Don't think you are going to conceal thoughts by concealing evidence that they ever existed. Don't be afraid ... to read every book. ... People who hold unpopular ideas are still part of America, and even if they have ideas that are contrary to our own, they have a right to have them, a right to record them, and a right to have them in places where they are accessible to others. This must be unquestioned, or it is not America.
Dwight D. Eisenhower Dartmouth College June 14,1953
If you're going to kill somebody, make sure he doesn't have any connections.
-Slaughter House Five-
CHAPTER ONE
They came into town on their bikes. They really didn't like bikes, although they liked the feel of the hot metal between their legs and the thrill of death promised by the speeding pavement. Riding high up on the seat was like coming. But it was wet shit when it rained, plus the wagon-drivers were out to kill them with the dumbness of their driving.
The town spread below them in the valley and there was a layer of smog hiding the peaks of the hills.
"Looks the same," Carter drawled, hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his dirty jeans.
"It's gonna be different," Leonard answered. "It ain't never gonna be the same." He rubbed his cock absently and licked his thin, tight lips.
Morrow, the third member of the trio, didn't say anything. He gunned his Indian, sprayed sand getting back on the highway, then dropped down the hill. Sunday wouldn't last all day, and he couldn't wait.
Behind him Carter and Leonard grinned at each other. It was going to be a good day.
Reverend Pike preached his sermon as he preached it every Sunday. He ignored the loud belch in the front row and the leather-jacketed ape scratching his hairy belly. The Reverend's whole life was filled with references about the care and feeding of strangers. The door was open. Wayfarers could come in any time. He wished this species didn't exist. But it was the Lord's doing. Just as two years ago it had been the Lord's doing. But then he had acted for the Lord and brought proper punishment to the hippie infidels who held nothing sacred and polluted the earth wherever they trod.
He was making his rounds then, visiting the sick and the old who couldn't attend services; as he did every Sunday after service, and all Sunday night until the wee hours of the morning. He had stopped at Luke Bephry's service station and, when no one was there, he had gone out back to the cabin that Luke sometimes rented to travelers. The Reverend would make a benediction and wish them well and sometimes collect a little something that gave Harriet a few pennis extra for the table.
There was a nest of motorbikes in front of the door, and when he knocked, a booming voice told him to come to hell in. His face flamed, and anger made him rigid as a birch tree. He pushed open the door and entered, the wrath of Jehovah on his face. Strangers or not, the Lord's name should never be taken in vain, the day of rest blasphemed.
A naked girl lay facedown on the rumpled bed. Her fists clutched at a pillow, her long hair fanned in a blonde halo. There were tattoo marks on the cheeks of her gyrating buttocks. It said FUCK. On the right cheek it said YOU.
A giant of a youth was pulling off oil-crusted Levis, yelling, "Man, I fucks her next!"
"Hmmmm, what?" the girl murmured, as Reverend Pike shouted, "What goes on here!"
The youth had his Levis skimmed off. He threw them backward toward the Reverend's startled eyes, and curled up beside the girl, spoon-fashion, and let his cock crawl lazily into the white and red crack of her ass.
It was then Reverend Pike noticed a second boy. He sat cross-legged on the floor, naked, with just a dirty-brown cigarette between his fingers. He was contemplating his collapsed cock and shaking his head sadly.
And then there was a third boy, stretched between two girls. They were naked too. This boy was tonguing the pussy of one, while the other girl fellated his giant prick. The girl who was being sucked, crooned deep in her throat and seemed to be begging the pot-smoking youth to eat her cunt.
The fellating girl purred like a kitten with a saucerful of milk. Her wet tongue lapped vigorously on the balls that were suspended below the giant cock.
Reverend Pike shouted again, but he didn't remember what he shouted. The scene etched itself in his brain, framed by the low rays of the afternoon sun streaming through the dirty windowpane. He remembered the sounds of birds twittering and flitting through the branches of a tree scraping the roof of the cabin.
The heathen girl on the bed bounced with the prick that stabbed into her open body. She was up on her knees as if praying, and the white, spread globes of her ass were an invitation for the whole world to enter.
"Oooh, do it to me!" she moaned.
The youth brought his hands under her belly and clasped her dangling breasts and squeezed them in rhythm with his hulking pelvis. The Reverend saw him slide out his brown roll of cock and then slide it back in again. He took it out to the tip, let it quiver in the air, and then slammed it back in the mucous cunt to the balls, which mashed against the flaying ass as the hips behind them sought to push them into the same hole with the prick.
There was a two-by-four bed slat leaning against the wall. The Reverend reached for it. He brought it down on the head of the Missouri blonde, who was now licking the inside thighs of the boy with the big cock. Then he smashed it across the small of the boy's back, and stabbed it into the hole of the second pussy that was left bare when the boy's head flew back in anguish from the blow.
The Reverend, wild with fury, swung the two-by-four beam against the face of the boy idly smoking the reefer, and than began beating unmercifully on the couple fucking on the bed.
He would have massacred them all, but as the wood slapped and beat and gouged the naked flesh,, as it richocheted from thighs and buttocks, bounced against swinging breasts and pricks, and gashed open glistening skin in jagged rents, the Reverend's own penis grew hard and long. His own heavy breathing choked him, and his legs trembled with the beginning of an orgasm he wanted to feel nowhere except in Harriet's bed. And not even there.
He stopped suddenly, feeling the hot semen gush from his gonads and make a sticky pool in the matted hairs of his belly. Then he walked back to Luke's station and called the Sheriff.
The County held them ninety days before putting them on trial, and then gave them six months more in the House of Correction ... for everything, from disturbing the peace to sodomy. Reverend Pike was incensed because they didn't get six years.
Only one girl of the three was a local girl. She was the girl being sucked, who begged the pot-smoking boy to eat her. She was Luke Bephry's wife. The Reverend didn't understand why he didn't recognize her. And then he did understand. It was Luke Bephry who didn't understand. He didn't sell the station. He just left it ... unboarded, unlocked, with gasoline still in the tanks. Motorists helped themselves until it all ran out.
. When the Reverend herded out the sextet for the Sheriff, the door was left open. It sagged on one hinge. Cobwebs filled the frame, except at the bottom, where the dogs and cats went in and out, to shit and piss where people had fucked and sucked before.
This Sunday the trio had passed it on their way to the church.
After a year, the Reverend didn't recognize them. Anyway, only Leonard went into the church. He wanted to make sure the Reverend's routine was the same as before. Nothing had changed. All changes to be made would be made by them.
CHAPTER TWO
It was Morrow who remembered Reverend Pike's wife. Morrow liked to go to church, and he had gone that Sunday over nine months ago. The others had been dropping acid back in that motel-cabin, and taking turns with Betty-Lou and Sally-Ann.
"Go get your own pussy," they laughed. The best place for getting rose-fresh cunt was at church. He had learned that when he was still a little shaver. Now it was even better. There skirts were shorter and the necklines dipped lower. Even when they were wearing more to church, than they wore every day, it was now less than what they used to wear every day. And they felt so holy in church, so close to God. They especially liked it when they got fucked under the pew; then it was like being fucked by God, and there's nothing that feels better than that.
Only this church was filled with old men and old ladies. There were some little kids, but he wanted some real fuck stuff. The only one who looked the right age was the preacher himself. Carter would dig that, Morrow chuckled to himself, then socially asked the old farmer on his right which lady was the preacher's wife.
The farmer looked sad. "She don't come to church," he whispered. "We come and pray for Reverend Pike."
Morrow had a mental image of a sick, spavined female lying on a daybed waiting for the Reverend to come home from his church duties and tell her all about who showed up and who didn't, who prayed for her and who didn't, who was fucking who and who wasn't.
His prick felt as heavy as a club in his denims, and he climbed out of the pew and got the hell out of the wooden-framed church. Everything in town was closed, so he stopped back at the gas station to see if the old duffer who ran it didn't have a six-pack somewhere.
Only the old duffer who ran it was still in church. His wife said so. She looked about twelve. She admitted later to being eighteen. She said the only six-pack she had was her own.
"How come you ain't in church?" Morrow queried.
She giggled. Then she laughed. "It's for old farts," she said. "They go to church and pray for our souls-all us young wives who can't have babies yet."
Morrow leaned on the counter and ran a horny finger across the girl's cotton-covered breasts. "You telling me the men in this town don't fuck?"
"The men in this town are too old."
"What happened to the young ones?" His finger traced the skin of her breast valley and poked behind the taut cotton.
"They're in Indianapolis and Chicago. I hear some of 'em work in St. Louis and down in Atlanta." She pushed up her bosom, and then used her two hands to squeeze them together and lock Morrow's finger in the middle. "But I got me a meal ticket."
"Now if you can get yourself some fucking, you got it made, right?"
"I got my ways," Mrs. Bephry said. "I'm not like that dried-up Reverend's wife."
"With all the young ones in town, he had to bring in an old bag, huh?" Morrow asked, as he used his other hand to trace a line down the girl's stomach to the counter top. She moved back so his hand could go below the counter. Then she leaned in, so she locked his hand in her crotch.
She laughed again. "Now you ain't got nothin' to work with except your tongue."
Morrow stuck his tongue in her ear and she squealed.
"How come you ain't getting it from him?" he asked. "He's got to be getting his pussy somewhere."
"Oh, shit, she don't give him a chance."
"I thought you said she was an old lady."
"She must be thirty-thirty-five, at least. But don't you know that that's when women's the hottest?"
"I like 'em hot at twelve."
"Well, I'm eighteen."
"Too old for me."
"Wanna bet?"
"What we gonna bet?"
"A six-pack."
"Shit. Let's bet us some pussy."
"Uh-uh."
"Whadayamean uh-uh?"
"I mean you got your pussy in the cabin. Better get all y'can afore Luke gets back."
"He knows we're in there. We rented from him."
"He thinks your married." H.
"Two gals and three guys-and one a half-nigger?"
"He wants the money-just don't come on strong and he'll believe anything just so you pay in advance."
"Then come back there with me while he's gone."
"With that half-nigger? Not on your life."
"I'm a half-nigger too."
"Then you sure ain't gettin' any from me."
"If I was all white, then you'd put out for me, right?"
"I'd think about it."
"Then think fast, because I got the whitest cock you ever did see."
"You're not fibbin'?"
"Want me to show you?"
"I'll see for m'self."
She leaned across the counter. Morrow delved both hands behind the cotton of her dress and palmed the titty-sweet orbs that felt like thin-skinned tomatoes in his hands. The eighteen-year-old Mrs. Bephry opened his denims, button by button. She inserted a hot hand and groped for the rise that she saw appear up to the beltline. Morrow didn't wear shorts-Southern boys never wear shorts-and she used both hands to get a well-practiced hold on the stiff cock. She held the top cupped in her right hand and stroked down the shaft to his balls with her left. She giggled. "Man, I'm horny and you're big and my cunt's color-blind anyway!"
"Come on," Morrow said huskily, "Let's do it."
She held onto his prick and began jerking it off, rubbing the loose foreskin up and down over the hard, bullet-shaped head.
He said, "AHHH . ... HHGGG ... HUMPH!" and lifted himself over the counter. She held onto him all the way. There was a short, three-legged stool for reaching oil cans on the upper shelves, and Mrs. Bephry immediately put one foot up on it. She held onto Morrow's prick like a club, then guided it under her skirt to her warm, dry cunt.
Then she let go with one hand, and used it to part the pubic hairs and place the head of Morrow's cock between the wet lips.
"Push it in," she gasped. "Push it in far!"
He felt the young pussy snap tight over the hard, swollen knob. He braced his feet wide and grasped her round, quivering buttocks in the palms of his two, big hands and shoved his prick up her cunt.
Supported by his hands on her ass and her own arms around his neck, she lifted her legs from the floor and swung them around his hips. She locked her ankles on the flat of his ass, until he nudged her closer; then she let her pussy climb up on the shaft till she had him locked with the calves of her muscular legs.
It was like being sucked in by a pail full of oysters. The big one at the bottom was all mouth that lipped the head of his cock and dug its tiny tongue into his quarter-inch slit. He could feel the walls of her cunt ripple with hungry spasms.
He turned the prick gently at first, screwing with his hips, without moving the prick up and back; so it swung in an arc and burrowed a hot furrow through the steaming meat of her vagina.
Then she began to rotate her hips too, but she moved in the opposite direction so that the friction she sent up his shaft carried waves of heat to his asshole. He tried not to change his motion but his pelvis, on signal from his balls, began undulating, and his prick began slipping forward and back like a greased piston.
"Uuhggg, you're good!" she grunted, and joined him in the forward and back movement. His prick puffed up like an adder and her cunt squeezed down like a vise. Then to keep it right on that thin, hairline of orgasm, they rocked in the same direction together.
For the first time, her mouth came against his. For the first time, they kissed. Their tongues sucked together deep in the caverns of their throats. He whipped the snake around, over, and under, and behind her teeth; she yelped and he groaned. He pulled his head away and buried his face in her neck and began humping opposite to her hump again. His pelvis up against the soft moss of her pussy goaded his balls into a frenzy.
"Oh-oh-oh!" she moaned. She gasped. She came. Her silky body stiffened in his arms. Her legs jabbed out straight. Her hips spasmed like an epileptic. Her foam-flecked lips chewed at the air as her head rolled back. Her pussy contracted in short jolts.
Morrow's prick remained hard as glass, until Mrs. Bephry came three or four times in fast succession.
The last one shattered his stem, and his load spewed out in short, punchy spurts. Each was an electric buzzer that snapped his cock and cracked his asshole, and he knew he had never had so good a fuck since he had shagged his sister.
And he did it right here in this one-room gas station, in front of this one-room cabin, with a brick shit-house, hill-country gal, who couldn't get enough from her old man who was sitting in church this very minute, praying.
Neither one of them ever learned what he was praying for. But whatever it was he was praying for, it was Morrow who was getting it.
They served every day of their sentence. Even Mrs. Bephry. The country court was willing to entertain the idea that she was overwhelmed by bike bums, and if Reverend Pike was willing to stretch a point in his eyewitness account, they could have charged rape. But in his desire for vengeance, Mrs. Bephry was identified for what she was. The only item of satisfaction lay in the fact that if he had identified rape, and exonerated her, the cyclists would be in the pen yet. But like all guilty men who see someone else's hard cock churning a biting cunt into jelly, he cut off his balls to spite his prick.
He doesn't know that yet, Morrow thought, but he's going to find out. Now.
And like Leonard and Carter, it wasn't the charge that concerned him; it was the Reverend's beating with a two-by-four while he played God that burned their asses. If they hadn't dropped acid and blown pot, he never would have scored that day.
Now they were here to settle the score ... exactly the way Reverend Pike would understand.
CHAPTER THREE
Harriet Pike, garden spade in hand, perspired over her roses. Her thin dress clung to her hips and outlined her bust and the swollen mound of her pubes. She tugged the material delicately from between her legs, and let her fingers scratch the crinkly hair.
She loved the feel of the spade handle in the palm of her hand. It was long and hard and smooth to the touch. She held the small tool in front of her face and spoke to it.
"You cause me trouble, you know. I look forward to holding you in my hand every day and making you do what I want you to."
She giggled, and then hurriedly sank the tool back into the earth. She loved the sight of it pumping into the crusty earth. She churned it into the earth, twisted and turned it so that it bored a smooth, deep hole. She laughed. She thought she heard the earth laughing back. She paused, but heard only the natural sounds of the wind.
"Ridiculous," she said aloud.
She continued with slower, swirling strokes. Each time she shoved downward, she felt her own bottom open up. She had seen farm horses open their vaginas that way. They discharged in white, sticky streams.
She would have to stop. The Sabbath was no day for such thoughts. She straightened, and ran the back of her hand across her wet brow. She fought the desire to run her hand through the damp mat between her legs.
"Never!" she said, "Never!" and promised herself a penance as soon as she got in the house.
Yet, she had the feeling she was not alone. The back door, only yards from the rose garden, seemed miles in the distance. She turned to it, looking neither right nor left.
Harriet's life had taken a definite turn when she was ten. She lived in a small town in Massachusetts, just outside Boston. Yet her family was the only "New England," Yankee type around. They were flanked on one side by the Irish, on the other by the Italians.
The Irish boys used to sneer at her, expose their private parts, and call her a "fucker." The Italian boys used to circle their thumb and forefinger on one hand and run the index finger of their other hand through it. They also called her a "fucker."
The other girls, both Irish and Italian, told her what a fucker was. They told her that her mother and father did it too, which brought highly vocal denials, although she wasn't sure what she was denying.
She asked her mother, whose face flamed with the question. Her mother told her not to play with dirty children anymore. There wasn't anybody else to play with. So she hung out at a neighbor's house all day so her mother would think she had found someone to play with who wasn't dirty and nasty.
The neighbor was a World War II veteran who rolled around in a wheelchair all day. He was flattered by Harriet's attention and spent hours talking to her.
Mostly he asked questions. He wanted to know what her father and mother did together. She told him they went on picnics and sometimes to the zoo and sometimes to the beach.
That isn't what he wanted to know.
He wanted to know if her father kissed her mother a lot. He wanted to know how he kissed her. He told her that she had to keep up her end of the conversation so she should watch her mother and father closely and let him know what they did to each other. It was their secret so they would have something to talk about later.
She watched closely and saw how, when her daddy came home, he kissed her mother on the cheek and gave an absent pat to her bottom and went into the living room to watch the news on TV.
Her neighbor, Mr. Jamieson-Steve Jamieson, that was his name-was disappointed in her report. She hadn't related the absent pat to her mother's bouncy ass until Mr. Jamieson weedled it out of her.
"He rubbed her toushy" she said, and her face flamed like her mother's.
"Good, good," Mr. Jamieson agreed. "Then what?"
"Then he watched TV and had dinner and fell asleep."
"Then, then?"
"Then I went to sleep."
Mr. Jamieson patiently explained how she didn't watch the best part. So Harriet vowed to stay up and see if anything happened after that. Mr. Jamieson seemed to be very disappointed when Harriet reported the same thing every day. Sometimes he became extremely agitated. Harriet vowed to stay up all night, if she had to, to make Mr. Jamieson talk happy with her again. Otherwise she wouldn't have any place to go all day.
She tried to stay awake. The blaring of the TV helped. And the noise from the dishwasher and the toilet flushing did too, because her mommy and daddy always went potty before going to bed. But she fell asleep anyway.
She usually woke up once in the middle of the night to go potty herself. This time she returned to bed sleepily as usual, and nearly closed her eyes again, when she suddenly remembered her promise. It brought her fast awake.
She got out of bed and went down the hall to her parents' bedroom. The door was open, which was unusual, so she went in quietly. But nobody was there. She went back in the hall and could see it was dark everywhere.
Maybe they both fell asleep in front of the TV set. She went down the hall toward the living room. Then she heard heavy, hard breathing, and she stopped. It sounded like her mommy was sick or something. She was gasping and grunting. No, it was her father grunting. He sounded almost like he was snoring. But the TV was off. She peeked into the room, but she could see nothing.
Panicky, she called, "Mommy? Daddy?"
The gasps and the grunts stopped.
Her daddy's voice was almost like a gun in her ear. He said, "Harriet! To bed. Now!"
Her mother said, "Harriet, you're supposed to be asleep." Her mother's voice was unusually soft and she didn't sound angry or anything. But her father made up for it. He ordered her back to bed and warned her about the bogey man. Her mother said, in that sweet, soft voice, "Charles, for Heaven's sake!"
"Get in bed, dammit!" her father yelled again, so she scampered back to bed.
She related it to Mr. Jamieson exactly as it had occurred. She had learned that much from him, not to leave out the tiniest detail.
He was elated.
"But what did you see? What did you see?"
She told him she saw nothing, and he was disappointed again. But not for long. He took Harriet on his knees in the wheelchair and bounced her bottom in his lap. "Does it make your toushy feel good?" he said.
Harriet told him it made her dizzy, so he finally put her down.
"Watch again," he said. "Tonight maybe. See what they're doing."
"Are they fuckers?" Harriet asked.
Mr. Jamieson's eyes bugged out; then he grinned. "Probably," he told her. "But let's find out for sure."
Harriet promised.
She didn't find out that night, nor the next. Mr. Jamieson said, "Let's see, that was Sunday. Next Sunday night," he said, "Yes, sir, that's it. Next Sunday night you stay up again. I bet you can watch the fuckers all night."
Harriet giggled.
Sure enough, Mr. Jamieson was right.
First her mother and daddy wrestled, just like on television. They kissed a lot too. Not that peck-on-the-cheek stuff, though. Her daddy opened his mouth like he was going to cough. Her mother did too. They crawled into each other's throats.
Daddy had soft brown eyes and soft brown hair and a gentle nature. This mouse of a man tore at her mother like a lion. He pulled her naked legs at the ankles and slid her up his hairy legs until her ass rested on his chin. He grabbed at the floppy pillows of her ass and shoved her hair-matted cunt to his voracious mouth. His lips delved for her clitoris. His tongue probed for her hot bud, found it, and sucked wildly on the stiffened sliver of meat, like a hungry dog.
Mommy knew how to arch her back and scissor her legs over Daddy's head so his face never lost contact with her hot bush. She gave a loud, soul-tearing sigh and flipped over, so that her belly rested on Daddy's knees and her tits rubbed furiously on his hairy shins. Then she squirmed backward so that Daddy's head disappeared between her legs, and his big, round, rigid cock disappeared inside her open mouth.
Harriet described it in her words, and Mr. Jamieson beat a tattoo on the arms of his wheelchair and yelled, "A sixty-nine! Son-of-a-bitch, they sixty-nine!"
Daddy's tongue licked the long seam that joined Mommy's legs. The tongue trailed from her cunt into her asshole. Mommy farted in his face. Daddy laughed, rocked her cunt all over his face and humped his ass and drove his prick deep into Mommy's throat. Mommy choked and raised her head and said, "Let's do it."
