little and nodded her head.
"You appear to have a very beautiful body," he went on. "But most any woman would look good in a gown like the one you're wearing-so let's begin by taking it off."
Sugar hesitated a moment as she watched him return to the big leather chair and sit down facing her. Strange. After all the times she'd appeared naked in front of Ordway, his son, Nick Damon and even her uncle, Sugar had believed she had little or no modesty left. But it wasn't true. She was as bashful and jittery as she'd been that very first time she disrobed in front of Yale.
Cummings frowned disapprovingly at her hesitancy. "We aren't getting off to a very promising start, are we? A girl who's reluctant about even taking off her clothes can hardly be expected to begin to earn herself a quarter of a million dollars, can she?"
The mention of the money he was offering immediately shook Sugar out of the momentary freeze that had gripped her. She reached the zipper at the back of her gown, slid it open and worked the top down to her waist. She wore no bra, her jutting, pink-nippled breasts exposed to his lustful gaze.
He made no comment but beckoned her forward until she was within arm's length of him. Then he reached out and cupped her quivering tits in both hands. He lifted them, testing their weightiness and resiliency, fingering the nipples to hardness, causing her sensations that by now were all too familiar to her.
She fought to control herself, hoping that her body wouldn't betray her, until she found out whether he liked a girl who was so easily aroused, or one who took a while to warm up. When he was through handling her tits, she stepped back from him and continued to remove her gown. Ordway had cautioned her never to wear a garter belt under lame because of the unsightly bumps it made, which meant no stockings either. So that once the dress was off, all she had on was a pair of gossamer bikini panties and her tall heels.
"Leave on the heels, darling," Cummings told her. "A girl always looks more beautiful in shoes. But take off the panties. Okay?"
She obeyed and after his eyes roved her nudity, he brought her forward again to run a hand through her bush, then down between her legs and over her moist labia. He looked up at her with a faint smile.
"You excite easily, don't you?" he asked. He seemed to end every statement with a question. This question Sugar didn't bother to answer. She simply looked away and ran her tongue over her dry lips.
He reached behind her and put the flat of his hand on her bare buttocks, drawing her closer as his fingers worked their way into her spreading cunt. "You seem very young, darling. Exactly how old are you?"
"Eighteen."
"For sure?"
"For sure."
"I hope you're right. The laws are damned strict in this state," he said. "They'd just love to throw the book at somebody like me."
"I'm eighteen," she insisted.
He stood up, facing her. For the first time she noticed what a hard-on he had. She was sure it must have been the angle at which she was looking at it. Because it seemed abnormally large. No man possibly could be such a size, she told herself.
"Okay, let's get over to the divan," he said and led the way across the room to a sprawling, brown-leather-covered sofa that matched the huge easy chair he'd been sitting in. With no armrests or back, it stood against a floor-to-ceiling mirrored wall, in direct contrast to the other three walls laden with bookcases and mounted wild animal heads.
Instead of inviting her to sit down, he sat on the edge of the divan himself. His eyes traveled slowly upward over her nude body, drinking in some of the more interesting parts-her pubic hair glistening with the first hint of her passion, her nipples a glowing bright pink from his fingering, her mouth wet and partly open. Then his eyes flickered. He caught her eyes and let his gaze wander to his lap-to the throbbing lump concealed in his trousers.
"Get down on your knees and take it out," he told her.
Sugar wavered a moment. Then she remembered what he said about being shy and uncooperative. She dropped to her knees before him, a hand on each of his thighs. He still looked unusually big.
She took a deep breath to bolster her courage, then moved her hands slowly upward over his thighs to the throbbing bulge. She was amazed to find that he not only looked big, he was big. Frighteningly, yet fascinatingly big. She suddenly found herself curious to see what it looked like as her hands went for his fly and opened it. She slipped her right hand inside his trousers through the opening of his shorts and found his cock. It was hot and hard and seemed incredibly large.
She didn't try to ascertain just how big it was by measuring it with her fingers. Instead she used both hands to bring it out into the open. Then she stared down at it as if mesmerized.
It was a tremendous thing, twelve to fourteen inches long and fatter around than her wrist. The glans was still sheathed, peeking wet and redly out from the wrinkly opening in the foreskin.
"Suck it," she heard him say to her.
She glanced up at him, then dropped her eyes back to the leaking head of his cock. Her emotions were strangely confused. She was repulsed at the thought of what he told her to do, even though she'd done it with Yale and his father. At the same time an unexplainable excitement began bubbling inside her as she tried to imagine what it would be like to have her mouth filled with so much cock, what a tremendous, unforgettable experience it must be when a thing that size began to convulse and come.
She felt a blinding, building pressure in her loins, a simmering, expectant ecstasy in her cunt. Suddenly delirious with an excitement she didn't understand and wholly unmindful of what she was doing, she reached out and grasped the base of his throbbing dong in her fingers. Then greedily, like a great cat, Sugar rubbed the head of his cock against her cheek, closer and closer to her lips.
His pungent male odor and the heat of him started her moaning with anticipation. She couldn't be sure in her own mind whether the emotional excitement she was feeling was genuine or simply a buildup in her mind of wanting to please him. To qualify, as Ordway put it, by acting the way she thought he would want her to act.
