At twenty-one, Nancy was still unaware of the depths to which people would plunge in search of new thrills and perverted pleasures. She certainly didn't think she would ever become involved in the kind of life her sister Livy had forged for herself-a life of 'round the clock sex that had transformed her into a cruelly soiled person. Nancy would live with her sister only as long as it took to find a respectable job. But when no job materialized, Nancy was forced to forget respect. Maybe forever.
CHAPTER ONE
Showering had never felt so good. She had thought she would never get clean again. The lather foamed under her flying hands, hung from the tips of her breasts and streaked down her back and belly to flow between her thighs where the gathering run-off oozed to the slippery tile floor. She turned the water up as hot as she could bear, and slicked the soap away, letting the enervating stream cascade onto her head and shoulders. When she stepped out of the shower, she was so limp she could hardly stand.
She was glad she had cut her hair. She barely had the strength to towel her head, and had it still been long, she would have needed ten more of the rough little towels to get it dry. All that sweat and grime and sleep-she was free of it for a while. Her skin glowed and tingled.
She moved to one side of the cramped stall, out of the line of light shining through the door, certain that the old attendant would be trying to peep at her from his station on the other side. She had almost forfeited the opportunity to get clean when she had seen him, a bent-backed, shrivelled old man, leering at her after taking her dollar and giving her soap and a towel.
She wiggled into clean panties, standing on the wet towel, drawing the flimsy underwear up over the mound that bulged below her flat belly. She slipped into her last clean bra and noticed she had lost weight in spite of her inactivity these last several days. Her breasts had shrunk slightly, leaving the white cups of the brassiere a bit empty instead of causing them to swell outward as they usually did.
Fortunately she had a last clean blouse too, although it was wrinkled from being jammed into her bag. But she had to wear the same blue skirt, still smelling of sweat and travel and creased across her abdomen from long hours of sitting.
She combed her hair, still having to adjust to the fact that it no longer trailed down over her shoulders but ended, close-cropped, just over her ears and long graceful neck. She rolled up her dirty clothing, jammed it into her small suitcase and stepped into her worn flats. She left the steamy stall, rejecting the old man's knowing wink with a toss of her bobbed, black-haired head.
The clock above the schedule board showed less than half of the one-hour rest stop left. Craving fresh air and unwilling to join the line of travelers who were still waiting to be served in the cafeteria line, she bought a sandwich and orange drink from the row of tan machines. She had no illusions about the neighborhoods that bus stations were located in, but she couldn't stand the terminal smell and the familiar sight of drifting vagrants and muttering alcoholics and, always, the exhausted-looking black mothers with two or three children sleeping fitfully on their laps.
Robert watched her leave. He put the magazine back on the rack upside-down, defying the jaundiced glare of the concessionaire behind the counter, and followed her. He had spoken to her before, tried to draw her out, feeling sure they could strike up a friendship as the only two young people on the long transcontinental journey. But she had only smiled shyly at him, keeping to herself, brooding soft-eyed as he had studied her over numberless fried meals in countless stations previous to this one. By now it had become an obsession with him, and when he saw her abandon the security of the terminal, the first time she had stepped outside the sphere of the bus company's empire, he felt this was his chance.
The fact that he had lived with her, in a sense, sharing the same noisy chamber for thousands of miles, unsettled him. If she rebuffed him he would have to survive the rest of the trip in embarrassment. But it was worth the try.
The first night of the trip he had volunteered to share her seat and start a conversation, and when she declined nervously, he had settled back and written a long poem praising her real and imagined attractions. The second night, after his attempt to share supper at her table had produced only one wan word of response, he had dreamed fitfully until dawn of how it should be-how he would talk her into breaking the trip, snow her into leaving the bus and taking a hotel room with him, how he would unclothe her and spend his youthful lust in worship of her slim nakedness before they resumed the trip, his newfound prize hugging close to him.
He walked out the aluminum-framed glass door. Five big busses were roaring in the terminal shed, their belly flaps opened for the baggage and boxes that the black attendants were sorting from the long wheeled dollies. He walked between them, nose wrinkling at the stench of sooty exhaust, tempted to steal one of the idling chrome monsters and bear his newfound love-object to wherever it was she was headed.
She was sitting on a chunk of broken concrete in the rubble-strewn vacant lot next to the terminal, eating her sandwich in the safety of its shadow, her head tilted up, watching the few stars that were visible above the city's smoggy haze.
"Hi!" She looked so lovely, he thought, her long bare legs shining whitely in the gloom.
"Oh, you scared me!" Her hand went to her breast in a gesture of relief. He could almost feel the warmth of her breasts in his own palms.
"I thought you'd gotten off here-didn't see you eating."
"I was taking a shower. I thought I'd never get rid of that stale feeling."
He was ashamed of his own grubby condition-the clothes he had been sleeping in for several days, his smelly feet, unwashed hair, dirty fingernails. He felt like a clod for approaching her. She seemed so pure, so white in her clean snowy blouse, sitting there like a princess on a picnic while he, soured by endless cigarettes and cups of coffee, felt encapsulated by fatigue and filth and the thoughtless, constant, feeling of lust his mind had been occupying itself with.
"Want the rest of this sandwich? I can't finish it."
"Oh, sure, yeah," he stumbled, awkwardly sitting down next to her and taking the stale sandwich, hoping she couldn't smell his own staleness. He munched it silently, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, hopelessly enraptured with her loveliness.
"The windows on the bus are tinted so dark you can never see the stars," she observed.
"They ought to have glass tops, so you could lie back and watch the sky all the time," he agreed.
She turned and smiled at him, looking for a fleeting instant into his eager eyes. He felt his manhood boil within him. She seemed so innocent, but the fact that she had finally let him look into her eyes seemed as definite a conquest as if she had just suggested they undress and make love then and there.
"Here," she said, when he was about to discard the sandwich wrapper. She took it from him and stuffed it into the pocket of her sweater. What a fantastic girl, Robert thought, sparing even a filthy city lot one more scrap of trash.
"Want to smoke a joint?" he asked, lighting one as he spoke, his heart pounding with the nearness, the freshness of her.
"What?"
"A joint, you know, marijuana."
"Oh!" She recoiled in amazement, looking swiftly about as if they had just been surrounded by policemen.
"Here!" he choked, holding the sweet smoke in his lungs and thrusting the joint at her.
"No, no thanks."
"Here!" he breathed, offering it more gently and looking her in the eye with all the trust he could muster in his heated, horny condition.
She took it clumsily, her nose wrinkling at the smoke. He realized she had probably never smoked so much as a cigarette.
"Just puff on it, and then inhale," he instructed her.
She blew the first toke, coughed and again looking wildly about. "I don't think I better."
"Come on, try it again!"
She took another hit and got some of it down, breathing it out quickly.
"Like this," he showed her, taking the joint back, inhaling a deep drag and conspicuously inflating his chest, as much for a show of masculinity as to hold the smoke deep in his lungs.
She tried again, smiling self-consciously as she held the smoke in.
They sat silently smoking, passing the shrinking joint back and forth, their eyes following the passage of the glowing red coal.
"The bus!" she coughed.
"Five more minutes," he said, checking his watch. "All the time in the world." But no time at all, he thought, not enough to stop the journey, to get alone with her, to make the advances his loins ached for, and take her.
"Wowwww!" she sighed. She felt as if she were in a completely different place, dancing with shadows, and the stars which had seemed so far away appeared to be twinkling right overhead. She felt giddy, then fearful of the strange boy next to her, then suddenly warm and happy, as if her mind had been washed clean.
"Getting really stoned," he said, puffing on the tiny roach.
"It's so small," she said, concentrating on taking the remainder from his fingertips.
"But so good," he replied, hoping she would understand that he wasn't referring only to the grass.
"My head is coming off-oooops!" she exclaimed as she stood up and looked down at her feet which were miles below her.
He extinguished the roach, put it in his pocket, and stood up with her. He reached out, full of yearning, to take her hand as they walked around the wall of the loading shed, but she withdrew hers.
"No," she said softly.
They joined the straggling line of sleepy passengers being shunted into the bus. She knew all their faces but they all looked different. Looking at each one, she thought she could tell everything about where each had been, had come from, and was destined to go.
They both giggled as they stepped up into the bus, like it was the first time they had ever been aboard, climbing the narrow rubber stairs, squeezing past the rows of seats that people were settling into, arranging their pillows, pulling out their new reading matter, grandmothers jamming the air-conditioning vents with wadded paper, tired half-breeds rolling cigarettes, children asleep across the seats, older people dropping off with their mouths hanging open.
"Thank you," she said, turning into her seat, unwittingly discouraging him from joining her.
She sat down, listening to the hissing of the air brakes and the muffled growling of the engine. There was a crunch of gears, the lights flicked on and off, and the bus gave a backward lurch, sliding away from the fluorescent dock of the stainless steel terminal.
One more day, she thought, as she watched the scattered nighttime traffic flowing alongside like a parting school of fish through which the big vehicle swam. One more day and she'd be there, starting all over again, really starting, as if for the first time. No one to nurse, no one to spend money on except herself-she wondered if she'd be able to find a job?-no one to account to. She'd be free, really free. She was very happy to be almost there, out west, and the nearness of it made her relax and watch the eastbound trucks flash by with gleaming eyes.
"Hey, want some orange?"
It was him, bending over her seat, a big orange in his hand. She cleared off the other seat and he sat down beside her in the darkness. She wondered why she hadn't let him sit with her before, as her nostrils caught the pungent, welcome smell of fresh peeled citrus. He had obviously wanted to, but she had felt too shy. For some reason she wasn't now. Maybe it was the marijuana, or maybe just him, but it was nice for a change to be in someone's company.
"I guess you're going all the way through?"
"Uh-huh, and you?"
"Yeah, I live in San Francisco."
"Really? That's where I'm going."
"Far out! How come?"
"How come what?" It was hard to think straight. Her brain seemed to be going round and round, like a record.
"How come you're coming out?"
"Oh. Well ... II don't know, I'd rather not talk about it."
"Whatever," he nodded, eyeing the swell of her bosom as it lifted and fell in the semi-darkness.
"This is so good," she said, licking the juice of the orange from her fingers.
"Good." He wanted her. He could feel her warmth, her femininity, her softness. The sight of her bare knees tantalized him, as well as the soft, white curve of her neck.
The bus was snoring in high gear, rocking down the freeway. Everyone was asleep. The seats were empty around them. They sat almost in private, bouncing to the rhythm of the tires on the road's concrete seams.
"How long does it last?" she heard herself ask over the music playing in her head.
"As long as you want it to," he replied, conspicuously stretching in his seat.
She felt like she was on a date. Ten, maybe twelve times in the last three years, she had let herself go out with a boy, leaving her invalid aunt for the evening, promising to be home early, fighting all through the evening with her date who always tried to keep her out late.
"Never mind that old bitch," they'd told her. "She has no right to make you slave like that. Put her in a rest home and start living. Jesus, you hardly ever go out. What's wrong with you? What's wrong with her? How come I can't see you again? Who're you saving it for? You stay locked up in that house and you'll end up like she is!"
It had all been true, but it wasn't her fault. Now it was over. She could go out every night of the week, if she wanted to.
Three or four times, on those rare dates, she had let the boy put his arm around her shoulders, had let him go farther and tease her with those things she knew she shouldn't do, but couldn't resist, feeling sometimes that if she didn't indulge in temptation, something would die inside her forever.
He was putting his arm around her now, and even though he was more of a stranger than the boys in town had been, she didn't stop him. She felt warm and flattered that he had courted her all during the trip-hadn't he pushed himself on our continually? He was serious-she knew he was.
They sat in the darkness, with the invisible scenery skimming by, and he produced the poem he'd written the first night. She read it twice, and then a third time, trying to make sense out of it, moved by it, not sure whether it applied to her, but feeling a strange thrill that he would share it with her, that her new seatmate on this long tiring trip was a pot-smoking young poet, shaggy hair and all. They'd be scandalized back in Morganville. But she was never going back to Morganville, and she had to start trusting her own instincts now.
Robert sat with his arm around her, slowly encouraging her head to lean on his shoulder. He felt hot and impatient but forced himself to hold back the driving urge to kiss and caress her. He had her now, he felt. Their bodies were close together. She had admitted him to intimate proximity. Only a matter of time, he told himself.
By and by she started talking. Not because he had asked her again, but because it seemed to well up out of her, all the history of her broken family, the years of poverty, being taken in by her aunt, her aunt's sickness and eventual helplessness, the role of nurse she had been forced to play, the long years of wasted youth after dropping out of college to tend to her aunt and the house, never being able to make real friends, nor able to accept boy friends at the house, relinquishing all normal social life until she had come to think of herself as plain and unattractive and unappealing to the opposite sex.
"Not true, it's not true," Robert murmured, hugging her close to him.
She turned sideways and curled up on her seat, drawing her legs up so her knees rested on his thigh, her head on his arm, looking at his face as she spilled it all out, while he stared past her out the window.
She told him about the one boy, like him-and it was the truth-who had courted her, who had given her a taste of what it was like to be in love, who had disappeared, whose vanishing she felt sure her aunt had been responsible for. And after that, how she had withdrawn, kept to her room except when her aunt needed food, or medicine, or washing, waiting week after week, month after month, until the old lady had kicked off, then, stricken with remorse, how she cut her hair for the funeral, buried her aunt, learned that her aunt had left her nothing for all her service and sacrifice, decided to clear out, get away, get a job, go back to school, do all the things she had never been able to do while the excitement of youth and her generation had by-passed her.
And now? Now she was headed west. To the sister who had always derided her for staying with her aunt instead of living her own life. The sister who had urged her to come on out, to stay with her until she figured out what she was going to do, how she was going to make her independence and survive.
"You're not alone," Robert said, bending his head and brushing her cheek with a tentative kiss.
She shivered and snuggled closer to him.
"Too beautiful to be alone," he told her fervently, his heart beating excitedly as she nestled her body against his.
She wanted to hear it, was grateful that he said it. She wanted to be wanted, to have a reinforcement against the world which seemed so huge and chaotic.
He shifted in his seat, throwing a last glance down the aisle to make sure everyone had settled in for the night, glad that the lavatory was on the lower deck and thus they wouldn't be interrupted until the early morning meal stop.
He pulled her down so she lay across his lap on her back, in his arms, her knees drawn up and together, her hand holding her skirt to prevent it from exposing any more of her thighs.
Robert lifted her head and bent down to kiss her. She closed her eyes, not wanting to yield to the thrill of his advances, but melting when his lips covered hers.. She was surprised when the kiss continued. Never having really been kissed, she was startled when his tongue glided over her lips, wetting them, urging them gently apart, then slipping between them, stroking the insides of her soft lips and glancing off her tongue with an intimate contact that made her nostrils flare.
She had never realized her lips were so sensitive, that they could feel the touch of his so acutely, that the meshing of their mouths could send such extraordinary chills down her back, making her almost pant, turning her to jelly as he worked her mouth open and pushed his tongue inside, flicking in and out of her trembling lips.
"No!" she whispered, when his hand lighted gently on her breast.
"Yes!" he insisted, taking her defensively raised hand and removing it from the area he sought.
"Nooo," she sighed, slowly shaking her head in the crook of his arm, but not resisting as his fingers closed on a breast and massaged her through her blouse, his palm sliding over the tip of the sensitive mound, his fingers deliberately kneading her soft, unexperienced flesh.
She ground her knees together until the flesh felt raw, wanting to jump up and get away but paralyzed by the sensations his roving, urgent hand was unleashing in her. Three or four times she had let a boy pet her at the movies, more out of curiosity than for sexual reasons. Now she knew it was the hot flush of sex that his caresses were generating in her breasts and she knew it was crazy to be doing something like this with a stranger, on a bus, of all places. But she couldn't stop him. It felt too good, like she had always dreamed it might.
Robert moved carefully, not wanting to alarm her but dying to get at her, to get under the clothes, at least as far as her boobs were concerned, for her skirt had fallen back to mid-thigh now and he could imagine the inner flanks of her beautiful legs, joining at the triangle where her panties would be covering the mossy, ultimate target of his patient approach.
He felt his penis swell and stiffen as he gazed at her firm thighs and ran his hand sensuously from her neck to her waist, gently molding her breasts as he went. He could feel the hardness of her nipples through her blouse and bra and it made his prick jerk with exultation. He wondered if she had felt it.
"Noooo, please," she whispered, opening her eyes and looking up at him as he tried to unbutton her blouse.
"I want to," he told her, holding her tightly as if she might spring away.
His feverish fingers returned to her waist and crept between her skirt and blouse, feeling the warm nakedness of her belly.
"We shouldn't," she pleaded, reacting to his touch by sucking in her tummy.
"I know," he nodded, undecided as to what his next move should be.
He quickly decided to return to her aroused breasts and leaned down to engage her in another long, moist kiss as his fingertips edged up past the concave arch between her ribs.
"Mmmmm! Nnnnn!" she protested when she felt his fingers cup over the lace-covered mounds of her breasts. It thrilled her that he was petting her like that, under her blouse, his fingers separated from her feminine flesh only by the flimsy barrier of the bra. But she was startled too, ashamed of her body's positive response to his caresses, the quickening beat of her heart, the warm flooding feeling that rose in her chest as he explored her young, ripe tits.
Robert lifted her up to a semi-sitting position, raining nipping kisses around her face, dazing her.
"Nooo! Don't do that!" But he had done it-he had reached back under her blouse and, with a deft motion, unfastened her bra.
"Please," he whispered, settling her back down as his hand moved eagerly around to her front again. "Please," he begged, unable to put his longing into words but wanting her to understand that she could trust him.
His hand glided up under the slackened bra and covered her warm, soft boob, stroking its curves with his fingertips and gently rolling her erect nipple with his perspiring palm.
"No-n-no-n-no." She was making little sounds of resistance, her fists clenched at her sides as if she were being tortured.
"Doesn't it feel good?" he whispered hoarsely, pushing the now useless bra up out of the way.
"Doesn't it?" he asked fervently.
"Oh yes, but ... but ... oh, ohhhh, oh, pleeeease!"
Robert began rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger with a rhythmic tugging motion, stopping only to give one of the succulent orbs a passionate squeeze.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed, when, with his other hand, he began unbuttoning the front of her blouse.
"It's all right," he assured her, "we're all alone."
"I know," she panted, "but ... oh!"
She stared down at the salacious sight of his hand disrobing her.
"Hasn't anyone ever seen your breasts?" he whispered hotly in her ear. She shook her head.
"Let me, let me, please. I won't hurt you," he insisted, pulling her hands away from her unbuttoned blouse. He slowly drew her blouse open and exposed her lovely tits.
"They're so beautiful!" he whispered, taking a tit in each hand and slowly squeezing until her expression of surprise turned to pained alarm.
He kissed her cheek until she turned her head and they locked mouths again, Robert swallowing her virgin moans of newfound delight as his fingers teased her pulsing nipples in every way he knew how.
Before, she'd always felt so distant from the act of petting. She was used to having a movie to concentrate on while a boy felt her up, relating to the excitement in her fondled breasts only as a dull suspicion of desire that, left unattended, eventually languished.
Now, however, her entire being was concentrating on what he was doing to her. And she found that the more her nipples tingled and filled with blood under his erotic manipulations, the more she wanted to kiss him, to feel his body against hers, to bury her fingers in his shaggy hair and pull his head and mouth down to hers.
He realized what she wanted, surprised at her sudden eagerness, thinking that it should have taken much longer to get her hot enough to want him to kiss and suck her there.
He maneuvered their bodies on the seat until he could trace a line with his lips down from the slender column of her neck, over the bones of her collar to the milky smoothness of her dark-tipped boobs. He started at the base of one, where it bulged softly and nuzzled his way up over the mound, tonguing her flesh, until his lips found the rigid node of her nipple. With moist lips he caressed it, until her hands flew to his head, pressing his face down into the passion-filled pillow of her flesh. Then he ran his tongue around the stiff bud, salivating madly, swabbing the whole cone of her boob and sucking it in and out between his hungry lips.
"Eeeeuuuu!" she squealed in unexpected pleasure. Enraptured, she held his head as it traveled from nipple to nipple, leaving one damp and cold as it melted the other in the liquid heat of his oral homage.
He lifted his head just at the moment when she thought her boobs would explode, relieving the unbearable pressure now throbbing in them.
"Is it good?" he panted, burying his mouth in her neck and sending electric jolts of shivering desire up and down her body from his hotly teasing mouth.
"Yes," she had to admit weakly. She knew she shouldn't say it. But it was. "Yes, oh, yessss!" she sighed.
"I love your breasts!" he whispered in her ear, making her head buzz as though a wasp were dancing on her eardrum.
"I love your body-you're so beautiful!" Robert declared in a hushed tone, kneading her damp breasts with his hands again, letting her watch as he forced the dusky, bloated tips of her nipples up through his fingers.
"Ohhhh," was all she could say. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She also wanted to tell him to stop, not to go any further. But she couldn't find the words. Her head was all feelings-new, indescribable feelings of pleasure, possession and passion. That was what unnerved her so-she wanted him! It was so crazy but it was true. Even if he was the first boy who had ever seriously made out with her, even if she had met him on a bus, even if they were acting like fools in the humming darkness now, she identified the ache in her body as an explicit craving, the amplification of the dark force she had never felt before except for those few times during self-exploration that had turned into hurried and guilty masturbation.
"Wait, please, wait," she begged him, when his hands moved down her body, massaging her belly, tickling the pit of her navel and threatening to creep under the waistline of her skirt. He paused, running his fingers back and forth around her small waist, giving her a few moments to adjust to the sight of her semi-nudity and the spectacle of his advances-her breasts pouting lewdly in the road light, his fingers impatiently tugging at the waist of her skirt.
She was going crazy with a mixture of curiosity and carnal need. She wanted him to probe down there. After his arousal of her breasts she was breathless with the expectation of the demon he might unleash down there, under the modesty of her skirt. But she couldn't let him, she couldn't. She had to draw the line. If he wouldn't or couldn't control himself, she would have to.
"No!" she stated fiercely, catching his wrist as one hand began to slide under her skirt.
"Don't!" he entreated her. "It'll be good, you'll see, it'll be so good. Come on, I won't hurt you. If you don't like it, I'll stop, I promise. Come on, let me." He brought her wrists together and imprisoned them across her chest in the grip of one strong hand.
"No, oh, don't, please don't, please," she mewed, watching aghast as with his other hand he worked her skirt up over her thighs, revealing the snowy triangle of her panties, the prominent cotton-clad hump of her pubis, bunching the dark skirt up around her waist.
He clamped his hand over the rise between her legs, pressing his fingertips between the hot vise of her tightly clenched thighs. No one had ever touched her there before. She writhed on his lap, turning her head to his stomach, burying her face against him, unable to bear the sight, much less the feel, of his hand massaging her virginal mount of Venus.
Then she felt something else-the hard, long lump beneath her head-the thing she had assumed must be something hard in his pocket and now realized with shock was his penis, rigid and ready, pressing against her cheek.
She panicked for a moment, nearly spilling them both out of the seat, consumed with fear at the thought that even as his bold hand molded itself over her curving secret place, the specter of his lust was rearing for her, ready to take her, rising to threaten her.
"Don't! Don't!" he begged her, hunching over her squirming half-naked body and fighting for the chance to kiss her, to stop her panting cries of desperation with his hungry mouth.
"Okay, okay, it's all right, please, I'm not going to rape you, come on, take it easy, I'm not going to hurt you, please, you're so beautiful, that's all, I just want to make love to you, please, come on, kiss me, kiss me!"
By slow degrees he stilled her wild wrestlings and brought his mouth to hers, letting her feed on his lips and tongue as he played them over her fearful but voluptuous mouth.
"Okay, it's all right, it's all right," he assured her, slowly stroking the triangle of intimate panty-clad flesh that disappeared between her legs.
"You'll see, I promise, it'll be so good. I want it to be good for you, I want you to enjoy it, really, come on now, relax, relax."
She gradually brought her body under control, suspending herself in a semi-paralyzed shuddering state of prone acceptance like a frightened but benumbed bird. She couldn't get her thoughts straight. It was impossible to think. His fingers were enticing her down there, importuning with such strange tense tickling that her legs unstiffened.
"Yes," Robert breathed. "Yessss!" he whispered as he felt her thighs loosen. He stroked her cotton-covered crotch, teasing her with two fingertips until her thighs began to part slightly, working stealthily, steadily downward where her sex became softer and hotter as her legs opened nervously to his caress.
He could feel every hair under her panties as he skimmed his fingers up and down, deliberately tantalizing her with the lightness of his seductive touch until her hips rose slightly in an unconscious effort to mesh her crotch against his hand.
"That's it, all you have to do is relax and enjoy it, I promise, trust me, please, trust me, that's it, open up, open your beautiful legs," he encouraged her, feeling his penis twitch with anticipation as his hand began to knead the resilient fleece that massed under the narrow band of her panties.
"Ohhhh, slower, please go slow," she begged him, hanging on the brink of sanity where his every caress inspired spontaneous combative feelings of shame and lust.
"Oh! Slowww, slowww," she breathed, shivering as his fingers stroked the satiny insides of her thighs, barely touching her inflamed intimate parts as they flew from thigh to thigh, building a slow convergence of erotic excitement in the center of her being.
"Oh!" she yipped when he returned to the juncture between her parted legs and laid a finger down in the virgin furrow of her sex.
She felt him rolling his finger there, back and forth, sinking her panties into the shallow rift of her hairy vulva, and the sensation it produced, coupled with the knowledge that he was doing it down there made her giddy, almost drunk with pure physical awareness.
He felt that she was ready. Speaking soothingly to her and moving slowly, he passed his hand up over her panties and slid it underneath, encountering the compressed hairs of her crotch and slowly wedging his middle finger into the fissure of her sex.
He was right. She was wet with expectation. He could feel her little hair-rimmed pussy accept his finger like a curving, moist mouth. He thought he'd shoot off in his pants at the feel of it, the thrill of being the first male ever to slide his finger down into the intimate, oozing groove.
He let her grab his wrist in her hands, as though his arm were a tool she could manipulate herself with. But by wiggling his finger back and forth he could feel the fatty lips opening like a slippery rose, the inner heat of her melting body sucking at his finger as it slid between the silky walls of her labia.
Her head whipped sideways, butting him wildly in the stomach when his probing fingertip caught in the tiny opening of her vagina. He hadn't meant it to, but his finger had almost plunged into the tightly guarded orifice where her taut hymen stretched untouched until now.
"Come on, sit up," he told her, suddenly inspired.
He lifted her off his lap, catching his fingers in her panties, and fighting a tug of war with her until she let them go, unwilling to tear them, and they came away, exposing the mysteriously shadowed badge of her womanhood.
Robert knelt on the floor between the seats, smiling at the amazed girl as he pulled her legs apart and draped them over his shoulders.
"What are you doing?" she asked urgently. "No! You can't, please, don't!" She was certain he was preparing to pin her for the final ravaging of her virginity.
"Shhhh!" He grabbed her by the waist, feasting on the sight of her naked breasts and belly, separated by the rumpled, bunched-up skirt and framed by her blouse which hung wantonly open. Then he pulled her down on the seat as she gasped in surprise, cupping his hands under her buttocks and lifting the irresistible fruit of her body as he bent his head toward the tender target of his lust.
She grabbed the arm rests, speechless with amazement at what he was doing. Then her body arched back against the seat as his hot breath hit her quivering pussy. She bit her lip to keep from shrieking in alarm and electrified anguish as his mouth opened and meshed against her steaming vulva. She tried to bring her legs together, felt his shaggy head between them, and squeezed it trying to get him to stop the unspeakable act.
"Gggggaaaa!" she groaned, biting the heel of her hand as she felt his tongue licking the hidden secrets of her sex, lapping at her private parts like an animal, like a dog sniffing another.