Her father shook his head like a shaggy bear, rolled Mommy off him, and came right up on her between her legs.
Her mother's legs were fat and heavy, but she lifted them like feathers and wrapped them around Daddy's back. She brought one hand down to guide the hungry prick-head between her turgid cunt-lips, and then cupped her two hands behind Daddy's neck and squealed.
Her father braced his feet against the wall behind him and shoved his body forward and down. Then he rose up in the air like an erupting mountain, and plunged downward like a ship at sea, slapping his balls again and again up against the outer walls of the thick cunt beating beneath him.
"Hot juice!" Mommy hissed. "Hot juice, baby!" and powerful contractions squeezed the pumping prick. Her father's loaded balls popped like corn, and gushed a ribbon of semen that was caught by her mother's rubber diaphragm, to be washed in the toilet later and hung up in the shower to dry.
Daddy's ox-like thighs trembled terribly and his ass curved under and his fists pounded into the thick carpet and his chest went, "Uuhhhh, uuhhhh, uuhhh...." as Mommy's legs relaxed and spread wide and let Daddy crawl out and stretch on the floor and fall asleep without even getting into bed.
Mr. Jamieson's ecstatic pleasure in the eyewitness account of the carnal relations, stirred something in Harriet's soul. She had been fearful watching her parents. She felt frightened talking about it to Mr. Jamieson, even though that's why she had watched. But now some of Mr. Jamieson's delight transferred itself to her.
She felt positively aglow in seeing the happiness she brought to Mr. Jamieson. His happiness was her happiness, and a giddy warmth swept through her tiny body, and she hoped Mr. Jamieson would take her on his lap again and warm her toushy.
But Mr. Jamieson's eyes were glazed and his tongue hung wet from his mouth. He made her repeat the scene over and over, and what she hadn't really seen, he explained; so the next time she repeated the story, she incorporated Mr. Jamieson's corrections, and the story got better and better. Mr. Jamieson enjoyed it more and more.
He had his pants open and his fingers were tugging at a wrinkle of flesh that was nothing like the giant organ her father had pushed at her mother. But it came hard in Mr. Jamieson's hand, and stuck up and forward like the little finger on his bucking hand. He kept pulling it and pulling it and pulling it and pulling it; and then it got all red and then all white, except for the top; and then a bubble of white cream oozed out of the top and jumped into the air and then dribbled into Mr. Jamieson's fingers and coated the palm of his hand.
Watching, Harriet felt the very same happiness Mr. Jamieson showed when she told him about Mommy and Daddy. She could have watched Mr. Jamieson all day. She hurried home to watch Mommy and Daddy all night.
But she had to wait another week, until the next Sunday; but this time she clapped her hands and Mommy and Daddy jumped up like they were shot.
When school started, she was sent to a convent, where there were lady teachers, and they dressed in long, black robes, leaving only their faces exposed.
She never saw what they looked like, until she discovered the exhaust vent at the top of the wall in their community shower room.
The memory of watching, and feeling that delicious tingle of happiness in her belly and legs, kept her from telling any other girl about the vent. She hugged the knowledge to her bosom and waited every night for the naked Sisters to appear.
At first it was a disappointment. They came in one at a time. They bared one leg at a time, and washed it with a coarse, soapy cloth. They wore a sack-cloth, like a housecoat, and washed their bodies without disrobing; inserting the washcloth under the hem, or forcing it down behind the cloth from the neck. They didn't look down at themselves as they cleansed themselves, and Harriet wondered how they knew where they were clean and where they weren't.
But the hidden manipulations were kind of an excitement in themselves, and it was fun to imagine what their hands were doing behind the robe.
And then she hit a lucky day.
Three Sisters came in together. Two were dressed in their regular habits. The third was naked. Outside of her shaved head, which made her ears big and her face look like a boy instead of a girl, the rest of her looked like Harriet's mother. Except she wasn't fat. Her breasts were the shape of pears, and her belly button was a winking dimple like Harriet's own. Her thighs were small, round, and firm, and symmetrically tapered like a movie star's. Her feet were tiny and white, but the other two Sisters weren't treating her nicely at all.
They turned on one shower full force, and held the girl under it. It must have been real cold, because the girl bucked and pulled and kicked to get out; but then she must have gotten used to it, because she stood still and let the needle spray hit her all over. She lifted her head up and let it splash in her face. She kept her eyes closed, but there was a smile playing on her lips.
Then the two sisters did a strange thing. One on each side, they locked a wrist in one hand and an ankle in the other, and lifted the girl off the tile floor. Then they tipped her up so that her head was hanging back and the spray of the shower needled into the black muff between her legs and cascaded out in a little fountain.
They swung her up higher so that the water beat down into the crack of her ass too. They swung her up and back exactly three times that way so that the water knifed from her belly button to the base of her spine, like a baptismal or some kind of circumcision.
Then one of the Sisters held her by wrapping her arm around the girl's waist. To hold tighter, the arm slipped up so that one breast bulged out big and round. The other Sister came back with a bar of soap and lathered the crotch of the squirming girl. Only the girl was still now. She stood quietly with her legs spread so that the one Sister could get her hand between the thighs and the buttocks and rub the soap into white, frothy bubbles.
By this time the two Sisters were soaked, and their cassocks clung like bathing suits to their naked forms beneath the robes. The bar of soap passed from hand to hand between the two Sisters as they took turns scrubbing the girl down. Only now they weren't just soaping the outside of the hairy mound, but were tucking the bar of soap inside the vagina and agitating it against the lips of the cunt so that the girl began rotating her ass with each plunge, and bumping forward and back with her hips each time the bar of soap was inserted.
Then the Sisters held the soap in there, wouldn't let it out; and the girl began grinding her pelvis and saying, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah."
The two Sisters began to giggle.
They had a whispered and hurried conversation. Then they peeled off their wet cassocks while the naked girl waited. While she waited, she kept her thighs tight together so that the bar of soap didn't jump out. Then she dropped her hand between her thighs, bent her knees, and the soap popped out in her hand. All three Sisters giggled this time.
Each Sister took a turn having her vagina laved with the soap. The best part seemed to be when the soap was ejected and one of the Sisters ran her hand up the other's cunt and scrubbed with the lather.
As time passed, they all assumed a squatting position; then they sort of sagged to the tiled floor, and then they writhed around and over each other like long, white, glistening snakes.
Harriet liked it best of all when the Sisters squirmed around to get their mouths to a crotch. She could tell it wasn't a planned thing-not with all the trouble they were having finding proper positions while the water cascaded in silver bounces from their flopping bodies. But the solution was sort of natural as each fastened on the other so that they made a small circle on the floor. They were like a chain, each linked to the other, and Harriet couldn't tell who had been the first naked Sister and which two were the robed ones.
Watching the slurping mouths gave Harriet a delicious feeling, and she eagerly looked forward to meeting the Sisters in class. It turned out to be a tremendous disappointment, because even looking as hard as she could there was nothing to identify one from the other. All Sisters in their habits looked alike, exactly alike! She knew who was who when she talked to them, but she could never identify the three who were in the shower. They had seemed so fresh and alive in there, but now all of them were cold and distant and cruel in their demands. Laughter meant isolation on bread and water, and Harriet went around with her eyes downcast and stayed out of everybody's way. She was never able again to surprise the trio, or any other naked Sister, in the shower again. There was just nothing to look at anymore. Life was dull, except for Sundays, when families were allowed in their church building, and the choir was made up of boys and girls.
That was the first time she saw Reverend Pike, although he was just a twelve-year-old boy then and not a Reverend yet. And she didn't know then that she would grow up to marry him.
In fact, she didn't really care to have anything to do with boys, or girls either for that matter. She just liked to look. Nothing escaped her china-blue eyes, and when the priest took the Pike boy behind the altar after a Sunday Service, Harriet lingered behind a shrine to see what she could see.
What she saw didn't take three minutes. The priest hurriedly lifted his skirts and the boy scurried underneath as if it were a ritual he performed every Sunday.
She couldn't see the boy at all. There was just the priest standing with his hands on his hips, his fingers bunching up the silk cloth of his cassock, while the boy, tented underneath, bobbed his head up and down and made loud, slurping noises.
The priest seemed to be praying. That is, his eyes were closed and his head was tilted back and his lips, startling red against the dead-white of his face, mouthed a stream of words. But his mouth issued no sounds, until the boy finished. Then his throat gave out sort of a croaking sound and an "Ahhgggg!" His tall frame shuddered like a mast in a storm; then he seemed to sink down into himself. He waited until the boy crawled out; then he tucked a handkerchief between his legs and hurried to the passageway that led to his quarters.
The boy stayed on his knees, wiping his mouth with the hem of his tiny cassock. Then he began to cry with long, wracking sobs. Harriet wanted to console him, but she didn't know why, and she didn't want to disclose her hiding place so she did nothing.
When she met and married the Reverend Pike, she didn't know it was the same boy who had serviced the priest in her convent. Being she was terrified of the sin of fornication and the Reverend had married only because it was required for the form and substance of his religious discourse, they got along very well.
He insisted only that she play a wifely role with his flock, wherever it might be, even in these hills, and he excused her from attendance at his services.
But than he excused all the young ladies, because it distracted him in the pulpit. Besides, what he had to say, he had to say to men. He was comfortable with them, while women boggled his mind, made him stutter, and made him forget who and where he was. They were instruments of the devil, and he could prove it.
Now Harriet turned to the door of her tiny, frame house, because she had the feeling she wasn't alone. Besides it was almost noon, and she expected two neighborhood girls for tea. With the Reverend gone, Sunday was so convenient for the female companionship they all desired.
She tried to get hold of herself. "I'm losing my mind," she said, forcing a laugh. She pulled the clinging dress from her body and blew a breath down the front of it, to give relief to the hot breasts that strained against the light material. "And I'm getting fat, too," she added, and started again for the house.
She was sure she saw something move. She was sure she heard twigs snap, even though her own feet were bare and walking on a carpet of thick grass.
Then a figure stepped out from behind a bush next to the stoop. The person drawled, "Ya alone, Lady?" He was chewing on a blade of grass as he leered at her. "Yeah, ya alone," he said, and turned and went up the stairs into her house ahead of her.
CHAPTER FOUR
The sun shone brightly. The temperature hovered at a warm eighty-five. It was a typical day, and there was nothing to be frightened of. She whirled and moved two steps away from the door, when two more figures materialized and approached her.
She felt her bowels melt, and shit ran thin as piss into her anal cavity. They turned her about and each took an arm, and they marched her up the steps into the kitchen of her house.
In the familiarity of the room, she managed to blurt out, "Who are you! What do you want!"
"Don't y'all remember us, Mrs. Pike?" Morrow was taking the lead and enjoying the role. For months he had memorized every moment and anticipated every reaction. He was going to enjoy every bit of it now.
Leonard and Carter leaned nonchalantly against the closed kitchen door. It made the kitchen stifling hot, and Harriet could barely breathe. She was conscious of her thin dress plastered to her naked body. These were the bike bums. She remembered them now. And she remembered what they did. Her blood ran hot with the memory of what she had heard. It was almost as if she had seen it.
"I'm Morrow," Morrow volunteered. "The big, fat meathead behind you is Leonard. That half-white colored boy is Carter." He ran his tongue over his lips while his eyes inspected her body from head to toe. "If you never had any black meat; he's a good way to start."
Harriet pulled back toward the window. She folded her arms over her breasts and tried to keep her outlined crotch hidden from the naked eyes that fastened there.
She shifted her view to take in Leonard and Carter. The former was an ape, with a naked belly and a hairy chest. Tufts of coarse hair swept out like beards from under his arms.
The mulatto boy looked white. A swarthy white, but he had high cheekbones and a straight, high-bridged nose and his lips were thin. Where Leonard had small, shifty pig-eyes, the colored boy's were a dancing black, and they glittered like two pieces of wet coal.
She felt the soft shit slide between the cheeks of her ass as she moved backward, and she was afraid it was staining her dress. What a stupid thing to be ashamed of, she thought, and half-jumped toward the window.
The boys did nothing to stop her. She'd have to climb the sink first, and if she made it, where was she?
"I said, what do you want?" she repeated.
"Some chick, huh?" Morrow drooled to the two others. "This is going to be the greatest pussy since Marilyn Monroe."
"Wait a fuckin' minute," Leonard barked hoarsely. He turned to the creamy-white complexion of Carter. "You the one that got the slipped disc from the minister's fuckin' two-by-four."
"Yeah," Morrow echoed, "you got dibs."
"Tell the lady what you want-she's askin'."
"I'm not asking you to get out of here! I'm telling you to get out of here!"
"Oh, lady, cool it," Leonard said with disgust. "We're your guests. Treat us right."
Harriet didn't know how her fear had turned to anger. But it was the only defense she had. The disgusting words, the disgusting manner, the bizarre demands and intentions of these uncouth boys were too ridiculous to be believed. Her mind blotted out the memory of these boys; the knowledge-of what they intended to do-was too horrible to speculate on.
"Hey, man," Carter said. "Think there's any beer in the box?"
"Ask the hostess," Leonard said.
"Fuck the hostess," Morrow belched. "Look in the box."
"We're a Lord-fearing family," Harriet volunteered. "We don't drink, so there's no beer. We don't smoke, so there's no cigarettes. You'll find those things elsewhere. Just get out of here!"
"Hold your horses, lady," Morrow said. "We brung our own."
He flipped open the refrigerator door and Harriet saw it filled with six-packs. Her stomach lurched and more shit pumped out into the crack of her ass.
"We been around a while. While you fucked your roses, we made ourselves at home."
"I'd like a tour of the house," Carter interrupted. "Especially I'd like to see the bedrooms."
"I'm sure she's a good tour-guide," Leonard said, lifting a six-pack out of the refrigerator and kicking the door shut with his heel. "She'll show you everthing-her tits, her cunt, and her asshole. Just tell her I told her to be nice."
The stifling heat was gone from the house. Harriet stood as if frozen in a block of ice. Her breath was a broken knife in her chest and she hugged her breasts as if they were sliced from her shoulders and about to drop to the floor.
"Go on," Leonard said. "Go with the boy. He's got a three-foot long prick that will make your cunt whistle with happiness."
Morrow chuckled. "Shit," he said, "you guys ad-lib better than I rehearsed. Look how her face turns all kinds of colors when you talk about pussy."
"I don't aim to just talk," Leonard said. "I guarantee right now that I'm going to fuck it six times-once for each time the Reverend pole-axed me with that two-by-four."
"You know, what really bugs me," Carter said, "is that he got me just before I came. If that man had a true Christian soul, he'd have waited ten seconds."
"Amen," Morrow snickered.
Leonard guzzled down a whole bottle of beer in one swallow. "Whoo-oo! That was almost as good as havin' some."
Harriet remained rooted to the linoleum floor, until Carter's fingers cruelly bit into her arm. The brutal grasp of his fingers was totally incongruous with his joyful face. The fear came back tenfold to Harriet. The others looked mean. This boy was mean.
She tried to classify them. She said to herself, one boy talks mean, another looks mean, this one acts mean, they all are mean.
The one who acted mean, acted it. He brought his fist up from the floor and walloped it into the bottom of her belly.
Black bile poured into Harriet's throat. She could taste the vomit in her mouth. Her knees collapsed and her arms dropped limply. But Carter held her up by grabbing at her tits and mashing them in his fingers and tugging her upward. They felt as if they were being torn out by the roots.
She hung there, watching their lips move, but she couldn't hear any sound. Her only salvation was that she couldn't hear the filthy things she knew they were saying.
Carter was still lifting her by the breasts as if they were hinges. He deposited her on the drainboard of the sink and smiled at her.
"Throw up in the sink," he said. "Don't get my clothes all dirty." He wiped his hands on his oil-stained denim jacket. He reeked from dried sweat and dried pussy, but he didn't like the dead-sour odor of a vomitted stomach. Especially honky stomachs. They were just plain rotten. Even a good-shaped cunt like this had shit in her belly. In fact, she smelled a little shitty even without throwing up.
His smile was wise and white in her face. He said, "Feeling better?"
They shoved a bottle of beer at her. "Here-it'll clean your mouth out."
She shook her head.
Leonard shoved the mouth of the beer bottle to her lips and Carter yanked on the ponytail of her hair. Her head flew back. It felt as if her scalp had been peeled from the roots. "I said have some beer."
She let the mouth of the bottle be inserted in her lips. Her throat worked furiously to swallow the cold, biting liquid as it gushed down her throat.
"Man, look at the way those lips suck around that bottle!"
"Lots of practice."
"On pricks-man, she don't drink beer." They all laughed.
She started to choke on the beer and Leonard pulled the bottle away. She nearly said thanks and caught herself. She didn't know if she was going to say thanks because they kept her from drowning or for the beer that felt so good and refreshing in her stomach. She could feel her stomach settle and relax. She was almost comfortable, except for the sheet of shit that had spread out under her and was pasted to the bottom of her dress.
Leonard passed her the rest of the bottle. "Finish it," he ordered.
Carter said, "Now don't swing it at us, 'cause if you do, you're gonna eat it."
"She'll eat it anyway," Carter called, and laughed at his joke.
Harriet lifted the bottle to her lips. It was cold to her hand. It felt good. She tipped the bottle and took a swallow.
"All of it," Leonard ordered again.
She let the beer run down her throat until it brought tears to her eyes. She paused, but saw the twinkle in Carter's eyes, and tilted the bottle again.
It was really a vile taste. It was bitter and sour, and she heard that rats lived and defecated in the grain that beer was made from. But she finished the bottle, and Leonard took it from her.
"Want another one?"
She shook her head.
"Hey, we ain't the hosts here," Morrow said, the heels of his boots hooked on top of the kitchen table, his chair tilted back, and his military cap tipped low over his eyes. "Let her make us feel at home."
"Yeah," Carter said. "And she can do that by taking off that shit-filled dress that makes me want to puke."
His wrinkled nose was incongruous with the smile on his lips.
Harriet looked around helplessly.
She couldn't believe that such a subject, such an accusation was being discussed in her presence. But they had talked cunt and prick and fuck in front of her as if she were a nigger wench. And it was true that out of fright she had moved her bowels in her dress, as if she were a child. What she was really embarrassed about was that she just had on this thin dress, like a slip, with nothing on underneath-like a field hand, like a nigger field hand!
She met Carter's eyes and a new chill raced up her back. It was as if he knew what she was thinking. She wanted to tell him she never thought this way before. It was just ... just-
"Take off that fuckin' dress and let's bury it," Carter was saying. "Got to get rid of that stink 'afore I fuck you, baby."
Where were the girls? Where were the girls who were due here for tea, who would see what was happening and run for help?
"Come on, Lady, don't be a fuck-up. Get out of that dress." It was Leonard's order.
"I'm tellin' ya, if you don't, I'm not gonna be the first one to fuck ya," Carter warned.
She wouldn't move, couldn't move.
Carter banged open cabinet drawers and came up with a paring knife. "Bet you thought I carried one of these on me," he grinned. Then he sliced her dress up the front and flipped the ends back like pages from a newspaper.
"Now just hop down," he said, "and it will come off like peelin' a tangerine."
Harriet slumped forward, and slid off the top of the sink. Her arms came out of the sleeveless dress all right, but the shit-encrusted bottom clung to her buttocks.
Carter wrinkled his nose in distaste and jerked it from her skin.
Harriet remained huddled; her arms clasped across her breasts, one knee bent to bring up a well-turned thigh to cover her naked pubes.
From back at the table, Morrow whistled in appreciation. "Even better than I remembered," he chortled. "That sacky dress made her look like a cow."
"Looks like a woodland nymph on a spring morn," Leonard rhapsodized. "Man, that's all pussy, from head to toe!"
Only Carter said nothing. He picked up the fallen, dress between thumb and forefinger and marched it to the door. He was gone for only a minute. "I sure feel sorry for the fuckin' dogs who find it," he said. "Now bend over."
He dampened a washcloth, lathered it with soap and scrubbed the brown-stained curve of her ass until it glistened red. "Bend over more," he said gutturally, "and spread those cheeks!"
Mechanically, Harriet did as she was bidden. Her head was hidden and she didn't have to look at the three leering faces. She felt the washcloth and Carters fingers in her ass like electric wires. The muscles in her calves jerked and she felt pulsating currents sweep across her sphincter nerves.
Carter even dried her with a dishtowel. As long as they said nothing, she stayed in that position, with her head down so her face couldn't be seen, the heels of her palms resting on the caps of her knees. It gave a long smooth symmetry to the swing of her legs, from hips to toes, and it tipped her breasts outward so that the nipples pointed upward like the buds of two, fresh roses.
Then she felt warm flesh pressing between the mounds of her buttocks. She started to jump forward, and two, calloused hands caught her at the hips and held her until the throbbing organ at the mouth of her anus grew long and stiff and probed down the bottom of her hairy vulva.
She dug her long nails into the back of the hands, gripping her hips. Carter cursed. It was almost a pleasure to hear him strike out, instead of making her tolerate that little-boy smile and those friendly, flashing eyes.
But she was facing the wall and, before she could turn, another hand was planted hard between her shoulder blades, and her breasts and knees were slammed against the plaster. Through tears that suddenly burst from her eyes, she made out the pattern of the wallpaper moulding that divided the height of the old-fashioned kitchen. She remembered the days she had spent finding that pattern. It seemed so futile and stupid! But she had no time to wallow in memory. Two vicious slaps across the skin of her buttocks brought a shriek to her lips. Her head was pulled back again by the ponytail. Her tears mirrored Carter's black eyes as he grinned down at her. He kept pulling her hair. Her knees weakened. Then she was down on the floor and Carter had one bicycle boot planted on the shifting flesh of her trembling tits.