She had never performed fellatio on a man who wasn't circumcised and she wasn't sure what to do. But instinctively, she pulled the foreskin all the way back until the bulging purplish knob slipped free. Sugar didn't have to ask what to do next. She opened her wet, red lips wide and swooped down on her enormous prey.
She thought her mouth would split as the great head of his cock slithered inside to lie throbbing wildly against her tongue. She glimpsed herself in the mirrored wall, as she had done with Yale, and saw her cheeks puffed out with his immense organ.
She heard him moan, then felt him grab handfuls of her long hair roughly, forcing her mouth into a deeper embrace. He kept her face locked there against his loins, jabbing into her mouth with short, deliberate thrusts.
Her head bobbed furiously, in the throes of a masochistic passion, her sharp teeth grating over the slippery surface of his cock. Her tongue curled around the juicy knob to lave the sensitive cleft on the underside, the way both Yale and his father had taught her.
Sugar could feel her own warm, sticky fluid running down the insides of her thighs. Her cunt ached for that fat hunk of throbbing meat in her mouth, but she knew by the sounds he was making and the gyrations his body was going through, it wasn't going to happen-yet.
A few moments later, in a long series of violent spasms, Cummings spewed forth his steaming load into her mouth. It was all-and more-than she thought it would be. It was all she could do to keep her fevered lips clinging to his pulsing cockhead, the spurts coming as fast as she could swallow.
What amazed her most of all was that after the gobs of sperm she sucked out of him, his cock remained hard. To her own secret delight, he lifted her onto the divan, took a moment to remove his trousers and shorts, then got back onto the divan atop her.
For a moment, Sugar panicked as she visualized the gargantuan dimensions of his prick and wondered if she could possibly accept him. Then she remembered she'd had the same fear about Yale, her uncle, Ordway and even Nick Damon, who fucked her in the ass. She guessed there must be some truth to the adaptability of the female body, because each time she had adjusted to their size. Same as she would adapt for Cummings now, stretch her cunt walls until she accepted him. But it proved to be not all that easy.
Cummings was inches bigger in every way than the average man, while Sugar was still just a teen-ager, little more than a child-woman. Experienced or not, she was still tight. She gasped, bucked and tried to retreat from the murderous kiss of his cock. But it obviously was an experience Cummings had gone through with every woman he had attempted to plow.
Clamping her hips forcefully in his strong hands, he gave Sugar no quarter. He pushed his outsized organ between the strangling walls of her cunt, applying a steady, agonizing pressure for her as well as for himself.
"Oh God!" she sobbed piteously, rolling her hips and pushing up at him with both hands. "Please stop! You must stop! I can't stand it! You're too big! You're killing me with that horrible thing!"
He paid no attention, pushing relentlessly deeper and deeper into her snug, unyielding cunt, seeming to get some sadistic pleasure out of hearing her cry out in pain. Was this what Ordway meant by "qualifying"? Was this why Cummings was offering a small fortune to any girl who could tolerate this torture for six months? She tried to close her mind to the pain. But it was impossible. The pain was too great. He was simply too big and she too small. And then all at once he stopped pushing and just lay atop her.
"You did it, sweetheart," he consoled her.
"Did it?" she asked dazedly.
"I bottomed."
She couldn't believe her ears. "You mean-you're all the way in?"
He rubbed against her and smiled. "My belly against yours. That means there isn't any more to give you."
Miracle of miracles. She had accepted all of him, every last inch of his prodigious cock. Whether she had blacked out the way she did that night with her uncle, she didn't know. But she could feel Cummings berthed within her, filling her cunt as it had never been filled before.
He lay there quietly atop her for several seconds, allowing for her to adjust still more. Then he began to move against her. She was still tight, excruciatingly tight, and the pain was still there. But it was nothing like it had been before. Then gradually as the fluid from his cock combined with juices of her pussy, her agony faded and her body became filled with delight. After that, it didn't take long. Due to the tightness of Sugar's wringing slit, he spilled quickly, his giant cock jarring her entire body with each round of white-hot sperm he shot into her, setting off her own orgasm that in its intensity threatened to tear mind and body apart.
Sugar lifted herself and clung to him until the last drop of his cum was inside her and she felt her own climax start to recede.
It was at that moment when she let go of him and he started to lift himself off her, that she saw his hand reach under the divan to press a tiny, hidden button. Then an incredible thing happened-the mirrored wall to the right of the divan suddenly became a blaze of light and what sounded like a roar of thunder burst forth, filling the library.
Sugar bolted up on the couch and stared into the sudden light dazedly. It took several moments for her eyes to become adjusted. Then to her profound horror she saw the sea of faces staring back at her. She shifted her gaze to Cummings in utter confusion.
He smiled as he sat there on the divan beside her, his cock hanging down soft and wet between his legs. Even in repose it was sizes larger than the average man's penis.
"I ... I don't understand?" Sugar managed.
"My guests," he told her simply. "Our audience."
"Audience?" Sugar echoed, horror-stricken as she searched in vain for something with which to cover herself, finally being forced to resort to her hands as she slid off the far side of the divan where those on the other side of the glass wall couldn't see her. "You mean they...they were watching us? Saw everything we did?"
Still smiling, he said, "Everything, darling. But more than that, they were sitting in judgment."
Sugar's head was reeling. "Judgment... of whom?"