But it was more than that. He was kissing her whole sex, nuzzling and nudging it open with his face, his nose bobbing against her clitoris. And then his tongue was in the slippery chasm, running swiftly up and down her slit, making her sob with emotion.
She wanted to beg him to stop. It was too humiliating, her body open like that to a stranger, his very mouth where her fingers seldom ventured, his diabolical tongue performing feats she had never dared think about.
It was shameful and dirty, but irresistible. After only a moment of his oral preparation she was holding onto the top of the seat and digging her heels into his back, trying to wedge her whole seething vagina around his devouring face.
"Aaaaa!" she choked, chilled with the fear that someone might have heard her and come back to investigate.
She didn't believe what he was doing. His tongue, which had been revolving around the inner aperture where her hymen vibrated in proof of her virginity, was now whipping back and forth over the sensitive trigger of her clitoris. His mouth was sucking at it, working it in and out as he had done with her breasts, massaging the most sensitive raw tissues of her body with his lips and tongue.
And she was going right out of her mind. She wanted to scream-scream with pleasure and shock as he ate her-feeding on her creaming pussy like leech at an open wound. Her mind blazed with colors. Her jaws worked open and shut in silent desperation. She gripped his head with her hands, knotting her fingers in his hair, not even realizing what she was doing as she tugged up and down on his head, increasing the insane friction between her pussy and his gobbling face. Her thighs, her pelvis, her breasts, her entire shivering shapely form was racked with spasms of unbelievable pleasure.
It was a dream. She was going out of her head because of the marijuana. It couldn't be happening. This boy practicing oral sex on her, something she had hardly ever thought of but was now writhing and sobbing helplessly under.
The convulsions came in direct proportion to the ferocity of his repeated attacks on her clitoral nubbin with his thrashing tongue. She arched up, grabbing his head, her breasts, her legs, the seat, her hair, choking back the sobs of revelation and erotic rapture, thinking that the bubble would burst, and each time launching higher into a wild orbit of spastic orgasmic dances, her entire body shaking and jumping with the joy his mouth imparted on her sexual soul.
No-no-no-no-no-no, her mind chanted as she stared in disbelief. Oh, yes, oh, yes, her soul sang as the rainbow phoenix of lust flew through her body again and again, so contorting her with the paroxysms of pleasure that she finally found herself hanging by her hands from the bars of the baggage rack overhead as Robert swallowed the gushing flow of her orgasm and winked up at her from between her naked thighs.
"Oh, I don't believe it, I don't believe you did that!" she breathed, lying in an exhausted slump when he had finished, not even caring that her legs draped open, exposing her sodden cunt as shamelessly as a practiced whore's.
"I didn't know, I didn't ever realize ... it was so beautiful! How can I tell you? How...."
"I know," he smiled, wiping her juices from his mouth and chin on his sleeve. "I'm glad it was good for you. You deserve it."
"But why. Why?" It still didn't make any sense, that on a bus, she had been seduced and given more pleasure than she had ever known existed.
"Because you're so beautiful," he said solemnly.
"But what about you?" she whispered, dimly realizing that his hard, hidden organ must be in a very aroused state.
"I need you now," he told her, turning in his seat and offering his lap to her.
She stared at the conspicuous lump in his pants, wondering what was expected of her. The only time other than this that she had even been aware of a boy's thing was when one or two of her dates had tried to make out while kissing her good night and had pressed their stiff rods against her body. But she had never seen a real one, and had certainly never touched one. What could she do for him, short of surrendering her virginity?
"Oh shit!" Robert groaned, as the diesel engine shifted tone. The bus rocked, air brakes hissing. They were turning off the interstate, heading into another city. That much time had passed already! She hastily assembled her clothing, realizing that the smell of her passion hung heavily about her. Then, as the bus rolled through garishly lit city streets toward yet another terminal, they sat and stared at one another, and she knew that whatever it was she was supposed to have done to relieve his desire-the desire that had prompted him to teach her more in one night about her body than she had learned all her life-whatever it was, she would owe it to him always.
CHAPTER TWO
Her legs felt like rubber after sitting on the bus for days on end, but she walked the entire distance to her sister's apartment, lugging her suitcase over the hilly streets of the unfamiliar, beautiful city.
She thought a lot about her submission to the ardent youth during the night and though the memory of the sex he had introduced her to made her burn with embarrassment, she shivered whenever her mind wandered back to the image of his head between her thighs and the explosive feelings his mouth had gnawed from her genital parts. She had been ashamed to look at him when they left the bus for the last time. All across the country she had been looking forward to the challenge of beginning a new life here, alone except for the presence of her sister. So she had resented his impassioned attempts at accompanying her, and rebuffed his invitation to come home and meet his hippie friends. But she had taken his address down, she had that in her purse, so he wouldn't feel she was entirely deserting him, even if she couldn't adequately explain why she didn't want the burden of a new boy friend or even an acquaintance before she got settled.
She was surprised at the neighborhood her sister's address led her into. She kept thinking it would change back into a white area but it didn't. The houses got dingier and dingier and she quickened her pace, almost darting past the curious black children playing in the streets and the older musing faces that stared at her from the stoops and peeling window frames.
Her sister's house was screened off from the littered street by an elaborate metalwork cage-like an ornately decorated jail. She made sure she had the right address and pushed the button near the mailbox, feeling like she was on display before the whole block as she waited for the iron gate to open.
It buzzed and she barely figured out in time how to push it open. Up close, the building seemed in better shape than its neighbors and she was impressed by the old wood-paneled lobby she found herself standing in. She expected to hear flying footsteps and see the door flung open, to be greeted by the sister she hadn't seen in seven years. But nothing happened.
She examined the three nameplates by the door and found a faded card in one of them that bore some scratchings vaguely resembling her sister's name. She pushed the button underneath it and opened the door when, after what seemed to be an eternity, it buzzed loudly.
Her search for apartment number three took her to the third floor, and once again she was bewildered when the door at the top of the stairs failed to fly open. Her heart was beating loudly. She began to wonder if her sister had really meant the invitation, or if she still felt the same way she had seven years ago, when she left Morganville with a curse for their aunt and one for herself, sneering at her for being stupid enough to stay behind in the boondocks.
She knocked nervously, clutching her suitcase and trying to force a smile. She knocked again and then tried the door, worried now that her sister might be sick or truly spiteful the way she used to be. The door opened.
"Livy?" she called timidly. "Livy?" She stepped into the foyer, listening for a reply. She suddenly wished she hadn't spurned Robert at the station in her guilt, that he was with her now, someone she could trust in the eerie silence.
She was setting down her suitcases when she heard a heavy footfall approaching that made her freeze in her tracks.
"Eeeeek!" she screamed as a shadow loomed across her and she found herself confronted by a huge black man, naked to the waist, his teeth shining luminously above the dark mass of his muscled upper body. He stepped forward and swiftly shut the door behind her, setting all four locks as she watched with terrified eyes.
"So you got here!" he boomed, as she tried to shrink into the woodwork. He thrust his massive black head toward her and she smelled alcohol mixed with the smell of sweat. "Heyyyy!" he growled grinningly, "you weren't supposed to be so fine looking!"
"P-please," she stammered, gesturing clumsily toward the door he had bolted with such finality.
"Un-uh," he shook his head. "You in the right place. The kid sister, right?" He jabbed a forefinger at her.
She didn't know what to think. Not that it was so outrageous for a man to be in her sister's apartment, but Livy, more than anyone she had known back home, had despised black people. What was he doing here, so terrifyingly big and half-naked to boot, so threateningly close to her that she was ready to faint from fear?
"I'm looking for my sister, Livy...."
"You found her, you found her!" His voice was like a roaring engine. He picked up her suitcase like it was a Kleenex and strode into the next room. "She ain't here now."
She crept into the room, astonished not only by its luxurious furnishings, but by the mess everywhere-papers and clothing, dirty dishes, heaping ashtrays and half-filled glasses everywhere.
"She said you'd probably be getting in today but goddamn!" he swore, "she didn't let on that you'd be so pretty. Pretty little thing!" he grinned, showing all his teeth as he stepped up to her and took her chin in his huge hand.
She went rigid, numb with terror. Not so much that a black man was touching her, although it had never happened before, but by his overbearing attitude which seemed to imply that she had arrived right on time to fulfill some dark expectation on his part. She thought of the door, with all its locks, and stood mute as he loomed over her, the muscles rippling under his gleaming black skin as he stroked her head and then slowly closed his meaty fingers around the base of her neck.
"Pleeease!" she whimpered as he pulled her to him. She saw the little wiry hairs kinked in tiny coils on his bull-like, naked chest and then shut her eyes in fright as he tilted her head up in both his hands and kissed her.
Her whole body jerked and wiggled, as though her feet had left the floor and she was hanging from his hands. A shudder of loathing went through her as his fleshy lips mashed against her mouth, suffusing her being with the rank smell of stale alcohol.
"Ohhhh-ohhh!" she sobbed when he broke away. His hands slid down over her shoulders and held her still, the whites of his eyes flashing as he examined her point-blank, as though she were some commodity on the block to be handled, judged and used as he saw fit.
"Livyyy! Livyyy!" she wailed, breaking into tears as she realized his eyes were roaming up and down her figure, burning her clothes away with the intensity of his leering stares.
"Hey now! You got to quiet down, quiet dowwwn!" he ordered her, squeezing her upper arms until she thought all the bones would splinter.
"Owwww-owwww," she cried, as much from pain as the expectation that he was about to kill her, that somehow she had blundered into the role of victim in an unimaginable nightmare that she had done nothing to deserve.
"No jive, now!" he warned her. "Don't make me hurt you. Nice and quiet, that's it," he smiled satanically as she gulped down the impulse to shriek for help, hot tears rolling down her cheeks as she blinked helplessly at him.
"Heyyyy! Do I scare you?"
She shook her head up and down. It was true-she was terrified. Maybe it was all just a game, a cruel joke he was perpetrating in his drunken state.
"You never been handled by a black buck like me?"
She shook her head desperately.
"Then you haven't lived, sweet thing, you haven't lived!"
"Where's my sister?" she sobbed, looking around half in the fear that she'd spy Livy's dead body somewhere in the apartment.
"Never mind about her-she left me to take care of you, dig? And I'm going to do just that!"
"D-don't, please, don't!" she mewled as his big fingers unbuttoned her coat and began to remove it.
"Don't you, now!" he threatened as her coat fell to the floor. "Don't act up and make me mess up that pretty white face of yours!"
"Ohhhh-ohhh!" she groaned, breaking into great sobs as he picked her up with his hands around her waist as though she were a plaster mannequin and carried her, weeping and kicking, into a room which contained the biggest bed she'd ever seen, covered with a quilted, satiny scarlet spread.
He set her down facing him and sat down on the bed, licking his lips and glaring at her as she chokingly cried out her fear and anguish. Then he began undressing her, as if she were a little girl standing between his knees, swiftly unbuttoning the front of her blouse as her tears dripped onto his arms.
"Pllease, p-pllease, oh, plleeease!" she lamented, nearly collapsing with grief and shame as he pulled the tails of her blouse from her skirt and stripped it off her body.
"Whyyy? Please, whyyy??" she sobbed. Why was he doing this? What had she done? Where was Livy?
"Cause you're so pretty, so fairrr," he mimicked her cracking voice, "that I'm going to eat you up!" He smacked his big lips loudly and she turned her head away, drowning in her own tears as her body trembled before him with stifled outcries.
His hands went around her narrow waist, finding the clasp and zipper with shocking speed and certainty, causing the blue skirt to drop around her ankles, leaving her nearly naked. She looked down and saw herself, clad only in bra and panties, standing before his half-naked figure and comprehended with a sickening chill what he wanted, that it was no joke, that he lusted for her and was going to inflict the worst fate that any girl could suffer from any man upon her virgin body.
She lunged for the bedside table, grabbing the heavy glass ashtray, consumed with a panicky instinct to beat him with it, drive him off, protect her defenseless femininity. He seized her wrist, easily squeezing it until she whimpered and dropped the ashtray, chuckling at her inspired resistance.
"Little hellcat, ain't you? Little down-home hellion!" His other hand came up from nowhere and suddenly his fingers had closed on her throat, constricting it so she couldn't breathe, her eyes bulging out, her body twitching in the throes of suffocation.
"Ahhhh!" she gasped when he let go, her head spinning, her hands fingering the welts his grip had left on her slender white throat, unable to believe he had not only almost choked her to death, but had stopped before she could mercifully black out and die rather than endure what he so obviously had planned for her.
"Now I don't mind a little fighting, but at the right time!" His hands were around her slender waist, keeping her from toppling to the floor.
"Yeah, you're a real beauty-real sweet, sexy thing!"
His hand moved up the groove in her back, pulling at the straps of her bra so that it dug into the flesh around the base of her breasts, then loosing the hooks so that it snapped away.
"Ahhhh!" he exclaimed, plucking the bra from her breasts and sliding it down her arms. "Pretty! Really pretty. Mighty fine-I like 'em small, lets me eat 'em up like ice cream sundaes!" He bent her forward so her pointed boobs hung toward his wiggling pink tongue. She groaned as he licked at her nipples, scourging the soft red berries with his wet spatula of a tongue.
"Nooo, plllease," she whimpered, trying in vain to pull away, to keep her sensitive nipples from the greedy crater of his mouth.
"Owwww!" He was pulling her whole tit into his mouth, sucking the stiffening nipple into the back of his throat as his lips gnawed at her, holding her entire boob in captive suction until she thought she must be bleeding. He did the same to the other one and through her tear-blurred eyes she saw that her breasts were shining with the sheen of his saliva.
"Don't, don't!" she implored him as he hooked his thumbs in the elastic waistband of her panties and edged them down around her hips, letting go of her breasts to gaze at the emerging triangle of her silky black hairs as the panties were pushed down her legs, leaving her standing in her shoes with the useless clothing around her feet.
"Oh, but I got to, I got to do it now, you naked and standing here like this!"
She kept crying as he ran his big rough hands up and down her nude body, massaging her hips and thighs, jabbing his thumbs between her legs, squeezing her breasts until the nipples were so tight they almost burst, exploring and teasing her body while she shook like a rabbit, her skin crawling and jumping under his caresses.
"Noooo, noooo," she moaned pitifully when he lifted her up and placed her on the bed as though she were a rag doll.
"You can't, plllease, you can't," she begged as he stood up and unbuckled his trousers.
"Can't!" he laughed. "Looky here and tell me I can't!"
Her eyes went wide with shock as he pushed his pants down. There, between the dark, powerful columns of his legs, hung an immense black penis, wagging over a sagging pair of smoky, curl-covered balls.
She whined incoherently, nearly hysterical with fear and revulsion. It was worse than anything she had ever imagined. It was immense and lasciviously grotesque and yet she realized instinctively, with a jolt of nausea, that it wasn't even hard, aroused, erect, or anywhere near as big as his lust would raise it.
"Please!" she begged, squirming away as he knelt on the bed and, seizing her ankles, lewdly spread her legs wide open. She could see that it was already moving, the hideous black appendage, already as big as a banana, swelling and enlarging with every second.
"Oh, no, no, please no," she babbled frantically as he hunkered between her splitting white thighs and, licking his fingers with an insane leer, jabbed them into her crotch, worming them between the dry, hair-rimmed lips of her innocent vulva.
It wasn't possible-she was dreaming-she'd wake up any minute and find herself in bed in Morganville, wakened from a nightmare of rape such as she used to suffer occasionally. It couldn't be happening. Not like this, not here, like this, by force, with him!
Her fists beat on her temples, trying to smash her brain, to keep herself from registering the sight of his black member that was now rearing and lengthening, growing with rhythmic jerks to a blunt-domed cudgel as big as her forearm.
It was too big! Impossibly big! Couldn't he see that! He was too big for her-he couldn't rape her-it wouldn't work-not without tearing her open, ripping her guts out. She saw herself lying, dying on the bed, the blood gushing from the raw wound his prick would make. Raped to death by a savage penis too big to look at without gagging, much less to take in her virgin cunt.
He had wet his fingers with saliva again and, holding her twitching, naked thighs open, rubbed them deep, painfully deep, into the slippery, squishy slit of her sex, readying her for the onslaught of his fierce, throbbing bludgeon.
"No, no, please, you can't, you mustn't, I'm not what you think!" She couldn't say it.
"Nooo? What is you?" he laughed deep in his chest, his eyes inflamed by the sight of her naked body spread-eagled before him, his black finger skewering into the tightness of her hair-lined pussy.
"Plllease!" she sobbed. "I'm a ... a, oh, pllease, I'm a virgin! I swear it, honest to God, I've never done it before! Please don't! You can't! I've never, oh, please, it's too big, I can't! I really can't, please, pllleeease, I'll do anything!"
His smile had broadened to a salacious leer as her frantic words tumbled out. His finger went deep into her vagina, quickly finding the precious obstacle that confirmed her frenzied confession.
"There's always got to be a first time!" he laughed wickedly, hunching himself up over her, his black battering ram of a penis angling obscenely down between her milky thighs.
"No, please, I'm telling you the truth, I'm a virgin, please, please believe me, oh, please, pllleeease!"
"I believe you, baby!" he grinned, grabbing her wrists and pinning her arms above her head so that her breasts flattened, his knees maintaining the spread position of her legs.
"Pllleeease, pllleeease!" she gasped, looking up into his lecherous eyes in horror-stricken disbelief.
"Keep it quiet now!" he warned her, settling his body down so the head of his engorged organ slid between her silky thighs and wedged into the hairy rift where they formed their apex.
She shook in a spasm at the contact of his foreskin with the damp intimate tissue of her cunt.
"Ain't gonna be rape unless you make it be," he sneered exultantly. "There, you feel my cock against your pussy-feel it?"
"Yes, yes!" she gasped. "It's too big, can't you see? Please, I'll do anything you want. I'm a virgin, I am, I am, I-aaahhh! Aaaaa!"
He bore down, slowly swiveling his body so that his prickhead screwed into the narrow channel, jamming against her innocent inner aperture with an" agonizing pressure that made her mouth fly open.
"Now help me!" he demanded. "Bear down and get it over with! Bear dowwwnnn!"
"Nooo! OWWWW!" she cried, writhing under a pain worse than anything she had ever felt in her life.
"Come on, hold on, bear down on my big black cock, come on!"
"OWWWW!" she howled, clinging to the hope that he would find it impossible, that if she could just bear the white-hot pain a moment longer, he would back off and she would be saved.
But he kept revolving. She could feel the blunt head of his prick grating against her straining hymen. Slowly, unconsciously, her knees came up, instinct overpowering agony, her body trying to adjust to his assault even as her mind kept refusing the reality of the attack.
"That's it, I can feel it," he gasped in a hoarse bass voice. "I can feel my cock sitting on your tight little cherry!"
"No, no, no, no, no," she babbled, transfixed by her victimization, almost numb to the fact that it was happening, in the first few weeks of her twenty-first year. She was being raped, her body entered for the first time by a man.
"YEEEAHHH!" he exulted, driving down, ramming the inflexible mallet of his lust into her.
She shrieked in anguish as her chastity, her innocence, her maidenhead, was shredded savagely by the powerful lunge of his cruel cock.
Her legs went straight up in the air as her bloodied body struggled to reject the alien intrusion. Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. Her secondary screams of agony were muffled as his mouth slobbered over hers, soaking up her sounds of torment.
A blinding bolt of lightning seemed to rend her mind in two. All her senses were paralyzed and she hung on a knife edge, unable to comprehend the dagger that tore her body open, grindingly jacking her pelvic cradle open as it penetrated her loins, mashing down into the untested organs in her abdomen, bloating and stretching her virgin cuntal passage, filling her body with his lust until the head of his relentless rod seemed to be driving for her very heart.
"Goddamn, you motherfucker, you're tight! So goddamned tight!"
"S-s-s-sto-stop!" she tried to tell him, feeling his cock disemboweling her with the suction of his attempted withdrawal, pulling away the last tatters of her horribly ruptured hymen with his monstrous prick.
"Yeeeahhh!" he gloated, pushing down on her hips as she beat upon his head and shoulders with ineffectual fists, too far gone to even cry as he extracted his bloodied root from the splitting scabbard of her cunt.
"Ohhhh, man! So tight! I can feel every little ripple in your honky cunt!" he swore as he pinned her to the bed again, ecstatic over his triumph and the delicious resistance of her involuntarily clutching vagina.
She couldn't believe she had been robbed of her most priceless possession. Numbed with pain she lay heaving under the efforts of his powerful thrusts, sliding back and forth on the bed, coupled to his pistoning penis by the wound he had drilled deep into her secret slot.
He had raped her! She had dreamed of the day she would have a lover, someone who would come to her slowly and seductively, gently wooing her and luring her into such a state of love and longing that she would hardly notice the loss that she knew most girls her age had experienced long ago. Instead she was being brutally raped by this black stranger, this brutal giant who unfeelingly plunged his swollen sword of lust again and again into the aching abcess of her innocent pussy.
Her mouth gaped open each time he drove down, a faint moan escaping her as he buried the immense bulk of his bludgeon deep in her body and ground his kinky groin against the throbbing hump of her pubis. It was so hard to believe that he was moving inside her, that her body was swallowing the full mass of his thing. But the sharp pain at the end of her straining vaginal passage, told her it was true.
"Ohhhh, god!" she finally sobbed, feeling as though she was yielding up her soul as her legs flew open and his huge shaft scraped between her tingling narrows, cramming his hard manhood into the unwilling vessel of her vagina.
"That's it, baby! Wail away now, get it on! Start rockin' with your black rider!" he panted, the sweat dropping from his shining form onto her naked breasts and belly.
"Uuuuh! Uhhhnnnh!" she gasped, her delicate hands pushing up on his shoulders, trying to soften the blows that his powerful body battered her with in each nerve-searing stroke.
"That's right, that's right, let it go now, let it come!"
He worked over her furiously, pulling down on her shoulders each time he screwed his impaling engine into the slippery mouth of her sex, filling her agonized body with the rigid log of his lust, working her open until he could move swiftly and regularly, sending his heavy balls clapping against her perspiring ass.
She started to cry again. Not for the pain, because it seemed to recede with each pistoning cycle, melting slowly away until it was hard to believe she had nearly died from the agony of perforation under his conquest. She cried because a hint of the erotic excitement she had felt on the bus the night before was returning to her, welling up uncontrollably in the churning female flesh massaged by his bloated penis as it skewered in and out of her.
And she was powerless to stop it. She didn't want it, fought it, tried to deny it, but it grew stronger, widening to an intoxicating glow that heated her loins with a new flame, of pleasure-deeply satisfying, bone-softening pleasure that inexorably drowned the pain that had riveted her mind to the memory of rape and remorse.
She ground her teeth together and covered her eyes with her hands. She tried going limp then making her entire body tense. But it Was conquering her, washing through her with each maddening stroke of his blood-smeared machine in and out of her impressionable pussy lips.
It locked her into a trance, driving her along like a slender ship through heavy seas, making her mind pitch and roll with undulating sensations of erotic rapture. Then, as he quickened his phallic pummeling of her gaping genital gash, she started to tumble through the frothing rapids of violent reaction.
Her moans turned to strange, animal-sounding cries and her body began working under his. The commotion in his loins had hooks in her entire body and seemed to be winding her in, doubling her up, as the spring of lustful tension tightened.
She couldn't help herself, couldn't stop her hands from climbing up his flexing arms and creeping over his knotting shoulders until her white arms were actually around his bullish neck. She couldn't unbend her legs. They rose up against his sides, her thighs clamoring for the contact with his rocking hips, frictioning against his muscled waist until they gripped his black body with an ivory scissors-hold that angled her crotch up and down in time to his piercing pulsing penetrations.
She hated herself but soon no single emotion was possible in the face of the vortex roiling in her vagina, the whirlpool of passion that seemed to suck her whole being down around the giddy muscles that molded to the reciprocating rod of his mighty meat.
"Aaah, unh, ohh, ahh!" she muttered.
"Chant that love music!" he told her, scooping up her body in his big hands, fighting to hold back the burning forces that shot up and down his cock.
"Ohhh! Ohhh! OHHH! OHHHH! OHHHH!" Something snapped inside her. Compared to the tidal tremors of lust that boiled through her, her reaction to Robert's oral sex had been nothing. She was afraid of it, but it kept on coming. Stronger and stronger, dissolving her entire being, welding her molten cunt to the unspeakable instrument of his lust, making it hers too, until her head thrashed back and forth, her spine arched to scour her hot breasts against his sweating chest, her buttocks clenched and unknown muscles deep inside her snapped at his jerking prick, trying to suck him completely in, ravenous, gobbling at the gaff that completely engorged her creaming cunt.
She no longer knew what she was doing, no longer registered pain, or humiliation, but clung to her assailant like a nymphomaniac draining her black warrior, shouting with perverse delight as her first full orgasm possessed her and lofted her high atop the spurting jets of his scalding come as his magnificent member recoiled wildly and blasted her soul, inspiring her to shout insanely, reveling in the ecstasy of his seed stabbing her vitals and flushing out the creaming come from the deepest recesses of her own palpitating passion pit.
CHAPTER THREE
"What the fuck is happening around here?"
She heard the voice and knew it was her sister, sitting upright on the bed where the black had left her limp and exhausted, physically and morally.
"Who the fuck is that in there? Don't give me that shit, buster, I want to know what's going on!"
"Livy! Livy!" she yelled, grabbing her clothes off the floor and holding them up in front of her as she knelt on the bloodstained bed.
Her sister appeared in the wide doorway, at least she thought it was her sister. The older woman looked more like thirty-five than just four years older than herself. She was dressed like a caricature of the city cousin, in a brilliant red minidress with a plunging neckline, a silver fur across her nearly bare shoulders, black mesh stockings, and glittering jewelry hanging from her ears and wrists. She stared at the teased hair, the heavy make-up, the general outfit, and tried to reconcile the image with the eighteen-year-old girl who had left Morganville in a faded sundress and sandals.
"Well?" She rocked back and forth on her high heels and she saw at once that something was wrong with her, too unsteady, almost unbalanced, the same glitter in her eyes that the black rapist had.
"Livy, it's me, Nancy!" She wanted to run and hug her but was suddenly caught up in the confusion of her nakedness. Her sister steadied herself against the doorframe and stared at her in disbelief.
"Didn't waste any time, did you?" she finally said in a gravelly voice.
"No! No, Livy, oh, dear God, it was him, it was him, as soon as I got here he ... he ... he...." It suddenly crashed on her what had happened, that he had forced her, deflowered her, screwed her on her sister's bed, and she collapsed in a heap, crying bitterly for the injustice and degradation of it all.
"You little slut! Don't give me that bullshit!" Livy stormed, recalling all the spite and venom she had belabored Nancy with back in Morganville.
"God, can't you see what he did!" Nancy shrieked tearfully as her sister reached down and yanked her up by the arm.
"I see what he did!" she raged in return. "And I see what you did!" She tossed her head in the direction of the grinning black who lounged against the doorframe, his slightly shrunken cock still glistening the evidence of their union.
"He-he raped me! He raped me! I walked in and he raped me! He made me do it, Livy, he forced me! I was a-I was a virgin! VIRGIN!" she howled, venting all her grief and fury on her cynical sister before breaking into racking sobs.
"Goddamn, Coit, I thought you were through with that shit!" she said to the naked, amused black.
"You didn't tell me she was such a nice piece. She walked in and I didn't know she was any different from you-I just got carried away."
"Carried away!" Livy sneered.
"HE RAPED ME!" Nancy screamed. "LOOK! LOOK IF YOU don't BELIEVE ME! LOOK!" She pointed to the still vivid bloodstains drying on the bedspread.
Her sister's eyes slowly widened. "Goddamn! God DAMN! GOD DAMN, YOU SON OF A BITCH YOU RUINED MY NEW SPREAD YOU COCKSUCKER I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD GODDAMN IT I'LL KILL YOU!"