"Man, this is fun," Carter said. "We're all gonna take us a nice, long trip without an ounce of acid or a drop of tea!"
Morrow lurched from the table and came around to stare down at the naked girl pinned to the floor by the twist of her ponytail in Carter's hand.
"Man, you can't fuck her from back there," he drawled exaggeratedly for Carter's obvious benefit. "What you gonna do?"
"Well, I'll tell you-I'm afixin' to hold her while you guys suck her. I bet the only sauce the Reverend's had his tongue in was in a bowl of spaghetti."
"Hey, Leonard-does this look like a bowl of spaghetti to you?"
Leonard crossed the kitchen, opening another bottle of beer. He peered at the crinkly triangle between Harriet's taut legs. "I dunno," he said finally. "Spaghetti ain't somethin' ya look at-it's somethin' ya taste."
"What does it taste like?"
"Mmmm, salt and pepper. And pulpy, like uh-" He tried to think of something pulpy. "Canteloupe?"
"That ain't pulpy-that's meaty."
"Yeah, well, meatballs and spaghetti, how's that?"
"I bet this stuff smells fishy," Carter said. "Smell of fish makes me puke."
"So ya want me to taste it first?" Leonard said. "Ya want me to test it for ya to see if it's good enough to eat?"
"Yeah, man. I'll fuck it no matter what, but eatin's somethin' else again."
"Right you are," Morrow said. "Me first."
"Hey, wait a fuck," Leonard bellowed. He came around so that Harriet was looking directly in his face. "You ever been eaten before?"
She closed her eyes and swallowed the retching that began to heave in her chest.
A booted toe kicked her viciously in the rump. She kept her eyes closed, but the toe didn't land in her rump again. Instead it came down on the crest of her vulva. It swirled in the matted hair and poked for her slit.
"Hey, answer me, fucker, or my boot's gonna go in your cunt and come out your throat."
Her eyes shot open. It was the first time she had heard that word since her discussions with Mr. Jamieson. At the same time, she remembered the snapping mouths of the Sisters in the convent, and she felt shocks of delight sweep across her thighs as Morrow knelt at her feet and lowered his sweaty body to kiss the trembling hairs that covered her cunt.
"Come on, you mother, dig in. If it don't kill ya, I'll try some," Morrow bragged.
The boots were between her ankles, spreading her legs. She felt open air rush up the inside of her perspiring thighs and cool the hot crease of her vagina. She involuntarily brought her knees back and up, and she felt two hands on her inner thighs, gapping her cunt and boxing it for the hot breath she could feel blowing on it.
She suddenly lashed out with both legs, flipped her head sideways to tear loose from Carter's grip, and bounded to her knees. There was a beer bottle on the floor. She grabbed it up and threw blindly. It crunched above Morrow's right eye.
"You motherfucker!" he screamed.
Carter was almost on top of her. She rolled on her naked back and thrust out her legs to kick the heavy roll of meat that dangled from the crotch of his tight denims. Carter was smiling.
His cycle boot swung back and then forward. The point of the toe caught her just above the temple. It was as if someone had snapped off a light.
CHAPTER FIVE
She came back to consciousness bound in her own bed. Each ankle was roped to opposite bedposts, and her wrists were tied over her shoulders to the headboard. Her head felt severed from her shoulders. Her muscles ached as if they had been pummeled with sandbags. An inch of adhesive tape sealed her lips and it was difficult to breathe through the mucous that clogged her nostrils.
Oh God! Whenever she cried, her nose ran, and she wanted to blow it so badly it made her cry more. Her shoulders shook silently with the sobs that wracked her body. She tried lifting her head and through the blurry tears, she aw the white V of her legs as they stretched to the foot of the bed.
Her pelvis was elevated by a pillow that had been thrust under her hips. Her mons of venis rose like a brush-covered hill to her painful eyes. Then her eyes widened. In the center was a red and white-striped straw, to simulate a flag.
She tried to dislodge it by bucking her hips; then rolling from side to side and straining her buttocks and vaginal muscles to expel it from the tight squeeze of her sucking vaginal lips. But it was useless.
She became conscious of voices. Then her heart nearly stopped. Then it raced madly and pounded like a hammer in her throat. One of the voices belonged to Elvira Swope. She couldn't make out the other, but it must belong to Caroline Dickens!
They were here, and she hadn't been able to warn them. They were here, and they wouldn't be able to go for help. She frantically tugged at the ropes, but it was useless. The harder she pulled, the tighter they became. She felt them cutting off all circulation, and realized they had been tied by an expert. A Navy man, no doubt. Not that Leonard. Morrow maybe. But it was Carter who leaned over her and smiled.
"Hey, ya back with us? Right!"
"Mmmm! Mmmmm!" She thrashed wildly and the bedsprings creaked.
"Sh," Carter admonished. "They hear that downstairs, they think I'm fuckin' the life out of ya."
Fright drove the tears from her eyes, and her view of Carter was crystal-clear. He was skin-and bone-naked. The phallus that jutted from between his legs was as big around as Harriet's wrist. The head was purple-black. He skinned it back in front of her eyes, so she could see the red slit leering at her.
Again the electric pulses rippled across her body and recalled the pleasure of seeing such things, which had built up a horror in doing them.
She slammed her eyes closed and tried to stop breathing.
"Hey, I don't want any dead meat," Carter was saying. "I got friends who dig that jazz, but I don't."
She couldn't keep her eyes closed, because she was terrified of what he might be doing. She opened her eyes. Carter's lean loins were at the side of the bed. She looked down the fine hair of his leg, to just below his knee, where his boot stopped. He was completely naked, except for those cycle boots. No, around his neck he wore a chain with some sort of pendant dangling on the oily skin of his chest. He was reaching for the straw in her twat.
"Besides yore a virgin, honey-baby, did you know that?" He shook his head in mock disbelief, and grinned wider. "Lookee here, I can only get two fingers in, and I can only sink 'em to the first joint. Must be ya give the Reverend blow jobs.
Well, if you live long enough-ya can tell him ya learned how to fuck too."
He let two fingers slice between the lips, and then he ran them up and down the slit to lubricate the skin.
"This is why I had to spread yore legs, honey-baby. Yore twat's even too tight to piss through!"
Harriet felt as if she were wrapped in a blanket of shame and mortification. The impulse to pull up her legs and cover her vaginal area made her stiff as a board. Yet, she couldn't tear her eyes from the rigid rod that rubbed against her thigh as Carter ran his hand over the moss between her legs.
He patted it tenderly. "My, that's going to be good pussy!"
Harriet flipped her head from left to right, and Carter brought his other hand to her chin to quiet her. The hand on her cunt caressed her like a baby. The one on her chin cruelly bit into her jawbone and made her ears ache.
"And ya do smell sweet," Carter said. "I 'pologize for making you shit. But I sure as hell ain't gonna 'pologize for makin' ya come."
His head was just above her navel as he peered down at her cunt. Now he turned his neck so he was looking up at her with those dancing black eyes and the white flashing smile. "Hey, wait'll you come, honey-baby. It'll curl your hair. Your toes are gonna stretch out like fingers, and your whole body is gonna bubble like a potful of chitlins."
She felt vomit come up in her throat again, but the adhesive tape held her mouth locked tight. She had to swallow the bile. It was raw acid to her throat. Her eyes teared again.
Then she heard Elvira's laugh. It was a long, loud, open-mouthed guffaw. Carter shook his head. "They must be ticklin' her asshole with a feather! That gal giggles at everything!"
Carter went around to the foot of the bed and started to crawl between her legs. Her senses left her. She felt his calloused palms on her shins, on her knees, up her thighs. They came to rest for a moment on her hips, the thumbs spread wide to agitate her vulva. Then they moved up her rib cage, rib by rib, to the soft swell of her breasts.
He caught her nipples between thumb and index finger, and rubbed them, while his red-white mouth drooled in delight. He brought his lips to the stiffening tips and tongued the core of her left breast. Then he made a wet trail with the flat of his tongue to her other breast. He squirmed between her legs and she could feel his body shudder. She became conscious of the muscular symmetry of his coffee-colored body. In her stupor, she was almost fascinated by the play of the muscles across his shoulders.
Then he nuzzled his face in the valley of her breasts, and brought his hands up to squeeze the pillowy mounds to the sides of his face. His fingers dug into the tender skin. They screwed holes into the flesh, and Harriet cried out. But the sound didn't reach past her own ears. She whipped her head from side to side, and Carter released one tit to lift a hand and crack it to the side of her face. She stopped whipping her head, and he brought the hand down to her bust again.
Now he rolled both tits in his palms, and slobbered spit that ran a trail down her belly to her heaving navel.
Harriet lay in anguish. Tears formed again and rolled from the corners of her eyes. Carter licked the tears as they ran down her cheeks and into the creases on either side of her nose. He grinned even wider, and then brought his nigger lips down to her mouth. It was the first time she was grateful for the tape. It shielded her from his tongue, but Carter didn't seem to mind at all. He kept on grinning; rolled his tongue and traced it down her body to her cunt. She tried to buck him off, but the pillow under her and his weight on top of her made the gesture useless, except for the excitement it brought to Carter.
"Man, I sure love to eat at the Y," he said, and licked flat the public hairs that tingled on the line of her cunt.
His fingers on her thighs suddenly became gentle. The tips slid over her skin, tenderly massaged the hot mound between her legs; then reached under to spread the crack of her ass. The tips delved into that hole too, and smoothed the fissure. Then they came back to the tangle of her pubes.
She wished herself into a faint, to fall unconscious and evade the knowledge of what was happening. But her eyes wouldn't close. They remained fixed on the ceiling in terror, but she couldn't ignore the feeling of what was happening between her legs.
Then the hot, wet mouth crashed down on her cunt. A smooth, slimy substance was slipped between the lips. His tongue! His tongue was in her cunt, riding up to the clit and down to the cleft of her ass, in long, jubilant swipes.
A stream of sheer pleasure radiated across her loins. It was a specific physical sensation that had nothing to do with the agony that had befallen her.
She felt Carter's muscular frame flop across her body. His boots struck her head; then they framed her face and her nose was inside the cheeks of his hairy, smelly ass. She gagged. She couldn't breathe. She bucked in panic. But he was already sliding down her body, so that his mouth was reaching her cunt from above instead of below. His wild hands cupped her buttocks and mashed her virgin cunt against his face. She gasped in the relief of breathing again, and then gasped again as she felt the wild lips nip her clitoris and lave the mucous walls of her vagina. His black cock, heavy as a baseball bat, lay against her right cheek in stiff promise, and again she felt the vomit start to build in the pit of her stomach.
Carter was crawling all over her. He was crawling in her. The heat of his body sank into her very soul. His hard-rock penis banged against her ear and shoulder as he licked furiously on her cunt. She could feel his balls slap hard on the twin mounds of her breasts, and she mentally compared the large orbs mating with the smaller ones in a fantastic rite that she had read about but never believed she would experience.
Jamieson again: "Sixty-nine! Son-of-a-bitch, they sixty-nine!" Her mommy and her daddy rolling in joy. The three Sisters in the convent, writhing in ecstasy, cooing songs into each other's vagina. She feels her mommy's joy. She understands the songs. Electricity is humming through her body. Her nerves are sputtering. Her brains are popping open. Her skull is lifting from her head. A ball of heat is spreading in her crotch, up her thighs, across her buttocks, into her anus, up her cunt, into her bowels ... spreading down to her toes and up to her fingertips. The back of her neck stretches and tears. Raw nerves dance in the sunlight. A shower of stars cascade in her brain. Her hips start going up and down, up and down. Her knees move. They move, in and out, to catch the delicious head sucking her vagina. They spread and let Carter's face enter. Her whole body is convulsed. Shock after shock flips her tummy. Her ass is red hot. Her vagina expands, contracts; squeezes, relaxes....
Her whole body contracted, like rows of taut bedsprings; then sprang out in a burst of breaking, snapping, cracking, splintering, shredding wires ... wires that whirred in her brain, and immediately bunched again, expanded again, broke again, bunched again....
Carter hunched up on his knees. His wicked penis reached from the base of his belly to stab in short, rubbery thrusts at the flesh of her neck. She tried to ward it away with her elbows, but the ropes were tied so she could bring her arms together only as close as her trembling shoulders. It left her face wide open for the swinging hunk of meat that beat against her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. Time and time again, it came to rest for a stuttering moment against the tape sealing her lips. It threatened to tear the tape and plunge into her throat.
And then Carter lifted himself. He swung around. His face was above her, his eyes glazed, opaque. His hanging tongue drooled the juices from Harriet's cunt; mixing with the saliva that poured from his mouth and dripped in silver strings on her face.
He paused to take deep, gasping, chest-heaving breaths. His knees were digging savagely into her wet, slippery thighs. His resting elbows knifed into her breasts and sent shivers of pain to the soles of her feet.
Gradually his eyes cleared, and the dancing black light came back. He recognized her. He smiled. He licked his lips. He wiped them with the back of his hand, and then wiped the back of his hand on Harriet's disarrayed hair.
The vile lips came close, brushed her cheeks, then mashed her eyes; across her forehead, into her neck, down to her breasts again. His lips were like suede. But he didn't go all the way down this time. He came back up, steering his tongue between the shaking globes of titty flesh, to her ears.
She couldn't move her head at all, because he kept it fixed with a foul hand clasped at the crown of her head. Then he reached down with his other hand and wrapped his fingers around his thick cock. His voice rasped in her ear.
"I'm all set, baby-doll, I'm all ready, sweetheart...."
The term of endearment made her stomach turn again. She used her last ounce of strength to tug her ankles from the binding ropes. Her muscles rippled and spasmed, but her legs remained immobile. Carter grinned as his tongue snaked into her ear.
He ran the crown of his prick from the top of her slit down to the fold of her ass. It was like measuring a slice of sponge cake before the knife slides in and cuts a sweet, sugar-coated wedge.
Oh, no, no! Oh God, please, no! Oh, Jesus, sweet Jesus, let him stop ... make him stop ... make him die ... kill him ... kill me . ... I must die, die, die!
The prick probed at her pelvic bone, inched down, found the two, firm lips that trembled in anticipation of insertion; inserted itself, pushed forward, burrowed itself to the glans; paused, gathered itself, stretched itself, reared upward, plunged forward.
Harriet screamed again, but the sound reached only her own ears again. The cock seared her thighs, blasted her cunt, tore the protective membranes from her vagina, ripped a hole to her anus; and bounced and banged furiously in the jelly of her uterus.
"Hot damn!" Carter croaked in her ear. "Take it, baby....Take it all, baby . ... Hang on to my motherfucker, baby . ... Oh, I got a good, hot, hard prick, baby . ... Work your cunt, honey . ... That's what ya got there, ya papa fucker....Ya got a hot, juicy cunt that sweet-babies my prick all the way home . ... Yeah, baby, give it to me ... take it from me....Ride it, honey . ... Oh, sweet shit, hot damn . ... Tell me ya like my fuckin', baby . ... Tell me ya like my cock, honey Tell me it's the best cock ya ever fucked, sugar....Oh, ooh, ahh ... suck it in, honey Take it-all the way in, all the way out. ... Wrap yore honeycunt around it ... tight, baby, tight. ... Squeeze, honey . ... Oh, baby ... oh, honey ... ooh, ooh, ooh . ... Ahhhh! Give it to me ... take it from me....Ride yore ass, baby ... bounce it, bounce it!....Oh, papa! Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck, fuck!! Honeycunt it, baby ... Jazz it, honey-oh, Mrs. Reverend, take it ... oh, hump it....Come, baby ... come on my prick . ... splash your sizzling gizz on my hot cock . ... Come, baby, come all over me....Shower me with yore come, honey . ... Spunk on me, sugar . ... Now, honey, now, baby, now, sugar, now, cunt, now, prick, now, balls, now...."
The foul-tongued repetitious words hammered in Harriet's brain. She shut her eyes to them, blocked her ears to them, but they seared into her head. They went round and round like a phonograph record, etched into her brain, jammed into her mind, echoed in a cavern under her skull and found their way into her throat where she mouthed them distastefully and tried to spit them out through the tape that held them locked in forever.
With each vile outburst, Carter's smooth buttocks thrust forward. Between gasps, his pelvis rotated in her gelatin-like crotch and delivered the sensations that his words promised.
God would understand what she had let him do with his tongue. God would forgive her for that. It wasn't a penis. It didn't jet sperm. It was a kiss, just a kiss, nasty, but not venal. And she couldn't help herself. She couldn't help the sweet sensations that so excited her, couldn't stop them . ... She tried, didn't she-she tried!
And now he was doing it again. Now it was doing it again. Waves of delight rippled like a washboard across her goose-bumpy flesh. But she was tied here, bound hand and foot, taken against her will, raped ... raped ... fucked, fucked, FUCKED!
Oh, papa! Oh, fuck! Honeycunt it, baby . ... Ride your ass, baby. ... A hot, juicy cunt, sweet-baby's prick ... The best cock you ever fucked. ... Wrap your honeycunt around it ... tight, baby, tight....Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. ... Oh, fuck me, baby. ... Ram your rod up my cunt. Give me that good, sweet, hot, hard prick. ... All the way, baby. ... Up my hole, baby . ... Out my ass, black sugar. ... Make me come, honey....I want to come all over you, darling. I can't help myself. I can't stop. I'm tied here, tied! Bound to this bed! Whip me! Whip me! Hit me! Beat me!
Oh, no, no! Dear, God. This is horrible, horrible! I must stop! STOP! STOP! Oh, my God, your coming! YOU'RE COMING! I can feel it like hot piss washing through my vagina, my cunt! Oh, my God, it feels so good! Oh, my God, don't stop it! Oh, my God, forgive me! Oh, Jesus! OH, OH, OOHH, OOOOH, AAHHH, UUGGGHHHHH!
She lay in a hot bath of remorse and shame. Her eyes burned and refused to open. At the moment, she was not conscious of terror. Her predicament seemed to be retributive justice altogether appropriate to the offense. Her mind skipped the horror that had just been visited upon her, and concentrated on Reverend Pike. It was as if her soul independently sought to intensify her punishment.
The memory curled in the dregs of her brain pan. Those times and those years she had indulged her weakness without any feelings of guilt came back to haunt her. She thought she had paid for it by abstaining from any participation in sex herself. She realized now she hadn't done that voluntarily. She had abstained, because even the thought of fornication filled her with fright and repugnance.
Whenever an opportunity for intercourse had arisen, it was as if she was being watched by God the same way she used to watch. Reverend Pike wanted nothing from her-except her promise that she would never leave him. It was the only time they ever discussed sex, and then only to agree to its absolute banishment.
Now she had a bitter understanding of the price exacted by Heaven. But even more than that was the understanding that Reverend Pike would, in his innocence, pay the price too.
To help erase the hurt of what had happened to her would mean to her husband, she gladly suffered the throbbing ache of the rope-burns on her wrists and ankles. There was no ache in her crotch. It was cold.
Maybe what had happened had not happened. Maybe she dreamed it. She often had awful, awful dreams. She lifted her head as much as the ropes would allow, and looked down toward her feet.
Carter was curled like a brown puppy dog, asleep between her thighs. And then she heard Elvira's booming laugh again. The nightmare was real.
CHAPTER SIX
Downstairs, Leonard's wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms tore at his belt. He unzipped his come-splattered denims and kicked them away. He pulled off his shit-stained underpants. "Hey, how's that, Elvireeee! Ten-seconds flat!"
He stood before her, his hanging dong swaying like a pendulum. Elvira Swope, sitting cross-legged on the couch, leaned forward and peered through the haze of pot that obscured the elephantine body that pranced in front of her.
"If you wanna good fuck," Leonard was saying to her, "get this prick hard."
Laughter fizzed up in her like bubbles. The only sex organ like this she had ever seen was on a horse. The prick of a bull was a long, red, hard thing, with a twist on the end like a meat hook. Her dad was against screwing, just simply didn't allow it. So when she fucked, she wouldn't look at or touch the cock in her. He even refused to let her go to church and hear Reverend Pike talk about it. But Reverend Pike didn't seem to care. He paid no attention to any of the ladies or girls in the church. He was only interested in men and boys. Elvira put out a tentative finger and touched the sausage that was unfolding before her eyes. It stopped going from side to side and started to arc up in tiny jerks.
Then someone grabbed her head from behind and pulled it back. Wet, spitty lips plastered against hers. A tongue was forced inside her mouth and down her throat. It made her want to laugh, a scary laugh, but her breath was cut off.
She was hardly conscious of Leonard yelling, "Cut that shit! This is my pussy!"
The heat of the mouth above her melted her lips. She tried to move her head, but Morrow's head moved with hers. His tongue moved the same way too, and -rimmed her teeth and tongue and gums, and set her whole body on fire. She was really scared now, and the laughter was gone. If she could only get her breath, maybe it would be funny again-the way the fat guy kept slapping his hand on her ass and pulling at her tits so that she had to keep running from him. He had always let her run away so he could corner her again.
They told her their Aunt Harriet was getting dressed. But there had been no word from Harriet Pike ... not a sound from upstairs. The other one, called Morrow, was in the kitchen with Caroline.
Then Leonard, in front of her, collapsed on her tits. His hands tore the bodice of her dress and dug out the white, meaty orbs from behind her Sunday bra. He covered one large nipple with his lips and slowly moved his tongue around it.
She could feel it grow hard; then he had the whole cherry in his mouth and locked his jaws together. The bite of his teeth didn't hurt. It was painful, but it didn't hurt. That was funny. She wanted to laugh. Morrow's tongue, above her, was delicious in her mouth. Then he was sucking on her tongue like a dog with a bone. A flame shot from her mouth to her breast. It burned down her belly and bursted out between her legs.