"You, naturally. It's up to them to determine whether or not you're acceptable as a member of our group," Cummings explained unemotionally. "Because until you join the group, you can't hope to qualify for anything else." He turned away from Sugar and looked at their audience at the other side of the mirrored wall. "Well, what's your answer?" he called out. "Is she acceptable-yes or no?"
Instantly the library was filled with shouts of "yes" followed by another round of tumultuous applause.
Cummings reached down, took Sugar's hand and kissed it. Then with a smile he said, "Looks like you've been accepted-overwhelmingly."
Sugar was still in a mild state of shock. "But I ... I don't even know what kind of group I've been accepted into."
His smile spread across his ruggedly handsome face. "That's what you're about to find out," he told her and bade her to rise.
"But. . . I'm naked," she murmured, crossing her arms across her breasts.
"That's the order of dress, my darling," he told her enigmatically.
Then he stood up and pulled off the rest of his clothes until he was as naked as she.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Like anyone in a strange house for the first time, Sugar had no idea where Cummings was taking her, as he led her through several doors and a labyrinth of corridors. She knew only that it was an unusual experience to be walking with a man, both of them in the nude, his limp whang bouncing almost in rhythm with her beauteous big breasts.
It was even more startling when Sugar found herself in what looked like a huge, dimly lighted hall, where at least a couple of dozen people were gathered. There seemed to be an equal number of men and women of varying ages from very young to middle age-all of them as bare-ass as she and Cummings were.
Since everyone was drinking, somebody shoved a long-stemmed glass into Sugar's hand. Then, with an arm around her waist, fingers strategically placed just below her left tit, Cummings took her through the crowd, introducing her. These introductions like their attire were almost nonexistent. Only first names were used, and nobody asked or volunteered any further information about themselves.
It wasn't likely it would have made much of an impression on Sugar even if they had. In her present state, still suffering from the shock of everything happening so quickly, so unexpectedly and in such bizarre fashion, everyone in the half-light became just a part of a smear of leering faces, naked breasts and buttocks and diversified erections.
It was obvious to Sugar that none of these people were here for mere conversation, and as the liquor flowed more freely, the reason for the gathering became increasingly apparent.
Standing in the center of the floor with Sugar still beside him, Cummings called for attention. "Brothers...Sisters ..." he announced sonorously. "As usual on Saturday night, I've arranged a little entertainment for you-before we all get down to the business at hand."
Without further introduction, he pointed to a doorway off to one side of the hall, where a curtain parted and a startlingly attractive girl appeared, seated bareback and bare-assed astride a beautiful, all-white pure-blood Arabian stallion. The girl's long hair was white, too, as white as the stallion's long mane and tail. It covered her breasts and thighs but still left enough flesh exposed to show she was as naked as everyone else.
"I give you Lady Godiva-nineteen seventy-three!" Cummings declared. "She'll show you what really happened during her famous ride through Coventry."
Then with Sugar he moved aside as "Lady Godiva" rode her beautiful, sleek, white stallion to stage center. Pillows were strewn about on the floor, and the lights were adjusted so that the center of the hall was more illuminated than the fringes.
It didn't take Sugar, or anyone else in the crowd, very long to see what the blonde girl was up to. Extending her long, shapely, naked legs out stiffly at either side of the animal, she began posting and rubbing her uncovered pussy wildly back and forth against the horse's back until its sleek white coat glistened with her cunt juice. Simulated or not, she went through the contortions of three orgasms-stiffening, throwing back her platinum head, cupping and squeezing her tits together and moaning in her heat.
Satiation, however, was not her goal. She functioned in a completely opposite manner. The more orgasms she achieved, the greater her desire seemed to become. Again, it may have been only sham, but she carried it off with such conviction, it was impossible to tell.
Following her third climax, "Lady Godiva" slid down off the horse's back onto the floor. She swept back her long, sun-drenched hair to reveal her flawlessly formed, long-stemmed body. She stroked the animal's long silky mane, then ran a hand down over its withers, girth and suggestively over the underside of its belly.
Moving forward to the stallion's intelligent-looking head, she kissed it affectionately between its widespread eyes. Then she brushed her dangling, voluptuous tits against its velvety-soft muzzle, allowing the animal to lip her nipples, which it had been trained to do, without nipping or biting.
On command, the horse lowered its head until its muzzle was clenched between the girl's naked thighs. Then she threw both arms around its head and, clinging tightly to it, humped her way to still another orgasm.
Whether it was the heat and scent of the girl's pussy, or whether like everything else, it had been trained to react that way, the stallion's long, fat, red horse prick peeked from its casing and began to extend downward between its satiny-smooth white flanks. It was at this point that the blonde girl moved away from the stallion's head and began to crawl beneath its belly.
Sugar gasped with revulsion as she heard a man in the crowd cry out, "Boy oh boy, will you take a look at that cock!"
"What's she going to do with it?" somebody else wanted to know. "Suck it?"
"Or maybe fuck it," came from another.
Then a woman's voice sang out. "I envy her. Such a beautiful animal. Such a wonderful big tool. If she doesn't want it, I'll take it-gladly!"
Sugar was moved to a state of nausea at the mere thought of such a thing. She tried to turn her head away. But Cummings cupped her face and made her watch.
"It'll do you good," he insisted. "Maybe teach you a few new tricks?"
Sugar shuddered as she watched the blonde girl grasp the stallion's elongated, slippery, red prick in her two hands and begin to masturbate it. Was she really going to do what those in the crowd suggested?