She seized the same ashtray that Nancy had tried to use in self-defense and hurled it at the black, who darted out of the way into the other room.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SPENT FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS COVERING THAT BED AND THAT WONT COME OUT IT'S RUINED YOU RUINED IT YOU BASTARD!"
"Livy, Livy!" Nancy cried, hauling herself off the bed, dazed by the fact that her sister who had virtually ignored her plight was enraged with her friend over the stains of her dishonor, and stunned at the ferocity of the rage Livy was now expending on her black friend.
She winced as objects crashed in the living room. Her sister's curses filled the apartment, mingling with the throaty chuckles of the Negro. Holding her coat in front of her body, she sidled to the door, still weeping and calling to her sister.
"Hah! Hah!" the naked black was taunting as he dodged the missiles hurled at him by the apoplectic young woman. But Nancy could see that he was advancing on her, slowly stalking Livy while she vented her misplaced tantrum, backing her up while narrowly avoiding injury from the hail of things she was throwing at him.
"Enough! Hah! Enough, now! Down! Down!" he exclaimed, catching the older sister suddenly and twisting her arms until she was forced to her knees.
"You bastard! Black nigger bastard!" Livy snarled at him.
"That's right! That's right! You kept your nigger waiting! Hauling your ass around town! Now you're gonna suck my black man's meat!"
"AAAAOOOWWW!" Livy screamed in fury as he forced her back against the sofa, tilting her face up by the hair as he straddled her body.
"Livyyyy!" Nancy wailed in desperation, all too easily sympathizing with her sister's struggles as her captor thrust his dangling blue-black root in her face.
"You get your ass the fuck out of here!" he cursed her, causing her to jump back inside the bedroom, fearful that he would turn on her again. She heard him grunt repeatedly and then her sister was moaning in a muffled tone. It was a nightmare straight out of the tabloids. She thought of phoning the police, but the weird sounds her sister was making drew her back to the door and she peered around it, half-expecting to see the black strangling Livy.
What she did see made her gag in astonishment. The black was bowed over Livy's semi-prostrate form. He was holding her head in both hands, and his penis was in her mouth. In her mouth! Nancy couldn't believe her eyes. The thick black penis which had so recently assaulted her was thrusting in and out of Livy's oval-shaped lips. And the thing that shocked her most was that her sister wasn't fighting off the depraved attack. Her hands were clutching the backs of his thighs. Grotesque gurgling noises sounded from her throat. Her cheeks were blowing in and out as her mouth contorted from the force of the organ swelling in the ring of her red lips, propelled into her face by his jerking, shining buttocks.
"Oh, Livy, oh, God, Livy!" she whispered in hoarse despair.
But neither her sister nor her assailant heard her or paid her any attention.
"That's it! That's it!" he was chortling, repeating those words that were so loathsome to her. "Suck it, bitch. Suck my black cock!"
The spectacle of her sister's surrender seared Nancy's innocent eyes. She was speechless at the bizarre sight of the noxious organ growing to its full length as it screwed violently in and out of Livy's distorted lips. The same organ that had raped her, that had just stabbed her virginity from her, filthy with her own blood and the come he had unleashed in her own body-now churning in and out of Livy's mouth. And her sister embracing his body as it bucked over her, her fingers unashamedly grasping his flexing ass cheeks as his purple scrotum jounced to and fro.
Nancy felt sick. The fact that he was a black man suddenly took on a real meaning for her. The shock of her own defilement had been such that merely his masculine identity was sufficient target for all her feelings. But her stomach was turned as she witnessed this obscene and undreamed of exploitation of her sister's body, not just performed by a man, but by a black! A black penis running in and out of Livy's frothing mouth, piercing her white face with its cucumber bulk, using her in a manner that was worse-if anything could be-than the satisfaction it had obtained at the price of her own shattered innocence.
"No, Livy, oh, no!" Nancy whispered, horrified at the perverted drama which it was obvious her sister was no longer resisting. That was what made her mind reel-the fact that Livy was pulling his loins to her, moaning with unmistakable excitement as her lips noisily sucked on the skewering sooty shaft.
What had happened to her? What had her sister become? What kind of twisted, sick creature had she turned into?
Nancy saw the black withdraw his penis from her mouth until the blunt, rounded head hovered between her lips. Livy's pink tongue whipped out and flew around the black bulbous bludgeon, licking and lapping at the phallic flesh with enthusiastic ardor.
"Looky here! See how you're gonna come to love this black meat!" he boomed triumphantly, half-turning his body so that Nancy was treated to the full tableaux of her sister's head jerking back and forth, her lips opening and shutting as she slid them over the ugly staff, her tongue dancing wantonly around the flaring slime-encrusted crown.
Nancy shook her head in slow, mute terror, hardly able to comprehend what her eyes were seeing: the black grabbing a handful of Livy's hair and guiding her head back and forth, his knees bending as he launched into a new copulatory rhythm, lunging back and forth so that most of his monstrous member wormed into Livy's mouth, jacking her jaws open, her own legs thrashing excitedly back and forth as she sat on the floor, the red minidress almost up around her hips, her back arched and her face turned up to receive his satanic stroking.
"Suck, suck, suck it harder, suck!" the black demanded, shaking Livy by the hair so her head wobbled crazily on the ball of his manhood. Her slurping sounds became louder and lewder, her cheeks hollowing as her body slaved to fulfill his command, her gurgling moans of pathetic abandon sending chills of dark dismay through the younger sister.
"Yeah! Ohyeeeeaaaahhhh!" He threw his head back and sang out his pleasure. His hands locked around Livy's head and forced her to accept more of his crazily careening cock, cramming its outsized odious mass into her mouth until Nancy could see her sister arching and writhing in torment.
But she couldn't take her eyes off the coupling, the unthinkable union of his black stanchion wallowing in her sister's welcoming mouth, moving so fast and furiously now that his whole organ emerged and disappeared in a dark blur, Livy holding her mouth open in a degenerate saliva-coated O, her lips popping with the impact of his rubbery foreskin plunging in and out of the oral ring she made for him.
"Oh, shit, I'm coming, I'm coming you bitch! Suck my black cock! Eat my come, suck it up, oh, fuck! Suck it up, oh, shit, OHHHH!" he yelled.
Nancy crouched in silent hysteria, agog at the sight of his jerking penis, seeing it flex and bounce just as she had felt it do in the injured opening of her own body, astounding her with the sight of his ropy white sperm erupting into Livy's mouth, splaying the viscous strands of his liquid lust over her lips and chin as his spitting joint leapt in and out of her mouth, pumping out its passion as Livy whinnied with depraved demands, her soiled lips nipping at his flying phallus, overflowing with the ghastly froth of his spurting seed until Nancy could scarcely believe that this woman was her sister-this upturned, demonic face laced with gobs of hot seed as her mouth gobbled at his shrinking pliant cock, her white hands squeezing the bag of his testicles as though trying to force up more of the awful emission that coated her lips and painted her chin so obscenely that Nancy's boggled mind could hardly admit it was happening right there before her.
"Ohhh, lover!" Livy's voice was thick, animal sounding with the choking glut of the glistening come her lips were lapping from his shriveling, spent shank.
Nancy retreated into the bedroom, crying dazedly, holding her stomach, wanting the burning feeling there to erupt in sickness and purge her of the vertigo the spectacle had inspired. She tried to shut her ears against the sounds of Livy's repast, tried to stop her mind from dwelling on the freshly nauseating image of Livy licking and sucking the very come from the black man's darting dick. She threw herself on the bed, wanting to die, wondering why her world had been turned so upside down, her life transformed from happy innocence to tortured guilt and overwhelming shame, more for her sister's animal transformation than for her own plundered chastity.
"Hey, hey, it's all over, you can wake up now, Coit's gone! You hear me, Nan? He's gone. Come on now, honey!"
Nancy woke with a start from her comatose state, flinching at the touch of the hand on her shoulder before she realized it was her sister's. She rolled over on her back with a groan. Livy was standing by the bed in a long yellow robe, her hair tumbled about her shoulders.
"Hey now, come on, let me pull the spread back and get into bed. Here's some hot soup. Come on now, sit up and drink it down."
"Oh, Livy, Livy!" she started to wail anew as she gained consciousness and a flood of images returned to her fevered mind.
"Cut it out now, honey!" Livy said in a hard voice, helping her into the bed and handing her a cup of steaming soup. "No use crying over spilt milk."
Nancy couldn't believe her ears. Livy was acting as if nothing had really happened, as if she hadn't been raped, and then been confronted with the spectacle of her sister submitting to oral sex, with the same black monster.
"Livy!" she slobbered over the soup. "He raped me! He...." she broke down again in sobs, stricken by the finality of it all, the fact that she no longer possessed the right or the means to offer up her body in pure love to any man.
"Listen, Nan, if it's any consolation, I've been raped, too. You don't seem to be seriously injured. What d'you want, honey? You're what now? Twenty-one? Yeah. Turned into a real pretty girl! How the hell did you stay a virgin all this time? No, don't tell me, you were throwing away all those years on that old bitch-no, I don't want to even think about it. Forget it! Listen, are you all right?"
Nancy couldn't speak, choking on another wave of grief and self-pity.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, but are you all right? Are you still bleeding or anything? Do I have to get a doctor?"
She shook her head slowly, the tears dripping from her jaw.
"Okay, thank Christ! Coit's such a big fucker, I thought he might've really torn you up!"
Nancy cried out loud, remembering the vivid sensation of her hymen tearing, the ripping sound that had rasped through her body when he finally drove the merciless stake of his lust into the heart of her innocence.
"Who is he? Why was he here?" she finally gasped.
"Oh, he's just a guy...." Livy started to explain.
"Just a guy!" Nancy echoed in disbelief, thinking of what her sister had done with him. "But you, you let him, uuuhh! You let him put his thing in your mouth!"
The two sisters stared at each other, trying to reconcile what each had become with their memories of seven years ago and long before.
"You got a lot to learn, honey," Livy announced. "Just remember that was the reason I split from Morganville, because people were always telling me what I should be doing and what I shouldn't. You were one of them. I got out then and I've never looked back.
"I didn't invite you out here. I'm glad you came, that you woke up finally and got out yourself. I'm glad you're here and I'll do what I can for you, but don't try to run my life, Nan. What I do probably shocks you, but I'm not gonna justify it. I'm the way I am and I can't change...."
"What are you?" Nancy interrupted. "What do you do?"
"I'm what you'd call a whore, honey," her sister replied.
Nancy gulped, nearly spilling her soup. She looked up into Livy's eyes, searching their constricted orbs, trying to find the lie or the jest in them, and failing.
"I make my own living, I keep my own hours, I do what I do," she added.
Nancy stared out over the bed, re-examining the expensive furnishings, the elaborate stereo equipment, noticing two big closets stuffed with clothes that she hadn't spotted before, and fighting to keep back the fresh tears, to respect her sister for what she was, to keep her sorrow, her sense of loss on behalf of her hardened and cynical blood kin to herself.
"I'm not asking to mess in your life," Livy stated, "and I don't need anyone messing in mine."
"But he was your friend," Nancy said slowly. "He was waiting here for me and...." She couldn't finish. Every time she thought about it, a fresh pain lanced the wound of her femininity.
"Well ... I'm sorry about that. He was waiting for me. I was late getting back. Maybe if you hadn't been so uptight ... hell, let's forget it. It's over with. I'm sorry, Nan, but at least you don't have to worry about it anymore."
"B-but it's not f-fair," Nancy wept, as her sister climbed into the spacious bed. "It wasn't fair!" she cried bitterly, letting herself curl up against Livy's warm body.
"The world isn't fair," the older girl agreed. She stretched herself down in the bed, pulling Nancy against her, holding the naked girl to her body, her weeping head on her full bosom, letting her exhaust her grief while she stroked the short, shiny cap of her sister's hair.
"So what are you going to do?" Livy asked after a few minutes.
"Wha...?" Nancy gulped.
"How're you going to support yourself now that you're out here? What're you going to do?"
"I d-don't know...."
"Well, I guess we can-have you thought about getting a job? Is there anything you can do?"
"I don't know."
"Okay, we'll think about it tomorrow. You know," Livy purred, stroking Nancy's head sensuously, "you can't blame Coit. I mean, if I'd known you'd grown up to be so good-looking, I might not have left him here, knowing you'd be coming. But don't tell me, with your looks, that you haven't had a lot of the peckerwoods in your pants, huh?"
"You're looking okay yourself," Nancy managed to lie, thinking, in truth, that her sister's washed-out pallor and bloodshot eyes must be symptomatic of some general physical debilitation, although from what she didn't know.
"Yeah, but when I split, you were just a little Miss No-account. Now you've really got looks, and a body to go with them!"
"Thanks," Nancy gulped.
"Look at me, for instance!" Livy rolled her aside and opening her bathrobe, shrugged out of it, lying back on the pillows naked above the covers. "I'm softening up, losing it, you know?" She cupped her large breasts in her hands and hefted them, showing Nancy the slight slack they had developed. "Of course, no one complains. I guess I stay in pretty fair shape with all the exercise I get!" She winked at Nancy, who struggled to adjust to the confessions and concerns of her sister.
"But I could stand to lose a few pounds. I used to be as thin as you are."
Without any warning she threw the covers back, exposing both of them completely. Nancy stared dully at her sister's older body, recognizing the family figure beneath the added curves and padding that Livy had developed. On her abdomen was an ominous red scar which she didn't ask about.
"I love your body, Nan!" the older girl purred, stroking the flank of Nancy's figure, letting her hand slide down the graceful swoop of her waist and slip up over the rise of her hip. "Don't," Nancy whispered.
"Come on, Nan!" Livy rebuked her. "I'm only your sister, for Christ's sakes! Doesn't it feel good? Come on, admit it, doesn't this feel good?"
She had pushed Nancy over on her back and was running her hand up and down over her naked flesh. Nancy drew in her breath sharply when the female fingers stroked her breast, freezing beneath the touch, not wanting to admit that it did feel good, that her sister's caress brought her a strange and sinful pleasure.
"You're really beautiful!" Livy praised her, turning on her side and gazing at her naked figure as she ran her hand up and down her lithe body.
"Livy!" she exclaimed, startled out of her head by the fact that her sister had bent over her and kissed her breast with hot, moist lips.
"N-nooo! Livy, please, what are you doing!" she gasped, trying to push away the head that had begun to feed on her breasts, trailing the thick mane of her sister's hair ticklishly over her chest.
Livy lifted her face, looking down into Nancy's eyes, her expression at once understanding, intimate and yearningly impersonal.
"Hasn't a woman ever made love to you, either?" she breathed, dipping to plant a kiss in the ivory valley between Nancy's pale breasts.
"Nooo!" How could she think such a thing!
"Honey, you've missed out on so much, so much!" Livy sighed. "Let me kiss you. No, don't fight me. Take it easy. Let me show you. Relax now, let me show you, Nan!"
Nancy had a confused flash of reliving the rape that had been forced on her only hours before. But this was her sister. Her own sister! Kissing her breasts as fervently as Robert had last night, with as much devotion, seizing the nippled cones in her lips and sucking her tits lasciviously until she writhed in goaded discomfort.
"Please, Livy, please don't!" she begged her sister, feeling too weak, too lonely and helpless to struggle against the advances of her own flesh and blood, even if she was a woman too.
"You'll like it," Livy assured her. "Rememeber when we used to sleep in the same bed?"
Nancy remembered as her sister kissed a tingling trail of erotic sensation down from her breasts to her fluttering flat belly. They had hugged each other in those days, little girls twined together, sometimes exploring each other's body, Livy showing her younger childish sister how her adolescent body was beginning to burgeon with female curve and sprout its first hints of sexual hair. But they had been kids then, and they were grown women now!
"Hard to blame Coit-I feel like raping you myself!" Livy joked callously, letting her fingers trail down over the mossy hair on Nancy's pubis to the hot V of her smooth inner thighs.
Nancy lay there transfixed. After all that had happened she was no longer capable of shock or amazement. It didn't seem worth it to resist. Hadn't she been ruined already? Rape or not, was she any different from her sister, a self-avowed prostitute? What claim did she have to her own body after the way it had been abused and plundered of its single precious prize? What did her conscience matter-seduced last night on the bus, shattered by the Negro's assault, numbed now as her sister skillfully began to tease the awful phantom of erotic passion back to life?
"You need to relax, poor kid, after what you've been through! That Coit's a motherfucker, but you came through it okay. Let me show you now how good it can be, let me show you...."
Nancy closed her eyes, feeling dizzy as Livy's hand worked her thighs open, stroking the naked soft flanges of her sperm-matted vulva, while her mouth worked silently, with slippery skill, rousing her nipples to pulsing, turgid erection.
Only yesterday, somewhere out in the deserts and mountains of the country, she had felt so confident, so sure of herself, so determined to take what the world had to offer and sort it out into a new life. Now everything was unreal. She no longer knew her own body. In spite of everything it had undergone, it was reacting to Livy's caresses and kisses, beginning to burn and boil with an explicit longing for the very kind of carnal consummation that had marked her fall from grace.
"Oh, plllease, plllease!" she heard herself begging once more, turning and twisting in a torment of rising helpless physical desire.
"Yes! Yes I will!" Livy hissed, scuttling down the bed and clambering over Nancy's twitching thigh. "Let me show you, Nan, I'll show you!"
"Noo!" she exclaimed, making one last effort to save herself from the onset of erotic enslavement. Then she went rigid, gasping in delight and shock as Livy imitated the first phenomenal initiation Robert had bestowed upon her, burying her face in the valley of her thighs and locking it to her crotch with a shameless, open-mouthed kiss.
Her lips were open like a slippery, wet crater, sucking up the folds of her sex. She felt Livy's tongue slip into the groove of her vulva and wantonly lick the silky slit, an oily minnow slithering up and down her intimate narrows, nipping and nuzzling at the miniature, torrid trigger of her clitoris.
She prayed for forgiveness, melting into a single-minded state of desire, opening her thighs wider, suddenly wanting the hungry mouth to take all of her, to swallow her up the way it had absorbed the black man's exterior organ, to gnaw at the increasing ache centered deep in her body.
Livy's tongue sought her secret newly-mined cuntal hole and she felt a twinge of pain as it snaked in past the ragged perimeter hung with her hymen remnants. Then it was inside her-that delicious feeling of an organ inside her, not bloating and stuffing her as the black prick had, but massaging and masturbating her, thrusting amazingly deep into the hidden resinous passage of her womb, causing her to gasp and moan with longing.
She could hear Livy moaning in return, apparently mouthing her happiness at having genital organs to feed on, the sounds of her own enthusiasm vibrating in her villous vortex. She lifted up her abdomen, grinding her hot hole against her sister's mouth. Lifted up her head, forcing herself to look at the brazen spectacle of her outstretched naked body, her sister's bare back humping between her legs, the mane of thick hair covering the meeting of mouth and cunt.
It did feel good. She couldn't deny it, any more than last night. Even if it was her sister. Even more skillful and sensitive to her special places than Robert's, coaxing unknown responses from her vulva, making her whole body churn and pant in the throes of sexual stupor.
She mustn't think about, mustn't think about what was happening, or why. Just lay back and let her body drain into the expert oral suction surrounding ihe tongue that danced deep in her genital divide like a dervish, whirring inside her until she almost fainted, floating on the rippling waves of erotic abandonment that washed up from the dewy recesses of her palpitating canal. It felt so good, so good, so good to feel her excitement mounting, breaking, rolling over her as she writhed in sheet-clutching, h e a d-wh ip p i n g, incoherent-sounding ecstasy, Wanting it never to end, never to stop, the fantastic fluttering evoked by the flying tongue flitting in her creaming cauldron.
CHAPTER FOUR
The morning felt like a clean slate. The city was new, refreshing and fascinating. For the first several hours. By the time she finished with her sixth interview at an employment agency and had gotten the word that almost nothing was open for a girl with no secretarial or keypunch skills, she was slightly discouraged.
She treated herself to a good, long lunch downtown, envying the gaggles of working girls who trooped in and out, all of them bustling with that busy breathlessness that suggested jobs to get back to, work to accomplish, money to earn to buy more of the fashions and accessories displayed so proudly on their persons. More than once she was tempted to approach one of the girls her age and ask where she might find work, but she chickened out. It seemed the whole world was run by questionnaires, typing tests and personnel directors, to none of which did she have anything to offer.
She spent the afternoon covering four more agencies, reading worn magazines as she waited with hundreds of other, listless applicants, to hear just how superfluous she was in light of the current labor market.
Livy was out when she returned. Grateful for the solitude, she took a long, hot bath, studying her slender supple body beneath the soapsuds, reinterpreting its attractions in the light of all the attention it had drawn, even today, on the street and in the cubicles of employment counselors. Then she went to bed, falling into such a deep, dreamless sleep that she never felt her sister join her, many hours later, Livy's body pressed against hers, the jaded hands exploring her, trying vainly to rouse her, at last leaving her alone as she slept off the thousands of miles, the traumas of arrival and the day's bitter disappointments.
She tried to feel undaunted on the second day. But it was hard now to feel herself any different from the others who flocked to answer the newspaper ads, who milled around waiting for some analyst to review their job potentials, and be told that there was nothing at the moment, no openings just now, to leave their phone numbers in case, you know, something should come up.
In mid-afternoon she plucked her courage up and asked the manager of the restaurant she was snacking in if she could have a try for the waitress job advertised by a sign in the window.
No experience? He raised his eyebrows and with a busy smile brushed her off. Except: was she doing anything later on? Would she like a date? She left, still feeling his eyes boring holes through her dress, lusting for her, advertising his ideas of how she should be employed.
It was discouraging. She really hadn't thought about it before or on the trip out. But in spite of the fact that she had tended her aunt for all those long invalid years, she had no real nursing qualifications. She knew nothing about being a secretary, about filing, about temporary office jobs, or even waitressing, door to door sales, or distributing samples on street corners.
"Drop-outs don't make it!" screamed the black-and-white billboard on the bus she rode home. And she resented that. Hadn't she been in college? Would she have "dropped out" if she hadn't had a bedridden old aunt to take care of. She remembered a story that was popular in high school, that the Morganville schools didn't offer typing on purpose, so that graduates would go to the nearby mill for work, unpreoccupied by any ambitions or ideas of more glamorous or profitable work.
"Gee, that's beautiful!" she enthused over the long silk dressing gown that Livy had on as she opened the door for her.
"Thanks, hon. It's real silk. I picked it up for a hundred and a half, but you can't find kimonos decorated like this for less than two hundred now."
Two hundred dollars, Nancy thought. That's enough to get an apartment, buy new clothes, to really get settled with.
"How'd the job-hunting go?" Livy asked, whipping up a concoction of egg, orange juice and vodka in an elaborate looking blender.
"It didn't," Nancy admitted, slipping her shoes off and joining her sister in the kitchen. She sat down at the table, taking a glass of the mixture her sister offered her. As she drank it down, her attention fell on a hypodermic and little plastic bag of whitish powder sitting on the table.
She looked up at Livy, who realized she had seen the works.
"That's right, honey, your big bad sister's a doper, too." , "Narcotics?" Nancy asked, dumfounded at this new revelation about her city sister.
"That's right."
"But, but I thought, I mean, it isn't good for you, is it?" she asked naively.
"Nothing's good for you, except what keeps you alive and together," Livy said matter-of-factly. "How're you gonna keep yourself alive?"
"I don't know," Nancy shook her head. "I didn't think it would be so hard to find a job."
"Well, you've had a crack at it. Now you better listen to the voice of experience, honey. I did the same thing you're doing. Longer, much longer. Stayed in a cheap bug-ridden flophouse for three weeks, ransacking the city for work, any kind of work, and that was before things got as bad as they are now. But there was nothing for a country girl to do. So I just got into doing what comes naturally. I make as much now as most junior executives, most of it off of them, in fact. Course I blow most of it on my habit, but nobody clocks me in and out!" She grabbed Nancy's wrist and stared at her with clouded, compressed eyes. "I choose my own work, I keep my own hours, I live my own life!"
"Oh, but I couldn't!" Nancy stammered. "I couldn't!"
"Yeah, it seems impossible, doesn't it? Imagine yourself working forty hours a week for a hundred bucks or less after taxes, living in some dump, splurging on one new pair of shoes every other month, living the high live at the movies on Saturday night!"
Nancy stared glumly at the table, absorbed with the sight of the hypodermic and the pouch of drugs. She didn't try to argue with Livy. There was nothing she could say. She had been surprised and then depressed by the fact that even if she were qualified for some available job, the pay was much lower than she had giddily expected when she had set out for the coast.
"I want to work," she stated softly, knowing that it sounded stupid to her sister. It even sounded silly to her.
"Well, I'll tell you what I'll do."
Nancy almost shut her sister off, sure that she was going to suggest some introductory form of selling herself, which was the last thing she wanted to hear.
"You stay here tonight and clean my apartment and I'll pay you, okay?"
"Sure!" Nancy jumped at the offer.
"I mean really clean it up-the place is a mess, I haven't done anything to it in weeks, since before I went to Hawaii."
"Hawaii?" echoed Nancy.
"Yeah, some of my boy friends like me to accompany them on some of their trips. This one flew me out to the islands, put me up in a beach-house, paid all my expenses. It was a good trip-so good I almost kicked, except that it was so easy to score over there."
"What did you have to do?" Nancy asked, forgetting for a moment that she didn't want to tempt herself with any of the details of Livy's profitable, prostituted life.
"I just had to be around when he wanted to screw. He came to see me about four or five times during the two weeks. I cooked dinner for him, had a party for his friends one night. It was wild. That's all."
"And he spent all that money?" Nancy was incredulous.
"He didn't spend it. His company was angling for a contract with the services. He had to spend it to make the connection. He likes me, he trusts me. He could have gotten some flatbacker over there, but I know how to make him happy. We might go to Germany next month."
"Germany?"
"Un-huh. They're going after the NATO business now that they got Vietnam sewn up. Well, you get the place in shape, and that'll be a little bread in your pocket, anyway."
"But-but I owe it to you anyway," Nancy interjected, thinking how grateful she was to have a place to stay while she settled into the city.
"Never mind, honey, I got the money, you got the time, so it's right, I guess."
She sat for a long time, listening to Livy shower and get dressed. When her sister reappeared she was dressed like a fashion plate, gowned in a long blue dress with a furred leather cape hanging from her shoulders.
"You look beautiful, Livy."
"Yeah, well business is business. See you later, hon."
Nancy worked until she was wet with sweat. She turned the apartment upside-down cleaning it, constantly amazed as packets of various drugs, money and strange keys turned up under almost every cushion and pile of trash. Eventually the place started looking like something again, especially after she had vacuumed and waxed the floors and polished most of the glass and silverwork. Whether it was Livy or her customers, someone had good taste, peculiar as it was to find it all assembled here in this undistinguished ghetto apartment house. She remembered what Livy had vowed when she left Morganville, that she would never end up living like those creeps, that she was going to make it or die trying. And apparently she did have it made, but it was the drugs much more than her profession that distressed Nancy and made her realize just how naive and ignorant she was of city ways. Short of the police, she didn't know where or to whom to turn for advice on Livy's addiction and how, as her sister, she could help salvage her from what even the hick kids down in Morganville had learned from the media was a death trip.
The phone rang late in the evening, as she was wearily polishing the furniture and thinking about sleep. She didn't answer it at first, fearful that it might be some of Livy's "business," or worse, someone like Coit. But it jangled insistently and she eventually picked it up.
"Nancy, for God's sakes, I thought you were dead. Is everything all right?"
"Sure, yes." She felt foolish, at a loss to explain why she had let the phone ring so long.
"Listen, honey, be an angel and see if you can whip up some food. I'm coming over in a while with a couple of friends and we're all starved, okay? I hate to do this to you, but-well, I can't explain it now, but we need some privacy, okay?"