Her hips jerked involuntarily and she had to spread her legs. Her own hands found the way to her panties, and she tugged frantically at the elastic top, to skim off the white cottons and let the heat out.
The hungry mouth in front of her moved from side to side and gobbled up both tits. It kept up a relentless licking and sucking and biting. She threw her arms around it and hugged it to her marshmallow breasts, while Morrow crooned above her.
Morrow's long, naked legs banged up against the back of the couch. His hands ran up and down the length of his prick to get it hard again. The cock-sucker in the kitchen made him blow his nuts before he was ready. Then she passed out on the floor, and he promised himself he would get her later. They'd all fuck dead meat later when the Reverend was here to watch, but right now he wanted the cunts to know they were being fucked while they were being fucked."
There was a food pantry in the kitchen, and he had locked the broad in there. God, she had a nice-shaped pussy, like a soft, rosy football, and her ass had never been opened before, except to shit. She was used to something coming out, but nothing going in. No wonder she had passed out! She'd pass out a hundred times more before he was through. But now both of them-he and Leonard-would shag-out this dippy cunt. This babe had been fucked plenty. She knew what they wanted, and she could make it good. The prick was up hard again, and he was ready to shove it in her mouth.
Morrow freed her head, and Elvira opened her eyes. She looked at Leonard's busy head moving down her body. She hadn't gotten her panties off completely. She felt the teeth at her crotch tear at the cloth and rip it from her thighs. She lifted her hips so it could be slipped off. The big, bushy head raised and looked up at her. The eyes blinked.
Then she felt herself dragged from the couch and swung to the floor. Leonard never moved his head from her pussy. Her writhing buttocks were held tight in the palms of his big hand. He slurped at her pubic hairs and tongued them flat to the skin of her pulsating mound.
Then he rolled under her, flopping her with him, so her thighs had him wrapped in her cunt, and her tits scraped on the carpet from the bucking head between her legs.
Her knees were held in two iron fists, and Leonard lifted them, to suck voraciously on her golden muff. She didn't know what she would do when his tongue sank in. She didn't know what it would feel like when it rolled into her pussy and scooped at her clit.
His chin was digging hard into the meat of her cunt, and she eased the hurt by lifting up on her elbows. As she did, Morrow came from nowhere and scooted underneath her. His bony legs sliced down her naked sides and hugged her hips. It brought her mouth to his long cock. It filled her eyes, and she pulled her head back to bring it in focus. It swayed side to side like the mast of a ship, and she put her hands around the base to steady it and hold it upright. Morrow's fingers pressed on the top of her head and guided it to the cock.
She came in on it from the side instead of the top, so she licked the silky skin first and kissed the heavy, sagging scrotum, and mouthed the balls like two prunes between her lips.
The cunt flesh between her legs was a seething mass of heat. She spread her ass as far as she could, so the red tongue could move into her red cunt and wipe the red lips of her red cunt and suck up the hard, red clit in her red cunt, while she lifted her head and came down on the red crown of the red-hot prick that tasted like fire to her lips.
"Oh ... oooohhhh...." she moaned. The lips beneath her went flat and the tongue came up hard. "Ooohh . ... Aahhhh...." she gurgled into the prick dancing in her mouth, while she whipped her pelvis into the fat face that sucked up her cunt.
Leonard rammed his tongue to the roots in Elvira's golden bag; then slowly withdrew it, curving it upward into the ceiling of her little quim, catching and playing with her stiff clitoris, pulling it out with his lips-losing it, and delving back into the wet sweetness to find it again.
The jolting sensations of pleasure that wracked Elvira's young body was expressed in the way she slurped at the gorgeous prick in her mouth. She pitched and rolled. She tongued the vibrant staff into her throat and then out again. She lapped at the defenseless cock that responded to her greedy mouth. She felt it rise up, puff wide, and start to shudder.
Leonard's hands released her knees. His fingers spasmed backwards and upwards, crawled up her belly and found her tits. They mashed them in his palms and nearly dragged her from Morrow's cock. She held on with both hands and started to bite into the glans.
"Cut it, you mother!" Morrow screamed, and beat his heels into Leonard's thighs.
Leonard's hands reluctantly opened, and Elvira eagerly pulled even with Morrow's prick again. "Suck it, baby!" he groaned. "Motherfuckitsuckitbaby!"
Leonard was breathing heavily into her vagina; then he roughly tore the tight lips apart with the fingers that had been denied her breasts, and forced his tongue and lower jaw into the small wetness of her. He tore at the firm, smooth asscheeks, and dug his fingers into the crack, and pulled it open and slammed his middle finger into her anus and penetrated the rubbery tissue and stretched it to his second knuckle.
Morrow's prick, deep in her throat, cut off Elvira's scream. At the same time she felt the tongue snake up her cunt and whip furiously against her clitoris. It eased the ache of the anal rupture. Then the finger went in deeper. She felt sickening pain as it seemed to rip out her asshole; then it slipped away and bounced in again. Again. The third time it felt just as good as the tongue lashing her clit.
Her tits were resting on Morrow's quivering thighs, and they seemed to swell and lift her from his legs. She seemed suspended on the two, hard nipples that rolled up and back on Morrow's thighs, sending him bucking higher, and giving her a third area of unbelievable pleasure.
"Ooohhh ... Aaahhh ... Urrrggggh!"
Her soft fingers dipped up Morrow's balls, while she rubbed the bottoms of her feet on the calves of Leonard's hairy legs, and felt herself wrapped in a cacoon of ecstasy that she prayed would never stop.
She lost all control of her body. She pitched violently against the slick tongue in her cunt, the hot finger in her ass, and the spunky prick in her mouth. Wave after wave of glorious sensation contracted her belly until all her energy was gone and she was bumped off the supporting male bodies-a sodden lump of meat, with a fixed, coma-filled smile pasted on her lips, and a glazed stare in her empty eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Harriet was afraid to move, afraid to awaken Carter lying at her feet. Yet the agony that raced from her shoulder muscles to every joint in her toes and fingers demanded that she move and stretch.
In all the time that Carter had thrashed with her on the bed, not a single knot grew loose. The ropes themselves did seem to become stretched, slightly; so there was a slight give to her movements, just enough so that she could roll her head and stretch the aching muscles of her neck. She was able to work her wrists and ankles to stir the blood and keep her extremeties from going numb.
She knew she could expect no sympathy from Carter, pleasant smile, flashing eyes and all. He was a vicious sadist who would leave her trussed up like this to rot.
She could expect no help from the outside.
Any help to be expected would have to come from those two others-Leonard and Morrow. The big one, Leonard, would volunteer no help. He was stupid and compassionless. That was obvious in his plodding movements, in his Neanderthal reactions to the behavior of the others. But he could be flattered. He could be bribed.
But she had nothing to bribe him with. Her body was his anyway, whenever he wanted it. She had no money. If she had, they would just take that too. She could never understand such bribery in the mystery stories she used to read. Thieves accepted payoffs when they had no compunction about thievery anyway. Authors did that to solve their plots. But then authors wrote fiction. What she was facing was reality.
But stupidity succumbed to flattery. Weren't there things in the Bible about that? Vanity, vanity-it was the rotten core of the human being. Even God knew that. She tried desperately to recall the passages she wanted to refer to, but her mind was blank. Frantically, she tried to recall anything, any phrase from the Bible, any word, and she could remember nothing.
What she had learned, she had learned mechanically. No, she hadn't learned anything. She had memorized. And the words meant nothing. But she would have to remember something about flattery. She would have to practice it and see what happened.
The one called Morrow-he kept this group together. Somehow there was the feeling that this whole episode was his idea. But what did it matter? They were here. They didn't need a motive anymore. Just the doing was their satisfaction.
At her feet, Carter stirred. Her heart seemed to stop beating, and then raced madly. Oh, God, was it going to start all over again. Where would it end? When?
The door opened. Leonard leered at her from across the room. His face seemed plastered with a shiny substance, like glue. The rest of his round, massive body was covered with wet hair. Her eyes went down to the penis hanging between his legs below his sagging belly. She couldn't tear her eyes from its fascinating girth. It was a circumcised penis with a red gash, like a toothless mouth.
"Hey, baby," Leonard called. "It's fucky-fucky time!"
Her throat found its voice, and she tried to ignore her own predicament. "My guests," Harriet asked. "Please, what have you done with the two young ladies?" The question didn't go beyond the tare covering her mouth.
Leonard came in and bounced the end of the bed and slapped his big palms against the sleeping skin of Carter's slim ass. "Come on there, Daddy-it's Big Leonard's fucky-fucky time."
Carter rolled over, yawned and stretched. He thumbed his nose at Leonard and looked up at Harriet. From where he lay, he could see only the open lips of the cunt that had sucked and fucked him to sleep. Shit, he hadn't gotten any sucking. Why the hell had they taped her mouth? Who the hell was going to hear her way the hell out here? And she hadn't been able to breathe his name the way he liked. He couldn't hear her beg him to fuck her. Shit, they always did after he got it in. No, after he blew them, that's when they begged for it. There wasn't a woman who didn't like to be sucked, once she was sucked.
He sighed, and pointed his hand, palm up, at Harriet. "Be my guest." He dropped his legs off the bed, stood up and stretched. The phallus curved out from his groin and hung like a stallion's. Harriet remembered the velvety feel of it on her cheek and against her face. Its penetration into her womb held a fascination, as the first one that had entered her private place. Her face flushed, and she was somehow grateful for the piece of tape across her lips that seemed to mask all expression on her face.
"Looks like she's getting hot again," Leonard said. "Think she's waiting for my prick?"
Carter smiled. "I don't know if it's yore's she's waiting for, but she's waiting for somebody's.
That's for sure."
Leonard absently scratched the matted hair on his belly. "Hey, how do I get it up, if she can't suck on it? What did you do-take off the tape and then stick it back on when she got done?"
"We agreed to all fuck her until we think she's ready to beg for it, right? Then we take off the tape just to hear her beg-when we're all here together."
"Okay," Leonard said agreeably. "That sounds fair enough."
He got down on his knees at the end of the bed and speculatively poked at the awaiting cunt with a thick forefinger.
"What's downstairs?" Carter asked from the door. "Any good?"
Leonard looked back over his shoulder and grinned. "Young pussy. Came up to have tea with the Reverend's wife. We gave them tea and when they got through blowing it, we gave them something else to blow."
While he talked to Carter, the finger ran up and down Harriet's slit. She felt the tingling sensation spread in her loins again. The humiliation of lying here naked was gone. But his carrying on of a conversation above her naked body, while one of the apes glided his fingers through her cunt was a total humiliation she could never blot out.
But she also knew that nothing of what was happening would ever be blotted from her mind, unless she went insane.
And that was the moment she knew she was going insane. A rational person couldn't survive this. A rational person could never admit what was going on.
Then Carter was out of the room and Leonard was between her legs. She closed her eyes, but she couldn't stop what he was doing. She felt an uncontrollable response to the penis that burned between her legs and lay in the slit, with the heavy crown probing just below her navel.
She took a deep breath. She pretended that what was happening was no sin. She pretended that this was the Reverend, and this is what she married him for. She pretended that she was Mommy while Daddy made love to her. She pretended that this was Mr. Jamieson and she was about to give him the very thing that used to excite him and make him happy and talkative. She pretended that she was one of the Sisters in the convent and the Rector had surprised them and was making her do a penance that she had always looked forward to.
She relaxed against the mattress and let her shoulders sink into the pillow. She employed the slack in the ropes to widen her thighs. She bent her wrists from the rope and let her long fingers trail on the massive shoulders that hunched under her chin.
She was surprised that just these little movements made the penis lying on her vulva start to harden. She could actually feel it getting stiff. She felt the crown dig at her soft underbelly, and she wanted to tell Leonard that if her hands were free, she would tuck his cock into her snatch and guide it into the hole and let it slide up her cunt so he could fuck her until he came.
He could come a hundred times, and she wouldn't complain.
That's the sort of flattery she had to get across to this animal. If she could separate him from the others, if she could talk him into stealing her away-then she could escape!
What had happened could not be undone. But there had to be some place it ended. There had to be some way of stopping it.
She started by being as compliant as the ropes would allow. Leonard lifted his face and looked down at her, while his mouth huffed as he worked up energy in his heavy moving loins.
He grinned down at her, with spittle drooling from the corners of his smelly lips. She wished she could smile back. She tried to smile with her eyes. She put all of her soul into her eyes, tried to fill them with shining love, tried to have subjugation splash out so he would lay claim to her and steal her away. Instead tears splashed, and Leonard just wrinkled his nose.
"Shit on the tears, baby," he grunted. "All you fucking babes think you're going to get out of trouble with tears."
He settled down to a rhythmic pumping. Harriet could feel the big prick scraping the walls of her cunt. It seemed to touch and ignite every enjoyable nerve.
It was maddening. Her body was betraying her. She had never experienced such jolting, delightful, exhilarating, startling spasms of pleasure!
She had felt it with Carter, but had fought it, denied it! Now she relaxed and welcomed it, hoping it would throw Leonard off guard and awaken an ego that would seek to protect her. But her body took advantage of it. Her body was on their side. She could trust no one-not even herself!
The wide, meaty, circumcised muscle moved in and out of her secret place with the rapidity of an engine. It took all her energy to command her body away from the feeling; and the same time it took all her energy to indulge in the feeling and influence Leonard. And she had to be careful that the indulgence was not for her personal enjoyment, but participated in it in order to attain her freedom.
She felt the awakening in the soles of her feet. She knew that with Carter she had experienced an orgasm for the first time. Now she was going to experience it again. But she had been forewarned. She knew what to expect. The expectation made her giddy.
She writhed and rolled as far as the ropes would allow. She was on the point of bursting, so Leonard slacked off.
"Hey, you really like that, don't you baby?"
His perspiring face was plastered to her cheek. His body reeked, and yet she knew she was inhaling the odor greedily. She felt an uncontrollable urge to dip her nose into his armpit, suck on the tufty hair and fill her lungs with the sharp, acrid stink that wafted up to her nostrils. The ropes on her wrists saved her from that. They had chafed the skin raw, and she knew that she was bleeding, but she didn't care.
Now was her chance. Now while he lay heavy and still, his big belly heaving with deep gasps.
She tried to swivel her hips. She tried to buck up into his prick. His heavy weight defied her. He would interpret the twitchings under him to be efforts to break free. He chuckled. She felt herself turn cold with anger.
It was a different anger this time. It was an anger developed from frustration. The frustration came from riding on the crest of a sexual wave that opened the pearly gates to heaven, only to have Leonard slam them shut by stopping his pistoning movement, by humping his ass back and sliding his cock out, to rest on the mushy surface of her cunt. She could feel the prick contract, squirm back into his scrotum. She could almost hear it sigh. She bucked her hips furiously, but stretched taut as she was, it was absorbed by the pillow under her hips.
Leonard chuckled again and reached down and pinched the skin of her trembling ass. He gathered a fold of the tight skin between thumb and forefinger, and pressed with all his strength. Her scream echoed and reechoed in her ears. She could hear his contented chuckle above it.
"Just hang on, baby. I'm gonna slip it in again. You're gonna feel it again. You're not getting off that easy. I fuck until I come, but I ain't gonna come for hours!"
She closed her eyes to his glassy stare. She didn't know if she did it from shame or from the hateful promise that he was going to do it again. What else could he do to her that he hadn't already done? He didn't know yet that the worst thing he could do to her was bring her up to the brink of that glorious sensation and then let it dissipate, disappear-leave her in a solemn state of depression.
He slapped his mammoth prick back into her waiting cleft, the pearly gates reopened, and St. Peter himself waved her on in, both arms pumping wildly, his feet jumping up and down in glee and glory. St. Peter was naked and swung the biggest cock she ever saw.
Oh, God, no, no! She pulled at the ropes on her ankles. She wanted to throw her soft, white legs across Leonard's humping ass and help him thrust his burning, lascivious prick deeper into the steaming cauldron of her cunt.
Leonard lowered himself and raised himself and shoved himself further into her. "Aaiiiiii....oooohhhh," he groaned.
The sound of his voice, the precise key on which he uttered his vocal plea, knifed to her groin and sent a convulsion of pleasure down her legs.
"Aaaahhh . ... ooohhhh . ... Uuuuggggg!"
His huge prick stuttered against her cervix. He swept both her breasts into his wild hands and shook them like tambourines.
"Whore! Bitch! Father-fucking-cock-sucker!"
His fist slammed against the side of her head. He hit her again. He had both his hands around her throat, choking her and slamming her head again and again into the suffocating pillow.
She stared back straight and unblinking into his cat-yellow eyes. She let her own wide-open eyes plead for her, but no message came through to him.
Shit, he had come ... come, godammit ... blew his prick one minute after getting it in her! It was her fucking, dumb fault-just laying there, waiting, defying him!
He saw her face start to change color, and relaxed his stiffened fingers. It was amazing how, as strong as he was, he could hardly bend the fingers back to free her neck and let her start breathing again. Let Carter fuck dead pussy. He wanted this one alive and bucking between his legs!
In one swipe he tore the tape from her lips. Her raw lips opened wide, and he was prepared to clamp his hands over her mouth if she screamed; but she only gulped at the free air. Lights came back into her eyes again, and her breasts settled down to an even heaving.
Leonard lowered his head and nuzzled the fat tits. The flesh was solid honey in his mouth, and he knew in a few minutes he'd be able to work at coming again. He felt better.
He said, "Now you know who's boss so you'll keep your mouth shut, right?"
She nodded back at him and closed her mouth to show him she understood. Then she parted her lips slightly to inhale all the air she could get. Her tongue licked her sore lips and they glistened.
Leonard licked his own in answer; then ran a bunch of short kisses across her mouth from corner to corner. His hands never stopped playing on her tits. He stuck his tongue in her mouth and held it against her tongue. She sucked back on his tongue and Leonard's ass squirmed in delight. He lifted up his head and smiled down at her.
"Hey, you really dig it with me, right?"
She tried to nod. She didn't dare speak.
Leonard said, "Shit on this stuff-I want you wrapping yourself around me, baby," and began tearing at the ropes that bound her wrists.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The cold beer irrigated Carter's parched throat. He marveled that he stayed in the sack so long without even thinking of a brew. He had fucked his share of hot, young mini-boppers, and he had even sunk a shaft in a wayward matron now and then. But getting the best of two worlds at one time upstairs really set him up, and he was glad he had stayed in there and got his fill. Not really his fill-that was yet to come. She hadn't wrapped those honky lips around his black cock yet, and he didn't make her say all the words he wanted her to say yet, but he would, the next time around.
Down in the middle of him he resented the time that Leonard was getting in the hay, but she'd know it was him when he was back. You bet your fuckin', black ass she would.
He sauntered back to the box for another beer, when he heard the scratching at the wooden door to his right. He paused. Cat or a dog? He liked pussies, all kinds. Fuckin' dogs turned him off. Queers liked dogs. He put his ear to the panel.
Something was fiddling with the latch and whimpering. A pussy couldn't reach the latch, but he never worried about anything that whimpered. Dogs or people.
He flipped the lock and swung the door open. It banged against something, or somebody. It was a naked chick, who, with the sudden opening of the door, rushed to cower in the corner. Only she wasn't cowering.
Carter found a string to an overhead light and turned it on. His eyes gazed at the most delectable piece of white meat he had ever seen. White hair, white skin, white pussy. Not a day over nineteen.
She didn't pull up a knee to hide her albino-haired cunt, and she wasted no effort to hide the firm, round, hand-filling orbs that pushed out like headlights from her chest.
Both of her palms were up against the wall behind her. She crouched slightly, in preparation to elude him when he made his grab.
Carter felt his cock tug at his balls. The short nap had refreshed him and the bottle of beer reminded him he was here to have a fuckin' good time. He smiled the flashiest smile he could conjure up. His black eyes filled with joy.
The girl's eyes were as blue as the sky. She kept them locked on his prick as if she had never seen one before. Her hands bunched into little fists, and she set her feet to run.
Carter noticed the long brown stain that ran from the inside of her thigh to her knee. Leonard, the cock-sucker, must have gotten to her before him. Okay, so he had the piece upstairs first, like they had agreed. Whoever had gotten into this one though, hadn't convinced her yet. The convincer was between Carter's legs. It was standing up now, pointing straight ahead at her. When it was pointing up at the ceiling, then it would be ready to pop. He'd have her suck it until it pointed to the ceiling. Her mouth looked like the cock-fodder on the cover of Playboy. Shit, Playboy knew nothing. It played games with college kids. This was man-sized packin'.
"Man, you're nice," he whispered heavily. "You got the cunt I love to suck."
The girl didn't bat an eye. The twin, blue orbs remained fixed on his staff, watching it stretch and quiver and come alive.
"We're gonna start right now. Ready?" She didn't move, and he broadened his smile. "You ready! You really ready!"
He bent his knees, spread his arms wide, shuffled forward like a football tackle. The girl's eyes broke from his cock. They quickly darted right and left. She suddenly looked to her right. Carter bent that way. The girl cut to her left and scampered to the other wall. Carter giggled. He shifted his direction, and came at her in the same shuffling, halting gait.
The girl didn't change expression. But her mouth opened and she vomited. It spattered from her lips and drooled from her chin, but her eyes remained fixed on his cock again, and her legs tensed to run.
Carter shook his head. "Baby, I hate that smell. I really do. Seems all you babes either shit, piss, or vomit. The question is can you fuck? I said fuck, baby ... like F-U-C-K ... like yore poppa fucks yore mamma ... like my prick's gonna fuck yore cunt ... like yore mouth's gonna suck my prick ... like yore tongue's gonna ream my asshole ... like my lips are gonna blow yore pussy ... like my dick's gonna stick yore ass ... like my balls are gonna bang yore cunt ... fuck, baby ... F-U-C-K."