The stallion's cock was fully extended now, dripping fluid as it tossed its head about and began to make fucking motions. The animal had not been trained to do this. This was the real McCoy-and small wonder. The blonde, now down on her knees, face upturned, was licking the length of the horse's brilliant cock. Then after a few swipes, she raised her mouth, lips open as wide as she could stretch them and let the long, fat, bright-red instrument slide into her mouth, slowly, only an inch or so at a time, until she had taken all of its length that she could manage.
The crowd went wild, shouting and screaming encouragement to the blonde girl to bring the stallion on, as she sucked passionately on the red prick.
Never in her life would Sugar have believed such a thing possible, that any woman could so completely lose her self-respect as to perform fellatio on an animal. She couldn't see, either, how anyone possibly could become excited watching such an act. But they did. Cocks were being sucked and couples were beginning to ball all around her.
The blonde girl's lips were already slick with the stallion's pre-come as the animal began hunching, driving his huge red whang in and out of her lovely mouth, stretching her jaws to the utmost. Finally she could take no more. She let go of the prick and dropped back onto the floor. The stallion went wild, his source of pleasure denied him. He began tossing his mane wildly, whinnying, pawing the ground with his front hooves and continuing to make humping movements.
Wiping the stallion's juice from her mouth with the back of her hand, the blonde girl turned her face to the crowd. "I need help," she called out. "I need a couple of strong men to help me."
Of the more than half a dozen volunteers who came forward, she selected the two more formidable-looking. On her instruction, they lifted her and with her legs opened wide apart, fitted the stallion's murderous-looking red cock into her gaping, drenched cunt.
It was a sight to make most any woman shiver. Sugar felt as if she could retch as she watched the horse's immense red rod enter the blonde's pussy. She guessed the girl must have been incredibly large to be able to accept such a gigantic organ-or else it was something the girl had gotten used to.
The moment the stallion was fitted inside her, the blonde wrapped both arms around its belly. Then with her legs still splayed, she instructed the two men to move her up and down to the beast's rhythm.
Here was a woman actually being fucked by a horse and from the expression on her face, enjoying it immensely. In fact, as the stallion continued to stab its great cock into her guts, the girl, with her head hanging limply and her long blonde hair touching the floor, seemed as much of an animal as the horse.
Suddenly she let out a scream, loud, piercing and half-crazed, as the stallion apparently reached its peak and came. Even as the sperm spurted out of him into her cunt to dribble in great gobs down between her thighs and splatter the floor, the animal continued to hump away at her.
"Enough!" the girl cried out finally, and the two men who'd been holding her pulled her down and away from the stallion and lowered her to the floor. She lay there shuddering, moaning, pushing down on her belly with both hands as if to ease the tremendous pressure the horse must have brought her.
The stallion, meantime, stood there looking bewildered, cock dripping, until an attendant appeared and led it away.
It was at this point that a couple of men, erotically stirred like everyone else-except Sugar-by the exhibition they'd just witnessed, grabbed Sugar and began dragging her away from Cummings' side. She called out to him, frantically, to help her. But he only turned his head to look at her, then laughed at her plight amusedly.
The two men carried Sugar to a darkened corner of the cavernous hall and placed her upon a bank of pillows. They began kissing and tonguing her all over her body, front and back, stroking and probing with their hands and fingers. She cried out in desperation. But no one heard her, or if they did, paid no attention. Because by this time, the party had turned into a full-scale orgy.
Everyone was involved, even "Lady Godiva" who had recovered from her sex-bout with the stallion to become a part of the great pile of flesh writhing on the floor, fucking, sucking, licking, buggering. A strange, eerie crescendo of obscene sounds filled the hall-wet, slurping, gasping, moaning.
Sugar, meantime, tried to fight off the two men who were working on her. But she was no more successful than she'd been with her mother and uncle that night before graduation. She had not the slightest idea who the two men were, what they even looked like. But one of them got behind her and held her down on her back atop him, while the other splayed her legs as wide as they'd open up, then spread the lips of her pussy and licked the soft, sopping flesh inside until she exploded in orgasm against his tongue.
Then she felt the man beneath her fitting his cock into her puckered asshole, while the other man got atop her and put his prick in the front hole where his tongue had been.
Sugar had stopped her struggling and her yelling. She saw it was no use, as the two of them began pumping in and out of her two holes as hard as they could, giving Sugar her first taste of a sex sandwich.
She had never experienced such a feeling. At first, it had been horrible, torture in every sense of the word. But her pussy was getting wetter and wetter, preparing it for the onslaught and her asshole, once it was properly stretched, didn't hurt any more than when Damon did her that way. The feel of the two cocks passing each other and rubbing her two passageways together on every stroke had her moaning and throwing her head around in a strange kind of delirious ecstasy. She began waving her arms, kicking her legs, looking like a rag doll between them.
The two men were panting, their naked bodies alive with energy and lust, drenching her with their sweat. The man behind her was the first to come. He filled Sugar's ass with the milky stuff. He left his shrinking cock in the hole, too, continuing to hold her atop him, not that it was any longer necessary for him to restrain her, while his friend continued to plug and unplug Sugar's gaping front hole.
Her loud groans and outcries had now become soft mutterings of pleasure as she felt her orgasm and his gradually approaching. She came first, quivering and shuddering but still not crying out. She had used up her voice.