Nancy went to the kitchen and searched the pantry, which she found completely stocked with enough food for a full scale restaurant. There was chicken in the refrigerator, along with some berries that were almost past eating. She made up a pie crust and set a pie to baking, and then started the chicken frying. There was a pounding at the door as she finished setting the table in the dining room.
"Thank God, howarya, honey!" Livy burst in, making no secret of the fact that she was bombed. Two men jostled through the door after her-one a stout, fiftyish flat-headed type, the other a rumple-suited, curly-haired youth not much older than Nancy herself.
"Hey! Smells great! You the cook?" the older man winked.
"Nan, this is George, and the other one is Andy. My kid sister."
"Boy, when do we eat!" grinned the younger man, leering at her and rubbing his hands as though he had but one object in mind for his feeding.
"C'mere, I got something for you!" Livy laughed, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward the living room.
"She's got something, too!" George chortled, undressing Nancy with his bleary eyes.
"C'mon!" Livy grabbed him and the three of them shambled into the living room.
"Hey, this is some place!" Nancy heard one of them exclaim as she faded into the kitchen and started setting the meal on the dining table, not seeing what the three were doing in the living room with the small scuba-like tank and the inhalator nozzle. All she heard was a mounting series of giggles and smacking flesh that made her retreat more intently into the job of laying on food.
"Come and get it!" she called.
"Goddamn! George, lookit this, it's a fucking banquet!"
Nancy stared in disbelief as the young man entered the dining room, his jacket and tie missing and his shirt open to the waist. Livy came next, squirming and giggling as the older man clung to her, passionately kissing her shoulder and obviously trying to fish a breast from her clinging gown.
She had never seen three people so dissipated. They were too silly to be merely drunk. None of them seemed to be able to stop giggling and they could hardly sit in the chairs although they wanted the food so badly they didn't wait for it to be served but grabbed at it with their hands.
Nancy smiled with faint amusement at their antics, supplying the table with a fresh supply of napkins and enjoying the alacrity with which they attacked her food.
"This is fabulous! Fabulous!" Andy gushed, holding a piece of chicken in each hand.
"Really good, honey, you're an angel!" Livy gulped.
"Come on and sit down and tell me your secret!" giggled the older man, nearly falling off his chair as he grabbed for her.
Nancy declined the invitation and returned to the kitchen. The three of them were like boisterous children, amusing enough so that she didn't really mind the squalor they were creating on the table with spilled food and drink.
When she came back in, bearing the hot pie for dessert, Livy's gown was off her shoulders, the top of it hanging from one nipple, her other breast fully exposed and streaked with chicken drippings.
"Know what I want?" Andy proclaimed, and he ran the end of a drumstick in and out of his mouth in obscene imitation of the act that had made Nancy blanch two days ago.
"Yeah?" Livy whooped. She struggled up out of her chair and sat on the back of it, spreading her knees and pulling up the folds of her gown with greasy fingers.
Nancy was shocked to see that she was wearing no underwear beneath the expensive dress, and even more disturbed when, by opening her thighs, she revealed her tufted vulva to the two salacious men.
Her sister picked up a dripping drumstick from the platter and leering at the two men, inserted it between her legs, actually pushing it into her vagina and revolving it like a dildo as Nancy stared at her in shame and anger.
"Put it in! Put it all the way in!" George shouted, both men beating on the table with their fists and leaning forward to get a better view of Livy's sex organs.
"I can't!" she laughed crazily. "It'll pull the meat off!"
They whooped with hysterical amusement.
"It won't pull my meat off!" Andy shouted, jumping out of his chair and beginning to undo his trousers as Nancy shrank, speechless, against the wall.
"No you don't! Remember your fucking manners and let an old man go first!" George pushed him back. He picked Livy up by the waist as she shrieked with laughter and set her down on the table, sweeping away the food and utensils with a reckless shove of his arm.
"Can't you wait for dessert?" she gasped, picking up her skirts and shaking them at him like a red flat to a bull, "I got my dessert!" he trumpeted, dropping his pants and seizing his lumpy red prick. He charged her as she lay with her buttocks draped over the table edge. She screamed with delight and flung her legs up in the air, swinging them open to welcome his thrust as he toppled over her.
"Hey! There is dessert!" Andy noticed. He grabbed the pie which Nancy desperately pushed toward him, and holding it in one hand as he scooped up gobs of it in the other, he leaned over the couple writhing toward sexual union on the table.
"It's going in, I can feel it going in!" Livy cried, squirming underneath the older man with expert motions of her hips that trapped his rising passion in her finger-licking, dripping divide.
"Yeh, oh, yeh, yeh! Give me some of that!" Andy held out the pie and his copulating colleague dug out a handful of it, shoveling it into his face and dropping pieces of it on Livy who snapped at it like a jumping fish for a fly.
Nancy faded into the kitchen. She wanted to escape out the back door, to leave the apartment until this unexpected minor orgy had passed. Here she had thoughtfully gotten a good meal together for what Livy had implied were starving or troubled friends and the three of them ended up debauching themselves in her supper, playing like pigs in shit, dirtying themselves and everything around them and wasting food besides!
She started some coffee, hoping it would all blow over soon and she could get to bed without being tormented by this carnival in the other room.
But after a while she noticed that an eerie silence had come over the apartment, except for strange gasping noises and wooden thumpings that sounded like someone was being strangled or beaten to death.
She peeked around the doorway into the dining room, astounded at the sight that met her eyes. Livy was naked, bent over the table, being screwed from behind by the older man who jumped up and down as he held her undulating body by the waist, beating her buttocks with his fat belly and rutting like a dog in the recesses of her soiled body.
The younger man was actually seated in the middle of the table, his legs outstretched, one of his feet tipping a plate of half-eaten food onto the tabletop. Livy was between his thighs, her head moving up and down as she pumped the curving, upright piston of his hardened lust with her mouth in lewd repetition of the act that had previously scandalized Nancy.
But it didn't look like she was enjoying it this time. She seemed to be suffering, to be working to satisfy them both with each end of her body. The young man was pushing her head down cruelly and Nancy realized she was squirming not because of the man who had mounted her from behind but because she was gagging on the long inflexible prick that was being stuffed into her straining mouth.
For the fourth time since she had arrived at her sister's, Nancy felt utterly lost, helpless to know what to do in the situation at hand, absolutely unequipped to change things as they were revealed to her incredulous eyes.
As if sensing her presence, Livy turned her head on the stake of the phallus that impaled her face and Nancy recognized at once the pain clouding her eyes-a dumb expression of inhuman suffering like that of an animal hit by a car. But what was she supposed to do?
"Hot shit, there she is!" whooped Andy, scrambling back on the table like a crab and separating his livid joint from the naked girl's gasping mouth.
"God, I thought he was going to tear my throat out!" Livy panted to no one in particular.
"Hey-hey-hey! Comere sis!" Andy jumped off the table and sprinted around the room toward Nancy. She yelped with fright and bolted into the living room.
"Come on now, you can't get away from Spiderlegs, fastest man on the all-state relay squad!"
"Noooo!" Nancy protested, feinting back and forth behind the sofa as he grabbed for her like a madman.
"Hey-hey! Come on, little bunny, here we go, herrrre-gotcha!"
"No!" she yelled, lashing out with her free hand as he pulled her over the back of the sofa.
"Yes! Yes!" he cried, catching her snaking arm and forcefully pinning her hands over her head as he uncoiled his body on top of hers.
"No! Don't! Stop it!" she raged, trying to avoid the mealy kisses he was raining on her face, working to get a knee up between his legs, to drive it into his crotch where his stiff penis pressed down on her like a sharp bone.
"There you go, come on, fight me, fight me!" he panted, wrestling her to a standstill, all his weight on top of her so she could hardly breathe.
That was what he wanted, she thought despairingly. He was like the others, they were all the same, they wanted resistance, there was something about her that made men want to rape her, something she didn't know about, didn't deserve, couldn't pin down, but here she was, obviously increasing her assailant's enthusiasm with her blind physical protest. ;
She stopped resisting, going limp, hoping he would become disgusted with the assault and leave her alone, rejoin his older friend and abuse her sister who, after all, brought it on herself.
"That's better! Here we go!" he grinned.
Before she knew what was happening he had grabbed the underside of her legs and bent them up over her body, holding her feet so that they wiggled above her head. She felt the breath crushed from her body as her pretzelled form sank into the sofa cushions. Then she felt his hand between her taut thighs.
"No!" she cried.
But he was laughing like a satyr, pulling her panties from her curving buttocks, working them up around her thighs, baring her elongated hairy gorge.
She whimpered, hardly able to breathe as he pinned her in the doubled-up position. His other hand shot down between his legs. She felt the rubbery bulb of his bloated phallus skid up and down above her tush, wedging its way into the sofa rift between her labial petals.
A cold fear spread through her, in spite of the heat produced by the vain exertions of her scrunched-up body struggling to escape the unavoidable shock of a new stranger's entry.
"Yaaaah!" she wailed, feeling the head of his moist prick jammed against her inner tear-shaped vaginal opening.
"Yeeeehoooo!" Andy whooped. His naked body formed a right angle above her, his feet digging into one end of the sofa, his arms holding her feet down to either side of her head at the other. He gave a ferocious thrust, ramming his cockhead through the tiny resisting ring of her twat.
Nancy felt her vaginal narrows part with the force of his lunge. She clenched the muscles of her lower body but was powerless to prevent his rigid shaft from sinking in the buttery well of her perforated pubic entrance. The tapered shank wedged her open, rubbing the sensitive framing tissue with the corded column of his cock until he was deep inside her, stretching her womb until she thought it would rip.
She groaned beneath the reality of his pulsing prickhead sunk deep in her belly, so far inside her it felt like a ramrod scraping against her vertebrae. It seemed to fill her entirely, like a great hook that her collapsed form could only squiggle on ineffectually. He was far deeper in her than the black had been during the first assault. She couldn't believe her little womb had swallowed all of him, strained as it was in the grasp of his throbbing organ.
"How does that feel, huh?" he grunted jovially, leering down at her between her own legs.
"Plllease! You're hurting me!" she gasped.
"Yeah?" he taunted her, mashing his loins even tighter over her exposed backside, his balls rolling in the gaping gulch of her anal crevice. The movement wedged his groin right up against her distorted flanges, while the tip of his prick dug within her like a knife-point under her heart.
"O w ww w-o wwww! " she whimpered, determined not to feed his cruel appetite but scarcely able to bear the lancing pain his impalement of her young body produced.
"Okay now, easy, easy," he relented, withdrawing his cock by slow degrees. She felt her womb shrinking around its retreating mass, collapsing like a deflated balloon. The ball of his penis rubbed against her squeezing lips and then popped out of the hole.
But he had no intention of quitting her cunt. He let his prickbead loll in the buttery trap of her twat and swiveled his athletic hips so that it rolled round and round, rotating in the opening of her contorted quim with a delicious friction.
She fought to resist the lascivious sensations that coursed through her as he nuzzled her pudenda portals with the resilient dome of his organ, making a ball-and-socket joint of his passion and her defenseless divide. It was almost like a tongue, an insane pressure, slickly, sensuously gouging the well of her womb entrance.
She began panting, her body shuddering, unable to rid herself of the erotic ardor his prick flushed from the folds of her fissure. Even the mental image of what he was doing, that should have shocked her no less than the actual witness of her first rape, set her mind burning with a dark and shameful excitement.
She couldn't stand it. It was like a fire at her hole, the inexorable mashing movements of his phallic bulb in the melting mush of her pubic maw. It stretched her whole body on a tightrope, balancing her crazily on a fine wire of high-pitched passionate readiness that ran from the base of her brain to the junction of the genital hole his cock was swabbing like a hot dog in a jelly-filled doughnut. It drove her out of her mind. It was torture, worse than the initial pain of forced intercourse, more intense than the drowning release of orgasmic pleasure.
"Plllease! Oh, pllleeease!" she groaned, staring up into his confident lecherous face with a glazed animal look of pained expectancy.
"You want it, please?" he mocked her. "Want my prick back inside you? I could come just like this! Just feeling your cunt hole nip at me!"
"Oh, yes, please!" she gasped. She didn't care what he heard her say, so long as he removed it or put it in-whatever would stop the unbearable burning sensation his cockhead made as it danced in the shallow, hair-rimmed trough of her twat.
"Yes? Is it yes, please?"
"Yes, oh, God, yes, give it to me, please! Please make it go in, pllleeease, I can't bear it, it's burning me, oh, God, it's burning me up!"
"Ahhhh!" he grinned, lowering his body, letting the infuriated suction of her seething cunt pull him in, his cock easily slipping into her small passage now, eagerly swallowed by her gulping, gasping vagina.
"Ohhhh-oh-oh-oh-ohhhh!" Nancy cried, sobbing with relief as the bulk of his bullying lust ballooned inside her once more. It had never occurred to her before that she'd actually want a man's thing, actually beg a man to fill her body with his rockhard manhood. But that's what had happened and it felt so divine she forgot that it was tantamount to her second rape. All she knew was that he was backing off, letting her legs come down, letting her catch his hips with her calves, lock her ankles around his body, brake him as he began to move over her, sending his curving cock rippling in and out of the elastic clasp of her femininity.
"Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" she sighed, drawing deep, fresh breaths of musky air each time his penis retreated to the point where her tight hole gripped its ridge.
"Yeeeeah! Feels so good, doesn't it?" he encouraged her.
"Oh, yessss!" Nancy hissed, biting her lip for the undeniable joy that flowed around his steady pistoning.
"You're so tight!" he marveled. "Your twat's so tight around my joint!"
"Yessss! Yessss!" she agreed mindlessly, hardly caring what he felt, conscious only of her own deep satisfaction now that he was running the slippery length of his cock in and out of the sucking cylinder of her womb.
"So tight, so fucking tight!" he cursed ecstatically, starting to move up and down with powerful strokes of lust.
"Yesss! Uuuuh! Yuuuuh!" she gurgled in abandon as her body bounced beneath his rutting rhythm, sinking down into the soft sofa and springing up with an angling grasp on his sliding staff that made her squirm deliriously.
"Oh, fuck! Ohhhh! Goddamn! Ohhhh, it's squeezing me! Your cunt is squeezing me! Squeezing my cock! Ohhh-ohhhh!" he chanted, stiff-armed above her as his belly bucked frantically, spiraling the horn of his passion into her vacuum-like vortex.
"Yuuuuh! Uunh! Uunh! Yuunh!" Nancy grunted, tossing her tufted triangle up against his loins, filled with a new and startling fear that he might come, that she would be cheated of the climax she could feel tightening around his thrusting cock.
"Ohhhh-oh! Oh-aanh!" he cried, choking with sexual satiation.
"Uunh! Yuunh!" she pleaded incoherently, jerking her body in two strokes for every one of his lunges, frantically working to pull the sheath of satisfaction from his stiffened staff into her clamoring cuntal well.
"Ohhhh! Ohhhh!" he began to sob convulsively.
Nancy knew he was almost there, in spite of the fact that he was only the second man to ever couple with her. His anguished face and the desperate tone of his voice warned her of the approaching moment. Flinging away the last vestiges of modesty and self-respect, she threw her arms around his neck and arched her back, scouring her breasts up against his chest and jerking down maniacally with her cunt.
The added contact snapped the string of release inside her. Her womb began to pulse so violently that she felt snatched up in the grip of some indefinable force.
"It's sucking me! Oh, it's sucking me!" he wailed like a child.
"Ohhhh! OHHHH! OHHHH-HOOOO!" she cried out, dangling from his flexing phallus, her entire body running with a rainbow-colored fire.
"OHHHH! I'M COMING! I'M COMING IN YOUR SUCKING CUNT!" he screamed hysterically, collapsing on top of her, hunching over her abdomen.
"OHHHH! OHHHH!" she rejoiced. His penis seemed to swell inside her. She felt it distinctly recoil even as she wallowed in the luminescent hold of her climax. She seemed to be looking down inside herself, confronting the single red eye in the head of his prick as it dilated, winked, opened wide and shot a scalding stream of foaming come up against her sizzling cervix.
"OOOOAAAAHHHH!" Nancy screamed. Forgetting he was a stranger, his cruel attack, she embraced him with her arms and legs, quivering close to his body, believing that her womb was sucking the seed from his leaping, jerking penis, sobbing frenetically as his weight mashed her breasts flat, his feet pummeled the sofa, beating out the rhythm of his climax, sending her enraptured being wafting up and down like a bird balanced on the steaming geyser of his spurting lust, riddled with its molten force, clasping him to her as her orgasm and his drained away simultaneously, leaving them both limp and silently exhausted.
CHAPTER FIVE
She didn't feel him go, didn't hear the two of them leave the apartment, was already fast asleep, dreaming a tortured dream of guilty sex, when her sister draped a blanket over her and retired for the night.
It was hard to believe it had happened at all when she woke the next morning. She almost convinced herself that she had dreamed it all, until, in the shower, her fingers found the crusted goop of his seed on her genitals, and she recalled with shame how much she had enjoyed it, how good it had felt when, in the middle of her own climax, his member had exploded with the passion load whose traces she was washing from her body.
"Morning, hon!" Livy was fixing breakfast when she came into the kitchen, clean and shiny, almost successfully rid of the memories of her second bout with real sex.
"Morning," Nancy replied shyly, wishing in a way that her sister wasn't there, that she didn't have to be reminded of the sinful condition she was staying in and had been subjected to.
"You did a groovy job on the pad," Livy commented as they finished breakfast. "Sorry about the mess we made last night. Those guys are out of their skulls. Anyway, here's for cleaning up and all."
"Oh, all right, thanks," Nancy said, accepting the ten-dollar bill Livy handed her. "And here's your share."
"Wha??? What's this?" Nancy gulped, looking at the crisp green bill her sister laid on top of the ten. It was fifty. She had only seen one once, in the bank at Morganville.
"Your share of what they left. I split it fifty-fifty, okay?"
"You mean ... those men last night?" Nancy looked at the money again, as though it had turned into a live green salamander before her eyes. Money they had left? Money for what she had done-for what had been forced on her!
"No, I don't want it!" she blurted, pushing the bill away.
"Listen to me, goddamnit!" Livy raged in sudden response, picking up the fifty and shaking it in her younger sister's face. "You earned it. It's yours! You need it! I don't run a welfare agency here. I didn't make you screw him, but we saw how you went at it. Pretty damn good for a virgin!"
"Livy!"
"Don't try to jive me! I saw you, going at it like a slut!"
"Nooo!" Nancy covered her ears with her hands.
"And you try and pull that virgin crap on Coit. Man, I knew you were bullshitting!"
"It's true! IT'S TRUE!" she screamed, making the kitchen ring, furious enough at her sister to leap at her for the first time in many years.
"Yeah?" Livy challenged her with a sneer.
"Yes! I never slept with any one. He raped me. Go to hell if you don't believe me, and take your f-fucking money!" she cursed, surprised at the vehemence of her own language.
"Okay, okay!" Livy said placatingly, her expression of contempt softening to belief, convinced by the younger girl's hysterical outrage. "But listen," she added quietly, "this is your fifty bucks. You earned it." She paused, letting the statement sink in.
"I didn't want to," Nancy said, shaking her head sorrowfully, wishing she'd never left home, that she was still back in Morganville and had never been exposed to any of these things that had crashed in on her during the last few days.
"Maybe not. But you were balling him to beat the band. You dug it, you can't tell me you didn't, didn't you!"
Nancy stared at her sister. "I don't know," she mumbled. "It was all so, so unexpected."
"Maybe so, but you enjoyed it in the end ... right?"
"I guess so."
"Well, don't feel bad about it. I'd give anything to get my rocks off with a man, without having to fake it. That's the trouble with hooking-you lose track of what's you and what you get in the habit of putting out for the trick."
"I couldn't help it," Nancy recalled. "It hurt, and then I wanted him to stop, but it got so ... I don't know, I couldn't help myself."
"Yeah, well Andy's something else. You're lucky I let you have him, instead of that fat slob of a partner he hangs out with."
"You arranged it?" Nancy was incredulous once more, sick at the thought that her sister had betrayed her into compromise.
"No, I didn't arrange it. Did it look like it! But the old fart wanted to get at you, too, only I held him off!"
"God, dear God!" Nancy shuddered.
"Anyway, honey, it just worked out that way. I'm sorry, but at least you have the money. Don't blame me. I didn't mean for it to happen like it did!"
Nancy stared at her sister. She forgot her self-pity as she looked into the puffy white face that had once been so striking, much more beautiful than her own when Livy was her age. But already looking washed-out, haggard under the cosmetics, anemic and unwell. Nancy felt sorry for her, and though she couldn't tell why, convinced that she was burning herself out. Livy looked the way some of those stars did in TV close-ups, and it made her shudder with foreboding.
"Nan?" Livy was up out of her chair, standing by her side, resting her hand on Nancy's shoulder with a squeeze that was more than affectionate.
"Come to bed, honey," Livy said hoarsely, looking down at her sister with clouded eyes.
"I-I don't think I can." Nancy didn't want to hurt her sister's feelings, but she felt desperately in need of hanging on to some standards, some principles of reality, so she could sort out all the rest of the confusion. She could feel Livy's warmth, her nearness, the softness of her body as her shoulder was brushed by the other's thigh, showing sensuous skin under the bathrobe flap. But she couldn't handle it, not so much because of the incest as the threat she felt more than ever about submitting to physical situations.
"Yeah, okay," Livy grimaced, swishing out of the kitchen.
Nancy dressed hurriedly and realized when she was ready to go out that her sister must be back in the kitchen.
"Livy? Livy! My God, what are you doing?" Nancy hung in a sag of horror from the door. Her sister had her bathrobe up across her thighs. She was bending over, holding a hypodermic syringe, and the needle was plunged into her inner thigh.
Livy lifted her head with a weary expression and Nancy instantly recognized that she must be going under the influence of whatever was being injected into the vein that stood out under the skin below the tourniquet of the bathrobe sash.
"What's wrong, hon?" her sister finally said.
"What are you doing?" Nancy repeated breathlessly.
"Nothing, hon, nothing. Little morning shot is all. You splitting?"
"I'm going out to look for a job again. Oh, please, Livy, don't do it, plllease!!!! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Nan," she answered, oddly hooking her head to one side as her fingers slowly drove the plunger home in the syringe. "You oughta have a fix yourself, smooth your head out some, want to try?"
She pulled the needle from her thigh, rubbed the tiny wound and held the hypodermic in the air, gesturing to Nancy.
"No, no, good-bye, I'll see you later!" she whispered, backing out of the kitchen, then spinning on her heel and running from the apartment, down the stairs, out into the sweet air, trying to clear her head of all the jumbled nightmare visions it had absorbed through contact with her sister's life.
She knew she had to get out, had to get her own place, had to get a job, that the longer she stayed with Livy, the harder it would be to hang onto her resistance and her sanity. To make an independent life and set about salvaging her sister from the abyss into which she had sunk.
CHAPTER SIX
There was nothing in the want ads for which she was remotely qualified, she concluded over coffee, except for the tempting box that solicited go-go dancers. She had ignored it over and over again, but she studied it now, daydreaming about the two hundred dollars a week it promised.
She knew it couldn't be respectable work, but the more she thought about it, the less forbidding it seemed, especially in light of the past couple of days' disappointments and the trauma of last night.
After all, she told herself, she wasn't a virgin any more! Several days ago she had been an innocent. But bad luck or not, no matter how she rued the circumstances that had robbed her of her long-guarded chastity, she was grown-up in a sense. Her real proof of purity had been taken from her and she had to adjust to that fact. She wasn't the kid she had been.
In two or three weeks, she could make enough money to get a place of her own and be able to afford a long wait for a real job. She decided it was worth it, even if it did mean dancing for men.
She broke the fifty at a department store and had herself fitted for a shoulder-length dark brunette wig that slipped easily over her short hair. She wasn't sure why she was spending the money, but it gave her a measure of confidence to know that she didn't entirely resemble herself.
The address in the advertisement took her to a garish street of neon-lit nightclubs and she saw instantly from the billboards outside the clubs that go-go dancing meant topless dancing.
She walked up and down the street, nervously wondering whether she had the nerve to apply for such work and whether, like the girls pictured on the billboards, she was capable of dancing bare-breasted.
She finally decided. Two different men had stripped her naked and screwed her, had seen her body and abused it besides. Did that make her a whore like Livy? Did dancing topless make these girls whores? Wouldn't it be worth it, just for a couple of weeks, for more money than she could make in a month at the phone company or in a restaurant, at some job she wouldn't have wanted in the first place and would be forced to stay at until she lost the desire to keep looking for better work?
She brushed the hair out of her face, forgetting that it was a wig and not her own, previously long tresses. She took a deep breath and walked through the red curtain, past the barker dressed in a gangster-style zoot suit, into the club.
The music was deafening. She stepped to one side, avoiding the miniskirted waitress who headed toward her on high spike heels. Her mouth almost gaped open as she peered through the darkness at the two naked girls, one onstage dancing slowly in front of the small rock band, the other chugging away on the bar! That blew her mind-a naked girl dancing on the bar, completely exposed to the men on the stools who looked up at her with hypnotic stares.
Weren't there laws about this kind of thing? Nancy wondered. Could it be legal? Was this what the ad was for? And, if so, could she stomach it? Did she have the nerve to put herself on display like that, like a model with no clothes, naked as a slave on an auction block?
Yet the girls didn't seem to mind. They danced as if in trances, paying no attention to the men who drank, occasionally joked or gazed at their nude bodies. It was certainly more decorous than a strip-tease, Nancy concluded. But what did the men get out of it? Wasn't it dull for them to watch the mechanically moving naked dolls? And how about the dancers? They looked like their minds were a million miles away, like they couldn't care less about swinging their boobs in strangers' faces. Maybe it wasn't so bad. If she could stand the initial embarrassment.
She told the girl she had come for a job and was led through the narrow aisles between tables, all the men studying her as if in expectation that she would disrobe and appear with the other girls. They were certainly a clean-looking crowd-mostly businessmen, with a few truckdriver types. Nancy couldn't fathom the set-up. It all seemed so dull.
"Frank'll be here in a bit," the waitress told her, closing the office door.
Nancy looked around, studying the photographs that lined the red-papered walls, noting with dismay that most of the naked bodies pictured had enormous breasts, big as the fat lady's in the carnival that came to Morganville during late summer. That would count her out right there, she thought, bitter at the thought that her lovely figure might constitute a disqualification for this kind of work. Now that she had come this far, into the lion's den so to speak, she suddenly really wanted the job, almost tasting the money promised in the ad.
"So?" It was the man who had been outside, the barker, dressed like a mobster out of a Prohibition movie.
"You're . .'.?"
"I'm Frank!" he announced, chewing a cigar, and seating himself on the big wooden desk. "You twenty-one?"
Nancy nodded.
"Ever been busted ... arrested?"
She shook her head.
"Got any kids?"
Another shake.
"U.S. citizen?"
Another nod.
"Got a bod sheet? Body pix?"
"No," she faltered.
"Well, I guess you better take 'em off."
She stared at him. He stared back, at a loss to understand why she didn't start.
"C'mon, sweetheart, I haven't got all the time in the world. Your duds. Take 'em off. Let's see what you got!"
"R-right here???"
"Sure, right here! Where else? Think I'm gonna put you up on stage sight unseen? I don't even know what sex you are! Take off that crummy wig!"
Nancy snatched if off, flushing crimson in embarrassment that he had spotted it so quickly. But she didn't know where to begin. Somehow she hadn't thought of the possibility of undressing for a stranger. It was one thing to have your clothes ripped off in rape. Or to be naked before a whole roomful of men like the dancers outside. But to strip for him, all alone! She wanted out. Her mouth was dry. She couldn't make her legs move to leave. He looked at his watch and began to throw his hands up in disgust.