During his litany, he watched the girl's feet. He watched to see if she rocked back on her heels or came up on her toes or shifted to the outside of one foot, to push off in the opposite direction. Her feet were motionless. He hopped in suddenly, expecting her to make a last-minute dash, but all she did was collapse to the floor.
Her head bowed slowly, reluctant to leave the hypnotizing cock that bowed and weaved right up to her face. Carter tilted up her chin. "Just put out yore tongue," he said softly. "Put it out like the doctor says when he wants to look in yore throat."
The small tongue came out slowly, and Carter put one finger on it. The mouth opened further. He put in two fingers, and it gagged wide.
"Don't know if I should let a vomity mouth like that on my clean cock," he said. "But maybe that'll make it clean, huh?"
He substituted his prick for the fingers. The girl retched, but hung onto the cock with her lips.
"Ah," Carter said. "Somebody been here before me, huh?"
Tears popped from the girl's blue eyes, and ran in salty crystals over her butterball cheekbones.
"Baby, ya gonna rust that cock," Carter admonished, and rubbed the tears off her cheek with two calloused thumbs. Then he dug the thumbs into her cheeks and pulled her head forward so that the cock went back into her throat. Her eyes closed as her pink lips met the scraggly hairs that pushed out from the base. "All the way, baby, that's it. Just lick like a puppy dog."
The girl brought her hands up to his balls and fondled them. She moved her head back slightly so that the bullet-point of his cock rested in the valley of her curled tongue instead of choking her in the throat.
"That's it," Carter grunted. "Somebody really showed ya how to go there, huh, baby?"
The girl's hands slipped upward to take his cock in her palms. It left the front half of the prick in her sucking, squeezing mouth, and she was able to lip it on the sides and tongue it across the crease on top.
"Aaaaggghhh," Carter moaned, and began to undulate his hips. The heat from his thick, erect penis swept up his belly and made knots in his throat. He moaned again as if in pain. The girl held his cock with her mouth, and placed her palms on the flat of his thighs, as his knees bent and his body leaned backward.
The girl's eyes seemed to devour every ripple of his trembling flesh. Without moving from her seated position, she undulated her own hips in keeping with his rhythm, and noticed the way his black eyes filmed over. She stroked his thighs provocatively.
"Do it to me, baby-oh, yore so good ... so go-o-ood!"
He was leaning back further and further. The girl's hands moved down his thighs to his knees ... down his shins, and the inside of his legs, so that she had to lean forward and grind the top of her head into his groin, to reach his ankles.
Then she lurched forward, driving her shoulder into his balls, while she bit down viciously on his cock, and scrambled over his screaming, writhing body to the door.
She bumped right into Morrow, who brought his knee up and caught her under the chin. She started to sink back to the floor, but Carter, although his face was livid and his hands were hugged tight to his cock, lashed out with his foot and caught her in the belly. Before she could double over, his other leg sprang out and smashed her in the cunt. It continued driving forward and upward, and stayed with her until she was pinned against the wall. He didn't relent, but kept pressing harder and harder until a wave of nausea flooded her body.
She felt warm, dizzy, and weak, totally unable to fight the sickening feeling that took over her body and her mind. Carter released his foot, and the girl staggered forward and fell to her stomach on the floor. She lay exhausted, spread-eagled on the linoleum.
Morrow stepped over her back and lowered himself on the cushions of her ass. Matter-of-factly he said, "She couldn't take my cock in her ass before, but I guarantee you she'll take it now."
Carter was on his knees, still hugging his cock and cursing. Elvira peeked in the doorway. "Oh, Caroline," she complained, "you always make such a fuss!"
Morrow planted his hands on Caroline's shoulders and pushed his dick between the soft folds of the white ass shaking under him. "Now," he said, "NOW!"
The head of his penis squeezed its way into the dry ass. Caroline opened her mouth and gasped.
The shine was gone from her blue eyes and a haze settled over the orbs like a gauze curtain. It was as if she was afraid to close her eyes no matter what happened.
Morrow rolled his hips against the sweet ass and felt his cock tear into the anal cavity. He grabbed at the flesh of her delicately shaped breasts in an effort to keep himself on top of the girl and to stop her from inching away.
He ran his hands over every pore of her back, kneading it, massaging it, while he tingled with the aching desire that was bursting from his balls. He kept his eyes fixed on the white-blonde hair swirling in front of him.
The feel of a tiny ass swelling under his stomach inflamed his brain. He crunched down on her and sent the whole shaft gliding in. The grip of the little hole on his penis was a circle of uncontrollable joy. That wonderful tight feeling ran up his legs and out the head of his cock and lubricated the long crack of Caroline's twisting ass. She screamed and another squirt of come laced the fissures of her anus. Morrow sank down on the squirming flesh and gave himself up to the feel of the gism backing up and oozing out over his prick and between the thighs of the limp girl.
Elvira said to him, "Why didn't you tell me that's what you wanted?"
A punch came out of nowhere and struck the side of her head. Her knees collapsed and she fell to the floor like a log.
Carter rubbed his bruised knuckles and glared down at the three bodies on the floor. "We're here for our fun, son of a bitch, and it's about time we started having some!" He opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a bottle of beer. "Okay," he yelled joyfully. "Everybody upstairs. We're going to have a party!"
This time the really white white girl was going to be his. So was the Reverend's wife at the same time. Morrow and Leonard could fight over the other pig.
CHAPTER NINE
First, Leonard had taken Harriet in a bunny-hug. The feeling of having her hanging onto him, with her hands clasped behind his neck and her tremulous legs snaked over his calves and tucked inside his ankles, made him cavort like a newly wed.
Then they both maneuvered so that her legs straddled his hips and she lowered herself onto his thick, upright penis.
Harriet watched Leonard's mouth open in a gasp as she bucked up and down on his body, pounding her hips against his thighs; then pulling up so that only the head of his penis was buried in her vagina. He was twisting beneath her, grabbing at the flesh of her hips in an effort to hold her down on him so that she couldn't pull away. It brought the tight feeling between her own legs to the breaking point.
She smiled down at him and he grinned back. She noticed he had a bicuspid missing, and the gap in his mouth heightened her contempt. She jazzed his prick faster.
She was free of the ropes. She had been raped, but was otherwise unhurt. She had only to continue with her plan to escape. She knew if she didn't, she would be dead. These animals would not despoil and debase her-and the girls downstairs-if they had any intention of leaving them alive. This was kidnap and rape, and it carried a murder penalty. They might as well commit the murder for that same penalty.
Leonard's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her buttocks. He was writhing and squirming, and from her recent experiences she knew he was reaching a climax. With just the thought of it, her own excitement began to build in her loins, and she found herself bouncing in a joy she hadn't anticipated.
Leonard's digging fingers pulled the cheeks of her ass apart until she could feel the thickness of one finger search out the tiny, elastic hole of her rectum. She ground her hips furiously, feeling the length and hardness of his thick cock slide moistly, hotly between her tightly clenched thighs. His finger inched its way into the tiny passage of her anus, impaling her, holding her skewered like a marshmallow on a stick.
"There ... there ... that's it, baby," Leonard grunted.
Suddenly the giant prick expanded like yeast. She felt it work its way up the walls of her vagina. Her own cunt muscles involuntarily contracted and wrapped around the cock like a smooth, fleshy blanket. The pain of his roughness subsided as she skewered up and down on the inflamed prick, her fingernails digging into his belly, scratching at the soft, fat flesh. She could feel the flood of her orgasm about to spill, and she pushed down insanely on his cock until she could feel its entire length filling her right up the belly.
"Aaaaggghhh . ... now ... now ... NOW!" she shouted as her vagina screwed tight on his pulsing shaft. "I'm coming!" she blurted through the hot haze that blanked out her mind.
Harriet's words and her passionate grab freed the semen from Leonard's dancing balls. "Yaaahoooo . ... Yaaahoooo...." She wildly ground out her own climax as he felt his boiling sperm shoot deep into her awaiting cunt. "Yaaa, I'm coming . ... Yaaa, I'm coming...." he echoed, feeling the contractions and the jerking inside her until his cock went limp and flaccid and slid out of her, semen still spilling from the head in thick, white globs.
They collapsed next to each other, Harriet keeping her eyes tightly closed in order not to see Leonard's face. She felt herself wrapped in an envelope of mortification and she wanted to die.
She managed to say, "I have to go, please."
"Are you kidding?" He thrust her back and made her look at him. "Go where, Cunt?"
"I must go to the washroom, please. I should have gone when you untied the ropes. It's a wonder I haven't pee-peed all over the bed!"
"Go ahead and piss," Leonard bellowed. "Piss and shit, baby, if it makes you feel good."
"Oh, Leonard!" It was the first time she had used his name. She felt him pat her on the shoulder and she knew he liked that. "Leonard, I just can't do it here-please, take me to the bathroom."
"Toilet, you mean, don't you? Can, John-the crapper, right?"
"Yes, that's what I mean-the toilet."
"The crapper"
"The crapper."
He grinned sideways at her. "Okay, lady. The guys'll probably bust me for this, but let's go take a piss."
In the hall they heard voices and a thump from below. Leonard shoved her forward. "Keep moving before I piss on your ass," he challenged. She knew this was about as friendly as he could get. She didn't have much to work with, so she couldn't afford to overlook the slightest kindness on his part.
She entered and started to close the door behind her, as if she were taking it for granted that he'd wait in the hall for her. But he pushed right in behind her.
"Sit down and spread your legs," he said, "and I'll piss right through them."
Her stomach came up into her throat. The small room spinned around and she had to grasp the sink for support. The idea was so repugnant, so despicable!
She collapsed on the toilet seat and tried to calm her trembling legs. She took a deep breath and concentrated on passing the urine that inflamed her kidneys.
Not a drop would come out. She mashed her eyes shut to blot out Leonard before her, who grasped his penis between his second and third fingers like a cigar, and aimed it in the V of her legs. She bore down in a frantic effort to urinate. She had to. She had to! If she didn't ease the pressure, she would burst.
She thought of pastures and trees and babbling brooks ... tried to remember sitting by pebbly streams, walking through creeks, standing under waterfalls....
A stream of piss hit the toilet bowl and gurgled in the water under her. It was the arcing splash from Leonard's urinating cock, and she turned her head away in disgust.
The anger came back. And with the anger came the desire to express that anger. The piss splattered from her in a shower of noise and drowned out Leonard's weak, amber-colored stream. The splash was followed with a resounding fart that echoed from tiled wall to tiled wall. A flush of shame swept across her cheeks, until she noticed Leonard paid no attention.
He shook the last drops of yellow urine from his penis and wiped his fingers on his hairy thigh. Anger again replaced shame and she tried to fart again, but it wouldn't happen. She thumbed the roll of toilet paper from the wall beside her knee, and patted her vaginal lips dry. Strings of Leonard's and Carter's semen mixed with the sponged-off urine, and for the first time, Harriet was aware of pregnancy. Her stomach churned again and her legs trembled again, and she could hardly lift herself from the seat. She fumbled for the water closet handle to flush the toilet bowl, and used it to support herself as she stood up.
She moved to wash her hands, but Leonard pushed her roughly into the hall. "We ain't got time for fancy jazz-the guys are gonna yell bloody murder as it is." He shoved her down the hall, back to the bedroom.
She had no other plan, but to convince Leonard that he was her lover and thereby solicit his aid. But now he was over the glorious feeling of coming and he had taken his piss and now he was right back to being the same animal he was before.
They had left the bedroom door open, but now it was closed. Leonard kicked it back, dragged Harriet in, and was met by four pairs of staring eyes.
CHAPTER TEN
"Well, here's the playboy of the western world," Morrow commented. Carter just glared. Elvira was sitting on the bed, holding a strange-looking, brown cigarette. Her legs were pulled up so that her big breasts were resting on her knees. The dark patch of her pubic area dissolved into the brown slit of her ass, and Harriet was shocked at her presence. Caroline, beautiful Caroline, was standing against the far wall, the palms of her hands flat against it, her feet braced to run. The gorgeous nudity took Harriet's breath away. She had never seen either of these girls nude before and the sight disturbed her. She wondered what she looked like to them, and found herself involuntarily sucking in her stomach muscles and attempting to stand straight instead of cowering behind Leonard. Morrow addressed her.
"Looks like everybody's had a piece of you, lady, except me." He continued as if he had a set speech prepared. "Now me, I dig bondage. I like my broads laced-up tight. I like to see them struggling to get out of chains and locks. I like to see their pussies jumping. It makes my prick get hot and hard. But more important, it makes me come a dozen times a day instead of once a week. Does your old fart of a minister give it to you once a week or once a year?"
Leonard snickered. "Carter Baby copped her cherry, would you believe it?"
Morrow's eyes rolled over Leonard like a tractor and squashed him into the ground. "The reason this cunt was tied up is because that's the way I like it, like I just said. Now bring her over here and let her juice up my prick while I think what we're going to do."
Leonard shrugged and grasped Harriet by the arm. Harriet found herself wringing her hands. She looked to Caroline, whose eyes were riveted on the dangling cocks that surrounded them. Elvira gazed smilingly at the ceiling, watching a blue ring of smoke circle upward. One hand absently came down to her crotch and fingered her cunt.
That was disgusting. She looked back at Caroline, and her heart went out to her. The girl's head shifted like a bird, from one male crotch to the other. Her lovely shaped breasts, pert and taut, jutted out firmly from the silky sheen of her chest. Her thighs and legs were like a movie star's.
Harriet inhaled sharply at the unique coloring of her vulva-the albino-white of the thin pubic hairs let the pink tinge of the symmetrical crest show through. The lips of the vagina were smooth and hairless. A brown stain of blood showed on Caroline's thigh, and Harriet wanted to weep.
"Go on, Cunt." Leonard shoved her forward. "Crawl."
He hit her legs behind the knees and she dropped to the floor. There were going to be further indignities, but she didn't know what else she could be made to do that she hadn't already done.
She crawled to Morrow on hands and knees.
"She knows how to sweet-suck a prick," Carter volunteered. "I guarantee she's the fastest tongue in town."
Leonard looked puzzled. "I thought you didn't take the tape off her mouth!"
"I didn't. I can tell by her eyes, man. You can always tell a cock-sucker by her eyes."
Hearing herself discussed so loathsomely before Caroline and Elvira made Harriet cringe. She hesitated in her crawl, and someone booted her in the ass. She scampered across to Morrow's knees.
"Just lay your big tongue up here," Morrow said, "and let me see for myself." He reached down and nuzzled Harriet's breasts while she poked her tongue at him. "Wider," he said. She opened her jaws as far as they would reach and let her tongue hang out.
"Remember I ain't been sucked by her yet," Carter said, "and I'm supposed to have dibs."
"Take Whitey over there," Morrow answered without taking his eyes from Harriet's tongue or his hands from her breasts. He rolled the nipples between his fingers and tugged on them. Saliva rolled from Harriet's tongue and dripped on Morrow's knee. He dropped to the floor so they were face to face. Without expression, he wiped his lips across her drooling mouth.
"You know what your husband's first words to us were?" he asked into the cavern of her mouth. "He said, 'What the fuck's going on here!' "
Carter said evenly, "He said, What goes on here."
"He meant what the fuck goes on here," Morrow answered, still inside her mouth. "Now we're really going to show him what the fuck goes on here."
His mouth sank into Harriet's breasts. Without volition, her hands came down to his head and massaged his scalp. She felt something brush her lifted-up ass, and then a hungry mouth whipped into her anus. She lost all control of her body and trembled violently. Her eyes rolled in her head, and over Morrow's shoulders she saw Caroline licking her lips. She kept her eyes on Caroline's body while the hot mouths worked on her ass and tits. Wave after wave of tingling sensation thrilled the corpuscles of her skin. She shifted her knees to spread her ass wider and let the probing tongue angle up her rectum. Morrow's hands and mouth, on her breasts and nipples at the same time, made her frame shake like jello.
"Ooohhh ... Aaiiii!" It was so pleasurable to give voice to the utter satisfaction of her being that she found herself repeating the moaning sounds for Caroline's benefit. "Ooohhh ... Aaiii!"
Like an automaton, Caroline moved forward to Harriet. She straddled Morrow's head and brought her transparent cunt nest up to Harriet's lips. She pushed it up against Harriet's mouth. Her fingers grasped Harriet behind the head and pulled her forward. She separated her thighs even further and rested the fulcrum of her cunt on the bridge of Caroline's nose.
She hated boys. She loathed their vulgarities, could see nothing beautiful in their board-like bodies. They were vile. They were dirty. These men were vile and dirty. They had despoiled her with unspeakable lust. Elvira, too. But Elvira was just like them really. Lustful. Crude. Vulgar. She was a born whore. She was everything Reverend Pike railed against. He knew women were children of the devil. That's why she loved Harriet so. She knew the devil didn't live in Harriet, otherwise Reverend Pike wouldn't be married to her. Harriet was pure. But now she had been shoved into the loathsome mire of these lewd bodies. She had to save Harriet. She had to show her there were clean, healthy bodies to be loved. Pure bodies. Golden-white bodies like hers. She was an angel. Mommy told her she was an angel. She looked like an angel. If she had been born in Greece or Italy or one of those places, they would have built a shrine to her. They would come to worship at her naked feet. They would string garlands of flowers on the red-bud nipples of her breasts. Women would idolize her. She didn't care about the men. She could kill men.
She was reluctant to leave her bath this morning. The hot water and soap felt so good on her body that she had spent two hours just lathering herself and running her slippery hands all over her young, pink flesh.
She kissed her arms and her fingertips. She lifted up her cupcake breasts and tongued the pea-hard nipples. She hugged herself. She caressed her thighs. She ran searching fingers between her toes and tickled the bottoms of her small, chubby feet. She could feel the white, fuzzy pussy between her legs glow from her ministrations. She lathered it with a new bar of Ivory soap and ran her fingers up and down the slit to remove every stain, every fleck of contamination that might have been generated by the moist contractions of her bowels and kidneys.
She injected the bar of Ivory and ran her thighs together to make certain no germs on her fingers were left to irritate the soft, pink walls of her pussy. Her clitoris glided up and down on the soap and stretched itself from the folds of her cunt lips and reached out for the warm water that she sprayed like a fountain into her vagina. The sensation lifted her scalp. It unzipped her rectum and let the bathwater sponge up into her anal cavity and push out every vestige of fecal matter. The water tingled the scrunched-up muscles of her ass and made her clitoris even more sensitive to the spraying water so that it burned hotter between her thighs and stretched out of the shelter of the cunt lips and popped between her fingertips like a boy's penis. She rubbed up and back on the skin, and pulsating waves of heat convulsed her body and she moaned, "Aarghhhh ... Aarghhh ... Aarghhh...." as she watched herself in the mirror at the end of the tub and gloried in the facial contractions reflecting back at her.
Now she plunged the white cushion of her cunt against Harriet's mature and understanding lips. She rolled her hips and thighs and waited for Harriet's tongue to delve into her pussy and find her shy clitoris and suck it out of her cunt.
Her head whipped from side to side with the agony of the anticipated sensation. She whimpered and moaned at the delight that climbed higher and higher like the whine of a jet airliner.
Her mouth fell open and her tongue lolled out and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Now she finally felt what they were feeling and the excitement was too much to bear. When Harriet's hands embraced her buttocks and pulled her tighter, the glory of her conquest, after so many Sunday afternoons of despondency, released the tension of her youthful body and nearly tore her apart.
A scream started in her throat that was immediately choked off by the black penis of the mulatto boy who had shoved his filthy cock in her mouth in the pantry and now was doing it again. For a moment, just a moment, her body stiffened and turned cold, as it always did.
But then there was Harriet loving her delightfully, ecstatically between the legs; mouthing her white cunt with a wide, flat, big, hot, wet, female tongue, and tugging the clitoris between her lips and starting the familiar sensation that tore her rectum to ribbons. She slobbered on the prick in her mouth and then grasped it eagerly with both hands.
Other hands were tugging at her hips, and she felt herself sinking backwards, another shaft coming up into her ass. The waiting rectum screwed down tight. It was so different than before, so different!
Elvira adored the sight before her marijuana-filled eyes. Caroline-who was a lez-had her ass planted in Morrow's cock-filled lap. His hands were wrapped around her middle and his head was tucked into the small of her back while he swirled his flat buttocks around to make the gism come up into Caroline's well-worked rectum.
He was fucking her up the ass, just as he had before, only in a different position.
Carter was squatting in front of Caroline, fucking her mouth with the prick she hadn't yet gotten, and was making a mental note to get, now. He had his fingers laced on the top of Caroline's head, and was grunting, "Suck, honkey, suck, honkey, suck, honkey."
Leonard was behind Harriet's knees, fucking her dog-fashion, his prick alternating between sliding into her cunt and her ass; while Harriet kept her lips glued to Caroline's pussy and licked Caroline's pricky clit as if she had never seen one before. Shit, Caroline had fucked her with it!
All those goddam Sundays of boring teas, when they could have been having a ball-including the Reverend if the phony cock-sucker came home at a decent hour instead of fucking the sheep up on the hill.
She slid from the bed and surveyed the jolting flesh before her, trying to make up her mind where she wanted to fit in and what she wanted to have done to her. She had a pretty good idea what she wanted to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Reverend Pike finished his sermon, blessed the congregation, and hurried to his little office in the rear of the hall. He had to meet Mr. Ander at four-fifteen. He smiled in fond memory. He had met Mr. Ander in Chicago. That is he didn't know then his name was Ander. It wasn't until he signed the register at the YMCA, Alex Ander, that he knew his name. He still didn't, of course. The employment of the name was so transparent that his breath sucked into his lungs with fright that the desk clerk would make some sort of comment, perhaps throw them out or even call the police.