She pushed her tits up hard against the chest of the man atop her as she peaked. He came, shooting his groin forward with a muffled scream. He pumped in and out frantically, licking at her neck and throat and shoulder noisily as she squeezed every last drop out of his cock with her cunt walls.
Reluctantly, he pulled back from Sugar and his cock came out of her tortured hole. The man beneath her let go of her and she began to crawl away from them. But she didn't get very far. Two other men had been watching and apparently liked what they saw. They grabbed her and began giving her the same treatment all over again. Only this time the two men decided to try it standing up, with Sugar sandwiched between them, suspended on their two pricks, her feet not touching the floor.
What new sensation this might have brought her, Sugar never found out. Because she wasn't around for the finish-at least not consciously. Somewhere between the insertion of the cock in her rectum and the one in her pussy, the stimulation became too great for her-and her senses took leave of the world of reality...
Again, as she'd done with her mother and uncle that night the two of them raped her, Sugar was oblivious to everything that happened following the menage a trois, until she awoke the next morning in bed. It took her several long moments before she could even begin to figure out where she was.
Then, as her thoughts began to gradually sort themselves out, she discovered she was in bed-the biggest bed she had ever seen in her whole life. She was lying on silk sheets, black silk sheets, top and bottom.
Everything suddenly came back to her in a torrent-coming to see Clyde Cummings in his incredible mansion...the session with him in the library...the audience watching from the other side of the mirrored wall...the naked crowd in the big hall...the blonde girl and the stallion...the two men who grabbed her. She sat up sharply and shook her head in bewilderment. Had those things really happened, or was it all just a part of a crazy, mixed-up dream?
"Good morning!"
The voice came from across the room. Sugar turned and saw Clyde Cummings standing in the open doorway that led in from the corridor. He was wearing a black satin robe and a white ascot that went nicely with his tanned face and silver-streaked hair.
"I'm glad you're awake, Sugar darling," he said as he stepped toward the bed. "You just have time for breakfast before services."
Sugar brought up one of the black silk sheets and held it under her chin, hiding her nakedness, as she frowned and asked, "Services? What services?"
"Religious services, darling," he replied. "Surely you didn't think we'd let Sunday pass without them?" He halted beside the bed for a moment, looking down at her. "Remarkable, I don't believe I've ever seen anyone look as lovely as you, first thing in the morning." He sat on the edge of the bed beside her and tugged gently at the sheet she was holding. "I want to make sure your body is as beautiful as I remembered, or if I just imagined it."
He gave another tug at the sheet and Sugar, remembering why she was there, let it go. He pulled it down to below her knees and scanned her nakedness with his eyes.
"Beautiful!" he exclaimed. "Just as beautiful as I remember it."
He ran a hand over her satin-smooth thighs, through her curly brown bush, then took hold of one of her tits and leaning into her brought it to his mouth. She felt the nipple tingle and grow rigid between his lips as he sucked hard on it. Then suddenly he drew back and looked down at the tit he'd been suckling in amazement. There, on tip of the nipple, was a pinpoint of chalky-white fluid. He raised his eyes to meet her gaze.
"Is that what I think it is?" he demanded.
She nodded. She guessed he hadn't sucked long enough on them last night to draw forth any milk. But he damn sure made up for it now. From one tit to the other his mouth went, sucking gluttonishly, until the nipples were bright red and every drop of secretion had been drained from them, at the same time awakening her passion to a point of readiness. She could see by the stiffness of his cock under his black robe that he was ready, too.
But instead of laying her, he got up from the bed and, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, said, "There'll be plenty of time for that after services. Right now you'd better get under the shower and I'll have breakfast sent up for you."
Sugar did as he told her. She showered in the sprawling bathroom that made the one at the apartment look like a backhouse. Then she put on a negligee, and when she returned to the bedroom, breakfast was waiting as Cummings promised.
She wasn't even halfway through the sumptuous breakfast that tasted delicious after her ordeal of last night when Cummings returned to the bedroom. He was still wearing the same black satin bathrobe.
"Ready, darling?" he asked her. "Services are about to begin."
"Give me a minute to get something on," she said as she started to move the tray with the remainder of her breakfast aside and get out of bed.
"What you're wearing will do very nicely," he told her.
She looked down at herself. The negligee was no more than a thin veil through which her breasts, her pubic hair and the rest of her anatomy was clearly visible.
"You mean-go to church services, like this?" she gasped.
He held up a cautioning hand. "I didn't say church services, darling. I said religious services."
To Sugar they both meant the same thing, and for the life of her she couldn't imagine what kind of "religious services" would permit anyone to attend in a robe like his and a negligee like the one she was wearing.
He came forward and took hold of her arm and led her out the door. They walked along the corridor, down the marble staircase into the foyer with all those obscene paintings looking down at them from within their gold frames. When they got downstairs, they went through a heavy door and followed another long corridor and down still another flight of stairs. These were rough stone steps that seemed to lead into what appeared to be the cellar, which led to still another door. A massive door behind which Sugar found at least a part of the answer to her puzzlement.
Because here, to all effects and purposes, was what appeared to be a chapel. But like no other chapel Sugar had ever seen before. It looked more like a grotto carved out of solid rock, with burning tapers on the wall to illuminate the place instead of electricity or even gas.