Come on, she told herself, thinking about the two hundred dollars. Livy's remarks came back to her: virgin! She wasn't. He must see lots of nude women. So what! Take them off, she commanded herself.
She set her purse down and began unbuttoning her coat.
"Good girl! Let's go," he smiled, rubbing his hands together and blowing a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling.
She got out of her coat and turned sideways so she wouldn't have to look at him looking at her. Trembling with unnamed anxieties, she crossed her arms, grabbed her sweater and slowly pulled it up over her head, feeling the air wash coolly around her bare midriff. Staring at the wall she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, rolling it off her shoulders and down her arms.
"Pretty! Nice!" he commented. "Keep going!"
She turned a deeper shade of scarlet and fumbled with the hook at the side of her skirt. She couldn't get it undone at first. Her breasts wobbled with her exertions, the nipples tightening as they jutted out nakedly into the air. At last she freed it, rasped the zipper open and bent over, stepping out of the skirt and laying it on a chair with her other clothes.
She hooked her thumbs in her pantyhose and rolled them down off her body, sliding the filmy stockings down one leg at a time until she was naked except for her panties. She took a deep breath and slid them down over her pubic triangle, peeling the flimsy garment from the pert globes of her buttocks. She stepped out of them and she was naked, completely exposed to his smoke-wreathed eyes.
He studied her for a minute, rolling his eyes up and down her body like cold marbles as she stood in awkward nakedness. She felt like a piece of meat on a hook, a commodity up for inspection by a picky buyer. She couldn't stop blushing.
He reached over on the desk and punched a tape machine. Rock music instantly filled the office, booming away in a heavy enveloping sound that drowned the throbbing pulse drifting in from the band on stage.
His eyes widened in surprise when he looked back at her and found her still standing like a statue.
"Dance, for Chrissakes!" he exclaimed, waving his arms in exasperation.
She wasn't ready for that, either. It only occurred to her at this moment that, except for jitterbugging at high school dances, and tripping around her aunt's house to the radio, she just didn't dance.
She began pushing her hips back and forth, stepping in place, chugging her elbows in imitation of the dancers she had seen briefly.
"Christ!" she heard him curse in a contemptuous voice.
He got off the desk and walked to the wall. There was a high-pitched squeaking of casters as he turned an upright panel around. It was a full-length mirror. He pushed it out into the room, directly in front of her, confronting her with her own clumsy jerking motions. He stood behind her, puffing out clouds of smoke, watching over her shoulder as she danced in front of the mirror, trying to make her body relax and move to the music with its natural grace.
"How much do you think that's worth?" he sneered.
"I-I don't know," she stammered, feeling ridiculous. Normally she was proud, not to mention possessive, of her body, but this exhibition made her feel like a retarded spastic.
"Zeeero!" he stated. "Zilch! You couldn't pay me to let you dance in this club, and that goes for all the other joints on the strip! We want dancers, not cigar store Indians!"
"I-I'm sorry," Nancy stuttered, coming to a stop and self-consciously reaching for her clothes, wanting to get out before she died of shame at having made such an ass of herself.
"Hey! Nothing to be sorry about. Can't dance? Maybe you got other talents!" He rolled the mirror away, turning it to the wall, then quickly stepped between her and the chair her clothes were heaped on.
Before he had made another move, Nancy had that sinking feeling in her stomach-that reaction to male horniness which was becoming an instinct with her. But he did make another move, specifically to reach down and unzip his fly.
"Maybe we can work something out. One of the girls could give you some dancing lessons. It ain't hard to learn, if you want to play the game!"
She glared at him, speechless, recoiling as he reached into his pants and pulled forth his flaccid member, holding it in his hand as if for her inspection.
"You really turn me on, you know that? You got a good body. I could use you around here-with a little training!" His voice was sinister, thick with devious purpose and even as he spoke, the discolored root in his hand began to flex and swell with a lustful lengthening rhythm.
She didn't know what to do or say. It was inconceivable that he could be serious, that she could be so brazenly propositioned-until she remembered where she was. She cringed nakedly from the sight of the man stroking his penis with his own hand, coaxing it as it rose up angry and red in a fearsome, purposeful erection.
"Let me go!" she gasped.
"Who's holding you?" he laughed, thrusting out his abdomen so that his phallus seemed to leap out of his hand in her direction.
"Give me my clothes!"
"Not so fast! We ain't done with business. Don't act so snotty. I can tell you want it, and I want to give it to you!"
"No!" she retorted in shamed amazement at his imputations.
"Aw, come on!" His voice changed to a wheedling tone as he continued to stroke his livid penis with his fist, pulling the skin back until the single slit eye in the middle of the swollen purple head winked obscenely at her.
"Give me my clothes!" she yelled, trying to frighten him away by raising her voice.
He threw his head back and laughed, his hand quickening its jerking motion on the ruddy shaft wrapped in his fingers.
She lunged for the chair. He stepped in front of her, poking his thing at her, almost touching her with its deformed, dome-like knob.
"Give me my clothes!" she repeated, and, when he didn't move, trying to bluff her out of her desperation, she raised her voice to a piercing scream that made pedestrians on the street stop and look around: "GIVE MEEEE MY CLOOOOTHES!"
She ducked around him and grabbed her belongings, flinching even though he made no move to stop her. But when she had them in her arms, ashen with fright and fury, he advanced on her, jerking on his phallus and holding the burning cigar out in explicit incendiary threat.
She backed up and hit the door, then turned in a panic and bolted through it, running pell-mell to the end of the hall before she drew up, remembering that she was naked. Several men at rear tables spotted her and raised their eyebrows in anticipation of the new act, trying to see her bare breasts over the heap of clothes she held in front of her.
She looked wildly around and then smashed through the flimsy door marked Ladies. Shaking with fear and anger, she dressed herself, pulling on her panties and skirt and sweater, stuffing her bra and pantyhose into her purse, jumping into her shoes and then, with her coat thrown hastily over her shoulders, emerging, half-expecting to see him again, waiting for her.
She pushed between the tables, hardly noticing the interested hand that copped a feel between her legs. She ran in front of the stage, unnoticed by the robot-like dancers, nearly collided with two of the miniskirted waitresses, blasted through the curtain at the entrance and burst into the street, gasping for air as if she had just escaped suffocation, silently sobbing until she was more than a block away and slowed to a walk, gradually bringing her emotions under control.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Livy was out when Nancy returned home, convinced that she'd never find a job unless she sold her soul. Shaken and tired, she cooked herself supper, read the evening paper's classified section, and settled down to watch some television.
About mid-evening the phone rang. She picked it up without thinking, her mind focused on the TV.
"Hi! Anybody else there with you?" asked a male voice.
"No," she answered, puzzled at the question. She wondered for a second if it was Coit calling, but the voice sounded white.
"Great! I'm just around the corner. Be right up!" The phone clicked, leaving Nancy staring at the receiver and slowly realizing that whoever it was, he was on his way.
The call had caught her completely off guard. She had become so relaxed that not even Livy's appearance would have disturbed her. But this was something else. Or maybe just a prank call, she considered.
It seemed like just a minute later that there was a pounding at the door. Nancy approached it cautiously, flustered and a little frightened. "Who is it?" she called.
There was silence, then a renewed pounding.
She had been so hoping it would be Livy, but that was clearly not the case. She doubted if Livy were strong enough in her wasted condition to hammer like that.
"Livy's not here!" she called out nervously, praying that whoever it was would go away.
"Open up, then! In the name of the law, open up!" shouted a male voice.
Stricken with panic, not thinking at all, she fumbled with the set of locks. The door flew open, nearly hitting her in the face. A florid-looking man of about forty strode into the hall carrying a huge package of green tissue.
He looked around, then walked into the living room and made a circuit of the flat, coming back into the hall where Nancy stood by the still-open door, hoping he would orbit right out the way he came.
He pushed the door shut and finally seemed to notice her, thrusting his flushed face into hers and ogling her blinking eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked, taking the words out of her mouth.
"Livy's sister," Nancy replied, intimidated by his aggressive manner and deciding that this must be another of her sister's customers.
"Henry!" he declared. "Call me Hank! If you're her sister, I guess these are good enough for you!"
He thrust the package at her. Instantly she smelled roses-the heavy, natural perfume of roses. Her heart gave a little jump, despite the fact that they hadn't been intended for her.
"I didn't know Livy had a sister. She leave you here to take her calls?" he asked her as she filled a vase with water and started arranging the beautiful big flowers.
"I don't know where she is," Nancy volunteered. She watched him as he stripped off his coat and scarf and jacket and loosened his tie. He was really an elegant-looking man-really wealthy-looking, she thought. She wondered if he was the one who had flown Livy to Hawaii. Or whether she accommodated other men who were in the habit of arriving with flowers for "tricks", as she called them.
"You're even prettier than Livy is," Hank said. "Want a drink?"
"Thanks ... no, no thanks." He was evidently accustomed to the place, finding everything he needed for his drink as they moved into the living room where Nancy set the magnificent roses on the television.
"You, uh, in the same line of work as your sister?" he smiled, stirring the drink with his finger and sucking it dry.
"No," Nancy blushed. He said it as if there was nothing unusual about it-as if Livy were a nurse, or decorator, or reporter.
"Too bad, too bad," he shook his head. "She hasn't got a patch on you. Ever tried it?" he inquired, settling into the broad easy chair and kicking off his expensive-looking shoes.
"No," Nancy blushed again, not knowing what to do and finally seating herself on the sofa.
"Ah! That looks much more comfortable. I love this old sofa-no, no, don't leave, I'm not going to attack you!" He pulled her down next to him as he changed over to the sofa. He hooked a footstool over and put his stockinged feet up. They sat for several minutes, watching the silent television screen. Nancy felt an uneasy itching all over, the kind she got just before she saw an interviewer at one of the agencies.
"When's Livy getting back?" he asked.
"I don't know," Nancy responded. She felt absurdly uncomfortable. It was clear what he had come for, but he seemed to make it clear that he would wait for her sister. Nevertheless, she felt strange sitting next to a man who obviously had sex on his mind-paying sex-with her sister. It was like sitting next to a ticking bomb.
"I'm worried about her," he confided, after another excruciating silence. "The kid knocks herself out. She doesn't have to work so hard. She could afford all this," he indicated the apartment with a sweeping motion of his glass, "seeing half the men she does. Trouble is," he winked at Nancy, "she can never turn a good man down, know what I mean?"
"I guess so," Nancy replied.
"I mean, I've seen them come and go. There was this girl in St. Louis about her age. She had this suite where I used to...."
Nancy stopped listening as he rattled on. Her mind was turning over, trying to figure out the sense in it all. That a man like this, married, she concluded, by the white band of skin around his left ring finger, could patronize her sister as casually as he might get a haircut. He was obviously a success, judging by his clothes and his habits. Was it just the sex he came to Livy for? Or something more-companionship maybe? An outlet for his vanity? Someone to buy flowers for?
She curled up sideways on the couch as he got himself a refill and continued to study him as he talked, watching his flourishes and expressions, thinking that if she did know the right skills, she might very likely have gotten a job as secretary to someone like him.
Suppose she had, and someone like him was her boss? And he treated her as he apparently did Livy, with flowers and manners and good humor? And suppose she also knew his wife, and children and his ... whore? Would she keep it a secret from his wife-his secret sex life? Could she respect him, knowing he bought sex from someone like her sister? For that matter, did she have any respect left for Livy? Or just pity? And what on earth could she do to change any of it? It was all so confusing. The world was a giant riddle, growing more complicated with every hour that the simple existence in Morganville faded into her memory. Maybe Livy was right-maybe it was a mistake to have any preconceived notions about wrong or right. Maybe she should take what she could, like this afternoon, and see how far she could get. But that man, in his awful gangster outfit! And yet the man sitting next to her looked little different from the customers in the place, the men who sat around and watched the naked girls wiggling their boobs and fannies...." afraid of me?"
What was he saying? She was behind. He was looking at her with a fond sort of smile as she took the cobwebs from her mind. "Are you?"
"What?" she asked, trying to cover up her inattention with a smile.-"Are you afraid of me?"
"No," she answered with a half-laugh. What a silly thing to say! She hadn't felt so relaxed since she had arrived in the city, so at ease with another person.
"Kiss me-just a little kiss!" he smiled.
She was taken aback, wondered if her ears had heard him correctly. She wasn't sure, since he made no move to touch her. Kiss him, she thought, disoriented by the turn-around.
But he was clowning. His eyes were shut and his face was turned toward her, his lips slightly parted in anticipation. What the heck, she thought. She bent forward, studying his face for a moment, seeing something reassuring in its composure, and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
"Splendid!" he remarked, opening his eyes and beaming at her. "You kiss like an angel!"
She looked down at her lap, trying not to blush-she was getting too old for that. But it felt so peculiar to kiss a man. It was the first time she had ever done it. Since she could remember, it had always been the other way around.
"Did you like it?" he asked her.
"Sort of," she shrugged, a little wary of him now.
"You kiss like a virgin," he said. She colored to the roots of her short, glossy hair. He had seen right through her-all this time that she had been pretending to listen, nodding regularly as if understanding his worldly narrative. She might as well be wearing a sign over her sweater: RECENT VIRGIN-DO NOT TOUCH. It annoyed her somehow, that he should know, or think he knew. It make her feel terribly young when she wanted more than anything to be worthy of her age, to know that she could interest a man on her own account, just like she would have to win a job on her own merits. Her heart started to thump under her sweater and she prayed that he wouldn't ask her if she was, in fact, a virgin.
"One more," he said. "No hands!"
He turned his face toward her. He must have been really handsome, she thought. He was still good-looking, even if his face was beginning to pouch from age and alcohol.
She leaned over him again. This time she shut her eyes as her mouth found his. She trembled, half-expecting him to grab her, to have to fight him off and break the spell. But only their mouths met. His lips were soft and sensuous, but somehow determined. .
She felt his tongue tip tracing the pattern of her own lips and she let them part a little, shivering as he delicately painted the perimeter of her mouth with his sensitive tongue. She knew she should break but somehow she couldn't. It was so thrilling just to mesh mouths like this, to feel his lips working against hers, to experience his warm wet tongue sliding sensuously into her mouth, recapturing the tingle of acceptance she had striven for when her young assailant had teased her lower opening in the same fashion.
His tongue touched hers and she withdrew it, then relaxed and let it slide forward, submitting to the breathless encounter as their tongues wetly met and his stroked hers with such naked intimacy that she had to struggle with all her muscles to keep from toppling into his lap.
Not even Robert had kissed like this, gentle as he had been. He had been young, boyish, actively seeking. This was more tempting, more elusive, more exciting because he let her come to him, opening by degrees, gaining a slow but sure confidence, until her head started moving and she became mesmerized by the excitement of sliding her lips over his, marveling at the impressions of every nerve-cluster, the vividness with which she could trace his mouth as it reciprocated and melded into hers.
"Myyyy!" she sighed, straightening the crick in her back when he finally turned away. She felt like she was dissolving right into the sofa. This was so different from anything she had known and all she could think of was what a fabulous lover he must be, roses and all.
"Still trust me?" he winked, licking his lips as though he had just savored a great delicacy.
"I don't think I'd better," she confessed, all her feelings or what she thought were her feelings, having just been turned topsy-turvy.
"Why not?" he joked. Then his face straightened with a hint of serious concentration. "Your body does. Look at your nipples."
Nancy gasped in surprise, looking down her front. She had completely forgotten she was wearing no bra, and the tips of her breasts were sticking out like two pencil points, pulling the sweater into two sharp cones.
"I don't blame you. You must have very beautiful breasts, just right for your body!"
Her agitation increased. He was absolutely right, but she had never expected to hear a man say that, as if he were such a connoisseur of female sexuality that he knew her body and its proportions even better than she did.
"They are beautiful, aren't they?" he prodded her.
"Yes!" she answered.
"You're right not to wear a bra," he commented.
She looked at him intently. But he was serious, not drunk, as she had suddenly suspected.
"Very, very few women have such perfectly shaped breasts that they can get away with not wearing one. You should be proud of that!" he intoned.
"Proud of your breasts," he repeated as Nancy, with her chin tucked in, looked down at her breasts, realizing that the sweater left very little to the imagination but for the first time in her life feeling little embarrassment at exposing them, so to speak, to a man-a man who discussed them casually, in reverent terms, as though they were conversing about a work of art.
"What's your name?"
She was surprised that he hadn't known it because she felt she had known him for years. "Nancy."
"Nancy. Fancy that, sweet Nancy!" She smiled affectionately at him. Every time she had him pegged, another facet of him emerged.
"Do me one little favor, Nancy."
"Sure," she nodded.
"Show me your beautiful breasts. Just show them to me!" he requested.
"Oh!" she caught herself. What was he asking? But what did it matter? Hadn't he praised them? And hadn't she agreed with him?
"Don't look," she told him coyly, and he cooperated, turning his head away as she drew her sweater up over her bosom. She paused, looking at them herself, interested in how they appeared from under the sweater in their braless state, then drew her sweater over her head.
"Can I look?"
"Yes!" she breathed, thrilled at the showing of them, as if it were her special privilege to bestow the sight of them on someone she liked.
He took a sip of his drink and slowly turned his head. She looked into his eyes as they focused on her naked topside, startled to see the reflection of her breasts, like two pale, round moons with the dark tight-looking circles in their centers.
"They're very beautiful," he whispered, "even more than I imagined. Look at them, Nancy!"
They both gazed on the swollen hemispheres, caressing them with their eyes. They are beautiful, she thought. The sight of them nakedly mounding from her chest turned her on now, even more than the knowledge that he, an older man, was admiring them too.
"Are your nipples hot?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone.
"Yess!" she answered. They were. They felt scorched by the exposure to their combined stares.
"Do they throb when they get big and hard?" he pursued.
She nodded slowly. "Yesss." And even as she answered, the nut-brown caps of the turgid tips seemed to pulse out, burgeoning with each beat of her heart.
"They'll never be like this again," he advised her. "Each day you grow older and when you have children, they'll become cracked and scarred from nursing, until your lovely nipples will look like calluses, and you won't even recognize them!"
Nancy shuddered. She never wanted that to happen, never! They were so perfect and unblemished in their pristine state. She had to keep them that way.
Hank was fishing in his pocket. He produced a handkerchief and plucking an ice cube from his glass, held it in the handkerchief.
"Let me show you something."
There was something compelling about his manner. Nancy submitted as he brought the ice cube close to her right nipple and then slowly pressed the chilling wet against her naked tit.
"Whoooo!" she exclaimed, sucking in her breath as the ice froze the tissue of the sensitive gland. "It hurts," she told him, wanting to pull away but fascinated by the bizarre instruction.
"Now?" he asked her.
"It's all numb. It's, like, I can't feel it's there," she shivered.
"Good!" He snatched the cube away and plunked it into the glass. "Now put your nipple in my mouth. Come on, hurry!" he said urgently.
She leaned over his face obediently, thrusting the frozen button between his open lips. His mouth closed over the end of her white breast, applying a gentle suction that pulled half her mound into his mouth.
"OHHH! OHHHHMIGOOOOD!" she moaned. It hurt so much. The clasp of his mouth scorched the burning, painfully throbbing bud. But it was a delicious agony. The hotter his mouth grew around the melting protuberance, the more an intense, incomparably sizzling pleasure glowed in the thawing nerve-rich nut of her nipples, so excruciatingly, erotically stimulating that she could hardly stand it, moaning and swaying back and forth as he followed her, his tongue lolling around her tit, increasing the pleasure pangs which threatened to burst the tortured female tissue.
"Ohh! Ohhhh!" she groaned, at last extracting the tormented tit-end from his mouth. She grabbed her breast, cupping it in her hand, staring down at it to confirm that it was still there, that it hadn't dissolved in his mouth and melted away as the fantastic sensations had suggested.
"What was that like?" he asked with a grin.
"I never felt anything like that before," she admitted, her eyes moist with tears of erotic ambivalence over the conflicting shocks of pain and joy that still coursed through her. But she wasn't sorry she had done it. As much as it had hurt, she was glad she had felt what she had-a localized physical rapture stronger than anything she had ever undergone, except possibly for the ecstatic inflammation her clitoris could produce.
"There are so many things I could show you about your body," Hank announced.
"I believe it!" she replied, shamelessly nurturing her buzzing breast in careful inspection as he looked on.
"Good! I want you to sleep with me, Nancy," he declared.
She looked up at him. Sleep with him? No one had ever put it that way. Did he mean screw her? No, she knew he didn't. She knew it would be a different kind of experience, stranger and probably more fulfilling than anything she could imagine. But she didn't know how to answer him. She wanted to, and she didn't. She wanted him to really worship her body as his pronouncements indicated he would, but she couldn't quite get past the hurdle of giving herself to a man, even one she thought she had come to know so well in so short a time.
"Say you will. I'll do things for you, you never thought of before!" he promised fervently.
"I...." Nancy gazed at her nipple which was still flushed with pleasure and slowly returning to its normal reddish color.
"Just say yes!" he insisted, not in a horny way, but like a counselor urging her to the wisest course.
"Yes," she said, almost inaudibly, at a loss to-know why, in spite of his magnetism, she was agreeing.
"Fine! Good girl!" he nodded. "And just to show you I'm not taking advantage, I'm going to leave this here, so you can buy a dozen sweaters for your lovely young breasts."
He produced a silvery money clip from his pocket, and as Nancy stared in disbelief at the amount of money it seemed to contain, peeled off a crisp hundred dollar bill and laid it on the table next to the sofa.
"No," she shook her head, disillusioned by his offer.
"Yes," he grinned. "Consider it your diploma when you wake up tomorrow morning."
She giggled. He was so silly. But she didn't want the money.
"Come on," he urged her, suddenly springing up like a much younger man and grabbing her by the hand.
He pulled her into the bedroom where she stood in bemusement as he literally jumped out of his clothes so quickly that he was stark naked before she could blink, standing before her in his muscled, hairy glory, his modest-looking penis hanging between his legs.
"Undress! Hurry!" he commanded her.
Excited by his sudden display of impatience, she shucked off her skirt and danced out of her panties as he murmuringly praised her beauty.
When she was completely naked he stepped forward and wrapped her in a passionate embrace, mashing his mouth against hers, his fingers tickling the back of her neck and the tops of her shoulders until she squirmed with delight. She could feel his whole, hard body pressing against hers and it felt good-his maleness felt good against her breasts, belly and legs, and she could feel his penis swelling between them, pulsing rapidly against the inside of her thigh.
"I wanted you the moment I saw you!" he confessed as he guided her to the bed and made her lie down with her arms straight out and her legs spread wide open, displayed like a sacrificial lamb as he straddled her with his swarthy body, his penis jabbing the air like an angry red finger.
"Ohhhh!" she sighed as he hunched over her prostrate form and began nuzzling her neck with furious wet kisses that sent searing signals of abandonment up and down her spine.
He turned her arms up, kissing the tender ivory flesh inside her biceps, even pushing his eager mouth into her armpits until she squealed with surprised delight at the sensations he aroused there.
He worked down to her breasts, going from one to the other as if he couldn't make up his mind between the two, chafing her pounding nipples with deliberately dry lips until she could stand it no longer and thrust herself up against his face.
"Beautiful breasts," he panted. "Beautiful, delicious young nipples!"
His words made her tingle with a horny pride. Then he opened his mouth and began licking each nipple in turn, running his tongue around the erect tits in racing circles until she thought she would go mad with the pleasure pulses arcing across her heaving bosom.
"I could bite them right off!" he boasted and he tugged at each one with the merest pressure of his sharp teeth until Nancy groaned with the mingling of irritation and ecstasy. Then he closed his mouth over them, sucking up with all his might so the cones stretched up from her chest with a satisfying strain, his jaws opening incredibly wide, his mouth nearly swallowing the pliant pinnacle, suctioning the nipple down into his greedy throat.
She thought he would pull her boobs right off but found herself groaning aloud and gripping the bedclothes as he lathered her breasts one by one, molding them in his wet tonguing mouth until her nipples felt like burning coals floating atop cloud-like pillows of pulsating flesh.
She clapped her hands over the slippery surfaces of her swollen tits, trying to preserve the electric excitement that had galvanized them. With lifted head, she watched him kissing an elaborate trail of passion points all over her body, uttering sharp exclamations of joy as his seeking mouth flushed pangs of pleasure from unexpected hollows and ridges of her slender body.
His approach was so like Robert's-this veneration of her shapely body and its charms-so different from the recent assaults that had convinced her she would always forswear future sex rather than submit again to such pain and degradation.
"You're getting hot," he told her as he nipped at the fluttering flesh of her belly, flicking his tongue in and out of the sensitive little pit of her dimpled navel.
"Yess!" she admitted, squeezing her breasts, glad that he could tell how horny his manipulations were making her.
"I'm going to kiss your toes now," he announced.
She looked down over her body at him as he hunkered at the foot of her bed, grabbing her foot, kissing his way up along the arch until her leg jerked spasmodically, then taking her delicate little toes in his mouth, sucking on them until she fell back on the pillows mewling with delight.
This bizarre treatment was even more thrilling than the hot-and-cold he had administered to her nipple. Her toes wiggled in his mouth. She squealed like a baby as he wormed his tongue between the diminutive digits. Tingling tremors of novel eroticism shot up and down her legs as he held both her feet and suckled all ten of her toes.
He held her feet apart and began mouthing the firm but supple muscles of her calves, driving her mad with excitement as he twisted under her legs, kissing and tonguing the silky pockets of smooth skin under her knees.
"Now your thighs!"
"Ooooo!" she squealed in anticipation, for the first time in her life opening her legs voluntarily to a man, eager to feel his Casanova-kisses on her upper legs.
He squatted between them, letting them fall over his hairy shoulders. She lay in a state of wantonly selfish pleasure as his mouth jumped from thigh to thigh, pinching and tweaking the snow-white, fine flesh between and under her legs with his moistly seeking mouth.
"Ohhh! Ohhh, yesss!" she exhorted him as his hands slid under the ripe globes of her buttocks and his ravenous mouth crawled up her inner thighs, nearing the most sensitive spot of all.
She clasped her hands behind her head, forcing it up, wanting to see this time, to watch his face slowly disappearing between the vise of her thighs as his lips crept closer and closer to her curdling crotch.
"You're wet, Nancy," he informed her. "You're so hot you're already creaming!"
"Yes!" she gasped, knowing it was true, realizing by the aching pangs of need down deep in her abdomen that her vulva must be oozing with redolent lubricatory juices.
"I'm going to eat you. I'm going to eat all of your young, creaming cunt," he warned her, and she felt almost as thrilled at his words as she knew she would be by the actual contact to come.
He slid his hands under her hams and she felt his thumbs worm up into her curving slit. Then they pried her slippery flanges apart, peeling the fatty lips open and holding them against the tops of her inner thighs, as if he was trying to turn the shallow exterior opening of her sex inside out.
"OOOOGHH!" she choked as his head moved up and down and he began licking the glossy pink surfaces of her clamped-open quim with the fluid flat of his tongue, painting each labial expanse his thumbs had pulled apart as if his tongue were an artist's brush dancing across twin canvases.
Her distended cunt lips felt like two slick walls that his tongue washed up and down, stroking the intimate surfaces until she felt a coiling knot tighten deep in her genital well.
"OOOO! OOOO! OHHHH!" she yelped. His mouth was in between her spread-open labial rims, his lips seeking the miniature morsels which dwelt in dewy desire at the bottom of the pink canyon he had shaped her cunt into with his massaging thumbs.
She felt his tongue trace the perimeter of her ragged inner hole. She wanted him to enter her with the thrusting muscle and to lick out her insides like an animate phallic organ.
Then he did-darting into the passage beyond the incredibly excited iris of her vaginal eye, flicking his tongue in and out of the seething juicy socket like a striking serpent.