To the desk clerk it was just another name. A person was either Mr. Alexander, or Mr. Alex Ander. It made no difference. He breathed easier, and went to the room with Mr. Ander. It overlooked Wentworth avenue, and probably was not the most fashionable address in the city. But it was a usable one.
It was strange. He had gone into Marshall Field's to buy a hat-he had heard they give a discount to the clergy-and was irritated by deplorable service. It was while waiting, while he was trying on a number of hats in the mirror, that this very nicely dressed, matronly lady approached him.
"Aren't you Reverend Pike?" she asked.
He was surprised and flattered that he would be recognized in Chicago, but she told him she had seen his picture in the paper vis-a-vis that horrible orgy that he had witnessed.
She wanted him to describe it to her. He blushed and stammered and minimized the flagrant display of fleshy sins.
She stood very close to him. Her ample breastworks rubbed his arm and, in gesturing to him, she kept putting multi-ringed fingers on his hip. He suddenly realized that her hand had gone around his hip and was resting on his buttock. He tried moving away, but now the woman's eyes were glazed and her lips were wet from her flicking tongue.
"Tell me, Reverend," she said huskily, "were they fucking!"
He broke away from her then and ran into the arms of Mr. Ander. One explanation led to another. They both commisserated over the state of the female in America. They went to lunch. Mr. Ander picked up the check. He invited Reverend Pike to his room in the YMCA. He admitted his name wasn't Ander, but it assured absolute discretion, because he had a social security card and a drivers license to support it.
Mr. Ander was extremely convincing. And his tight, hip-hugger trousers ill-concealed the enticing roll of his masculine cock.
Putting a soft, white hand on the Reverend's knee, he leaned over the little table of the booth in Walgreen's and said, "Reverend, you do love to suck a cock, don't you?"
Reverend Pike stayed at the YMCA for two days, and weeped bitter tears when Mr. Ander didn't put in an appearance on the third.
He never went back to Marshal Field's, but now he had Mr. Ander's letter. He was to meet him in town at four-fifteen.
The Reverend never missed a formal appointment.
But he had to hurry. Today he had planned to finish the compilation of case histories for the documentary publisher in Chicago. The publicity, or the fame, he had received from that monstrous trial had brought a number of speaking engagements throughout the country.
He was gratified that a small congregation such as his, in a country town as small as this, could get national publicity because of his part in the affair.
He used his congregation and his town as a model of propriety and morals, to prove that if you separate the female of the species from the male you can have law and order and a model society.
It did wonders for his income, in this small community where the cost of living was low and the Internal Revenue Service made few investigations for hidden income.
The Reverend smiled wryly. Take those clapboard nursing homes that were springing up on the hillsides and being tucked into every valley. Now there was a good paying deal! He served as a "spiritual consultant" for three of them, at one hundred dollars a month each. True he had to put in an appearance once a month, but that was just to collect his checks. Medicare was paying it, but he didn't want the checks mailed to his house.
But what he was getting was nothing compared to the doctors around the county. Those famous Fifth Avenue, Michigan Boulevard, and Beverly Hills doctors with their suites of offices and garages of Cadillacs were peasants compared to what these country practitioners were piling up. Take Jeremiah Fibbs, MD-last year he billed Medicare for 4,560 visits to 54 patients. That was an average of more than eighty visits each! They were lucky if they saw him once. Besides, he recorded 8,275 injections to just 149 outpatients. If he had performed the rites, those people would look like pincushions! That brought $75,000 that he was able to squirrel away last year.
Yes, by Heaven, the next time his professional peers cast remarks about the parasitic clergy, he was prepared with an answer.
"I don't charge fifty cents for a bedpan," he would tell them, "and a dollar if it's warm."
Now he cleared his desk, and hurried to finish the chapter he was working on:
Marian made a slight whinny as Roger bit down firmly on her tit. "Come on," she said, "take your clothes off. Turn about is fair play and all that." Roger continued to suck on her tit while she undid the buttons on his shirt.
When the shirt had been discarded, she pulled Roger down on top of her and met his lips with her own, running her hot hand into his pants at the same time. Roger flinched with pleasure as she grabbed his hard dick with her hand and squeezed just enough to allow the nails of her fingers to prick and tease the organ.
With her other hand, Marian undid the button at the top of his pants and with both hands slid them down over his legs. The underwear followed. Roger lay nude.
Marian flipped Roger to his side with ease, then herself to the top, where she bent down over his middle, the tool stiff and throbbing in her hands. Roger laid his head back on a pillow and looked at the ceiling. He knew that Marian would put her mouth on it and he could hardly stand the wait.
At first, she just worked on the head of the dick with her fingers, pulling, scratching, and rubbing here and there. Then she bent farther over and stuck her long red tongue out to lick the head of the growing dick. Roger hunched his middle up toward her face, trying to ram the stiff tool into her mouth, but she wasn't ready for that.
"Don't get in such a hurry," she teased Roger.
Roger shut his eyes and lay back to enjoy it. To him, it felt as if half his body was consumed in dick. With his eyes shut, he saw his dick the size of a civil war canon about to explode.
Marian placed her tongue back on the head of the dick, lapping at the tip. Then she moved down, licking at the back with it, lapping down farther around his balls, playing with them, galloping around between his legs while the pressure inside him grew to an almost unbearable strength.
But she realized that he was working quickly toward a climax, so she placed the entirety of her mouth on his aching dick, biting on it gently, then sucking as hard as she could and moving her mouth up and down on the pole.
Roger clinched his fists, his teeth were driven tightly together, then the come was shooting from his dick. He could feel the warmth of it as it shot from his body and into Marian's eager mouth. With his back arched, he pumped her mouth full of sperm in unsteady rhythmatic jerks.
When Marian raised up off his still hard dick, the come was oozing out of her mouth and running down to her chin. She grabbed a handful of bed clothing and wiped her mouth, spitting the come on the clothing and then tossing it to the floor in a heap.
Roger raised up and quickly unzipped Marian's slacks at the back. He had completely forgotten that she was still partially dressed. Marian responded by helping him strip her, and in a jiff they were both naked.
Roger placed his mouth on her tits again and began to suck on them violently almost. Marian responded by purring softly as she lay similar to the way Roger had, her eyes cast to the ceiling in a cloudy blur, relaxing, enjoying her senses.
Slowly, he worked his mouth down from her breasts to her soft smooth belly, licking his tongue over it and working down to the pubic hair. Then Roger arched his arm down to her pussy and tweaked the hole with his fingers to see how wet it was.
Marian responded by raising one leg and laying it on top of the couch back, the other thrown to the floor in the opposite direction so that Roger could get to her precious parts better.
And Roger was there, lapping his tongue over her leg at the outside of the hole, working first toward her knees, then reversing and sucking and lapping loudly back to her cunt. Like Marian had done with him, he waited and worked with her, casting her into a sexual frenzy before actually entering into oral sex.
When Marian's eyes were closed, her muscles tightening, Roger placed his entire mouth over the opening to her pussy and teased it gently with the tip of his tongue. Then he rammed his stiff tongue into her juicy cunt with all the force he had, again and again working the wet tissues in and out; sucking and blowing and making Marian writhe in ecstasy, till finally, she moved her legs in and wrapped them around Roger's neck. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his head when she began munching his face softly, the come flowing from her young body into his mouth.
When Marian was reaching a peak again, Roger moved his mouth up and placed his lips on her again. His iron-hard dick was throbbing with excitment when he rammed it into her climaxing cunt. Marian sucked hot air down her throat noisily as Roger pumped his peter into her harder and farther with each stroke. The organ was growing larger and larger, it felt to Roger, and he pistoned hard as he could as the come spurted into Marian's organ.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The view to her half-lidded eyes was unbelievable. She wanted to put her head into her arms and sob. But each arm was fastened to the wall above her head, and each naked leg was spread and tied to some contraption Morrow had devised on the floor.
At least no one could come up behind her, which was more than Caroline could anticipate. Caroline was strung the same way, with hooks from the ceiling and nails in the floor. But she was suspended in the center of the room, and could be attacked from either side, or both ways at once.
Elvira had pleaded to be tied. At first they ignored her. But than to quiet her, more than from any demonstration of desire, they had given her Harriet's place in bed, using the same ropes to truss her wrists and ankles.
At least Harriet and Caroline could look at each other. Meeting Caroline's eyes now, she felt the flush of hot blood sweep up her neck and face, to the roots of her hair. Caroline didn't blush. She smiled back sweetly, tenderly.
My God, my God, my God, Harriet asked herself for the thousandth time, what have I done! Could she have prevented the horrible scene that was enacted in this room? Could she somehow have killed herself with a razor blade in the bathroom, instead of doing nothing, nothing, nothing at all to capitalize on the opportunity of her freedom?
What had she visited upon these poor children, Elvira as well as Caroline, by having them over to tea? She had no idea, of course, that Elvira-naive, country bred, polite Elvira-was a wanton woman. At her age! And to have discovered that Caroline was in love with her was shocking. Certainly Caroline must be desired by every male in the township. She had felt it was only a matter of time before Caroline left home and migrated to one of the big cities to be introduced to the carnal desires of this evil and lascivious world. She felt it her duty to delay this as long as she could-her duty to instill in Caroline a desire for the finer and more worthwhile things in life.
Instead, she had debased Caroline. Even these wicked and obscene men had been unable to make her succumb to their filthy needs, their odious desires. She had submitted, but had never surrendered. Harriet was proud of her. But Harriet was ashamed of herself. She had let Caroline submit herself to her. She had allowed Caroline to surrender to her. And she had enjoyed it. They had both enjoyed it. But it was worse for her, because she knew it was wrong. Caroline accepted it as a dream fulfilled. But hadn't she too, really? Hadn't she, when she surrendered to Leonard, really used her plan-that was no plan at all-as an excuse to fulfill her own base desires?
We're all human. We're all weak, her brain told her. But Mankind's job is to eliminate temptation. These beasts had deliberately flaunted temptation, had made them partake of temptation. Tears rolled unchecked from Harriet's eyes and her stretched body shook with sobs. It was too much for her. It was all too confusing and complex for her.
"Man, look at those tits bounce!" Leonard shouted, bounding into the room like a naked ape.
"Shut the fuck up!" Morrow sauntered in and surveyed his handiwork. "We had to start all over again account of you, and now I can't even get a hard-on."
He moved around Caroline, and put an arm around her back and cupped a breast in his hand. "Get away from me," she hissed. Harriet felt herself livid with anger. She didn't know whether it grew from what seemed to be a continuation of this comedy or whether it was because she felt a proprietary interest in Caroline.
Caroline shouted, "Harriet, please make them stop! Please!"
She knew that Harriet couldn't make them stop. It was her declaration of love for Harriet that she wanted Harriet to know about.
"Shit, knock it off," Elvira called from the bed. "A little feel never hurt anybody!" She giggled and added, "Neither has a good piece of ass or a good blow job."
Harriet was mortified at Elvira's seemingly complete knowledge of things, terms, and conditions.
"Hey, Mrs. Pike," Elvira further needled, "how did you like fucking Caroline? Never knew she swung that way, did you!" She lowered her voice and muttered to herself: "And I didn't know you did too, baby. Live and learn, and I've been watching the dogs and pigs!"
Harriet suddenly loathed her as much as she did Morrow and Carter. She was surprised she didn't feel any loathing for Leonard. In appearance he was the most despicable of the three.
Yet, since she had joined him in mutual sexual ecstasy, she felt a tenderness toward him she wasn't prepared to admit. But she had to admit that she didn't loathe him. That was a fact.
Morrow advanced, and she began to tremble. He had one hand hidden behind his back. As he came in front of Caroline, she saw the hand behind his back. She yelled, "He's got a whip. He's got a whip!"
Morrow's expression didn't change. He rarely smiled; he rarely frowned. Now he calmly took the whip from behind his back and stretched its length on the floor. He kept the warted butt tight in his hand.
"Now I'm going to whip your ass," he said.
Harriet felt the blood drain from her body. "Don't, don't," she pleaded.
Morrow dragged the whip forward.
"Haven't I done everything you asked? Haven't we-haven't all of us?"
"What have you done?" he said, twirling the whip edge on the floor.
"Everything!"
"What's everything?"
Harriet was mute.
"Come on, Mrs. Pike," Elvira chortled. Her big, guffawing laugh broke out again. "Say fuck and shit and piss and prick and cunt-that's what we fuckers dig!"
Morrow turned to Elvira. The whip moved up in a black flash and cut across the room. The tip nipped her right breast and drew blood. Before she could scream, it came stinging back again and caught her on the thigh. It left a long, red streak from hipbone to knee.
Morrow smiled thinly. "Before we're all fucked out, you might wind up to be my girl after all."
Elvira didn't answer back. She just shivered and licked her lips.
The whip flashed again and tipped her in the underbelly, just above the cunt. She whimpered and began to grind her ass. The whip snapped. It didn't hit her. It just snapped in the air just above her now perspiring flesh. She began bucking her ass into the pillow. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The whip sang through the air again and nicked her shinbone. The blood seeped through.
"You coming yet, baby?" Morrow asked. "Starting to feel the jazz pour into your cunt?"
"One more time," she begged. "One more time, please!"
He brought the whip back, arced it, threw it out, and then let it fall softly on Elvira's jiggling breasts.
The whole bed bounced with her, as contraction after contraction squeezed and released her cunt like a real fuck.
"Put it in," she gasped. "Please, please-stick in the whip ... all the way up!"
It seemed to amuse Morrow. He lay the tapering, warted handle on the bottom of the cunt lips and began to slide it forward and up. It hung and stopped at various meaty obstructions. He jiggled it and played with it and forced it up higher and higher. The cunt began working like the mouth of an anteater. It chewed up the limber handle, swallowed the shaft until it began getting soft and unenforceable. The rest trailed from the cunt like a telephone line, across Elvira's thighs and across the bed and onto the floor.
Morrow started to step down on the edge. "When I tromp down here, you yell there." He did, and Elvira yelled. He did it again, and she yelled again. She began to laugh like crazy. Morrow began to laugh with her. It was the first time anybody had heard him laugh. He doubled over and held his sides.
"Hey, look at this!" he shouted to nobody and everybody.
He brought his heel down on the tip of the whip. At the other end Elvira bucked her hips and guffawed. Morrow could hardly catch his breath. He started to pick up the whip and pull it from Elvira's cunt.
"Yeah, man," he hiccupped, "you might get to be my girl after all!"
"Hey, how about letting me try?" Leonard asked. "Let me stomp on it and see what it does."
"Go away, idiot-it doesn't do anything."
"Oh," Leonard said.
Elvira started laughing like crazy again. "Hey, fat boy, come up here and diddle me."
"Stay away from her," Morrow ordered over his shoulder.
"Let him suck up the blood anyway," Elvira hollered. "Shit, I'm bleeding like a pig."
"Okay, suck up the blood, if you want," Morrow said.
Leonard hurried to the edge of the bed. He began to lick the lines of blood that flowed from her thighs and legs. He rolled his tongue and spooned up the bubble of red froth on her breast.
Elvira dug her fingers into his bushy head. "Go on down and suck me like a man," she ordered.
When Leonard dipped down, arrowed his fingers into her pussy, and began to slurp up the cunt juices, Elvira gazed over his head at Harriet. "That's how a pussy is really licked," she said. "Later I'll give you a crack at it."
Morrow brought the whip around his arm and pointed it at Harriet.
"Please," she gasped, "please! I'm begging you!"
His laughter and smile was gone. "Beg, lady. Beg and remember your old man who cracked my head with a two-by-four because we were getting free pussy from free cunts who wanted it as bad as we did. He didn't like it that way. It was immoral to him. Free human beings, citizens of this country, have to conform to his tastes, to what he thinks is right and proper. Where the shit does he get off with that crap? Who the hell elected him? God? What God? I got to follow every half-cracked preacher who thinks he knows how I should live? I never told him when to fuck you or not fuck you. I don't care what he likes or doesn't like. He had no fucking right to beat the shit out of three guys or three girls who didn't know what the hell was happening. He had no goddam right, you hear!"
The whip whistled through the air and wrapped around Harriet's hips. He threw it instead of lashed it, so it didn't sting when it hit. But Harriet was so prepared for the knife-like cut that she screamed when it fell. At the same time, her asshole opened up and her bowels moved and she shit all over the floor.
"Hey, look what I got me."
Carter came into the room, leading a giant Great Dane on a leash. The dog undulated around the room, dragging Carter behind him.
"You mean you went out bare-assed naked and got yourself a dog?"
"I mean this goddam dog was chained up in the shed in the back and is about as useful as three tits on my ass!"
Grateful for the change of attention from her bowel movement to the entrance of the Great Dane, Harriet said, "That isn't our dog-we don't have a dog. No dog would allow you on the premises without warning me!"
"Look, lady," Carter began; then he was aware of the wet shit that dribbled down Harriet's legs and splattered on the floor. He wrinkled his nose. "Yore a shitty cunt-lapper. My story is that this cock-suckin' hound laps yore cunt for kicks every night. I don't know any other way you been gettin' it, and I want to see him suck yore pussy, now!"
Behind him, Leonard came up on his knees. "Hey, let him suck this one-it's too piss-smelly for me. I want the lady again."
Carter flashed his white smile. "If that's piss-smelly, what ya goin' to do with the shit-dribbles hangin' from this one?"
""Her shit I'll eat!" Leonard volunteered.
"Okay, come and lick it off." Carter waited with hands on hips, heeling the dog, and watching Leonard come around to Harriet's body.
"Just fun and games," Morrow said. "That's all you guys think of-fun and games."
"That's why we're here, right, Leonard?" Carter said.
Carter was surveying the brown-streaked limbs. The shit had missed the cunt, but had squished up between the buttocks and thighs and plastered the curled hair around her bottom.
He looked up into Harriet's mortified eyes. Her face was wan, pale and tired.
"I'll suck you good," he promised. "I'll suck you as clean as the day you were born. I'll suck you, baby, like you've never been sucked-even by me-and when we're all done, you can shit again and I'll eat it again!"
"Greater love hath no man," Carter sneered.
Leonard answered with a wicked grin. Then he shifted his gaze to Morrow. "Looks, by God, like I got me a girl too. I guess that leaves Carter here with the lez or the dog."
Carter's smile broadened. "Have yore fun, boys. I'm goin' to see how this dyke dog digs albino pussy." He turned and led the Great Dane up to Caroline's snatch. Her blue eyes watched the dog's dragging tongue. When he tasted her snatch, she quivered; then her eyes moved up and met Harriet's.
The two women kept their eyes riveted together, while Leonard gobbled Harriet, and the Great Dane tongued Caroline.
Morrow climbed on top of Elvira. "How about some plain, old-fashioned fucking?" he said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When Reverend Pike dined with Mr. Ander, after a cocktail, he couldn't resist telling him about an experience he had as a little boy-that is, not his experience, but his father's. It made him want to be his father-that is not do what his father did, but to do what his mother did to his father, because he loved his father so much.
His father was what today would be called cool. That is, he had a way with women and it was noticeable all over the place. His mother used to sit up crying, waiting for his father to come home. His father never came home drunk. His father never even touched liquor.
But he came home noisily, shouting he wanted a good fuck, fast. Whether his mother had curlers in her hair or goo on her face or was done up in an old flannel nightgown, Father would take her as if she were the Queen of Sheba, or Raquel Welch, as they might say today.
So he never saw anything enticing in his mother. He deplored the fact that his mother was able to motivate such passion in his father, when she was just a rag, a bone, a hank of hair, as they used to say.
And he was envious of her, tremendously envious of her-not because she was able to make his father do anything she wanted, because she couldn't, but because she was the depository of his father's love. He wished desperately he had been a girl instead of a boy, so his father would kiss and hug him as he did his mother.
And he was prettier than his mother, by far. At night, when his mother waited for his father, or fell asleep from the exhaustion of waiting, he would put on lipstick and rouge and powder his face, hoping his father would see him first and recognize true beauty, and ignore his mother and come to him. He had even found one of his mother's short-short slips, and put that on, even if it hung on him like a full-length nightgown, just with the anticipation that his father might mistake him for his mother and give him the love he so desperately wanted.
He watched and waited.
There was the banging on the door, to let his mother know that his father was home and that she better damn well open the door for him and not make him hunt for his key.
Although the boy had planned it, he tripped on the nightie before he even got to the hall, and his mother beat him to the door. His father didn't even look. He just swept up his mother and tumbled her on the couch. He could swear his father didn't even have his eyes open, and if it had been he instead, it would have been he whose mouth was opened to his father's wild kisses, instead of his mother's.
But that's how he was awake to see the whole thing. The first thing you know he had her nightie open at the top. Her boobs spilled out like two, white melons. He covered them with kisses until the nipples were hard as iron. They nearly twanged when his father sucked on them, and then he was pulling up the bottom of the nightie.
The boy felt as if it were happening to him, and waited with bated breath.
Of course his mother helped by raising her rear end to allow him to slip it off. Then Father pushed his face right into Mother's crotch and started to work on her with his tongue. It was frustrating, because the boy wanted to do this to his father, not his mother.
Father seemed to be thoroughly professional. His tongue was like a sanded hunk of wood and he drove it in and out like a riveting gun. It hit the lips of her vulva from every angle imaginable. Then when Mother was thoroughly lubricated, he slipped it into the cunt and began a series of movements with his mouth that triggered Mother into orgasm after orgasm. He must have done it for ten minutes, before he stepped back and began climbing out of his clothes.
He just lifted her on the back edge of the couch and jammed his penis into the hilt ... rammed it and rammed it and fucked away so masterfully that the Reverend loved that penis to death right there and then.