There were rows of rough-hewn pews filled with an assortment of people that looked like the group she met last night, all of them dressed the same way that she and Cummings were dressed, in negligees and robes. At the front end of the chapel was an altar and suspended directly behind it, instead of a cross or a star, was the huge replica of a phallus!
For a moment, Sugar felt her knees weaken and she was about to turn and run from the chapel. But Cummings had hold of her arm in a tight grip as he led her down the center aisle toward the altar.
Sugar kept her eyes focused on the huge phallus that must have measured at least twenty-five feet from tip to base. It was made of firm, flesh-colored latex rubber, and as she came closer to it, as near as she could remember, it was a duplicated enlargement of Cummings' own phallus. Exact in every detail, from the network of tiny veins to the roll of wrinkled foreskin to the half-exposed purple-blue glans and urethral crease. Sugar had to admit it was a masterful piece of work, as she continued along the aisle with him until they reached the altar. Then he turned to face the congregation. He raised his hands high above his head and muttered some kind of mumbo-jumbo. Everyone stood and stripped off their garments-including Cummings himself. As everyone else sat down, he glanced at Sugar and with a scowl instructed her to shed her negligee, too. There was little else she could do but obey.
What happened next was the stuff of nightmares. Incorporating phrases from orthodox prayers and sermons but twisting them to suit his own purpose, Cummings delivered a spiel about phalluses and vaginas and fertility and sex that was out and out sacrilegious.
Sugar, of course, had heard of phallus worship, of exalting the sexual organs. How it was still found among certain races of high culture around the world. How the penis and, in some instances, the vagina were considered sacred as the reproductive force in Nature.
It became obvious to her, as she listened to his sermon, that, whether or not Cummings sincerely believed in it, or whether it was merely a prelude to his sexual orgies, he had formed this religious cult. By the same token, she couldn't help but wonder about his followers, whether they truly believed in what he was preaching, or if they, too, found it a convenient excuse and coverup for their promiscuousness.
Whatever, she had to admit it all looked and sounded very convincing. What her part in all this was to be, she didn't know. She wondered if to obtain that quarter of a million dollars he was offering, she'd have to become one of his disciples, too. She wasn't sure she could be that good an actress. But if it became necessary, she most certainly would try to be convincing. That money meant a new life for her. Or else she never would have come here.
What astounded Sugar was that, as she stood at the altar with Cummings, looking out at the congregation, how many familiar faces she saw. Not people she actually knew. But people like Cummings, whose pictures she'd seen in the papers, in magazines and on the boob tube. Important businessmen, people high in politics, show business names, a biggie from the sports world. All of them highly respected pillars of the community. People she'd never dreamed would be mixed up in anything like this. Yet, there they were sitting before her, with their clothes and their masks off. Two of them, at least, who'd ravished her last night during the orgy.
Thankfully, Cummings' sermon was brief, but that by no means concluded the services. First of all, each of the female members of the audience had to come down to the front of the altar, kneel before him and kiss his penis, while he placed a hand on their head and gave them his blessings. A couple of the women became overzealous and gobbled his cock in their mouth and had to be pried away by a couple of "deacons".
Then Cummings asked if there were any new members who wished to join his religious family. Sugar was appalled when she saw a man stand up and bring forward his young daughter. She recognized him at once as having run for office in the last election. She wasn't sure whether it was for the city council or for the state assembly. But there was no doubt about it being the same man.
That, however, wasn't what shocked her so much. It was his daughter. She was very pretty with long auburn hair. She couldn't have been any more than fifteen. Her young body wasn't even fully developed, with tiny, lemon-shaped titties and a mons that had only begun to sprout a few wisps of reddish-bronze hair. Still, as Sugar took a second look around, there were other young girls in the congregation, too.
There was a brief question-and-answer session at the altar between Cummings and the girl and her father. Never taking his eyes off the girl's cute little tits all the time she was standing before him, Cummings wanted to know if the girl wished to join of her own volition, which both she and her father assured Cummings, she did. At which point, Cummings announced that, as the first step toward the girl's indoctrination into the cult, she must have intercourse with one of the congregation. Cummings, as much as he might have relished the assignment, knew that he'd murder the girl with a weapon his size. So he told her to make her own selection.
To Sugar's profound amazement, the girl chose her own father. But to everyone else, it seemed a natural, normal solution. Because, as Sugar learned later, incest was part and parcel of Cummings' sect. Brothers and sisters, mothers and sons, fathers and daughters-it was all one big, happy family. So to no one's wonderment except Sugar's, the pretty young thing with the auburn hair climbed up onto the altar, where she lay on her back, spread her legs and let her father make his entry. Except for a faint whimper when he broke her cherry, the girl lay perfectly still and silent until her father achieved his satisfaction.
That, however, still didn't complete the services. Since the ceremony that the young girl just performed with her father was restricted to virgins joining the cult, Cummings had another revelation waiting for Sugar. Her initiation, coupled with what happened last night, entailed something entirely different.
In the congregation, including Cummings and his two deacons, were fifteen men. They all lined up on the altar, where Sugar was told to get down on her knees and crawl from one to the other, performing fellatio on each of them. At first she reneged and said she couldn't do it. But then she thought of how much she could do with that two hundred fifty thousand dollars. She remembered hearing or reading, too, that Cleopatra once sucked off the entire senate at one session-and what Cleopatra could do, Sugar was sure she could do, also. So, without further reluctance or concern as to how degenerate it might be, she got down on her knees and sucked off the first cock...and the next...and the next...until she had finished with the entire fifteen.