She clamped her burning thighs around his head, wanting his tongue to be as big as a penis inside her, to keep revolving and rippling in the secret depths of her creaming crater. But his tongue retreated. His lips continued to press against her ovaled female opening like an airtight seal while his tongue buffeted the quivering pad of feminine meat that overhung the inner aperture like a rubbery knuckle.
Then it skidded upward, whipping back and forth across the gaping expanse of cuntal tissue until the blood seemed to boil in her veins and her whole body vibrated with the tension orchestrated by his oral tuning fork.
"YAAAAH! OHHHH! GUUU! AAAAGH!" she clamored in lewd exclamation as he sucked on her vaginal valley, pulling the sodden folds of her flaring fissure into his mouth.
His tongue swirled around the heated little hood at the top of her vulva and somehow sought out the miniature swollen member of her clitoris.
"EEEEAAAAGH! OHHH! TOO MUCH! TOO MUCH!" she cried as he hovered on the vestigial projection with his tongue tip like a horny hummingbird. "OHHHH! OHDEARGOD! OHGODICANT STAAANDIT!" she sobbed.
She curled up like a worm, trying to dislodge his mouth, to suck the flaming clitoral finger back into the recesses of her body. But he didn't let go. Instead he began pushing the mucousy underside of his tongue around and around over the quivering passion-pained trigger of her torrid zone.
"OHHH! OHHHH! OHGOD! OHGOD! OHGOD!" she grunted, her entire body undulating obscenely as shock waves ignited by the white hot filament in the roiling isthmus of her twat charged up and down her beleaguered body.
He closed his lips slightly, ringing the unabashed arch of her panting pussy with an intense suction that seemed to pull her clitoris right into his voracious mouth, and his tongue coursed madly around it like a ball bearing in a centrifuge.
"UUUUOOOOHHHH! YII! YII! YIIEEEE!" she wailed as her clitoral rubbing seemed to swell and split open, laying bare the nervous fiber of her very soul. Immediately she was shaken by a searing climax that made her body feel like a violin string violently plucked and held over a flame. His mouth was like a bellows. His tongue the catalyst which burned fiercely against the sparking plug of her clitoris. Her whole cunt was consumed by a sudden stunning fire which lapped through her groin and after the frenzied moment of combustive climax, seemed to turn her to ashes, incapable of further response or reaction to the charred remains of her hollow organ.
"That's the beginning!" he said, licking his glistening lips.
"Ohhhh!" she groaned weakly, incapable of contemplating any further stimulation.
"Your turn! Now it's mine. Roll over, Nancy. Come on, roll over-on your belly!"
He turned her over like a limp sack.
"Get up on your knees!" he commanded as he shoved her legs under her.
She moaned in a mindless stupor raising her posterior as he lifted her to her knees, burying her face in her fists as she supported her weight on her elbows.
"That's it-show me your lovely little fanny," he said, leaning over and reaching for one of the numerous tubes that littered the bottom shelf of Livy's bedside cabinet.
What now, she thought. How could he top that oral form of erotic homage which had left her sated? Was he going to take her from behind, introduce her to yet another incomparable demonstration of sexual diversity. Her crotch felt nakedly exposed to him, her pudenda still gaping open like a long wet trough, blinking rearward like a mare ready for her stallion.
He smiled at her loveliness, gazing unseen on the beauty of her upthrust cheeks, the milky spheres that surmounted the hair-rimmed revelation of the rift he had no intention of coupling himself to. She was so impressionable! So innocent! From the moment he had started snowing her, he had been thinking of this-maneuvering her into complete cooperation and unthinking compliance with his devious design.
He squeezed the clear slippery jelly from the tube and quickly glopped it on the hole her willing body displayed.
"Wha...." she murmured, turning her face sideways on her hands, wanting to fall over and lie on her side, exhausted and unfit for more sex.
"I'm going to take you now!" he exulted, kneeling between her feet and pulling her back toward him, his thumbs spreading her winsome buttocks to fully reveal the crinkled unsuspecting date of her pink hole.
"Bu-ohhh!" she gasped, thinking he had missed as his bulbous prickhead mashed into the gob of jelly in her anal crack and centered on the tightly sealed circle of her sphincter. It felt funny-his penis pressing on the muscled hole and she wiggled her bottom in amusement, trying to get her vulva higher in the air, to guide his stony member to the cleft she felt was clamoring for carnal coupling.
"That's it, shake your little ass! Here I go!" Hank cried exuberantly.
Nancy's head leaped off the pillows as he pulled back on her body, forcing his cockhead against its target. She felt an instant stab of panic as his prick bore against her anus with a sudden sharp insistence. It felt all wrong. What was he trying to do?
"Shake it! Shake it like before!" he shouted at her. "Help me split your little cherry!"
"No!" she yelped in confusion, trying to crawl forward, to pull her ass away from the painful pressure of his penis. It couldn't be what she thought! She couldn't believe he would do that, that any man would dare to do that-that unthinkable, perverted act!
"Yyyyes!" he growled. "Here it goes!"
He gave a swift reciprocating swivel of his hips, lunging forward and lodging the tip of his prick in the lubricated ring of her rectal muscle.
"NOOO-YEEEOWWWW!" she shrieked. It felt like his cock was tearing her bottom open, lancing her as cruelly as Coit had her real cherry only days before.
"YESSS!" he gloated, yanking her back so she almost sat in his lap, the weight of her body forcing the elastic noose of her anus open around the swollen bulb of his penis.
"NOOOOO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOWWWW-NOOO! EEEOWWW!" she raged, trying to expel the unnatural penetration which had pierced her asshole.
"I'm fucking you in the ass, Nancy. Going to fuck you in your lovely virgin ass!" he whooped, hauling her back as he pushed forward, cramming his jelly coated cock inch by inch into the crack between her cheeks, watching with shining eyes as her protesting perimeter was slowly enlarged, ovaled open by the relentless force of his rigid rod.
"OWWWW-WOWWWW-YOWWWW!" she screamed, her whole body convulsing like a a wild mustang trying to throw off its first rider. The pain was splitting her, knifing into her backside as though she had sat on a broken bottle.
"That's it! Squirm! Wriggle like a fish, you little bitch! Snake your ass around my cock! It feels so good! Shake it! Suck my cock with your tight asshole!" he taunted her.
"No-no-no-no!" she chanted hysterically, beating her fists on the bed, unable to believe it was actually happening-that this gentle man who had lured her into bed and seduced her with such divine skill was now perpetrating this painful horror on her-accompanying his perversion with the curses that clobbered her burning ears.
"Yes!" he hissed. "The more you shake, the tighter it feels! Keep squirming, Nancy. Help me stuff my whole cock into your little pink asshole!"
"Oh, God, no! Noooo!" she wailed, collapsing onto the bed, her flesh shriveling with the agony produced by his painful entry.
"Uuuuunh!" he grunted, falling heavily on top of her and lunging up so the last remaining inches of his prick plunged between her cheeks, his balls slapping the underside of her vulva with the effort.
She screeched in pain as his penis flexed inside her, filling her bowels, and then reversed itself, rasping outward in the crinkled clench of her asshole.
"There! There we go!" he shuddered, beginning to screw her with a vengeance now that his whole staff was slippery with the lubricant from Livy's erotic arsenal. He pushed her legs wide apart with his knees, causing her ass to tuck down more sensuously as he defiled her with sharp, deliberate strokes of his degrading dagger.
Nancy sobbed hysterically, venting all her shame and suffering, wanting to die rather than undergo another second of the merciless mashing sensation this unnatural union produced within her. She thought she would throw up right there on the bed, but each time she started to heave, he came down so heavily on top of her that the impulse was crushed from her body along with her breath. Why is he doing this? she asked herself, as she wept in agony beneath his pounding abuse.
His penis seemed to dive through her organs and stab her very stomach. Every time he plunged in to the hilt, rubbing his pubic hair on her buns, she screamed with the pain of dilation, and every time he withdrew she sobbed with relief at the sensation of her outraged anus drawing tight, like a noose, around his tormenting tool.
"Pllllleeeease, please stop!" she begged him. "Pllleeease!"
In answer he gave a violent sideways lunge and rolled over on his back, rotating her belly-up on top of him, making her scream with renewed agony at the torturous feel of his passion thrusting up between her cheeks like a rupture deep in her bowels.
He held her by the breasts, humping her wildly, making her body flop about on top of his like a rag doll on a pike. And he pinched her nipples till she didn't know whether she was coming or going in the double-ended welter of erotic assault.
"STOP!" she pleaded.
Thrash and heave as she could, there seemed to be no way to get her body off the skewering spit of his lust. She broke out in sweat all over and would have slipped around at right angles to him if he hadn't kept a tight grasp on her heaving bosom.
"Now!" he announced, as her struggles abated from sheer fatigue, "you're really going to feel it."
He crawled backward, up on the pillows, until he was leaning against the headboard, the hook of his uncurving prick bringing her with him, hoisting her body to a semi-sitting position.
He reached down, bending her over double so her spine bore down on his stanchion, and grabbed her legs under the knees.
"Oh, no! No! No, please don't!" she babbled, sensing what he was about to do.
"Upsa-daisy!" he chuckled, slowly lifting her legs in front of her, pulling them up until they were almost at her chest.
It hurt so much she could hardly breathe. She was bent in half, knees against her chest, her whole body sunk down on the erect impaling shank of his cock. She could feel the head of his penis somewhere up in her belly, almost to her waist, gouging at her as her anus strained like a tautly stretched rubber band around the base of his slippery spike.
"Here we go!" he enthused, using her legs as handles to twist her this way and that, rotating her on the pivot of his pulsing prick as she begged for mercy.
"Incredible! Can't you feel it?" he shouted into her ear. "Can't you feel your whole ass massaging my cock?"
She sobbed at his description. It was true. Her bowels churned around his torturous organ as he used her whole body like a slab of meat wrapped around his dick.
"Look!" he gloated, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and holding her on his lap.
Nancy stared into the mirror hanging on the wall, seeing her face framed by the backsides of her legs and below the hairy tuft of their junction, his revoltingly hidden pillar stabbing up into her body.
"Y-you're a beast!" she spat, turning away from the spectacle of her victimization.
He laughed and rolled sideways, swiftly bending her over the edge of the bed as he landed on his feet and began hammering his log of lust in and out of her straining sphincter in an orgy of buggerdom.
She bit the bedclothes as he pumped up and down, her knees bumping on the floor, her breasts mashed into the bed as he humped faster and faster over her.
His grunts came faster and faster. His prick was a flying Juggernaut, reaming her swollen hole with vicious animal energy. When he began gasping, thrusting his hands under her armpits and hauling her body down onto his reciprocating rod by the shoulders, she felt grateful for the increased pain, sure that he had to come, that it had to end. And it did.
"Ugh! Oh, God. Unghaaaah!" she sobbed as his cock leapt in her rectum and thrust home in one desperate last lunge, sinking to the hilt in her slimy anus, before beginning to jerk and jump, flooding her bowels with a boiling torrent of molten come that seemed to weld her asshole to his organ and made her convulse with shame and loathing for the way he had deceived and abused her.
She didn't move when he finally yanked his limp, sperm-slick prick from her tightly closing hole. She felt his viscous sperm ooze from her anus in a disgusting trickle, dripping down into her pubic bush. But she didn't look up or try to rid herself of the sickening sensation.
She could hear him dressing, and then his approaching footsteps. She sensed that he was bending over her and then she felt his hand touching her bare flank.
"That was beautiful, Nancy! You're much better than your sister-much, much more exciting. Stick around and I'll see you next time in town-and don't blow that dough all at once! Later, kiddo!" And then he was gone, the locks clicking home behind him, and she was alone with her grief and humiliation.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Well! I see Henry was here last night," Livy remarked as she sat down to breakfast with her sullen, silent younger sister.
"Did he do his usual? Yeah, I guess so-all charm and then a dick up the ass, huh? Well, it isn't the end of the world, is it?"
Nancy didn't reply. She couldn't eat either. Just thinking about what she had undergone made her queasy again, even though she had spent nearly an hour after he had gone purging her body with soap and hot water.
"But you made a C-note, didn't you? Not bad for an evening's work, and one trick at that. Henry always was a big spender, though. He likes them young and fresh-I guess you were just prime fodder for his old faggot cannon!"
Nancy pushed the plate of bacon and eggs away.
"Listen!" Livy yelled at her without any warning. "What makes you so goddamned special, huh? I'm sick of this May queen jive of yours. A thousand chicks get it in the ass, and in the ear too-every single night! And they aren't any different from you! Wise up! Get off that goddamned high horse of yours, and look life in the eye instead of pretending that it's rolling over you. I've just about had it with your martyrdom! Goddamn it, I'm talking to you! I've had it! Do you hear me?? HEAR ME???"
She reached across the table and slapped Nancy on the side of the head, nearly knocking her out of her chair. She doubled up, more in sorrow than in pain, and began quietly sobbing.
"Oh, shit!" Livy said. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. Hey, Nan, hey, come on, Nan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" She came round the table and hugged her sister to her.
Nancy embraced her like the mother she had missed since they were both so young, and wept profusely, letting all of her anguish drain out.
"I'm sorry, Nan, but you've got to wise up. It's not so bad. It really isn't. Look, you've been tramping around the city like Little Miss Muffet for days now and what did it get you? So Henry's a shit-they're all shits. But you got a hundred bucks out of him, didn't you? A hundred and fifty bucks, counting Andy. Why don't you face it? Turn a few tricks, nothing steady, just turn a few for a couple of weeks and you'd have it made. Hell, you could put a thousand bucks in the bank and go off and live like a rich hippie and not have to worry about a job for months! Dig it, Nan! It's the only way to make it-the only way. Use them before they use you. Stop thinking of yourself as some kind of angel and be practical. Make a little dough-you can use my place. Then you can split. Doesn't it make sense?"
"I don't know!" Nancy sobbed.
"Well, I know. I may not be a good example of anything, but I've had a good time. I wouldn't want to see you go into it steady. But Christ, you could make more dough in a week than you could in six months at some cruddy job, and then you'd be free. Come on, now. Cheer up, eat some grub and think it over."
"Whataya say?" Livy asked, coming back into the kitchen as Nancy finished her food, shifting in her chair on the sore spot of her sphincter.
"I ... I don't think I could," she responded. "Not after last night. I couldn't stand that again. I just couldn't!"
"You don't have to," Livy rejoined. "It's just a question of knowing the mark. They all have different tastes. Some're a little farther out than others. Ain't no big thing. I could fix you up with some real clean cut guys-they'd be just like high school heroes. You've got to earn your way," she added in a sterner tone.
"B-but it's just not right," Nancy protested weakly, her objections battling with the concept of the money her sister had spoken of, more money than she had ever thought about, much less seen, at any one time.
"So what's right?" Livy said scornfully. "That's what I mean. You've got to get off this righteousness kick. Live for now, Nan, for now! Stop acting like the princess on the fucking pea and get it together!
"You got a beautiful body. So use it for a couple of weeks and then live a little. Who gives a shit if it's right? Does working in a fucking office for some legal crooks and never making enough money to buy bubble-gum make it right?"
Nancy couldn't argue with her sister. She stared at her as Livy sat down, drew up her dress, tightened the wrap around her upper thigh, pinched her flesh until she found a vein, and stabbed it with the loaded works.
Nancy shuddered in revulsion, unable to accept the fact that her sister was a junkie. Everything that Livy had said sounded good, but she wondered if it was worth it to lose your self-respect to the point Livy had reached. She wondered if she herself had any self-respect left, after the sexual assaults that had crashed in so thick and fast on her innocent world of dreams and naive aspirations.
Livy stretched out in the chair, hanging her head back as the dose hit, oblivious of her sister for several long minutes.
"How much do you spend on that?" Nancy asked timidly.
"Oh, shit, I don't know," her sister sighed. "Three or four bills a week. Cheap at the price. Want a fix?"
"No!" Nancy trembled, weak-kneed at the mere thought of using a hypodermic on herself, much less one with a dangerous drug in it.
"Yeah, I don't blame you, I guess. I wouldn't wish it on ... on my own sister."
The two of them smiled at each other, silently crossing the bridges of kinship that spanned the gulf between them.
"Well, listen, how would you like to go sailing?"
"Sure!" Nancy's eyes lit up in brilliant contrast to her sister's clouded pupils.
"Okay, but there's a catch. It's a private party and if you come along, you'll have to go along, dig? They're all nice guys, though. I've been out with them before. And it's good money-real good money. What better way to spend a day? Whatdaya say?"
Nancy struggled with her emotions for a moment. So what? she thought. So what's right? And maybe I'll even meet someone who could land me a real job. I can't lose.
"Okay," she smiled.
"Far fucking out! Get a summer dress on, and a warm coat."
"And my bathing suit?" Nancy chirped as she dashed into the bedroom toward her suitcase.
"You won't need a bathing suit, believe me! Jesus," Livy shook her head dazedly, speaking to herself, "she really was born yesterday!"
A calliope-like horn sounded from the street below.
"Let's go, hon!"
"Oh, no!" Nancy cried, stopping in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs when she recognized Coit's pearly smile behind the wheel of the tangerine colored Cadillac convertible.
"Now what?"
"It's him!"
"Sure it's him! Whodja expect, Henry Kissinger? Come on, he's just driving us to the boat."
Nancy reluctantly let her sister steer her out the door and across the sidewalk, dropping her eyes as Coit welcomed her into the car with a booming laugh.
"Got yourself an understudy, huh?" he grinned at Livy.
"Don't ride the kid. She's in and she gets her share!"
"Okay by me, long as she doesn't pull any of that sweet-six teen bullshit!" The car squealed away from the curb, scattering a group of ragged, wide-eyed children in the street and throwing Nancy back between her sister and a buxom red-haired girl.
"Marya, my kid sister, Nancy."
"Hi."
"Hi." Nancy would have liked to talk to the third girl, but she was too terrified by the speed of the Cadillac to do anything but hang on as they were thrown back and forth.
"He-he went through that red light!" Nancy shouted, looking fearfully back at the police car sitting at the intersection and wondering why it wasn't giving chase.
"Relax, hon. They don't mess with him-not with all the bread he cuts them in on."
Then, for the first time, Nancy realized what Coit was. He was Livy's pimp, and Marya's ... and hers too. She wanted out. But it was too late. They had careened through a parking lot and were bouncing down a long wooden wharf. The horn sounded again-a loud melodious solo-as they lurched to a stop.
"This the same bunch?" Marya asked Coit, displaying her legs to her miniskirted crotch as she clambered out of the car.
"Naw, they're in from the islands. It's a different corporation."
A silver-haired, tan man in nautical blazer and yachtsman's cap appeared, smiling at the three girls.
"Right on time," he said.
"Check!" Coit grinned.
"You think three'll be enough?" he asked.
"You just radio me if you need reinforcements."
"Okay. Here you go." He handed Coit a machine-printed cashier's check. The black looked at it, nodded, and slipped it into a shiny leather wallet.
"Don't damage the merchandise," he said in mock warning, climbing back into the Cadillac.
"Don't worry-you'll get them back safe and sound!"
The Cadillac's tires squealed. Nancy watched in awe as the car shot backward down the full length of the wharf.
"Let's go, dears," the man announced.
Nancy stumbled down the gangplank open-mouthed. The boat was enormous, beautiful, a sleek white cutter of the kind photographed in fan magazines. She instinctively tiptoed onto the deck, not wanting to scratch the gleaming wooden planking with her heels.
A horn blew as the man guided them into a doorway. She hung back for a minute, catching sight of two deckhands throwing off the mooring lines. There was a rumble deep in the bowels of the ship and they were moving, slipping away from the wharf, turning so that she glimpsed the city's skyline before the door shut, leaving the three women alone in the cabin. It was like a dream: the polished woodwork and brass fittings, the elegant drawing-room style furniture and old engravings on the walls, and Oriental carpeting on the floor-more like a townhouse than a boat.
Her sister and the other girl were chatting away, as naturally as if they were home, but Nancy paced the room nervously, looking out the portholes, sensing the rhythm and roll of the boat like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings. It was the first time in her life that she had been on a boat and she wanted to go out on deck, to feel the fresh salt air and see the sea. But she wanted to be close to Livy more, as if by sticking with her sister and the other girl, she could quell the strange uneasiness in her stomach.
One of the louvered wooden doors swung open and an ageing black man in domestic whites stood pinging on a small bronze gong.
"Time for truth and consequences," Marya sighed, getting up.
"Time for lunch!" Livy corrected her, following the black down a circular wooden stairwell that boggled Nancy's mind as she followed the other two women.
"What do I do?" she whispered frantically.
"Just be yourself, hon. Do anything they want you to," Livy winked up at her.
"The more enthusiasm you show, the better the tip!" added Marya.
"Yeah. Put your heart into it, hon, and you can. make as much as five tricks put together."
"Good afternoon, ladies!"
They had entered an incredible rosewood-paneled dining suite. Three men in sports shirts and slacks, and the nautically attired silver-haired man had stood up around a table set for seven.
The men all looked to be around forty or fifty. They gazed at the three women who stood lined up by the door as if on cue. There was a strange silence. Nancy felt as though she had just crashed a diplomatic luncheon. It was as if she had walked right into the pages of some magazine story. And all three men seemed to be looking at her.
One of the men nodded at Marya. The captain stepped around the table and held a chair for her, seating her next to her admirer. The seconds ticked by as the other two men glanced at each other. Then the younger of the two gestured toward Livy. She was seated next to him. Nancy stepped forward as if in a trance and let herself be placed next to the oldest man.
The four men sat down, the captain at the head of the table. Immediately two stewards appeared, one rolling a silvered serving cart up to the table, the other popping open a bottle and filling glasses with a golden, fizzling liquid.
Nancy felt a hand pushing up her dress and a set of pudgy fingers closing on the flesh of her upper thigh. Her skin crawled and she forced herself to look at the flowers in the centerpiece, thinking confusedly: money, it's only money, only for money!
"What's your name, dear?" her companion asked.
"Nancy," she somehow managed to reply, turning to look at him. He was almost bald, red-faced, his beak-like nose covered with an intricate network of tiny scarlet veins. A mass of gray hair showed above his shirt and she realized that he was fatter than he had looked when standing up and choosing her.
"To your beauty, Nancy." He raised his thin-stemmed glass. "To the beauty of all these lovely young ladies."
The other men raised their glasses, and the three girls followed suit. Champagne! Nancy flashed as she sipped the cool, fizzy, libation. My God, I'm drinking champagne for the first time in my life, like a princess on a yacht!
She had never felt more relieved when, as the luncheon was deftly served by the silent stewards, the four men fell to talking business. Not that she could follow their conversation, in spite of sometimes catching words like planning, master development, new towns, and the like. But they were ignoring the three of them, so she didn't have to make conversation. She didn't have to say a thing-none of them did.
She watched Livy carefully, observing which fork and spoon to use for each of the never-ending courses. She wanted to hold back on the champagne but the bottle kept appearing over her glass like a threat, forcing her to keep sipping the drink which she knew was making her giddy, so giggly she could barely suppress the impulse to laugh out loud just because it was all so unreal and comical that she, a backwoods girl, should be here, with these rich and powerful men.
But except when he was using both hands to eat, her companion never let her forget why she was there. His fingers seemed to be constantly squeezing her thigh. The skirt of her sundress was up around her lap. Her napkin was on her left thigh, and his hand on the other, his fingers kneading her like little sausages, casually teasing the most sensitive skin up around the silky surface of her warm inner leg.
More than once, when the boat lurched or rolled with a heavy swell, she felt she would fall right off her chair from the combination of the wine and the maddeningly intimate manipulation of his fingers.
Marya and Livy must have been in this situation many times, she thought. They didn't seem surprised that the men never addressed a word to them. They ate and drank and let themselves be waited on, wearing faint smiles of comfort and pleasure as if they had been imported merely to enhance the business atmosphere of the table with the pleasing presence of femininity.
"All right, then, we'll settle the papers tonight," her companion announced with the gesture of his glass, leaning back to let a steward light his cigar.
"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to tend to!" Marya's client said.
"Let's have a look at those matters!" Nancy's man grinned.
Marya reached up and pulled the top of her low-cut blouse down, wiggling her shoulders so her plump braless breasts popped out in full display. She wriggled in her chair, making the pink-capped mounds swing in opposing directions, smiling round the table at the admiring looks they drew.
"I'd say you're going to have your hands full," the other man chortled.
The captain rose and slid back Marya's chair. She stood up bare-breasted, her blouse down around her waist, as her man left the table and then followed him out of the room, her breasts visibly swaying to either side of her smooth, naked back.
The captain held Livy's chair. She winked at Nancy as she rose, sliding her arm through that of her companion. Nancy wished she were with him, the younger man. He looked nice and he was amazingly handsome. She suddenly felt abandoned as the two of them left.
Without a word, Nancy got up and followed her man out the door. They went down a long narrow passage and then up two flights of brassedged stairs.
She could see the ocean now, through the portholes, a glittering expanse of unbroken blue, the horizon slowly rising and falling with the ship's motion.
"Oh! What's that?" she asked, pointing at a long streak of brownish stain that they were steering away from.
"Oil," he answered gruffly. "The tankers have to clean their tanks out at sea now, since those ecology nuts started to raise such hell about pollution."
"Oh."
He was holding a door for her and she stepped through ahead of him, brushing his paunchy stomach by accident, and shuddering at the contact.
They were in an expansive stateroom, well forward and above the main deck. The ship's roll was more pronounced and Nancy had to fight to keep her balance against the dizzying conspiracy of the sea and champagne. She was breathless at the opulence of the furnishings.
"Fruit?" he asked, offering her the plate of cheeses and fruits from the table.
"Thanks." Nancy took a few of the large, purple grapes. One of them fell as she tried to eat it and she saw his eyes follow it, a pall of irritation on his face. Guiltily, she knelt to retrieve the errant grape.
"Lie down, there, on the floor."
"Pardon?" Nancy said as she began to stand up.
"Lie down on the rug there," he repeated, shuffling through some records and placing one on the stereo built into the stateroom's paneled wall. The sound of a singer doing arias filled the cabin. Nancy knelt down, then sat awkwardly on the floor. Finally she laid herself out on the cushiony rug.
She could see the reflection of the sunlight on the sea shimmering across the arched white ceiling, and braced herself against the boat's roll by planting her arms out to her sides. She wondered why he would want to take her on the floor when there was a beautiful bunk in the room.
He motioned to her to spread her legs and she did so uneasily. He set a chair between her feet and sat down in it, staring intently down at her as he munched on fruit and cheese from the table.
"Nancy?" he said in a hard, questioning voice.
"Yes?" she replied timidly, feeling a chill of apprehension at the position he had taken up, at the fact that she was lying on her back at his feet.
"Lift your hips up in the air," he instructed her, spitting out some grape seeds into his fist.
She lifted her buttocks off the rug, suspending her hips in the air.
"Higher!" he demanded. "Get up on your feet. Lift them as high as you can!"
She bent her knees and got her feet on the floor to either side of the chair. Then she arched her back, making a bridge with her body, trembling with the exertion of lifting up her pubic area toward him.
"That's an effort for you?" he asked.
"Yeh-ess," she replied. It was, and it felt slightly silly besides.
"Now move your hips in a circle, slowly," he commanded.
She hadn't figured on it being such hard work. It really took an effort to slowly swivel her hips round and round in mid-air. She braced her elbows underneath her and supported her back on her hands. Then she stretched her arms out flat underneath her, using the muscles of her shoulders to help keep her torso airborne. Then she started working her legs, flexing at the knees, feeling the strain of her thigh tendons as she pulled her pubic promontory up and down, feeling the thin material of the dress mold over it.
"I-I'm getting really tired," she complained, wondering why he was making her perform this lewd pantomime.
"Good! Good! Keep it up. A little faster now. You don't get anything without working for it!"
"Ohhh, whewww! I can't go on for much longer!"