His father went on like a machine. He didn't stop for anything. He climaxed once; he could tell, because his big ass shivered and rippled and farted while his father snorted like a horse. His mother just hung on, going, "Oh ... oh ... Mmmmm ... Aahhhh...." while his father's penis stayed inside the cunt so he could start all over again. His second one was even more ferocious than the first. His mother was begging. He couldn't tell if she was begging for his father to stop, or continue; but his father went on anyway. The rod was right up, his arms were strong, and his whole body stayed hard. His tool never seemed to quit. Then if he was hard before, he got positively rigid now. His fingers clutched like steel tongs, his prick was still like a lead pipe, and his ass punched into the soft meat of the cunt until it seemed his mother would have to fly apart in his arms.
"I tell you," the Reverend said with tears in his eyes, "I tell you that if that had only been me, I would gladly give up my place in Heaven, no matter how wonderful it's going to be!"
Mr. Ander leaned over and placed a soft, white hand on Reverend Pike's knee.
"Tell me," he said, "wouldn't you rather suck my prick?"
"Ooohhhh!" the Reverend cooed, "Oooohhh, my!"
"You don't have to be home?"
"No, I don't have to be home."
"No one's waiting?"
"No one's waiting."
"What about your wife if you don't show up tonight?"
"My wife has other things to keep her busy," the Reverend said stiffly.
"All right. Then shall we go?"
They arose and left the restaurant arm in arm, as gentle faced clergymen so often do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Great Dane was a bust. When Morrow rolled off Elvira's fuck-filled body, the dog was flat on the floor with his snout in his paws, sleeping.
"Come on, Carter. Where the shit did you get that hound?"
Carter was sitting with his back braced against a wall, the leash limp in his hand, while he disconsolately picked his nose. He wiped the snot on the fringe of the carpeting at his booted feet, then grinned.
Leonard had sucked clean every pore of Harriet's skin. He had mopped up the pubic hairs with his wide, flat tongue, and now he was swabbing out her ears by rolling the tongue and pushing it along each bitter ridge. His eyes were opaque. His whole big, fat, hairy body seemed to go spastic each time his tongue contacted Harriet's flesh.
"I said where the shit did you get the dog?" Morrow repeated.
"Just went outside to make sure everything was cool, man. Along comes this pickup with a kid driving. He stops up on the hill. In the back there's this mutt. I wanted to make sure the kid wasn't headed here so I went up close.
"The fuckin' dog didn't make a sound so I figured I'd bring him back here. The kid hopped in the bush for what I thought was a shit." Carter's laugh was punctuated with a high, falsetto giggle, and Morrow wondered how many reefers he had blown. He would have to remember to ask, because he didn't have one of his own left, and beer without a reefer was flat and sour.
"Well, the little motherfucker didn't wanna shit at all. He wanted to jack his prick and he seemed to have a favorite place. Right back of the hill there's a big pile of lime-like for spreading on the fields or something. It's soft as flour, but heavy enough to stay up without the wind blowin' it away. This kid just leaned right up against it and put his arms out as far as they would go, as if he had a big, fat mama in his arms. He had a prick about big as my finger, but, man, it poked into that hill like a spike. He worked his ass into it and. cooed like a dove. But that pokin' prick made the hole too big so he moved down about six inches and started again. He kept goin' that way, movin' around the hill. When he got to the other side, I cut out, got the dog, and came back here."
Elvira screeched. It was the funniest thing she ever heard. "Get me that boy!" she yelled. "Get me that little pecker-I want to be his mama!"
Morrow leaned back to her and jabbed his little finger into her still-wet cunt. "Here he is. This is the little boy. Fuck him-he's got red hair, blue eyes and freckles. He's got a tiny ass and two teeth missing in front. You're the first female pussy he's ever had so give it to him good!"
Elvira squealed. She squeezed her tied-up fists tight and shut her eyes tight and curled her toes and swung her ass as far as the ropes would let her. She had a crystal-clear picture of the redheaded farm boy. His eyes worshipped her, as he clutched the first real pussy he ever had in his life. His pecker was small but it vibrated like electricity. It hummed up her snatch and grabbed at her backbone. Along with her fists and eyes, she squeezed her cunt tight to hold it. The orgasms were small and fleeting, but they were there, man. Three of them, four of them. Five, ten of them. If there was anything she was going to do when these fuckers left was find that farm boy. Why the hell she had never latched onto him before she didn't know, but, by God, from now on he was hers, and she was going to fuck him to death ... to death ... to death....
A flat, farty fart blooped out of Caroline's ass. Only her blue eyes closed and opened in recognition of it. Regardless of what happened to her or what she did, her face remained beautifully stoic.
.Carter leaped up as if he had been sitting on a spring. "Goddam don't you shit too! I just can't stand any more shit! I just won't have it, ya hear!"
Her voice came back just above a whisper. "I have to go to the bathroom. I must go to the bathroom." Her eyes were on Harriet, and it was to Harriet that she was pleading.
"Swallow the shit," Carter rasped. "Keep it in yore throat."
"Please?" Caroline begged of Harriet.
Morrow said, "What the fuck you asking her for? Ask me."
"Please, Mr. Morrow, let Caroline go to the bathroom."
"Mr. Morrow? You think this is a goddam country club or something!"
"I have to go too, and I'm sure Elvira does."
"Knock it off, goddamn it!" Carter shrieked. He looked wildly at Morrow. "Are we here as their goddamn keepers or somethin'?"
"Cool it, boy," Morrow said.
"Boy?"
Exasperated, Morrow said, "You know what I mean-let's not start that shit. That's not what we're here for."
"What the hell are we here for? Yore actin' like we're some fuckin' army troop takin' orders. I'm here to have some fuckin' fun not to yassah boss yore white ass."
"Oh, blow it. You're as white as I am and we never rapped this shit before."
"I don't wanna be as white as you. I want you to be black as me!"
"Okay then I'm black as you. Does that set you up?"
Carter started to relax and the smile started to come back, when Caroline farted again. Carter shrugged. "All right, boss man, ya win. Ya all win. This is a fuckin' high school party and I wanna take home a good report to my mama. Who's takin' her to the John?"
"Why, you are," Morrow said. "You want fun, don't you?"
"I don't dig shit." He nodded his head toward Leonard who was wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. "Send him."
"But you want fun, right? There you're going to have a gorgeous chick sitting naked on the crapper in front of you-"
"This ain't no chick-this is a lez. Even the dog turned her down!"
"The dog turned them all down. He doesn't dig pussy. He's a fucking queer or something."
"He ain't a he-she's a she."
"So she's straight, okay. But, man, you don't want what a dog wants do you? If the dog took her, shit-I wouldn't even piss on her."
Carters black eyes lit up again. "Piss on her," he said. "Now that sounds like fun!" He let the dog go, and busied himself with Caroline's hooks. "I'll take ya to the John and piss on ya, baby." He unsnapped the leash from the Great Dane and wrapped it around Caroline's throat. He whistled. "Come, dykey, we're goin' a go pee-pee."
He led her to the bathroom and watched her daintily place her white ass on the toilet seat. He stood in front of her with the leash, and it brought his prick right up to her succulent mouth.
"Hey, this is the way! Just the right height for my cock!" He scooped it up with his free hand and pressed it against Caroline's closed lips. "Come on, baby. While ya shit ya can suck my cock." He smiled his broad smile. "That's assembly-line efficiency, honey-baby. No wasted motions-no wasted time. Every fart counts!"
She turned her head so the meaty prick poked into her cheek instead of her mouth. She studied the wallpaper, and let her eyes trace the design from the ceiling to the floor. Her stomach growled, and in spite of the tension and the agony, she felt she was going to really move her bowels.
Carter's thumb found the soft center below her ear. It dug in viciously. Caroline's mouth flipped open as if it had become unhinged. The pain was so intense, she couldn't bring her mouth back fast enough to gobble up the cock before she passed out.
"Ain't this somethin'," Carter cooed. "You suck once then grunt once. Just keep goin' that way, honey-baby, and I'll time it. I'll come when you shit-how about that? My come's gonna blast the shit right out of ya, ya know that, sugar? That's what yore come's gonna be, baby-a pile of shit! Yeah, man. Black shit from black come. Now suck, ya pussy-fucker! Suck hard!"
Nine and a half inches of pecker crawled up her throat. It swelled to its full length and tickled her tonsils. She held the flesh with both hands, closed her eyes, and pretended she was holding Harriet in her arms. The shit in her bowels growled and her ass opened and the shit fell out. She demonstrated her relief by hugging the swollen meat with her lips, and Carter identified his appreciation by discarding the leash and grasping her firmly by the back of the head.
"Yore a good head, baby. Oh, baby, ya suck a prick like I never been sucked! Man, yore one lez who does know how to eat cock-is it like pussy, baby, is it like pussy!" His hips slammed into her face and she dropped another turd. "Oh ... ooohhh ... lick it, baby!"
He felt the spurts along his spine, but the gism didn't come out yet. The smell of the shit and the knowledge that he was being blown by a lez retarded his come. But her tongue was so prick-lickin' good and her body and face were so beautiful that his pecker stayed hard and promised it would come in time-but it would give him a lot of time, more time than he had ever had before. Man, this made it good! This made it the best. Instead of slow and easy, it could be hard and fast, but it would still come out slow and easy. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah . ... fart, shit, piss, suck-yore a regular Marilyn Monroe! Ava Gardner! Leslie Uggums! Diahann Carol! Clara Bow! Tuesday Weld!
She was just a girl-a "good" girl-a beautiful, "good" girl, her parents told her. They just loved her. They loved the way she obeyed their every instruction. They never got any sassy back talk from her. She never made any impossible demands of them. Other parents had to worry about their daughters, but Caroline could usually be found in her room.
It seemed that Caroline just didn't yearn for things like other girls did, for things they didn't have and couldn't get. But what Caroline yearned for, she yearned for in the privacy of her room.
She was filled with yearnings, awful yearnings. She acted them out in wild charades in front of her mirror. At first she used to be ashamed of gazing at herself in the nude. Then she couldn't wait to get to her room and tear her clothes off and prance around while observing her image over her shoulders, sideways, head-on.
But she did worse things that she couldn't even talk about to herself. It was as if they happened to someone else, and she told herself about them later. She either spent the days fighting the temptation to commit these acts, or she spent the days committing them.
It was a tossup as to which was worse or which was better. Fighting the temptation was sometimes as thrilling as giving in to it. But that was only because it made the giving in that much more exciting.
To everybody she was a luscious plum of a girl. To herself she was the most exquisite girl alive. Her breasts, her hips, her thighs, her legs, the graceful curve of her ass, the swell of her pubes, the blush of her cunny behind those fine, white hairs filled her with a sense of power that was sometimes uncontrollable. And the most magnificent part of her female apparatus was the giant clit that used to make her scream with shock when she touched it.
It would crawl out by itself, a rich salmon-pink against her snow-white mound. It would stretch out to nearly three-inches long, and wiggle up and down like her daddy's when he took a pee. Then when she rubbed it with her hand, the powerful erection would shake her like an earthquake; and then she would be calm and silent for days, a very "good" girl.
She spent those days studying and exploring her body with the intensity of a scientist. At first she was ashamed of her big clitoris, because no other girl she knew had anything like it. But then none of these other girls had anything the way she had. She was different; but where other "different" girls were ugly, she was a "different" beautiful. And she had a clit in the hole to prove it.
Hours on end, she would stand spread-legged in front of the mirror, pulling apart the soft, white-fuzzed lips of her cunt, sliding her fingers over the flesh of the clitoris in a lazy fashion, smearing the juice from her pussy over the hardening nipples of her breast, indulging herself in a divine orgy of enjoying her ripe and magnificent beauty.
At first she did nothing more than this about it. Since her parents watched her like a hawk on the outside, but ignored her when she was inside, she was very circumspect in public in order not to be interfered with at home.
There were some dates sneaked in that weren't really official dates. Sometimes after a football game or a rally in the high school gymnasium, one of the boys would bring her home. Her father had the distance clocked, though, so there wasn't much time for necking or petting. Most of the boys were content with kissing anyway, and a quick feel or two. They talked big, but they must stay home in front of the mirror just as she did.
Once she saw one of them in the boys' toilet. His knees rested on the end of the John and his hand pumped the prick in his fist. His long hair bounced on his head, and then white spurts of gism plopped in the bowl.
Guy! Nothing like that ever came out of her. That was sensational. The thought of having her cunt and clit bathed in the white semen made her shiver in ecstasy.
The boy didn't see her standing in the open doorway. It made her giddy to think he was too excited even to close the door before he masturbated. Or maybe he just had to take a leak and didn't give a damn, and then decided to jack off after he had his prick in his hand.
But she managed to sit next to him at a football game. Their knees were covered with a blanket as protection against the raw, late-autumn wind. Caroline had brought the blanket, and the boy was flattered.
He was even more flattered when her hand found his cock and stroked it like he was never able to. Between strokes she said, "Do me! Do me!"
His hand nervously came up under her skirt. His fingers met skin all the way until they cupped the tuft of hair that guarded her fabulous pussy. He slid in his middle finger and worked it around. Caroline pumped on his cock. They both kept their eyes on the football game. Nobody around them knew the delicious sensations that were running up and down their spines. They wanted to shout. And they shouted with every pass, every buck on the line. They shouted in the huddle and in scrimmage and even during time outs.
Then that magnificent clitoris of hers burst out and plopped into the boy's hand. The hand stopped, suddenly. And then he coned it with his fingertips. She heard him whistle. He gripped it with three fingers and tugged at it. He bent it and jerked it. He twisted it like a corkscrew. He jagged up and down on it like a prick. It made her own hot fist tear his cock from the roots. Somebody made a touchdown and they screamed like crazy. The boy held onto her clit until he came. Then he dropped it as if it were leperous.
He turned an ugly face to her. "You're a fucking morphadite!"
Both his hands dipped to his crotch and zipped up his slacks. Then he was out from under the blanket and gone.
After that she sat with girls. After that she had her parents pick her up and drive her home. If she had been a "good" girl before, after that she was an exceptionally "good" girl.
She fell in love with Harriet, and hoped someday she could marry her. After the Reverend died. After her parents were dead. After everybody in the world had died, from an atomic bomb or something.
The black cock in her mouth spurted wet just as the last grain of shit dropped from her ass. The prick was like a hot, glass rod on her tongue; and now with the relief of moving her bowels, the clitoris awakened from the nerves stirred by the gism on her tongue.
She licked harder, and her clit protruded farther. She grabbed onto the cock and inched forward on the seat so that the tip of the clit rubbed against the tile of the bowl.
She gurgled on the come filling her mouth and jazzed the clit in the toilet and felt spasms of delight race through her whole, soft, fleshy being.
"Swallow it!" Carter grunted. "Oh, you cunt-sucker, swallow it!"
She swallowed as quickly as her throat could open and close. The gism tasted flat, but sweet. It was gism so it was good. It was the one thing these half-white bastards had that she didn't-the ability to ejaculate sperm that must make their nerves stretch and bust like rubber bands. It must be a feeling she would never have. But she could take this fucking feeling from them, take it and swallow it and digest it and make their pricks curl up and die.
She was lightheaded from the victory. Her clit, her three-inch prick, would never die. It came on strong and hard and stayed that way. It shivered as long as you rubbed it, and as long as you rubbed it, orgasm after orgasm broke like hot bubbles in her veins. A guy could only rub it so long. Shove it into the hot box of a pussy, and it could be rubbed forever.
"Harriet! Oh, Harriet!" she begged, as Carter pulled back and let the white-encrusted head of his black prick flop from the eager glistening mouth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Elvira was thirteen, she thought she was the daughter of a farming couple who plodded the fields from dawn to dusk, milked cows, plowed with horses, shopped for groceries on Saturday, went to church on Sunday just to lend their holy presence to sinners, and the rest of the time slept the sleep of the just and tired.
She learned differently when fancy food was set up in the barn one Saturday to feed the harvest hands who traveled from county to county threshing wheat.
There was a lot of wine to drink and there was hard likker too. She helped serve both, and her daddy didn't mind.
Whenever she moved, from the barn to the stall where the food was dished up, one of the hands would rub his crotch across the cheeks of her ass. Once in awhile, casually, in passing, another would make a grab between her legs. She felt her face flush hot and her knees grow weak.
And once, just outside the stall, this black-haired, brown-eyed boy with the faint shadow of a mustache, grabbed her in his arms to plant a kiss. Only he didn't put it on her lips. He stuck his mouth low on her neck and ran his head down to her soft breasts. He nuzzled them, and his hands came up on the sides of the round flesh and squeezed them together.
Nobody had ever touched her breasts before, and she felt her breath leave her body. He dropped her back against the wooden siding, and forced his knee between her legs. Then he raised his thigh, fast, and she was almost sitting on his knee-not with the flat of her ass, like on a chair, but on the hump of her cunt where the hair was already growing and she wore a rag once a month.
His knee ground into her pussy, while his hands came around her back, down on the swell of her hips, across her firm bottom. Then he spread the cheeks of her ass with wide fingers while he ran his knee from her belly button to her cunt.
Her breath came back in a rush and she was all fixed to scream, when there was her father standing right in back of the man, laughing and slapping his thighs like Billy-be-damned!
"Daddy, please! Make him stop!"
"Come on, Joe," her father coughed with laughter, "let's have some bourbon!"
They went off arm in arm. Joe looked back and gave her a big wink. Then he held up one, long, middle finger and waved it. Her father burst out in new laughter.
When the tables were cleared, her daddy set up a movie screen and a little projector he had rented in town.
"This is a home movie," he told everybody. "That is, I didn't make it ("I wish I did," he said in an aside, and everybody guffawed), "but it's about folks like us. Now when the movie's over, I'm hauling out the truck and taking us all into town for a real slam-bang night. So, men, zip open your pants and let it all hang out. You ladies, do the best you can." They all roared at that. Before starting the projector, her father added, "And being my wife and daughter are the only ladies here, out you go before I start!"
They all applauded with shouts of, "Let 'em stay!" But her mother herded her out. As soon as she was outside, Joe had her by the hand and up to one of the knotholes in the wall.
"Let me go!"
"Sh, sh! Gonna see a good movie!"
"I don't want to see a movie!"
"Yes, you do. You want to see this one!"
She continued pulling away, but her mother was right there. "Oh, Elvira, stop acting like a child!"
"But Daddy said-"
"Daddy said he wanted us out of the barn, but he knows we're going to watch the movie from wherever we can."
"You going to watch too?"
"Not from here. I have a place on the other side."
That's when she heard someone on the other side waiting for her mother.
She shifted her attack. "He keeps kissing me!"
"Why not? You're a kissin' girl. Your thirteen."
"I'm going to tell Daddy."
"Daddy knows. That's what he tells the men to get 'em here. Help's hard to get, Elvira, and Daddy sweetens the pot."
There were flickering lights through the knothole, and the movie was on. It was one of those old, silent pictures, and she glued her eye to the board. Higher up there was another hole, and Joe was peering through that one. Her mother had moved on down to the other side. She tried to shrug off Joe's arm when it came around her waist, but she saw the movie come on and forgot all about Joe. Later, when they would be standing thigh to thigh, her only complaint would be that he wasn't holding her tightly enough.
The Hillbillies
A barn and outbuildings are barely distinguishable in the background of the beginning frames of the film. A man in bib-overalls comes into view. He unzips the fly of his pants and takes out a partially erect penis. He walks away. The next scene switches to a run-down farmhouse.
A girl stands in the doorway. She wears a robe which is open in front, and she has nothing under it. Her pubic hair is as black as the hair on her head. She evidently sees her denim-clad lover approaching and goes inside the unpainted frame house. There's a close-up of a cardboard box on a shelf. Then there's a long shot of the girl taking a diaphagm out of the box. In a medium shot, the girl puts one foot up on the cot, spreads the lips of her vagina and inserts the diaphragm. Her lover moves into the film. His penis bulges in his pants. He gestures to the cot and picks up one end of it. As she picks up the other end, a subtitle flashes on.
Let's fuck in the sunshine, he says. We'll get some vitamin C.
They put the cot on the porch. There's a close-up of his prick coming out of his pants. There's another close-up of the girl's cunt. It looks good enough to eat. The girl lies down on her back, and the man gets down on her, putting his penis in quickly. He doesn't support himself. He fucks her by lying between her legs and on her. He doesn't move his hips very much. She kisses him on the neck and shoulders as he pumps her.
When he reaches a climax after three or four minutes, he shows little passion. She seems to enjoy it somewhat but displays almost no emotion other than her eager kissing. After he takes his penis out, he gets up and steps off the porch into the yard.
His penis is rather flaccid. He takes it in his hand and begins masturbating slowly. As he jacks his hand up and down, it begins to harden. He masturbates furiously as it increases in size. The girl comes down into the yard and lies down. They get in a clumsy sixty-nine position. She takes his penis in her mouth, and he rather awkwardly begins pushing it in and out a few inches. He presses his lips to her pussy and grips her legs.
After a couple of minutes of mutual sucking, he gets up. Again, he starts masturbating. He bends his knees and hunches into his rapid hand movements. As he telescopes his penis, he moves around a little. Enjoyment is on his face as he keeps beating his penis. As he reaches a climax, his semen spurts in an arc.
On the ground, his trim brunette partner licks at the semen trying to catch it in her mouth. She laughs and mimicks as he squirts several drops from his throbbing pole. Her breasts are small but well-shaped, and they bob around as she clowns. When he is through, she gets up from the ground and goes into the house.
She comes back with a douche bag. With one leg propped on the porch, she sticks the nozzle in her vagina and washes it out. As she douches, he washes his penis in a pan of water. The film ends with the couple continuing to look after their sexual hygiene.
* * *
Shouts and whistles came from the interior of the barn. "More! More!" Feet stomped and "Yahoooo's" filled the air.
Elvira was too embarrassed to take her eye from the board. She was very conscious of Joe's arm around her waist.