Then, as she got to her feet with her jaws aching and her mouth tasting vile, she guessed that earning that quarter of a million dollars wasn't going to be as simple as she had imagined...and couldn't help but wonder what diabolical sex act he'd ask her to perform next.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When the weekend was over, Sugar did not return to her Santa Monica apartment. Instead, Cummings informed her that she would move into the big house in Benedict Canyon with him, to which she had no particular objections.
It wasn't until the weekend was past that Sugar had her first real opportunity to look at the place that would be her new home-at least temporarily. The sprawling stone house, she discovered, was, in every sense of the word, a palatial mansion, with more rooms than she could count on her fingers and toes. Each of the rooms furnished with such exquisite taste and meticulous care that they were small wonders in themselves.
The grounds outside were equally impressive, covering several acres of carefully manicured lawn and shrubs and trees of every variety. There were two outdoor swimming pools in the gardens, big enough for Olympic competition, while behind the big house was a parking lot large enough to accommodate more than fifty cars without crowding.
Right from that very first Monday that Sugar agreed to stay with him, Cummings began showering her with everything that a girl could possibly want. Clothes and jewelry that made Ordway look like a piker. He also gave her a weekly check for five thousand dollars as agreed upon, as incentive for her to stay with him. The balance to be paid to her at the end of six months if she completed her mission.
There was no question that she earned every penny of the money he paid her as her life became one endless succession of sex. Not the kind of sex she had known with Yale, or even with his father. This was depraved sex that ran the gamut of every perversion Cummings had ever read, or heard about, or fashioned in his warped brain.
Several times the going got so rough that Sugar didn't think she could take any more of his debauchery, that she had reached the point of saturation. But each time, she told herself that surely the worst part was over, that it was impossible for anything to be worse than the things she had already endured-so she stayed on.
Christmas came and passed, but it was little different than any of the previous weekends she had lived through in the big house. There were the same guests, the same depraved play, the same "religious" services that, by now, to Sugar had become a mockery.
For Christmas Cummings presented Sugar with her first genuine mink coat that cost a small fortune, because, as he told her, he was so pleased with the way she had adjusted. Sugar probably should have been thrilled. But somehow she was not. Because by this time, she had come awfully close to detesting the man who gave the coat to her and wanted nothing so much as to finish out the required six months and be free of him.
True, she had no one to blame except herself for the situation she was in. But never would she have believed that any man could possibly be so perverted.
The following weekend-that would include New Year's Eve-Cummings once again invited the followers of his cult to his canyon mansion for what he promised would be a New Year's Eve Party to end all parties. Everyone was invited, even those members who didn't attend regularly, and as an added incentive, they were told they could each bring a guest who might want to join his flock.
Cummings promised, too, that at midnight on New Year's Eve, he would have a very special surprise. He didn't give Sugar even the faintest inkling as to what the surprise might be, but she had an uncanny feeling that the surprise would include her.
As far as the New Year's Eve party itself was concerned, the only thing unusual about it was that it was a masquerade. Only no one wore a costume or clothing of any kind. All anyone had on was a mask to hide their faces.
To add to Sugar's apprehension that she was to be an important part of Cummings' "very special surprise," she was kept locked in her room throughout the entire evening. She was not permitted in the big hall where the party was being held, or allowed to meet any of the guests. When, shortly before midnight, Cummings' two faithful deacons came to fetch her, Sugar's fear soared to a new high.
Naked, she was led down the stairs and into the big hall. From what she could see of the bacchanalian revelry, it was little different from any of the other parties Cummings had held during her stay there. There were more people and, of course, there were the masks. Otherwise, it was the same sort of drunken, brawling, sex orgy.
Even after she got into the hall, Sugar was kept at a safe distance from the crowd, where no one could get to her. Then, as the big clock in the hall struck twelve-midnight and everyone began yelling and screaming "Happy New Year" and using it as an excuse for a display of sexual enthusiasm and exhibitionism, Cummings made his customary announcement for quiet.
When the noise died down, Sugar was led up onto a small, specially built, raised, curtained platform. This, Cummings told his audience, was the moment for the big surprise. The curtain was drawn, and to everyone's startled gaze, behind it was a huge cage-and inside the cage was a full-grown, male gorilla!
Sugar froze in mute terror at the sight of it, realizing only too well what Cummings intended for her. He was going to have her put into the cage with what obviously, by its unmistakable actions, was a sex-starved, manlike ape!
She turned to flee. But the two deacons grabbed her arms and held her securely and at a nod from Cummings began to drag her toward the door of the cage. She screamed hysterically and fought with every last ounce of strength in her body to try to get away. But escape was impossible. Then, as Cummings stepped forward to unlock the cage door-a figure suddenly materialized out of the crowd. Nude, as was everyone else, the man charged forward and onto the stage.
"Stop it!" he cried out. "Let her go!"
One of the deacons did just that and rushed forward at the man. But the man straight-armed the deacon in the face and sent him skittering backward, ass-over-head off the raised platform.
"What's the meaning of this?" Cummings demanded furiously as he came forward. "Who the hell are you?"