"Yes you will!" he insisted. "Make bigger circles now."
Nancy shut her eyes and put all her strength into the contortions, heaving her hips round and round in irregular orbit, feeling the skirt of her sundress gather between her taut thighs.
"Keep going!" he demanded.
"I am," she panted.
She sensed that he was leaning over her from the edge of the chair even before he had touched her. Then she felt her dress being pushed back, gathered up over her tensing tummy, and she realized that he must be watching her pantyclad crotch circle round and round before him. If she hadn't been so out of breath, she would have laughed at the absurdity of it. But she was tired. Her body was beginning to sweat profusely. The luncheon cramped in her stomach. Her muscles were developing knots. She slid on the rug trying to brace herself up, trying to keep her midriff moving in the air, describing obscene arcs for his pleasure.
"Don't stop!" he commanded. She had jerked and nearly collapsed at the touch of his pudgy fingers. Panting out loud with fatigue, she kept going as his fingers crept up over her tossing hips and began to pull at her panties.
He was slowly pulling them off, exposing her humping secret triangle, rolling her panties down, his hands following the flight of her body. She felt them brush her pubic hair. The elastic bit into the tops of her thighs as he pulled her panties off her crotch, leaving them suspended like a pink banner between her legs as she continued to jerk up and down.
She craned her head up for a glimpse of what he was doing and saw his unpleasant little eyes glowering on the center of her body, obviously enjoying the wanton dance of her tufted sex that was no longer concealed by the panties which stretched between her aching thighs.
"C-can I s-stop now?" she panted.
"You stop when I tell you!" he replied curtly. "Go faster now, faster! Move just like you were screwing me, like you were coming! Faster! Get it up high! Faster, faster!"
Nancy bucked and jerked as wildly as she could. Her whole body was drenched with sweat. She felt her dress clinging to her body, her scalp prickling with the heat of her frantic exertions. She reared her head up and saw him leering fixedly at her tossing pudenda, his head in his hands like a little boy studying a frog.
She thought she would pass out from fatigue. Her thighs felt like rubber. Shooting pains raced up and down her back. She seemed to be drowning in sweat. She couldn't go on-her entire body was trembling, jerking and twisting spastically, incapable of keeping up the insane exercise.
"Ohhh, God!" she moaned in exhaustion as her legs gave out and she slumped to the floor.
"Keep going! Don't stop!" He sounded furious. He was bent over double in the chair, his stomach pushed down between his thighs, watching her intently as she kept twitching, clenching and uncurling her abdominal muscles, tucking her hairy little mound up into the air again and again and again.
"Good, very good!" he encouraged her, "Now get up on your feet!"
Nancy sat up wearily and rolled over onto her knees, dragging her body erect. She wondered what he got out of all this.
He got up and moved his chair to the side of the stateroom and sat down again.
"Run. Run around the room as fast as you can-run!" he barked, describing the circle with his pudgy hand.
She smiled and shook her head, trying to suggest to him that this was all quite unnecessary.
He stared at her, amazed that she had hesitated. She realized he wasn't joking, that he really wanted her to run around the cabin like a chicken headed for the basket. She reached down to pull up her panties.
"Leave them alone. Run just like that. Run!"
Shaking her head in disbelief, Nancy started to trot clumsily around the room in her treacherously heeled shoes, fending herself off the walls and furniture as the boat pitched and rolled.
Her pink panties slipped down her thighs and she unconsciously reached down again to free herself of the gossamer snare.
"Let them alone and go faster. I know you can ran faster-I want to see you tear around here!"
She speeded up, careening more than running, a few swift stumbling steps in each direction, her arms flying out crazily for balance.
Her panties caught at her knees, making her run like a flapper. Then they dropped down between her feet, forcing her to take hobbled steps.
She felt ridiculous. She looked ridiculous-when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, running as if fleeing from a fire, her panties stretched between her ankles.
He watched her, his head moving slightly from side to side as his glittering eyes followed her. He was smiling, nodding, tapping his short fat fingers on his knees in time to her labored lunging.
Dark circles of sweat appeared under her arms and she felt her dress clinging soppingly to her belly and the small of her back. Her head lolled on her shoulders, her face flushed, turned up, mouth gasping upward for air, trying to overcome the irresistible impulse to throw herself down on the fleecy-looking bed.
"Faster. Faster, Nancy!" he exhorted her as though she were his entry in a race with phenomenal stakes.
"Faster!" he urged her, watching her elbows jerk and her body carom dangerously out of control as she tried to fulfill his demand.
Her head was pounding, her hair plastered to her cheeks. Her shoes felt like iron weights and her panties were an exasperating, maddening hindrance.
"Pleeease!" she begged, throwing him a desperate look as she sailed past.
"Faster!" he rejoined. "Pick up your dress! Hold it up under your arms, all the way up, that's it, good girl! Run, now, run!"
With her elbows sticking out as she gathered her dress up to her armpits, baring all of her body, all the way up to her bra-clad breasts, she galloped around and around.
He sat back and beamed at her, rocking his body in the chair like a kid and rubbing his palms together.
The sweat ran down her forehead into her eyes, nearly blinding her with stinging salt. For a moment it had felt cool when she hoisted her dress at his command, but now she was burning up again and she realized her whole body was wet with perspiration.
"Faster! Faster!" he chuckled.
She staggered past him, throwing her body forward, her ankles straining with every lurching leap, her little buttocks clenching crazily, her shoulders lanced with pain by the effort of holding her dress up and exposing her gleaming nakedness to him.
He stood up and began undressing with the speed of a man half his age. Looking back over her shoulder, she could see him dropping his shorts, and on the next revolution she was confronted with the sight of his excited, red prick, sticking out from under his hairy, sagging belly.
He stepped into her path, intercepting her just as her knees were turning to Jell-O. She recovered in time to let him embrace her tightly against his fat, furry body. He clenched her for a moment, writhing against her slippery, sweaty form.
Then he yanked up on her bra, pulling it completely off her dripping breasts. He gripped her by the shoulders, holding her dress and bra up under her chin and pushed her against the wall, burning her skin with his rough body, uttering low-pitched grunting noises into her ear as she battled to breathe.
The hair on his chest scratched her nipples. His stomach pressed into the sleek hollow of hers, inhibiting her respiration. His knee came up, sliding slickly between her quivering, moist thighs and ground against the sensitive flesh of her feminine parts. Then he pulled her away from the wall.
"Jump!" he commanded her. "Jump up and down against me!"
She could barely obey with his arms locked around her neck, but she tried anyway, bouncing up and down so her breasts bobbed against his chest, pointing her toes downward to cushion the impact of her crotch on his pumping knee.
"Please!" she begged him, her voice a hoarse, winded whisper. "I can't go on. I can't breathe, oh, plllease!"
"Jump! Jump! Jump!" he chanted, pulling her head up and down, forcing her body to spring against him. She was so exhausted that all she could manage to do was throw herself about spasmodically.
He moved backward, dragging her feebly hopping body with him. Then he spun around and threw her onto the bed, pulling and pushing her panting form until she was spread out with her head hanging over the side. He moved to one side of her glassy-eyed face, as if he were going to screw her in the ear. But he grabbed her short hair in a tight fist and twisted her head sideways. She saw him pushing his inflamed, scarlet dick down with his other hand, and then he lunged for her open mouth, spearing her fevered lips with the soft, meaty crown of his lust. She felt it ram against her tongue and skid against the back of her mouth as she tried to open her lips in a wide distorted smile that let her gasp for breath around the impaling column.
He began to rock her head back and forth, forcing her to orally embrace his passion-hardened prick. His other hand began roaming over her breasts, slipping on her sweaty skin, his short, thick fingers kneading her tits as though they were lumps of white dough.
She looked up and saw that he was feasting his eyes on the sight of her heaving, shiny body as it stretched out belly-up on the bed. But when he glanced down at her, she shut her eyes.
It was bad enough to be made to suck him like this-her nostrils flaring for breath as his penis shot back and forth between her lips, wedging her mouth full of his phallic mass-but she couldn't watch it, too. She didn't want to see the red, corded shaft pistoning below her eyes, spearing her as the hairy shield of his groin assaulted her, dancing round in swiveling thrusts like a hula dancer.
Her neck throbbed with the contortion of her head turned sideways. His cockhead gouged her cheek. Her struggles for breath formed an involuntary suction around his jerking cock and she tasted the thin seminal fluid that oozed from his cock. His other hand raked her body, squeezing and pinching her until she writhed uncontrollably. She realized now that that was what he wanted to see. He wanted to watch her writhe and undulate, with her dress and bra up around her neck and the rest of her nakedly thrashing.
"That's it, Nancy! That's it, girl! Come on, Nancy, suck it harder! Suck my cock! Suck, it, Nancy!"
With amazing agility, he lifted his leg and threw it over her body, straddling her face. The bulbous head of his penis pressed against the roof of her mouth as he settled his weight on her chest, mashing her tingling tits beneath his flabby buttocks. He leaned back, pulling her head up with both hands in a savage attempt to get his cock deeper into her mouth.
She moaned in despair, shaking her head on the pivot of his prickhead to let him know she couldn't breathe.
"Suck me, Nancy, suck me!" he roared, rising.
She filled her lungs with air, fetid from the presence of his penis in her mouth, and squeezed the rude shaft with her lips, trying to obey his obscene injunction.
He sat down heavily on her, crushing the breath from her body and threatening to break her ribs.
Again he rose and again she panted and sucked on his cock in gratitude. Again and again he repeated this process, while each time he pulled her head up a little more, nearly snapping her neck, and wormed more of his root into her mouth.
His hands moved to the sides of her head, grasping her short hair in his vise-like fingers and he began jerking her face up and down, making her lips and mouth massage his jabbing penis.
"Suck! Suck! Suck! Suck!" he panted, staring down at her with a beet-red face.
"Mmmm! Mmmmm! Nuuuh!" she mumbled, crazy with the complicity of the affair, fully conscious this time that she was doing it of her own accord, that she had chosen to be here, to be used like this, letting a stranger put his polluted lust in her mouth and sucking it, sucking his cock for money, for the money that would make her free. His sudden urgency foretold the loathsome climax. She tried to brace herself, tried to take a deep breath before the cataclysm, squealed in protest as he rolled half over and grabbed a hand mirror from the shelf by the bed. He thrust it down over her face, driving his cock deep into the crater of her tortured lips. She felt his body tremble and jerk with a motion that nearly sent his prick plunging down her throat. There, in the mirror, was her face, her mouth forced open in a degraded oval, stuffed full of his bristling cock like an olive extruding a red pimento. She watched astonished as the reflection of his penis spasmed. The scalding gush broke like a wave in her throat. She saw her mouth open like a fish, actually saw the sperm boil up around the flexing rod and froth out of the corners of her mouth. Transfixed by the spectacle of her own debasement, she worked her mouth, trying to swallow some of the come, trying to spit some of it out, seeing for the first time just what it was that drove men to impale her face on their penises, seeing what they felt, the too-sensitive organ trapped in the liquid cauldron of her mouth, caressed inadvertently by her thrashing tongue, suckled by her sperm-flecked, sucking lips, their seed swallowed by her ivory throat. She worked to prevent herself from choking on the overflowing torrent that poured from his convulsing member, his root of life, buried in her mouth, churning between her lips, drowning her with the mucousy discharge as she gazed up into the mirror and thought she saw herself die over and over before he was finally through.
He dismounted her, pulling his cock from her mouth.
"Roll over, Nancy," he instructed her. She did, lying on her stomach in a state of semi-shock, unaware of the glistening strand of semen hanging from her lips.
He stepped up to her and lifted her chin in his hand.
"Come on now. Take your time, but get it all, every drop! No haste, no waste!"
Dumbly she opened her mouth and let his cock slither back between her lips. It wasn't half as bad now that she didn't have to look at her own face. She closed her lips in a fleshy ring around his member and slowly sucked the spermal coating from its pliant shaft, licking the sticky seed up with her tongue as she knew he wanted her to, and swallowing every last drop. She could feel his eyes on her, burning the back of her head as she brought her hands forward and held the stem of his penis like a flower, really getting it now that the fear of climactic inundation was gone, telling herself that she could-she could lap up his semen without getting sick, that it wasn't so bad, that it was worth the money, worth it if this was the worst thing she would have to do. If he was satisfied by his cock being cupped in her hands and her mouth and tongue slowly, fastidiously licking it clean while her mind faded a million miles away, she would do it.
"Oh, no," he chortled. "Keep it up, get me up again, Nancy. I know you can do it. Your mouth feels wonderful. A natural sucker! Suck me hard again, Nancy. I want to be hard when I take you!"
She shivered with an unabashed sexual thrill. This was new to her, this feeling of power, this attraction she held for him. He sounded as though she were the first girl in a long, long time who had really given him pleasure. That flattered her and her pride caused her imagination to team with instinct as he stood before her.
She cupped his hoary, sagging testicles in her fingers, lifting them up and down, marveling at the way they rolled about, as if at any instant they would slip out of the hairy pouch and be lost, like great, grape-sized jewels. The texture of his sac was also new to her and she was startled by the new knowledge that this was the softest part of his body, not scabrous and corrugated as it appeared, but extraordinarily delicate and fine, more supple than any area of her own body except for perhaps the inner tissues of her sex that now pulsed with a vague knot of need, wanting to assume its rightful role in the imminent coupling.
He was getting big again. She had been holding just the ball of his cock in her lips, switching her tongue-tip back and forth over it, always finding another drop of sperm in the little hole she thought she had licked absolutely clean. But his penis was pulsing, erecting slowly, the head expanding in her mouth, inviting her lips to surround the collar, to creep slowly over the burgeoning length of phallic flesh he pressed toward her insistently but not forcefully this time.
She cupped his balls in her hands, feeling a great sense of power that she was doing this, that she was capable of restoring the passion in him when he had seemed utterly spent and flaccid. And she wanted him for that-she wanted him to take her, old and awful though he was, paying her for her body-her body wanted him.
She slowly rolled onto her back, keeping his prick in her mouth, pulling it down as she turned her body and face up to him, her head between his thighs, imprisoning his root. She felt the throbbing that erected it, that was filling it with blood and turning it to a rigid, upward-flexing rod that would bring release to her body.
He put one knee on the bed and she pulled on his butt, bringing him down heavily, turning again as he half-fell, half-rolled onto the bed, deftly keeping his mushrooming, meaty cock locked between her lips as she got up on her knees and began to timidly caress him, aroused now, curious as to how successfully she could turn the tables and instead of exercising for his benefit, stimulate him to the point where he would take her, have her, actually screw her with his resurrected, livid penile log.
"Attagirl, Nancy, attagirl!" he murmured, curling like a worm on the bed and pulling her down, his mouth seeking her nipples, traveling from one to the other, sucking them hard and tense as she strained to keep a hand between his legs, jostling and jiggling his balls.
"Here we go!" he exulted, clambering between her legs, pushing his scarlet-hooded cock at the split furrow that lay beneath her silkily curling pubic patch.
"Herrrrre we go!" he repeated, as it occurred to her that he was really an old man-old enough to be her father-almost old enough to be her grandfather.
And here he was crouching over her, spreading the lips of her copiously lubricated pussy with the head of his penis, pushing it into her, down deep into her, into the grateful, sucking hollow of her body.
"OHHHH!" she sang out, drawing up her knees, transported by the sensation of his curving cock slowly filling the elastic canal of her small, stretching vagina. "That feels good, huh?"
"Oh, yessss! Yesss! GIVE IT TO MEEE! OHH! OHHHH, GO ALL THE WAY IN!" she screamed, shaking like a leaf with pleasure, crossing her ankles over his back, her legs bowed wide around his fat body, wanting to draw all of him, even his balls, down into the seething vortex of her cunt.
"OHHHH-OHHH-OHHH-OH-OH-OH!" she sang as he slowly, teasingly withdrew and she felt her vagina empty in the wake of his retreating rod.
"UUUNNN-HUUHHH!" she gasped, throwing her body up at him and locking her limbs around him. This was it. This was what she wanted. Money or not, this was what she craved, the incredible, delicious feeling of his cock burnishing the muscled narrows of her cunt and ballooning into her until they were coupled captively, his cock a prisoner in the juicy confines of her carnal passage.
This is it, this is it, she thought over and over, as they began moving against one another and his prick began stroking the clasping narrows of her sex slot.
"FUCK!" she yelled, blowing her own mind. "That's right!" he chuckled.
"FUCK!-" she repeated, like a giddy child with a new discovery.
"Hello?" she said in a cold voice, suspecting who it would be but wanting whoever it might be to know she didn't play around.
"Heyyyy! Put Livy on!" It was Coit-she knew it would be.
"Unh-uh," Nancy replied.
"What do you mean? Put her on the phone!"
"She's sick. She shouldn't be talking." Nancy relished what she knew would be Coit's irritation.
"You let me decide who's going to do the talking-now get her to the phone!"
Nancy weakened. Down deep she feared Coit. Hated him because of the money he took for what she did, but feared him because even though she felt cynical and worldly a week and a half after her first real trick, the memory of his initiation was a raw wound in her soul.
"Listen, she's really sick. She's been spitting blood, and she won't let me call a doctor."
"Yeah?"
"Will you get her a doctor-please?" Livy had threatened her about the matter of a doctor, but she figured maybe Coit knew one her sister would trust.
"Sure, sure. Listen-she been fixing?"
"Yes, but she really is sick, I'm not kidding, she really is," Nancy quavered. All week Livy had been looking worse and worse, but this morning, when she started coughing blood, Nancy had become worried.
"Okay, listen. I'll get a doctor over. I'll bring him over myself. But you gotta do this trick I lined up for her."
"No, I mean, I got to stay here. She needs looking after."
"The doctor'll look after her. Listen, this is a young punk with a lotta bread burning a hole in his pocket. You got to meet him before noon. It's for all night, too. Good money."
"How much?" Nancy's voice went calculatingly cold again. She sensed that Coit was out on a limb, that he had already committed himself and since he dealt only with well-heeled, well-connected men, he couldn't foul up like a street operator.
"A hundred."
"One-fifty. I got to pay the doctor." She knew that the deal must have been arranged for at least two hundred. One week and several jobs had taught her how high the pimp's cut ran.
"I'll pay the doctor-don't give me any shit now," he warned her.
"One-fifty or I don't leave here." Nancy was surprised at her own nerve.
There was a humming silence on the line.
"Okay, sweet stuff," Coit agreed in a conciliatory tone.
"In front," Nancy insisted. "And I don't go until I see the doctor here."
"I'm gonna beat your little white ass!"
"Listen, she's really, really sick!"
"Okay, okay. Now you listen to me. If I got to score this doctor, I can't make it over there in time for you to meet the John, dig? You gotta get down to the Somerville hotel an hour from now and that's where it's at. Now-are you gonna, go?"
"Yes, all right, okay," she surrendered, glancing at the clock.
"Okay. Everything's gonna be cool. I'll make it on over fast as I can round up the doc. Now listen: this is a young dude. He wants someone to show off with. He wants you to dress sexy, real sexy. None of that sweet sixteen shit, dig?"
"Un-huh." Nancy was listening to Livy's hacking cough. The sound of it made her blood run cold.
"Okay." Coit said, and hung up.
I shouldn't have left Livy, she thought in the taxi. She was really scared for her. But she figured Coit would know a good doctor, once he set his mind to taking care of it. But Livy was so sick-she hated to think of her coughing away back in the apartment, unattended, even for an hour or so. She was really helplessly sick.
But Livy had wanted her to go. And there was the money-with this hundred and fifty dollars, she'd have almost a thousand. And she'd saved almost all of it. No habits and no debts except for some rent which she wanted to pay Livy. She could stop after this. She really could leave the city. Go to the mountains she had heard so much about. Really be on her own. She thought she should take Livy. They could both go somewhere-someplace hot and dry-that would dry out the sickness that Livy had caught that afternoon on the boat when her man had taken her nude on the deck.
She paid the driver and entered the opulent hotel, glad that she had a long coat on. The sexiest thing she had found was a low-cut knit dress of Livy's and it would certainly have scandalized the Somerville lobby.
"Mr. Colby?" she asked at the marble desk.
"Are you expected?" inquired the sallow desk clerk.
"Yes," Nancy said, drawing herself up but looking away at the same time, hating the way the clerk was eyeing her, seeming to suggest that she should have come in through the back door.
The clerk spent several minutes murmuring into the phone.
"Mr. Colby will meet you in the lobby," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.
Nancy turned on her heel and swished back to the lobby. It was full of old people perched on red velvet chairs, all looking as if they were going to be called for by heads of state or at least by chauffeurs. Nancy chose a chair to the side and waited, mad at Coit for insisting she hurry so, vaguely worrying about Livy, and daydreaming dollar signs, trying to convince herself that the money had been worth the week's experiences, none of which had been as satisfactory as that afternoon at sea.
She had almost given up on the Mr. Colby when a thin, black-haired young man with a bushy mustache stepped up. He was dressed in a white linen suit, looking like an old-fashioned photograph. Nancy noticed the expensive European shoes and thin gold watch at once. They studied one another for a moment as several of the old people looked their way-down their noses. "Mr. Colby?" she ventured.
"You call that sexy?" he snapped. His voice was that of a spoiled child.
"It's about as sexy as I feel in here." She tried to smile.
"Well, let's go," he said with a resigned expression.
She followed him out of the lobby-she had no choice, he walked so fast. When they reached the inner vestibule, he turned quickly and steered her into the doorman's closet.
"Hey!" she protested as he unbuttoned her long coat and pulled it open. "Not here, huh?"
He was examining her, shaking his head.
"You look about as sexy as my sister," he pronounced.
She wanted to apologize and to tell him to get lost, too. But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her out the door.
"Hey, can we slow down?" she panted, half-running along as he strode down the street on skinny legs.
"No!" he snapped. But she thought she saw a hint of a self-conscious smile as he turned his face away. He was embarrassed to be with her, she realized. Well, aren't la ... whore? she mused. Still, it was funny. He couldn't be much older than she was. He had ordered her, so to speak, and it seemed he couldn't look her in the eye.
Three blocks and they had left the central downtown square. Two more and they were in a neighborhood of cheap, topless nightclubs and bars.
"Here!" he announced. They had stopped in front of a gaudy specialty shop advertising women's lingerie. He pulled her in through the shuttered door. An equally skinny older man looked up in surprise from a counter display of colored net stockings and then slid out the door like a salamander before it closed.
"Yes?" said a husky-voiced woman, approaching them as if they had an appointment. Nancy found it hard to conceal her contempt for the shop's sleazy merchandise.
"Do you have a dressing room?" her escort asked.
"Yes, of course! Right in through here," the woman said, guiding them back to the rear of the store and holding up a faded curtain. He pulled her in. It was a dirty alcove underneath a stairway, lit by a naked bulb.
"Well?" Nancy inquired, taken aback somewhat by the situation she found herself hustled into. They were standing almost face to face.
"Take your clothes off," he ordered her.
Nancy jerked in surprise, then looked over his shoulder at the woman, who winked solicitously at her. But it wasn't a question of arguing. He was pushing off her coat already.
"Okay, okay," she exclaimed, motioning him out of the booth. She unhooked her dress and stepped out of it, standing in her underwear. He kept staring into her eyes, gesturing that she should remove the rest.
She didn't like that woman one bit. The way the shopkeeper was looking at her suggested one thing only and she hoped the two of them weren't colluding in some bizarre scheme. Turning modestly to the side, she took off her bra, liberating her white, upturned breasts. Then she took a deep breath and pushed her panties down, standing finally in just her shoes.
"Never be surprised," Livy had told her when they traded stories about the afternoon on the boat. "Get a laugh out of it if you have to or split if you don't like what's happening. But never be surprised, honey. In this business, your imagination winds up with an inferiority complex." It's true. Boy, it really is, Nancy thought with a shiver.
Colby backed all the way out and the woman dropped the curtain, leaving her alone. She could hear him talking, and her answering, as she stood nude in the cubicle. She remembered Coit saying that he wanted her sexy. She figured that must be it.
The curtain parted and both of them reappeared. The woman was holding several flimsy articles, her weathered face creased in a wicked smile. She stepped into the closet with Nancy.
"Let's see how these look on the lady," she snickered, as Colby looked on with a faint smile.
"Lift your arms, dear."
She looked down as the woman passed what looked like a wide strap under her breasts and drew the ends of it around her back.
"Owwww!" she protested, feeling something dig into the undersides of her soft breasts. They were mounding up under her eyes, squeezed together and jacked painfully high as the shopkeeper cinched the cupless bra tight.
"How's that?" she asked Colby, turning Nancy around for his inspection.
She realized she had been fitted into some sort of sling that grabbed her breasts under the nipples and held them up.
Colby frowned, then nodded. "Is that as high as they'll go?"
"I can make it tighter," the woman offered.
"It hurts," Nancy objected. The structure felt like bands of metal wedging her soft flesh up into lewd projections.
"Get into these, dear," the woman instructed her.
Nancy took what looked like a pair of sheer, black-tinted hose and stepped into them. But when she pulled them over her legs they were more like leggings. They came up to her hips on the outside but the insides were cut away from above her pubic mound clear underneath to her backside leaving her buttocks completely exposed. Colby smiled enthusiastically.
She was handed two more things. One was a plastic miniskirt that was more like a handkerchief. Not only did it ride so low on her hips that it promised to fall off, but it was so short that it barely concealed her buttocks or her pubic tuft. It was more like a lampshade, a black plastic lampshade, flaring around her hips so that she couldn't see her crotch but felt sure anybody else could.
The top took several tries but finally the shopkeeper came up with one that suited Colby-a white shell that was cut in a rounded plunge that almost completely exposed her breasts to the nipples and revealed her whole back.
"Come on out," Colby gestured.
Nancy emerged stiffly, hardly daring to breathe for fear that the bones in the corset-like contraption would pierce her bosom, or that the whole ensemble would fall off altogether. She stared at herself in the mirror, finding it difficult to recognize her body in the sluttish outfit.
"How do you like it, dear?"
"How would you like it?" Nancy shot back, feeling her upthrust breasts quiver like gelatin with each word, sure that her nipples were peeking out over the edge of the top.
"I like it. But something's missing," Colby observed.
"Let's have your shoes, dear," the shopkeeper said.
She disappeared, leaving Nancy standing motionless as Colby walked around her, nodding with satisfaction.
"Here you go!" she said triumphantly when she returned.
Nancy reluctantly took the white boots and put them on. They looked like high boots, clinging to her supple calves almost up to the knee. But the backs were cut away. The women knelt behind her lacing up the white thongs which crisscrossed over her calf muscles from the ankle to the back of the knee. Each boot felt like a strait jacket and when Nancy leaned over to inspect them, one of her breasts popped out of the sling and the white top.
"Here," the woman offered eagerly.
"No!" she said, coloring to the roots of her hair as she maneuvered the jutting boob back into the precarious perch.
"We'll take this too!" Colby said, plucking a transparent plastic maxicoat from a rack and placing it around Nancy's shoulders. "You can send her clothes to my hotel," he instructed the shopkeeper, paying for his purchases from a thick fold of crisp, green bills.
"How do you feel?" he asked Nancy as they started out.
"Like a circus freak," she replied, reluctant to go out into the world, realizing that the effect of the whole rig from the transparent coat on down made her seem more naked than if she were wearing no clothes at all.
"That's what I call sexy!" he snickered, producing a broad leather collar from his pocket and fastening it around her neck. It was studded with metal points and had a ring in the center which hung in the hollow at the base of her neck. From her feet to her chin, Nancy was now completely bound and constricted in the unnatural outfit, but the weirdest thing of all was the expression on the shopkeeper's face as she left, as if the older woman envied her being trussed, displayed and collared like an animal.
They went up the street, and Nancy discovered that the boot-leggings were heeled so dangerously high that it was all she could do to totter along as if on stilts. It made her feel as if she were made of glass, except for her jutting, swollen-looking breasts which threatened to jump out of their cantilevered cups with the impact of her steps.