While changing reels, her daddy was saying, "Now these films are really educational. I'm tired of the bluenoses who make us look at them out here in a barn! Where else are girls like my daughter going to learn about hygiene and birth control and things like that, that I can't tell her no way! Now lookee-here at this one-this talks about folks like us, not those high and mighty dreamers in Washington who fly all over the world in jets we pay for, and who spend our money on Japanese and European cunt! If we could get rid of the nigger and Jew laws in this country, we could live and let live like good Christians! Otherwise we have to get our education like this, so fuck 'em!"
He seemed terribly angry about something, and stumbled the start of the film a couple of times before he got the reel rolling.
The Farm Girl
In front of a big barn, three men are trying to get a beautiful, red stallion to stud a mare. The horse has an organ that measures two feet long. The handlers get the stallion to prop his front feet up on the mare's back. They guide his big member into the mare.
On a fence nearby a big woman is watching the breeding. She wears a cotton dress and oxford shoes with white socks, rolled at the tops. Her legs are thick like her heavily bosomed body. She is not unattractive for a chubby farm girl. She is entertained by the horses copulating. She watches as the stallion satisfies the mare who is obviously in heat.
She observes the horses for a few minutes. Then she climbs from the fence and goes after a thermos jug. The camera trails her as she walks across a field with it. Near a stand of trees, she stops. Placing the thermos under her, she fakes urinating into it.
Picking it up, she gaily walks on. She waves at a man working in a cornfield. He smiles as she approaches. He mops sweat from his brow and takes a drink from the jug. She grins knowingly. He sits down and leans against a corn stack. She starts telling him about the stallion and the mare.
She smiles and spreads her hands a yard apart showing him how big the stud's member was. He grins lustfully at her tale. Then he leers at her and measures a couple of more inches to his forefinger. Laughing, she takes off running. He chases her. They run several yards into the field.
When he catches her, he drags her to the ground. She fakes fighting him off and does a good job of it. It is a rather rough tussle because he tears off the top of her dress. Then she helps him off with her clothes. She leaves on her shoes. Her breasts stick up even when she is on her back, the nipples topping them like stalks.
Dropping his pants and his shorts to his knees, he puts his cock in her. As he fucks her, she shades her closed eyes from the brightness of the sun. Pleasure is On her face, as he probes her. Her thick thighs move around him, circling his waist and then opening again.
When he spends, he rolls over on his back. She sits up and takes his limp penis in her hand. She flops it around several times to no avail.
They laugh and talk for a few minutes as she plays with his prick. Slowly, he gets an erection again. He stays on his back. The big girl straddles him and engulfs his organ in her very hairy pussy. She fucks him in a strong churning motion, her big legs rocking on the stiff cock.
She comes quickly and then again. She is almost too much for the man. He has to hang on as she fucks him wildly. Her ups and downs are vigorous as she milks him to completion. She likes it hot and long and stays on him almost until the last frame.
When she comes, she grinds and grips it with her convulsing pussy. As she subsides, she rests on the spear. As she gets off, one gets the impression she will not be satisfied very long until she gets it again. The film ends as she is getting off his penis.
* * *
By the time the lights came on in the barn, Joe's cock was riding high and juicy in Elvira's maiden snatch. Almost next to her, her mother was squirming to keep a small, hard prick in her hot, old cunt, but the bastard had come even before the movie was over, and he was trying to keep her mother going by filling her grabbing pussy with his fingers.
Joe worked on Elvira for a long time, trying all speeds and all positions, until his ass gave out, and he sank back.
Elvira crawled on top. Hard prick or soft, his pelvic bones ground into her cunt and she was out of her mind with delight.
Mama, now right next to her, was whimpering with the loss of her lover. Her knee kept hitting Elvira in the shoulder. Elvira reached out, felt her mother's thigh shaking under her hand. Her fingers moved up the inside of the thigh to the thick, bushy hairs of her cunt. The cunt was wide open, the lips sagging on either side. The only way the guy's little prick could be kept in was to be held in.
Elvira continued pumping ardently on the shaft in her own pussy, while her fingers clutched at the hairs of Mama's cunt, and then sank into the soft, gluttonous flesh.
While she joyfully fucked her heart out on Joe, her hand beat a corresponding rhythm in her mother's hole, and it sure was pleasurable to hear the little bleats of joy while they orgasmed together.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was Leonard who came up with the idea for the game. They had left the three girls and the dog tied up in the bedroom. They sat around downstairs sucking on beers and griping because they were all fucked out. Leonard claimed he wasn't.
"Well you eat shit," Carter said. "That makes it stand up again."
"And you eat cock so we're even."
"I never ate yours."
"You're fucking right. With all the pussy in the world, who needs a spade like you!"
"Knock it off!" Morrow's words razored between them. "You two are acting like stir-crazy cons."
"Even in the old jailhouse we didn't do this," Carter smiled.
"It's that both of you guys are always putting me down," Leonard offered. "Just because I go along with things, you think I'm a stupe or something!"
Morrow gave his tight-lipped smile. "That's a failing of people-to always make fun of a fat man. It's a universal psychosis."
"Not in the Islands," Carter said. "In the Islands it's a status symbol. They make fun of skinny people."
"It's shitass American," Leonard said. "Ever see the picture of a Dutch family? Don't have to go to the Islands to appreciate fat. The Dutch look like kewpie dolls."
Carter patted his knee. "Don't worry, man. I'd rather be a fat winner than a thin loser."
Leonard grinned back, but it wasn't a happy grin. "Yeah, but it's murder to be a fat loser."
"We're winners today," Morrow cut in. "The trouble is we were so anxious to get back here and screw up that Reverend-fucker, we didn't figure what to do after fucking up his wife."
"A good thing," Carter said. "Look at the bonuses we got. Three pussies who know we've been here."
Morrow rolled an empty beer bottle between his toes, while he snapped open another cap. "But that fucks up what I planned to do."
"I thought you said we had no plan?"
Well, way back in my mind I figured we'd just blow town. I had a hunch-that might have worked out too-that his old lady wouldn't say anything. That as long as we weren't nabbed in the act, like that cock-sucker did to us before, she'd hush it up. My only angle was to get the Reverend to find out too, make him watch or something. They'd have to keep their lips buttoned or get the hell out of this town. And he's getting so well known all over the shitting country that he'd really have to shut up and take it."
"Yeah," Carter mused. "We could even come back for seconds every once in awhile, and he could still do nothin'."
"What you said, that's not a bad idea," Leonard agreed.
"What?"
"Make the bastard watch his wife get fucked, have her suck us all off in front of him. Maybe even get her to lick the dog. Then we'd sit in the front pew next Sunday and listen to his sermon."
"Hey, that sounds good," Carter said.
"But now we got this Elvira and Caroline-"
Leonard interrupted, "Man, that Elvira digs cock and has flipped for you, Morrow. She'll take off with us. No sweat there."
Morrow laughed, "And that white-haired beauty is a lez! Doesn't that beat all-we're going to come here and put down their square living, and the whole fucking town's way ahead of us!"
Carter said, "She's trouble. Real trouble. She's a bad actor. She got nothin' to lose. She cares shit about keeping her trap shut. She's the kinda gal who's gonna get even with us. We can't let her go."
"Everybody's a psychologist," Morrow said.
"Everybody wants to live," Carter said. "That lez cunt hates us not for what we're doing here now-she kinda digs that because it opened her lover's eyes to her-but because she hates men who dig fuckin'. I mean, she's incensed because we think fuckin's such a big thing."
"Let's make that psychiatrist, not just psychologist," Morrow said.
"Make it anything ya want. I'm tellin' ya that anybody who can't fuck the way he dreamed, or get it the way he likes, or any way that blows his nuts and gives him relief, is going to blow the whistle on everybody who fucks. People always hate their own inadequacies, man. When someone else has shortcomings, he's just a chump. But yore shortcomings are always the other guy's fault. That's why I'm tellin' ya that that babe is mean, man. She'll cut the balls off any guy who's fucked around with Harriet. That means us. She'll do it one way or another, and we can't let her go."
There was just the silence of the rolling bottle and the gurgle of beer down Morrow's throat.
Morrow broke the silence. "We came here to fuck, and you want us to kill."
"Yore talkin' about killin'. I'm sayin' we gotta do somethin'. We need an idea."
Leonard had the idea. His whole body grew crafty.
"Listen," he said, "I read a book-" Carter snickered.
Behind his bushy beard, Leonard's face grew white with anger. "Putting me down again, you sonofabitch?"
Morrow didn't interfere, and Carter didn't say anything. Leonard waited. When nothing happened, he went on.
"It's a story about hunters who are bored with shooting big game. They've hunted everything, and there's no challenge left. But they've never hunted man. So they grab some guy and toss him on this island and tell him he has twenty-four hours to hide or something, and then start gunning for him."
"Sounds like a good story," Carter said. "What else have ya read lately?"
"Shut up!" Leonard snapped.
"Go on," Morrow interrupted.
"Well, I figure we let the lez go-tell the other chicks we're going to let them go too, one at a time. We take care of the lez out in the field. We already agreed we don't have to worry about the other two."
"You don't mind killing?" Morrow asked him quietly.
"Who's gonna miss a dyke? Besides it's our life or hers."
Carter said, "Then why not knock off the three of them? They don't fry you for three anymore than they do for one."
"Because, jug head, they'll search for three. No one's going to worry about looking for the lez. She took off for the bright lights. She looks like living cunt, doesn't she? They'll check the Village and Haight-Ashbury and Sausalito, and Santa Monica Boulevard, and give up."
Carter casually rose from his chair, took three steps to Leonard, and clobbered him on the chin. "Don't call me jug head, Mofo!"
Morrow was up and between them. "Are we trying to beat this rap or digging a new one? Now sit down and shut up while I think."
"I think I'll go upstairs and get me some pussy."
"Hold off on Elvira. She might travel with me."
"Lay off Mrs. Pike. She digs me, and she's gonna be our ace in the hole." Leonard rubbed his jaw, but made no move toward Carter.
Carter flashed his white smile. "That leaves me with the lez, right?"
"Right."
"She does suck a mean cock," he agreed. "She's blown me twice and nearly bit me off once. I think I owe her a bite back."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
If it hadn't been for Leonard, she'd be hanging from the wall and her arms would have been pulled from their sockets by now. But Leonard had prevailed upon Morrow to have her standing on the floor when tied; and although her arms felt as if they were pulled from their sockets and her legs begged to rest, she had survived the afternoon in reasonable shape.
Who would ever believe what had happened to her? Whom would she tell? God, when this ordeal was over, if it ever was over, she could mention it to no one. It wouldn't show, would it? Who could tell when someone has lost her virginity? Take Elvira-whoever would have thought that this girl was a tramp? Not by appearances, certainly. Perhaps those who knew her better, knew. But that was a different thing.
Those who knew her, Mrs. Harriet Pike, would never know of her lascivious conduct. She would never report it to the authorities to have it public knowledge that she had been raped. Raped? Was oral copulation rape? What a degrading thing to have people know about you!
But the Reverend would report it, wouldn't he? He had done that before. In his self-righteousness, he would do it again. There were certain things about his character that were disagreeable. But then, no one's perfect, and she had lived with him reasonably well. But she couldn't live with him, if she knew that he knew the happenings that took place here today.
These men must leave before he came home. She must impress them with the importance of leaving him in ignorance. She would do anything they asked, anything. Hadn't she already done everything? What more could they ask?
She must tell them. She couldn't wait to tell them. Where were they? Why weren't they here, so she could tell them?
That was funny. She began to laugh. She was so grateful when she was left alone, and now here she was praying for them to come back! Anxious to do anything they asked! More than anxious-greedy to do what they asked! Laughter bordered on the verge of hysteria. Her breasts jumped wildly. Her soft flesh jiggled in a movement that tantalized Caroline across the way.
"Oh, don't laugh at me, Mrs. Pike! Please don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not, Caroline, I'm not! It's just that-" And again she took off in a peal of laughter.
Caroline couldn't bear to hear the laughter that was turning to tears. Oh, God, if those men would only come back and free her to go to Harriet! They could do anything they wanted to her, anything-as long as they let her soothe Harriet! As long as they let her take care of Harriet! As long as they didn't touch Harriet!
The door swung open to admit Carter. "Okay, girlies, it's show time!" He snapped his fingers. "Let's get cracking'."
"Oh, God, Carter, please!" Harriet broke into sobs. "Please, please! Do anything, anything! Just leave before my husband gets here! Please leave before my husband gets here!"
Her eyes rolled back in her head, exposing the whites of her panic to Carter. He stepped up and struck her across the face. He hit her twice more. Her fleshy body still bounced with sobs, but she managed to still them. She watched the tears trickle down her breasts. One being on the tip of a nipple she wanted to ask Carter to kiss it off, but she didn't want to in front of the two girls. Besides she knew, somehow, it would hurt Caroline, perhaps even anger her.
"Broke ya finally! How about that!" Carter marveled.
"Filth! Get your hands off her! Leave her alone!"
He turned to Caroline. "I will, honey, for now. I'm here to please you at the moment."
"Do whatever you want to me-anything at all. Just don't lay a hand on her."
"Man, everybody just loves everybody, don't they?" Carter smiled. "Well, honey, I know that big talk was for the lady's benefit, but I'll take it to heart. Guess what I'm goin' to do to ya, just guess!"
"Lap me up, honey-chile," Elvira called. "Lap me up first, you cock-sucker."
Harriet cringed. Caroline didn't move a muscle. "Anything," she said coldly.
"Say dirty words for him, Caroline. That's what he likes to hear. Say them over and over again. He wants to hear them. Shit, so do I!"
With a cool porcelain face, Caroline said, "Fuck, cock, cunt, prick, pussy, hot shit...."
Carter waved her off. "No way, baby, no way. Tell me something using those words. Like, you tell me what I'm gonna do to you."
Shit, she didn't have any idea what he was going to do to her. She had no idea that he was going to suck out her clit till the pink prick stretched out between her legs so that Harriet could get a good look at what this lez was offering her. Then would come the surprise, man. Then would come the fuckin' surprise.
Carter's eyes were agate-hard as he looked down at Elvira. His fists were clenched at his sides. "I just don't get my share," he said, speaking almost to himself. "A dyke they give me-you I can't touch." He gazed down at the bulbous cunt that stretched at the end of the bed. He fingered it absently and licked his lips wet. "Okay, but that fuckin' dog can."
Elvira answered him with her stupid laugh. "He sniffs good, but he can't suck worth a damn!"
"Not after I take the tape off his snout," Carter leered. "I wanted my own fun. I don't want any honkies whistlin' Dixie."
Elvira laughed again. "Bring him around, man!"
He ripped off the tape, that no one had cared about and looked for, that efficiently muzzled the Great Dane. The huge red tongue rolled out and slobbered. He tugged the leash toward Elvira, and the dog pranced over.
"Just thought ya'd like to know," Carter said huskily, "when the mutt's through blowin' ya, there's a washing machine downstairs."
Elvira lifted her eyebrows, and Carter's white smile flashed back. "Ya ever see the agitator on one of those automatic washing machines? Goes up and down, up and down, up and down-forever and ever and ever. I'm gonna sit ya on top, fix it around yore little cunt, slip it in nice and tight and then turn on the machine. Man, what a ride! Yore gonna ride and ride and ride! It never stops! Gonna leave ya like that till yore comin' out yore ears! A real fuckin' machine, man, that gonna hump every drop of gism out of yore cunt! How's that baby!"
"Crazy, man!" Elvira whooped.
The revulsion that stirred in Harriet was too close to the thrill of anticipation. She not only despised this brute, she loathed herself for the erotic stimulation he gave to her and the sounds of joy he got from Elvira.
Caroline didn't demonstrate. But then she didn't know that Carter was using Elvira and the dog for a trial suck-run on her. She had no way of knowing that Carter anticipated seeing her three-inch clitoris snapped off, ground off, chewed off by the incisors of the sex-mad dog.
The dog's eyes burned with canine lust as he regarded the creamy flesh he could now devour. He put his forepaw up on the end of the bed, forced his shoulders between her knees, and wedged himself between Elvira's wide-open thighs. His throat growled and his wide, flat clapper snapped at the waiting cunt.
His gushing saliva drooled over her quivering flesh. Elvira moaned aloud, squealed and keened as the long, hot tongue stroked upward and entered the dark bush of her crotch. It parted her slit and probed hungrily into her vulva. Then the jaws snapped like firecrackers on her fleshy petals, and Elvira began to sob.
The tongue fought to encircle the swollen bud of her clitoris and suck it from its hot bed of flesh. The claws tore wildly in the bedsheets. Hind legs dug at Elvira's thighs as the Great Dane tried to crawl into her. Elvira screamed. Harriet screamed. Caroline couldn't see what was happening, but her own clitoris began to inch forward from the protective layer of her cunt lips.
Elvira wanted to bounce her heels on the back of the dog. She wanted to wrap her fat legs around the tawny fur and squeeze him into her groin. The dog slobbered as its tongue curved upward; into the tight rosette of her anus. The dog's body shuddered, convulsed, and in its frustration of not being able to draw out the clitoris, it leaped from the bed and insanely ran around the room.
"Here, here!" Carter called and pointed eagerly to Caroline's protruding clitoris.
Not to Caroline, no! Waves of emotion washed across Harriet. Her before Caroline, her! She didn't want that albino body touched-not by the dog, not by the three monsters, not by anybody!
Seeing Caroline's legs spread and trembling violently, seeing that pink cock looking out from the white forest of the alabaster crotch, her head whirled; her breath choked; a curtain of red descended; then black. She lost consciousness.
The dog whipped to Carter, circled Caroline.
Carter's forefinger stabbed at the protruding clit. "Here, girl!" He fingered the clit for the dog, wagged it up and down. The Great Dane leaped forward.
"God!" The word screamed from Caroline's throat.
"Got to ya, huh, baby? Got to ya!" Carter chortled, and watched the dog lap at the erection from all fours. Then it placed its two, front paws on Caroline's shaking hips, and positioned itself so that the white-furred pelvis and the female pecker were poised at its muzzle. The dog shook and whimpered. Then the jaws opened, the twelve-inch tongue lashed out and seized the pink erection. The tongue wrapped around the clitoris and tugged.
Regardless of what they had done to her until now, Caroline for the first time felt revulsion. Just the thought of the dog pulling at her privates repulsed her. The excruciating pain of the tearing at her vitals made her scream again. The dog was back on all fours. It braced its hind legs and inched back with its forepaws. The clit began to stretch like rubber. She screamed again. The sight and odor and feel of the dog were unbearable. It opened its mouth to crunch down on the clitoris, but it snapped back to immediately be gobbled back by the terrified cunt lips behind it.
The dog leaped forward, but Leonard was on it. He collapsed its back and pounded his hammy fist on the squealing head.
"You shithead, Carter" Morrow was shouting. "Just when we figure a way out, you're getting us back in!"
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Now what we do," Morrow said, "is let the two broads go at it. The dyke will have nothing to squeal about-she's found her lover."
Harriet sat stiffly on the living room couch. It was as if they were all having Sunday tea. Elvira was filing her nails. Filing her nails at a time like this! She could understand the behavior of these animals from another place, but Elvira was born and raised here. Elvira was everybody. And she coolly filed her nails sitting on a stool, with one naked leg crossed over the other while her toe beat time to some music she heard in her own brain.
Caroline sat on the floor, hugging her bare knees. She seemed to have recovered from the fright of the dog, and her eyes stared worshipfully up at Harriet. Harriet wanted to cry. Sweet girl! Sweet, good girl!
"Man," Leonard interjected, "she can't wait for us to leave-she'll have that pussy for herself. They'll both keep their traps shut."
They were talking about Caroline and her. Disgusting! Demanding that they put on a show for these loathsome freaks! Oh, no, never, never! Soon as they let her, just as soon as they let her, she would take Caroline in her arms and protect her. Hold her closely, tenderly. Kiss the smooth brow. Hold her mouth to the warm lips. Feel that voluptuous, white body stir against her own. She would love her, protect her, never allow the degrading performance they expected, even if they killed her for it.
She said, "You promise to leave then? You promise to take your hideous presence from my home?"
"No promises," Morrow said. "But that's what we're going to do, because that's what we want to do."
Leonard said, "As long as we know there's nothing for you to talk about, there's nothing for us to worry about."
"All voluntary," Morrow said.
"Now you ain't sucked Carter yet so you cop his joint, while the dyke eats your pussy. Me, I'm going to be shoving my cock up her good, sweet ass while I suck Elvira, baby, up to heaven. And she's going to be hooked onto Carter, because she hasn't blown that big, black cock yet. Then when we get all fucked and sucked dry, we'll split. All of us, except the dyke and you. It'll be all yours from then on, forever."
He and Elvira were the first ones to move into the circle. The others followed. Nobody had to be ordered. It was night. The room was dark. Anybody could be anybody. It didn't really matter. All that mattered is that the room was warm with the bottled-up heat of the day; and they were able to leave the door open to get air without fear that anyone would steal away.
* * *
The sheriff walked up the path flanked by two deputies. "Be damned if I know how to tell her," he whispered. "It's only nine o'clock and the poor lady's already fast asleep, I bet."
One deputy shook his head disconsolately. "How you going to tell her that her fucking husband's a homo and got nabbed in a hotel room with a queen from Chicago?"
"Probably she not only doesn't know what a homo is, but doesn't even know about fucking!" the sheriff muttered.
They saw the open door. They stopped; then proceeded wonderingly to the door, to the whining, gasping, sucking, fucking sounds that gurgled in the night air. They unbuckled the flashlights from their belts and threw in three bright beams simultaneously.
"What the fuck goes on here!" the sheriff bellowed. It was the Reverend's ancient cry, in the mouths of the police rather than the pulpit. But they meant the same thing. There were no two-by-fours handy, but the law had billyclub.