Even before Cummings asked him, the man had his mask half-off and said, "I'm Yale Ordway."
Sugar let out a squeal of amazement. "Yale!"
Cummings caught only the last name. "Ordway?" He raised his voice and screamed out into the crowd. "Ordway! Goddam you, Ordway! Come up here!"
Yale's father could be seen coming up the aisle, shoulders stooped, mask off and his face distorted with anguish.
"What the hell is this all about?" Cummings demanded, his face beet-red with rage. "Is this goddamn guy your son?"
Ordway wagged his head like a chastised child. "I didn't know it would turn out this way, Mr. Cummings. When he heard she was here and that you were throwing this New Year's Eve party and that as a member of the cult, I could bring along a guest, he wanted to come with me. Christ, I thought seeing her with his own eyes like this, finding out what she is, would make him never want to even look at her again. Jeez, I never knew he'd try to piss on the parade."
"Okay, okay," Cummings rumbled with great annoyance. "Now get him the hell out of here, so we can go on with the show."
"There isn't going to be any show," Yale cut in with sudden authority. "Not with her." He took a couple of steps to where the second of the two deacons was still holding Sugar. He barked, "Let her go!"
The deacon's eyes went from Yale to Cummings inquiringly.
Cummings considered a moment, then scowled and said, "Okay, let her go. She's not going anywhere."
Yale stepped up to Sugar. From his expression, he wasn't aware for the instant whether or not she was naked. All he saw was her face, her eyes, her mouth. He held out his arms to her.
Sugar hesitated for only a split-second, then rushed forward into his arms and clung to him as he hugged her close to him. She didn't care that he'd run out on her. She didn't care about anything else in the world, except that he had come back to her. That he'd dared all these people, to save her.
He kissed her, and as he continued to hold her trembling body close to his, he whispered so that only she could hear. "You must think I'm a lousy bastard for what I did to you. But I didn't know it would turn out the way it did. That night of the graduation, my mother and father told me that if I didn't leave the country, that if I even dared try to see you again, they'd put you away in prison on a moral's charge, as a juvenile delinquent. I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want to leave you, Sugar baby. But I wasn't of age, either, and I had no money. So I had to do as they said. But I had no idea of the heartache I'd caused you. Had no idea of what my father did to you, or that he arranged for you to come here. I didn't find out until I came home for the Christmas holidays. Then I looked for you. I searched everywhere. Until finally my father broke down and told me the whole story and where you were."
He wrapped an arm protectively around her and started to lead her away.
"Wait one minute!" Cummings called after them. Then he looked down hard at Sugar as she faced him. "You sure you want to go with him?"
She nodded without hesitation.
"And give up a quarter of a million dollars?" Cummings reminded her. "The worst part of the deal, you know, is over. From here on in, it would be a breeze for you."
Sugar glanced at the cage.
Cummings laughed harshly. "That was a gag. I never would have let you go in there. I just wanted to test you, see if you really would."
Sugar wasn't altogether sure she believed him. Not that it mattered. As long as Yale was here with her, nothing mattered. They started to go again.
"Wait," Cummings called out to her again. "I've got a better proposition." He hesitated to make sure he had her full attention, then added, "I'll make you Mrs. Clyde Cummings."
Before she could start to shake her head, Yale cut in and said, "I think Mrs. Yale Ordway is going to fit her a lot better."
"Yale-no!" his father yelled in horror at the thought of her as his daughter-in-law.
Yale looked down at him censuringly. "I think you've said and done quite enough, don't you?"
"I'm thinking about your mother," Ordway perspired. "What'll your mother say?"
"Frankly, I don't give a damn what either of you say, or do," Yale retorted.
"But I can say and do plenty!" Cummings inserted.
Yale regarded him with mild contempt. "I wonder?"
He cast his gaze out at the crowd, some of whom were listening, but most of whom had lost interest and gone back to their drunken orgy. "All this'd make a pretty juicy scandal."
"Who'd listen?" Cummings disparaged. "Who'd take your word against the word of a man like me?"
Yale smiled amusedly. "I'm afraid you don't read the sports page very thoroughly, Mr. Cummings. If you did, you'd know that I've just been awarded the Heisman Trophy. Which means that right at the moment, I'm pretty hot copy. The news media'd be interested in just about anything I'd have to say, right now-about football or any other subject."
His father made one final, desperate appeal to Yale to try to change his mind. "The boutique, Yale. Your mother'll disown you for sure. She'll never let you take over the business."
Yale looked down at his father unemotionally. "That's kind of tough. But right after I was awarded the trophy, I signed with the New York Jets. I didn't tell you, because I wanted it to be a New Year's surprise. Well, it's New Year's and now you know that I have an idea I'm going to be able to take care of a wife very nicely-without any dress business."
With that, he and Sugar turned once more, stepped down from the platform and walked out of the big hall. When they got into the corridor, Yale halted, put his arms around her and kissed her-and they both became suddenly aware of how naked they were.
"I wish we could go some place where we could be alone," he whispered.
She looked up at him and smiled as she rubbed her tummy deliciously against his hardness. She only hoped that he still had the key to the back door of the boutique, because that little dressing room had a very special place in her heart. Not only that, she could look into the mirrored walls and see a hundred and one Yales making love to her all at the same time. That and that alone would compensate for all those agonizing months she'd been without him.