Colby walked behind her, enjoying the reactions of passers-by who hesitated in their tracks, male and female alike, and stared at Nancy as though she were some kind of freak.
"Sexy!" he whispered in her ear.
"I feel more like a cripple!" she retorted, feeling no need to enhance his pleasure with politeness.
"That's it!" he snapped his fingers. "Wait here!"
He darted across the street through honking traffic and disappeared into a medical supplies store.
Oh, no! she thought when he reappeared, brandishing a pair of metal crutches.
"Use these!" He thrust them at her. "Drag your right leg. Let it drag-don't use it at all!"
Nancy almost told him where to go, but decided it wouldn't last long. Only till the morning. She took a few stumbling steps and then started hauling herself along, letting her leg hang limp, the white boot scuffing on the sidewalk.
"That's it, perfect! Perfect!" he grinned.
"Which way?" she asked wearily at the corner, taking her weight on her left leg to relieve the gouging of the crutches in her armpits.
"Into the square. Go over there and sit down on the bench next to the drinking fountain," he told her.
She dragged herself across the street, blushing amid the crowd of incredulous pedestrians. The effort of pulling herself up onto the curb made both breasts pop out of the sling. Cursing silently she stopped and tried to figure out how she was going to get them back under partial cover when she saw him across the street, eagle-eyed, shaking his head, forbidding her to perform the adjustment.
Christ! I could be arrested! she thought as she arduously mounted the steps to the square, feeling the eyes of the panhandlers who lined the steps studying her with ardent curiosity. She crossed the square and plopped down onto a bench, perspiring with the exertion the crutches had demanded.
Now she realized why he wanted her to sit there. One by one the young vagrants and the old men who populated the square came up to the drinking fountain. She stared at the pigeons on the pavement, trying to ignore the men. But she could tell by their shuffling steps and the uninterrupted gurgle of the fountain that each was looking down at her plastic-shrouded body, ogling her breasts which sat like plump white doves above the brace of her swooping neckline. She remembered the incident in the topless club and amused herself by thinking that this was ten times worse than actual nude exhibitionism. This acting like a crippled tart. And for what? For nearly a thousand dollars in a week and a half, she reminded herself, that's what!
"Hey, baby, you come unhinged there," slurred a young black, sitting down on the bench next to her, bringing with him a strong smell of alcohol.
She turned her head and saw that his bloodshot eyes were fixed on her exposed bosom, focused blearily on her nipples.
"It's hard," he said thickly. "I know it-it's hard. You want to go somewhere?"
"No," she said.
"You look like you want to go somewhere," he countered. "I don't mind your leg. I'll do you real good-reeeeal good!" He nodded devoutly. "I'll make you throw away those cripple-sticks and dance for joy!"
"Some other time," she replied, and the words hit her suddenly.
"You gotta seize the time," he said seriously, leaning toward her and staring down between her legs.
She looked down and realized in humiliation that even though she was sitting straight as she could, the stiff miniskirt didn't even conceal the shadowy pit between the tops of her thighs. She hurriedly crossed her legs, only to realize that the skirt flared up higher, exposing the whole underside of both of her thighs and buttocks.
"I knew it! That's supposed to be your bad leg, huh?" the young black snickered. "You one jiiiive chick! Now I know what you're looking for, for sure. Come on, I gotta place we can go!"
There was a finger-snapping sound. Nancy looked up and saw Colby standing before her, frowning at her, jerking his head in command. She flushed with confusion and embarrassment, pulling herself up by the crutches and then mounting them.
"Hey, my man! How much you want? How much do she go for? I can get it. You wait five minutes. I can get it. I want that one. You got yourself an ace act there, whoooeeee, brother, I like that act, I go for that! How much, doctor, how much?"
"Fifty dollars!" Colby stated with a grin. "Awww, no! Looky here, I got a few dollars. Let's see, four, five, six, and fifty-five, sixty-five, sixty-eight, no, sixty-nine...."
Nancy plunged ahead on the chrome crutches, outraged by Colby's lewd humor and the idea that he could sell her for the mangy black kid's change.
He caught up with her at the corner, laughing as she looked daggers at him.
"What right do you think you have...?"
"All of them! You have no rights. None! Remember that! Taxi!" he yelled. "As long as you're with me, you don't have any rights!"
The cab U-turned and pulled up at the curb. Colby made a dramatic flourish of opening the door and helping her in, sliding the crutches over the front seat.
"Don't be too sure of that," she declared.
"Oh, I am sure, though," he smiled. "And you like it. You love it, the whole bit, I can tell, you're getting more of a kick out of than I am!"
"Spread your legs," he told her as she worked to stuff her breasts back into the clutch of the upligt. She saw the driver's eyes grow large in the rear-view mirror, and threw Colby a hateful glance.
But she spread her legs, feeling the plastic coat warm and sticky against the underside of her crotch where the stockings were scooped open. Colby inserted his hand between her thighs, crooking his fingers down against the mossy curvature of her sex, searching with his middle digit for the soft cleft of her vulva.
The driver was shaking his head. Nancy turned away, looking out the window as Colby bent over her, grabbing the flesh of one of her breasts in his teeth and plucking it from its tenuous perch.
"Ouch!" she hissed, gritting her teeth as she felt his mouth seek out her nipple and lasciviously begin to lip and suck it as if broad daylight and the cabby were of no consequence. His fingers parted the furrow of her labia and she felt his bony probe slip into the inner groove of her genital gash. He began playing his finger back and forth, opening her up, massaging the puckered little narrows of her cunt with his fingertip until she squirmed in silent anguish.
The driver turned all the way around at a red light and studied the two of them in disbelief.
"Boy, I can't say I blame you!" he pronounced, to Colby's satisfaction.
When he resumed driving, Nancy tried to push Colby's hand away. But his finger had entered her body, penetrated her succulent hair-lined vagina, was hooked up inside her, dislodging an involuntary rush of physical excitement and triggering the oozing juice of her cuntal cream which seemed to gush at the slightest suggestion of stimulation after the week's increasing sexual activity.
"Not here," she whispered, backing into the corner of the seat and trying to remove his hand from between her thighs.
"Yes, here!" he insisted. "Or anywhere I choose!" He was sliding his fingers up and down, deliberately massaging the sensitive bud that overhung her entered aperture. He pulled her thighs open, fully exposing the furry mass of her vulva beneath the silly visor of the stiff skirt. She could feel his finger skewering between her pussy lips, wallowing in the wet socket of her vagina, as the heel of his hand pressed down on her hard pubic hump, intensifying the throbbing ache that was building there.
"Ohhhh." The sigh of mingled distress and desire was unavoidable. One of his other fingers had doubled up and the very tip of it was caressing the moistening lair of her tingling clitoris. Her buttocks were hot, clinging to the plastic coat which felt like melting cheese underneath her.
"Ohh-ohhh," she whimpered, her head lolling on the back of the seat. Suddenly she didn't care what the driver saw, what he thought. The second she had stepped out of that shop in this preposterous rig she had forfeited her rights. He was right. She was his tool, his sex object, his pet, dressed according to his warped imagination, acting out his fantasies, helpless now to resist the flurrying sparks of carnal yearning his fingers were initiating down between her legs.
And he was an expert. That was what amazed her. His fingers were so quick and sure, like two tongues making love to her simultaneously-one crooking in and out of her slippery muscled crease and the other skating maddeningly around and over her distended clitoris.
"Ohh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" She wanted to cry for shame. Here she was getting a hand-job right in a taxi and incapable of saving herself. She was lost, but adrift on a rising tide of immediate pleasure, submitting to the passion which gnawed at her whole being, surrendering to this outrageous assault that filled her with a sense of sinful and ecstatic abandon.
The driver was wagging his head in time to her rising cries of lust. Colby was grinning from ear to ear, oscillating his fingers in the jellying pit of her crotch. Nancy opened her thighs completely, sliding down on the seat so her whole cunt was accessible to his pillaging.
His finger moved with incredible speed, jabbing in and out of the soft jaws of her spastically jumping, seething, hot hole. The bones in the uplift felt like they were piercing her boobs, like sharp fingers gnawing at her burning flesh.
Her nails dug into her palms. She panted wildly, wanting him to finish her, to end the torture, to release the spring of salacious tension tightening in her gushing, grinding groin. It was so degrading, but so devilishly delightful, being had like this, her helplessness witnessed by a stranger, her almost naked body bucking and bouncing, being frantically, feverishly pierced by his flying finger.
She arched her back. Her other breast popped free, the two brown nodes of her turgid nipples dancing demonically under his fleeting pinches. She wanted more than just his finger in her. She wanted a cock. Terrible as the truth was, she wanted a whole cock crammed into the mushy maw of her steaming cuntal mouth. She could feel her climax coming, being plucked from her, but too big, too demanding, for just his finger. The aura of orgasm suffused her groin, surrounding his touch, too much for his digit-his finger too inadequate for the intensity of her coming thrill.
"More, ohhh, more!" she mewed, thrashing on the seat, then sobbing with wanton, greedy, degrading delight as he responded by stuffing two more fingers into the gelatinous gulf of her desperate cunt.
"Ohh! OHHYESSSS! YESSSS! OHGOOOD! GOOOOD! SOGOOOOD!" she cried out as she bore down on the wedge of his three fingers, stuffing her twat onto his hand, engorging her lascivious cuntal lips with his knuckles, and brazenly riding them as the fires of consummation ravaged her foaming pussy.
"Boy, I oughta charge you extra!" the driver said, wiping his brow as the cab pulled up on a broad residential street.
"My pleasure!" Colby agreed, handing him a ten-dollar bill and waving off the change. "Come on, my dear, let me help you to your crutches."
Nancy could barely stand, even with the help of the crutches, she was so weak from the draining sensation of exhausted eroticism in her loins.
"One more thing," Colby instructed her. "You're not to talk-not one word. No matter what anyone says to you, just smile or anything you like, but don't say a single word. You're mute, dumb, no voice. Got it? You sure?"
Nancy almost agreed out loud, then nodded, showing him she could comply with this latest request. She looked up at the white stone mansion they were approaching through an elaborate iron arch and drew a deep breath.
Colby pushed the brass-trimmed front door open and held it for her, winking at her as she swung through on her crutches. A black maid materialized and helped her out of her coat. In spite of the exposure she had had to the worlds of the wealthy, starting with the yacht, the baronial splendor of the mansion took Nancy's breath away.
"Don't say anything, and don't forget about your leg!" he reminded her as they went down the hall past a series of aged and overbearing portraits.
"Neddy!" a breathless voice exclaimed behind them. They turned and confronted a girl about Nancy's age dressed in a floor-length housecoat.
"Ann!" Colby gushed, giving her a quick hug and pecking kiss. "My sister, Ann. This is Nancy."
The girl stared at her for a second, glanced at her brother, then flashed a fleeting artificial smile that made Nancy feel like dirt. It was obvious that his sister didn't want to be on the same planet, much less in the same house, with her, and she realized bitterly that she was grateful she wasn't supposed to speak, so that she wouldn't further humiliate herself by trying to talk up to the haughty girl.
"Dubby, Ned's home!" she called down the hall and Nancy heard the unmistakable thunder of a young boy's footsteps bounding down a flight of stairs.
"Ned! Ned!" he cried, coming into view, racing down the hall to butt Colby in the stomach. They rousted about for a minute and Nancy was surprised to see that although the younger brother must be at least twelve or thirteen, he was wearing shorts instead of long pants.
"Who's this?" the boy demanded.
"This is Nancy," Colby introduced her.
"Wow!" he said, ogling her rudely. She shifted on her crutches and managed a weak smile, thinking that she really couldn't blame his enthusiasm, considering the spectacle her body presented.
"Doesn't she talk?" he demanded.
"No. She's been very unfortunate," Colby explained, curling up the corners of his mouth in a scheming smile.
"Huh! Not in some ways!" Dubby said leadingly as his sister drew open a set of dark double doors.
The four of them entered a high-ceilinged spacious drawing room. Nancy's eyes swept over the gilt fireplace, the piano, the delicate furniture, and came to rest on a forbidding older woman seated next to a tea cart.
"Well, congratulations, Ned!" she said in a voice that sounded like a hamster running on its wheel. "Glad you could drop in this year."
"I meant to get out last month," he apologized, going up to her and making the gesture of a kiss on her cadaverous cheek.
"No doubt you were too busy running around Washington with the rest of that antiwar rabble," she rasped.
"Exactly," he smiled.
"Who is this?"
"Her name is Nancy...."
"And why do you bring them into my house?" she interrupted, making Nancy feel about two feet tall. It was clear that his mother despised the sight of her but the strange thing was that she didn't take her eyes off her. Nancy felt that the old woman was staring at her mounding cleavage, and she had a strange dizzying reaction as if she were slipping away into a dream. For one thing, all the members of the family had seated themselves, but no one had brought her a chair and, in fact, there weren't any more, so she had to stand on her crutches, like a beggar. For another, as Ned and his mother exchanged venomous remarks, the four of them stared at her with blatant expressions of amusement and desire. Even his sister, whose contempt was unconcealed, was running her eyes up and down the gaudily highlighted aspects of her figure. Nancy felt like a specimen under a microscope.
T suppose I'd better get you your money," his mother announced, getting up with a gothic rustling of skirts. "You know that your father wants the bank to administer it in monthly allowance?"
"I'll just take a check for the year's worth," Colby replied.
The mother swished past Nancy, muttering something under her breath, and swept out of the room.
"Oh, Ned, won't you at least stay overnight this time?" his sister pleaded. Nancy was jolted by the underlying tone of distinctly unfilial craving in her voice.
"Not a chance," he smirked. "Dub, why don't you give the lady a chair?"
The youngster got up and Nancy moved to the chair with a smile of thanks; seating herself carefully on the edge so that her breasts wouldn't jump out of the false front. To her consternation, the boy sat down cross-legged on the floor a few feet away and stared up at her, chilling her as the upholstery of the chair reminded her that her crotch was naked and undoubtedly exposed to his eyes. She wanted to club him with the crutches but a compelling distraction had appeared. Colby and his sister were both leaning over the arms of their chairs, their faces meeting, and before Nancy's astonished eyes, touching their tongues in a languorous and incestuous kiss.
There was a sound at the door and they broke their oral embrace as the mother entered, grim-visaged, bearing the check on high.
"Your father sends his greetings, and I want you to stay in touch with the office in Boston so we at least know whether you're dead or alive."
"Thanks. Good-bye," Colby said, taking the check and turning up his face for his mother's kiss which she bestowed with her hands on his shoulders.
Nancy stared, lost in incredulity as the woman exited once more and Colby and his sister simultaneously rose from their chairs and clutched each other in ardent embrace.
"Not here!" Ann objected, breaking away from her brother's hold around her waist. "Not in front of her!"
"I'll be back," he told Nancy as he followed his sister out through another set of double doors.
Nancy's head was throbbing. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
The younger brother closed the doors after them and then closed the others leading to the hall. He swaggered over to her chair, smirking as he looked down at the puffed-up spheres of her snowy bosom. She was about to vent all her confusion and tension on him when the doors opened a crack.
"Not a single word!" Colby's voice sounded, and the doors closed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Dub demanded, but Nancy, heeding the instruction, only glared at him.
"Lemme see!" he declared like a spoiled child, looking directly down her front, at the chasm between her boobs.
Nancy leaned back in the chair, furious at his gall, at the whole situation, but especially at the fact that the younger brother seemed as much of a pervert as Colby himself-not to mention the ghoulish sister.
He grabbed her crutch and yanked on it, pulling her forward. Biting her lip in anger, she yanked back on it. They wrestled with it in a tug-of-war. She didn't know why she was fighting him, except that the loss of the crutch might portend other defeats at his hands.
He gave the crutch a wrench and in twisting to keep possession of it, both her breasts suddenly jumped out of the truss, jammed up above her neckline in two quivering bunny-nosed orbs.
"Wow!" he marveled, dropping the crutch, his eyes bulging at the unexpected revelation of her prominent brown nipples.
She had that feeling again, the sensation that she was dreaming, that none of it was real, that it was all an hallucination.
It wasn't Nancy who was yielding as the youth stepped up to her. It was her image, an unnatural image of her body packaged for lewd usage, presented to the juvenile with grasping hands and wolfish eyes. How could she, unable to speak, resist his advances? His fingers explored her breasts as he stood over her, exciting her nipples with a tweaking touch that bore the confidence of a male much older than he. His eyes searched the naked tunnel between her thighs as he dropped to the floor in front of her. His young mouth heatedly kissed and nipped at the sensuous flesh of her inner legs.
It wasn't her, but another person who was thrilled by his bold foreplay until she had to swallow the moans of pleasure welling up in her throat. Someone else, something else, she thought dazedly as she went to the carpet, the lampshade-like skirt flipping up when he spread her stockinged thighs and buried his satyr's face in the teeming tempest of her unprotected hair-twined twat.
It was the thing Colby had purchased with money from Coit the pimp that lay on the floor, watching from within a hot coma as her pliant boobs were manipulated and rolled like balloons on her heaving chest.
Lifting her head, she looked out of a sex-drugged daze as her plastic-banded body was mounted by the avid youth, jerking in response when his thin, sharp prick scythed into the sticky morass the cab ride's climax had created in her vulva.
Lying in a lustful trance she counted the angels on the ceiling as her hips surged back and forth, spurred by the young rider who arched over her, jabbing his juvenile gaff into her bucking box.
She heard his "Wow! Wow! Wooowwww! Oh, wow, WOOWWW!" as his small body pressed down on hers, her breasts munched in his ravenous fingers, her cunt galvanized by the jolting sparks of his searing adolescent semen spurting into her, finishing in her, fish-like inside her as the fevered lips of her womb closed suckingly around his shrinking minnow of a member.
"I don't believe it!" she said out loud when, after showing her off all over the nighttime city and scandalizing the Somerville's early-morning staff, they were back in his hotel room.
"You better believe it," Colby chuckled.
No, I don't, I don't, she told herself on her knees, in a kind of prayer, smelling the musky vaginal odor around his rearing rod and recalling his sister.
"I don't, I don't," she murmured as she took his stony penis in her fingers and guided its tumescent tip into her mouth according to his instructions.
She feared his coming as her head bobbed up and down, her mouth noisily slurping on the thrusting stick of his rigid cock. Not for the hot gush of sperm but because her overworked mind feared a kind of poison in the discharge, a kind of contamination rising from his family's degeneracy and infecting her with permanent amorality.
She sucked him more vigorously than she had ever expected to suck off any man in her short span of apprentice fellation. Sucked him so hard the blood tingled inside her cheeks as his cockhead battered her throat. Sucked and tongued him so intensely that he lay back on the bed, out of control, out of his senses with lustful joy. So that when he came, she could clap her hand over the spitting head of his jerking dick, squeezing his sperm-spewing prick in her fist so expertly that he thought her mouth was still around him, that it was her lips and not her dexterous fingers working the come from his creaming cock, so successfully that she avoided the pollution she was sure lurked in his body, ready to infect her should she absorb it, as she had swallowed up, with hungering puss and pussy alike, the legion of cocks she had been forfeiting her life to.
She was still shuddering when she got back to the apartment, restored to her own clothes, but stripped by the long night of passion Colby had expended on her.
There were several scrawled prescription slips on the table.
Good, she thought, Coit did get the doctor here.
"Livy?" she called, entering the bedroom and seeing the bed looking recently vacated.
"Livy?" she repeated, heading into the kitchen.
"LIVYYYY!" she screamed, blanching in horror, feeling the world come crashing down all over her.
Livy sprawled on the linoleum floor, stark naked, deathly gray, her eyes erased in her face, the works hanging out of her arm by the blood-encrusted needle.
CHAPTER TEN
For nearly a month after the trouble with the police, the persecution of the DA's office and the funeral itself, Nancy didn't leave the big house that Robert shared with several other heads. She was too frightened of running into Coit, whom she had set the police after when he had responded to her hysterical call for help by cleaning out Livy's cash and valuables, of running into the police themselves or, worst of all, into one of the men she had met during her short stint as an apprentice whore.
She kept to the kitchen, cooking and cleaning house, and lived in the silent, slowly fading shook that Robert and the others refrained from interfering with. Gradually she grew used to the fact that her sole surviving relative was now also dead, that she was really alone, all on her own, no guidance to turn to except what glimmer of life painfully rekindled in her soul.
She came to see that the various relationships freely conducted between the inhabitants of the house were not just promiscuous, as she had first judged them, but affirmations of affection and ardor that bound them all together, all except for herself. She ignored their frequent nakedness, the immodest sounds of lovemaking that issued night and day from behind unclosed doors, and slept on her little pallet with the presumption that she could never again share her body with any man or woman, and take the chance of reviving the hideous memories of her first two weeks in the city. .
Finally the household prevailed on her to join them for a picnic at a country ranch belonging to some rock musicians. Piled into the little battered schoolbus, she couldn't help joining the circle of laughing, singing pot smokers and she felt the scar-tissue in her heart and mind begin to soften in the freakish camaraderie induced by the grass.
The ranch was a revelation to her. Not since Morganville had she been in the country, out in clean air, away from buildings, pavement and mechanical people. While the others whooped naked down into the swimming pool with barking dogs and their clowning hosts, she walked in a grove of redwood trees, passing her hands over the soft, shaggy bark and gazing up at the immensity of the sun-sprinkled, canopying green. She was among the feathery, lush ferns, listening to the rustle and chirping of the birds and realized she didn't want to remember any longer about Livy and Coit and the men she had laid for, and that this was good.
She saw Robert before he saw her, coming through the shadowed stand of big trees, naked like a primitive, his body appealingly white, slipping like a silver shadow through the overpowering greenery. And though she had vowed to herself that erotic interests would never again appeal to her, she was moved by the sight of his nakedness coming toward her. Stripped of clothing and urban attributes, he was a picture of raw masculinity, of the body itself, muscled and sleekly unadorned except for his long hair and the dark triangle at his groin which nested around his swinging symbol of potency.
She could hear the distant whoops and cries of the bathers, yet it seemed to her that she and Robert were the only two human beings on earth and she stirred with the timeless attraction for his sex that she had been suppressing every day of these long painful weeks.
She gave a low whistle and he stopped in his tracks, looking around like a panther smelling meat on the wind. She stood up and he saw her, a small female figure against the enormous red-brown column of the tree.
She almost couldn't do it, but she forced herself to pull off her jersey top and remove her bra before his wide-admiring eyes. She bent over, her breasts hanging bare from her stooping body in two pale cones, and removed her shoes. Then she looked up, feeling his eyes on her more strongly than the rays of sun which slipped through the tree tops, and wiggled out of her jeans and panties, fully exposing herself to him, letting him see all of her beauty which he had sought so fervently during that timeless night on the bus.
She raised her arms over her head and stepped forward, standing for a minute like a sacrificial Figure of feminine loveliness, her breasts rising high on her chest, her buttocks and creamy flanks dappled in the irregular light.
He moved forward, cracking a twig underfoot. Something made her turn and run-not in fear, but in joy. She bounded over a mossy log and ran flat out, high-stepped over the fertile debris of ferns and redwood sheddings, reveling in her nakedness and the rhythms of her breasts and body jumping as she went racing along.
She could hear him behind her, laughing enthusiastically, his footsteps gaining on hers, thrilling her with the chase. She dodged through a grove of smaller trees and then threw herself to the ground in a little clearing, rolling over and over to crush the ferns into a leafy bed.
He dove down after her and rolled with her, pulling her panting, supple body to his hard virile frame. His legs pinned hers to the ground and he stretched her arms over her head, bearing down on her nipple-studded, marshmallow mounds with his chest as their mouths locked together in a furious carnal kiss of twisting tongues.
She whined, squirming beneath him. It hurt, the sticks and stems pricking her back and buttocks, the way he stretched and pinioned her, the pressure of his penis rapidly enlarging between her widespread thighs, its passion-filled knob butting into the hair-rimmed rift of her vulnerable opening.
But the pain felt good. It convinced her that she was alive after all, that she was soft and yet strong, girlish in resistance but a woman in appetite and animal hunger, independent yet incited to fervor by the friction of his flesh against hers.
She drew up her knees, opening her body to him, bearing down with her parting pudenda against the engorged organ which blindly sought her genital embrace. His body jerked forward and up, spearing her crotch with the cudgel of his cock, lodging the head of it in the yielding vise of her ruffled portals.
"OHHHH!" she shouted, jubilantly, scattering the birds into the trees with the intensity of her welcome.
"OHHHH-OHHHH!" she yelled, thrilled by the sound of her cries piercing the majestic temple of lofty trees.
He grunted and lunged powerfully, jamming his phallus to the bushy hilt between her straining labia, sending his cock stabbing up into her roiling belly.
"OHHHH!" she wailed happily, feeling her abdomen crammed full with his throbbing prick.
He jerked sideways and rolled over, spinning her up on top of him, pushing her up to a sitting position as she scrambled to bring her knees up to a straddling stance, encompassing his upward thrusting cock with her freshly creaming cunt.
She grabbed his hands and held them to her breasts, arching her back, pushing the throbbing nipples into his clutch, letting her head hang back as his fingers eagerly kneaded her bountiful boobs and his phallus scythed up and down into the moist furrow of her flexing fissure.
She felt a halo of erotic pleasure encircle his member as its granite shaft massaged her crescent narrows. She rode up and down, letting his ballooning cockhead nearly slip from the grasp of her quim, then sinking herself fully on its rearing bulk, taking all of him in the straining socket of her hollow.
When she looked down she could see her whole body dancing on top of his, her torso twisting and undulating, her belly pushing out and sucking in, greedily champing at his loins. The hairy badge of her pubic promontory appeared as she tucked up her groin, and then dove out of sight, tucking down between her thighs to engulf his stirring staff in exotic angles of animal abandon.
"OHHHH! OH! OH! OH! OHHHH! OHHHH!" she screamed, raising her fists to her temples, winding her body back and forth, whipping her breasts against his clawing fingers, spiraling her quivering cunt up and down on the skewering standard of his lunging, lust-hardened lance.
She heard the squish of her cunt juicily jumping on his thrusting pestle and melted in the flames of rapture that billowed up from the fiery mortar of her madly moving mound. The fire was inside her, ripping through her, tossing her like a leaf and she was coming, coming with an intensity that mocked all previous experience, coming again and again, unable to stop the dervish dance of her seething cylinder of his pistoning penis, transported in seemingly endless intoxication as her cunt churned out its lava on the pulsing poker that pranced within her.
Other naked figures appeared, coming through the trees, smiling at the sight of her, wet as otters from the swimming hole where they heard her call of wild triumph. She didn't mind them. She was glad they were there. It increased her pleasure to let them see her rapture, to know that they were watching her sweat and struggle with the spirit of sensual joy that swallowed her up over and over.
They were like naked gods and goddesses, regarding her not with sneaking selfish stares but with clear-eyed awe and admiration, one by one sinking to the ground in two's and three's, surrounding her with a pageant of sexual coupling and completion.
She leaned forward, putting her hands on Robert's chest, shaking her perspiring breasts in his smiling face and began to rake her cunt up in long livid strokes as if she meant to peel his cock down to the raw muscled meat that had triggered her frenzy.
She belonged to him now. The release he had brought her, let her find and flourish in, had shown her that. They all belonged to each other, all the naked happy bodies entwined in the clearing. And she wanted him to belong to her, knew that he had from that night which preceded the ordeal of her arrival, and would, once her sleek shining body had plucked the seed from his staff, now, as the promise of explosion welled up in his pulsing pillar, now as he came, and reaching up, embraced her, pulling her down, uniting their bodies, rolling with her amid the others as his leaping penis discharged the flux which welded them together, making Nancy sob with relief, knowing now that she could conceive a future, a beginning, the real start of the rest of a real life.
